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myownwutheringheights · 5 years

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{Malcolm x Reader} Word Count: 3967

AN: First Prodigal Son Fic! May continue, for now it’s a one shot. Let me know if you’d want more to this story! Reader insert, but reader is not present, just mentioned/discussed, etc.

Warnings: R rating. Reader is pregnant. Mentions of unprotected sex, sex in general. Mentions of choking. Mentions of Malcolm’s trauma/past/mental health. Mentions of reader having unknown mental health issues.

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The bulletproof door shut behind Malcolm and the echo of it lasted longer than usual in his mind. The evidence folder in his hand contained only one photo, yet the pieces of paper felt like a dead weight in his protective grasp. Besides, the items didn’t match up. The evidence folder had just been the first thing on hand at the police department.

Come to think of it, it was pretty twisted, having this image in an evidence folder. He wanted the pieces of paper separated now, the picture moved away from the association with the crude colored folder, but he couldn’t just yet.

He had something to share with Dr. Martin Whitly.

Malcolm pocketed his hands, clenching the stress ball in his jacket pocket that (y/n) had given him, and he tried to hide the long slow exhale from his lips as his bright blue eyes settled on the face of his smiling father. It had been months since his last visit. And Martin would be the last to find out; everyone else already knew. He’d sung like a canary over a drink with Gil one evening soon after (y/n) had told him the news. He’d had to tell someone and try to find a way to sort through every feeling bubbling inside him. A therapist would have been a better idea to help him sort through it all, but it had felt better over a conversation with Gil over whisky. When the first few weeks of uncertainty and danger had past, he told the team. They’d certainly reacted better than he’d expected. Some of it was fake enthusiasm, and easy to spot by a profiler, but it came not from a place of malice but a place of concern; he knew they worried about how he would handle the change. And with his track record, well, he couldn’t exactly blame them. Ainsley was next, and then, the dreaded telling his mother. She’d reacted as poorly as he’d expected at first; convinced he couldn’t handle it, that it was irresponsible and selfish. But after a good long talk with (y/n), and realizing she could go shopping, do some decorating as a result, spend a lot of money, and something new to focus her attention on? A distraction and a new place to center her affections? Her tune changed soon after. They had her love and support. And some of her money, which never hurt.

Only Martin was in the dark all these months later. And he had no right to know. None. But (y/n) had been supportive in whatever his decision would be, and had even offered to go with him. He looked back in regret at the anger he’d flung at her for even suggesting it, knowing she meant well. But he never wanted (y/n) to meet his father. He hadn’t been to see Martin in a long time, but now with each passing week and each passing doctors appointment, the night terrors had come back, and for (y/n)’s safety due to the fits, she was sleeping in another bed. Perhaps telling Martin would somehow help him take the necessary steps to begin this new and strange and terrifying journey; start off on an equal and balanced playing field, where all the players knew what was happening. A new blank slate, and no secrets. Maybe he’d be able to sleep next to her again without fearing he’d hurt her by accident in the throws of a night terror.

But this was a part of his life that Martin Whitly would never touch. Malcolm would see to that; and yet there was a tremor that wouldn’t stop, and he hoped maybe telling him would help put an end to it. So here we was, like Dante descending back into hell.

Dr. Whitly broke the silence. He turned in his chair to face his son, his mouth opening in joyous shock. “Malcolm my boy! This is a surprise! It’s been so long! How have you been? I know you’re not covering a murder…” he said gesturing to the TV, with the news muted. Malcolm held out a hand to silence him.

“I’m not here for that. There’s something I have to tell you, then I’m gone.” The father’s eyes narrowed and he stood slowly, the slight sound of metal on metal from the handcuffs in the wake of the movement.

“Malcolm? Are you alright?” The Surgeon was no fool. He knew very well how his son felt about him. If he was here on his own omission with something he had to share, it had to be serious. But if anyone had heard the words and not know Martin Whitley, or what he had done, they would have assumed he was truly the perfect and concerned father.

“I’m fine,” Malcolm said a little too quickly. Martin’s head tilted to the side, slow and deliberate, and he was clearly fighting back a smile. Malcolm thought about leaving. He didn’t have to tell him. But the long and short of it was that he still wanted to tell his father. Most sons got to share this news with their fathers. Was it so wrong for him to want that moment too? Part of him had to tell him.

“Is it that girl you’re seeing? How’s that going with the night terrors? She down with the restraints? Is she into that sort of thing?” Martin said waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Malcolm held his breath to keep from lunging at the man. Between Malcolm’s visits, and Jessica, he knew too much. Malcolm closed his eyes for just a moment, gave a shake of his head. His hands flexed in his pockets.

“We’re working on all of it, no thanks to you.” He opened his mouth to continue, but Martin cut him off.

“What do you mean “you’re working on it,” what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we worked on it.” His voice firm and the matter final. Martin lifted his eyebrows and continued in his nearly cartoonish voice.

“Gracious she must be something special, I should love to meet her,” And that smile curled as his eyes narrowed just enough to let the glee and the madness all shine through. It was the face that had been shown on the news, the face that would make everyone confirm on sight that he was a killer.

“You’re never going to meet her!” He couldn’t hold back the anger any more, it was pulsing in him like a drug. But the picture in the folder in his hand was a firm reminder, and he took a long, deep breath. “I never should have told you she existed, but she does and…”

“And it’d been quite a while, I’m very impressed considering well….everything. Does your mother like her?” Malcolm looked to the books of the small library and back, his patience lingering on the smallest thread.

“Doesn’t matter, none of that is why I’m here.” What could he have told him? If this was a normal conversation between a normal father and a normal son? Yes Jessica adored her. And so did Ainsley. And so did pretty much everyone else in his life. They said she was an angel or a saint, sent to save him. He would scoff and roll his eyes and make some witty remark whenever these sentiments were expressed. (Y/n) hated those sentiments too. But the reality of it was that (y/n) truly had helped him. He was far from saved, a long way from healed. “People don’t save people, Malcolm. That’s movie garbage,” she’d said. Chronic conditions don’t heal. Night terrors don’t just go away. PTSD doesn’t just vanish because of a pretty smile from a lovely girl who for some reason loved him. Chronic depression and anxiety couldn’t be wished away because someone special came into his life. But he’d lie if he said he wasn’t coping better with her. She had been a soothing balm, and in watching (y/n) dress her own wounds, (everyone had their own wounds), he’d learned to care for his own. It was the best form of mimicry. He found helping her when she needed it turned his mind from his own past, and brought him to the present to want to help her. If she was crying, the only thing he cared about was stopping those tears. It was a partnership in baggage that people prayed for. And it was baggage both were somehow able to manage and carry together. Because when he did have night terrors, she was near by to wake him up. When he had tremors she would hold his hand. And she hadn’t left when he’d panicked, and when he continued to panic about the changes that were coming down the line…just a few weeks left…

Don’t think about that right now.

What else could he have said? It was all the things he’d told Gil, and his mother. Even Ainsley.

That her body wash smelled like (your favorite scent) and somehow it always seemed to put him in a better mood. Scent was strongly tied to memory, and now that scent always made him smile a little. That she’d thrown her weighted blanket at him and told him to get it together on more than one occasion. That she actually asked him questions about his past and searched for the good memories for him to share and bring out. That she really liked being outside and dragged him back into nature to get away from the city. That she’d hauled him out of the area to take an actual vacation. Because she loved vacations, and traveling and getting away and damn it she would bring him along, because everyone needs a break from work and to get out of their own head now and then. The fact she was a person he just connected to in a way that people did when they found something and someone special in their life. (Y/n) was all of that to him. And somehow, best of all, she said he was all that for her too. He didn’t fully understand how or why. Some questions, he had learned, were better left unanswered.

“Malcolm?” His father’s voice didn’t even penetrate his mind. His eyes were cast slightly off to the side lost in his thoughts.

What else wouldn’t he share? What was silent and just theirs?

That he and (y/n) had both caught each other crying in the shower on more than one occasion over the course of their relationship. That they’d faced pretty much every possible one of their fears together, and while it was a cliché to say he believed it had made them stronger, it was the truth. That they’d stay up late on the couch drinking tea or coffee to figure things out, no matter what the issue on hand had been. That (y/n) had understood and worked with him getting over his fear of touch. That her body was perfect to him the way it was and he wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single freckle or scar or hair. That the first time she cried out his name while they were making love, it had made his eyes snap open and made him realize he couldn’t go without her or this. That being inside her was an addiction, that her soft cries and her legs around his waist, trembling on the verge was more intoxicating than any of the rare bottles on his mother’s wine rack. That one time he’d choked her in the heat of oncoming pleasure, on one of his particularly bad days, but he’d stopped himself before it had gone too far, and she’d thoroughly yelled at him after. That Malcolm had promised not to do it again, and he’d kept that promise. That she had forgiven him and he would be forever grateful for it. That he struggled when she wasn’t in the mood and he was fully aware he needed better coping mechanisms. That he was terrified of the oncoming dry spell, but he was determined to make it through. That the feel of her fingers in his hair was soothing and erotic to him at the same time. That she’d told him she wanted kids even with their joint collection of high-class, high-end luxury baggage. That having (y/n) beg him to come inside her was truly music to his ears, and the feeling of it unparalleled to any other experiences of his life...

That when (y/n) had told him the news, he’d bought every book possible to try to become an expert in an uncertain and terrifying field. That he stayed up late when he couldn’t sleep to read those books…

“Malcolm!” His dads voice cut through the images in his head. Malcolm’s eyes refocused on the task at hand. The reason he was here. “What is going on?” Martin took another step, and his restraints kept him from taking any more towards his son. He almost looked truly concerned.

“(Y/n) is pregnant.” Malcolm spoke each word with slow and clear perfection, making sure there would be no doubt or question in the words spoken. He composed himself, never originally imagining he’d say those words in this room, in this place. He clenched his hands again, gulped, and let the silence settle as he waited and braced for the reaction. Martin let out one, then two short barking laughs, before his face fell into an insane beaming smile, and he clapped his hands as best he could. Malcolm’s face settled to a hard line, eyes focused and jaw clenched tight, trying to not give his father anything to read.

“That’s fantastic news my boy! I don’t even know what I should say! So many possible reactions! But which one to go for? I’d give you a hug and tell you well done but…well, nevermind! The handcuffs make that tricky. Do I cry tears of joy? I’m not sure! I’m sure your mother is reeling over being old enough to be a grandmother! But which reaction? I mean, a new life in the world! That’s exciting business! The family line continues! Should I question your ability to parent considering…”

“That my own dad is a serial killer?” Malcolm’s voice was dry, the words dripping with sarcasm. Who was he to question his potential parenting skills?

“Yes, that. Should I be upset? Get all preachy, “you know condoms are cheap” kinda talk? Use protection! Ah, you’re not kids so what’s the point. I’m sure you can take care of yourselves. What does she do for work anyway? Eh, doesn’t matter. Oh! What about “you’re not even married!” But I suppose that’s antiquated, who’s married these days…”

“Actually we are,” he said casually, arrogance settling in his eyes. It was the first time in a painfully long amount of time he’d been able to leave the Surgeon speechless and surprised. Malcolm’s mouth formed a little smug smile of pride at the achievement. “Courthouse thing, nothing crazy. Mainly for the benefits, healthcare plans, stuff like that. Boring. We didn’t see the point of anything else. Everyone was there….except you…” Martin’s mouth twitched in agitation. Was Malcolm intentionally trying to anger the man? Yes, yes he was, but he shut down the voice in his head telling him to keep going. Oh the things he wanted to say.

Because of you, I can’t sleep beside her, right now when she needs me the most because I could hurt her or the baby…I’m terrified I use sex with her too much as a coping mechanism…I love her more than anything and I’m terrified of hurting her because of you…and I’m petrified of when we can’t be intimate when she’s healing after…and that’s the most selfish thought in the world and I hate myself for it… I’m terrified I’ll throw myself into work to deal with the changes…Because of you, I’m terrified of what will be passed on to this kid…Because of you I’m petrified what sort of dad I’ll be…I’m scared of hurting my own child…You robbed yourself of being a grandfather, and robbed this child of a grandfather and have left it with a legacy that cannot be explained without nightmare!

Yes, the things he wanted to say….

But he never would. It was all silent thoughts that stayed locked in his mind and kept him up at night. It was things he wanted to say to (y/n) but was terrified what she’d say, even though they’d been there for each other in every way up to now.

No. It gave Martin too much power over him, over them. And Malcolm had promised himself he would not let him have any power over his child.

So he bit his tongue till he tasted blood and let the man carry on in his charismatic ramblings.

“I’m sure I’m the last to know about this too? Yes, of course, rightfully so, I supposed I deserve that. And that jab about a wedding, I will admit that hurt just a little. I could have sent a gift! That’s a lie I couldn’t have done that. But at least a note, that would have been nice to send. But another Whitly is exciting! Another daughter.” Malcolm’s heart rate spiked and the rage that fueled him was a fire he had to put out to maintain control. Always fighting for control.. To Malcolm, she wasn’t a Whitly. (Y/n) would never be a Whitley. She was a Bright.

Martin maintained his smile, pushing every button he could “But I do appreciate you telling me, truly I do.” Malcolm remained silent, letting the man get it all out of his system. The sooner he did, the sooner he could leave. “Well then, since I’m the last to know, has enough time passed to know the big answer…a boy? A girl?” Malcolm debated, closing his eyes and seeing the last sonogram in his mind’s eye, where the nurses had written “Hi, daddy,” on it and for a while he’d been unable to look at it. More so the words than the actual blurry image. He had been horrified imagining holding that title.

But now whenever he felt unnatural terror settling over him, that image of blurry lines and those words had been on the inside of his eyelids and they had a new healing power.

Blurry lines attached to a heartbeat that he listened to almost every night through a stethoscope. A heartbeat that made up something sweet and precious…and unbroken.

Blurry lines attached to the photo in the evidence folder in his hands. Another deep breath…

“A girl.” Malcolm finally said, firming his stance. He would give him the gender, and nothing more. Never her name, which had been decided on, which even now filled every crevice of his mind and heart. To Malcolm, her name was sacred and something he’d never let his father know. Martin smiled ever so slightly at the small look of pride his son was trying to conceal from him. The boy may be frightened of fatherhood, frightened of his past and who he was. And oh he aught to be! But there was pride in Malcolm already for his child. It left Martin smiling brighter.

“Ahhh a girl! How wonderful. Of course you must be thrilled. A girl must be a source of relief!” Malcolm held his ground and stared right back at his father, like two alphas fighting for control. And he would not be afraid. “Oh a boy could look like me, look like you! Then oh, the legacy continues! What a horrible thing it would be for you, to watch my face, or your face, grow up in your care…But a girl! A girl is just different enough to seem to break the cycle doesn’t it? It may even help you in your parenting! You wouldn’t look at her and see my face. She’ll hopefully look like (y/n). That’s what you’re hoping for, isn’t it? What a joy for you, dear boy…” His smile was the stuff of nightmares, his words made to push his son to the brink of mental collapse, to push him into crisis and into his grasp. To anger him, to frighten him, to damage him, and keep him coming back, trapping him in his thrall. If Malcolm was damaged, he’d keep coming back. And it’s all he wanted. He wanted him to come back, and he wanted to meet his granddaughter. “Who knows, you might need my help! Maybe you’ll be just like me…or maybe she will be…”

Malcolm’s ears were ringing and he wanted to shut out his father’s voice.

Run,

his body said.

Run.

But if he ran now, the nightmares would continue. For just a moment, he remembered what his father had said once,

“Love didn’t drive me to kill anyone. No, it drove me to have you.”

No, it drove me to have you.

If he ever did tell his daughter about Martin Whitley, he’d tell her that sentence, he decided. Because if it was the truth, then it was the same reason he had her. For now, Malcolm just shook his head. And he pictured (y/n)’s smile, and he pictured her hand holding her swollen belly, and he wanted nothing more than to be by her side. The task was almost done. And he could, at least try, to never step foot into this room again. “It is a joy for me, Dr. Whitley,” finally opened the evidence file, and took out the image of the sonogram. “Hopefully she will look like (y/n). And I’ll be a good father not because of you, but because I know she’ll be a wonderful mother…”

He traced his fingers over the image one last time.

Love drove me to have you.

He had copies at home; on the fridge, in the bathroom, with his mom, with his sister, by his pills, by their bed, by his memo pad telling him to go to therapy, by Gil’s desk to look at, and one course, one in his wallet. He could separate himself from this one.

As a parting gift. The last gift a prodigal son could give his father. He knocked on the door to be let out by the guards and the buzzer sounded like an alarm in Martin’s ears. He was losing his son to someone else.

“Wait….no, no…Malcolm don’t leave…” But he hurried to the desk to see the sonogram as the door was opened. Martin held the image in his hands. “Malcolm, you can’t leave me…” His voice was shaking, so were his hands as he grasped the only image, he believed he would ever have, of his granddaughter. And he longed to see her, to meet her. Maybe he could say something, do something, send something. He’d meet her. He’d meet (y/n). He had to.

“Goodbye, Dr. Whitly,” Malcolm made sure his wife’s face was the image he saw in front of him, and it gave him the courage to step out that door. He thought of her name, and of their daughter’s and it kept his feet moving.

“You’ll come back my boy, you’ll need me! We’re the same you and I! She’ll be the same! She’ll be the same!” Martin yelled as the son walked away and down the secure hall, the door closing with what felt like a crashing bang in both their heads. For Martin it was an echoing crash that would fester and never stop until the door was opened again. For Malcolm it faded away to a name as he walked down the steps of the psychiatric facility and stepped into the daylight. The name he’d picked. And he thought of (y/n), and that name again and again as he walked home.

Lily. Lily Bright.

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growingpaynes-art · 5 years

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The Lion King 2019 Review: What I Liked, What I Didn’t, and How It Compares to the Original

Non-spoilery overview and note to anyone debating watching this-

If you’re looking for this film to give you something that the original didn’t, you will be disappointed. This is a nearly shot-for-shot exact recreation of the original for most of the movie. There are some minor changes, but no major differences in plot.

However

It’s definitely worth seeing- once on a matinee ticket at the very least- if you enjoyed anything about the original. It’s pretty faithful to the source material and the hyper-realism of the animation really is best viewed on a big screen. The comedy is solid, the changes they made to the story and characters were good decisions, and as a guy that was literally raised on the original movie and grew up loving every part of it, i did legitimately enjoy seeing this remake with my mother (who introduced me to the original when I was very little) and getting to share this story that I loved with my younger sister for the first time.

If all you are here for is the “Let’s Go Lesbians” guy you will be satisfied

Spoilers under the cut

What I Liked:

The visuals of the opening sequence alone are worth the price of admission. They’ve lovingly recreated the iconic intro nearly frame for frame in astounding detail. It really succeeded in taking me back to my three-year old self seeing the original for the first time on my family’s little box tv, captivated by the visuals and score.

Timon and Pumbaa were legitimately funny and are stronger characters than in the original.

They kept the aspects of Scar that made him sinister, conniving, and creepy without stepping into queer-coding territory. They also didn’t apply racial coding to him in the overt way they did in the original.

At first I was disappointed by Rafiki’s lack of a staff in the opening, but I was later pacified by its appearance for the final battle. I would however, have liked to see the “oh yes, the past can hurt” bit between him and Simba, which was absent in this version.

I felt that the introduction of the hyena characters in the elephant graveyard was stronger in this version, but i do wish that the chase scene had gone on for longer. It’s significantly shorter than the original, and the cubs don’t fight back like they did in the original.

The hyenas played a larger role where they had much more agency, and the relationship between them and Scar was on more equal footing. Shenzi was an especially welcome change, presenting a truly chilling presence easily rivaling Scar’s. Florence Kasumba’s performance really stands out. Additionally Eric Andre and Keegan-Michael Key’s hyena characters served as quality comic relief without any jokes straying into possible able-ism.

The ‘pinned-ya’ scenes were re-choreographed to be more like two kids wrestling and didn’t have the awkward sexual implications some people point out in the original.

This version offers a quick explanation as to why Scar is living with the pride despite the typical customs of real lions

The mouths were really animated very well, and were for the most part very expressive. They were a bit hard to track during the songs, but generally words were formed pretty believably in their mouths and expressions such as smiles or grimaces were rendered very clearly without looking foreign on an animal face. This was by far best achieved on Timon and the hyenas, but was decent on the lion cubs, Scar, and most of the minor characters as well. The other adult lions weren’t as expressive, but they’re weren’t terrible either.

The animation of Timon, Pumbaa, and the hyenas continually impressed impressed me throughout the course of the film. They were simultaneously the most consistently realistic looking and the most expressive. I honestly don’t understand why some people are coming for Pumbaa and saying he’s ‘nightmare fuel’, his design was both very friendly looking and accurate to real warthogs. He and Timon seemed to be the favorites of both the kids and adults in my theater.

