#but i think midnight should have had a more clearer like 'i forgive you' moment between the sisters

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

god i love ghost quartet but it really is kind of a downer once you know what's going on sdlkfjdsklj like pearl and rose never come to this kind of "meeting" moment where they both know what's going on and can "talk it out". they don't close the cycle of violence it just loops back again in wind / rain. and (depending on ur interpretation of whether the story loops again or not) the only ~happily ever after / transcendent moment is between rose and the man/the astronomer. which idk it never sits right with me.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

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“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

*

***3 months later***

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A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

[maraudersandlily20]

Remus leaned over the table, his eyes studying the map intensely. He looked up and met James’ anxious gaze. “And you’re sure this is the place?” 

The other boy nodded. “We’ve had spies keeping tabs on two locations. One, here,” his finger drifted over a marked up piece on the map. “This is where all the big wigs go, meetings are held, plans are made. But this one,” he moved his touch to the other marked spot, the one Remus had been studying. “This place is more like a prison or a holding space.”

“They bring people there, but a lot of them don’t come out,” Fabian said calmly, his arms folded tight across his chest. “They wouldn’t bring Sirius to a place where people would recognize him. He’s a pureblood. It’s defeats the whole purpose.”

“Voldemort may be vicious, but he’s also a master at manipulation. And if you don’t have willing minds, you have no one to manipulate. He needs funding, support, just like anyone does in a war.” Gideon added on from his position against the wall.

“So, it would make sense they would keep him here then.” Remus agreed, pondering for a moment. “It’s been over a week, Prongs. Do you think he’s still-”

“He’s in there,” James interrupted suddenly, not allowing Remus to finish his sentence. “He has to be.”

“Besides, Rem, it’ll give us an opportunity to get as many people out as we can,” Frank said, always the voice of reason. “Even if they have moved Sirius, which we think is highly doubtful, the blow we could deal them is too good to pass us.”

Remus nodded, feeling the worry settle into his stomach. “So, we leave at midnight?” They all agreed.

“Wouldn’t be a real Order mission without a little theatrics,” Gideon said with a smile.

Remus looked over at James and the two shared a moment of quiet determination. They had let Sirius slip away from them once and this was the only opportunity they had to get him back. They couldn’t fail. They would never forgive themselves if they failed.

The boys all tried to sleep, but weren’t too successful. Finally, the clock on the wall showed 11:45, which caused all of them to rise together, prepping themselves for what would probably be a battle. Remus slid into his boots, tying the knots firmly and patted his wand in his pocket. When everyone was ready, they gathered together in a circle. 

“Remember,” Frank said, “This isn’t a battle, it’s a stealth mission. We want to get in and out as quickly and as quietly as possible with as many people as we can find. We have thirty minutes. So set your watches.” He looked over at Remus. “And if we don’t find Sirius in that time, we still have to leave. Do you understand?”

Remus had to nod, though he knew that would be the real struggle. If he didn’t find Sirius in the allotted time, could he really leave if there was a chance Sirius was there.

They all breathed together, trying to calm their nerves, before placing their hands on the shoulder of the person beside them. Frank raised his wand, closed his eyes, and the five of them were suddenly standing in a small building. It was the outpost the order had been using to keep tabs on the location. It was empty despite a few blankets and the remnants of some dinner. With careful steps, they left the building and made their way through the tall grass to the entrance of what had once been an old mine. When they reached the door, Frank whispered a spell and it swung open. He turned back to the team.

“Gideon, you’re on distraction. Fabian, James and I are on cell openings. Getting as many people out as we can. And Remus,” he met his gaze, his determination set there. “Bring our boy home.”

Remus nodded and watched as his friends took off in different directions, their footsteps barely making a sound against the old concrete floor. He bit his lip and sent out a call through his mind.

“Sirius,” he thought, his heart pounding. “Sirius, I’m coming.”

And then Remus did something he often swore he would never do. He allowed the tug inside of him, the dormant wolf that was always there, to come to surface. When he opened his eyes, he could smell scents much more clearer than before. There were familiar ones, like the Prewetts, Frank, and of course James that were mingled with the foreign scents of the new place.. But there was one familiar scent that caught Remus’ attention quickly, because the wolf recognized it so thoroughly. The scent of a canine mixed with the scent of a lover. 

Sirius. 

Remus set off jogging in the direction that the smell grew stronger, wand raised and ready for any attack he might face. He kept his steps quiet and carefully went around a series of corners. He heard voices talking with each other and he skidded to a halt, pushing himself against the wall, hoping to avoid being seen. He watched as two men on patrol walked through a nearby hallway, discussing some poor soul or another. And then they were gone and Remus was off once again.

He started passing numerous doors, cells, he assumed. Many were empty, smelling only of stone and sulfur. There were a few, however, that held prisoners. Remus knew, someone inside of him, that he was supposed to care, that he was supposed to want to free them. But all he could think of was Sirius.

The scent of him grew stronger with each step. Remus paused and walked with slow steps, listening for any noise that could be heard at either end of the hall. It was incredibly silent, as if the deatheaters were so confident in their abilities to keep captives that they hadn’t even considered putting too many guards with their prisoners. Their mistake. 

Remus felt his heart beating wildly through his chest as the smell of Sirius hit him hard, coming directly from behind one metal door. It had to be him. It had to be Sirius.

With a deep breath, he lifted his wand and checked around him, making sure he was alone, before whispering “Alohomora” and hearing the lock click behind it. His fingers were trembling as he reached up and pushed the door opened, cringing as it let out a squeak. 

When the door had fully opened, the sight it revealed made Remus was to vomit. Sirius was, in fact, in the room. He was in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but his undergarments and his arms were held up to the side of his body, confined there with chains. His body was littered with bruises and cut marks, making his skin look like it was multi-colored. Someone had done a real number on him, and he barely looked up at the sound of someone coming in.

“Couldn’t leave me be for too long, huh?” His voice called, raspy and coated in pain. “I thought we discussed that in order to make the pain worse, you had to give me time between each interrogation. That way it’s more potent.”

And Remus realized then that Sirius, even after a week held captive by some of the cruelest wizards in the world, simply would not break. No one would ever be able to kill the spirit and courage that exuded from him. He would always be the strongest person in the room.

“I’d heard that before, but honestly, I came here to understand why you missed dinner?”

Sirius’ head flew up in surprise at the sound of the familiar voice. He took in Remus, beautiful Remus wearing an old pair of jeans and a black sweater, his hair messy and his face tired. But it was Remus. Remus was there. 

Remus stepped forward then, falling to his knees in front of his boyfriend. He placed a gentle hand on each side of his face and pressed his forehead against the other boy’s. “You can’t just keep missing dinner like this, Pads. It’s really not okay.”

A sob came from the figure Remus held. “I’m so sorry, Rem. I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again.”

Remus smiled sadly before standing and walking to the wall where one of the chains that held Sirius was anchored. He took a deep breath before whispering “incendio” and watching as the metal began to melt before clanging down the floor. He ran to the other side and did the same. Sirius let out a yelp of relief and he was able to lower his arms for the first time in days. Remus went to him and wrapped him in his arms and hauling him to his feet. He let him hold his boyfriend for a moment, breathing him in, allowing himself to feel the reassurance that Sirius was there, alive, and breathing. 

“We should probably go,” Sirius whispered. Remus nodded and pulled back, looking down at the cuffs against Sirius’ skin. They had rubbed the skin beneath them raw, leaving deep gashes that were slowly being scabbed over. With a deep breath, he took one cuff in his hand and pulled it in two different directions, allowing strength to flow through him. The metal squealed for a moment until the metal broke apart and fell to the floor. Remus copied the movement on the other side, and then Sirius was free. 

He could barely stand and for the first time in a week, he allowed the tears to come. Remus held him tightly against him and kissed his head softly. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” He asked softly. Sirius nodded, hiccuping through the tears, and grasped onto Remus’ sweater tightly until his knuckles turned white. Remus, feeling like one part of himself had been returned, imagined the Prewett’s front door, the meeting place, and then took out his wand and apparated them out of there. 

When the guards would come to the interrogation room after the announcement of over 15 prisoners being freed, they would find two chains melted off the wall and broken to pieces.

And Sirius Black was gone. 

[roughrudesea]

top 5 Shakespeare monologues?

I DESERVE THIS 😤

1. Richard II 3.2

No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, Let’s choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so, for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke’s, And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings; How some have been deposed; some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d; All murder’d: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence: throw away respect, Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while: I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a king?

WHAT CAN I SAY. I heard a friend do this monologue in an acting class almost a decade ago and even with zero context, I thought about it for years. Finally reading the play only made me love it more. 

2. The Tempest 5.1

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book.

A solemn air and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains, Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand, For you are spell-stopp'd. Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace, And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo, My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him you follow'st! I will pay thy graces Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. Thou art pinch'd fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian, Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding Begins to swell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell: I will discase me, and myself present As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit; Thou shalt ere long be free.

I’m honestly shocking myself slightly by not listing “We are such stuff,” but even thinking about this part of the play gives me chills. I love the journey Prospero goes on in this: watching him give up his magic and decide to forgive his former enemies is so engaging--and the language is completely unmatched.

3. The Tempest 4.1

You do look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, To still my beating mind.

Okay I lied -- had to include “We are such stuff.” How could I not? I’m a Tempest and a Prospero stan. How could I NOT list this one when it is like *THE* iconic monologue?

4. Hamlet, 3.3

O, my offense is rank it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, A brother's murder. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will: My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offense? And what's in prayer but this two-fold force, To be forestalled ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up; My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'? That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. May one be pardon'd and retain the offense? In the corrupted currents of this world Offense's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe! All may be well.

3.3 is my favorite scene in Hamlet. I LOVE the tableau of Claudius praying, and Hamlet right behind him, ready to strike. Hamlet the character obviously has some incredible speeches, but this Claudius monologue is the one that always stands out to me: it is such a juicy glimpse into his inner psyche that is more carefully guarded for the rest of the play, and I love this moment (however brief) of unraveling.

5. Macbeth 5.5

She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

Forgive me for being so basic but I would really be lying to myself if I didn’t list this. Although this one, more than others, really depends on the actor. I have seen some renditions of this monologue I really do not jive with, but when it’s done well, it is top tier. 

[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

My Friend Got Turned Into A Werewolf

Part 3 Waking Up

Tagging: @melyaliz @dilpickledd @coffee-randomness @speedypan

A/N Red belongs to @melyaliz

Red groaned when he woke up staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He didn't recognize this room in the mansion, and he was pretty sure he had explored the whole place by now. No, this place seemed too new, too modern. Looking around he realized another thing, at first he thought a television was on but as he focused more the thoughts were getting clearer. Images of him laying on the couch, a list of items, a schedule, a full moon shining over a small cabin deep in the woods. Shaking his head he looked around and noticed Aquata curled up in a chair that made Red wonder how it was even comfortable.

Red moved to get up only to lose his balance and crash into the coffee table. The noise startled Aquata awake that when Red looked up at her he noticed the ice dagger in her hands as she looked around for danger. Their eyes locked on one another and Red saw the blurry image of himself in the mess of the table. Aquata shook her head and the image disappeared along with the dagger.

“You're up.” Was all she said as she held her hand out for him to take.

“Yeah.” Red groaned as he got up rubbing his head. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could be the one to tell me.” Aquata said letting go of his hand and looked down to see her broken coffee table. “After all you were the one who showed up at my place covered in werewolf bites,”

Red sighed as he remembered what had happened that night.

"I was in the neighborhood and figured I'd stop by and say hi." Red said, rubbing his head.

"You thought to say hi close to midnight?" Aquata asked.

"Yeah, realized it wasn't the best idea and I was going to head back when the attack happened." Red explained.

"Did you happen to get a good look at the wolf who attacked you?"

"Not really, the alley was dark." Red winced at how pathetic that sounded. But in a way it was true.

Aquata sighed as she settled back into her chair and stared at her table.

"You owe me a new table… and a robe… let's go ahead and throw in a couch too." She said and Red winced.

"Sorry, it's just… you were the only person I could think of that could help me. You're pretty good at this stuff you know."

"I know. And I was kidding by the way." Aquata rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Um I have to call Tyler."

"Tyler? Why?" Red asked a little too harshly. Okay where did that come from?

"He's the leader to his pack and the closet one to Gotham. Technically Gotham is his territory, and if there's attacks happening he needs to be the one to settle it. It's bad enough that a wolf attacked inside the city, it's worse considering you're a metahuman." Aquata explained standing up and pulling out her phone from her pajama shorts.

"How is it worse that I'm a metahuman?" Red asked, still a little bit confused.

"Werewolves are strong to begin with however when metahumans appeared they began to realize that the powers of a metahuman would strengthen as well. A hidden war happened in which many lives were lost, after that it became illegal for werewolves to transform any metahuman. Therefore the wolf that did the transformation and the transformee must be killed."

"Wait what?!" Red shouted.

"Don't worry." Aquata sighed. "Something tells me Tyler's going to jump through a lot of hoops to make sure your life is spared."

"Why's that?"

"Cause he feels like he owes it to me." Aquata sighed so low Red wasn't sure if he imagined it or not.

"I'll be back, um just stay." Aquata held out her hand in a manner that you would order a dog to stay put.

