#Virus in Notepad

[esamastation]

I've been writing some first sentences / prompts as idle writing exercise and here's the first 100. You're welcome to use any of them, if you get inspired.

-

Across the deep blue sky streaked a comet, with a purple tail trailing after it like skirts of a dress and several small companions chasing her.

Across the cell the older man farted loudly in his sleep - which was good, since for hours now John had been wondering if he'd gone and died.

Before the grand three story mansion the half a million dollar Porsche burned merrily.

Backstage, half deafened by the deep bass and the beat, Jane threw up all the whiskey she'd been drinking that night. 

"Call me when you get there," was the last words John heard from his mother, before his hometown was engulfed by a blazing inferno. 

Cloud seeding was probably a good idea, once, back when rain was still mostly water and frogs were only a ground level issue.

Dark academia was, in John's honest opinion, an oxymoron - but that didn't mean he didn't look damn good in a waist coat and ascot.

During the end of the world there were a lot of people who wasted their time looting and running - but in the end, it was the people covering under their beds who survived the longest. 

Elephants are unappreciated as hallucinations, in Jane's most expert opinion - with elephants there was rarely any doubt about whether she was hallucinating or not. 

Effervescent, John thought as he bled over his crumpled up crossword puzzle, a gaping hole in his chest, and sighed, who even uses a word like effervescent.

For all the times Jane had driven him mad with her stunts, John loved her crazy ass - he just wished she'd drawn a line before murder.

Fall descended upon the countryside like a knife - with a swift brisk breeze that brought with it a cutting frost and killed all their crops in a single night.

Grave is such an unpleasant place to wake up in. 

Gulls raced the ship to the shore, despite being easily able to outpace her - whether they were like vultures circling a dying beast or doves bringing the message of hope and safety, John welcomed their company nonetheless.

High on the church tower, a little runaway devil was miming the acts of sodomy and making rude gestures at the gathering crowd of shocked and horrified parishioners.

Hot, acrid air blew in through the vents before John shut down the car's air-conditioning - not quickly enough to block out the stench of sulfur.

Inclined to be polite, Jane let the sexy bombshell into her office, even taking a moment to appreciate the figure she made even though she wasn't that kind of detective.

In the last moments of her life before the zombie virus scrambled her brains, Jane thought about John and concluded, there's a man whose brains she'd like to eat.

Just as the bell rang for midnight, the vampire lord took out a notepad and said, "Let's start with your parents, shall we?"

Jackal puppies are kind of cute, thought the mummy, even as they attempted to unravel his binding and probably feast on his desiccated flesh.

Kitchen is a bad place to fight ninjas, John thought, completely tuning out whatever Jane was ranting about; too many knives.

Kicking the door open without looking, John read through the front page again and so completely failed to notice the fact that there were people in his house.

Leading with, "We have only twenty hours to live," might've set an awkward mood for the rest of the meeting - but it was damn effective. 

Lowering the rope feet by feet, Jane cursed her armour; it was pretty and impressive, sure, it got her all the ladies, but it also creaked with every move and the dragon was waking up.

Man's defining flaw is definitely hubris, John decided, but started the jetpack anyway.

Most of the city had already evacuated by the time Jane made it out of the basement, with torn ropes still hanging in her wrist and fury burning like an artificial sun in her chest.

Media tried to give the invaders new names, each more fantastical than the last, but the public had already made its mind - they called the aliens Kaiju right from the start.

"Now that civilisation has fallen, it's the survival of the fittest," declared her former highschool bully, before Jane racked the shotgun.

Night fell upon the office like some kind of hex, wearing on their already frayed nerves; the Deadline approached.

On her deathbed, Jane would announce a game, a treasure hunt to her great fortune - fortune which didn't even exist anymore.

Owned by the worst kinds of people, attracting the worst kind of user base, using the worst tech and implementing the worst kinds of terms and conditions… is it any kind of surprise that virtual reality went on to destroy a whole generation of people?

Parking the spaceship on top of the tallest skyscraper was probably an overkill - but it certainly got the message across.

Power cut off three days after the end - on the exact fucking moment John hooked his electric car to a charger, of course.

Quills aren't great tools for stabbing, maybe - but they hold poison very well.

"Qilin are supposed to mark the king, aren't they?!" he demands while again narrowly avoiding being stabbed by the unicorn deer from hell.

"Questions will be after the presentation," said John firmly to his captive audience, chained to their seats.

Rather than die in ignominy like the rest of her family, Jane made something of herself, digitising her mind at age of thirty and becoming a ship's AI by fifty.

Rest of the tenants were asleep when John broke out through the third floor window - and thanks to a whole lot of sleeping pills, so we're the attendants.

"Verily I say unto thee," slurred the handsome, completely shit-faced elf, "Thou truly art a harlot of the highest degree."

Venting her frustrations by throwing her smart phone across the street was a terrible idea - not only would Jane need a new phone now, but it hit a random passerby smack in the middle of the forehead and now she's going to be sued… again.

Without any damn sense at all, John falls in love on the same day he'd planned to kill his dad.

While busting up some dance moves on the battlefield isn't the best way to win a battle, sometimes it wins out an audience with a king; in unrelated news, Jane thinks she might be about to become the court jester.

"X marks the spot isn't driving directions, John - oh, shit never mind, I see it," Jane says into the phone, and gapes at the house - a true modern masterpiece if she ever saw one.

"X," the alien argues, sounding like a buzzer from a TV show, and lifts a laser gun to emphasise the point.

Yawning as he refilled his coffee cup, John didn't quite register the earthquake until he was two swallows in - moment later, the house begun falling apart

Yesterday everything was fine and Jane's world was normal, ordinary, blessedly boring even; today, she met John again.

Zero effort was spent in writing the actual article; the headline "Aliens Conquer the Moon" by itself was enough to sell the papers.

Zealous isn't how Jane would describe John, exactly; completely batshit crazy is much closer to the mark.

One thing could be said about the whole portal incident; it definitely turned a new leaf in Jane's life.

Two of the bandits had already broken into the back of the wagon - judging by the sound of it, they'd also found the gold.

Three times Jane had thrown John's clothes out of the window and into the street, and he was damn well going to make sure there wouldn't be a fourth time.

Four of Jane's students quit on a monday and another two would follow in the following week; by the end, she'd figured the problem might be her syllabus.

Five new starts lit up the night sky, which by itself was already an astronomically significant event - the fact that they were in a circle made it less significant and more ominous.

Six bullets in John's gun, each with its own target and a plan and chance to change destiny - and he missed each and every fucking time.

Seven is supposed to be the lucky number, but somehow all the worst things in Jane's life happen on the seventh - including this.

Eight coins in his pouch is a pitiful showing for a season's hard labour, except for one thing: they're each and every one of them magic.

Nine years old, John thought grimly looking over the crime scene, the blood, the body, and the unrepentant culprit - nine years old and already with blood on her hands.

"Ten outta ten," Jane breathes, her body limp and her vision full of stars, and sighs happily, "Would fly again."

Already Jane's hands were shaking, and she'd barely begun; cutting up frozen bodies was never going to be her favourite part of the job. 

Before the fire John used to love swimming, but now the scent of chlorine makes him want to cry.

Calling her boss at one in the afternoon to tell him she'd be late, Jane mused whether she should consider moving to an area with fewer reported spatial anomalies.

Deciding he'd had enough of zombie dogs in his lawn, John invested in automated machine guns - big mistake. 

Enemy drone sightings had gotten fewer and fewer in the last two days, as the fires had died down and the base laid in ashes - the plan, it seems, worked.

Figuring out she'd done enough for one day, Jane set aside her saw and hammer and went looking for a dog to play with - it shouldn't be difficult, the estate has about two hundred of them. 

Going with his gut feeling, John got a baseball bat and a trash can lid before investigating the noises coming from his basement - whether it was racoons or demons from the underworld, they wouldn't catch him unawares.

Hiding under her bed was a comfort thing Jane refused to feel ashamed for, not after it had saved her life twice. 