The short scene where adult Simba gleefully pounces after a pair of butterflies and invites a scared Hartebeest hang out, oblivious to his own status as a carnivore, was pretty adorable.

Timon and Pumbaa were more or less confirmed to be a gay couple, and are shown with their own piglet during the ending sequence. This isn’t lingered on for longer than necessary, just long enough for you to appreciate how adorable the little striped piglet is, and thus it comes off as more genuine than performative allyship (it’s definitely better than Beauty and the Beast’s “exclusively gay moment” or Endgame’s Gay Joe Russo). It also helps that Timon isn’t being portrayed by a straight guy leaning as hard into the camp gay stereotype as possible. It was a moment that I, as a queer person, actually enjoyed.

What I Didn’t:

I felt that the musical score wasn’t as strong as the original. I wanted that first note over the sunrise to shake the theater, to bang across the screen in brilliant gold, and when it didn’t, I was disappointed. I felt this way regarding the score and soundtrack for much of the film.

While much of the dialogue matched the original nearly word for word, the delivery of most of it was much more subdued. I understand that they were going for a grittier tone that was less cartoon-y, but a lot of Scar and adult Simba’s lines seemed like they were mumbled off at the end of a work day and they’d just given up on trying to get a better take. Donald Glover seemed to teeter between Marshall Lee and complete disinterest a lot of the time.

I would have liked to have seen more of Rafiki than what we got, and I’d been hoping for an expansion on his role from the original rather than a reduction.

The “I killed Mufasa” bit was done very well- Chiwetel Ejiofor’s delivery of the line was chilling (although not as much as Jeremy Irons’), the expression in Scar’s eyes was very sinister, the light of the fire hit him just right. The following revelation of this truth to the lionesses however was bumbly, and seemed like it was originally written to be longer but was quickly and awkwardly condensed. It really didn’t flow as well as the original.

The end battle between Scar and Simba was anti-climactic. The choreography and visuals were much more creative and suspenseful in the original. The blows didn’t really have much weight or ferocity to them, and they didn’t coincide as well with the score. There also was no sick kick move, Scar literally just accidentally rolls off the cliff. The showdown between Nala and Shenzi is far better- it’s vicious and animalistic, with a few shots having them silhouetted with fire roaring behind them, Nala’s massive teeth shown off impressively in profile.

From the very first introduction of Scar, it’s strongly and very overtly implied that Sarabi is the one that gave him the scar after he attempted to advance on her despite her rejecting him. This is revisited again when he commands Sarabi to be his queen upon his assuming of the throne. She again rejects him. With this moment being played twice, I expected this to be a plant for a later third scene of Sarabi temporarily putting Scar back in his place, or at least threatening to take his other eye, to replace the scene from the original where he slaps her across the face. Scar and Sarabi do eventually come to blows as Simba and Nala return to Pride Rock, but it’s very brief and sort of just a clumsy grapple without a clear winner, and with no reference to their apparent backstory. This comes off as a case of planting without payoff. I expect that either a scene such as the one i described was originally planned and cut for time, or it was thought that the implications of such a scene might bring the film up towards a PG-13 rating.

I wish that in the more harrowing sequences, such as the elephant graveyard chase and the stampede scene, that we could see some real fear on the character’s faces. There’s some really good tensing of the body and some bared teeth, but there’s not much in the eyes. I feel the emotion would have been communicated better if the pupils were dilated, if the eyes were darting back and forth with the whites showing at the edges occasionally, the ears flattened down hard against the head.The child actors put forward some really believable fear and sadness through their voices, but the faces just didn’t quite match it. I do however understand that this is a kid’s film, and that showing a hyper-realistic lion cub gripped with sheer terror or coming to the understanding of the gravity of death is probably too much for most young kids. I personally just prefer to have truly heartwrenching, impactful, and emotional scenes in the media I consume, and I often walk away unfulfilled in this respect (although, i admit i am very difficult to please in this area- i’ve been a die-hard mcu fan for the better part of a decade and i left my first watch of infinity war almost completely unaffected.)

Continuing from the last point- The eyes on most of the characters were very static. They rarely blinked, only really looked straight ahead and lacked any range of expression beyond neutral and slightly squinted. The expression of emotion could have been greatly facilitated by the use of the brow muscles, dilating and contracting of the pupils, more squinting and widening, some side-eye or eye-rolling, etc. Even using some more body language would have made a world of difference (for example- an excited cub wriggling with excitement, his paws shifting and his little butt scooting in the sand because he just can’t contain himself, his shoulders shaking with high-pitched giggles) Emotion was delivered quite well through the mouths, but almost not at all through the eyes. This made the scene where Simba discovers his dead father especially awkward looking. JD McCrary delivers some heartbreaking cries and a few tear-choked lines, and the little cub body shakes and cowers, but Simba’s cgi face retains a completely neutral expression. Its a very cute, and perfectly realistic face for a lion cub, but it’s a face that feels inappropriate for this context. Adult Simba and Nala are the worst offenders in this respect. Simba looks almost like a plush doll, almost never changing expression at all. Nala looks superbly hyper-realistic, but... too realistic. She’s as perfect of a cgi lioness model you could possibly ask for, but because of this, there’s no intelligence in her eyes for some of the shots. It’s strange and distracting to hear a human voice come out as her mouth moves realistically while the eyes retain a vacant animal stare. This is really weird to me as there are multiple moments in the film where they absolutely nail the eyes- the sequence where Simba chases Rafiki through the dense jungle, several shots of Nala sneaking away from Pride Rock by moonlight, the close-up of Scar as he reveals to Simba that he killed Mufasa. The commonality between these shots seems to be strong directional lighting, where light from the moon or a fire can catch the irises and make the expression in them really pop. Closeups of Mufasa’s face showed that they had unprecedented control of the facial muscles- they moved with intricate complexity under the skin and fur- and yet the eyes were blank. It’s disappointing that they clearly had the capability to get the eyes right and apparently just didn’t allow the cg artists enough time to apply this consistently.

The slow motion zoom away from Simba’s face as he watches his father fall from the cliff face is admittedly ridiculous looking in cgi. This “long live the king” doesn’t come anywhere close to the original. Mufasa’s climb up the cliff is pretty good, but the fall feels flat and unemotional.

The sequence tracking the wad of Simba’s hair went on for too long.

The story seemed much faster paced than the original, and each scene seemed to be too short, leaving me wanting more. Some of the scenes feel awkwardly chopped or condensed, and some of the dialogue is a bit bumbly. This movie kinda relies on you being very familiar with the original.

#lion king #the lion king #lion king spoilers #lion king review #review

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throwinggrapesoffthebalcony · 4 years

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preface to LAVENDER SOAP

You can feel apocalyptic in a number of ways, even while living in peaceful times. But what many times looks like peace, isn’t. And so a piece may arise during our own suppressed apocalypse. That was the case with Lavender Soap and my life in 1996. Very few places have had the energy to influence me as a writer, to feed into my tendencies, and even fewer places that could provide a sense of peace, that I was only ever able find in the water; buoyant saline, under the warmth of the ray’s of the sun. Even in storm, or the dead of winter, it was a tranquility, a sanctuary, that I could never find on land. Depending on your life, it’s a beautiful separation.

The epoch and the hotel was very different then, it was at peace tucked into the trees. It wasn’t decimated by this new cheap world yet. The perfect air was still influxed with the smell of foliage and perfume and of old materials, plaster ruined and repaired a thousand times, regrouted with the tiles left intact, the aging glue of wallpaper is sweet. Decor should be timeless during our lives. Life is so short after all. It was a hotel imbued with and not completely claimed by the past yet, with the past, absorbed into the walls and woodwork and tapestries. The faint voices, rapes, murders, sufferings, and suicides of a more glamorous past, saved like metal oxide on tape in the walls; played when the atmosphere is right. The first element that effects me are women I’ve been involved with sexually and their particular fashion and our conversations, the other is the inspiration of architecture; this necessity to remove and protect ourselves from the elements of nature. And the third being that wild energy of nature itself, weather, thermal dynamics, etc. I’ll save the commentary about the energy arising from the earth and surroundings for the preface for SSHS, which was more influenced by the raw energy of a geographic location and life’s tragedies than it was about architecture. And writing that piece was never about silence for me, while Lavender Soap was born, not in the clash of an apocalyptic scene, but in the very opposite, in the midst of the most pleasurable quiet, not an absolute silence, but a perfect quiet. The sound of air moving through trees, the sound of a rotary telephone ringing, faint voices speaking somewhere, the existence of humanness, not intruding on your life, when it doesn’t need to. That was a time when I think everyone had their own scenario, there were bounds, and knew that your scenario wasn’t their scenario; which is called sanity. Perfect separation of lives, we were humans not insects. And because of this, meeting someone was always much more interesting than now. Lavender Soap is, besides being a psychological piece delving into my experiences at the Chateau, it’s also to a great extent a retrospect, and a regression to my childhood. It was in a childhood bedroom that I perfected disassociation, disconnection, and detachment in, out of necessity, for survival. A house of continual violence, week after week, year after year, leaves you with nowhere to go but down. Fantasy and pictures, allowed me to drift off. A calendar out of date, a hopeful month of lavender fields is where all of my loves stood. They never take you up. Sleeping with my weapon of choice, a tapered necked ball peen hammer. And with the faint smell of WD40 and rust the angels never come to save you from the screaming. A movie about war, that’s pretty in a way, is the only way I can remember that film.

In 1996, experience wasn’t found on a cell phone. I was young and if you wanted to feel something or experience something, you had to shower, dress and traverse whatever plane you were on. And from one location to another, so much could happen, and in-between there was discovery, moments. Forget the set pieces, that’s not what this life is made of. This life is made of moments. In my opinion, that curiosity is what the young are absolutely lacking in today’s world, that and not feeling like individuals. There was a conversation that I read, I think around that same time, where a film editor, I think Murch, if not, one of the other prominent film editors, was talking about editing on a Moviola. And because of the linear nature of working with whole strips of 35mm film, he would have to pass through a lot of footage that he hadn’t previously considered, and that he would have, if working in a non-linear manner have never encountered. And there, he would find moments that worked more profoundly than what he was intending to use. And I think that lack of an analog approach in living, has people missing the more profound encounters, the accidental encounters, encounters more enlightening than what they might experience with a premeditated itinerary. But wait, they had an exchange on tender; what a fucking joke. I feel sorry for them. I’ve never fallen in love with this new digital era, a work of spite and bitterness, a reaction to a world that didn’t feel inclusive enough, so it’s become a strategy of slash and burn. And how do you tell someone to fuck off so they truly listen in today’s era? Must it be an apocalypse for the stalkers. Are people always drawn into that state of darkness. And it’s so easy to lose sight of the jungle you’re in, when the modern world disguises the archetypes so well. The weeks become months and the months become years and years become a decade, while I was creating the philosophies of a man facing death, even while undeservedly healthy, and unfairly able to fuck.

Arriving at the hotel in 96’ was serendipitous, or fateful, whether you want to believe that life is steadfast or whimsical. It felt whimsical when I met a couple of cute girls named Hanni and Sunny at Beverly Connection one evening; one lovable, the other the type to want to watch, then try to explain what each of the other really wanted. I jotted down a few impressions I had of them at the time. They told me that they had this special place they wanted to show me. I thought they were full of shit. But one evening they picked me up and took me to the Chateau Marmont. The weather was terrible that night. I was dressed for the woods. It was a quiet place, empty, with an entrance of willow branches hanging dank over the drive. We sat in the living room and even while I tried to concentrate on the conversations we were having, I was only half there, while the other part of me had already wandered off into the hotel, amongst the spirits and whispering lips. Sunny called, with the concern of the other on mind. It was against her religion to have sex before marriage, and she was confused as to whether oral copulation was sex. I gave the wrong and less comforting answer. Of course it is. People go stagnant just as places do. I went looking for Hanni where she worked at Milk and Honey as a hostess. I saw her through the windows, but the place was busy and I didn’t want to get her into any trouble, so I continued on my walk. I didn’t see them much anymore, but I kept going back to the Chateau. It was just as quaint during the afternoon as it was at night. On most nights, it was desolate, like a huge spaceship had hovered over and removed every last trace of guests. This was before they began to monetize the mythos of the place, and run it like a circus. The hallowed courtyard had eyes in 1996, and then in 2006 it had the eyes of a cheap set looking for anything edible. Drug dealers intwined with movie moguls and music producers. When first arriving there, there was peace, and I would explore the floors unimpeded. I felt strangely allowed. One afternoon that week after the two girls had shown me the place, I went and stood on the landing on the shady side of the hotel. I could have stood there for centuries. I thought about a life with her, while still in love with what I couldn’t have. I wasn’t apart from those feelings yet. They choked me up, but I would never cry. I probably set the record for being on the verge of tears, while they dried. The people were more reclusive and weird then. With so many people in those rooms, so few went about. They come out for air. They ask each other, never asking you. Even while asking me, would be the quickest way to find something out. Strange quirks with some of these who reside here. Notes I wouldn’t even have to look back upon to remember. I didn’t know about the inner workings of Hollywood yet, even while I was already pitching ideas, but wrote literature and not scripts. I didn’t know there were those perpetually green-lit, only needing content, and those perpetually in the red light. But on the surface, everything was crystal clear, with my young primo lenses at the time, seeing even the minute texture in anything like glitter in the dust. I suppose speculation has always been a turn on. But the place was an immediate enchantment, and people were actors, so forgiven, and no idiosyncrasies of the fauna would keep me from going back. I loved the place. It gave me a chance to linger in that aesthetic. There were occasions when I’d stay in the living room until dawn, undisturbed, when I could have stayed and ordered breakfast if I’d wanted to. Hollywood and this hotel had already had a long history before I arrived. The materials, the curtains and rugs and upholstery was already soaked to the bone, damp with the secretions of the body, the blood, the saliva and vaginal fluids of the past. In the present, you can smell the distinction of a vagina from a mouth perfectly. But through time, it becomes this amalgamated scent, so fine and subtle that it could be bottled as perfume; an aphrodisiac for the intellect. I want to stay and live here, but it costs a fortune. Check out time is like another death, the woman who spreads the sheets might be the perfect fuck. Dreaming in a bed that saw the golden age. The ghosts of a thousand whores arise. But that was the wet part of the dream. They all say the same thing, they all dance the same way. They all want to stay in this world. This, while everyone claims to live in a higher plane. They want freedom without the label being emblazoned upon them. Today’s perfect. That’s just a desirable label and we all have desires. You wish you could turn them all into someone someone would have loved. On the landing on the shady side of the hotel, the rush of thoughts has me without sight, the sun penetrating my eyes. I wouldn’t even know what a strange thought was then, always in the wine. I went into the shadows falling over me. The strange trees don’t know my past, but it seems that they love me. She was cold, goosebumps on the skin, she never warms. She’s not of this world. But this place is like heaven’s turnkey, and here I can dream, that I’m living a spectacular life. My every thought here like a disco in the dark light. It’s coming up river with the blackness gleaming to take my life. In the past one only had to return to civilization. Now, there is no civilization to return to. Modern society is like a plague that has no brains. That dies out, not by heat or cold or is prevented by the razor wire of another man’s desires for peace of mind. Death is the only peace. Just as I was told of my literary pursuits, that all the hours were wasted, and to think about the fact, that all those I admired in that craft, are all dead, and so was the craft. I was sitting at a drive-in theatre. Hail memory. Prefaces are life, when a form of death has already occurred.

On the subject of soap balls, they were always perplexing. My grandmother, a strange woman, born in New Braunfels, Tx, who never opened her presents, wouldn’t let me wash my hands with them. They were decorations, to be dusted and sniffed for their essence. One lathered by mistake and placed back into the bunch looked funny, and you wondered if she’d notice. They looked like dull gum-balls in a decorative bowl, and I’d acquired a taste for soap, or at least I wasn’t as disgusted as they’d wanted me to be. You can frustrate the hell out of a nun that way, by loving it, and asking her for more. But I was curious as to whether they were different flavors. I couldn’t tell; perhaps because sometimes smell and taste are inseparable. Perhaps their mystery lays in their not being of a practical shape, and round always tends to represent the erotic, like ovaries, representing the female anatomy. But there’s also a aspect in the work that I didn’t consciously think about until after writing the piece. And that was that in the victorian era, in the psychological journals, they often considered masturbation an attempt at suicide, or a suppressed death wish. And even while much of what they believed in then is laughable, maybe the act of masturbating with lavender soap was my fragrant wish to kill myself. I don’t know if I’m trying to cum or kill myself in the present either. My theory is that it keeps me from being desperate and at the mercy of women, when they aren’t readily available to me.

Dark blue was a piece I was more in love with writing, a story about a woman who’d committed a sin, that caused me to become an exile to femininity. When you can no longer trust women, there’s no longer a church to visit, there’s no safe place to hide. Dark Blue wasn’t as spontaneous as Lavender Soap, it was more evolved, I wanted to think carefully about it, I wanted some past world to be impressed. I wanted to stay immersed in a calm exile. Those who could even judge literature, now were few and far between. And because Dark Blue was also set at the Chateau, it was slowly being devoured by this more delirious work. It was like one stage of my life devouring another. And I wasn’t even in that careful mood to make a copy of it before I began cutting it up, and making fodder of it for a pop piece. I’ll probably extract Dark Blue from Lavender Soup and make it the subtle, psychological piece I’d wanted it to be; another conversation piece, the finite texture of dark blue polyester, a comfortable face and beautiful thighs, and a line, ‘I can’t believe you’d ever do this to me.’ You never expect a woman to be a criminal. It’s subtly frightening. You take the time to stare more deeply into the mystery of a pair of eyes. And when you can no longer believe in the feminine, when that door too, says deception, when it says enter at your own risk, it leaves you with no sanctuary at all in this world.

Lavender Soap was a chance to dwell on audiophilia and woodworking, even though much of the elaborations ended up on the cutting room floor, when it began to feel like This Old House. I think in every field, there’s an equilibrium with our humanness. And I think that wood and glass and analog technology was something that we can never rise above. There was no dissonance between it and the human body. We evolve technology, but the whole while we’re devolving. Like an individual, as a society, we cannot admit to wandering onto the wrong path, out onto a branch that leads to our demise, and while looking back at our past selves in arrogance, at our own expense. They’re already like zombies, and I think 5G will finish them off. Lithium, lithium, lithium. War, an OLED screen, and a sickening.

There was that first period of time exploring the Chateau when LA was magical, then I moved to D.C. and New York for a number of years. And as I did, many of the stories I’d started in my notebooks about or taking place in that setting were put on the back burner, while I was experiencing more of the in between and writing what I considered more significant novels. I’d visit Los Angeles on occasion, and the first place I’d want to get to was Venice, then after that, the Chateau Marmont. There were no marriage vows on the east coast, so I moved back to Los Angeles around 2006. I’d seen the Chateau become a less mysterious and more clamorous place during my visits but that was confirmed when I started going there frequently again. The magic was gone, for sure. And that magic was peace and quiet. Literature was becoming a dead beast, that had no place in this frivolous nature. I myself was disenchanted. I met a girl named Emma while I was living up Larrabee. I thought, maybe. And for the record, it was unfair to her that I quickly had such high expectations. I wanted a family. She said I was too smart for my own good and proceeded to eat my heart out. But I admit, I had her on the most perfect day of her life. No one will remember her so fondly. And so, at this breaking point of my life, I’d gone to a bicycle shop down Robertson and bought a chrome Bianchi Pista, trying to remain relevant and alive. I belonged in nature with a risk to life and limb; this was a crazy city now, homogenized, ceaseless, hungry. It was a point in my life when I had to seriously contemplate a return, a return home, or to academics, even while I despised its limitations, and had already fallen in love with studying outside of those restraints. I needed to give hard thought to returning to create some stability for myself, a life of normalcy, even if in some nowhere place. I already knew I’d been on a blacklist for some time by then, and well aware of the futility of trying to make it, while there are those determined to keep you down. But I kept writing, even without those motivations. And so I was riding around with that last chance to return on my mind, like always being conscious of death. The new technology had everyone riddled with something more invasive than neutrinos that just pass through everything. I was trying to shake off the stogy thoughts of literature and avoid the lack of patience that had infected everyone. And disappointment only aggravates your pride. You want to prove something, so you slip even in the bright sunlight, further into the heart of darkness. I’d try to ride through it, and write through it; the dystopian nightmare that everyone had feared would come, if they had their way, and they had their way. Without an exit strategy, the delusional self-induced Berkeley type archetypal bitch, had a plan. The illusion of an alternate world onto the real world. It had me dreaming of a landslide or a flood or a ball of fire heading right for us more than ever at the time. The freeze of disappointment settles on the brain. The billiard balls cease to scatter with infinite possibilities. You have to begin to look for your moments, then get the hell out before they burn down around you. But I would ride and when moving at the right speed, I could still say, that it was the place I first fell in love with. I played dead riding with no hands. I brought my old notepads out and began burning into Lavender Soap on a silver airbook. And again I’ll save this subject matter of writing tools and how they effect the process, for SSHS; the pen as opposed to a laptop, as opposed to a typewriter, etc. etc.