Red compiled by immediately sitting down on the sofa and he saw that for a split moment she cracked and smiled quickly. Again a blurry image of him sitting on the sofa hit him but disappeared quickly as she shook her head and turned to leave the room.

It was strange, Red had always joked that Aquata had a hard head and that's why it was always so hard to read her. She had always laughed it off but now, had she been keeping him out on purpose? Or was the whole wolf thing really making his powers stronger? He shook his head nah he was looking too hard into this.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath rubbing his head. He always had a hard time with his powers; this was going to be even more difficult. On top of that he had newer senses to adapt to too. He was pretty sure that the coffee table breaking was because he wasn't sure of his strength yet. He was about to lean down to start picking up the mess when he heard Aquatas' voice.

"Hey Tyler."

"Hey, is everything okay?" Came Tyler's voice and Red was surprised he could hear it so clearly.

"Yeah, Red just woke up finally. Broke my coffee table actually trying to get up. Poor guy doesn't know his own strength yet." Aquata chuckled and faintly the scene of Red on the floor appeared again.

"He'll need time to adjust. The cabin is almost ready for him. I'll send someone one to fetch him as soon as possible."

"I'll let him know." When there was no response Aquata continued. "Is there something else?"

"...I think you should come with him." Tyler said slowly.

"What why?" Aquata questioned.

"I don't like the idea of you staying in Gotham when there's a rogue loose. I know I know-" Tyler cut her off before she could protest. "I know you're capable of handling yourself, but Aquata… I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if you got hurt when there was something I could have done to prevent it."

Red saw the image of Tyler, his lips were moving as if he were talking, his hands held out as if grabbing him by the shoulders. Then Red felt the familiar pang of heartache and the image disappeared.

"And how does Cason think about this?"

"He's the one who thought of it. Besides it would be good for Red to have a familiar face with him." Tyler urged.

A quick rundown of all their friends flashed before his eyes and briefly Red saw Mandy and felt his own heartache.

"I'll think about it." Was all Aquata said before hanging up.

By the time Aquata came back Red had composed himself enough and was working on making a small pile of the broken pieces of the table.

"You don't have to do that." Aquata said as she went to a hidden closet and produced a broom and dust pan.

"I've been pretty useless and crashed out on your sofa for the past few days this is the least I could do." Red said though he moved as Aquata started to sweep and she proceeded to change the topic.

"Tyler is going to send some people over to pick you up. You're gonna have to spend a few months in a cabin they have close to where they live."

"Why's that?"

"The first few months are rough. You'll need to learn how to control your newfound strength and power in a more controlled environment. Not to mention the first few transformations can be tough, we wouldn't want what happened to you happening to someone else. You better start making some phone calls either tell the truth or make an excuse. It's up to you when you want to share what has happened."

"What about you?" Red asked before he could stop himself. Aquata looked at him confused but it quickly dawned on her.

"You were listening weren't you." She sighed.

"Sorry." Was all Red could think to say. Aquata simply stayed silent as she continued to sweep.

He saw flashes of his sister's and few of his friends that Aquata briefly knew.

"Why don't you ask your sisters to go with you?"

"May is currently doing a fashion show that she's been planning for months and Antoinette is off saving another universe." Red explained.

"What about one of your X-buddies?" Aquata pressed.

"I don't think anyone would really understand what I'm going through other than you." And he meant that, there was a reason he chose to come here. He looked up at her hopefully.

"I'll think about it." Was all she said as she continued to work on the mess.

[onewhoturns]

Fireworks (1/4)

What?? Another?? Damn straight, I’ve written one thing a day just about for the past four days which is insane but here we are.

Fandom: Oxenfree Pairing: Alex/Jonas Chapter: 1/4 Characters: Alex, Jonas, (later) Michael, Ren, Nona, Clarissa Word count: 2437 Rating: T for language Summary: The one saving grace of that first kiss (apart from, well, it wasn’t a bad kiss) -- the one thing she could point to as making the kiss sort of okay, morally -- was that it was in a timeline where they were just friends. Well… okay, maybe the kiss might have changed that. A little? Or maybe it didn’t get a chance to, much, cause Alex was too busy shutting herself away and having a teensy tiny crisis over kissing her sometimes-stepbrother. And then, naturally, as always seemed to happen July 8th, it would be May 1st all over again. or: the First, the Fourth, the Fireworks.

-

She should’ve seen it coming. He’d become her other-brother, the one she went to with the things she wasn’t sure she wanted Michael to know. Even if Michael so often ended up finding out anyway (the awkward moment when Michael realized Jonas had been her emergency ride home from a party at Pat’s where she got a little past shitfaced, that was a memorable one). It’s par for the course, in these realities where Michael is with Clarissa, where Ren is with Nona, that Alex gravitates toward “new in town” Jonas. At least, at this point she’s pretty sure that’s how it goes. She doesn’t remember everything, just bits and pieces and vague feelings. She would remember if she’d kissed him - if he’d kissed her - before, right?

There had been moments, sure, that might’ve hinted at it. Halloween night, when Clarissa wore those red contacts, and Alex was shaken to her very core, Jonas had been the one she drove to the coast with. Staring up at the stars, in comfortable silence, feet knocking against one another lazily. Wrapped up in the ratty blankets from the back of his truck, sitting on the rocks and looking out at the ocean. Not that she’s all that big of a fan of the ocean, either, but it was too cold for anyone to try to pressure her into swimming (and Jonas has never been the type to do that, anyway).

Actually, it was weird-- the first time (this time around, anyway) she’d balked at deep water, everyone had seemed surprised. Like this Alex was a friggin’ fish or something. A couple of panic attacks later, they’d learned not to push it. It was wading or the shallow end for her. And Horn Lake was officially a no-go area.

Maybe that’s why she’s been perhaps a little bit clingy with Jonas at the 4th of July barbeque. She couldn’t convince her parents not to have it at the lake, so instead she brought Jonas along and once there dragged him as far from the water as possible, perching on top of the playground equipment, throwing snap poppers at the ground and lighting sparklers and dollar store smoke bombs and trying to forget the fact that Michael is probably at this very moment swimming in the thing that killed him. In the dark. Like an idiot.

It jolts her heart straight into her throat hearing Clarissa’s yelp of, “Mike!” from the beach. The smile wiped from her face, the sparkler drops to the ground and she’s on her feet in an instant, staring worriedly toward the spot their families are camped for the night’s festivities, but unable to see past the silhouettes of a few bodies gathered around the camplight. But then Clarissa bursts into shrieking giggles and Alex finally breathes again.

“Hey,” Jonas’s voice is soft as he wraps a hand around her wrist, giving a gentle tug. “You alright?”

She might be about 50% of the way to crying when she turns back to him. Maybe. Possibly. Or maybe it’s just the wide-eyed panic that has him suddenly concerned, that small crease between his brows just visible in the mix of moonlight and tree-trunk-filtered LED camplight as he reaches for her other hand as well. “Alex, seriously-- are you okay?”

Her pulse had skyrocketed, but with his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms, it’s a lot easier to come back to herself. She hadn’t realized the memory -- a false memory, now, of something that never even happened -- was still so clear, that it could flash so vividly into her head, no matter how briefly. A noise somewhere between ‘mhm’ and ‘ehhhhh’ croaks from her throat between closed lips.

God, his face is so soft. For someone so good at maintaining his cool (ever-vigilant, after his juvie stint, of keeping his temper in check), Jonas’s expression is pretty transparent. None of the usual wariness she gets from others about her baseless fear of the lake, or her occasional moments of sheer panic. His smile, small and slow and warm, is genuine. Caring. A corner of his lips lifts wryly. “Don’t go all Edwards Island on me, now.”

It’s so easy to step forward, to stand in front of his perch on the stupid plastic wall of the kiddie playground, to step between his knees and rest her forehead on his chest and just breathe. He’s grounding. Dependable. A few breaths of his shirt - his deodorant a scent she’s pretty sure she can pick out of a lineup - has her head a lot clearer.

“...Alex...” His voice is almost hoarse, and he clears his throat.

“I’m okay,” she mutters, and sighs before straightening, pulling her hands from his to rest on his knees, avoiding his eyes. “Just… you know. That thing,” she tilts her head toward the sounds of splashing and laughing and people checking their watches in expectation of imminent fireworks. She’s told him about Michael. Well, in a way. She didn’t go into the whole parallel timelines thing, but he knows she had some kind of experience, or maybe a dream, that made Michael + swimming + lake = terror. He puts a hell of a lot more stock in it than Michael, too.

“Right. Yeah.” He swings his legs a bit, thudding his heels against the hollow rails with a thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk. “...Wanna get out of here?”

Alex shakes her head, staring at the ring that still hangs around Jonas’s neck. “Nah, I’m-- I’ll be fine. Besides, the fireworks are gonna be starting s--” The word isn’t even all the way out of her mouth before she sees as well as feels his shift of attention, looking up to the sky, and a moment later there’s the boom and crackle of the first rocket. She half turns, watching the scattering of sparks floating a bit sideways in the slight breeze. The camplight went out from where the rest of their group had stopped to watch. And then up goes another, another thud and a noise like hard rain on a plastic roof.

She turns to watch the sky, midnight blue, speckles of stars lost in afterimages of the fireworks. A triple explosion - the loudest ones they’ve got, all in a row - brings a smile to her lips. “Nice.”

“Yeah. It’s, um… beautiful.”

Alex scoffs, shooting a glance back at Jonas with a small smirk. “They’re like ten bucks a pop, Jonas, this isn’t some masterful pyrotechnics, just the annual July Fourth ‘extravaganza’ according to a few suburban PTA moms.”

“Heh... Yeah, well. Last year it was me and my dad watching Die Hard on the couch and listening to it all going down outside, so…”

“But Die Hard’s a Christmas movie.” She ignores the teeny touch of guilt that she didn’t invite him last year, after all the Island drama. Then, all she’d wanted was to be around her flesh-and-blood, no-longer-dead brother. This year, though, with all the graduation festivities over and done with, with Clarissa and Michael both home for the summer and both families chattering at each other constantly any time they’re in close proximity, Alex was way too eager to have a friend to hang with.

“Oh, we watch it then, too. Sandwiched between Trading Places and Gremlins.”

She narrows her eyes for a second, unsure if he’s serious, before elbowing him in the stomach, rolling her eyes. He hooks an arm around her to keep from taking a ten foot fall to the ground, pulling her back against him as she snorts, “Seriously, you guys have the weirdest traditions.”

“Hey, I take personal offense at that.” He flicks her in the arm, and when she bats his hand away, and he teeters once more, he wrestles her arms to her sides. “Alex I swear, if you push me off this thing and my legs stop working I will never forgive you.”

She’s smirking, but let’s him hold on. “Optimistic. I think I’d aim for paralysis from the neck down.”

“Well you’re the overachiever.”

Another burst of one, three, one, four explosions, and they’ve fallen into companionable silence. In a brief pause between pops, Alex muses, “You know, I heard three years ago one of the firework engineers almost lost an eye.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t get much more than that from him, and then there’s another pop-crackle-pop-pop-BOOM and his hold tightens a little.

“Scared?” she teases, as the sky clears again, in anticipation of the finale. She’s pretty sure that’s his heart she feels thudding against her shoulder. “You never told me your family has a history of losing eyes to pyrotechnical accidents.” Seriously, is he having a heart attack?

“Alex…” His voice is quiet, maybe hesitant, close to her ear.

She huffs out a small laugh, “Relax, I’m just-” But when she turns to reassure him their lips meet and-- Jesus Christ, they’re kissing, when did they start kissing? Her eyes close for a fraction of a second before the fireworks crackle through the air and she blinks back into her senses and pulls away. “What the hell--?”

“Shit, I’m-- Sorry, I--” He lets go of her immediately, and she can feel the heat off his skin even if she can’t see his blush as she stumbles a step away. “I didn’t-- That’s-- Fuck, my bad.”

She thinks maybe she should be leaving, walking back to her family, glaring at Jonas for kissing her so suddenly, but instead stands, dumbly, a foot out of his reach. She’s just… baffled. Confused? Perplexed.

Jonas’s head falls into his hands as he groans. “God, that was--” He’s mumbling into his palms, “Can we just pretend that didn’t happen?”

Alex stares for a second. Because, she’s just… there’s a lot happening in her head right now. Specifically, after mentions of Christmas, she’s remembering that awkward moment at Ren’s Christmas party, running into Jonas in a doorway, catching him spotting mistletoe and very quickly stepping out of her way, face flushed from what she’d initially assumed was the spiked punch. And maybe there had been glances across the front seat on those midnight drives, the way he looked at her when she stuck her head out the window and howled at the sky, that grin he gave her, and the look in his eyes. Tracing the lines of her palm hanging over the side of the couch as Ren and Nona battled it out button-smashing, as everyone threw taunts and jeers at game night. That time she’d had a nightmare and called him at 4am and he answered (with only minor complaint).

...Okay. Maybe she’d… um… maybe…

A hand is rubbing at his neck awkwardly, head hanging low, feet tapping a quick nervous rhythm close to the bars, super audible in the silence now that the fireworks are over and done.

Alex has never been particularly good with romance. She has, in fact, been notoriously obtuse when it comes to people liking her. Case in point, apparently. But she does like Jonas. And it’s definitely not the same way she likes Ren, or Nona, or even Michael. She loves him, really, just never considered it a physical thing, never thought that maybe it could be something… else. He’s her best friend. Closer than Ren in a shorter amount of time. She’s just… surprised, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something settling in the pit of her stomach. Something not nearly as unpleasant as she might have expected.