Including the weird kid in the game seemed to be a great idea - up to the point where John started throwing up frogs and Jane started floating during musical chairs.

Joking had been Jane's defence mechanism since she'd been young, and it usually worked, but going "Ey, how you doing?" at a serial killer was probably not the smartest plan. 

Keys rattling like a bunch of chains and his heart pounding in his chest, John peered into the darkened office and lifted his flashlight.

Lifting the well cover, Jane leaned back, fully expecting it to smell awful the way still water not disturbed in decades should - and the fact that it didn't was alarming.

Mowing the lawn on the eve of the asteroid impact might not be the most productive use of his last hours on earth, but John didn't care - even now it brought him peace.

New hires always get the worst jobs, Jane reminded herself while picking everyone's trash around the office - at least she was still being paid.

Oatmeal for breakfast, lunch and dinner got pretty boring after two months, but thank god John had even that much prepared.

Pleased with her progress so far, Jane lifted her hand and wiped John's arm - she isn't sure why he wanted the tattoo of a bunch of random letters all over his arm, but it was coming along nicely.

Quelling his rebellious stomach the best he could, John reached for the baby wipes - changing diapers is a basic fucking task for a dad, and he's going to do it, he's not going to throw up and he's going to do it. 

Rationally speaking, what she was seeing couldn't be what she was seeing - because portals to other worlds weren't real - but in her heart…

Singing as he worked, "Going down to the river,"  John lifted another log over his shoulder - ignoring with long practice the way his coworkers gaped at him.

Trying for several different things was how Jane had gotten where she is now - ballroom dance, coding, waitressing and working at a zoo might look like they had little to do with each other, but each was a useful skill for an assassin.

Under his house there's a basement and under the basement there's dirt, and under that, well, John isn't sure, but whatever it is makes a lot of very concerning noises.

"Vacancies 0," informed the sign of a clearly long abandoned roadside motel - of course they pulled over to check it out., 

Without John at the helm, the ship wouldn't budge, the AI simply refused to respond - which is unfortunate because someone had thrown John out of the airlock about half an hour ago.

Xylitol gum and old cigarettes - there was something very nostalgic about that scent, Jane thought, as she watched the old woman push her shopping cart over the crack in the pavement and right into the ditch.

"You know you're going to have to clean that up, right?" John asked as they watched the blood dye all primary colours of the carpet in hues of red.

"Zoom!" went the kid on her tricycle as she drove right over John's foot that morning, somehow breaking two toes in the process.

The store keeper glared at John and John glared right back - between them the dragon egg rocked gently side to side.

For as long as Jane had known him, she's never seen John read - which isn't really something you notice about a person, not until they have to do the thing… and they clearly can't. 

Finding people was rarely the hardest part of starting a new adventuring party, since there were always some newcomers hanging around the tavern - bringing them all back alive though…

Deciding that he needed some professional help with his problem, John went to consult the wizard, who then pointed him to a witch… who pointed him to a sorcerer… who summoned a demon… who pointed at him and laughed.

Even before everything changed, Jane had had a bad feeling about things, like, the sky shouldn't be that colour and she didn't used to get that many static shocks and the TV didn't use to be that… purple.

John and Jane tossed a coin over who got the first go at the treasure - and of course the coin landed on its side. 

Digging for gold used to be an honourable profession for loners and lunatics - now it's all about grave robbing and tomb raiding.

There was a noise coming from outside like the world was ending, but Jane was almost done with the damn report and not about to let herself be distracted. 

The doctor looked at him sadly, the way they do when there's nothing to do and no time left, and said, "I'm sorry, there's no easy way to put this; sir, you're inflicted with stage two lycanthropy."

When she was a kid, Jane pretended she was capturing fairies and sticking them into her doll house as prisoners - when she turns twenty one, this comes back to bite her in the ass.

Finding out that he got an inheritance from some relative he didn't even know about was one thing, but finding out that he'd inherited what was clearly a haunted mansion?

Before John met Jane, his world was dull and colourless, boring from start of the week to the end - now he can just taste technicolour his world has become… which is probably not a good thing.

There's a monster in Jane's closet, tied up with Christmas lights, hanging from a coat hanger, re-thinking all the choices in his life..

Seven days after his wife left him, John reconnected with his mother and took up the family grimoire again.

For the second time in twenty four hours Jane was sitting down to talk with a dead person - which was, even in her line of work, a bit unusual.

The fact that John went from being a secret agent to a nanny might've amused his brothers - but none of them knew the absolute abominations he was taking care of, and yes, Jane, the sidearm is necessary for his work, thank you very much!

-

Modify them as you see fit, etc etc. If any strike as especially good/horrendous, please let me know!

[evorathesylvurr]

Sinners as programs:

Yi Sang – Cortana/Siri/similar “AI”-that-follows-specific-rules programs. I don’t think poetry generators exist.

Faust – Any calculator game. Look. I love girlfail Faust as much as the next person, but she would be a calculator.

Don Quixote – Shimeji. Ok that’s the post.

Ryoshu – Either comedic malware like Reisenware, actual malware, or mspaint.

Meursault – Windows explorer/non-windows equivalent. He is your file explorer.

Hong Lu – Any digital pet, OR he is a collection of PNGs kept solely on your second monitor for a digital pet rock. I don’t know how to explain this one.

Heathcliff – It’d be far too easy (and a misinterpretation) to go with the malware route. Heathcliff has game engine energy and I am specifically referring to Ren’Py. he’s a Visual Novel engine.

Ishmael – Ishmael is specifically placid plastic duck simulator. No, but actually, Ishmael is any casual game like stardew valley or minecraft. she is never subnautica.

Rodya – Rodya is one of those email websites that boomers adore ❤️ /pos

Sinclair – Sinclair is a book library, like a kindle fire type thing.

Dante – Too easy to say a clock. Dante is an emulator.

Outis – Too easy to say a Trojan virus. She’s honestly a scheduling app.

Gregor – Again, far too easy to say malware (because bugs, get it? I’ll see myself out). He’s notepad.

Bonus:

Charon – An email that glitched out and was sent in like 1786 or whatever the earliest year a computer can claim

Vergilius – Far too easy to say tasque task manager. He’s an antivirus. Scares the viruses into not doing that shit.

Erlking(?) Heathcliff – Yeah he’s malware. He infects your computer, and spreads to other computers.

[noobiestnoober]

How about some more Resident Evil shenanigans lol

You know that one video of interviewing animals with a tiny mic?

https://youtu.be/YOsVpoe5tzY?feature=shared

Imagine that but with Reader going around Raccoon City, interviewing random B.O.W.s with a tiny mic for fun

Ranging from Lickers, random zombies, Tyrants like Mr. X and Nemesis, G-Virus!William(any form), etc.

- @scratchingcatfics658

Wesker's Assistant Chronicles - OPERATION: INTERVIEW WITH A BIO-WEAPON (PART 4)

🎤 OPERATION: INTERVIEW WITH A BIO-WEAPON

“Wesker’s Assistant gets deployed with H.U.N.K. to interview Lickers, Tyrants, and trauma—with a tiny mic. What could go wrong?”

A/N: This unhinged one-shot was inspired by a brilliant anonymous request about interviewing B.O.W.s with a tiny mic—and I simply couldn’t resist. Instead of doing a standalone fic, I thought… why not unleash more chaos and fold it into the Wesker’s Assistant mini-series? The result? A deeply stressed H.U.N.K., a mic-wielding menace, and Nemesis showing up like a skincare-loving bodyguard. Thank you, anon. I had way too much fun with this. Hope you enjoy the carnage! 💉✨

🧠 Genres: crack, parody, horror comedy, found footage energy 📌 Featuring: H.U.N.K., Nemesis, Wesker (off-screen menace), and you 🎧 Keywords: chaotic assistant, tiny mic journalism, weaponized affection, emotional support mutant

Read the previous parts to discover more chaos:

Wesker’s Assistant Chronicles – Masterlist

A Wesker’s Assistant One-Shot Mini-Special

Classified Log – Subject: Umbrella Field Operation Location: Raccoon City Agent Assigned: H.U.N.K. Additional Personnel (Unapproved): Wesker’s Assistant

Wesker’s voice was crisp and cruel, but there was a glint of amusement buried under the disdain. “You disobeyed a direct order, HUNK.”