Why my father or anyone else for that matter was so miserable is about a past we cannot know. My father lived a life before I was ever born, I can’t judge him. It’s just the sight of an underwater knife and old scuba gear; everyone dives and that’s their life and no one else’s. And despite the terror in the household, he made an effort to educate me. He was a musician, so I was dragged around to Jazz festivals, which I always found fascinating, even while never being my favorite genre of music. More importantly, he loved film, and would take me to see first rate films while I was still at an impressionable age. It was Texas at a very different time. I don’t think he would in today’s world ever be able to sneak me, as a child into movies like The Godfather, The Deer Hunter, or Apocalypse Now. At least without being escorted by the police past the ‘no such thing as gender’ restroom doors, which the icon of the beast and word androgyny. Apocalypse Now is still my desert island movie, it was like candy to a child’s mind. I leave it in the DVD player for months at a time playing on a loop. It’s a movie I never tire of watching. I love when someone hates what I love, so maybe it’s a way to turn the stalkers off. Let them dwell in what will break them. It’s based on a book called Heart of Darkness, which is also one of my favorite works. It’s about the primordial model that we can’t get away from. We can build empires, then die over the wrong look. And when you’re a child, you see everything so differently, your eyes move to different parts of the screen, you take a different path through the film. You may not understand the poetry yet, or the subtext, or every word uttered, but you see another layer of beauty, that an adult might miss. And so your memory of certain elements are vivid. What’s written on a helicopter as it lands, ‘death from above’, and lavender smoke in the air making the ravages of life so pretty; like makeup on the whorish face of humankind. Then all the years have gone and it becomes like a masterpiece of background noise to a life in the continued, but post modernistic bloodbath of tribal animosities and nepotistic tendencies. The Heart of Darkness was a perfect model, because it’s the only model that makes any sense. We will die of a spear in the modern world. That dark model dwells in the modern city, and she’ll fuck us when she wants to. The end is always a bright pink clit coming down with bitterness and animosity. I can’t wait.

When I first arrived in Los Angeles, we were consumed by the talk of lenses and cinema and the craft of filmmaking, when the craft was religion, and not political correctness. We knew our lenses. How’s political correctness done as an industry?, you may ask. Fairly well it seems. The advertisers don’t give a fuck what they’re selling or what Greco Roman history they’re destroying. They’re mercenaries. They’ve not replaced civilization with anything that will last. But now, nothing’s supposed to; not even history. Once again we can’t escape the analog nature of ourselves and how other methods aren’t as conducive for the flesh or for externalizing our fascinations for the world to see. Our inability to get away from that period will see us shrinking as human beings. We won’t be strong enough to fight off the virus. Analog is more evolved than digital, and I call this the ‘prism effect’; if you’ve ever seen a prism penetrated by sunlight, and how it separates white light into a spectrum of colors, it’s a beautiful sight. Now imagine the energy it takes and the technology to do what the prism does so simply, and without the need for batteries. We’re trying to digitize and synthesize nature until it resembles nature again, or sounds analog again, or feels like flesh again. Why? So someone can shut it off when they’ve lost control. The digital age has allowed a bunch of really strange and ‘awkweird’ people to rule over earth; and as it’s turned out they’re not immune to the thirst for war and destruction or terror. They just like to fuck things up from a distance, and don’t believe in repercussion. But someone at a pseudo think tank can cost so much life then walk to Starbucks to get a cup of coffee. We’re all vulnerable to nature.

We can try to escape to places like Topanga or Malibu, but they want to stay connected. They don’t want the natural world to take place, even with all the natural beauty that still exists. Off the grid, makes them nervous, they’re so used to spying on everyone’s every move. It’s become their addiction, their lithium. I’m not your lithium. And it was during a time I was trying to escape, living out old Topanga road that something that might be considered trivial happened, but that in my mind was like some completion to an era of my life, like some forgiveness to put that part of my existence to rest. It was an afternoon that my girlfriend at the time and I made a stop at PC Greens along the Pacific Coast Highway, headed for a beach higher up. She waited for me while I ran in to buy a few things. And there, roaming around the store, was Martin Sheen. An old man now, but with the same face and voice. I looked into eyes I felt I knew well. I’m never one to bother actors, I know they fight for their private lives as well. But when heading for the checkout he came towards me like an old friend, and he was in a sense. And like perfection, what was playing and what was he singing to me? ‘The answer my friend is blowing in the wind.’ And he sang it as if disappointed, but as if there were time. We can’t know each other’s lives, but it was a beautiful sentiment. I went back out into the sun, elated, as if spared. Interesting. The wind took us up. We could have dissolved at that point with the waves breaking over us. Never complete, never finished.

And now, on another now. I leave the menu screen on flickering for hours, with the droning sound of the helicopter over fiery palms sweeping across my life, before I can bring myself to hit ‘play film’ again.

-Alan Augustine

Los Angeles, 2020

#chateau marmont

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villain-imagines · 5 years

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Smut Alphabet -- Eobard Thawne

NSFW Alphabet // Eobard Thawne

(Legends//Mattobard)

Well, as a present to you all, here you go!

This is looooooong, but let me know if you guys want an Eowells one at some point.

NSFW under the cut

A=Aftercare - What they do/act like after sex.

This really depends on the context and type of sex, as well as partner preference. If his partner has a clear preference in post-sex cuddles or other favorite go-to’s, he’s very willing to accommodate.

On his own, he’s not often one to be super overt about affection, especially if he’s really realizing he has significant feelings towards someone. He’d never admit it, but it brings out a sort of vulnerability that terrifies him. Yet, over time and as he grows more comfortable with his partner, he’s much quicker to pull you close and contentedly let his hands wander over your hair and body, whispering sweet words against your skin.

If it’s a rough quickie he may not dote, but he would show his affections in a quieter way. Something like a deep kiss and redressing you at lightning speed, pulling you close with the twinge of a smile on his face as his hands gently smoothe over your hair.

If you two had to hurry back to the group, you’re discrete about it. However, he does holds you tighter to him afterward. When you two walk, he’s practically glued to you, his hands on you, body always pressed against you in some way.

B=Bondage - Are they into BDSM, and how far they’ll go if they have a green light.

That’s a big yes for him. Even more vanilla sex with him still has something of an edge of kink. He practically gets off on any control alone. Add an actual sexual element and he’s very into it. He has quite an imagination, and a filthy mind.

With the green light, he’ll have quite a bit of fun trying different things with you. He loves seeing you restrained, handcuffed, or tied in any way, and will absolutely make you beg for everything he gives you. Call him Daddy, Sir, or Master and prepare yourself to be very well taken care of.

C=Cum -

Prefers to come inside of you, but he also enjoys seeing you covered in it. One favorite he has is coming down your throat while his hand rests on the back of your head, making sure you catch every last drop of him

D=Dom - Are they dominant, submissive, a switch?

Very dominant.

This isn’t to say that he minds the occasional switch-up every now and then. (and though he’d never admit it, he absolutely used to fantasize about being dominated by the Flash)

That being said, even with any changes of pace, his default is very much dominant.

E=Edgeplay - Similar to ‘Kinks’ except it’s a lot riskier than usual kinks (knifeplay, breathplay, etc.).

Let’s say, Eo is a bit of a boundary pusher. If something is an expressed no-go, he won’t push it, but with the go-ahead, he’s certainly willing to try a lot of things.

He has a bit of a sadistic streak, so it may get him going if you have any slight masochistic tendencies, but ultimately loves to see you satisfied and wanting him more than anything.

He’s too proud to admit it, but he wouldn’t mind being edged. Also, he equally enjoys when you’re a bit rough with him.

In the right context, he’d try knifeplay.

If you ask him to choke you, he’ll oblige with a frankly unsettling eagerness, but will never have you doubting for your own safety. He likes seeing you squirm and beg for him, but he’d never hurt his precious kitten.

F=Fantasy - A fantasy of theirs (ex: a teacher/student fantasy).

Absolutely has a Professor kink and student/teacher fantasy

Anything involving you tied to things and in various places

G=Got Caught - How they react when they get caught having sex.

Too into it, less in an exhibitionist way, but more in a show-off way. He wants others to know who you’re with and that you’re off limits. It wouldn’t last long though, if at all with his superspeed. He’s more content to let the two of you be overheard than seen.

H=Hot Spots - A place that drives them crazy when stimulated

Kiss down his torso and linger on his lower abdomen and you’ll notice the rapid rise and fall of his chest and maybe a gasp if you tease across it with your lips before going down on him.

He’ll melt under any kiss to his neck or collarbone. The softer it is, the more likely you might get an involuntary shiver from him. Running your hands through his hair and tracing your fingertips across the back of his neck will elicit a similar effect.

I=Intimacy - How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex.

Getting there is the hard part. Once you reach a point of intimacy with him, he has a surprising romantic streak. He is very observant about what you like and prefer, and wants you to want him more than anything, so expect to be thoroughly wooed when he’s in that mood.

J=Journey - Their ideal way of leading up to sex

This man is a tease, and can be quite patient, but not as patient as he thinks himself to be. He will plan a drawn out teasing process, but if you tease him, you better believe the two of you will be zoomed away to a private place in a heartbeat.

K=Kinks -

Kinky boi

Being dominant in any capacity.

(But also lowkey being dominated in the right setting)

Just generally gets off on power dynamics of any kind. Again, call him Daddy, professor, Master, Sir, or take your pick because either way you’re going to be sore later.

Light choking kink

Lowkey worship kink

Restraints in any way (handcuffs, ropes, gags, collars, chains, this boy is kink)

L=Location - Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.

Preferably quitter places, but also anywhere.

He’s into fucking in a lot of questionable locations, with the possibility of being caught. (but without the real possibility, given his speed.)

M=Masturbation - How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to.

When you caught his attention early on, he found himself needing to and it was frustrated and quick. The same goes for when you two are apart, but he’s not opposed to phone sex. Most of the time this can be avoided, considering he can usually speed to wherever you are.

N=NO - A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do.

Not into anything involving urethral play or any other cock bondage devices

Not into super hardcore humiliation for himself or his s/o (with the exception of the Flash)

O=On’s - Their top turn on’s that they have (things that’ll get them super horny super quickly).

Calling him Daddy or any other preferred title in public, just soft enough for him to hear.

Teasing or pushing his boundaries while out and about (cheeky comments, verbal jabs, witty remarks in general)

Begging—literally you can extort the hell out of this and he even knows it. He gets a sort of high from listening to you beg, but on the flip side of this, if you beg for something he gets just as much satisfaction out of giving it to you as hearing it. He’d give you anything, literally anything.

Subtle habits you have that he picks up on when you’re completely oblivious to his watchful gaze. (running hands through your hair, biting your lips, smiling softly at something you read, ect.) Usually, not overtly sexual in nature, but once you notice and meet his eye, something switches in him and he feels the sudden need to pull you close into a heated kiss.

Ego, complement him and he’ll be horny without a doubt.

P=Position - Their favourite position to have sex in.

He loves having you bent over something, or on all-fours as he takes you from behind. He loves the power it gives him and how easy it is to yank your head back by the hair and drape his body over yours, whispering filthy words into the skin of your neck.

However, he equally loves being face to face, pinned to the mattress beneath him, making you meet his eyes as you writhe, begging and breathless in pleasure. He loves the closeness and intimacy it allows, while also allowing for the versatility to be as rough or gentle as he chooses.

Perhaps his favorite is gripping your hair and tilting your head back so you look back at him as he fucks you from behind, your hands gripping the sheets in front of you as he pulls your hips back to meet his. Add a couple of his fingers in your mouth, or a slight grip around your throat, and his composure won’t last very long.

Q=Quickie - Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.

He is obviously very good at quickies, but he likes to really take his time with you if time and situation allows for it.

Yet, he seems to always be ready to fuck in the more time sensitive scenarios. He’s equally content zooming you behind the nearest corner and fucking you hard against the wall, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans as he whispers sweet filth into your ear.

He gently reminds you that ‘you wouldn’t want to be overheard now, would you?’

And he whispers praise of how ‘you’re being so good for him,’ as you try to stay quiet, pulling your legs wrapped around him to pull him closer.

R=Rough - How rough they are, or get, when in bed.

Rough boi

He generally loves being rough, but he can have his moments of both. He’ll certainly cater to whatever your preference generally is, but as a baseline of measurement, his gentle may still be a bit rougher than what would count as normal.

He wouldn’t be rougher without your consent, but with that he’d love to do whatever kink that would fulfil something for you, especially if it puts him in a position of control.

He’ll spank you, pull your hair, scratch, leave marks, bite, press you into the mattress beneath him, wrap his hand around your throat, and generally play rough, but he’s very observant to your reactions and controlled with anything that might be more dangerous.

S=Stamina - How long they can go before they tap out.

Too long.

Even when he’s pent-up and comes too quickly, he hardly has a long enough refractory period for you to even fully register him being hard again. He’s up for as many rounds as you are.

T=Toys -

Not super necessary, considering he’s practically a human vibrator.

U=Unfair - How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.

Asshole supreme. Don’t expect sex without at least some begging first.

He’ll tease quite a bit, given how much he loves seeing you swirm, but maybe not as often as you might think. He can be quite a tease and seductive, but if he feels that you’ve been teasing him, his patience won’t last long. (Eowells, is a bit more patient compared to early Eobard)

V=Volume - How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.

Quiet grunts, moans into your ears and skin, just soft enough to hear, filthy whispers about whatever you two are doing/ what he’d like to do. He’s eager to share a little glimpse into his filthy mind. Sometimes he comes with a louder moan, but more often if you two had a long night of foreplay.

W=Wild Card - a random letter for the character of your choice.

Affection— he’s a tough man to crack when it comes to emotional walls. He isn’t likely to have some emotional overt heart to heart with you, but he thrives on your affectionate touch. In his time, there was never much emphasis in his past on affection or any real human connection, even from his family. He is aware of his own tendency to become obsessive and approach a desire for human connection in a less than healthy way. He can’t help but become a bit breathless when you reach for him and pull him into hug, hold his hand, or place a gentle kiss on his lips or jaw, all of your own accord. For all his rationality, he can’t quite figure out how he got so lucky.

As big as his ego is, deep down, it’s a relief to him when you lean closer into his touch. He holds you close and absorbs every bit of affection you offer to him. He’s glad he did not need to show his less savory side to keep your attentions. Beneath the surface he’s very needy, and very protective.

X=X-Ray - How they look with their clothes off.

Definitely larger than average and well endowed. Neatly groomed with a light tuft of hair on his chest and a light happy trail.

Y=Yearning - How often they need to have sex.

He generally isn’t someone who feels sexual urges too often without a focus of interest. And he can usually shut out any sexual urges if he needs to accomplish a task.

But also his patterns of urges tend to change if he has a focal point of interest. Ordinarily, he didn’t waste much time with it, but with having you so close, quite often.

Z=ZZZ –

He’s not a quick sleeper, and even when he does, he requires fewer hours of it. So, expect him to silently plot and stroke your hair as he keeps you pressed against him. He’ll either curl around you, or have you curled against him, with your head on his chest and your arm around his middle.

#eobard thawne #villain imagines #eobard thawne imagine #eobard thawne x reader #reverse flash #dc imagines #the flash #the flash imagines #eobard thawne imagines #reader imagines #alphabet prompts

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erasethedarkness · 5 years

Note

Could I get a hc/scenario where present mic has a gf, going through a depressive episode, calling herself a burden/useless etc?

Hello, Hizashi’s Hurtin’ Anon! I’m sorry I took so long with responding to this request. I hope you’ve been well, and if you’ve been going through your own depressive episode, that help has been at your side. It’s been a while since you submitted this, so my hope is (if you were feeling depressed before) that you’re feeling better now, and that this scenario helps with making things just a bit kinder and brighter.

Reader: Female

Scenario: Every Friday, Present Mic stops by your place to spend time with you. It’s simply one of the view rituals you could count on in your relationship. This Friday, he found a complete dark home and was drawn to the bathroom by the sound of running water and a song, where he found you sitting in the shower, sobbing.

Words: 1401

Song Inspiration: Crash and Burn - Savage Garden

If you need to fall apart, I can mend a broken heart…

Was there anything better than a Friday afternoon for a teacher? Present Mic always looked forward to it because it marked the end of the work week for one of his jobs- but more importantly, it was the beginning of your time together. Every Friday, he would stop by your place after finishing up at U.A., no matter how many times he saw or missed you during the week. This was the one constant you two kept during your relationship, and it was the brightest part of the week, especially when you two were unable to see each other.

By now, he just started letting himself into your apartment. You knew to expect him around this time; it was like clockwork after all. As soon as he was allowed to leave the campus, he was on his way to you. Sometimes he’d take an extra five minutes to pick up flowers or something small but dear, and other times he’d rush just to have an extra five minutes with you. Today, he wanted as much time with you as possible. He missed you, and somehow, it felt like more than usual.

When he let himself into your place, he stopped in his tracks, his smile falling to a confused expression. The rooms were completely dark. You even went through the extra effort of drawing the blackout curtains together, and closing the blinds. He heard the shower running, and the soft, melancholy lullaby of The Swan by Saint-Saëns, a chill jolting down his spine as worry prompted him to close the door and approach the bathroom. The running water and gentle music suggested someone was in there, but he couldn’t make out a single light or any other sign. This was so very unlike you that he was genuinely concerned that something happened. Did a villain break in? Were you alive? His worried heart pounded fiercely.

“(Y/N)?” Yamada called out gently, knocking on the door. He waited, holding his breath in his chest, hoping to hear your voice. His hand came to the door handle and he turned it, surprised that it was unlocked. When no response came, he took a deep, shaky breath. “(Y/N), I’m coming in.”

To his surprise, he found a single candle lit on the sink, your phone face down next to it with the piano accompanied cello piece on repeat. Just barely, he was able to make out your silhouette as you sat in the shower with your knees hugged to your chest. It looked like your head was resting on them, either bowed or looking to the side- he couldn’t tell. But what he could tell was that you were crying, despite trying to use the sound of the shower and song to mask it.

“Hey, lover… What’s wrong?” His voice was incredibly gentle as he stepped to the bathtub, sitting down with his back against the wall and leg pressed against the ceramic basin, the curtain still pulled between you two.

“Hizashi…”

Hearing your voice, he sighed silently in relief, though the tension in his body didn’t unwind at all. The amount of devastation in your voice was insurmountable and agonized him in ways he could never explain to someone who had never been in love.

“I’m here, (Y/N). Like always, y’know?” He pulled off his fingerless gloves and took off his jacket, slipping his hand beyond the curtain and offering it to you. When you didn’t take it, he sighed and gently stroked your shin with his knuckles, trying to reach through to you. “I’m always here for you, babe…”

You sniffled and choked on a sob as you felt his caress, water beating down on you as if they were the words tearing you apart in your head. Your shaky hand came down from your knee and took his, holding it tightly as your body trembled. He squeezed back, loosening up just to squeeze again, setting a steady and calm rhythm to help ground you. Only your sniffling and gasping accompanied the perfectly tuned strings, the cello, piano, and water coming together in their own symphony as words failed you. Ever patient, Yamada sat with you in the bathroom, letting you take as much time as you needed to come around to him. No matter what, he trusted you to come back, even from the darkest parts of your head and heart.

“Hizashi… I’m so sorry…” The words came slowly and through gasps that showed just how hard you were sobbing.

“Why are you sorry, hon…?” He gave your hand another squeeze, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“I’m sorry I’m so-…” you choked up on the words, finding them harder to say to him than to yourself. “I’m so…”

“Wonderful?” he filled in, knowing that wasn’t where you were going, but where he wanted to take you instead. “Fantastic? Oh- you’re so lovely!”

“No… No, I’m not!” you cried out, letting go of his hand and clutching your head as water cascaded down your face, overtaking your tears. “I’m worthless!” Once you said it, it felt impossible to stop. “I’m a complete waste of space, Hizashi. I don’t deserve you. You don’t- you don’t need such a terrible burden like me. You deserve so much better! I’m just… I’m just… I’m nothing,” you cried. The words ached coming out of you, your chest incredibly tight with pain, heart and head fully believing every word you said. Hearing nothing in return, you convinced yourself that the man you loved finally realized he was well out of your league. You cried harder, eyes shut tightly as you curled up into yourself as much as you could, trying so desperately to disappear beneath the water, wishing it could wash all of you away.

Your head snapped back as you felt something brush against your sides. With the dim light of the candle hardly shining past the curtain, you struggled to make out the legs that slid out from either side of you. Undressed, Yamada slipped into the shower behind you. His fingers gently pressed against your ankles before sliding up your shins to your knees.