She probably looks more angry that she feels, brow furrowed as she steps toward him. But she’s not angry. Just… trying to figure out what exactly she’s about to do. And really trying to ignore that nagging feeling in her head that this is one in an infinite number of timelines where too often this is not okay.

A tentative step forward and she’s between his knees once more, fingers resting on denim. He drops his hands and glances up; ashamed, hopeful, mortified. “Honestly, Alex, that was way out of line, I shouldn’t have-” His voice stutters to a halt as she brings her face closer to his. Her gaze shifts from his eyes to his mouth-- she’s just to his right, glancing away for a second, and she spots his hands gripped tight to his perch, and she turns back, and her eyelashes brush his cheek as she noses into his space, and then--

Their lips are touching. Again.

It’s… nice, actually. Better when he breathes her in and seems to melt against her and his hands wrap around her waist like he’s scared she’ll pull away again. Her heart is in her throat for a completely different reason now, because this is the closeness she likes with him-- only better, closer, but not in a way that makes her feel awkward or uncomfortable or… It’s just… really nice. Kissing him.

When she breaks the kiss, she doesn’t pull back, only moves to rest her cheek on his shoulder. There’s a pause, a moment when she realizes her heart is beating as hard as his was earlier, and she lets out a short huff of breath.

“Um…”

But whatever he’s going to say, it’s interrupted with a call from the beach. The camplight is on again. “Alex? Alex honey, we’re just about packed. It’s getting late.”

She’s not sure when her palms went to Jonas’s chest, but they leave it now, stepping away once more, only for him to catch one hand.

“Want to go for a drive?” It’s hopeful, maybe a little anxious, even though the request is one he’s made - hell, she’s made - time and time again. “Or-- or I can just give you a ride home, or…”

She shifts from one foot to the other, avoiding his expectant gaze. Instead her free hand traces the chain, hooks briefly into the ring around his neck. Shit-- She lets go, steps away again, pulling out of his grasp. And he lets her go, of course he does, and she wonders if she’d spot his expectations falling if she were brave enough to look. “I’m… look, I’ll…” The breath feels forced from her lungs in a puff of air. “Not tonight.”

And she feels like an idiot for it -- feels guilty and stupid because that’s just mean, leaving him like that -- but she leaves the remnants of sparklers and smoke bombs and poppers scattered on the ground (in a poor display of responsibility) and walks back to the picnic site not quite too fast, but with a kind of determination that only comes from pointedly avoiding thinking about potentially really fucking up a relationship thanks to an awkward kiss in the dark.

[hysmpod]

Transcript: Have You Seen Me? Episode One: Kitty Scott is Missing

Hey listeners! Sorry this took us a while. We at HYSM? are dedicated to accessibility in the audio drama community and will always make transcripts free to everyone. If you are interested in viewing annotated scripts, though, they are soon to be available to patrons! For as little as $1 per episode, you can get early access to episodes as well as these annotated scripts and other goodies. Click here to learn more.

Without further ado, here is the transcript for Episode One: Kitty Scott is Missing.

SFX: A cassette tape click. OPHELIA takes a deep breath, a second. When she speaks it is with a slight tremble.

OPHELIA

This is going to be difficult to say. When I first started using this recorder, I never thought I would be doing anything serious with it. Not like this, I mean. I always thought our investigations were serious and important, like it mattered that we were proving something’s existence. I mean, ghosts are real, but of course we knew that way before we put it on cassette. We agree that if Bigfoot does exist, and we aren’t saying that they do, they should just be left alone. Three-eyed deer who will draw you into the woods to great fortune or great peril… again, some of us remain unconvinced, but I myself am a believer. 

I… The date is April 19th. My best friend, Kitty Scott, has been missing for almost 48 hours. And I have no idea where she is.

To say it’s unlike her would be a gross understatement, but I guess that’s what a lot of people say, right? When people go missing? “It seems so unlike them. I can’t imagine why. You think you know somebody.”

The thing is that I do know Kitty. I know her better than I know anybody in the world, even Isaac, even myself. Her brother James--who can go straight to you-know-where at his earliest possible convenience--he says that she skipped town. And that’s what everybody thinks, but it isn’t true. I’m sure of it. Kitty wanted to leave, but she wouldn’t. She’s still here. Somewhere.

So, who’s on my side? Isaac, for sure. He’s known Kitty for her whole life--well, everyone here has--but she’s basically lived here for the last two years. He not her best friend, but he is her best friend’s uncle and legal guardian, so close enough.

Sheriff Hayle will back me up, I bet. She’s something of a mystery herself, sure, but when it comes down to it she is smart as anything and hates James just about as much as I do. Not great for mayoral-police relations, but I don’t think anybody really cares that much. If I tell her what I know, she’ll believe me. Oh, maybe she’ll even let me work the case with her! Oh my god, Kitty will think it’s hilarious. “Detective Ophelia Joy, Amsterdam PD! Pew pew pew pew pew!” Yeah, I like it.

And then there’s the new kid. He’s already offered to help, which is great news. It’s kind of hard to get a read on him, but he seems honest enough. Pretty sharp. Nice and all.

Maybe I’m not giving him enough credit. We never get new folks in town, so I don’t really have a lot of room for comparison. Everyone I know is someone I’ve known for years. And someone who’s known Kitty for years, which will either be very good or very, very bad. She has a very unique… and… strong personality. That I love, obviously.

But I guess that’s the team. Isaac, Sheriff Hayle, the new kid, and me. Now I guess we do what detectives do; we look over what we know. We investigate what we don’t. We solve the case!

Let’s break it down.

SFX: A click as the tape ends. 

After a moment:

KITTY

Bug, I love you, but that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.

OPHELIA

Just think about it--

KITTY

Ghosts? Why not. Werewolves? Okay, fine. I’ll even take a stab at fairies if they aren’t the Tinkerbell kind. But what you’re spouting is bullshit, babe.

OPHELIA

What is so hard to believe about a three-eyed deer?

KITTY

(Dramatically) The three-eyed deer, eerie in its grace, its centerfold eye radiating gold. Beware its gaze, or it may steal thine soul! “Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell / That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.”

OPHELIA

...Well when you quote Macbeth you make it sound stupid. 

KITTY

Shakespeare was right about a good many things.

OPHELIA

But this is real. I’ve been doing research at the library archives, and--

KITTY

You’ve been sneaking into the library archives when Mrs. Fumero isn’t looking.

OPHELIA

I’ve been sneaking into the library archives when Mrs. Fumero isn’t looking. And there have been multiple accounts of these deer. Not like, on the front page, but still. A lot of people say they felt compelled to follow them into the woods, where great danger surely awaited… or greatest fortune.

KITTY

You see? How does that not sound fake?

OPHELIA

Truth is stranger than fiction, dear.

KITTY

(Tsks) Listen to us, sounding like an old married couple. And you know what wives do for their wives? They tell them how the Scottish play ends.

OPHELIA

They tell them how the Scottish play ends?

KITTY

Oh, would you? You’re a doll.

OPHELIA

You can memorize it--not even one of the best lines--but you can’t bother reading all of it?

KITTY

Please don’t question my genius, Bug. And I know you didn’t read it either. You just watched some high school performance on YouTube!

OPHELIA

It was meant to be seen and not read anyway.

(She sighs)

Pretty much everyone dies because MacB isn’t fit to be king. Um, Lady MacB gets obsessive about washing her hands clean of blood and then dies. The witches give ole Mickey a prophecy that no man born of a woman can kill him, so Macduff kills him because his mother had a C-Section, so he wasn’t technically born, so he can kill Macbeth.

KITTY

Wow. That shit’s depressing.

OPHELIA

What do you think “the Tragedy of Macbeth” means? It’s on the front cover!

KITTY

Bold of you to assume I read what I don’t have to. As exciting and invigorating as this is, I better get going. It's, like, ugh, midnight, and that essay’s due first period. It’s not going to write itself! I would know, I’ve bet on that happening before.

That ending’s kind of stupid, anyway. Lady MacB could have killed him. She’s not a man of woman born, right? A little stab there, a little “I am no man!” Lord of the Rings, baby!

OPHELIA

Eowyn could take me out, honestly.

KITTY

Like a date, or with her sword?

OPHELIA

I’m impartial.

KITTY

I feel it. Hey, we’re gonna meet at the Igloo after school, right? You promised a birthday sundae, and if you fail to complete your end of the bargain, well… (Her voice drops) You may meet an unfortunate accident.

OPHELIA

(Laughs) I won’t let you down, boss. 

SFX: Kitty leaves and walks down the stairs

Hey, what do I get out of this?

KITTY

(Distantly)You get to hang out with me! Love you, Bug!

SFX: The door slams behind her.

OPHELIA

Love you too.

SFX: A cassette tape clicks.

OPHELIA

I hate the phrase “the last time I saw her.” Let’s call it the most recent time instead. It seems more confident. It was the night before her birthday, the 17th. Well, April 17th, and she turned 18 on the 18th. Oh, this could get confusing. Okay, so let’s call April 18th the day of the incident, which is also her birthday. But, come to think of it, we don’t know whether whatever happened… happened on the day of the incident, the 18th. It could have happened very late on the 17th, when I saw her most recently.

Oh my god, this would be way clearer written down. Curse my dyslexia! Pens are way too slow, and the computer is even slower. Tape, you are the only constant in life. I owe it all to you, buddy.

In any case, we don’t know when the uh… the incident, uh, incited. I used to ask her to text me when she got home, but she always forgot, so I kind of gave up. I haven’t talked to James or Lizzie yet. Which is to say that they’ve tried their best not to talk to me. Sometimes I forget that Lizzie used to be my babysitter. She used to be so cool before she married that d-bag.

It’s like once they got married they started sharing all of his baggage. I’m an only child, so maybe I just don’t get it, but aren’t you supposed to love your siblings? Maybe that’s a lie fed to me by years of TV, but I thought the worst it was supposed to be was a few pranks, maybe a scuffle. I’ve never seen people with as bad of a relationship as Kitty and James. I don’t think he’s ever given a crap about her, and she knows it. It’s a wonder the whole town doesn’t know it, but he’s the golden child. He could probably kill someone and they’d forgive him for it.

(Pauses) He wouldn’t, would he?

Okay, maybe I need to get a little perspective before I accuse the mayor of murder. He probably didn’t do it, but I wouldn’t put it past him, morally speaking. Can you hire a hitman in Ohio? I don’t think so, but it might be worth looking in to.

(She clears her throat)

Back on the case. At first I didn’t realize that anything was wrong. We don’t have any classes together before lunch, but I didn’t see her at our usual table. I asked around, but Cassidy B said that she didn’t see her in geometry or English. I texted her during lunch, but she didn’t respond in time for the next class.

Now, when your friend doesn’t show up to school one day, typically your first thought is that she’s sick. Maybe she’s throw up, or she has a fever. Say it’s her birthday, which it was; Maybe she’s skipped class to play video games all day. It wouldn’t be out of character.

I, on the other hand, had the initial thought that she had been kidnapped. After she left that night, I admit that I watched a few… or a lot of true crime videos online. I can’t stop thinking about the case about this girl from the early 2000’s. She was a child genius, she played a ton of instruments, that kind of thing. Then one night, a man that once did construction on her family’s house broke in through her window and kidnapped her. It took them months to find her, and among the other unspeakable things that happened to her, she had been hidden in plain sight. Her kidnapper would dress her up in a disguise--you know: glasses, a wig, a veil--and called her his wife, and hardly anyone was the wiser.

The whole thing is pretty scary. No, it’s more than that. The idea that it could happen to you, or to anyone, even, it keeps you up at night. The idea that there’s just something right in front of you, and you just can’t see it. 

Better keep my eyes open, I guess.

SFX: A click as the tape ends.

SFX: A voice mailbox tone.

SFX: Bird chirping.

KITTY

This is Kitty. Leave a message, or don’t. The choice is yours. Use it wisely.

SFX: A voice mailbox tone.

KITTY

This is Kitty. Leave a message--

SFX: A voice mailbox tone.

KITTY

This is Kitty--

SFX: Bells jingle as Ophelia walks into the Igloo. Birdsong fades.

EMPLOYEE

(Bored to death) Sorry man, cash only.

LIAM

Wait, for real?

EMPLOYEE

That’s what it says on the sign. We don’t even have a card reader.

LIAM

(Stumbling over his words) Okay. Then you can just--keep it, I guess.

OPHELIA

Hey, wait! I can cover it for you.

LIAM

Really?

OPHELIA

Yeah. It’s, what, a tornado with M&M’s? Those things are like, two dollars. It’s not a big deal.

LIAM

I can pay you back, I promise.

OPHELIA

Deal. And can I get two sundaes, the works?

EMPLOYEE

Sure thing, ‘Felia.

LIAM

Felia?

OPHELIA

Oh, it’s a nickname. The whole thing is Ophelia Florence Joy, which is exactly why I go by Fee.

LIAM

Yeah, that checks out. I’m Liam. Summers. Liam Ferdinand, if you want the whole thing.

OPHELIA

I must say, that’s a pretty good one.

LIAM

Thanks, I picked it out myself and everything.