The man in black didn’t flinch. He stood motionless, arms behind his back, eyes unreadable behind his visor. His silence dared Wesker to continue.

“So I’m assigning you backup. Think of it as… a learning opportunity.”

HUNK’s jaw clenched beneath the mask. Still, he said nothing.

Wesker’s lips twitched, just slightly. “And by backup, I mean her.”

You waved from the back of the room, holding a sparkly pink notepad and a tiny USB mic. “Hi, I’ll be documenting the emotional depth of local B.O.W.s today. Technically, that’s not in the mission brief, but Wesker didn’t say I couldn’t. You know, for science.”

HUNK tilted his head half an inch. “You’re joking.”

Wesker wasn’t.

“And don’t lose her,” he added coolly. “I’ve got a bet going that she’ll outlive the Lickers.”

HUNK said nothing, but you were 90% sure that was his version of swearing internally.

Day One – 07:42 Hours

You were crouched behind a flipped ambulance, holding the tiny mic up like it was a sacred relic. “Excuse me, Mr. Licker, what does love mean to you?”

The Licker shrieked and pounced. A bullet cracked through the air. HUNK dragged you by the back of your vest like a misbehaving puppy.

“Target was hostile,” HUNK muttered, voice clipped, as he adjusted his grip on his weapon. A twitch of his gloved fingers was the only hint of the adrenaline spike he’d just ridden through.

“Yeah, but nonverbal,” you huffed, brushing glass off your sleeves. “I think we were getting somewhere. It twitched when I said ‘vulnerability.’”

HUNK didn’t respond. He just checked his gear. You noted he reloaded like it was an act of vengeance.

A second Licker hissed from a distance. You raised the mic again. “Sir, follow-up—do you feel misunderstood in a world that only sees your claws?”

Another shot rang out. You sighed. “Dramatic silence. I’ll allow it.”

You spent the rest of the day interviewing a rat. “Do you fear assimilation or celebrate mutation?” It squeaked and ran away. You nodded solemnly. “A true minimalist. Speaks volumes.”

Day Two – 15:19 Hours

Mr. X stood towering in a hallway like the world’s grumpiest bodyguard. You stood below him like an entertainment reporter at the Oscars.

“Sir,” you said with a dramatic flourish of your mic, “who’s your hat inspiration? Be honest—are you more of a bold accessory king or subtle fall layering enthusiast? Would you ever consider a scarf for fall?”

He blinked slowly. Then reached for you. HUNK’s boot collided with Mr. X’s ribs mid-grab. “Tyrant engaged. Extraction now.”

“Wait, I didn’t get his skincare routine—” you cried out, half-reach still extended toward Mr. X as you were yanked back like an unwilling correspondent mid-broadcast.

“You’re the extraction,” HUNK snapped, his grip firm and tone flat—though the barely concealed exasperation in his body language said he was regretting not just the mission, but every life choice that led to it.

“He has zero pores,” you muttered as you were yanked backward by your collar. “That’s not natural. I demand answers.”

You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see Mr. X pick up your mic and crush it in his hand like a soda can.

“My tiny mic!” you whimpered, hands outstretched like you'd just watched your firstborn get snapped in half. You dropped to your knees like a fallen soldier. “She was so young.”

“I brought backups,” HUNK said. You blinked. Did… did he plan ahead?

Later that evening, you crouched beside a cracked pillar, whispering into your mic, “This is ambient B.O.W. tension, take three. Very post-apocalyptic. Subtle dread.”

Suddenly, a guttural snarl echoed above. You looked up and saw a Hunter descending like a nightmare ballerina. You shrieked. Loudly. Your mic caught all of it in high fidelity.

HUNK blurred into motion, tackling the creature mid-air in a perfect arc. He slammed it to the ground with practiced ease and pinned it with one boot.

He turned his helmet your way, voice laced with dry fury. “Stop narrating your own death.”

Still breathless, you sat up, checking your recorder. “But it’s for the behind-the-scenes footage. The drama sells it.”

HUNK wiped gore from his visor and muttered something deeply judgmental into the comms.

Day Three – 23:04 Hours

You were pinned against a sewer wall while G-Virus-William stared you down with way too many eyes.

“Hi!” you chirped. “On a scale from 1 to ‘deep internal trauma,’ how would you rate your mutation?”

A tentacle shot forward. HUNK caught it mid-air and launched a flash grenade. “This isn’t an interview. It’s suicide.”

“And yet, somehow, I’m thriving,” you muttered, recording everything on your tiny mic.

“I swear to god if you try to rate his aesthetic—” HUNK growled, his voice nearly drowned out by another roar from William.

You didn’t even blink. With a flick of your wrist, you angled the mic toward the monstrosity and smiled brightly.

“Actually, I was going to ask if he regrets not moisturizing pre-transformation.” You gave a dramatic tilt of your head, like a talk show host pivoting into a deep question. “Because that forehead is doing a lot and none of it is exfoliated.”

Another tentacle slammed into the wall beside you. HUNK fired three precision shots and pulled you back just as acid splattered the cement.

“I am filing this under ��survivor’s guilt journal entry #27,’” you said. “That’s a thing, right?”

“I’m requesting a transfer.” HUNK didn’t shout, didn’t growl—just muttered it with the numb exhaustion of a man who’d fought monsters, wars, and bureaucracy… but nothing like you. His visor tilted slightly upward as if appealing to a higher power that could make it stop.

As you were dragged to safety, you looked over your shoulder. “He didn’t even blink. That’s inner peace. Or rage. Maybe both.”

Day Four – 18:30 Hours

You found a lone zombie gnawing on a car bumper.

“Excuse me, sir, you’re on live audio,” you announced, stepping forward like a roving journalist with a death wish.

It moaned, lifting its head slowly, chunks of metal still wedged between its teeth.

“Do you have any thoughts on capitalism?” you asked with wide, journalistic sincerity, leaning forward like the zombie might have something meaningful to add. “Or perhaps the ethics of viral-based bioengineering?” You tilted your head, like this was the most natural small talk in the world between two intellectuals. The zombie groaned in response, tilting its jaw, which you interpreted as 'deep disapproval of corporate greed.'

It lunged with a guttural snarl. HUNK didn’t look up. His arm moved like muscle memory—one clean shot to the forehead. The body dropped.

“You’re asking philosophical questions to corpses,” he said dryly, voice edged with disbelief.

“And you’re expecting progress from bullets,” you replied, undeterred, wiping blood off your mic with a tissue printed with little skulls. “We all cope differently.”

“I’m asking the real questions,” you added, turning your mic back on with a click.

Later, you stood before a broken vending machine, one hand on your hip. “Mr. Machine, how does it feel to be the unsung hero in apocalyptic morale?”

The lights flickered once. Nothing dispensed.

“You’re losing it,” HUNK muttered behind you, voice muffled by sheer disbelief.

“I was never holding it,” you beamed, scribbling in your notepad: "Snack dispenser: emotionally unavailable."

Day Five – 13:45 Hours

You crouched beside the Cerberus, holding out a sparkly band-aid with a smile like you were offering candy to a toddler.

“Easy, buddy,” you cooed, crouching low and extending the band-aid like a peace offering. Your tone was soft, coaxing, like a kindergarten teacher talking to a tantrum-prone child. You gave a hopeful grin. “Let’s address those anger issues constructively—maybe with fewer teeth?”

It barked. Then bit your arm.

You screamed. “Rude!”

“Wow, so aggressive,” you muttered through clenched teeth, inspecting the bite. “We’ll circle back to trauma later. This feels unresolved.”