“That’s not true, (Y/N),” he whispered gently to you, his soft voice cutting through the blanketing sound of water. You felt his chin against your shoulder as he leaned his head against yours, his hands crossing each other as he wrapped his arms around you. “Even if I could never put a price on you, that makes you invaluable, not worthless.” A soft kiss met your skin, his lips lingering as he spoke into you. “If you want to insist you’re nothing, let me remind you that nothing is perfect, and that’s exactly what you are to me: perfect.”

Quietness fell between you two as he held you close. You could feel his heart beating against your back. Over and over, he faintly placed kisses against your skin and hair, replacing each one as it was washed away. His hands traced over your body in loving caresses, giving you as many physical sensations as he could to draw you back to him. Each slide of his fingers called up goosebumps, a completely different touch than what the shower provided. He strummed his fingertips along your body and through your hair, drawing lines that somehow matched the melody of The Swan, the song continuing to play in an endless loop.

“I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as you,” you whispered coarsely, your throat in tough condition from such intense sorrow.

“Sure you do,” he corrected you with an almost playful tone. “If anyone deserves someone as wonderful as me, it’s you, (Y/N).” You could feel his smile against the back of your neck as he brushed your hair away to kiss it. “You’re my leading lady- the silver screen star that makes and breaks this movie we’ve all been cast in.”

His hand came up to your face, finger and thumb at your chin as he turned you to look at him despite the darkness. Just barely, you could make out that broad smile beneath his little moustache that you adored. “…and I’m your biggest fan,” he reminded you, softly kissing your lips. “I love you, (Y/N). There’s no one else who could even compare.”

…and when it’s over, you’ll breathe again.

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dimensiontripperhibiki · 6 years

Text

Let It Burn (55/?)

Here’s the next chapter, I hope you guys enjoy and as always thanks for the messages/reblogs etc. Warning(s): Sexual scenes (maybe), angst, violence.

“What?” Maki looked up for the third time, once more finding Kotori staring at her. She had noticed it a short while ago but she’d chosen not to say anything. “What’s wrong?” “Huh? What do you mean?” “You look like you want to say something to me.” Maki said, bracing her chin on her hand. She couldn’t help but smile at her girlfriend. Kotori seemed to be happy though Maki wasn’t sure what the cause of it was. “What is it?” “It’s nothing.” Kotori said, averting her eyes. “Oh come on.” Maki huffed out a sigh. “You look happy about it. I want to know.” “It’s nothing, um…” Kotori scrambled for an excuse as to why she looked so happy. “I overheard Umi-chan’s future self say that future Honoka-chan bought a ring for Nozomi-chan.”

“Wait, what?!”

Kotori looked up as Future Maki stepped forward. “I’m just saying what I overheard. I don’t know how Nozomi-chan feels about it though, she seemed upse-” She was cut off as Maki cried out in pain, lurching forward slightly. She managed to catch herself with her hands on the edge of her desk to keep herself from falling out of her seat. “Maki-chan!” Kotori bolted up from her seat and hurried over to Maki, vaguely noticing Future Maki clutching her head too. Maki gritted her teeth as words echoed throughout her mind. “Kikyo-nee-san is bleeding, I NEED A MEDIC! Rin-san, where the hell are you?! Tsubasa’s escaped into the timeline and she’s coming after the idiot!” “Maki-chan.” Kotori repeated, her hand resting gently on Maki’s shoulder. “Are you okay? What’s happening? Talk to me, Maki-chan.” Hearing the thunder of footsteps on the stairs she looked up in time to see Future Honoka reach the bottom, supporting a sobbing Nozomi. Wide eyed, Honoka looked between Maki and future Maki. “What the hell is happening?! Nozomi just...” “I-I don’t know.” Kotori said shakily, looking up from Maki. “It happened to Maki-chan too.” There was a simultaneous flash of white and orange lightning as Isla and Future Rin used their speed to get into the room, the former holding a tearful Natsuki close to her. “Kikyo is in deep trouble. Vera is freaking out.” Isla said, doing her best to reassure Natsuki. “Shit.” Honoka gasped, noticing a slight flicker in time around them. It was barely noticeable but she could see it. It seemed that Future Rin could too as she looked just as horrified. “Shit, her dormant ability is kicking in.” Rin said anxiously. “I thought for sure Maki-chan shut that part off.” “Whatever the hell is happening she’s going to tear a HOLE IN THE FUCKING CONTINUUM!” Honoka yelled, quickly making her way over to Kotori. She gently let go of Nozomi and glanced at Rin. “We need to go there. Bolt, get Eli and my...I mean Umi-chan from the future.” “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” Future Rin growled . Honoka was momentarily distracted by the sight of Kotori trying to comfort Nozomi. Her heart lurched. She should have been the one doing that but she couldn’t. She didn’t have time. “I’m the LEADER so do as I say!” Rin gritted her teeth. “Switch Eli out for future Nico and I’ll do it.” “Too late, I’m already here.” Eli announced herself, reaching the bottom of the stairs. She walked over to Nozomi, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Where are we going?” “YOU’RE not going anywhere.” Rin replied loudly, glancing at Eli. “Rin, I NEED her there. We need her.” Honoka argued, struggling to see Rin’s point. “I don’t see why it matters…” “She’s not coming and that’s final. Damn it, Aim will kill me if something happens to Kikyo. Maki, draw some blood from Nozomi or Honoka while we’re out, got it?!” Rin didn’t wait for an answer before she grabbed Future Honoka and ran from the basement with her to get Future Nico. Honoka stumbled a bit as they reappeared in the room Future Nico was using. “What the hell do you want with my girlfriend’s blood?!” Rin didn’t pay any attention. She grabbed Future Nico’s wrist and then set off again to get Umi. She didn’t give Honoka a chance to speak, not even slowing down. Future Umi was waiting for them with her katana anyway. When they reappeared in the alleyway it was to the sound of crying and the stench of blood. Future Honoka looked around, finding a girl with ginger hair, a shade lighter than her own holding onto a girl with blue hair. She noticed right away the blue haired girl was bleeding badly from the abdomen and she had fallen unconscious while the ginger haired girl’s head was bleeding. Future Rin rushed forward, picking up the shades that had been flung to the side. She slipped them quickly back onto Vera’s face. Honoka tensed, still feeling the ripples of time around her. “Go.” Future Umi urged, drawing her katana. “I’ll keep watch.” Future Honoka nodded stiffly and rushed across to Vera, grabbing her wrist. She concentrated, stopping time around them. “Vera...right?” The girl stopped sobbing and looked up, her dark shades keeping Honoka from seeing her eyes. Honoka reached up to take them off only for Future Rin to slap her hand away. “Nobody is allowed to touch those. They must stay on her face at all times.” “Rin-san.” Vera said, her voice choked. “I’m sorry. We failed our duty and Kikyo-nee-san might…” “Calm down.” Honoka instructed gently. “You need to not disturb time. Y-You’re a time and space manipulator, right?” “N-No. I’m a teleporter. That’s what I’ve been told. Rin-san?” “Yeah. That’s right. A teleporter.” Rin said with a stiff smile. “Bullshit.” Honoka said with a shake of her head. “She has time and space manipulation abilities.” “She doesn’t!” Rin exclaimed loudly, turning to Honoka. “Shut the hell up, Honoka. Vera-chan, you are a teleporter. Just like your mother said.” Vera sniffled softly. “B-But what about my other mom…?” “NO. Vera-chan, stop.” Rin rested her hand on Vera’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze. “You’re a teleporter, that’s all.” Future Honoka stared at Rin in disbelief, confused by her obvious lies. “Rin, what the…?” Rin glanced at Honoka pleadingly, silently begging her not to say anything. “Don’t say anything.” Rin whispered when Honoka opened her mouth. “Please. Please don’t say a word. She can’t find out.” Honoka didn’t understand but she fell silent, feeling the ripples around them slowly fade. Suddenly time started moving again. Honoka turned at the sound of a cry of pain, just in time to see Umi grasping at her cut cheek. “Get them out of here.” Honoka growled at Rin before she took off running to Umi. She noticed Umi’s shirt was ripped somehow but didn’t pay more attention than that. Future Nico joined her a second later. “I just transferred my blood into the kid. Does she have anyone who’s her actual type?” Honoka grabbed Umi’s arm, tugging it around her shoulders. “She’s an O type. Come on, Nico.” Nico grasped Honoka’s outstretched hand and a second later Honoka teleported them away. “I’m okay, it’s just my cheek.” Umi said meekly when the group reappeared in the infirmary. Honoka noticed that Maki, Future Maki, Future Rin, Kotori, Rei and the two kids from the alley were there. “Like hell.” “Is the girl okay?” Umi asked urgently. “The one from the alley, with the wound?” Rin nodded and pointed at one of the occupied beds. The blue haired girl lay in it, hooked up to a pouch of blood. “Who are they?” Honoka asked, frowning as she let Future Maki take Umi from her. Rin swallowed thickly. “Vera-chan and Kikyo-chan. They’re from the future, that’s all you need to know.” “Are they related to anyone?” “Classified. And no, you can’t take off her glasses. Her eyes are very...sensitive.” Honoka’s brow furrowed. “Wh…?” She was cut off as Kikyo suddenly sprung up. “S-So much aura. So much power…” Rin sighed and hit the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Tone down your powers, she’s sensitive to ability users’ life auras.” “Sorry.” Honoka closed her eyes, calming herself. “Is that your ability?” Umi whispered as Maki dabbed at the cut on her cheek. Kikyo’s eyes widened softly before she forced her expression back to neutral. “Yes. My ability is aura perception. Why am I here? Where is Vera?” “She’s there.” Rin pointed to the bed next to Kikyo’s. “She’s just unconscious, don’t worry. She passed out as soon as we got here but she’ll be fine. She was worried about you.” The young woman frowned. “She shouldn’t worry about me. Is Isla with you?” Rin nodded, stepping closer to Kikyo’s bed. “Yeah. Her and Natsuki.” “I see. Well at least we’re safe here.” Rin frowned. “Kikyo-chan, what are you doing here in the first place?” “We were ambushed. We followed HER into the timeline. I only followed Vera to keep her from doing anything reckless.” “You mean you followed Tsubasa.” Future Honoka blurted out. “Great, now I have to deal with two crazy future Tsubasas. The present one is not gonna be happy.” Umi eyed Kikyo’s sword as Maki finished bandaging her cheek. “Who gave that to you?” “My mentor.” Kikyo answered softly, instinctively touching the sword. “She doesn’t want me to shed blood. Like her.” Future Umi nodded, looking the girl over. She was clad in a black hakama and a dark blue gi that had some blood stains. For some reason Umi felt drawn to her though she wasn’t sure why. She cleared her throat, feeling someone step close to her side. She noticed it was just Honoka and offered a small smile. “I’m okay.” “I know.” Honoka mumbled though she looked to Future Maki anyway for confirmation. She received a nod in response. “I have to go and check on Nozomi. Will you be okay?” “Of course.” Future Umi answered with a puzzled frown. “Don’t worry about me.” “I always worry about you.” Honoka muttered, her eyes lingering on the bandage on Umi’s neck. It was too close, far too close to where Tsubasa had cut Umi down in her own timeline. She gave Umi’s hand a light squeeze before she excused herself. ---- “They’re going to be okay.” Isla said immediately upon running back into the living room to Natsuki. She watched as Natsuki sank down onto the couch, her legs seeming to give out in relief. She started toward her but movement caught her attention near the door. She glanced over to see present Honoka standing there with Eli behind her. “Are they back?” Eli asked, still looking quite upset. “Yeah. Everyone is fine.” “So who caused all of this?” Honoka asked in confusion as she glanced between them. She felt like she could hardly keep up with everything that was happening in the house now. “A friend.” Natsuki said, giving a small, easygoing smile. “Well she’s your friend.” Isla muttered. “I think she hates me.” “No, she likes you. She wants you to be her best friend, it’s just...fighting is her key language.” Natsuki explained with a wince. “You’re both similar in a lot of ways.” “We are not…” Isla mumbled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Eli looked between them with a troubled expression. She still wasn’t sure why they were there and it set her on edge. It felt like everything was slowly getting worse. A lot more complicated at least. Her thoughts were interrupted by future Rin walking into the room. “Okay, you two. Upstairs NOW. We have a problem and we need to talk strategy. Oracle will meet us up there.” Eli rolled her eyes, sighing at the comment. She still didn’t like the fact that Rin had kept her from going with Future Honoka. She knew she would have been useful to have on the mission but Rin had acted like she would get in the way. “I’m coming too.” Rin turned to Eli and opened her mouth to protest but Eli quickly interjected. “I wasn’t asking.” “Look, Pyro is second in command in my time but you are not her!” Rin growled irritably. She turned toward the two girls watching with wide eyes. “Natsuki, Isla, upstairs NOW!” “Right!” Isla grabbed Natsuki’s hand and dragged her off toward the stairs. She was sure she’d never heard Rin speak to Eli like that. Eli felt herself flush with embarrassment as Rin shot her a dark look. Her hands trembled at her side with anger but she didn’t say anything else. She felt Honoka lightly rubbing her arm but the reminder that Honoka had seen her being talked down to only made it worse. “Good.” Rin said darkly before she turned and left the room. She followed Isla and Natsuki upstairs and to the infirmary where she closed the door behind them. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found the only occupants of the room were Isla, Natsuki, Kikyo and Vera. She waited pensively by the door until it opened and Hibiki stepped into the room, clutching a notebook in her arms. She didn’t notice Hibiki leave the door open a little bit, nor did she notice the blonde creeping up to the door. Future Rin took a deep breath and turned her attention to the small group in front of her. Natsuki had moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to a sleeping Vera while Isla was making sure to keep her distance. Vera’s head was bandaged carefully, her glasses set to the side while she slept. Rin’s gaze lingered on them. She had to make sure they went back on when Vera woke, otherwise it would be obvious whose daughter she was. She took a deep breath. “Remember I told you three about Vera’s abilities being dormant? Well because she was in extreme emotional distress she broke the mental block Thinker placed on her when she was a baby. Now her true ability is starting to creep up.” “That’s not good.” Kikyo muttered from where she was sitting up in her own bed. Rin shook her head. “It isn’t your fault, Kikyo-chan. You’re her sister...distant, yes but still her sister. She cares about you.” Kikyo frowned, looking over at Vera. “I still believe it was my fault.” Natsuki hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I-I could try to block it. I mean how hard can it be? It was done when she was a baby for a reason. Now it’s beginning to develop so we need to stop her.” “You won’t be able to.” Isla spoke up quietly. “Maybe you should let her mother try. Sure, she’s younger but I…” “I don’t want Honoka anywhere near her!” Rin interjected loudly. “Especially the future version! She already knows she’s a time manipulator!” Isla gritted her teeth. “Why do you get to decide? Why do you get to decide that it’s fine for Nat-chan to be with her parents and it’s not okay for the rest of us?! I just want to speak to them, damn it! Maybe Vera-chan feels the same way about her mom! She’s never met her, you could just let her talk to her. Just once!” “No.” Rin said firmly. “And the answer to your question is that Natsuki-chan has her parents together in both timelines. Your parents aren’t. I’m sorry.” “It isn’t fair.” Isla whispered harshly, her eyes welling up. “I just want to talk to them again.” She scrubbed at her eyes and paced over to the window at the other side of the room. Natsuki watched with a troubled expression, her chest tight with guilt. It really wasn’t fair. Rin sighed, her shoulders slumping. The past few days - or past few months, as it had seemed for herself and Isla - had been hard on the girl. She was stuck in the speed force, imprisoned by the fact that she’d wanted to keep her friends, her family safe. “I’m sorry, Isla.” Isla stayed silent, refusing to give a response. Rin hesitantly turned back to the three still staring at her. “The point is, we can’t let Vera find out about her abilities. And we have to try to keep her calm until we figure something out. To keep her from unlocking them even more.” “I’ll try.” Kikyo said solemnly while Natsuki gave a nod of agreement. Rin was about to remind them to be careful around everyone from the present timeline when Vera bolted up in bed. From the doorway, Eli caught a glimpse of icy blue eyes before Rin sped forward and placed Vera’s shades on her face. “Kikyo-nee-san!” Vera bolted from her bed and toward Kikyo’s, throwing her arms around her in a desperate hug. “You’re okay!” “I’m okay.” Kikyo confirmed softly, gently rubbing Vera’s shoulder. Eli realized Rin was about to turn toward the door and quickly hurried away, entering the nearby bathroom. She locked the door behind her and leaned her head against it, her eyes brimming with tears. The teenager was Honoka’s, that much was obvious from the way Rin and Isla had spoken about Honoka. Eli remembered the russian name and the icy blue eyes. Vera was hers too, she had to be. Eli’s hand went to her heart. Isla had said that Vera had never met Honoka. That had to mean that Honoka had died. That she wasn’t in her future anymore. Eli squeezed her eyes shut, recalling her frequent nightmares. Of Honoka being stabbed and dying. Of her not being able to do anything to help. She took a shuddering breath, reminding herself it was a different timeline. She wouldn’t let that happen to her Honoka. She quickly wiped away her tears. She wanted to talk to Vera, to meet her but she couldn’t help but wonder why Natsuki, Rin and Kikyo seemed determined to hide Vera’s ability, even going so far as to lie to her. Whatever their reason was it had to be serious. Eli nodded to herself. She would have to keep what she had heard a secret. She thought about Vera’s sister, the blue haired girl. She seemed like Umi, of course. Eli had noticed that immediately but her eyes were different. Maybe she was adopted, Eli figured. Like Yuki. Eli sighed to herself. She couldn’t tell anyone about anything she had heard. --- Eli took a deep breath as she knocked lightly on Nozomi’s door. She didn’t want to disturb her best friend but she had to talk to someone even if she couldn’t give Nozomi the whole truth. She waited until Nozomi called for her to enter the room before she pushed the door open and walked in. She found Nozomi sitting up in bed, a book in her hands. Future Honoka was nowhere in sight. “Oh...sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Are you busy?” Nozomi shook her head. “It’s fine, come in.” Eli closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed, climbing onto it next to Nozomi. “You okay?” Nozomi asked, her brow slightly furrowed as she noticed the look on Eli’s face. Eli shrugged her shoulders. “I found something out today. Something pretty big but I can’t tell Honoka. Even though it involves her.” “Oh.” Nozomi waited for Eli to give her more information but none came. “What is it then?” “It’s about Vera.” Eli said though she noticed Nozomi staring at her blankly. “Honoka didn’t tell you it was the girl you were sensing?” Nozomi silently shook her head. “She’s our kid.” Eli said bluntly, figuring she should be able to tell one person. She trusted Nozomi completely. “Mine and Honoka’s, I-I think. And she’s an ability user but Maki...from the future blocked her time manipulation ability and I don’t know why. It seems important that she doesn’t even know she has it. And...Honoka is dead in the future. I’m pretty sure.” “That’s…” Nozomi stared at Eli for a moment. “That’s a lot of information, Elichi.” “I know! That’s why I needed to tell you.” Eli watched as Nozomi sighed and rubbed her temples. “I mean she’s mine! MINE, Nozomi. She has my eyes!” “I’m happy for you, Elichi.” Nozomi said softly. She flashed Eli a quick smile. “But I think Honoka was with Umi too.” Eli continued hurriedly. “So I’m kinda lost on why she and I had a kid together.” “Maybe it’s the same arrangement you have going on right now.” Nozomi offered with a shrug of her shoulders. Her eyes darted to the door. “But wouldn’t she want it with Umi? I mean those two are more bonded together. I’m fairly certain they end up together in every timeline. Every Honoka is meant to…” “That’s great, Elichi. Look, I’m...I really am happy for you.” Nozomi interrupted Eli. “I don’t know why Vera is yours and Honoka’s rather than hers and Umi’s. Maybe the three of you decided together. I don’t know.” Eli frowned at Nozomi. “Did I say something wrong?” “No, it’s...it’s fine. Don’t worry. I’m just tired and my head still hurts and my feelings are still all over the place from this morning. I’m just tired, Elichi.” “Right, I’m sorry.” Eli watched with a troubled expression as Nozomi looked away, biting her lip. “Is um...Honoka going to be back tonight? It’s…” She looked at the clock, her eyes widening when she noticed it was one in the morning already. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” “I think she’s busy with something.” Nozomi said with a sigh. It wasn’t uncommon for Honoka to leave to research something or to plan something out. “She’s probably speaking to Tsubasa. She’ll be back soon.” “Is that why you’re awake so late?” Eli asked, raising an eyebrow. “You were waiting for her to come back?” Nozomi gave a slight nod in response. “Wouldn’t you wait for your Honoka to come back if she was out late?” “That’s fair.” Eli said with a soft smile. “I heard she proposed. Are you going to say yes?” “What? She didn’t propose. Umi-chan...Umi-chan from the future said that Senpai bought a ring, that’s all. I don’t know where you heard she proposed…” “That means she’s going to propose though.” Eli insisted knowingly. “You are turning eighteen soon. Crap, it’s almost graduation. You think we might be held back?” “I think we should be more concerned about possibly dying.” Nozomi said, her face flushed with embarrassment. “You know, it’s kind of cool you got with a twenty year old. It’s so dreamy really, you got the regal woman to fall for you.” “Regal?” Nozomi laughed softly, shaking her head. “It’s just Honoka, I mean...she’s a future version but she’s still Honoka.” “So? You gonna say yes or what?” Eli pressed, nudging Nozomi’s side. “You know she’s going to propose eventually.” “I don’t know. I can’t imagine it really happening so...I don’t know yet.” Nozomi said with a shrug of her shoulders. “It seems far off. I’m only seventeen.” “And Maki is fifteen and Kotori is sixteen. They’re waiting, you idiot. I see them getting married once both of their careers are good. Or at least mid twenties.” Nozomi let out another sigh. “Have you seen Kotori and Maki together? They’re made for each other. And it’s simpler for them, it’s...more complicated for me. A lot more complicated. I mean I’m dating a time traveller. That’s complicated enough.” Eli blinked at Nozomi. “That didn’t matter to you before. If you’re worried Honoka is going to leave you, you don’t have to be. She loves you.” “I’m not saying she’s going to leave me for someone else. You loved me and you still left me because you thought I was better off without you.” Eli winced. “I-I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” “I know. And I understand.” Nozomi said, reaching for Eli’s hand. She grasped it, giving a gentle squeeze. “But I want to be the one to decide what’s best for me.” Eli opened her mouth to reply but stopped as future Honoka teleported into the room. Honoka seemed to do a double take at the sight of the two of them. Her eyes went to their joined hands. “Senpai.” Nozomi said upon following Eli’s gaze. She hoped Honoka hadn’t heard what they had been talking about. She wasn’t even sure how long the young woman had been there. “You’re back early.” “I wanted to see you.” Honoka said honestly, still staring at their hands. “Um…” Nozomi pulled her hand away, noticing what Honoka was looking at. “It’s not what it looks like. Elichi was just telling me something.” “Right.” “I’m going now.” Eli got off the bed and walked around Honoka to get to the door. “Goodnight, Nozomi.” “Goodnight.” Nozomi said quietly as Eli closed the door behind her. She watched as Honoka moved forward, climbing onto the bed. Suddenly Honoka was kneeling in front of her and hands gently grasped at her face, drawing her into a gentle kiss. Nozomi lightly grabbed Honoka’s arm for stability, using her other to hold herself up. She kissed Honoka back, overwhelmed but consumed by the passion Honoka was putting into the kiss. “Senpai…” Honoka pulled away, pressing her forehead to Nozomi’s. A moment later Nozomi felt her pajama top being tugged up. She lifted her arms, letting Honoka remove it. She quickly reached for Honoka’s button up shirt, hurriedly unbuttoning it as she kissed her again. She slid it off of Honoka’s shoulders just as she felt Honoka fiddling with the waistband of her shorts. She pushed Honoka back by her shoulders, moving to her knees to let Honoka pull the shorts down, along with her underwear. She grasped Honoka’s shoulders, letting the girl urge her back down to finish tugging the shorts off. “Senpai.” She was cut off as Honoka closed the distance between them and kissed her deeply. She whimpered, her brow furrowing at the feeling of Honoka’s warmth on top of her. She turned her head slightly, struggling to resist. “A-Are you sure you…?” “What?” Honoka asked with a light laugh. “I missed you. I haven’t been with you all day so now you’re mine. Mine, mine, mine. I’m more than sure.” Nozomi giggled as Honoka emphasized her point with several kisses trailing down to her neck. “You don’t want to stop, do you?” Nozomi unlatched Honoka’s bra, tugging it off and tossing it to the side. “I want your warmth, Honoka. I want you.” “You have me. Always.” Honoka promised, her hand sliding into Nozomi’s slightly wavy hair before she kissed her again. ---- “Are you sure it’s okay for us to be in here?” Kikyo fretted as she limped down the stairs with Natsuki’s help. Despite being healed the day before she still felt a little rough and her side still ached from where she’d been hit. “Sure. I’ll put anything we use back later.” Isla answered with a wave of her hand. “Besides, Natsuki’s mom lives here. It’s fine.” Kikyo glanced at Natsuki who nodded in confirmation. Isla noticed the look and rolled her eyes. It wasn’t abnormal for them to not take her word on things. She was the youngest after all, with the exception of her sister who was four years younger than her. She led Kikyo and Natsuki downstairs and into the kitchen where she paused suddenly. She had expected the kitchen to be empty but instead she found Hanayo and Nico there. Nico was cooking at the stove while Hanayo sat at the table, watching with a soft smile. “You seriously could be the perfect wife.” Hanayo said dreamily. Nico scoffed. “Oh shut up. Me, a wife? That’s never gonna happen.” “Not unless someone puts a ring on it.” Nico blushed, glancing at Hanayo. “Hey, don’t joke about that! I already have to deal with Kotori and Maki. And the other married couple.” “But you are great with kids.” Hanayo insisted, shaking her head. “I mean despite everything, your siblings love you.” Nico frowned. “I still need to find them…” “We will after we defeat Tsubasa.” Nico nodded but elected to change the subject. “How is the...ya know, whole head thing going?” “Better, especially with you by my side.” Hanayo said with a small smile. “It still niggles at me but I have it a little more under control now.” Nico turned back to cooking the eggs in the pan. “I kinda do want kids one day. Ugh, don’t tell Nozomi that. She’ll be on my ass about it.” “That’s adorable.” Hanayo beamed. “Shut up.” Hanayo got up and walked over to Nico, hugging her from behind. She gently nuzzled her nose into the crook of Nico’s neck. “We could have them one day. I mean...if we get through this.” Natsuki watched Isla out of the corner of her eye, noticing the crushed expression that crossed her face. She reached out for Isla’s hand but Isla quickly drew away. “Isla.” Isla shook her head silently. She wasn’t sure she could stand there and listen to what Hanayo was saying even though it was a different timeline. “What would we name them?” Hanayo asked softly. “Maybe...if it’s a girl, Hoshi. If it’s a boy...Kaoru.” “I would call my kid Tsubaki.” Nico’s eyes widened. “That’s a cute name. I would like that one.” “My dad thought of my name.” Isla whispered, noticing Natsuki looking at her. She watched as Nico looked at Hanayo softly before the gaze strayed, coming to rest upon her. She tensed as Hanayo seemed to follow Nico’s gaze. Hanayo’s eyes stopped on her but there was no motherly warmth in her gaze like Isla remembered. In fact she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You’re the new people here, right?” Hanayo asked coldly, her voice untrusting. “As if Kotori didn’t have enough people in this damn house.” Nico mumbled, rolling her eyes. Kikyo nodded in response to Hanayo’s question. “Yes, we’re the new people. We’re sorry for intruding.” “We’ve heard about you three from Eli-chan and Honoka-chan’s future self.” Hanayo said warily. “They don’t trust you very much.” Isla inched backwards toward the door, her chest tight. Natsuki glanced at Isla, noticing her retreating. “We understand. We’re just trying to fix our timeline, that’s all. I’m sorry if Rin-san upset you in any way.” “She’s upsetting a lot of people.” Hanayo advised them stiffly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “This whole thing was already a mess without all of you showing up. We don’t even know you.” The words rung in Isla’s ears and she bolted from the room. “Whoa.” Nico blinked in surprise. “I forgot she was a speedster. What’s up with her?” “You wouldn’t understand.” Natsuki said with a heavy sigh as she stared after her girlfriend. “Don’t worry about her, it’s nothing.” “It’s not nothing.” Kikyo mumbled thoughtfully to herself. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Isla so upset before. “Well I know that.” Natsuki hissed in response. She did know that Isla wasn’t fine. Being in the timeline they were in had to be hard for her. Isla wasn’t acting like herself either. She was pulling away from her, shrugging her off. She knew that Isla was happy for her, that she had gotten to speak to Kotori but it seemed to her that Isla resented that a little bit too. “Sorry, I have to go after her.” Natsuki excused herself, hurrying out of the kitchen and down to the basement where she was sure Isla would have retreated. Thankfully nobody else was down there, at least in the main room. “Isla.” “Leave me alone, Nat-chan.” Isla said, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to...be here! This is all wrong.” “Maybe our timeline’s the one that’s wrong. You know yourself, your dad isn’t in most of them.” Isla turned on Natsuki, her teeth gritted and her eyes moist. “So you’re saying I just shouldn’t exist? That Hana just shouldn’t…” “I would never say that and you know it!” Natsuki snapped, offended by the implication. “I love Hana! We all love your sister, I’m just saying maybe this timeline and our timeline are anomalies. You’re still going to exist, Isla. And so is Hana. Nothing is going to happen to either of you. Hell, this Hanayo isn’t even your mom! Your mom was your mom. You should know that. You remember how your mom was.” Isla nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What if this is our timeline? W-What if it’s screwed up and Rin-senpai just doesn’t want to scare me? What if you go back and you’re with Hoshi o-or Tsubaki or someone? What if I’m just stuck in the speed force and Hana just stops existing a-and…?” Natsuki walked over to Isla and kissed her hard. “You’re MY girlfriend and you always will be. I don’t care who the version of me from this timeline is. She’s NOT me.” “I-It’s just not fair. Even if Hana is gonna exist.” Isla said tearfully. “I just want to speak to them. I want to hear their voices one more time, the way I used to. I-If I could speak to my dad...” “I know.” Natsuki’s voice softened. She gave a slight smile. “Like my mom used to say your dad is always the same. He never changes. But Isla...this is a different timeline. You can’t confuse him. So it’s not a good idea.” Isla let go of Natsuki, shrugging her off with a whimper. “I’m tired of this. I want to go home and see my sister. The only reason I came here was the idea that I could see my parents. Rin-senpai said I could.” “Rin lies more than most of us.” Natsuki said softly. “But listen, Isla. It’s only been a couple of days. Just give us more time to…” “BULLSHIT!” Isla blurted out. “It’s been months for me, Nat-chan. I’ve been in the damn speed force for months without seeing you and Hana. You know time moves faster in there.” “I…” Natsuki blinked. She hadn’t even thought about that. Speechless, she stepped forward and hugged Isla as tightly as she could. Tears clouded her eyes as she felt the turmoil of Isla’s thoughts. Her fears and anxieties all coming to the surface. “I’m not going anywhere. And Hana is safe, I swear. Once we fix this you’ll be home, I promise.” --- Honoka breathed out a sigh of relief when she finally found Eli in the training room, sparring with Nico. She closed the door behind her, her eyes fixated on the two. She winced as Nico delivered a sharp blow to Eli’s chin. “Seriously, are you taking it easy on me today or something?” Nico mocked, falling back as Eli moved forward. She dodged a half hearted punch from the blonde. “Is that all you’ve got?” Eli opened her mouth to retort but then Nico was surging forward again, kicking her legs out from under her. She hit the floor hard, grimacing at the sudden ache. “Damn it, Nico.” “What? It’s not my fault you’re not paying attention.” Eli sighed. “I’m just distracted, that’s all.” She sat up, rubbing her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about meeting her future daughter. It wasn’t something people got to do every day, after all. She wanted nothing more than to talk to Vera but she couldn’t. She knew it was a terrible idea for her or Honoka to have any interaction with the girl. “Eli-senpai?” Eli looked up to see Honoka walking toward her, a serious look on her face. Her stomach plummeted. Maybe Honoka had found out. “Y-Yeah?” “Can I talk to you?” Honoka held out her hand to Eli. Eli felt herself panic but nodded and took Honoka’s hand, letting her help her up. A second later she felt the familiar feeling of the floor disappearing from under her feet as Honoka teleported them. Finding herself on a surface that wasn’t entirely straight she grasped onto Honoka tightly for balance. “What the…?” She looked around, finding herself slipping. “The ROOF?!” “I need to talk to you in private.” Honoka said quietly, gently helping Eli to regain her footing. Eli swallowed thickly. Whatever the issue was it seemed to be serious. “Alright, we can talk. Just...let me sit down. I feel like I’m slipping.” Honoka nodded and let Eli hold onto her while she lowered herself into a sitting position on the roof. Honoka sat down too, next to the blonde, her hands falling to her lap. “So um...I was talking to Umi-chan’s future self a couple of days ago. She said that she’s dating me in the future.” “Okay.” Eli nodded for Honoka to go on. “She said that she didn’t think Eli-senpai from the future would be okay with being in an arrangement like we are now.” Honoka said quietly, staring down at her hands in her lap. “And that she didn’t think she would like it either.” Eli frowned, starting to see where the conversation was heading. “Okay?” “She said that in the future we just...kiss. That we’re friends who um...are physically close but we don’t go past kissing.” Honoka felt her cheeks flush at the thought of what a future Eli would be like. “So we’re not together and you’re still with Nozomi-chan.” She watched as Eli nodded silently and took a deep breath before continuing. “Are you not happy with me and Umi-chan? I know we should have talked about it more before we all started...doing this but I couldn’t choose between you.” Eli shook her head. “I don’t want to leave you, Honoka. If that’s what you’re asking.” Honoka’s brow furrowed slightly. “In the future I’m not with you though. In...in Umi-chan’s future self’s timeline. Ugh, this is so confusing...I just feel like this is the only future we’re together in a-and I’m always with Umi-chan and I don’t want either of you to feel like I favor the other more. I wouldn’t want anything different to what we are now.” Eli winced a little at that. She had to admit she did get the feeling that Honoka loved Umi more than she loved Eli but she didn’t want to mention that. She reassured herself with the fact that she was with Honoka in another timeline. She wished she could tell Honoka that. “A-And I know it’s not easy now either.” Honoka fretted anxiously. “We don’t even sleep in the same bed anymore and we haven’t...you know, in a while. But I can have Umi-chan whenever I want...whenever both of us want b-but I just feel like me and you are…” Eli leaned in and turned Honoka’s head toward her, interrupting her with a gentle kiss. “It’s okay, Honoka. We’re fine, I promise.” Honoka slid her arms around Eli’s waist and hugged her tightly. “I feel like there’s more distance between us now. I miss you. I want you to be in my life. In Yuki’s life. But I-I feel like you’re getting further away from us. Come and sleep in our room again. Please? You say you want to make this work and so do I. I love you.” “I love you too, Honoka.” Eli sighed softly. “But you know I can’t. I don’t trust my abilities around Yuki. Especially with…the nightmares. I can’t come back yet. I’m sorry. But we can do this. We can make it work.” Honoka visibly deflated, her eyes growing damp. “Oh.” Eli felt her heart wrench at the reaction. “Sleep with me tonight.” She proposed gently. “We can use a different room or…” “There are no rooms.” Honoka mumbled unhappily. “We’ll go to a hotel then. I have some money saved for emergencies and you can just...tell Umi we need some time together. She’ll be okay with it...I think.” Eli offered hopefully. She kissed Honoka lightly once more. “We’ll pack a bag and spend the night alone, just the two of us.” “Minami-sensei won’t be happy if she finds out.” Honoka’s gaze flitted up to Eli’s. “Neither will Nishikino-san.” “So we won’t let them find out. Kotori would cover for us, right?” “I-I don’t know, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Honoka briefly bit her lip. “But I want to be with you.” “So do I.” Eli said softly. “I need you.” “I need you too.” Eli whispered, her hand going to the back of Honoka’s head. She gently pressed their foreheads together, exhaling slowly. “I’m not going anywhere, Honoka. Even if it feels like I’m...distant at times I’m in this for the long run. I promise.” “You do? You promise?” “I swear to it.” Eli said sincerely. “Come on, let’s go and talk to Umi. I’m sure we can figure something out.” Honoka let out a soft sigh, not satisfied with the response but nodded anyway. She took Eli’s hand and teleported them back to her bedroom. Umi, who was sitting on the bed with Yuki in her lap, jumped at their arrival. “Couldn’t you have just walked in? Maki keeps telling you you need to use your ability less, Honoka.” “Sorry.” Honoka mumbled, glancing at Eli. “Um...I wanted to ask you something.” “We wanted to.” Eli corrected softly, giving Honoka’s hand a gentle squeeze. Umi sighed. “Go on…” “I-I want to spend the night with Eli-senpai.” Honoka said awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. She watched as Umi frowned. “Not that I don’t like being with you, Umi-chan. But I miss Eli-senpai…” “Understood.”