OPHELIA

You’re not from around here, are you? Not to be weird, but I would remember seeing you. We don’t get a ton of fresh faces outside of summer fair season.

LIAM

I was hoping it wouldn’t be so obvious, but yeah, my parents and I just moved here. Yesterday, actually.

OPHELIA

I didn’t see any moving trucks. Um, where are you...

LIAM

Birch street. On the other side of downtown from here, I think.

EMPLOYEE

(In the background) Two sundaes, plus the tornado, that’s seven.

OPHELIA

Here. That’s a really nice area. You might be neighbors with my best friend. Have you met Kitty yet?

LIAM

You’re actually the first person I’ve really talked to here. We just got to town last night, and we had to switch banks when we moved here, right? So I don’t have an account at the new bank and I spent all my cash on road trip snacks. Hence, the credit card fiasco and my debt to you.

OPHELIA

(Sighs) I was kinda hoping you’d met her. She hasn’t been responding to me all day.

LIAM

Is she sundae number two?

OPHELIA

Yep. You know, this could really work out well for both of us. Want a ride home?

SFX: The recorder clicks on.

OPHELIA

Like I said, the new kid is pretty cool. He’s from New York--the city, not just the state--which automatically makes him the coolest person I know. Kitty would kick me for even daring to imply that it isn’t her, but she’s never even left this town, so that’s that. I mean, aunt Jen is from Jersey, but it’s not quite the same.

You technically aren’t supposed to be on the phone while you’re driving, but I figured I would make an exception while I drove the new kid home to call James’ office to see what was what. His assistant, Janet, definitely knows that he has something out for me. She didn’t even bother giving me some dumb excuse, like “he was in a meeting.” She just put me on hold for the whole ten minute drive to Birch Street. Birch… you know, there’s a scathing rhyming joke I could make, but hey, high road.

As I guessed, Liam now lives right next door to the Scott residence. I say right next door as if there isn’t three acres between every house on that road. It isn’t a very neighborly area, but then again, neither is my house, so I have no room to talk.

Macey answered Kitty’s door. She’s about six or seven now, and she’s already really smart. Kitty loves those kids, Macey and Junior. Which is why, when Lizzie came to the door and told me that Kitty hadn’t come home that night, I got out of there pretty quickly. I think kids understand more than we give them credit for.

SFX: Recorder clicks off. 

SFX: The sounds of light traffic. 

SFX: A door slams, followed by...

SFX: the sound of running as Ophelia approaches the police station.

OPHELIA

Sheriff Hayle! Sheriff Hayle! 

SFX: She trips over gravel.

Sh--I’m fine! I’m fine.

HAYLE

Jesus, kid. Almost made me drop my tea. What’s got you screaming?

OPHELIA

I--She, Kitty, she--

ISAAC

Fee, what’s wrong?

OPHELIA

She--Uncle Isaac, what are you doing here?

ISAAC

I got off early. I’m having tea with a friend. Ophelia, what’s going on?

OPHELIA

Kitty didn’t make it home last night. Sheriff Hayle, she was over at my house until maybe midnight, and then she left, and then I didn’t hear from her, and her sundae melted, so I went to her house and Lizzie said she didn’t come back, and I-- You know, not to jump to conclusions but--

HAYLE

Let’s take a deep breath, okay? You’re not just jumping, you’re headed for the trampoline. You sure she’s not just at a friend’s house?

OPHELIA

Sheriff, you know Kitty and I aren’t the kind of people to have two whole friends. We refer to those as “backup buds.”

HAYLE

Have you talked to James?

OPHELIA

I tried. It went about as well as you wouldd expect.

HAYLE

I’ll probably have better luck. You said you saw her last night? 

OPHELIA

Yeah. Hey, here's an idea; I’ll head along Mulberry, see if I can spot any clues, maybe talk to some neighbors? I bet Angela Bryant saw her drive by, that woman is always up late--

HAYLE

I don’t think so. Isaac’s gonna drive you home, and you’re gonna stay there. You’ve had enough excitement for today, I think. 

OPHELIA

Um, sorry? I’m not going to sit down while Kitty’s god-knows-where! What if she’s hurt, or, or scared?

HAYLE

Young lady, are you doubting my ability to do my job?

OPHELIA

(Quietly) I mean, a little.

HAYLE

Ophelia, I’ve known you for a long time, and I like to think I know you pretty well, you and Kitty both. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re going to try to take this into your own hands. How many times have I caught you hopping my back fence?

OPHELIA

Only, like, three times. Four, tops.

HAYLE

This isn’t the case of the missing garden rake, you hear me? We don’t know quite what this is yet, but if it’s serious business I can’t get a civilian tangled up in it all. Not only for your sake. I need you to think of Kitty. If you start poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, I don’t know what could happen.

OPHELIA

Sounds like a threat.

HAYLE

Jesus, Joy. You know I didn’t mean it like that!

ISAAC

Come on, both of you. Nothing’s getting done just standing here. 

OPHELIA

Fine. But you’ll let me know if you find anything, right?

HAYLE

Sure, kid. Sure.

SFX: Ophelia and Isaac walk across gravel.

SFX: Car doors open and shut.

SFX: Street noises fade.

SFX: The engine starts.

ISAAC

How about we go home? I think there’s some pizza in the fridge.

OPHELIA

Okay.

ISAAC

(The most awkward man alive) Just watch, Ophelia. Things are… They’re gonna be okay.

SFX: Recorder clicks on.

OPHELIA

As you can probably guess, I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. Maybe three hours, tops. I didn’t hear from Sheriff Hayle that afternoon, but later that night Isaac told me that James had no idea where she was, either. They didn’t find her car, cell phone. Nothing. It’s like she was whisked away. Not in Kansas anymore. Now there’s just… hoping and waiting.

Wow, I couldn’t even convince myself for five seconds, huh? I know the sheriff has good intentions, but she’s got to be the dumbest person alive if she thinks I’m going to sit back like a good little girl while she does all the work. I’ve got a good brain and a car and a tape recorder. I know Amsterdam like I know my own brain, and I know Kitty even better. I’ve got, you know, goodness and the power of love on my side. That’s all it takes, right?

Let’s get ‘er done.

SFX: Recorders click off. 

SFX: The light chatterings of a crowd.

HAYLE

I’d like to thank everyone who came out to this preliminary search. As you know, Kitty Scott has been declared missing as of yesterday, presumably since very early that morning. Now, Kitty is no longer a minor, so no Amber alert has been issued, but her safe recovery is still an APD priority.

We will now be breaking into small groups of two or three to comb the area between the Scott residence on Birch Street and Foxhole Road. We’ve passed out maps with individual areas highlighted. Those will be your search areas. The whole thing should be about five square miles. If you find anything suspicious, please let the police department know as soon as possible, and an officer will be dispatched. Sound good?

SFX: Murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

LIAM

Hey, Ophelia! Uh, Fee!

OPHELIA

Liam? Hey.

LIAM

Do you have a search partner yet?

OPHELIA

Well, I was with my uncle, but I think he’s gone off somewhere. You can be with me, if you want.

LIAM

Great, thanks.

SFX: They start walking. 

SFX: The sound of the crowd disappears.

I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. About this whole thing. I know you’re best friends and all.

OPHELIA

Yeah, we’re pretty iconic. Dynamic duo, kind of thing. Sundae number two.

LIAM

It really sucks, then. That she would just leave like that.

OPHELIA

So that is what people are saying. That she’s a runaway.

LIAM

I mean, yeah. Just from what I’ve heard, it doesn’t seem like she had a lot of Amsterdam spirit.

OPHELIA

That much is true. She doesn’t.

LIAM

But you don’t think she ran?

OPHELIA

Even better. I know she didn’t.

LIAM

Then what happened to her? Maybe it’s just me, but if it were my best friend, I would rather she have run away than anything else. Better out there and free than here and hurt, you know?

But I’m sure she’s fine!

OPHELIA

I know that Kitty wouldn’t leave voluntarily because I’m still here. She wouldn’t run away. Not without me. Kitty is in Amsterdam, and I’m going to find her. Just watch.

SFX: Outro music.

NARRATOR

This episode of Have You Seen Me? was written by Emma Quinn and directed by Lauren Miles. It starred Emma Quinn as Ophelia Joy, Tobias Paul as Liam Summers, Gina Moravec as Sheriff Hayle, Jared Bruett as Isaac Joy, Lauren Miles as the Igloo Employee, and featured Kashia Ellis-Taylor as Kitty Scott. This episode was recorded at Redhawk Radio with sound production by Mikel Prater.

If you like what we do and want to support us financially, please consider becoming a donor on Patreon for as little as $1 a month. [EDITOR’S NOTE: We have now switched over to a per-episode payment schedule] Go to patreon.com/hysmpod to learn more. If you would like to support us emotionally, consider leaving us a rating and review on iTunes. Follow us @hysmpod on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr, or at Have You Seen Me? Podcast on Facebook. We would love to hear from you.

Thank you for listening, and keep your eyes open.

SFX: Outro music fades.

[larissel]

Day 1: Stars/LETTERS

Fandom: Legend of Korra

Ship: Baavira

Words: 1863

Summary: The many letters she sent him throughout the years and the one she didn’t.

A/N: Baavira Week has officially begun, and I had fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy.

[AO3]

174 AG

Dear Baatar,

Hey, how are you?

- Kuvira

Two weeks later, the letter was sent back to Kuvira, unread and unopened. She held it tightly in her hold, staring down at it with an unwavering gaze before slipping the envelope under her thin mattress without a word or even a single sound escaping her lips.

174 AG

Dear Baatar,

There are many things I often overhear from those chatty guards who are unfortunately standing guard to keep a close eye on me, as if I can actually cause harm in here. It’s pitiful having to listen to their dreadful lives, how boring it is—it’s no wonder one of their spouses left them. I, at the very least, like to believe I’m the first exciting thing that has ever happened to them. However, I must admit that their companies aren’t unwarranted.

It gets so quiet here, especially at the night where I am surrounded by these wooden walls and floors. My wrists are tied down to the very element I speak to, but all I receive in return is nothing. I am dreading the night. The nightmares are back and I’m tired.

Yet, this is still more than I deserve. I hope you’re doing all right.

- Kuvira

174 AG

Dear Baatar,

Problems are beginning to arise in this forsaken city. Criminals fighting amongst criminals, the rich taking an advantage of the weak, an unfit president who only cares about his own imagery and hide, and worst of all, the Avatar chose the wrong time to disappear again. The people are furious and I should also add the fact that the spirits are somehow involved too. I guarantee none of this would’ve happened if I was in charge. To make matters even worse, the Earth Kingdom is currently sitting in an unrestful state and the fools here are too damn stubborn to admit they need my guidance.

- Kuvira

174 AG

Dear Baatar,

Your mother is still an idiot.

- Kuvira

174 AG

Dear Baatar,

I was right…once again: they do need my help. I try not to be cocky about it, but I couldn’t help it but to let it slip out. I’m going to be temporarily released under the watchful eyes of the Avatar. None of her friends trust me, which I don’t blame them for their resentment but it’s not like I care about their opinions either. I am not doing this for them. I am only here for the people…our people. They still have the best interest of my heart. I would do anything to keep them safe and bring order back, even if it means I’m the one who’s no longer leading this cause. But who knows what will happen, maybe our people still wants me and my voice to lead the cause. I just hope I haven’t lost my touch.

It’s been a while since I my fingers touched the earth and the warmth of the sun kissing my skin.

- Kuvira

175 AG

Dear Baatar,

I hate to admit it, but this new order they’re implementing for the Earth Kingdom may work.

- Kuvira

179 AG

Dear Baatar,

It’s happening. I’m finally being released from prison after serving for five years, but I’m not a free woman just yet. Apparently, the court wanted to sentence me to life or send me to death row, I was lucky enough to have Korra by my side and vouch for me. I know, right? It’s hard to believe my former enemy is now a friend, a very good friend. She have been coming by three times a week, these meditation sessions we have together have been helpful to ease my mind. I don’t deserve her friendship.

Well, this may be the last you’ll hear from me for a while. By the time you get this letter, I have been sent out to work for the United Republic under the watchful eyes of the United Forces. I have been contracted to work off the rest of my sentence as a hard laborer. They say it’s awfully pitiful if my talent were wasted away behind bars. I just hope they don’t change their minds, I’m not as skilled as I used to be.

Until then, I’ll talk to you later.

- Kuvira

P.S. I hear you opened your first business. Congratulations.

180 AG

Dear Baatar,

It’s quite amazing to see how far the teleological boom has spread throughout the Earth Kingdom in just a few years; things we weren’t able to achieve during the Earth Empire’s reign, and speaking of that, I have been thinking more and more as of late, reminiscing the past…albeit, nothing fondly. I realized that there were things I could’ve done better, things that wouldn’t make me into the monster I was...still am perhaps. I did my best to apologize to those I had hurt…which reminds me…

I’ve never apologized for all of the physical and emotional pain I caused you. When I shot that warehouse, thinking you were dead, part of me at that very moment died too and so did my humanity where I felt like I was drifting into an eternal and cold darkness until Korra pulled me back to reality…and when I first heard you survived the ordeal. You have no idea how relieved I felt, crying with tears of joy and tears of sadness because you could’ve been dead because of me.