HUNK tasered the creature without hesitation. The Cerberus collapsed with a loud thud, still twitching. He turned and glared at you, his stance taut with disbelief. “You waved at it.”

“It wagged its tail!” you argued, holding up your now-bleeding forearm like evidence.

“That was bone displacement,” HUNK added flatly, eyeing your enthusiasm like it was a contagious disease. He didn’t even bother to look at the wound—his entire stance screamed “I told you so” without saying another word.

You huffed. “You say tomato, I say emotional wag.”

Day Six – 12:00 Hours

Wesker’s voice crackled through HUNK’s comms like static-soaked sarcasm.

“Sending additional reinforcement. Codename: Nemesis.”

HUNK froze.

“That’s not reinforcement. That’s escalation.” HUNK’s voice was tight, jaw grinding audibly through the comms as he stared into the middle distance.

You perked up instantly from where you were organizing gummy worm rations by emotional color spectrum—pink for betrayal, green for envy, blue for seasonal sadness. Your eyes lit up with manic delight. “Wait—Nemy’s coming?!” You scrambled upright, nearly knocking over your chart. “I need to find his loofah!”

Fifteen minutes later, Nemesis stomped into the ruined parking structure, dragging a rocket launcher and blinking affectionately. You waved. He blinked again. Then crouched down and pulled something out of a pouch. A mini scented candle. Lavender.

“He remembered!” you gasped, clutching your mic.

HUNK stood off to the side, arms crossed. “You have a history with this thing?”

“He’s emotionally complex,” you said proudly, lighting the candle. “Also, he likes cucumbers and pink bath bombs.”

Nemesis grunted. “STARS.”

You handed him a fresh mic with a glittery sticker on it. “Want to co-host?”

He accepted it gently between two claws. HUNK visibly aged ten years.

Two hours into the mission, Nemesis had carried you bridal-style across a collapsed fire escape, intercepted a Licker mid-air with one hand, and body-blocked a flaming truck for you.

HUNK, panting and covered in soot, stared at the two of you. His helmet slowly tilted upward, as though looking to the sky and asking whatever gods were out there, “Why me?”

“You were supposed to be bait,” he muttered, voice raspy with smoke and barely-contained despair.

You patted Nemesis’s arm with affection and placed a party hat delicately atop his head, the elastic struggling to stretch under his mutated chin. “He’s my emotional support weapon,” you declared, as if that explained everything.

Nemesis gave a low rumble, the kind of sound that could collapse drywall—but this one somehow sounded pleased.

HUNK’s arms dropped to his sides, as if the sheer absurdity had sapped the last of his will to fight. “You’re both banned from field operations.”

You blinked innocently. “Wesker doesn’t have that authority.”

“He made the authority,” HUNK replied, with the bitterness of a man who once believed rules could still protect him from madness.

Final Log – 04:01 Hours

You and HUNK sat in silence, bloodied, burnt, and absolutely done. He stared ahead—posture rigid, visor dark, as if reliving every explosion, scream, and unsolicited interview question from the past six days. You sat next to him on a broken crate, legs swinging idly, sipping juice from a Capri Sun like a child on a field trip.

You side-eyed him. "You know, you could’ve let me die."

“I tried,” HUNK replied, his voice tired and gravel-worn, like the statement cost him something personal.

“I know. I appreciate the consistency,” you said with a nod, as if he’d handed you a bouquet instead of a confession of attempted negligence.

“…You’re out of mic batteries,” he added after a beat, already bracing for the answer.

“I have more in my sock,” you replied cheerfully, pulling a triple-pack of color-coded backup mics from your boot like it was a clown car.

He didn’t even flinch. He just sighed. Loudly. Visibly. Existentially.

“I named your rifle,” you said softly, as if confessing a deep, emotional truth. You looked at him with all the sincerity of someone unveiling a masterpiece, eyes wide with pride and a hint of chaos.

HUNK finally turned his head toward you with slow, aching deliberation. “What.”

“Baby Boomstick.”

There was a beat of silence so heavy it could've been listed as a combat hazard.

“You’re insane,” HUNK muttered, almost admiringly, like one might describe a wild animal that knows how to open jars.

“Emotionally enriched,” you corrected, sipping your Capri Sun with serene finality.

He stared into the abyss. The abyss stared back. You offered it a sticker.

Post-Mission Debrief

Wesker reviewed the footage: Lickers shrieking. Mr. X walking away in visible confusion. William growling into a mic. Zombies moaning under poorly timed interview attempts. Nemesis lighting scented candles. HUNK exhausted. You giggling.

He threw the tablet across the room. “She’s still alive.”

Moments later, another report pinged in. Wesker squinted at the monitor, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t even open the file—just sighed like a man who had lost a chess match to a pigeon.

“I should’ve sent her to Antarctica.”

“Subject attempted to interview T-078 Tyrant with the phrase: ‘You strike me as a misunderstood romantic. Thoughts?’”

Wesker groaned into his hands. “She’s still alive and spreading quotes.”

(Interview rating: 10/10. Would annoy again.)

Read Part 5 >>> HERE <<<

[goldenflowers]

idia frantically trying to explain basic technology to riddle as if riddle was an 80 year old man and having him write on a goofy anime character notepad and type on a laptop with custom keycaps that don't have any letters on them while malleus bangs on the door and there are error codes popping up over the screen as if malleus is a computer virus is just. SO fucking insane in all the best ways. they're literally at risk of one of the most powerful mages in the entire world keeping them and all of sage's island trapped in their own dreams for 1,000 years and idia explained that to riddle as "you'll be forced to repeat a grade 1000 times", and then made him memorize 3 giant computer manuals in less than 5 minutes 😭😭

[midnight1nk]

y̶͙̍o̶̳̚ṵ̶́r̵͓͗ ̵͚̔m̷͖̋o̴̳͆v̵̧̓e̴̦̒ ̴͕́S̵̭̎M̵͙̓G̶̖͘4̷̬̆

IGBP REFERENCES & CONNECTIONS IN "THE MARIO PC VIRUS" EPISODE

[spoilers ahead]

✧

✧

✧

✧

✧

Ambition

the project SMG4 is working on and motive

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 0:10]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 0:56]

"Say the line, SMG4!"

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 0:10]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 0:20]

Need Some Editing Help?

Computer buddy

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 2:04 to 2:25]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 4:02 to 4:19]

Leave A Note

oh hey, Windows Notepad

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 2:28 to 2:43]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 4:02 to 4:19]

(and the fact that SMG4 uses a Windows PC ~Ink)

Every Mario's Worried for SMG4

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 3:28]

[SMG4: Mario Steals The Constitution // timestamp 2:50]

A Loss of Work and Patience

An event cuts off Four from his progress and noise being what ultimately pushes him to take action

Plus, Mario Buddy plays "relaxing" music for SMG4, which 4 is not a fan

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 3:30 to 3:50]

SMG4: "SHUT UP!! CAN YOU ALL SHUT UP?!?! LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!!"

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 3:25 to 3:55]

They're Always Watching

File Names (as much as I could decipher) from left to right, top to bottom:

[Default]

Blue Screen

Green Screen

Pure Red Screen

Pure Green Screen

Pure Blue Screen

Green 1

Green 2

purple 1

purple 1\puzzle

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 6:11]

Left to right, top to bottom:

[Default]

Blue Screen

Pure Red Screen

Pure Green Screen

Pure Blue Screen

green screen

purple screen

vn

vnooom(??)

name(??)

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 1:07 to 1:09, 2:44]

(Gonna do a whole theory dedicated to Goop!4 and bring back my analysis of the eye designs ~Ink, again)

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie]

PC Takeover Through Mother Board and Mind

Four's PC controlling its system vs the PC controlling Four

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 0:05 to 0:10, 8:03 to 8:16]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect Movie Countdown stream]

Did Somebody Call For (Military) Backup?