“Huh?” Eli was surprised. She had expected Umi to agree but reluctantly. “You have been distant, Eli. It’ll be good for both of you, I suppose.” Umi said with a small smile. “Yuki and I can stay with Arisa for the night. We’ll pretend it’s a sleepover or something.” “Thank you, Umi-chan.” Honoka said with a sigh of relief. “I-It’s just for the night.” “It’s okay.” Umi said honestly. “I know how much you miss her.” She looked toward Eli. “I had gotten used to you being here too, I suppose.” Honoka’s eyes lit up. “Maybe we could…” “No.” Umi let her eyes go to Yuki. “Someone needs to keep an eye on her.” Honoka sighed softly. “I can’t wait until this is over and we can find somewhere of our own. Yuki could have her own room and she’d be safe.” Eli looked at Honoka. “You mean all four of us?” “Of course.” Honoka said with a sincere nod. “Don’t think you’re gonna escape me that easily. I want you in Yuki’s life. Mine and Umi-chan’s too.” Umi glanced at Eli. “I kind of want that too. All four of us.” Eli beamed, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes. “I guess I have no choice.” “No.” Honoka and Umi said in unison, shaking their heads. ------ You glanced around to make sure nobody was following her before she let herself out of the Minami household using the back door. She wasn’t sure she could stand being inside anymore. Before everything had gone wrong she used to always be at the beach or out with her friends. She slid the door shut behind her only to pause when she saw a girl standing in the yard, looking down at the rocks on the ground. She squinted against the sun, noticing ginger hair. “Honoka?” The girl turned around to look at You before she disappeared suddenly. “Huh?” You whirled around to see the girl reappear behind her and start to make her way into the house. Quickly, You grabbed the girls jacket and easily pulled her toward her. “Honoka-chan, what the…?” “Argh, let me go!” The girl complained loudly. “I didn’t do anything this time!” “Honoka-chan!” You turned the girl toward her only to pause when she finally got a good look. “You’re not Honoka-chan…” “No. I’m...Vera. My name is Vera.” Vera replied hesitantly, making sure to keep her eyes closed. She had dropped her sunglasses a few minutes ago. “Can you let go of me?” “Oh. S-Sorry!” You quickly let go of the girl, blushing at her own mistake. The girl really did look a lot like Honoka to her, at least from behind and at a glance. “I thought you were someone else.” The girl almost fell backwards due to You letting go while she still had her eyes shut. You’s eyes widened in surprise. “Hey, open your eyes.” “I can’t, it’s the rule.” “Huh?” “Number one rule.” Vera said, her eyes still tightly shut. “Never show my eyes to anyone outside of my family. No strangers.” “You’re weird.” You said with a roll of her eyes. She glanced around, noticing the girl’s shades on the ground and went to pick them up. Walking back to the girl she slid them onto her face. “There. Now I can’t see them. Just open your eyes so you don’t fall again.” Vera hesitantly opened her eyes. “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s my fault anyway. What were you doing?” You asked curiously. “Something…” You raised an eyebrow. “Something like what?” “Why should I tell you?” “You are super weird.” You said thoughtfully, puzzled by the girl. “I am NOT WEIRD!” Vera scowled. “My ability was acting up, if you must know.” “You teleport, right? I just saw that.” You said thoughtfully. Vera sighed, remembering what the girl had told her in the alleyway. “I think there’s more to it than that but I can’t talk to anyone about it. Everyone is always keeping things from me and I’m older than Isla!” “Who?” “Ugh!” Vera threw her arms up in exasperation. “J-Just forget it. I was told by the adults not to talk about myself. I’m sorry. I don’t like hiding.” “You don’t need to apologize.” “I’m scared something has happened to me and now I’m dangerous to my friends…” Vera said hesitantly, looking up into You’s warm eyes. “You ever felt that way?” “All of the time.” You answered with a slight smile, remembering when she felt the exact same way about her abilities. “Right…” Vera groaned at her behavior. She was giving too much away. But she was so curious about this new ability. “You’re Watanabe You, right?” You’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know my name?” “S-Sorry, um...I just feel like I can talk to you. I talked to you a lot in my...” “Timeline?” You finished knowingly. She tilted her head, wondering if she should keep going but the kid clearly needed to talk. You sat down on the edge of the porch. “Okay, let’s talk.” Vera hesitated for a moment before she sat down next to You and removed her shades to reveal bright icy blue eyes. “Okay. I-I think I might be another time manipulator. Like my mother.” ---- Kotori braced herself by taking a deep breath before she knocked lightly on the door to the room Hanayo and Nico were sharing. Her chest fluttered with nerves and she waited for a moment before she pushed the door open and entered the room. Hanayo, who was sitting on the bed, looked up in surprise. “Kotori?” “Hey.” Kotori said with a small smile. She glanced to her right, finding Nico at the desk, seemingly going over some notes. “Um...Nico-chan? Are you busy?” “Very busy.” Nico answered with a sigh without looking up. She paused for a moment but when Kotori didn’t say anything she looked up. Her brow furrowed when she noticed Kotori fidgeting nervously. “What’s wrong with you?” “I need your help with something.” Kotori replied, closing the door behind her. She glanced toward Hanayo but figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her stay. “Um...do you remember when I was taken by Sonoda?” “Obviously.” Nico stood up from her seat, forgetting about the notes she had been reading through. “What about it?” “I told you after Rei-san healed me that I was fine. That I didn’t have any more injuries?” Kotori asked hesitantly. She received a nod from Nico and realized that Hanayo was watching in concern too. “Well...I lied.” Nico’s hands tightened into fists. She felt her nails dig into her palms and winced slightly. It seemed Raven’s interference with her senses had started to allow her senses to linger long after he had left. “What the hell does that mean?” Kotori took a deep breath. She had never told Nico in detail what had happened but she didn’t have a choice now. “Sonoda kept me chained up with my arms above my head. It must have been...a few days until she left me down. I lost feeling in my arms and I couldn’t move them until Rei-san healed me. But now they’re still weak. I can’t lift them for long and…” “Stop.” Nico held her hand up to interrupt Kotori. “Hanayo, get the syringe.” Hanayo, who had been staring at Kotori in horror looked even more horrified by Nico’s request. “B-But it’ll hurt you.” “Just do it. Please.” Nico rolled up her sleeve. “We need to help Kotori.” “B-But Maki-chan needs to do it. I’m not a doctor.” “You are in the future. I trust you.” Nico said bluntly. She noticed shock cross Hanayo’s face. “Honoka told me you’re Maki’s assistant.” Hanayo hesitated but eventually nodded, going to the desk and opening a drawer. A moment later she crossed to Nico with a syringe in her hand as well as some cotton, some alcohol and a belt. She carefully sat next to Nico on the bed, tying the belt around her arm before she poured some alcohol onto the cotton buds. She gently dabbed at Nico’s arm. “You ready?” “Yeah.” Nico whispered, meeting Hanayo’s gaze for a moment. “It’s okay.” Hanayo swallowed thickly, seeing the pain in Nico’s eyes. She remembered their time in the facility, when Nico had sobbed relentlessly because she was in so much physical and emotional pain. She lowered the syringe to Nico’s arm only for a hand to be thrust in the way. She flinched back. “Wait, wait.” Kotori said quickly, her eyes wide. “I can’t. I can’t let you do that, Nico-chan.” “It’s just blood, Kotori.” Nico said with a sigh. “I need to do this. Does it hurt? Your arms. Do they hurt?” “Y-Yes.” “So I need to do this.” Nico watched as Hanayo drew the needle away from her arm. “At the minute this is the only way I can help any of you.” “You’re feeling it though.” Kotori protested meekly. She hadn’t known that until Hanayo had said it. “I can’t do it, Nico-chan. Raven-kun’s ability is having a stronger effect on you than we thought.” Nico frowned at the needle. She had never been scared of them before, not since she was a kid. “You came to me for help, Kotori. I-I can take it, okay?” Kotori frowned guiltily. “You don’t have to be brave Nico-chan.” “I’m not brave, I’m terrified.” Nico said softly. Kotori noticed Nico’s hand shaking. “I’m sorry.” She leaned down and carefully hugged Nico, being as gentle as she could. “Thank you, Nico-chan. You’re a good friend.” She leaned back, taking the needle from Hanayo’s hand. She crossed the room, placing the needle on the desk and headed for the door. “Wait!” Nico called out for Kotori. “What about you? You said you were in pain.” Kotori hesitated with her hand on the door handle. She turned, forcing a smile to her lips. “I’m getting used to it. Don’t worry about me, Nico-chan. Thank you for listening to me anyway. I’ll...see you both later.” “Damn it.” Nico hurriedly took the belt off of her arm when Kotori left. It fell to the floor next to the bed and she leaned forward, burying her head in her hands as her eyes welled up with tears. “Damn it. I can’t keep doing this, Hanayo. I can’t keep feeling. I’m becoming useless. It’s making me weak.” “It’s not.” Hanayo disagreed, wrapping an arm gently around Nico. “It’s making you stronger. Pain is what keeps people knowing they’re alive. Pain is what reminds you you’re human and it’ll make you stronger with each hit. I promise. It’s okay to feel pain, Nico-chan.” “I couldn’t even do anything to help Kotori.” Nico protested tearfully, looking up at Hanayo. “I still have my ability. It’s just a little pain, what am I so afraid of?!” “You’re not used to it yet.” Hanayo said gently, rubbing her girlfriend’s back. “Kotori will understand.” Nico nodded and wiped at her teary eyes though she still looked pained. “Nico-chan.” Hanayo waited until she had Nico’s attention before she spoke again. “Bite me.” “What?!” “Let me feel your pain. Maybe it’ll help you process things better. If you can imagine you’re passing it on. Like how people say you can give a cold away, right?” Hanayo asked thoughtfully. “It’s worth a try.” “I don’t want to hurt you.” “I trust you. You’re not gonna hurt me. Well just a little bit. Please? It’s worth a try, Nico-chan.” “Fine.” Nico swallowed thickly. “You’re becoming more of a masochist than me.” Hanayo gave a gentle chuckle. “Do remember I used to bite you just as hard.” “You drew blood.” Nico pointed out. “And you loved it.” “I still will.” Nico closed the space between them, her hand clutching Hanayo’s shoulder. She gave a gasp as Hanayo gripped her arm, tugging her into her lap. “It’s better this way.” Hanayo said as Nico straddled her lap. “Go ahead, Nico-chan.” “Okay.” Nico took a deep breath before she leaned forward. She kissed Hanayo’s neck before lightly nipping at it. She tried to be gentle at first but gradually Hanayo’s soft sighs and moans encouraged her to bite down harder, sucking hard at the same time. She could feel Hanayo clutching at her tightly, breathily telling her to be rougher but Nico held herself back, aware that she needed to be careful. ---- Honoka was watching with a small smile as Arisa sat with Yuki, reading quietly to her while the young girl listened with rapt attention. It was sweet that that the two were becoming so close. She looked up at the sound of a knock at the door. “Honoka?” Raven called through the door. “Meeting in the basement. Your future self wants to talk about the new guests.” “Right, coming.” Honoka stood up from the bed. She had known this would be coming. Her future self had warned them all. She smiled softly as Arisa and Yuki looked up at her. “I won’t be long. Arisa-chan, will you stay in here with Yuki, please?” Arisa nodded sincerely. “I will.” “Thank you.” Honoka said gratefully. She took a breath before she turned and left the room where she found Raven waiting outside for her. “Are Eli-senpai and Umi-chan downstairs already?” Raven nodded in response. “They were just waiting for you. They didn’t want to start without you and your future self isn’t there yet anyway.” “So she wanted all of us to be there?” “Yeah. She seemed confused. And she didn’t want Rin’s future self to be there either.” Raven said, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t blame her. I don’t even think Nozomi-chan likes this new Rin-chan.” Honoka asked as they began to walk toward the stairs. “She’s a lot different from the Speedy I’m used to.” Raven said in agreement as they walked down the stairs. “Dia-san is there too. And Sarah, I think her name is. I think your future self asked for them to be there. Me too though I don’t know why she wants me there.” “Maybe because you’re connected to CORPS. Or maybe because of whatever your reason is for staying here with us.” Honoka said thoughtfully. “Why are you?” “I don’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, I have friends here now. I guess.” Raven shrugged sheepishly. “Kotori, Speedy and Doodler. And Hanayo and Nico. I haven’t had that before so I don’t want to leave if I can help it. Not right now, at least. Besides, I think I’m helping here.” “Like Nico-chan. You helped her.” Honoka paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs. They continued slowly on their way to the kitchen, neither in a hurry to get to the meeting. “And Hanayo-chan.” “Yeah, I’m like stuck with those two now.” Raven said with a sheepish laugh. “Well you’re Hanayo’s wingman, right? And Nico-chan needs someone to baby her sometimes. She can be too much of an adult.” Honoka said seriously before a smile tugged at her lips. “There’s Yuki too. She really looks up to you, probably because you saved her.” Raven shrugged his shoulders. “Well Nico reminds me of Hisa...my older sister. And Yuki is a good kid.” “She is.” Honoka said with a smile. She took a deep breath before she opened the basement door and led Raven down the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom she found the group waiting in the basement. Maki was at her computer and Honoka noticed in surprise that Future Maki and Future Nico were standing behind her. Glancing around she noticed everyone else from Muse standing around, even Future Umi and Future Kotori were standing together. Dia and Sarah were talking quietly between themselves. But there was no sign of Future Rin. Honoka watched as Raven drifted over to Rin and Hibiki. Letting out a slow breath she walked over to Eli and Umi. Before she opened her mouth to speak though, Honoka appeared suddenly in front of the large group, Tsubasa’s wrist gripped in her hand. Erena was lightly clutching Honoka’s sleeve on the other side. At the sight of Tsubasa, Eli’s hands lit up with flames and she positioned herself in front of Honoka and Umi, her eyes narrowing. Rin used her speed to run forward, situating herself next to Eli while Kotori quickly looked away. “What the hell are they doing here?!” Eli hissed at Future Honoka who merely shook her head in silence. “You’re late.” Maki deadpanned with a sigh. “Yeah, sorry. Had to get here with these two.” Future Honoka said apologetically. Tsubasa raised her hand in a slight wave. “Um...hi.” Eli frowned at the rather timid gesture. “So this is the great crazy Tsubasa? The one who’s going to kill us all?” “I-I’m not crazy!” Tsubasa exclaimed hurriedly. “It’s just a split personality. Don’t you guys have parasite ability users too?” “I am.” Hanayo said quietly, causing Tsubasa to glance over at her. Dia looked away, her mind flitting to Mari. Kotori backed away slightly, her hands trembling at her sides. She hadn’t known that Tsubasa was going to be there. She felt a hand come to rest lightly on her shoulder and looked up to see Raven standing there, Hibiki next to him. “Don’t worry.” He said softly. Kotori took a deep breath and glanced around the room to check where Maki was. She found her girlfriend sitting at her computer staring intently at Tsubasa. Tsubasa’s gaze locked with the girl who had moved. “Minami-san…” Maki bolted from her seat at her computer, jumping toward Tsubasa. Future Maki quickly followed, jumping after Maki before she could reach Tsubasa. She grabbed Maki by the shoulders, taking her to the floor. “Maki-chan!” Kotori gasped as her girlfriend and the future version of her girlfriend both hit the floor. “Let me go!” Maki growled, struggling against the girl on top of her. The future version of herself was holding her down, a knee placed in the middle of her back to hold her there. “Why the fuck is she here?!” “Damn it, calm down.” Future Maki said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep Maki on the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “She’s the one who took Kotori.” Maki replied, her eyes brimming with tears as she tried to reach Tsubasa. She remembered vividly seeing Tsubasa teleport away with her girlfriend. “Get OFF me!” Future Honoka sighed, rubbing her temples. “Get off of her.” She watched as Future Maki did as she was told, albeit reluctantly. Immediately, Maki was on her feet, rushing toward Tsubasa but Honoka stepped in front of the nervous girl. “Maki, stop. We need them. I don’t like it either but we have to work together.” Maki tried to push past Future Honoka but Future Honoka grasped her arms to keep her still. “Maki!. Stand down.” Maki gritted her teeth, looking past Honoka at Tsubasa. “This isn’t over.” Future Honoka gently pushed Maki back and waited for her to walk back to her computer before she let out a sigh. “I know this isn’t ideal. But we need to work together if we want to defend ourselves against A-Rise from the future. And Anju. Tsubasa and Erena are on our side. For now, at least.” “You really think we can trust them?” Dia spoke up from the back of the room. She didn’t pay much attention to the gazes that turned to her. “Their team member killed my friend. The people they work with killed another of my friends and kidnapped another. What makes you think we can trust them?” “I think we don’t have a choice, that’s all.” Future Honoka replied seriously. “Since the timelines started seeping through, this has gotten a lot worse. We have two more versions of Tsubasa out there. Both of them more powerful than this one. Or at least...crazier than this one.” “This timeline thing is getting ridiculous.” Future Nico said with a huff of annoyance. Future Honoka ignored the comment. “We all need to stay vigilant. Either Tsubasa could attack us at any time. Especially the Tsubasa from future Rin’s timeline. From what I’ve heard from Rin she’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants. And what she wants right now is the ability Isla has. Not only Isla in this timeline but Chika too.” Tsubasa flinched at the mention of Chika’s name. She recalled with a sickening feeling that she had taken the girl’s ability. “We need to protect Vera too.” Future Honoka added. “The teleporter with the sunglasses?” Future Umi asked in confusion. “She’s not a damn teleporter!” Future Honoka snapped irritably. “And about this future version of Rin, I don’t want any of you to thi-” She trailed off suddenly as a streak of orange lightning flashed into the room. Future Rin appeared in front of her and before Honoka could say anything else, Rin had grabbed her and used her speed to run off again. “Guess the meeting’s over.” Nico concluded thoughtfully, staring at Tsubasa and Erena. Sarah blinked in confusion. “What...just happened?” “Looks like Rin’s future self was eavesdropping.” Eli said with a sigh. “What does she mean, Eli-senpai?” Honoka asked, glancing at her girlfriend. “I thought you said one of the new girls was a teleporter.” “I don’t know.” Umi frowned at the simple response. She could tell that Eli was lying to Honoka but she wasn’t sure why. She decided not to press the issue for now. Maki glared at Tsubasa. Now that Future Honoka was gone she was tempted to go over there and finish what she had started but her anger had ebbed a bit now. She sought out Kotori, finding her standing with Raven and future Maki, the two of them talking quietly to her. It was clear that Kotori was still quite shaken. Sarah walked closer to Tsubasa, stopping in front of her. “You’ll be with me until Taichou gets back.” “Right.” Tsubasa noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and looked in that direction to see Hanayo inching closer. She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Koizumi-san, right?” Hanayo nodded in response. “Yeah. S-So um...you have that whisper in your head too?” Tsubasa’s brow furrowed as she moved closer, warily. “Yes. The same one that keeps trying to make me take more abilities.” “Mine is more like wanting to take the hearts out of people.” “Oh.” Tsubasa said in surprise. “I’m more for brains than hearts.” “Brains?” “Yeah, opening up the head and examining the brain gets addictive. Before this whole thing I tried to never go to that extreme but now…” “It’s hard to control.” Hanayo finished knowingly for Tsubasa. “Tell me about it.” Nico frowned as she watched Hanayo and Tsubasa talking. She wasn’t sure if it was even a good idea for them to even be in each other’s vicinity but she knew she couldn’t step in to stop them. Maki slowly rose to her feet and took a step forward to Kotori, noticing her fiance’s lower lip trembling. She watched as her future self pulled Kotori into a light hug, gently rubbing her back. She paused, her expression troubled. Somehow she got the impression that Kotori was keeping something from her but she wasn’t sure what it was. “Do you need a hug too, little Maki-chan?” Maki glanced to her left to see Future Kotori standing there with a small smile on her face. She nodded slightly and gratefully accepted the hug Kotori gave her. She turned into the older version of her girlfriend, tears welling up in her eyes once more and buried her face in Kotori’s chest, hugging her tightly like a scared child. ---- “What the hell did you do that for?!” Future Honoka snapped, yanking her arm away from Rin as soon as they came to a stop. She vaguely noticed they were outside but she didn’t pay much attention to where they were. “I was in the middle of an important meeting!” Rin gritted her teeth. “What were you thinking telling them everything you know about the future. God, you really are an IDIOT, aren’t you?! The future is the future for a reason. Nothing has happened yet! Those kids haven’t even been born yet!” “What does that have to do with anything?!” Honoka scowled in response. She cast a quick glance around to assess where they were and found that they were on the school roof. “That kid needs to learn. She’s a time and space manipulator, Rin! She needs to get control of it and who better to teach her than…” “Do NOT say you.” Rin warned seriously. “You’re not going anywhere near Vera, do you understand?! As soon as I speak to Maki...the older Maki, we can get this damn ability locked again.” “Why?!” Honoka asked in frustration. “Why must this be kept a secret. I mean the kid is even forced to wear sunglasses! What the hell is wrong with you people?!” “Vera needs to be protected!” Rin growled, offended by the insinuation that she was somehow mistreating Vera. “Because her mother doesn’t want Tsubasa or the remnants of CORPS or the world for that matter to find out about Vera’s ability. I’m not trying to hurt her by keeping it a secret, just like Nico wasn’t trying to hurt Isla by forcing me to take her into the speed force. Isla and Vera are complicated cases, okay?” Honoka exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down. “Tell me what’s going on.” Rin stared at Honoka for a long moment before she spoke again. “It’ll hurt you but it will be the best way to shut you up. If you’re willing to hurt yourself with this go ahead and ask me.” Honoka frowned in confusion at Rin’s answer. “Who are they? All of them.” “I’ll start with the two easier ones.” Rin said quietly, turning and walking away a couple of steps. She stopped near the fence surrounding the roof and turned to Honoka. “Natsuki is Maki’s. Isla is Hanayo’s.” Honoka stared at Rin in surprise for a long moment. “Who are their fathers?” “Natsuki had a donor. Raven is Isla’s father. In my timeline he got Hanayo. Though Nico and I are joint godmothers.” “The other two?” Honoka asked hesitantly. Rin clicked her tongue. “Kikyo is adopted. She was found during the liberation of the camp she was in when she was one. She sensed your auras with her ability and she got your attention by crying. You and Umi found her in the arms of a dead agent.” Honoka blinked at Rin. “So she’s mine? I mean...from the future. From your timeline.” She paused, shaking her head. “Wait, they had babies in those camps?” “Well her birth was forbidden.” Rin exclaimed, leaning back against the fence. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “They were going to take her to the ‘orphanage’ to become a special agent.” Honoka nodded slowly, mulling over the idea. “Right.” “Vera on the other hand is biological.” Rin continued, watching Honoka closely. “You wanted a child of your own and Umi decided that seeing as she had Kikyo, she wanted Eli to be the kid’s second mom.” “Eli-senpai is?” Honoka felt her eyes mist with tears and she blinked rapidly against them. “So in the future we’re together a-and we…” “Have a kid. Yeah.” Rin answered with a sigh. She had known Honoka would find that upsetting. “We have to keep her sunglasses on because if you looked into her eyes you’d know. Anyone would know she’s yours and Eli’s.” “I think I need to sit down.” Honoka muttered, her hand going to her head. “So I have a kid. In the future. And me and Eli-senpai are together.” “I didn’t say that.” Rin interrupted bluntly. When Honoka looked up sharply she glanced away. “With Umi-chan?” “No…” “With Nozomi?” “No. Stop guessing.” Rin bit her lip apprehensively. “Look, Honoka...something happened in the future. Something bad. You...it’s complicated but...well Eli manage to save the kid and she lived too but you...you transferred your ability into Vera while you died in Eli’s arms.” “W-Wha…?” Honoka felt her knees give out beneath her and grabbed onto the metal fence to keep herself standing. She stared at Rin, feeling her face pale. “I’m dead in your future. I died.” Rin nodded grimly. “There was nothing anyone could do. Um...Vera went with Eli and Kikyo stayed with Umi.” “So I’m dead and my kids are seperated...I feel sick.” Honoka muttered. She slowly lowered herself to sit on the floor, burying her head in her hands. “Eli and Umi still care about each other but they’re more concerned with their own kid.” Rin replied, taking a step closer to Honoka. “You, Eli and Umi were together for three years with Kikyo so Eli and Kikyo are still close. But Umi couldn’t...it was difficult for her after you died. It was hard for both of them but Eli threw herself into taking care of Vera. Umi didn’t have that kind of distraction. Kikyo kept asking about you and Yuki was so upset for such a long time after your death...and that just made it so much harder for Umi. We helped her as best we could of course but she had lost Kotori too.” A sob sprung from Honoka’s throat, her hands fisting into her hair. “Tell me Maki is taking good care of her kid.” “She’s doing her best.” Rin crouched down near Honoka but didn’t move to comfort her. “But Maki had lost Kotori too. Nico and Nozomi helped her with Natsuki until Natsuki turned fourteen.” Honoka glanced up, hope shimmering in her teary eyes. “Nozomi. Is she...okay in the future?” She had to hope that at least one of her friends was happy in the future. “Better than most.” Rin said slowly. “She’s practically all of the kids godmother. Even my little twins, Sora and Riku. They’re only seven. All of the kids love Nozomi. You know how she is.” “Yeah, I do.” Honoka dashed her tears away, sniffling softly. It was a relief to know that Nozomi was alive at least. “What about um...she doesn’t have any kids? Nozomi?” “Neither her or Nico do.” Honoka frowned at that. “Nico makes sense but Nozomi…” She paused, struggling to think of a reason for that. “She didn’t want them?” “No, I think she did.” Rin answered quietly. “It’s complicated, you know?” “Eli-senpai left her, didn’t she?” “No. She let Eli go from what I could tell. After Eli there wasn’t really anyone else. Nothing serious anyway. A couple of flings but that’s all. She...well she mainly supports the rest of the group. You know how she is, Nozomi is the mother of the group.” Honoka looked down at the ground, taking a few minutes to take that in. “Nozomi deserves more.” “I told you it would hurt. But do you understand now?” Rin said in a whisper. Honoka swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Let’s talk to Maki.” Rin nodded and got to her feet. “Hopefully she knows how to lock abilities by now.” She held out her hand to Honoka who paused for a moment before taking it, letting herself be pulled to her feet. “Honoka. You can’t tell anyone about this. Even Nozomi. Do you understand?” “I don’t keep things from Nozomi.” Honoka replied, frowning at the suggestion. “I won’t lie to her.” “You have to.” TBC.