There’s nothing I can do to take back what I did and there’s no amount of fantasies and thinking about all of the what-ifs could ever change anything. All I could do is to say sorry. You don’t have to forgive me or ever; no amount of forgiveness could ever erase the things I have done. I accepted that fact. The prices of my sins are being paid for right now and maybe throughout my future lifetimes. I’m willing to take that burden for you too.

Tell your family – especially your mother – that I’m sorry for everything.

- Kuvira

180 AG

Dear Baatar,

Give Bolin and Opal my congratulation and best regards. I heard they’re tying the knot on this very I have written this letter, I’m glad; they really are my favorite couple. But I just realized today would’ve been our fifth wedding anniversary if things went according to plan.

- Kuvira

180 AG

Dear Baatar,

The Earth Kingdom is always more beautiful up north, the sky is clearer and I can see the stars better. It’s breathtaking, but it still doesn’t beat the view back at Zaofu. Are they still as beautiful as they were like the many nights we used to share when we were younger? The tales you would often tell and ones I’ve never get tired of hearing, my favorite is still about the Four Symbols in the sky. But I am not here to discuss old memories and the sake of nostalgia…

The first snowfall is here now, winter has arrived. You know how dangerous it can be in this region at this time of the year. This may be the last you’ll hear from me until spring comes.

- Kuvira

189 AG

Kuvira never thought this day would come when she stepped out of the Republic City’s police department, today is finally the day she’s a free woman; a fifteen year sentence completed, what a journey it has been. Her eyes lingered on the spirit portal from the distant, the city illuminating under its ethereal glow and how the shadows are dancing on the building walls.

Her gaze eventually turned away, turning to the empty streets. It was past midnight, no one could be seen walking in the street where others thought it would be the best and wisest idea that she should be release at this hour where she wouldn’t be met with a large press and an unwanted crowd. She knew well enough that she still wasn’t the most popular figure and it would take a long time for others to at least not view her with contempt.

She was waiting for her pickup that should’ve been here moments ago, dropping her off at her new home in the city. Her arms clutched the box she held tightly where it contains her old uniform during her time as the Great Uniter, a few of her personal items, and the many letters she sent through the years. She must have sent hundreds – thousands – of letters. Many of which were returned to her while others she’s sure enough have been lost…or burned.

However, there was only one that she hadn’t sent out. One of which that was fresh and pressed.

She knew what words were contained within the envelope:

Dear Baatar,

I missed you. I still love you.

- Kuvira

She really is a coward, too afraid to know the truth that he moved on and finally settled down where he no longer loves her. The very thought of this disappointed her, wanting to hit herself over and over again for having such feelings, it was only a few years ago she encouraged him to move on…find someone nice he can settle down with. Oh how quick the mind can change, regretting sending that letter out.

Maybe he finally moved on…married with kids that his mother can spoil…happier than he was with her.

Her thoughts were cut off when she heard a roar of an engine, looking up to see a satomobile was parked by the sidewalk in front of her. She felt nervous when the figure exited out of the vehicle, not knowing who they are as they approach her. Kuvira hoped whoever this may be held no ill feelings for her. However, as the figure got closer, her eyes squinted to get a better look at them before her eyes widened. “I-It’s you…” She began, feeling as though her entire world stopped for a moment.

“B-Baatar…”

He gave her a smile. “Hello.” He greeted her.

“What are you doing here?” Kuvira asked, confused.

“The chief sent me to get you.” His eyes moved down to the box she was holding with the letter resting on top catching his attention immediately.

“You don’t have to read it!” she squeaked out, a noise she never thought she would ever make in her life; embarrassingly, she sounded like a young and shy schoolgirl. Unfortunately, her words fell into deaf ears when Baatar was already reading the letter, quickly shutting her eyes shut tightly and kept her head down where she felt fear thundering in her chest. Her fear only increased when it became quiet for too long, her rapid heartbeats are the only ones she could hear pounding in her ears right until he called out to her with a note of his own waving in front of her face. “Is this…for me?” She asked warily.

“You really are a stubborn fool who doesn’t know when to quit,” he said gently, amused. “Go on, read it.”

Kuvira stared at the note for a moment before she slowly took it reluctantly into her hand, eyes welling up with tears when she read what he wrote:

Dear Kuvira,

I love you too.

- Baatar

[afuckingtoole-blog]

Fare Thee Well

And I guess it makes sense that he came as everything died around me. He brought me back to life three times just to kill me all over again. Jesus I’ve never felt more alive. Hell, I’ve never felt more dead. You can’t be alive like that for as long as I was. It had to die. I had to die.

I don’t know any other way to put it then I just keep running the fuck into the pink hoverboard on my floor and I don’t even want to bend down to move it. My lights don’t work right now and I don’t have the heart to leave my room and flip the switch to get them started again. How do you describe that feeling to someone? Not wanting to go downstairs to turn on your own electricity. Everything is dying and I just want to listen to “when a man loves a woman” by Percy sledge and “hello darlin” by Conway Twitty.

I think that song was ours. We felt it and took it for our own. I played it that first drive we took together, the one that lasted til 3 A.M. I looked at him and he just gave me that lopsided grin. You wouldn’t know, but it’s the face where he looks at you like you’re a little bit crazy in the best way possible. I think he loved me then. He added that song into his playlist. I know he listens to it.

When he came back and I met his parents and felt whole again, he played it as though it was ours forever. “You’re just as lovely as you used to be.” three times he kissed me that night. Quick on the mouth. I felt him though and I felt his soul open up and for that one minute it was bright outside at 12 am. It was so sunny. You could almost see the sunrise peaking behind his eyes. Holy shit the sun was right there, I’d go blind looking into it for hours.

If that doesn’t describe it, whatever it is I’m feeling and running towards and he’s running from, I don’t know what does.

Maybe he’s thinking that last verse.

“if you should ever find it in your heart to forgive me, come back darling, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Maybe he’s not.

Maybe I’m crazy.

Maybe I’m just killing time.

In my mind, even though its over, we’re slow dancing in fancy clothes, his suit up against his skinny frame, my long green dress skimming the floor a bit too much. I’m in my converse like always. The ones that remind me of the sun. We’re dancing to the song my dad used to sing me. The one where fools rush into love. I can’t help it.I’m standing on his toes and he’s looking at me. Really looking at me.

Take my whole heart too.

I can’t help it. I really cant.

I’m trying to sleep again but he’s right there in front of me. He’s there at my door and it is so real. He’s right in front of me. I’m tip toed and holding onto him. Holy shit, his lips are chapped as always. Use some chapstick, baby. Drink some water, darling.  His mouth lingers on my fore head. My nose. He’s looking me in the eyes now and curving his back to see me clearer. Head to head. Nose to nose. Theres that smile, the one I’d fight wars for. All with his eyes he tells me, fare thee well baby, nothing worth living without you.

You don’t get to decide when things don’t work anymore. I fought a war for this to work. I let him walk away while I stood on eggshells and my feet were bleeding and I was so scared. I don’t think he hates me. I don’t think he feels the way he says he does. How could he? You can’t look at someone like that and feel that way. That doesn’t work like that. The science doesn’t add up.

I miss it all. I miss the not knowing and the stairs of glass and fighting for attention and fighting for him and him not looking at me and him looking at me and him holding me and him loving me in all those moments where he stared at me like the first time. He’d light up, I saw it. My light house, I was in the ocean drifting. Guided me to shore. And I know I’m told I’m the lucky one, I’m the one with the future. But my future seems like it’s bathed in blacks and blues without the sun at midnight. Without the sun in my hand. Maybe he’d bring me down, but I’d let the water fill my lungs and tie me to the ocean floor just to be near him one more time.

I’m not living right now. I’m just killing time.

He’ll walk into my life again in the casual way he always does. Even thought it’s over he’ll walk right back in and start it all over again. It’s sad and its sick, but I’d look at him dead in the eyes and say ‘Hello darlin, it’s been a long time.’.

He’ll be just as lovely as he used to be.

[kyuu-rereads-umineko]

Ep6, Chapter 3 (Part 1)

Who decides who has the right to fall in love, and who decides who is or isn’t “furniture”?

oh god the chapter starts with hope i’m not ready for this

We get a quick recap of how things usually go - the typhoon hasn’t arrived yet though it’s fast approaching, Team Natsuhi is concerned about covering up Kinzo’s death again, Jessica and Kumasawa have left to go pick up the rest of the family on Niijima, and so on. Shannon and Kanon are busy preparing the guesthouse.

Shannon mentions that she likes cleaning the guesthouse (even though the mansion has more than enough rooms for the whole family), and Kanon says, “Yeah, it’s nice and quiet without Madam and all the annoying servants.”

The two of them discuss Shannon’s carelessness, but interestingly, instead of shrinking away from Kanon’s criticism, Shannon smiles and thanks him for helping. This is actually really interesting, I’d forgotten how much more... assertive, for lack of a better word, Shannon is here. Hell, when Kanon says “there’s nothing to thank me for,” Shannon calls him out on just wanting to spend time with her, saying he’s “such a kid.” She doesn’t even blush when he mentions George.

Maybe I’m reading into it too much, but hmm. It kinda feels like it’s a reflection of Tohya’s memories of what Shannon was like, in 1980? It’s true that Battler met Yasu face-to-face more than once (Shannon, Kanon, herself as Beato towards the end) on Rokkenjima Prime, but... well, his first impression of Kanon is unsociable and awkward. It’s true that Shannon is kind of clumsy, easily embarrassed, and shy, but thinking back to previous episodes - the narrative sorta put young Shannon in a bit of a “big sister” role to Battler and Jessica, didn’t it?

What I’m trying to say is, it reads to me like Tohya’s drawing on his memories of a “big sister”-esque Shannon, circa 1980, and extrapolating that to 1986. Of his four episodes, we don’t get a focus on Shannon and Kanon alone together very much - they die right off the bat in Ep3, they’re surrounded by the other adults in Ep4, and Ep5 is more focused around Natsuhi.

I’m not really sure what I’m driving at with this, or if it means anything. It’s just kind of an interesting parallel to Yasu’s Eps - there, Kanon was definitely the one “in control” during some of their scenes together (I’m thinking mainly of when she’s invited to play cards with the cousins), whereas here, Shannon is definitely leading the conversation. At any rate...

“You keep making fun of me and George-sama... but how is it going between you and Jessica-sama?” STRAIGHT TO THE POINT HUH

And when Kanon tries changing the subject, Shannon pushes him onto the bed and asks why he opted not to welcome the rest of the family with Jessica. He puts up a weak protest of, “Because I have work to do.”

“Liar. You don’t actually have any work at all.” yeah well you’d know wouldn’t you

“Normally, Kanon was the one in control, but when it came to romance, it was the opposite.” Interesting that the narrative decides to make that note, seeing as Shannon was pretty clearly “in control” before the subject turned to romance!

Even putting Jessica/Kanon aside, though, I can think of another very good reason for her to decide against meeting the relatives - Battler. Kanon and Battler’s first encounter in the rose garden didn’t go smoothly, but in that case, she had the advantage of being able to run away and hide. If she were on the boat with the relatives the whole way from Niijima to Rokkenjima? Not so much.

“...Despite what happened after the cultural festival, [Jessica] really does like you, Kanon-kun.” He reacts, seemingly in disbelief. “Even though... I’m furniture...” And this time, Shannon calls herself furniture as well in response. This really is almost a complete reversal of how things were in, say, Ep2 - Kanon is pretty reactionary here, as opposed to his proactive “stop it nee-san we’re furniture” approach earlier.

Kanon repeats the refrain of “we can’t love humans because we’re furniture,” but Shannon makes an interesting comment in response: “Maybe we’re furniture... just because we think that.”

I can get two meanings out of that - from a Yasu standpoint, this is the kind of internal argument she’s been having for a very long time. The emotions are what makes love what it is, not the physicality, so she shouldn’t have anything to fear in revealing her true form to George, or Jessica, or Battler. They should love her for who she is, not what.

...And yet, on the other side, there’s what Beato says. Yasu’s secrets are so much deeper than just some negative emotions or thoughts she’s had from time to time - in the case of Shannon and George, their whole relationship is built on one of her “secrets,” and to Yasu, there’s a very real danger of the whole thing coming crashing down on her if George learns the truth. While I’d like to think that, for all of my ragging on him, George would truly be able to accept the truth about “Shannon,” there’s absolutely no question that the nature of their relationship would change from then on. The same goes for Jessica and Battler. She’s trapped between “They love me for who I am, it’ll be fine,” and “I’ve been deceiving them and lying to them for years, no one could forgive me for that.”

...And that’s without getting into all the complicated emotions that are around her relation to Kinzo...

Carrying off of that, the second meaning: it’s meant as a message to Yasu, from Tohya/Battler. Even knowing the full weight of the secrets she’s carrying, and how much she’s tearing herself apart in agony, he’s saying, “I - we - would still love you.” Sort of like how George and Jessica’s fantasy fights in Ep4 were a “love letter” about how much Shannon and Kanon - and by extension, Yasu, even if they weren’t consciously aware of her - meant to them.

And, you know what? I can really, truly believe that all three of them - Battler, Jessica, and George alike - would still love her. The nature of their relationships would most definitely change, but I can readily believe that their love would still be there. We already know Battler did, to the point of throwing away his own identity for her; even if it’s one-sided, George’s passion and determination about making the family accept his engagement with Shannon (or, if they won’t, how he’ll leave them behind) is extremely strong; and while Jessica’s infatuation with Kanon might be fundamentally due to her emotional needs (how much she wants to fall in love), there’s also her friendship with Shannon. Even if she’s a bit thoughtless in how she treats Shannon from time to time, I think that friendship means an awful lot to her.