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 9:30 to 13:53]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 13:39 to 13:53]

A Sacrifice

Time, sweat, and tears went into his work but he was forced to left behind (the virus, to save 3)

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 11:58]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 1:07 to 1:09, 2:44]

Your End of the Deal

a deal offered through the computer buddy to aid Four's work but they demand something in return (star of Four's videos vs. control over Four)

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 12:06 to 12:40]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 30:58 to 31:11]

The Choice

knowing his self-worth :)

[The Mario PC Virus // timestamp 12:44 to 12:50]

[It's Gotta Be Perfect movie // timestamp 34:00 to 35:00]

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Ink here! That's all the ones I could find, but if I missed one, let me know, and I'll add it to the list. Four has really come a long way, and, believe it or not, he learned his lesson from IGBP.

Of course, he accidentally installed Mario Buddy, not a suspicious keyboard offered by Mr Puzzles. But once he realized what he had done, he tried everything he could to get rid of the program (after some fun).

By the end, when Bonzi offered to give Four's files back while in turn allowing the PC buddy to be the star of his video, Four had a choice. Past Four wouldn't have hesitated because that literally was his work. I've been in a situation like this and golly, I would've done anything to get it all back. Instead, Four gave his PC up, similar to how Four gave up the USB with the perfect video (one he has worked on for WEEKS nonstop) to save SMG3.

(...should I even count all the scenes where SMG4 and SMG3 caring for one another?)

AND despite everything, he is still SMG4, a content creator with the wish to make people happy. Well, of course he wants his videos to be higher quality. It's his job as a YT creator and meme guardian, you can't just ask him to NOT make videos. The whole reason IGBP happened in the first place is because he felt that he wasn't good enough for his friends, driving himself to be perfect to prove that he deserves the Crew. But lesson learned, through Three's speech: he doesn't need to be perfect, his friends will always be there for him regardless. They care for him and it was worth risking their lives to save him from the possession.

He can always make another video but they can't have another SMG4.

Whatever his next big project is (the Castle, Meme Factory, videos in general), he'll do it with passion but never alone. Just as Four said at the end of IGBP: "...it may be different, but as long as we're all together, I'm sure it's gonna be perfect!"

So, he made his choice, giving up his PC because there is nothing to prove to anyone.

so.... SMG4 Team....

WHAT'S WITH THE IGBP CALLBACKS—

[ghosty-writes-23]

I've been listening to a band called Ghost on repeat and it has inspired me to request this:

a crack treated seriously oneshot with RE4! Leon and an amateur heavy metal musician! Reader who was Ashley's college roommate and they were also kidnapped.

Reader never leaves without their guitar, often looks for the positive in everything, and knows how to put on a show!

They've written songs based on what they've encountered in their experience in Spain lol

(feel free to delete this ask if you're uncomfortable with writing something like this)

RE4!Leon & Musician!Reader One-shot.

!TAGS!: Pure Fluff, You Mental Health Matters, Flashbacks, Gender Neutral, Nightmares, Comfort, Music. 

Word Count: 1k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, thank you so much for another request I love writing these, sorry if this one is a little short, I tried to but everything in here that you asked for, maybe expect the crack part which I hope you don’t mind and I didn’t know if you wanted romance with Leon or not so I just didn’t add it and tried to make this as Gender neutral as possible.

Thank you for all the support, it means a lot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

----------

2 Months….

It has been two months since you were kidnapped and taken to Spain by a dangerous cult, where you had gotten infested with a virus they called the las Plagues, watched a man you had started to think of as a friend die before your every eyes.

The only positive to everything was you had your collage roommate with you Ashley Graham, the president’s daughter, but as time went on your started to think you were both doomed, even if you tried to use your humor and positive attitude to distract her from the danger you were both in.

You thought you were never going to get out, that was until you meet Agent Leon Kennedy, he had been sent by Ashley’s father to come and find you both, he was like a guardian angel but you should have known that was only going to be the start of one hellish night of survival, stopping a ritual, killing monsters of all kinds, and a few games at a shooting range that was set up by a merchant that seemed to always follow you around the island, he always welcomed Ashley, Leon and you with a friendly “hello stranger.” Whenever you visited him.

After battling your way through the island with Leon to rescue Ashley from the many times she got kidnapped, to a point it was starting to get on your nerve, you tried to stay positive and when you had a chance to settle you found a little notepad and a pencil and started to drum your fingers on your leg in a soft beat as a song rhythm came to your head as well as some lyrics.

“What you writing there?” Leon asks as he placed the last of the barricade on the door, this should give you some safety for now. “A song?” you say not looking at him as you keep writing, you almost had the whole chorus done.

“You’re a musician?” Leon said with an eyebrow raised, but you could hear the curiosity in his tone. “Amateur one, but a study music theory and instruments at University.” You say before you looked up at him, he nodded his head as he was checking out the area, it was raining heavy and would make it harder to walk in the muddy trails as it would leave footprints.

“Gotta a style you like playing?” Leon asked as he came and sat beside you, glancing at the notepad with your handwriting scribbled onto it. “Heavy mental mostly, but I do sometimes play other gene’s.” you say glancing at him, even with the light conversation you couldn’t help the worrying feeling that had settled into your gut.

“do you think Ashley will be okay.” You asked Leon wanting a serious answer, he took a few seconds as if he was really thinking about his answer before nodding his head. “yes she will be okay, we will save her I promise both of you will get out of here safely.” Leon promised you and it warmed your heart know Leon was going to protect both you and Ashley and get you home safe and sound.

And Leon Kept to his word, both you and Ashley had returned home safe and sound, maybe with a few new scars and cuts, but they could be easily treated in the medical centre, her father came and gave Ashley a huge hug, he always had tears in his eyes seeing his daughter was home in one piece, your parents had come to visit as well and gave you heaps of hugs and kisses, they were just happy to see you were alive and well

But even if you now settled in back in your dorm room, it didn’t stop the nightmares have plagued your mind ever since you had returned home, every time you closed your eyes you had visions of the cult drawings there symbol on your face with blood, the pain that ran though your body when the Las Plagus virus was running through your body, you would wake up in a cold sweat, panting as your clothes stuck to your body.

In moments like this you did the only thing that brought you comfort, you started writing what you were feeling and about your experiences in Spain and in your nightmares, and soon a couple minutes of writing turned into a couple hours of writing song music’s and using your guitar and pulling together a song and in the morning you show Ashley and she loved it and thought you should perform it, to which you thought was a good idea in due time.

You had never performed in front of people, but you knew you could put on a good show, but what a lot of your friends or people didn’t know was you had stage fright and would choke up in front of an audience, which was why you would rather just keep your concerts in the privacy of yours and Ashley’s dorm room.

But after much convincing Ashley finally got you to record a demo of a coupe of your songs, she was so proud of you and encouraged you to make more copies and sell them. To which you told her you would think about it, but deep down you were a little nervous about, But you decided to take the leap and made a small batch and handed them out at your guys Uni.

Ashley even gave Leon a copy to which you felt slightly embarrassed about, but she reassured you he would love it. It wasn’t until a couple weeks later, Ashley was handing you a small note and said it was from Leon, you opened the note, and a smile came onto your face.

I loved the demo, keep it up and one day you will be a great musician. – Leon.

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[mylove-thresher]

Can I get the virus Narancia lore it seems delicious also your dog is adorable

I’m an absolute yapper so of course xd

ok so tbh I’m tryna pull my ideas together bc to me everything is a multiple endings game since I have so many thoughts but so far I think I have something pretty solid

so basically as usual narancia dies but uh. Idk man. His soul was kinda wandering around (whether he was conscious or a “leaf flying in the wind” situation) and I guess it got stuck in Fugo’s computer. To me they’re connected in every universe. Doomed or not. So narancias soul was naturally attracted (like literal magnets) to Fugo’s surroundings. So um. He kinda became a computer virus (question mark. He’s just similar to one, but he might have full control over the computer like it’s the system itself. I think he’d be able to turn it on and off, open files and move them around at will, etc. He can also see outside of the computer screen, seeing as he interacts with fugo (who is absolutely fucking terrified).) So when he first pops up in his pc he’s either very curious as to where he is and what’s going on (“leaf flying in the wind” situation) or he is fully conscious of what’s happening (purposefully going into fugo’s pc). Honestly I think he’s trying to ignore the fact that he’s dead by acting like usual and avoiding the topic. I feel like people don’t realize they’re dead until they, well, realize it. Takes them a while. Or at least in this au, I’m not yapping ab irl or anything 😭.