#NozoHono #HonoEli #HonoUmi #KotoMaki #Nicopana #Fanfiction

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nitrateglow · 7 years

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Halloween 2017 movie marathon: The Mummy (dir. Karl Freund, 1932)

“Do you have to open graves to find girls to fall in love with?”

In 1921, a British expedition in Egypt unearths a mysterious mummy and an ancient document known as the Scroll of Thoth. The mummified man was known as Imhotep (Boris Karloff) and buried alive for sacrilege. One of the younger archaeologists reads the forbidden spell on the scroll, bringing Imhotep’s corpse back to life. The archaeologist goes mad from fright, and both Imhotep and the scroll disappear for a decade. In 1932, the disenchanted half-Egyptian socialite Helen Grosvenor (Zita Johann) returns to the land of her mother. Her presence does not go unnoticed by Imhotep, who has integrated himself into normal society under the identity of Ardeth Bey. Imhotep believes Helen to be the reincarnation of the Egyptian princess he defied his gods to love. Using the Scroll of Thoth, he strives to destroy Helen’s body and possess her soul so that he may be reunited with his long-lost lover, but Helen, her suitor Frank Whemple (David Manners), and Egyptologist Dr. Muller (Edward van Sloan) fight to keep the past in the past.

When most people think of the mummy as a movie monster, they imagine a bandaged husk with glowing eyes that prowls about slowly, killing people too stupid to just outrun it. That or Brendan Fraser. Or Universal trying to cash in on Marvel’s success with cinematic universes in the most shameless, desperate way possible. These images do not apply to the original The Mummy from 1932. Far from a cheesy schlock-fest, the original Mummy has aged rather well. In his Trailers from Hell review, make-up artist Joe Dante claims The Mummy is probably the most modern of the classic horror movies in terms of its sophistication and “pop poetry.” On a technical level, I would argue that it surpasses Dracula and even Frankenstein, with its fluid cinematography and understated use of background score. On a storytelling level, it is creepy and even Romantic in the early nineteenth-century sense. It’s hard for me to pick a favorite classic Universal horror movie, as so many of them range from good to great in quality, but for me it’s a toss-up between The Old Dark House and this haunting film.

Pretty much all the classic Universal horror pictures are gorgeous to look at, but The Mummy is stunning in its use of chiaroscuro and evocation of macabre atmosphere. The camera drifts slowly through the moody sets, giving the images a sense of depth not often found in early sound cinema. The cinematography and editing are often brilliant too, though in a rather understated way. “Understated” might be the best word to describe the entire film; from the get-go, it takes its time in getting us to the action, setting up the suspense from the first scene, where a group of archaeologists unearth Imhotep’s mummy and are told not to recite this spell that will bring it back from death. You just know one of them will! This quiet sense of dread, that something terrible will happen any moment, is suffused throughout the picture, lending it a genuine creepiness that works to this day. It relies less on cheap scares or things going bump in the night, and more on suggestion and mood; this may be the secret of how it has weathered the years well.

The Mummy is a true gothic story, not only because it features classic gothic tropes and images (tombs, premature burial, vengeance, forbidden desire, religious iconography, etc.) but because above all it is concerned with how the past lingers in the present—or as William Faulkner once put it, how the past is never really past. This happens on a literal level with, well, the movie being about an undead priest in modern Cairo seeking to recreate a romantic relationship cut short centuries ago. However, the past concerns all the characters in some manner. At the beginning of the film, Helen describes her surroundings as “this dreadful modern Cairo.” Johann’s detached quality gives the character a sense of displacement, as though her heart were elsewhere. Though it’s never explicitly stated within the movie itself, one could almost believe the princess persona was trying to emerge even before Imhotep walks (back) into Helen’s life. Helen’s modern love interest Frank admits he “sort of fell in love with” the ancient Egyptian princess who’s tomb he has helped unearth; he transplants this desire onto the living Helen, the next-best thing to the long-departed princess of his dreams. Helen, Frank, and Imhotep all yearn for the past, for something dead, but only the latter goes to evil extremes to achieve this goal.

Imhotep is such an underrated horror icon and Karloff truly shines as this tragic villain. While he was menacing as the drunk, horny butler Morgan in The Old Dark House, he was a very small part of a larger cast, and The Mummy allows him to take center stage with a worthy follow-up role to the Monster in Frankenstein. Initially appearing as the bandaged, slow-gaited figure we all know from pop cultural osmosis, Imhotep spends the lion’s share of the movie as the tall, imposing wizard who integrates himself into Egyptian society as Ardeth Bey. We never see Imhotep choke the life out of someone or stalk folks in the night. Like a proto-Darth Vader, he is able to strangle his enemies from afar using magic. His intense, glowing stare is uncanny, emphasizing his otherworldly menace and mystery. Yet despite his mystical power and height, Imhotep is physically weak. His face is wrinkled, his body thin; we also learn that his flesh can literally crumble right off his bones because his magic can barely keep him together. While the movie never gets graphic about Imhotep’s decaying body, the suggestion alone is eerie, especially when Helen finds this out for herself. After being grabbed by her one-time-lover, Helen notices that Imhotep’s hand leaves behind ashy residue. All the glamor of “eternal love” vanishes.

Imhotep is at once inhuman and yet deeply human, a guy who’s okay with cold-blooded murder yet seeks nothing more than to be with the only woman he ever loved. When he shows Helen the events of their doomed past life love affair in his mystical pool, there is a muted anguish in his voice. Even more tragic is the comparison between the stiff, aloof Imhotep of the present and the warm, very animated Imhotep of the flashback scenes. In the past, Imhotep kneels before the dying princess and kisses her hand before tenderly bringing it to his face with all the familiarity of a lover. In the present, Imhotep cannot even touch someone without physically falling to pieces. He lives forever, but it’s only a half-life, where even his love is twisted into something possessive and fatal. I have always wondered what Imhotep planned on doing had he succeeded in bringing his princess back; I don’t think he even thought that far. He is a man obsessed with stasis, unable to accept that a life worth living involves change—death is only part of that cycle. He isn’t interested in anything new and cannot come to terms with loss, which traps him in a kind of eternal death rather than eternal life.

The other standout performance comes from Zita Johann as Helen/Princess Ankh-es-en-amon. Johann took on few movie roles and hated Hollywood until she died, but her work in The Mummy is phenomenal, for Helen is one of the most fleshed-out of the Universal horror heroines. No screaming, passive damsel, Helen is a haunted woman, troubled enough to be seeing a psychiatrist regularly (we’re never told why, though her melancholy and obsession with the past provide the audience some good inferences) and smart enough to view Frank’s awkward flirting with healthy though good-natured skepticism. When she first meets Imhotep, she is mesmerized, and I don’t think that only comes from his magic powers. Johann projects a sense of weariness and yearning; she’s someone who wants to be engaged in the modern world and live a full life, but there’s something deep inside holding her back, more than likely the lack of closure from her life in Ancient Egypt. There are few histrionic moments in her performance; like Karloff, she mostly underplays the role, lending Helen a sense of dignity and maturity. She gives the illusion of having an inner life that few other 1930s horror leading ladies possess. She’s also active, fighting back against Imhotep even as she is initially tempted by his promise of eternal love. As much as her heart yearns for the passion they once shared, she’s wise enough to know there is no going back and not just because Imhotep is now an amoral heap of rotting flesh. I don’t want to spoil the film’s climax, but let’s just say, Helen does not lie back and wait for the male characters to rescue her.

I have returned to this movie again and again throughout the years, always hypnotized by its quiet power. Some people find it boring or too slow, but fans are captivated by that tortured love story and the confident, ahead-of-its-time filmmaking on display. The Mummy has been resurrected several times as both proto-slasher schlock and bombastic summer blockbusters, making the original film stand out even more. This is a quiet, slow experience with all the qualities of a dream. The movie wasn’t a success when first released; filmgoers likely expected a quicker pace and more outright scares. Nevertheless, time has mostly been kind to The Mummy (excepting the nasty imperialist overtones) and it remains one of the best horror movies of the classic Hollywood period.

#the mummy #the mummy 1932 #classic horror #classic film #horror #zita johann #boris karloff #karl freund #pre-code hollywood #thoughts #halloween 2017

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demialwrites · 7 years

Text

Don’t Stop Ch 2

Link to AO3 Page

You were sure that you and Genji were in deep shit after what you pulled on the last mission. Your superiors weren't stupid. They knew you were fucking around; you weren't sure if they knew you had been fucking specifically. Which would be bad. You and Genji had a reputation for being professionals, and Genji more so than you. Which is probably what made what you two did so attractive at the time. Considering that, it was a blessing that the chewing out you got was less serious than you anticipated. If you weren't so busy trying to look attentive and respectful, you would have melted to the ground with relief. It was a lot of being a disappointment, etc, etc. No mention of any actual punishment.

The lecture ended. Genji, the man able to be serious on a dime, actually bowed in apology. You were about to roll your eyes, when you spied something odd about Genji's behind. It looked like his modesty plate was missing, because the black material that lined his crotch sported a tiny bulge. You almost choked on your own spit. It was his sex, and you know he didn't just forget to put himself together this morning. He finished the bow quickly, hiding his dirty secret, and you were left confused and aroused.

You seethed quietly in front of your superior. Genji could very well get you guys in actual shit over this. It deserved punishment, and maybe that's exactly what he wanted. The superior got up from their desk and left, dismissing you both. As soon as the door shut behind them, you whispered as loud as you could,

"You! What are you doing?!"

Genji remained facing the direction of his bow, only turning his head 45 degrees towards you.

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't even hide the smugness in your voice. Why is your vagina hanging out? Trying to piss me off? We just got in trouble, and you're pulling this?!"

Your voice got louder and louder as you continued to speak. You couldn't help the glare on your face and the hands on your hips. It was probably playing right into Genji's hands to react like this, which annoyed you even more. He remained calm, however.

"What has you so worked up, Colleague?"

That had you almost hopping mad. You were definitely more than colleagues.

"Over the desk, Slut," you commanded.

You grabbed his arms and dragged him over to said desk, and he let you. This confirmed your suspicions. He wanted this, but you were too worked up to quit now.

"Slut? I'm hurt."

"Like you are," you growled.

He chuckled. He bent forward to rest his hands on the desk, just enough to present his ass and the sensitive flesh that dangled below. You firmly rubbed between his legs, ignoring his pleased hum. You could feel his clit swelling against your fingers in anticipation of your actions. He twisted his upper body around to watch you, purposefully sticking out his butt more. You could almost feel his pleased smile. You stopped your movements. Something more was at play here.

"What's going on?"

"Hmmm?"

He hid his intentions well enough behind his tone that you had to inspect him with your fingertips further, pressing them into his synthetic flesh. It always amazed you how soft it was in comparison to the rest of his body. Not that you minded feeling him up. The idea of doing something naughty in here was growing on you rapidly. You felt something hard where it shouldn't be. You tapped on it with your fingernail.

"What is this?"

Genji resumed facing the desk, revealing nothing. His ribbon fell to hang down next to his neck. You pushed aside the fabric between his legs and dipped your fingers inside him. He was pleasantly warm and wet but unusually loose. Something round and rubbery was inside. You got a grip and gently pulled. Genji took a slow, deep breath as you did so. You slid it out far enough to see that it was one of the bigger dildos Genji owned. It was dark blue and shaped like a real penis, with a nicely rounded head. You stared at it, considering what do to next, and also, you were impressed.

"Did you walk around all day like this?"

Before he could answer, you slammed it back up into his hole, making him lurch forward and call out.

"You think I'm gonna get you off bent over this desk, don't you?"

His fingered clenched and relaxed on the desk as you pulled the dildo out slowly.

"Don't you want to-ah!"

You slammed the toy into him again.

"I do," you admitted, your fingers wandering forward to tease his velvety clit, "but I think I'd prefer if you did it yourself. You got me into this."

He muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

He repeated himself a little louder but still quietly.

"I said, what do you want me to do?"

Genji sounded nervous, which was unusual for him. Or maybe he wasn't nervous.

Then it hit you; he did walk around all day with one of his favourite toys stuffed inside his cunt. It had been rubbing against his insides endlessly, all while hiding it from everyone around him. He must be dying for release right now. You thought you saw him shake a little.

"Kneel on the desk. Right there, where it's clear."

Genji didn't talk back, just climbed on the desk facing away from you and brushed his ribbon back behind him. You reached under and took a firm hold of the bottom of the toy.

"Hand on your clit."

He spread his knees and obeyed, fingers at the ready.

"Go on. Get yourself off."

He slid up and down on the toy slowly at first, but he was already puffing. He didn't even need to steady himself with a hand on the desk. Which was impressive, but he owed you more than that by behaving like such a brat.

"Harder," you commanded, "I know you need it."

He rode the dildo faster, and you had to tighten your grip to hang on to it. You watched Genji's ass bounce and his wet cunt repeatedly swallow the toy when he slammed down on it. He was now moaning softly instead of just breathing. Maybe he was hesitant to make too much noise where people could walk by at any moment.

"If you cum early, I'm leaving you to clean up the mess yourself," you warned.

"But..."

He cut himself off with a frustrated whine.

"What was that? Speak up."

"Almost...finished," he forced out.

Seems he was telling the truth, because he's now arching his back and moaning louder.

Then you heard muffled conversation in the hall.

You made hurried shushing noises and patted at his back. He stopped, settling back on his heels, but he gripped his thigh from the effort, taking his other hand from between his legs. He shrunk forward over the desk, and his feet flexed against the desk.

The conversing strangers lingered outside the door. You two were trying to be as quiet as mice, but a soft hiss started to disturb the silence. The vents on Genji's body were releasing steam. Your turn to be smug, because you knew he couldn't help it, like someone losing control of their bladder and pissing themselves. It happened involuntarily. In that instant, you changed your mind. If you were going to be caught, you were going to be caught. You might as well go for it.

You pumped the dildo as fast and as hard as you could, forcing the air out of Genji's lungs. It caught him by surprise, and he came. His knees scraped outward against the desk, and his upper body writhed in the air above it. He was doing his very best to keep any noise in. You stopped pumping when you were sure it was over.

He slumped forward, his hands on his knees.

"Hmph."

He was indignant, shifting around into a more comfortable, seated position.

"You started this," you shot back.

"That is a juvenile response."

"Who is the one leaking green cum all over the desk?"

"Touché," he admitted.

#genji x reader #cunt!genji #gender neutral reader #smut #my shit

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bizarre-smiles · 7 years

Text

some issues/future (a long ass essay you don't have to read it. Its here for me to remember that it happened)

i wont be really detailed so it gets confusing af but take a look if you wanna have a glimpse of how weird my life has become and why i did not go visit a psychiatrist or something earlier. i also kind of want to write this so i don’t forget this sort of. it is also to somehow make some sense out of my life and my identity.

i really have trouble communicating with people in real life. i somehow either don’t understand what people are saying and its incredibly hard for me to just reply them back so i will WILL always hear things like “why are you so moody?” or “why are you so quiet?” etc.

i always had sudden emotional outbursts, though they aren’t really that clear to me. i can’t remember the last time i cried but it was actually quite recent and i would think that i didn’t cry for years.

i would talk to my friends (my last few remaining ones who didn’t leave), they would urge me to go to a doctor. Which i didn’t for quite a long time. If i have to a period of time for how long this lasted, it will be at least 5 years or more? (still counting, i actually never really thought about it).

First few years was really mild, i showed signs of what i believed it will be borderline personality disorder and of course depression. What came next was an eating disorder, which i lost about close to 10 kg? in a short amount of time (that i can’t remember). i can remember that i looked skinny, really pale and ugly as hell when i sat next to a really REALLY pretty girl. i pretty much did not eat at all that day. probably.

some miracle happened and i healed (kind of, not really completely). many many shit happened and i made many more stupid decisions and shit. it was in the second year of middle school (i had 4 years of mid school), things really went spiraling down because i started seeing/hearing things (i think i was still having eating disorder at that time). and like most people with eating disorders, this person i started seeing fueled my eating disorder and the next thing i know i’m talking to this person.

(*take note im taking a pov of my original self for the sake of it being less complicated. yes ‘original self’ i will get to that later)

but thing didn’t stop there. 2 more people appeared, so now there are 3 people im talking to. after i decided to start eating again, they kind of disappeared but lingered somewhere in my mind.

so 3rd year! things are better but still kind of sucked. i had severe inferiority complex, so my eating disorder came to bite me back a few times and it didn’t helped that i had friends who had a good figure. Past me cut them out of my life, i had one friend who affected me a lot, i like her maybe that was why i couldn’t stand her. My desire to die, since the start of the 5 years, really increased. remember when i said about the lingering people in my mind? 2 remained and my hallucinations of them really increased, to the point that it would scare the shit out of me, like i see someone jumping of the building or i could feel someone hugging/comforting me. (the first one who had to do with my eating disorder, i dont think they really came back)

the increased hallucinations were during my last year of middle school. and during that last year, panic attacks started coming as well. when i hallucinated seeing someone, and yea i panicked and i did not stop until i hurt myself and shit. one time, i bruised my wrist really badly from hitting it with a rubber band and let me tell you, i don’t bruise easily.

time skip (one year later i think? which is the present year 2017), i took a vacation overseas with a group of friends. something triggered me really badly and it was the lowest point in my life. i had to be isolated then sent home due to something i did.

okay here is where it gets weird and depressing. i don’t really know how to explained but here goes. the original self did not come back with the body. remember the 2 people? one of them took over and at that time they were the more prominent personality, lets give it a name: emi. Yes, the me right now relaying this to you, (might) is an alternate personality of the original

[please actually take this with a grain of salt because i’m still actually very confused what has happened but all i can say is that i am not the original personality/person whatever you might say that i am but i have evidence (i guess) to prove that i am not]

present time (‘i’ is as emi)

remember the other one? it is now called lily (spider lily for short), it resurfaced and is now emi’s companion. One more was created for quite a while now and she is called abel. i don’t like to call them personalities, i hate it they are more like friends due to the lack of them i have in my new school. but when they take over, lily’s rage and hatred really chokes me and abel’s child like happiness and ‘not so innocent’ innocent self overwhelms me. [i like to think that the original had a better control of the people in her mind.]

i really don’t know where i am going with this but my parents are finally Finally bringing me to the psychiatrist after so many years (they didn’t think it was that bad and they tried to solve it themselves). i’m really afraid, i want to talk about it with my very small number of in real life friends i have left more but then i will remember that i told them recently (even though i felt like i haven’t done so in a long long time. i would probably keep thinking like that if i did not think very very hard about it), so i didn’t. lily and abel are my emotional support, while my original refuses to come back. i think they are way more alters in my mind but not prominent enough for me to name them.

my sense of identity is a mess. i’m actually not very sure who is typing right now. i call myself emi right now. okay yes its me emi.

[random: abel tells me she really really loves our pillow which is a daily abel thing]

#personal #mental illness #mental disorder #don't rb

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hager2121 · 7 years

Text

Haunted

MAN: Average guy, 30s; wears jeans, a tshirt, hoodie.Never changes.

WOMAN: Pretty, 30s but ages; she wears a simple outfit, but adds sweaters and glasses and jacket, etc., to show time shift

STEVEN: 40s, looks like an accountant. Dresses like one. Wears khakis and a dress shirt

ACT I

Scene 1

SETTING: A street.