Anyways, back to reading. Kanon states, “I don’t have any special feelings for Milady Jessica. I only think of her as the daughter of the family we serve.” O-ouch, Yasu...

“You know... there is a chance that George-sama... will propose to me tonight.” And Kanon’s expression changes immediately. They both know exactly what that means.

“You really think you can marry a human even though you’re furniture?” Shannon calmly replies, “I think I can.”

Y’know, if this were any of the first four Eps, I’d know how to read this immediately: “I think I can” means that Yasu’s made up her mind. Her roulette starts spinning at midnight.

In the context of Ep6, though... I’m not immediately sure what to think. Maybe it’ll get a bit clearer as I read more of it. (I’m actually going to make a note to come back to this exchange once I’ve got a better picture of the Ep as a whole)

“That dream future that George-sama has imagined for you two... is something you can never give him.” Oh shit. I completely forgot that Kanon lays it out that bluntly. Tellingly, Shannon hesitates in response, in contrast to her confidence throughout the scene this far.

“I’m impressed you’ve managed to trick him for this long. Do you really think you can keep tricking him like that forever? Even though you still haven’t been able to tell him that you’re furniture?” As utterly terrified (and not without good reason, mind!) Yasu is about telling the truth to anyone, she still resents herself for not being honest, still feels like she’s lying to everyone about who she is. As much as I do believe that the cousins would understand just how heavily everything was weighing down on her if she did come clean, I can also very easily see why it’s such a frightening prospect to her. Which, again, is a conflict she has herself:

“...Being furniture or being human... has nothing to do with this. I believe that George-sama will accept all of me.”

“And yet you don’t have the courage to check and make sure.” Shannon doesn’t reply, instead switching tracks to saying that she’ll probably accept George’s proposal.

Shannon’s lack of response here is interesting to me. If she had replied, even if it were to just reaffirm “I’m sure George will accept me,” then I’d read it as a reassurance from Tohya - that Yasu doesn’t need to be frightened, because the emotions behind her relationships are very real, and very strong.

The fact that he didn’t put such a “love letter” in at this moment, though... I think it’s a gesture of respect. To contrast, when Yasu is utterly horrified to learn of Kinzo’s assault on Beatrice II, Genji, Kumasawa, and Nanjo (from what I recall - it’s been a while since I read Confession) all jump to Kinzo’s defense, explaining how he was in pain and how much he was suffering.

Which, I feel, is true! Ep7′s depiction of Kinzo and Bice’s interactions do make me believe that he would’ve suffered a great, great deal at her death. The thing is, in telling Yasu that when she reacts with disgust and horror, they’re effectively invalidating her own feelings. She’s horrified, but Kinzo didn’t mean to rape his daughter, he was hurting too, so please don’t hate him too much? Intentionally or not, they’re making her feel like she’s being irrational in reacting so strongly.

In comparison, Tohya’s writing doesn’t admonish her for being so scared. There’s no sense of “Don’t be afraid, you should know we’ll accept you,” - which, given Yasu’s intense self-loathing, would probably sound to her like “If your love for us was real, you’d know we’d accept you, you wouldn’t be afraid of telling us the truth.”

Instead, while he does reinforce throughout his writings that, yes, the cousins really, truly did love her (albeit based on what little they knew about her), he doesn’t push that she “should’ve” been brave enough to speak up. He respects her feelings on the matter and doesn’t invalidate them, even as he tells her how much he loves her in her entirety.

Anyways. “As Shannon looked up at the ceiling, she spoke of the imagined future that she and George would create. Though some anxiety over the future appeared on her face... so did joy from discovering what it was like to live with love.”

Kanon says that she’s “incredibly stubborn,” and she replies, “I want to live life my own way. ...I’d like to stop being afraid, about who’s furniture and who’s a human.” Yasu...

Kanon sulks over to the window, reflecting on how Shannon’s tale “had no chance of a happy ending. ...However, he also knew that no words of his could change her mind now that she had made her decision.” The harsh truth of the situation is that, no matter how much Shannon postures about how “being furniture” shouldn’t matter, about how she’s sure that George can accept it... Yasu still can’t bring herself to believe any of it.

Kanon asks why she’s even bothering talking to him about it, and she says, “What I want to know... is how you feel about Milady.”

As usual, Kanon denies having any attachments to Jessica, and Shannon immediately calls him out.

“Why do you think that’s a lie?” “I know. I’m your big sister. [...] I know everything about you, Kanon-kun.” ahahaha oh man 

“I’m rooting for you in the only way I can!! Otherwise... even I...!” Shannon asks him to finish that thought, and he screams, “Even I... wanted to love Milady...!!!”

At Shannon’s prodding, Kanon lets out how he really feels about Jessica. It’s pretty easy to read in terms of Yasu - she’s confronting her own emotions, and finally finding a word to put to them: love.

“In fact, by saying it aloud, he finally understood how he truly felt.”

“Both of us are exactly the same, locked up on Rokkenjima and living without any hope at all...! And yet, Milady was able to light her own path and create her own fate...! She was so dazzling that I envied her!! I felt as though, if I could be with her... I could find my true self, instead of the pitiful person I am now...!!” Oh lord, does this hurt to read.

On one hand, like with Jessica urging Kanon to try her “create another self” thing way back in Ep2, I get a strong sense of bitterness from this dialogue, for the exact same reason - “I’ve already been fucking doing that and it’s not working, stop tormenting me with that,” if you will.

On the other hand, though... I can kind of imagine these being Yasu’s own, raw thoughts on the matter. If Jessica’s able to find a way to truly be herself despite the burden she’s shouldering, then maybe... if Yasu were by her side, she’d be able to, too?

Kanon reflects on how much it hurt to reject Jessica after the cultural festival. Said it before, will say again: I’m sure that Jessica wasn’t the only one crying herself to sleep that night...

“You know what? Whether or not you deserve to fall in love is something that you decide for yourself. Being furniture or not has nothing to do with it.”

I just want to let that line stand on its own for a moment.

Ultimately, that’s the one thing Tohya is trying to tell Yasu through his own writings, and one of the things Umineko itself has been quietly poking us with all along - that everyone is deserving of love, of having someone reach out to try and understand them, of having someone see them for who they truly are underneath the mask they present to the world. That everyone is human, everyone carries both the potential for kindness and cruelty inside of them. That making the effort to see and understand someone’s heart is difficult - but it’s worth it.

With that, Shannon “grants” Kanon the right to fall in love. He thanks her, feeling “as though I can finally... see the sea...”

Shannon reinforces that she’s decided on accepting George’s proposal. “I intend to leave this island and start a new life in our new world. [...] I’ll leave this island... and after that, I’ll never return again. ...I’ll have to say farewell to you, Kanon-kun.”

And then it gets interesting: “If you do love Milady from the bottom of your heart, and if your feelings are at least as strong as my feelings for George-san... then you and I will have to settle whose feelings are really stronger.”

“This way is best for both of us. ...Don’t give up on your feelings for my sake.” “Even though my selfishness might keep you from your happiness...?” “I’m fully aware of it... My happiness... is hurting you as well.”

“We have no choice but to hurt each other.”

“...Nee-san. Living with you... made me happy.” “Me too. I wouldn’t have lasted this long without you.” “...And I wouldn’t have realized how dazzling Milady is... if it weren’t for you.”

The two of them decide that no matter what the outcome is, they’ll celebrate and support whoever wins.

“After all, by now... We are not furniture.”

[abyssal-depths]

On restlessness, drained energy, and fleeting relationships

The past few days have made me feel a certain kind of emptiness – the kind that almost feels like it’s always been there but only decided to make itself known now. It’s familiar yet strange and I can’t put my finger on it despite all the time I’ve had to myself to think about it. My nights have been a little too quiet, a little too long, and far too deep as the days pass.

I’m writing this as a way for me to assess my emotions that I have probably been bottling up for the longest time. Perhaps it’s my incapability to express it properly, the absence of an individual to discuss it with, or my lack of time to sit down and confront myself once and for all. It could be one of those reasons or maybe even all of them all at once. Nevertheless, I imagine ending this piece with a better perspective and hopefully, a clearer mind.

Right now I feel like my peers are too preoccupied to deal with me and I, on the other hand, don’t feel the need to reach out to them that much. Looking back at my non-romantic relationships, I understand that  I’m one who often has someone to talk to despite growing up without any siblings. I always find myself talking to someone whether it be online or not, but if there’s one thing about me, it’s that I know how and when I need to isolate myself when I need to. I know when to be alone without feeling lonely. However, now that I’m feeling under the weather, I feel different. In fact, I feel lonely, and it scares me.

Have I always felt lonely without having the guts to admit it to myself? I’d like to think otherwise. Although it might not have been all the time, to be fair, perhaps I have at some point, somewhere down the line and failed to acknowledge it.

So here’s the thing – right now, at this very moment, I’m lonely and I’m not sure why. If my friends find out about this, they might tell me something like, “Hey, you should have come to me” or, “You know I’m always here for you, right?” and my problem with that is the fact that they can’t be bothered with what I’m dealing with. It’s like they’re all getting on with their lives and I’m stuck here, taking my time and figuring things out for myself.

Moreover, I’m not sure if they’ll be able to tell me something I haven’t already anticipated. What they might tell me, I’ve already told myself. I guess it’s just better having other people say it for you. It makes you stronger, it gives you assurance, a form of consolation, and the feeling that someone is actually there. But that’s too bad because nobody has time for such genuine and sincere words to put a stop to my insomnia. And that’s okay, because nobody owes me anything anyway.

If there’s anything the feeling of loneliness has taught me, it would most probably be that I have to fight my own battles, and I have been doing that for as long as I remember. The only difference is that it feels slightly harder now. I think people paint me out to be independent but the truth is I’m not. I’d like to think that what I really am is brave. Living with so much fear taught me to put everything aside and deal with my responsibilities, get on with my life.

So why do I feel so lonely now? Reflecting on my relationships with my friends, I think a lot of them think I’m selfish by nature. None of them have said it to my face, but I feel it and I know it. I don’t blame them because I grew up with everything being handed down to me even without asking. Ultimately, I don’t blame them because I myself think I’m selfish, and perhaps that’s also the reason why I’m like this now.

Well, after being deeply absorbed in careful thought, I’d like to believe that there’s a misunderstanding. I’m not selfish – I’m actually quite the opposite. To answer the ongoing question that has been bothering me these past few days, I think the reason as to why I feel so alone is because I have been giving myself a little too much to other people.

My friends often come to me past midnight to talk about how they feel and air out their problems. I, on the other hand, despite planning to go to bed, immediately sit up and listen to what they have to say. Oftentimes, I also try my best to comfort them whenever I’m able to find the right words to say. I’d like to think that I’m bad at it, but my friends always come back whenever they are in need of solace, so I guess it might mean something.

If I’m being honest, the truth is that I now realize that perhaps that is exactly why I feel so drained. Don’t get me wrong – I love being there for the people I love but I think I’m almost always there and the saddest part of it all is that they aren’t there for me when I need them. People always think I’m okay, and that’s why nobody really reaches out to me. Some of them try, but I don’t tell them everything. In fact, if I told my friends I want to kill myself right now, I know a handful of them who’d think I’m being utterly ridiculous.

Mental and emotional breakdowns aren’t for me because they think those things “aren’t very Maye.”  Sometimes I feel like people think I’m not human and maybe that’s also why I’ve been having such a hard time being one – one who can breakdown and cry, be ugly, restless, and lost. It’s just so exhausting and it hurts to know that I don’t have that one person whom I can call my best friend. I have a lot of close friends I hold dear to me, but they all have their own best friends.

Sometimes I feel like I have a best friend, then after a while I find them hanging out with someone else, without me. And I think that’s why I have grown to look out for myself too much, thus looking so selfish in the eyes of others. But the thing is, I’m too selfless and I feel like I have so little left in me that’s why I try my best to protect myself at all costs. And quite frankly, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

To solve my problem of drained energy and fleeting friendships, I can now say that channeling my energy into creating art or simple writings such as this truly helps in keeping me afloat. Despite the occasional pain, I think I can forgive myself every now and then for not expecting anything in return. What’s important to me is that those who need someone, have someone, so they don’t have to go through what I’m going through. Here’s to being more honest with myself, meeting new people, keeping those who truly matter, and developing newer and better relationships. More importantly, here’s to being more in spite of feeling so little.

[autisticblueteam]

Coming Back (Alpha/Maine)

[AO3] [Ko-Fi in Bio]

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5513

Summary: Neither of them should have survived, and yet here they are. Coming back from this will take time. And a little company.

Notes: So we can all blame the lovely @herecomesthesniperbutt​ for this because it was her who was writing the Alpha that sent us diving deep into this ship and this AU. This is sort of based off an out there ‘theory’ (more of an AU) around a certain part of the new season, of which none of the details turn up in this early part, but... 

This was finished at midnight and is unedited. Forgive any mistakes, I might edit it later.