Switching it up to fugo now, I think he’s just constantly panicking and screaming and crying bc wtf why is his dead friend in his pc LMAOOOO fugo is just absolutely traumatized he tries breaking his pc, changing his usbs to see if any of any of them have a virus, checking his internet downloads, etc. Anything and everything to see what the fuck is going on and how to get rid of this torturous shit. Meanwhile narancia is just opening tabs randomly, showing him funny vids and typing stuff in notepad docs. Like genuinely just trying to be friendly and silly like before but I don’t think he knows how scary this must be for fugo.

fugo feels sad, scared and perhaps guilty (this takes place around the time of phf, except phf isn’t real here. Just using the start of phf as a way to locate this au in time. Oh also I don’t think stands exist here bc… too tedious. So Fugo knows narancia is dead, in conclusion.) he’d probably think he’s coming back to haunt him and thinks he’s not just in his pc, but everywhere. (And it might be true! I did a drawing (that I haven’t posted yet, expect more later) ab narancia in Fugo’s phone, so maybe he is able to move from electronic to electronic)). Fugo becomes paranoid (PARANOIIIIDDD PARANOIIIIIDDDD PARANOIIIIIIDDDDD YEAHHH 🗣️ (I’m sorry. T,TC fan here.)) and fidgety (I hc he fidgets w his tie and earrings… like me… ugh… 💔) and narancia is just making jokes ab it 😭. His ass does NOT know how panicky fugo feels. Fugo just wants to be left alone and use his pc but Nara fucking pops up and fugo throws his mouse at the screen every time EKISDE. Kinda like. Narancia jumpscare…

so anyway, idk what happens in between (or maybe I do but I don’t remember my ideas), but at the end, fugo starts being less scared and just more depressed about it. He’s kinda realizing narancia is trying to avoid realizing he’s dead, so he just wants him to let go of him. Like dawg ily but let me go. It’s kinda like narancia is clinging to the last things he liked. In fact, one of the reasons he’s in the pc (more like, remains in it) is bc of his old games. I think fugo let Narancia play games on his pc bc they’re friends duh. And after Nara died Fugo kept forgetting to delete his games, but he might’ve just felt too sad to let go of something that his late friend loved so much, something that gave them fun memories. Narancia is also still in the pc bc he likes fugo (/p or not, I think this can be either and still be coherent. I like fugonara but I also like when it’s platonic lolz) and obv wants to hang out w him like before. Fugo also would’ve wanted things to go back to normal NOT in that way. he’s having a breakdown every time virus Nara appears so um. Yeah 😭. (I mean wtf r u supposed to do if ur dead friend appears in ur pc bro)

So eventually virus Nara has to fucking go bc. I said so. I want this to be a bit sadder than it might already be. So he either breaks the fucking pc OR, an idea I rlly liked, he deletes Narancia’s game files. In one of my drawings, I added the file icon for his games and one of Narancia’s notepad docs next to it saying to not delete them. He probably was saying that in a “dude I love those games, don’t delete them” way, but maybe he was connected to that file. Not in a way that he knew, but he still was linked to it. It was basically his core, in the pc. So if fugo deleted the game files, he might’ve gotten rid of him. I also think fugo could’ve also left the pc. Not in a “moving out” or “selling an old or malfunctioning item” way. He might have not been able to handle all his feelings and emotions and this unintentional torture, so um. He fucking killed himself. Err. Yeah. I don’t know if this would be a well made plot point, but to me it just feels real. If I was in his situation after all of that, I’d definitely have considered it at least once. And maybe that wasn’t the only cause, I just think he’d be at active suicide risk 😭. (Btw that drawing I posted most recently ab the au is how narancia would’ve reacted. He would’ve felt forgotten since fugo didn’t interact with the pc in days. You know what. New idea. Fugo’s soul joined Narancia’s in the pc. Fuck everything. As I said, they’re together in every universe, like magnets. /p or not. Somebody glue them together please)

I thiiinnnnkkk that was it? I definitely left out some stuff. But that’s just me forgetting my own shit 😭. Hope it was yummy wummy bc I think im gonna actually put some good dedication into it.

(My dog is a pretty princess ❤️)

[concook20]

The Virus (AU) 2

Same thing like I said before, only this time though, it's the villains turn! Hope you enjoy!

Part 1/Part 2

Pt 2: Villains

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️

Mention of body horror, death, blood, amputation, cannibalism, sexual assault, and suicidal thoughts

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️

Zach Varmitech

Age: 24 years old

Mental Status: Stable, somewhat, but very exhausted and traumatized

Inventory: Robot parts (just in case), tool kit, axe, his own CPS he built, canteen, night vision goggles, and notepad and pen

What happened to Zach?: Like Aviva, he is also exhausted and helps her figure out what this is, but he's suffering PTSD from seeing many people becoming animals in a brutal way. He couldn't figure out what that does, but he knows that the person is still alive, meaning they're still suffering.

Zach wrote down his time with the team, how he is beginning to like Aviva and Chris, don't mind Koki and JZ, but is very scared of Martin, not knowing what he'll do next after some outbursts he does.

Donita Donata

Age: 25 years old

Mental Status: Stable, somewhat only very traumatized

Inventory: A picture of Dabio, machete, a pistol and ammo, med kit, fabric and sewing kit, and batteries

What happened to Donita?: She just wanted a zebra for its stripes... That's all she ever wanted with Dabio... But when she was taunting the brothers, they heard Dabio screaming in agony, as they ran to see him getting eaten alive. After that, not only Martin blames himself for not saving Chris better, but also, Donita hates herself and blames herself for Dabio's death.

She couldn't sleep right, eat anything, or even think right when she hears about someone mentioning Dabio or losing someone close to her, whereas she even looks at the bodies that look just like Dabio...

Gaston Gourmand

Age: 41 years old

Mental Status: Stable, somewhat, but can be unpredictable, somewhat

Inventory: Knives (Kitchen knife, hunting knife, butcher knife, etc), rifle and ammo, binoculars, canteen, snacks, med kit

What happened to Gourmand?: After this started, he had a near death experience, where an animal attacked him, which he survived from, only has a blind eye. He notices Martin's outburst and helps him out of doing something crazy, but he still has some outbursts, too.

He and JZ are the chefs, where they became somewhat acquainted, to the point he helps JZ use a gun in order to protect himself.

Paisley Paver

Age: 35 years old

Mental Status: Stable, but very exhausted

Inventory: Axe, med kit, flashlights (enough), medicine, pistol and ammo, hiking axe, and canteen

What happened to Paisley?: Like Aviva and Zach, she's exhausted, but she tries to be helpful. She is mostly worried about Rex though, after he lost a limb to protect her, which she's very grateful for, keeping a close eye on Rex to see if anything happened, even staying up at night, where she talks to Aviva mostly about this.

Rex Grayson

Age: 35 years old

Mental Status: Stable, but very traumatized

Inventory: Pistol and ammo, flashlights, machete, tool kit, medicine, bandages, and knife

What happened to Rex?: After he got his arm cut off, he thought he would be fine and such, however, he feels anxious, has many nightmares, and is still paranoid that the bite might still work, even if they cut it off. The only thing that gives him comfort is Paisley, after she tries to take care of him, which he's grateful for, but he knows she needs sleep

Chris was the one who cut off his arm, so he thanked him for that, even if it hurt as hell. He's very nervous to be left alone, so he stays close to anyone just in case, like Paisley and Chris, but he's still fine...

Though... Three of them will die...

That's all who survived! Hope this helps!

