jessefadenfbc

[jessefadenfbc]

black calla lilies for the Director

black calla lilies are often associated, among other things, with mystery, mourning and transformation

[jessefadenfbc]

bleeding hearts for Alice because they can symbolise sorrow, pain or lost love

[jessefadenfbc]

A warped kind of day

[jessefadenfbc]

Oh no, you're on a red eye flight from New York City to Seattle to see the Old Gods of Asgard perform at Deerfest, and there's only so many seats open on the plane! Where do you sit? Choose wisely… or experience the flight from hell!

If you're a fan of horror media and Remedy Games, follow us on our socials to stay up to date on the zine’s progress!

🩸 https://fbczine.carrd.co 🩸 https://bsky.app/profile/fbczine.bsky.social 🩸 www.instagram.com/fbczine/

[jessefadenfbc]

So the Marmonts decided to make their shitty marriage issues into everyone else’s problem too.

[jessefadenfbc]

Day one hundred and eight - Ladder from Alan Wake

[jessefadenfbc]

[jessefadenfbc]

control loop

"This is not funny."

The cement walls don't answer the security staffer back. Her words echo weakly back to her.

Her groan reverberates as she lets her arms fall loose at her sides, marching down the cement corridor again, reaching the corner, turning right, only for--

"Seriously!" She stomps her foot into the floor, like a frustrated victim of a workplace prank. "This is the fifth time! I thought we worked in threes!"

The same corridor stands stalwart ahead of her, exactly the same as the one behind her. The same workplace posters, potted plants, and gross green carpet. The same thing, for the past five corners.

Not, particularly, how this is supposed to work.

But it's the Oldest House. So who's to say how anything should work?

"Okay," she tells the House and herself. "Am I supposed to complete a ritual, or something? You've got a puzzle for me?" The walls do not answer. The posters do not change. The plants don't even sway in some imperceptible draft from the air conditioning the building doesn't have.

Old training and lectures from her superiors and the lab coats in Research start to trickle back to her as she pokes around, trying to nudge furniture and open drawers. Something Dr. Darling said about doing things in threes, and places of power. All stuff she knows, of course-- you can't get hired and be clueless. But she hasn't been in the House too long. Maybe three or four months now. And the lockdown introduced new aspects to this all.

And no ranger or veteran staff is here to help her.

She reaches the end of the corridor again, trying to stay calm, channeling her anxiety into annoyance.

"And we loop again," she says, blinking in surprise when she sees a janitor at the end of the hall. The tinny sounds of his radio drift across the flat cement surfaces, gliding to her, smoothing out her nerves.

An elevator at the end of the hall slides open, in place of the old turn.

She glances behind her, just to be sure nothing has changed. That she hasn't been imagining this.

Did I do something? she wonders. Nothing felt particularly important or impactful.

"Don't discount the little things," the janitor calls to her. He's mopping the tile in front of the elevator, almost in a waltz with his mop, backed by the radio sat on his cart. He chuckles to himself, eyes still on the puddles he sops up.

"Swallowed a lemon, have you?"

"I... pardon?" She walks tentatively down the hall, checking details-- ugly green carpet, same plants, same posters. "Were you stuck in here too? Looping?"

The janitor stops, resting his hands on the top of the mop. The song on his radio ends, and a voice in a language she doesn't recognize starts rattling off... something. She wonders, briefly, if it's a real language.

Maybe "real" is just semantics. Human language? Is that silly to think?

"No," the janitor says. For a brief moment she thinks he's answered her thoughts. He chuckles, turning back to the task at hand. "There's always a mess to clean up."

She reaches him, shoes stopping just shy of the tile, not wanting to interrupt his work. His hair sticks out in different directions, and his uniform hangs on him a bit like a sack, but his eyes have a twinkle in them. He wears an official badge. So there's that, at least.

"The elevator is waiting for you. Will take you right back to where you need to go."

She isn't sure what else to say. But she feels like she should.

She casts one more glance over her shoulder, half expecting the room to have changed.

"Okay," is all she manages. "Thank you."

He grunts something in response, then fishes an old pair of headphones out of his boiler suit breast pocket, and plugs them into the radio, humming to himself.

one word prompts

[jessefadenfbc]

Chapter 3 of Nostalgia Department

:D

[jessefadenfbc]

into the dark

[jessefadenfbc]

While I continue to *patiently* (lying) await the console update to do a new playthrough and take new photos...

...here's some cutting-room-floor Jesse shots for Faden Friday

[jessefadenfbc]

doodle. foundation dlc made me wanna be bffs with former.

[jessefadenfbc]

< More like The Piss >

[jessefadenfbc]

< Due to Congress/Ignorant/Senile budget cuts >

< The Bureau is forced to secure alternative funding >

< BlackStone Siding And Furniture LLC/Front/Shell is now established >

[jessefadenfbc]

Do you wish Jesse and Emily end up together in Control? Like, canonically.

[jessefadenfbc]

Alan is systematically destroying the FBC by *checks notes* typing

[jessefadenfbc]

< It is Casual Friday >