Warnings: Disassociation, Self Harm (first part, unintentional)

They didn’t know how long it took them to finally claw their way onto the solid ice at the bottom of the cliff. It had to have been hours. Hours of dragging frozen fingertips, barely protected by kevlar, across thick layers of snow and ice trying and failing over and over again to gain some purchase. Hours of barely holding their head above the freezing water, no helmet to protect their face from the burning cold of the air around them. It was at the bottom of the dark water, far beneath them, alongside the other pieces of their armour.

It was a miracle they’d pulled it all off in time.

But they’d made it.

As they collapsed on the ice their chest heaved; it was a strain to breathe, the air biting at their throat and their lungs and stealing itself away again in an instant. The ice was bitter against their back; the kevlar offered so little protection with its integrity so compromised, with the holes burned through either side, the assorted other tears and slashes. With nothing between their skin and the snow, the back of their head hurt the most and eventually they had to force themselves to sit up, just to lift it away.

But the pain didn’t stop.

The burning cold of the contact faded away, but the pain in the base of their skull blossomed. Growls broke past gritted teeth as agony spiralled out from their implant site, from every one of the fried chips buried along their spine, burning trails through their nerves and the feeling of−

Something stirring in their head.

A snarl ripped up their throat, raw and frantic. No, no, no no no it was gone, it was gone− the EMP, it fried−

“Wha− What? Where am I−?”

Their hands flew to their head, jagged, uncared for nails clawing at their scalp dragging angry red lines across the skin, thin trails of blood bursting to the surface. No. No no no it was supposed to be gone, it was supposed to be gone! Get it out get it out they had to get it out−

“Ow! Ow fucking− hey! Cut that out!”

Get out get out− the scratched harder, tearing at the wounds that had already begun to form. Blood under their nails. Blood running down the sides of their head. It stung but they had to get it out, somehow, they had to get it out!

“Fuck, no, don't fucking kill me I'm sorry I’m sorry−”

It wasn’t going away. It wasn’t going away but the clawing hurt, it hurt too much and eventually their hands fell away. Nails and fingertips raw and bloody. In their head, the voice repeated the same thing over and over: don’t kill me, I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I’m sorry. Over and over and− Nearly a year, nearly a year since the EMP since it fried, went silent. Why now? Why now?

Energy gone, they collapsed back against the sheer cliff face. They sunk down, curled into a ball and buried their face in their hands as weak, distressed growls escaped them. They didn’t understand. They didn’t understand.

The presence in their head−whatever it was−slowly stopped repeating itself, and for the briefest moment their head was silent. No voice. No thoughts. Silence. Silence and the overwhelming feeling of a fear that wasn’t entirely their own. Whatever this was in their head, whatever twisted remains of that thing that had taken them over− it was scared.

Where am I? Where− Where are the others? All those AI? Wasn’t there an EMP? Am I actually a ghost? Ha, fucking take that Washington− Wait, wait, that’s not just my fear, is− is the Meta scared of me?

EMP. Washington. Meta. It’s voice. It didn’t sound like Sigma, Sigma always referred to the Meta as ‘we’.

…Whatever it was, they wanted it out. Why was it there why−

“Hey, hey, uh, I don’t know why I’m here either?” It was replying to them. It was replying to them. And this time the voice was followed by sharp stabbing pains, sparks of agony somehow running through their mind as whatever this was tugged at something, tried to pull away. They made quick, sharp growls, gritting their teeth through the pain. Go away why wouldn’t this thing go away? “I’m trying, fuckdammit−”

They didn’t want this. They didn’t want this. Didn’t want to be that again, didn’t want to be taken over didn’t want to be that again−

“Don’t wanna be− Wait,” there was a pause, “who am I talking to?”

Silence. Their mind raced. Who were they? Not the Meta. Not that. Never that. That had never been them, the chaos in their head that grew with everything that it made them take, made them add. That was gone. That was gone.

But who were they?

They didn’t know. They didn’t know. They didn’t know they didn’t know they didn’t−

“Hey, hey, hey, uh. It's uh− it's okay? I'm not− I'm not the mess that was in here earlier. It's kinda... Quiet, actually?” Then, quieter, almost to itself, “…Maybe that's why I'm not so tired?”

They didn’t know who they were. They didn’t know who they were. Distressed growls rumbled up from their chest. Why didn’t they know who they were?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! Promise, I’m not the thing that was in here before, I uh− I’m Church. Or… or Alpha, I guess?”

Alpha. Alpha. That was what it wanted. The Alpha. A chorus of voices, all repeating that name over and over and over and−

“Holy shit I just keep making everything worse. Uh, it’s okay, that’s not what’s here. It’s dead. Gone.” The voice was strangely… calming. None of that allusive undertone, nothing that hinted that it was trying to make them do anything. All it had asked so far was who they were. It hadn’t told them to do anything, didn’t demand an answer. “Uh… deep breaths, big guy. Deep breaths. …That’s supposed to help, right?”

They grunted. But tried the breaths anyway. Slow, deep inhales and exhales, curling their body in on itself around the burning sensation of the icy air. Better. Hurt, but better.

“Okay. Okay, that’s progress. Uh…” There was a flicker of light, over their shoulder. Barely daring to glance up, they saw the holo of this… Alpha, hovering over their right side. White. Barely stood out against the ice and snow. “…Jesus fuck, is that blood?”

Blood. They frowned, tilted their head down and− Oh. Right. That blood. Two bleeding wounds, directly through the right side of their chest.

That’s not good.

“Shit shit− You got any bandages? Shit. Uh. Get something to press on the wound, I think. I don't know how I know that, fuck−”

They didn’t have anything. Their armour was at the bottom of the dark blue water, out of reach and damaged beyond simple repair. The ice was bare. There was nothing. So they pressed their hand hard over the wounds, as much pressure as they were capable of. It didn’t do much to stop the stream of blood down their chest, and did nothing for the blood running down their back.

“Fuck. Okay, okay− Gotta move. We’ll find something, big guy. Promise. Can you move?”

It was tough, but they were able to push themself up to their feet. Their legs shook; their head spun; their vision danced and blurred in the face of so much empty white. The water was a dead end, and behind them−

A sheer cliff.

“…Well that’s going to be a problem.”

It took hours for them to pull themselves up the sheer wall of ice, their fingers numb. It felt like hours before they managed to pull themselves to their feet, dragging themself across the distance between the cliff’s edge and the broken husk of the Mother of Invention. A trail of blood stained the snow they left in their wake, red on pure white; a sight that had the feeling of panic flooding over from Alpha’s thoughts to theirs.

They weren’t scared. Something told them that this wasn’t enough to kill them.

But they didn’t know why.

Yet ignoring the panic wasn’t easy, there were no walls between Alpha’s mind and theirs; without anything in its way it seeped into their thoughts, their feelings. Panic pushed its way through them, until their legs stumbled beneath them as they tried to move faster, get to the ship quicker and−

They tripped over their own feet, and everything went black.

 When they came around, they were inside what appeared to be a medical bay.

Frowning, they slowly pushed themselves up. They glanced around; definitely a med bay, as in disrepair as it was. The beds were flung around the room; medical equipment scattered everywhere; everything leaning towards one side where the room seemed to tilt. It was cold, too, and dark; no lights were on, and the equipment was all inactive. This bay was dead.

“Hey big guy.”

A flash of white over their shoulder. They growled, swatted out reflexively at the holo that hovered there. “Hey! Hey its just me, big guy! I’m on your side, remember?”

Oh. Right. Alpha.

Here in the darkness of the bay he appeared much clearer than he had out in the snow, a little holographic suit of armour not unlike any other AI unit they’d seen. Except, at least, he wasn’t projecting a helmet.

“How you feeling? You’re uh, all bandaged up now, at least.”

They frowned. Glancing down at themself they saw the bandaging spread across their torso, faint red stains where the holes in their chest were. Oh. When did that happen?

It still hurt. Faint under the haze of everything, but still there.

“There’s some painkillers, if you need them? I don’t know if they’re strong enough but uh, best I could find.” The holo disappeared and reappeared by a small bottle on the tilted bedside table, gesturing vaguely. “These fuckers.”

Hesitating for a moment, they reached out and grabbed the bottle. Scanning the label, something told them that they would do little for them. Still, they made a soft rumbling sound−a thank you.

“No problem, big guy−uh, okay, that reminds me. Introductions. So, like I said, I’m Church. Or Alpha. Whatever. What’s your name?”

Name. Their name. Furrowing their brow they tried to think, but everything was… fuzzy. Distant. They remembered the Meta, they remembered the fight that sent them into the water− but that was it. Everything else was blank.

‘…Don’t know.’

Alpha visibly jumped; the first time they’d directed their thoughts at him specifically since waking up.

“Oh. Okay. Is it okay if I just keep calling you ‘big guy’, then? At least until I think of something, y’know, better. Fuck, I never was good with names,” Alpha said, words drifting into a tone that sounded like they weren’t quite meant for them to hear.

Big guy. Something about that felt… familiar, comforting. Every time he’d used it so far, it hadn’t felt insulting or wrong. So they nodded. Big guy was okay.

“Okay. Okay.” Alpha breathed out, a gesture that they figured was more out of habit as it couldn’t be of any need. “So. I have no idea where we are.”

‘Sidewinder.’

…How did they know that?

“Sidewinder? …Okay. Well, that’s a start. I don’t want you to move with that fucking injury, but I don’t know if there’s any food or fresh water in this place” A pause, “I guess snow is always an option water wise…?”

Alpha kept rambling, his voice and his thoughts both echoing around their brain. Loud. Consuming. But not… forceful, not deliberate; this wasn’t like it, the way it pushed its way into their head and blocked them out from their own body. Their thoughts coexisted with his. It was just loud, louder than everything that the fuzziness covered.

They shifted awkwardly on the bed, withdrew into themself without even really meaning to. They couldn’t figure out what to do with their limbs, they all seemed so− disconnected, from the rest of them.

Really, so did their entire body.

“…Hey,” the buzzing of thoughts dulled, the single word cutting through the haze, “you okay, big guy? I mean, uh, relatively.”

‘Hospitals.’ The answer was a reflex, a reflex that was matched by their hands moving in a sign. ‘And don’t feel… in my body.’

“Oh. There’s nobody here but me, big guy, no doctors and shit. And, uh,” a pause, filled by the dull thrum of his thoughts, “…like, disassociation? Fuck, I don’t know why I know that either.”

‘Maybe. Confusing. S’like being… disconnected.’ Like their limbs weren’t theirs, like their body was moving independently of their mind. Like someone else was in control, again. That was terrifying. ‘…Still a hospital.’

“Suppose that’s fair. Uh, once you’re more healed we’ll move to one of the rooms? I saw some on the way here. Bunks. Should be easy enough to get into,” Alpha said, tapping his little holographic foot against the floor. They looked at him, properly, watched the face he projected flash through the feelings of confusion and awkwardness that they felt in their head. “And, well, I’m here if you need me?”

That startled a small huff-like laugh from them, ‘…Thanks.’

“Alright big guy, sit tight, I’m gonna try something. Without pulling myself out of here because that is not fucking working,” Alpha said. A moment later he continued, in that same tone that suggested he was speaking more to himself than to them, “Can an AI be in two things at once? Who fucking knows…”

There was the sensation of weight lifting from their mind, a presence still there but weaker, as lights began to flicker into life. Medical equipment turned on and off around them, a side effect of whatever Alpha was doing, and the indicator above the door flashed on, ‘open’.

As quickly as it had lifted, the weight settled back in their mind, “Okay, there’s some military rations. That’s something. When’s the last time you fucking ate?”

Good question. A memory drifted just beneath the haze, a grey armoured arm and an offering of food that was thrown away. It left a sinking sensation in its wake. Who…?

‘…Don’t know. Long time.’

“Fuck. Think you can walk? You should eat. Drink. Y’know, human stuff.”

Another huffy laugh escaped, ‘…Walked here. Think I can manage.’

They slipped out of the bed, their legs shaky beneath them; the wound still hurt, a dull throbbing of pain spreading across their chest, but they’d had worse.

If only they knew how they knew that.

“Okay, giving you a map,” Alpha said, as he somehow did just that−a somehow they’d rather not think about. A map appeared in their mind, complete with a marker that pointed them to an open space down the hall. It wasn’t far. They could make it.

It appeared to be an old rec room, in a similar state of disrepair to the med-bay. The marker was directly over an old storage cupboard, the door of it hanging open and a variety of rations packets strewn around the counter beneath it. They crossed the room, picked one up and−not really fussy about the contents−tore it open.

Within a few minutes it was prepared. They sat down on the securest looking seat, face twisting with distaste as they took the first bite. Nevertheless, they pushed through and continued to eat. Food. Warm food.

“Take it slowly, okay? Too much at once and you’ll woof your cookies.”

A third huff of laughter. Alpha had a way of saying things. ‘Am eating slowly.’

It wasn’t overly satisfying, probably barely safe to eat if it was at all and leaving an aftertaste that they couldn’t say was pleasant. But it was food. Right now, that was all they could ask.

“That’s better! Okay, wanna try some water? The taps still work, I think. At least in this area.”

‘…Guess so.’ They moved carefully, food settling in their stomach, and filled a container with water. The first sip was tentative, but when it didn’t taste strange they gulped it all back in one big swallow.

“Hey hey! Take it slow! Again, cookie-woofing is a danger here.”

‘…Way with words.’

“I try.”