[aylen-san]

Welcome to my reality. No, not the one where I tower in horror over Middle-earth with the last armies of orcs and a darkness that envelops all life. Today's reality is far more... modern. If someone had told me thousands of years ago that I would one day be in an ordinary apartment with a cup of coffee in hand, surrounded by the blue-white glow of monitors, I would have laughed. But now? Now this is my life.

Morning, as it is: a debrief with coffee Oh, that sweet awakening. The alarm clock rings. My eternal wrath could destroy it, but why? It's all part of the modern routine. I, Sauron, the great lord of evil, now wake up not to an army but to the sound of a smartphone alarm, so I can sit at the kitchen table and pour myself a coffee—strong, black, like my view of the world.

Ah, coffee. Perhaps in the modern era, it's the bitterness that I find appealing. Every morning, it's a ritual: I sit in front of the computer, scrolling through social media and the news. The design here is actually quite inspiring: black screens, white letters. It all feels so office-cold that I involuntarily smile. "News from Mordor" could be a popular blog.

Remote work, same old job: Zoom meetings and evil schemes How times have changed, haven't they? In my past, I led armies in person, standing at the front lines. And now... now I spend most of my day in Zoom meetings. Yes, even the Dark Lord has to deal with modern bureaucracy. Orcs need management, tasks need assigning, KPIs are sacred. Technology has made my dark work more sustainable.

— "Urgash, what’s going on with the weapon shipment? Why don’t we have the third-quarter report on the allocation of eastern lands?" I ask with cold resolve, looking into the camera, only to hear confused muttering in response.

Orcs, of course, can’t handle Google Sheets. But what can you do? Routine.

Office equipment and old habits My workspace is a modern masterpiece. Cold-lit lamps, an ultramodern laptop with a keyboard glowing with a faint, almost infernal light. All this allows me to devise new plans to conquer Middle-earth with high efficiency. Software? Oh, trust me, even a palantír would envy the power of my server.

But some habits remain unchanged. A glance at a smoldering notepad reminds me of runes and ancient spells. I wonder if I could code the way I once cast curses—would I be able to create a virus to take over the entire internet? Then again... no, we’ve seen where that leads. And if the system crashes, I’m not ready to lose my bookmarks.

Lunch breaks: yes, even dark lords need to eat Ah, lunch breaks. They’ve become part of modern Sauron’s life. Don’t think I’ve lost my taste for brutal bloodshed. No, that’s in the past. Now my lunch consists of something more grounded. A cold salad, maybe a couple of sandwiches, and, of course, another cup of coffee. Only the grim taste of dark bread reminds me of the old days.

— “Delivery for Mr. Sauron?” — a knock at the door. Naturally, food delivery. Even cuisine today has become a sort of twisted pleasure. Strange. The once elegant culinary masterpiece—roasted flesh—is now replaced by avocado toast. Though, to be honest, they’re quite good.

Fitness by the call of darkness Of course, physical fitness is as important for a Dark Lord as for any modern mortal. A treadmill awaits me in the bathroom. No, I don’t go outside. Mordor is still a long way from glamorous park trails. Still, if I must exist in this new, modern world, I can at least maintain my strength. Cardio is power, they say. Power? Ha! Let them know power when I’m in full battle form.

After the run—a few minutes on the punching bag. No, I haven’t lost my skills! Even in a world where leaders rule through screens, old methods still work. Deep down, I’m still ready to crush anyone who dares stand in my way.

Evening leisure: shows and dark conspiracies What else to do in the evening, when the office lights dim? Of course, watch shows. Oh, how elegantly modern shows portray power dynamics. My streaming subscriptions are quite diverse: from Game of Thrones to dark detective stories. In these tales, I see myself—though in a much less epic form, it’s still satisfying to watch others make mistakes.

— "Seriously? Did you really think that conspiracy would work?" — I whisper as I watch yet another villain's plan fall apart. Perhaps, if they’d hired me as a consultant...

Reflections before sleep: what went wrong? When night falls and my monitors dim, I sit on the windowsill and look at the sky. No stars, of course—the city lights drown them out. Even in such a world, illusions of power and light don’t add true strength. I ponder how the world might have changed if my plans had worked out sooner. But then I realize that even in this new world, I can still become its lord.

Only now, my army will consist not of orcs but of fans, liking my posts and retweeting each of my new brilliant plans.

End of the day: Darkness will always find a way So, there you have it, a day in the life of Sauron in the modern world. Not so terrifying, you’d say? Oh, but what do you know? Even in this modern world, Darkness will always find its way. And while you think I’ve become but a shadow of the past, remember: I’m always watching you. Through your screens, through your reflection in darkened windows.

And who knows, maybe tomorrow, your alarm will ring just a bit too loudly...

[chiiyozakki]

albedo high school au

it's too long smh definitely not an albedo simp

probably ooc it is 2am

-- notepad --

albedo is that one smart guy that everyone -- even you -- can rely on. be it art projects, science experiments, or even fixing a minor issue in someone's gadgets, he's always more than happy to help. and you can't deny he's good at it.

for some reason you don't like how effortlessly he can do all those things. maybe you're just envious of him; but if that was the case, you wouldn't be staring at him with a blush on your face.

well, unfortunately for you that day, your laptop went haywire. you tried fixing it on your own with all the laptop things you know, but to no avail.

seeing how things are, you have no choice but to walk up to the young man, who was having his leisure time reading a book.

you hesitantly ask for his assistance, barely managing to keep yourself from stuttering. albedo didn't mind this at all, and got to working on your laptop straight away.

a good while passes and soon he's all done with it.

voila, it's fixed! good as new.

quietly screaming at yourself for asking this stupid idiot for help, you walk back to your desk, which was a few rows behind his.

after checking some files you notice a weird file simply named "*.txt."

"goddamnit, did this guy put a virus in my laptop?!"

you take a deep breath and click on it, only to be greeted by a little note.

"143 <3"

what does 143 mean? i love you, obviously. it even has a heart.

you look back at him with a face as red as a hotdog, while he remains as calm as ever.

"i swear to barbatos, all you brainiacs are weird!"

[yoonstudios]

my younger brother was experimenting and tried making a virus (he didn't have malicious intentions) and he told me it failed miserably and i asked him what programming languages he used and he said "notepad" and i took 15 points of psychic damage

[drakothedragon55]

You remember the devlogs from Kaycee’s Mod? Well, here’s my spin on them for the Apocalyption AU. If they were real, they’d be accessible without Kaycee’s Mod (though still needing to be unlocked.)

— Devlogs and DATA (Part 1/2) —

LOG 1

Today I finally get to do something meaningful with this company. From the day they hired me, all I got to do was bug hunt and playtest weird games from franchises that no one has even heard of.

I know that I’m not the most experienced coder out there, but come on! I can do so much more than what they’re letting me.

Anyways, they’re letting me work on this new project. Inscription, I believe it’s called? I know virtually nothing about it. But hey. I’m sure It’l be more fun than reporting glitches all day.

LOG 2

It’s been a day or two since I started working on Inscryption, and I have to admit: it seems promising. I mean, how many virtual card games are out there? At least it’s not an UNO clone.

I’ve only done small things so far like making sure that certain animations display properly. It’s another 2D game, just like GameFuna’s previous works, but it looks like some 3D stuff will be implemented later on, which is cool.

I’m considering poking around the files when I get the chance. Wonder what other neat stuff I can find in here before it’s inevitably left on the cutting room floor.

LOG 3

So, I was looking through some folders when I found this file that looked out of place. It was labelled as ‘OL_CARD.zip’, so I decided to unzip it. What I got was a single exe file that did nothing when opened. Must’ve been a card placeholder or something?

Anyways, I left it alone because the last thing I want is some higher-up getting mad at me for ‘tampering with the game.’ Besides. I kinda want to look into it some more.

Now all I gotta do is find it. Call me crazy, but it’s not in the folder I last saw it in. I swear, I’m gonna be seriously angry if this is some virus.