Filling the cup again, they took smaller sips. In the silence that surrounded them as they drank−nothing but the sound of whistling wind and creaking metal−they found that the haze came back, all-consuming and making them feel fuzzy around the edges. As their hands disconnected from their sense of their body, they set the cup down. Just in case.

‘…Blurry,’ They thought, after a moment. ‘Everything. In my head. Just remember… it,’ the Meta, the monster, ‘…not me.’

Because that wasn’t them. The Meta. That wasn’t them.

“…I’m a little blurry too,” Alpha said, with the weight of something that he was finally saying aloud. “We’ll work on it, okay? Together.”

Together.

They should be scared. They should fear this AI in their head, the thing that the Meta was searching for all that time. Or at least, seeking to recreate. That echo of that name, surrounded them as the EMP primed and blew− they should be scared.

But together didn’t sound bad.

‘Okay.’

 After a few days, Alpha decided it was better if they moved to a room closer to the food. There were bunks in the hallway connected to the rec room, easily accessed by directing power to one of the doors and overriding the need for a key-code. He didn’t push them to move, letting them go at their own pace. They appreciated that.

Much of their days were spent curled up atop the barely big enough beds, wrapped in the blankets that they’d managed to gather from the other rooms. With everything still so fuzzy, their body not quite feeling theirs most days, it was easier not to move. Cocooned in blankets, a separate world from the dark grey of the dormant Mother of Invention, it didn’t feel quite so bad. It was warmer. Safer.

For the first few days Alpha spent a lot of time offline, recharging from his dips into the ship’s systems. When he was around, he’d talk to them, distract them from the situation with stories−about Red and Blue soldiers, tucked away in a box canyon. Alpha’s fuzz faded away so much quicker than theirs, memories coming back to him and his tiredness fading away the more time that passed. They were almost… jealous, of how much Alpha could remember, when they remained oblivious to even their name.

But the stories were entertaining. And they seemed to make Alpha happy, maybe a little sad too.

“I think I was a bit of an asshole.”

They raised a brow, ‘A bit?’

“Oh, shut up. Thanks for the encouragement.” But there was a smile in his voice, and in his thoughts, and they almost managed to smile back. “…Go back there, if I could. Maybe try and do it all right. Instead of being an asshole.”

Somewhere in the back of their mind, part of them felt the same.

Days passed. Alpha’s presence became comforting, familiar, despite the circumstances. With more energy he’d stay online longer, chat their ear off about this and that as they sat in their blanket nest; as they ate or drank or changed their bandages; as they started to work out despite their wound, trying to keep themself occupied.

When he came online that first day, to find them on the floor of the bunk doing sit-ups, they swore they caught a thought of his, a thought that was buried faster than they could analyse it: Holy fucking shit I am too bi for this.

And though they’d felt heat rise to their cheeks, and though Alpha’s attempt to hide it had only made it more conspicuous, neither of them brought it up again.

Things were getting easier, little by little. Of course, some days were better than others. Some days Alpha’s presence was too much, despite the care he took not to push and despite the friendship that built between them. Some days, the memory of the Meta drove them both into their own corners of their mind.

Some days, they barely remembered what had happened since the cliff.

 One day, Alpha came online to find them deeper into the husk of the ship than they’d ever gone before.

By now he knew them well enough to recognise the state of disassociation that they’d slipped into. Usually their episodes resulted in a day spent under the blankets, not eating, not sleeping, certainly not moving− but now here they were, deep into the Mother of Invention and well past several damaged areas that Alpha had thought impassable. Wandering, but as if they had a destination in mind.

Alpha didn’t interrupt them. Curious to see where they were going.

They moved as if on auto-pilot. No matter the damage in their way they fought past, dragging themselves through debris and up onto the floors above them. Wind whistled through the cracks in the structure, metal creaked dangerously, louder the deeper they headed. Eventually, Alpha was on the edge of stopping them, bringing them up from this state as best as they could−

And then they stopped at the end of a hallway, lined with doors. Doors with nameplates and numbers.

A flash of a memory. The bunks. “…Oh.”

They headed down the hallway, barely glancing at the signs that they passed.

[1] Agent Carolina

[2] Agent North Dakota & Agent New York

[3] Agent South Dakota & Agent Connecticut

And the fourth door, the door that they stopped in front of−

“Agent Maine and Agent Washington,” Alpha said, finally breaking the silence. “Wait, Wash was that other guy. So…”

A low grumbling sound reverberated from Maine’s chest, bouncing off the walls of the empty hall. They automatically typed in the key-code, muscle memory, but the damage to this area of the ship was so extensive that Alpha had never even tried to reconnect the power. Before Alpha could point that out, Maine had forced it manually.

“…Big guy? Uh− Maine? You okay?”

Still too deep. Maine held the door open long enough to get inside, letting it seal shut behind them. That could be a problem later.

For now, the problem was how dark it was. Alpha’s holo flickered into life beside Maine’s head; they flinched at the bright light, casting the room in shadows. It was a simple room but, much like the rest of the ship, everything in it had been thrown around. A sideways incline had sent everything toppling against one wall, the beds cluttered together amongst a variety of old belongings that had fallen out of the few pieces of furniture attached to the walls, the doors flung open.

Maine stared at it. Looked around.

“…You looking for something, big guy?”

Eventually, they caught sight of something. Walking over to the collided beds they knelt in front of an old footlocker, caught on the legs, forcing open the latches and swinging the lid open. Alpha hovered closer, his light letting them see. A frown etched itself into their features, and they started to rummage around.

Slowly the frown began to fade, until after barely half a minute they pulled something from the box−an old data-pad, carefully considered and then placed beside them. Their rummaging began again, until this time they pulled out something smaller− an old pair of dog tags.

Oh. Alpha hovered closer, careful not to get in the way as they lifted the tags into his light.

Agent Maine. A code of some sort. A blood type.

“…Hey,” He sounded gentle. “That’s you.”

Maine nodded, very slowly, but they nodded. Rubbing their fingers across the lettering, they made a few quiet rumbling sounds. Deep, familiar. They were coming back up. ‘…Me. Yeah.’

“I think we should take these back to the room. It’ll be more comfortable to look at the data-pad there, huh? Whadaya say?”

It took a moment, but slowly they nodded, pushed up to their feet. For a long few seconds they stood there and stared, taking in the room around them. Their eyes travelled over the wardrobe; the beds; the bits and pieces strewn around the floor. Blankets; rare physical photos; some clothes; a couple of stuffed cat toys.

“Anything else you wanna bring, big guy?”

They decided to take some clothes, old hoodies and sweatpants and underwear that would be much more comfortable than the damaged kevlar they wore now. In their mind, Alpha made a quiet hum of approval and there was this sensation of… comfort. A sort of pressure against the parts of their minds where they were connected, offering reassurance in a way that made the tension seep away from their shoulders. It should scare them, but−

Maybe they stopped being scared of each other a while ago, now.

Finally, they turned and left−snagging one of those old stuffed cats as they went−setting off on the journey back to the safer parts of the crashed ship. Without their auto-pilot to guide them, they had to wait for Alpha to construct a map to make any progress, but they made it. Eventually.

They wasted no time in stripping away the undersuit, careful around their wound, peeling it away from their body and tossing it across the room. It was of no use to them, now. For a moment they stood there like that, examining the scar tissue that had begun to form over the wounds in their chest, before grabbing their old clothes and starting to re-dress.

Alpha pushed another thought deep, deep down.

Deep down.

…Okay, not that deep down.

All in one breath, and before he could even stop himself, Alpha blurted out− “So like are you single?”

There was a startled huff, a pair of wide brown eyes staring as cheeks turned red and−

Cue internal screaming.

Internal screaming that Maine could definitely hear, because this mental link of theirs was so strong that Alpha still hadn’t figured out how he was supposed to block things from them. Internal screaming that took the form of yelling at himself− Church you fucking dumbass bi why are you like this?!

“…Sorry,” He said, eventually, his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to actually say that.”

Maine shook their head, swatting playfully at Alpha’s holo. It was fine. Even if they had to cough, a little, just to compose themself. When they pulled a face moments later, it wasn’t at Alpha; thought knitted their brows together as they laid the items they’d collected out on their lap. As they tried to remember.

‘…Blurry, still,’ They thought, holding up the ragged black and white cat plushie−ice covered, a little worse for wear. It was familiar. Somehow.

“That’s a cute plushie.”

A faint noise of agreement. Settling it back on their leg, they brushed away the ice. Alpha’s holo flashed out and then reappeared by the stuffed toy, little holographic hands reaching out as if he were petting it. Maine smiled.

‘…Familiar, I guess.’ Brushing their thumb over its fur, over its nose.

“Yours? Or that Washington guy’s?”

They scratched behind its ears, as if it were real, ‘Not mine. Must be his.’

“Huh. Guess he’s less of a grump asshole than I thought he was. Then again…” His helmet disappeared, flashing a grin up at Maine. “…You didn’t exactly turn out like I expected, either.”

Maine chuckled, a genuine sound that made Alpha’s grin grow. ‘Thanks. I think.’

“Definitely a compliment, big guy.”

A playful poke to his holo made him laugh in turn, batting out at their hand just as playfully in return and clambering into their palm. Maine let him. They’d discovered a while back that the connection they shared made it possible to almost feel when Alpha’s holo touched them, a faint sensation that grew stronger only when you were aware of it. It was strange, but it was one of many things that over the weeks that had passed… they’d gotten used to.

‘…Don’t know if this will work,’ Maine thought after a moment, picking up the pad on their leg. ‘Iced. Power’s probably dead.’

“Want me to see if I can start it up?”

They considered it, for a moment, ‘…Try.’

Alpha’s weight on their mind lessened, just slightly, as his holo disappeared from their palm. Bit by bit, the data-pad warmed in Maine’s grip, until the screen flickered into life− with Alpha on the screen, wearing a cheesy grin and waving. If nothing else that earned him a laugh, a smile, and a wave in return.

‘Thanks.’

All at once Alpha’s presence returned, accompanied by a gentle pressure−mental snuggling, almost, an extension of that feeling from earlier. It was… nice. Comfortable. He settled there contently for a moment before responding, a small, “Any time, buddy.”

The data-pad wasn’t perfect. There were damaged pixels in the screen, bits of ice in the edges, and it was slow to load− but it was working. Their old files were still there, everything from chat logs to mission reports to old e-books and old photos. Alpha popped up on their shoulder, watching the screen curiously as they pulled up the old photo files and started to look through.

‘…Old stuff. From the Project.’ It was coming back. The Project. Project Freelancer. ‘…My team.’

A stirring in their connection made them frown, but Alpha pushed it down. A faint feeling of discomfort lingered, but there was no mention of it, and so Maine didn’t push.

Instead they flicked through the photos. Colourful armour, colourful clothes, smiling faces and ridiculous antics. Memories, memories that Maine had wanted to preserve sometime years before now. Of the good times. Of a family.

Seeing it now, it almost hurt.

“Hey. How about you tell me some stories?”

There was a faint flash, Alpha’s holo flickered out. When he reappeared, he was bigger−human sized, significantly shorter than Maine−and lacked armour, choosing instead to project clothes. Maine frowned, but didn’t have time to question him before he reached out and brushed uselessly at a tear that rolled down their cheek.

Crying. They didn’t really do that much.

“Like I told you. Stories. About the good shit. I know it won’t stop the bad shit that’s coming through but− maybe it’ll help?” He continued, offering a smile. “I can even sit in your lap.”

There was a teasing tone, there, a self-deprecating humour in the words. A tone that didn’t expect the answer that Maine gave, after it sank in.

‘…Think I’d like that.’

“…Wait, really? Like, seriously?”

‘Really. S’worth a shot. And company’s… nice.’

Alpha stared, a long look that had Maine raising a brow, before− “Y’know I totally did not expect an actual answer to that but y’know what? I’ll take it.”

Maine sat back, and Alpha’s holo clambered onto their lap. The sensation was there, that odd feeling that their connection gave them stronger than ever as he settled there. Yet it wasn’t intrusive. It felt… natural. Odd, in the lack of weight and the lack of solidity, but… still natural.

And that was how they sat, for hours. There was file after file on that old data-pad, and a story behind every image. A prank; a movie night; a training session; a mission; a day of shore leave. Friends, family, the people that mattered the most even now they were gone−even with the painful thoughts that fought their way up with every reminder that they were gone.

That for a while, Maine was gone, too.

But here, in the wreckage of what there used to be, Maine was coming back. They’d been coming back, slowly, ever since they clambered out of that ice water and been given the chance to fight their way back through that haze that had left them a husk, left them doing everything they could to feel complete again.

Since they’d finally been given the time and care they needed to heal.

“Wow. You were such a fucking nerd.”

Even if it was in the form of another glowing asshole.

 It would be another few weeks before they were able to leave the Mother of Invention. People had started poking around, digging deeper into the ship and finding signs of life. Not only that, but the food was running out. Whether they wanted to or not, they’d need to move soon.

Over those weeks the two only grew closer. Maine’s memories returned in droves, the good and the bad, and the pieces of how this had happened started to slot into place. Complicated, complicated pieces that slotted together in some fucked up jigsaw puzzle−all ending in an Alpha that had somehow reconnected with the fragments that had been torn with them, and a Maine that had finally been freed from the Meta.

“So, big guy. You never did answer me. You single?”

Maine glanced at Alpha where he sat in their lap, brow raised, ‘…Not anymore.’

…and maybe a little something new.