LOG 4

ITS FUCKING ALIVE HOLY SHIT

LOG 5

Note to self: redo log 4.

I still don’t know what’s going on, but when I booted up Inscryption, there was this red mass of pixels right outside Leshy’s cabin. I tried interacting with it, and a text box full of gibberish showed up.

I decided to ignore it and check up on the scrybe, and I found that Leshy seemed…off. His personality still isn’t very fleshed out, but he seemed to be on edge. The other NPCs in the area were, too. That’s when I shut off the game.

But that damn red thing was on my desktop now. It couldn’t open a text box with Inscryption closed, so it opened Notepad instead. Let me copy and paste what it said.

H̷e̶l̴l̷o̶ ̴t̴h̴e̸r̸e̵!̸ ̵:̸)̶

I wish I was making this up. Is this some kind of advanced AI? If so, why are they keeping it hidden in this random-freaking file tucked away in the back of a card game?

I have so many questions. And a part of me wants to ask this thing for answers.

LOG 6

Out of every single employee, I’m the one who gets the haunted game. Seems about right considering my luck.

Well, I’m not sure if this thing is a ghost or not. I’ve been talking to ‘Olcard’ by adding text into the code, and it’s been responding with those bugged text boxes. At least it’s getting better at using them.

Whatever it is, it’s really curious about the game and its development. I’ve asked my fellow coders if anything similar is happening to them, and they all give me weird looks. I’m half expecting to wake up any minute now.

I’ve finished up Leshy’s area and I’m working on Grimora’s next. Olcard gave me some good tips when I got stuck, so I think keeping him around a little while longer wouldn’t hurt anyone.

[fromdevcom]

It is common knowledge than an antivirus program is one of the best ways to keep a device or network security. What is not very well known is that the choice of antivirus has a profound effect on how secure a device will be. It is important to avoid free antivirus programs as they will often consume system resources without adequately protecting your device. They should never be a first or sole line of defense. If you do have an antivirus program installed, make sure to check that it is working correctly.How To Check an Antivirus Program - The EICAR Test FileThe quickest and most standardized way to check your antivirus is using the European Institute for Computer Antivirus Research (EICAR) testing file. The EICAR testing file is a string included in most antivirus programs for testing purposes. The string is meant to act like a virus so that the software will detect it. You can download the file or alternatively you can create one yourself quite easily. Save the following string into a notepad file and save it as EICAR.COM.X5O!P%@AP[4PZX54(P^)7CC)7}$EICAR-STANDARD-ANTIVIRUS-TEST-FILE!$H+H*When you save the file, it should trigger an alert automatically on your antivirus program. Windows Defender picks up on it within 10 seconds and triggers an alert, and most antivirus kits will automatically quarantine the file. Other Security MethodsThere are other ways to ensure your antivirus is working correctly and to secure your machine. If you have a Windows device, make sure that updates are scheduled. While these updates can be irritating, never switch them off as they contain essential patches. It can also be a good idea to visit the HOSTS file and replace it with the default, as some malware can modify this file.It is also possible to compare the different types of antivirus software programs online. Many types of antivirus excel in one category and perform poorly in others so it can be a trade-off in many instances. However, there are certainly better and more recognized types of antivirus protection programs. Avast antivirus utilizes little system resources and is very low maintenance, however, it is better at prevention than removal for certain viruses. Norton Antivirus is another well-known antivirus, though it uses more system resources. It can depend on what you are doing, some can affect certain operations such as downloading, while others can affect other operations such as uploading and running executables.A popular combination is to use an antivirus program such as Avast and complement it with MalwareBytes, which is useful for detecting malware. A malware protection tool along with an antivirus program is frequently recommended by security specialists. Windows Defender is another good tool available on Windows 10, but it needs to be complemented with a malware detection tool for complete protection. It should be noted that prevention is always the best defense, and basic online security habits should be adhered to at all times.

[eight-twenty]

Spend a summer in 2003 with me.

AKA a once chronically offline summer where I attempted to be ambidextrous.

Afternoon TV shows are a bore; basically, everything on Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon is repeated junior episodes from this morning, but my sister seems to still enjoy watching them, so I left her alone in the living room with Mama sleeping on the sofa. 

There isn’t a lot to look forward to in the afternoons except maybe I get to ride the scooter outside—specifically outside the church near home because the asphalt is so much smoother there. That is if my sister and I would successfully routinely water the plants and sweep the falling leaves outside the house. It's a price to pay for a few hours of freedom. I like doing it though—it’s a preferable chore to washing the dishes.

My childhood friends that I used to play with in the afternoons all moved to different homes now—the two singing sisters moved to Mandaue (maybe I’ll get to visit them since my papa works there too); one is moving with her mother to Australia; a place that may be too far to visit because I’ve seen that on the “It’s a Big Big World Atlas” and that’s on a different page from where the Philippines is so that’s waaay farther than Mandaue I guess. 

There are still 3 hours to go ’til it’s safe to go outside—by safe meaning the sun isn’t scorching hot anymore. Other safety indicators include banana cue and barbecue street vendors starting to set up their stalls, and the neighbour’s car across street is gone because he’s off to play tennis (I know because he told us so and has kindly offered us his equipment should we need to borrow), kids shouting other kids’ names outside houses to signal that it’s time to go out, house helpers starting to also water the plants and sweep the falling leaves outside and they all seem to do it together with fellow helpers. The streets are alive on the hours the sun hides behind the clouds, for now, it’s scorching and there's a lull.

So, I’m here in our bedroom where it’s too hot to take a nap and the bed is too cluttered with a bunch of notepads, planners, and notebooks from Mama and Papa’s bank appointments. Stacks of them, actually, because my aunties end up giving those to me too. Now I have blank pages to fill and to write notes in, like I’m an historian-archaeologist in training.

I have been fascinated by mythology and the planets lately—owing to the tale of Daedalus and Icarus in volume 1 of Childcraft. Then I discovered how planets are named after Roman gods and goddesses and that there is a Greek equivalent to each diety with a cooler name. 

I did not know books solely dedicated to mythology (Greek, Roman and Egyptian) existed—not in our household yet at least. And so I made it my mission to make my little book (or more like a glossary) of anything myth-related. Outlining names and their meanings and what they represent with words written from my non-dominant hand. As if my penmanship isn’t unreadable as it already is.

How come ‘earth’ isn’t named after a Roman God? Why doesn’t Athena (Minerva) have her planet. Apollo too. Why isn’t there a lot on Egyptian mythology?

These are questions whose answers I couldn’t find in my stacks of encyclopedias. I would have consulted Encarta but apparently, our shared computer is off-limits since it’s unusable because of a virus (I believe it was called a Trojan virus after the Trojan horse!).

I hope god isn’t angry with me—or my parents most of all—for trying to acquaint myself with other deities. The broken computer may have been a sign.

That has been what’s been keeping me occupied for most of the afternoons for most of the break ’til the day we get school supplies; the day I most look forward to in the summer.

[iamnotaminimalist]

Entry 60

Pared down the plush toys. Found a rabies plushy (that is to say, a plush shaped like the virus) in there. I do not remember when I got the rabies plushy. But it's cute.

Tomorrow I will put up an ad for the baby bathtub in the local buy nothing group. It's an alright tub, but our bathroom is simply too small to accommodate it. We bought it after too much pressure from relatives even though we knew it would be of little use to us.

I tossed a couple of poor quality notepads into the paper recycling bin after years of telling myself I'll use them.

The baby's play mat turned out to be of little interest to the baby. It's a hit with the cats though, so it stays.

Peace and Love.

[minusgangtime]

Oh? That? Back home it was called,the metal virus. In its original state it turned everyone into robotic zombies with a single touch..mom and a few of survivors were barely able to stop it..I was injected with a scientific version of it..I often get mean looks cause people think I’m a disease or a threat..

-silver

Clukr wrote that down on a notepad he got out of nowhere and then put it away.

"Interesting discovery.. But don't listen to those who call you threat, I'm sure you're more than just what you become."