LIGHTS OUT: “Clair de Lune” by Claude DeBussy plays while lights are out

AT RISE: WOMAN sits on floor stage right, on her knees. MAN squats in front of her, his head near hers. She looks up, as if she is talking to him. MAN reacts to what she is saying. WOMAN never reacts to MAN.

WOMAN

(Laughing, smiling) Can you believe he’d say that? I was stunned! No one else laughed, but I thought it was hysterical. I almost died in the middle of the staff meeting! It’s not just me, right? You see it, too?

MAN

(Laughing, too.) Of course. That’s crazy.

WOMAN

I knew you’d get it. (Smiles.) You always understand my sense of humor.

MAN

What’s not to get? You’re smart. Funny. You always make me laugh. Plus you’re never mean-spirited. You’re easily the nicest person I’ve ever known.

WOMAN

(Excited.) I think about how we met all the time. God, that was so random. I didn’t even like coffee back then. Don’t know why I stopped in. Talk about luck. Did I ever tell you, I told Lucy about you when I got to class, and she said you probably just hung out there every day, waiting to meet girls? She was certain you were a creep! She tried to convince me you used the same routine on everyone you met, but I defended you.

MAN

I never liked Lucy.

WOMAN

(Almost same time) I know you never liked Lucy! (Laughs.)

MAN

(Laughs. Stands. Pauses.) I miss you. I hate being apart. I never wanted it to be this way.

I hope you know.

WOMAN

(Pauses. Looks down.) This really sucks. … I don’t blame you for anything, but I HATE this. Hate that I feel this way. I wake up every morning hoping it’s just a bad dream and that you’ve come home. I’ve been trying to stay strong with everything, all the changes. I know you want that. But it’s too much most of the time. I’m not sure I can keep going.

MAN

Don’t say that …

WOMAN

… I know I have to, but it’s hard. You’re everywhere I look these days, even when I know you aren’t.

MAN looks down at WOMAN. Not sure what to say. WOMAN looks at ground. Long silence. Finally WOMAN reaches into purse, pulls out flowers. MAN stands up. WOMAN places flowers on the ground in front of her. Talks to the ground.

WOMAN

I love you. Know that. Please. And I always will. No matter what. You’re forever in my heart, in my thoughts. I just hope, wherever you are, you know I’m still here; I won’t let you go. (She does sign of cross. Stands up, exits stage right. MAN watches.)

MAN moves center stage; he always talks to the audience, unless addressing a specific character. Stage is bare except for something indicating a street. Potted plant or something.

MAN

I died two months ago. I was 34. I try not to let it get me down. (laughs) … Some people don’t live as long. Some people live way longer but never really live at all.

I was lucky. One second I was there, the next I wasn’t. A flash. A moment. That was all it took. It didn’t hurt. Dying was painless. Like … stepping into a warm bath. One foot in, and half the work’s done. The rest is just letting go.

I make that sound easy, but “letting go” is the hard part. You spend your life kicking and screaming. It’s crammed with taxes and bad Thai food and fear and angst and worry. It’s a life spent dreading the next morning – then suddenly there are no more mornings. And all you want is just one more. You finally get the meaning of all this once it’s taken from you. You realize that life is … pretty damn great. The world’s beautiful. Memories are forever.

That’s the gut punch: I still … feel. It’s a reflex, if nothing else. Emotions aren’t the same anymore. Love. Loneliness. Despair. They’re still there, but they’re echoes -- familiar but not as strong. Faint. I guess those echoes are what keep me here … and why I can’t move on.

(Time shift. Whenever there is a time shift, MAN freezes, standing, always at center, upstage, while all move around him. Lights should be dimmed. Set pieces should change position. But he doesn’t move.)

MAN

I saw her again. She was like a ghost. I get the irony of that. But, still, that’s what she felt like. She was a memory in flesh. Something distant and tangible but … definitely not real.

(WOMAN appears. She has her head down. Carrying a cup of coffee. She has on sunglasses, so you can’t see her eyes. She freezes while he talks.)

MAN

It had been weeks since I last saw her, not since I’d left the cemetery. I had been wandering around, visiting my past, but I had been mainly avoiding going home. That’s when I saw her. She was crossing the street from the coffee shop where we first met.

(WOMAN unfreezes. Walks toward MAN. Freezes again as she gets to him at center stage. MAN turns to look at her.)

MAN

She was walking fast, lost in her thoughts that way she always was. I tried to say hello.

(WOMAN stays frozen. MAN leans down, as if to talk to her. Waves hands in front of her face)

MAN

“Stop. Let’s talk. It’s me!” (MAN turns back to audience) It was an impulse. I knew it wouldn’t work. She couldn’t hear me anymore. But … I did it anyway.

(Turns back to WOMAN. Still frozen.) She looked sad, lost. Any hope she had the last time I saw her was gone. The weeks had been hard, I could tell. I knew her. Knew that look. I caused her a lot of pain when I was alive, and it didn’t stop when I died.

(WOMAN unfreezes. MAN looks at her. She takes sip of coffee, walks past him downstage. Moves to exit, turns, looks over her shoulder in direction of MAN, freezes.)

MAN

She hesitated for a moment, a split second. I felt it. Maybe it was a reaction. A small one. But I knew it was something. I could tell how much it hurts. For both of us.

(Lights dim. Time shift. MAN freezes center stage. Potted plant moves to other side of stage to indicate scene shift. A mailbox or something moves on to indicate a street.)

MAN

I came back to our house. Where we lived. I didn’t want to go, but I was drawn there. I held out as long as I could, walking the streets, lost. Six months. Maybe seven. I didn’t know.

(MAN looks up, past audience.)

MAN

I spent days on the lawn, looking up at the house, fighting the urge to go through the door. She left and came back, every day, but I stood there, immobile. I just stared at the dancing lights inside, trapped in the past AND the present. Time meant nothing anymore. Today and tomorrow and yesterday are all the same to me. The memories are still fresh.

(WOMAN appears stage right. Her hair is pulled back. She looks younger. Holding two coffees. MAN walks over to her.)

WOMAN

(Looks at cups, offering him one.) I think this is yours. … My name’s not “Pete.”

MAN

Neither is mine. (Laughs. Examines cup.) But, yeah, this my drink. Thanks. They’re, uh, not very good here.

WOMAN

I agree. It’s like they’re trying to be bad.

MAN

(Excited.) I know! And they’re SOOOO good at it.

WOMAN

Right? The coffee stinks. The ONLY thing they’re good at is being horrible at their jobs.

MAN

(Laughs.) If they sold “Bad Customer Service” here instead of coffee, they’d have lines around the corner.

(WOMAN laughs, touches his arm with her hand. Freezes. MAN pauses. Stares at her. Sits coffee down. Turns. Walks back center stage, addresses audience.)

MAN

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. Not true. All I saw was the FREAKING stairs. Then the ceiling. Then I was dead and standing there, looking down at myself. But ever since, the past has been all around me, floating by. Every memory. Every moment.

(WOMAN sits down coffee, walks to MAN. She grabs his hand. MAN closes eyes.)

WOMAN

You promise you aren’t peeking!?

MAN

I swear! (Woman waves hand in front of his face.)

WOMAN

OK. … Because if you are, I’ll take it back, (She leads him by hands, down stage right) Allright. Open!

MAN

(MAN looks off stage right, into the audience, overwhelmed.) Wait, what is this? How could you afford ...

WOMAN

Don’t get too excited; I wish I could buy you one. I just borrowed it from a guy I work with for a few days. But I thought we could go up the coast for the weekend. You know, cruise with the top down; you can be James Dean, and I’ll be Natalie Wood.

MAN

(MAN smiles big, a little overcome, puts arm around her and pulls her tight.) I … don’t know what to say. I mean, wow. This is the best birthday I ever had. Seriously. (Looks at her, holds her head in his hands.) God, you’re awesome. I don’t deserve you.

(She puts her head on his shoulder, and freezes. MAN turns to talk to audience.)

MAN

Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes when you die. No. That would be easy. A flash is quick. Instead, your life tortures you. It chokes you. It taunts you, as real as when it first happened. Your life lingers like a shadow you can’t shake.

(WOMAN unfreezes, pull back from his shoulder. She leads MAN center stage, holds his hand. She looks out, above audience, at the house MAN was looking at.)

WOMAN

You sure about this?

MAN

Yes. 100 percent.

WOMAN

Because it doesn’t have to be this one. I don’t want you to think …

MAN

Will you stop? (He turns looking at her.) THIS is the house. We both agree. OK? Not the next one or the one before. This. One. Let’s just do it.

WOMAN

But it costs so much. We will be paying until we’re …

MAN

So? Look, I love you. I love this house. I want this to be ours. For us. For the family we haven’t started yet. We won’t regret this moment. But if we say no, we will. I know it.

(WOMAN smiles, leans up, kisses MAN. She freezes. MAN pulls away, walks upstage, addresses audience.)

MAN

They say the past makes sense with time and distance. But that’s all I have now, and I … just … feel lost. Angry. Frustrated. I can’t move on, and I can’t be present. So I wallow in the pain of yesterday, caught in this slowly simmering sea of rage from which I can’t seem to escape.

(Time shift. MAN freezes as people move around him. Lights dim. Plant moves offstage or into corner. We’re inside the house now. Couch moves on stage to center. Side table with framed photo of couple on it.)

MAN

I stood on the lawn as long as I could. I tried to stay out. But then, just like that, I was inside.

(MAN looks around, walks to edges of stage as if looking in adjacent rooms.)

MAN

(Points offstage right.) That’s where we slept. (Points offstage center.) That’s where we made dinner. (Looks at couch.) That’s where I proposed to her. (Looks out at audience, stage left, points) That’s where I fell and broke my neck and died instantly. (WOMAN enters with mail. She is back to original age. Stands stage right. Shuffles through mail as MAN talks.) And that’s where she found me, hours later. She cradled me and cried until she had no more tears.

(Time shift. Lights dim. MAN freezes center stage. WOMAN sits on couch with TV remote. Silently clicks through channels.)

MAN

(MAN moves to couch, looks at WOMAN.) I sit next to her. She doesn’t know I’m here, but I watch her. I watch her while she sleeps, too. Cooks. Cleans. Whenever she’s home, I’m by her side. Waiting. Hoping she feels me here.

(Turns to look at photo on table next to him. Would grab it, but he can’t.) She still has our photos all around. Even the newest ones are already old and fading. I’m surrounded by memories of me, more reminders of the past.

WOMAN

(Picks up her cell. MAN listens.) Hey Lucy. … I’m good. Just watching TV. … Yeah, I thought about it. I don’t know. … I know … I know, you’re right, but … (long pause) OK. Fine! (teasing) If it’ll get you to shut up.

(Time shift. Lights dim. WOMAN exits. MAN center. Freezes until lights up.)

MAN

She went on a date tonight, almost two years after I died. Lucy set it up. The guy took her to a decent restaurant across town. I went, too. (Pause.) It was the first time I’d left the house since I came back to it. The whole night, I felt it trying to pull me back, but I fought it.

I could tell she didn’t like this guy. There was no spark. Not like with us. I say I want her to move on. I want her to be happy. To have love again. … But I also don’t. Not really.

(Time shift. Lights dim. MAN back at center. Frozen. WOMAN and STEVEN enter. They sit on couch. Talking. Wine on table. STEVEN holds her hand. Lights come up.)

MAN

(Walks to behind couch. STEVEN and WOMAN talk silently to each other. Laugh. Smile.) She has seen Steven eight times. He’s the latest guy. It’s been three years since I died. She’s dated several men in the last year, but he’s the only one who has stuck around.

STEVEN

… and then Brad said, “No, not that one, I said the BIG one!” (Both laugh.)

WOMAN

Wait, is Brad the one I met? The one with the poodle?

STEVEN

No. No. I mean, yes. Wait. No. (laughs) Sorry. That was Brad Johnson. I’m talking about Brad Phillips. He’s the one who … (go back to talking silently)

MAN

Steven is a nice guy. He works in an accounting office. Maybe he owns it. I don’t know. He always seems happy, and he’s kind to her. She likes him, a lot. He likes her. I can tell. None of that makes this easier.

I knew she’d find another man ... I just didn’t want her to find a better one.

STEVEN

(holds her hand) … so what do you think? Have you ever wanted to go to the Bahamas?

WOMAN

Yes. ... I mean, of course I’ve wanted to go. But I don’t think I can afford that right now.

STEVEN

(Waves her off.) Don’t be silly. It’s my treat! You just need to bring a bathing suit and sunscreen, I’ll take care of the rest. I’ve been wanting to go there for years, so I already have it all planned.

WOMAN

I don’t know, I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t at least pay for …

STEVEN

No. Nothing! Baby, you hardly ever leave this house. And when you do, it’s not for long. Let me take you away from here. Far away. Where there’s sun and frozen drinks and no … past for either of us. OK? (Smiles.) You’d be doing me a favor: I’m a freaking accountant! I never get to impress hot women!

WOMAN smiles, thinks about it and nods Yes.

MAN

I hardly ever get alone time with her. Sometimes, she stays out all night. (Shows anger for first time.) I rage and spin and fight the darkness building inside of me. (Looks at them.) I feel guilty for being angry and angry for feeling guilty. She needs him. Deserves him. But, still, (leans down so his head is between theirs, as they continue to silently talk, oblivious) I’m right here. (screams) RIGHT HERE!

(Time shift. Lights dim. MAN returns back to center, frozen. STEVEN and WOMAN move stage right. Hold hands and look at each other, smiling.)

WOMAN

Yes! (Throws her arms around STEVEN. STEVEN hugs her tight.)

MAN

(Not looking at couple, talking to audience) They’re getting married. He is moving into OUR house in the suburbs with the picket fence and the dog and the garage. The house we picked out and made 22 payments on before I died.

(Seethes, but under the surface. Tries to remain calm.) Now he will cut the grass and clean the kitchen and put up the Christmas tree. He will have MY life, and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it. He will sleep in my bed and be with my wife, and I’ll just be a tourist. A visitor. (MAN looks at couple.)

STEVEN

I’m so lucky. You’re easily the nicest person I’ve ever known. (Pulls back, looks at WOMAN.) I love you, so much.

WOMAN

(Pauses. Smiles.) I love you, too. (They kiss.)

MAN

(Quiet. Dejected.) Why am I still here? This is just torture.

(Time shift. MAN freezes. Back to center stage. Couple leaves. Couch is moved back, either to the side or against the wall. Flowers are placed stage left. WOMAN enters wearing something dark, either a costume change or a sweater. She kneels in front of flowers, staring down. She is upset.)

MAN

(MAN stands behind her. Looking at her. Looming.) I visited my grave today. She went, so I did, too. I’d not been outside in years. It wasn’t easy ... leaving. The pull from the house was unbearable. I fear this will be the last time I ever get to leave.

WOMAN

I’m sorry I don’t visit as much anymore. I’ve tried to find the time, but it’s not easy. … God, I feel guilty … like I’ve let you down … but then I tell myself you’d want me to move on. You only ever wanted me to be happy. But, still, I can’t help but miss you.

MAN

It was the first time in ages she’d spoken to me. When I first came back home, she talked to me all the time when she was alone. But that ended when she met Steven.

WOMAN

… you would like him. He’s a nice guy. (Pauses) I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to hear all this. But I felt like I should tell you. … I never thought this would be where I was at this point of my life, with someone else. I’m sorry for …

MAN

(Angry, turns to audience. WOMAN talks silently.) I tried to tell her I didn’t want her to marry Steven, but nothing came out. I tried to say I wasn’t ready for this, but I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I just stood there, wishing I was IN the grave, not standing on it.

(Time shift. Couch back in center. Picture of MAN and WOMAN is gone from side table. Replaced with STEVEN and WOMAN. MAN moves back to center, frozen. STEVEN on couch, lying down, with blanket. Wears wedding ring. Book on his chest as if he was reading and fell asleep. Lights up.)

MAN

(Moves to behind couch.) I’ve gotten stronger. I can do things now. I use my anger in ways I never knew I could. … Sometimes, when Steven is sleeping, I stand over him and try to choke him. (Leans down, looks angry. Hands hover near STEVEN’S neck.) It doesn’t always work.

(STEVEN coughs loudly, sits up. Breathes deep, struggles.)

MAN

(Stands back up. Pleased. Smiles.) But sometimes it does. Sometimes he wakes up coughing and sputtering. (WOMAN enters, wearing a robe. She comes to STEVEN’S side and puts her arm around him.) She always comforts him, but I don’t care. I feel great. Really … great. Like I accomplished something.

(Time shift. Lights dim. STEVEN and WOMAN leave. MAN is standing center stage. Addresses audience.)

MAN

In the kitchen, I’ve learned to smash plates and glasses and open cabinets. It scares them both, but it’s the only way I can express myself. (STEVEN and WOMAN enter stage right. They look worried. He puts his arm around her, consoling her. MAN walks toward them, hovers near them. Angry. Hatred in his eyes.) I’m always jealous, always seething ... like a monster. I barely remember who I used to be.

(Time shift. Lights dim. MAN back to center. Frozen. STEVEN leaves. WOMAN exits, comes back, looking older. Maybe a streak of grey in her hair. Shows age. Sits on couch, hands in lap. Looks worried and a little angry.)

MAN

(To audience.) She hired someone to do a seance. But I was still there. She had a priest bless the house. But I was still there. They put up cameras, just like those ghost hunting shows on TV … but they saw nothing. And I was still there. I’d tormented them with my rage for years, and I couldn’t see an end. It was like a faucet I couldn’t turn off.

WOMAN

(Angry, voice shaking.) I know you can hear me.

MAN

(Startled, turns looks at her.) She said my name for the first time in ages. I was … startled. Not just because it had been so long since I heard my name, but because I had never heard her say it with such … venom. (He walks to her, sits next to her. She does not look at him.)

WOMAN

I know it’s you. I didn’t want to believe it. But I’m not a fool. Steven knows it’s you, too, but he hasn’t said it. … (Gathers herself.) I want you to listen to what I’m saying: (anger in her voice) You HAVE to go. LEAVE US ALONE! Leave ME alone. Do you HEAR me? What do I need to say to make you stop? That I don’t LOVE you anymore? This isn’t your home anymore! … Why are you doing this? (voice fading.) Please ...

MAN

(To audience) For the first time in years, I felt something … other than anger. (Woman breaks down, sobbing, head in hands. MAN stands up, moves back to center stage.) It was ... compassion. Shame. Remorse. Guilt. All my emotions came back to me, like a reflex, bursting through at once. It was overwhelming. Seeing her like that and knowing I was the cause … it was a reminder. I used to be human. I used to love something other than my own pain.

So I stopped. No smashing things. No violence. I bottled the rage. I locked it away, like a secret. I’d see them, and I’d see Steven and I’d want to scream and throw things and choke him until he was blue in the face. … But I didn’t. (Looks at woman.) I loved her, and I was determined not to forget this time.

But I was still … here.

(Lights dim. MAN returns to center stage, frozen. MAJOR time shift. Play “Clair de Lune” as lights down to indicate drastic time change? WOMAN returns, wearing a shawl or cardigan. Her hair is grey now. She is an old woman. She hunches over. Brings a tea cup and sits on couch, drinking. Lights up.)

MAN

(MAN moves back to couch. Sits beside her. Looks at her.) I’ve been dead longer than I was alive. The woman I loved, the youth and vitality, have slowly slipped away. (Reaches out to her. She doesn’t notice.) She’s still beautiful, just not the same. Steven is old, too. I’ve watched their lives unfold for decades now. Whatever I tried to do to stop it just made their love stronger.

(STEVEN appears stage right. He is frail, hunched over. Maybe wearing a cardigan. He gestures to her, with a slight smile. She slowly gets up, moves toward him. He grabs her hand and walks her off stage; they’re happy. Time shift. Lights dim. MAN returns, center stage. Frozen.)

MAN

I’m a distant memory. A flickering image. A chill that barely gives you pause.

I will lose her soon. Her health has declined, just like Steven’s did before he passed. I was there when it happened. She cried for him more than she did for me. And when SHE dies, so will I. Again. Any love for me that she clings to will vanish. Then what? I want desperately to move on. But I can’t. What happens to a memory when there’s no one left to remember it?

(Time shift. Lights dim. MAN returns to center. WOMAN enters, holding STEVEN’s hand. They are both young again. They talk silently as lights come up. They stand stage right and dance and laugh. He holds her. They are happy.)

MAN

(MAN does not look at them. He talks to audience.) I don’t know where they are now that they’ve died, but I’m sure they’re together. Steven was her true love, not me. I watched him devote his life to her for 37 years, with a depth and understanding I could not fathom.

(Couple continues to dance.) I’m all alone in this suburban tomb, and I realize that the thing that kept me here all these years was … ME. Not her. Not Steven. I was a ghost, yes, but I haunted myself. I wanted to stay. Pain was my excuse. I warped and twisted my love into an anchor that kept me tethered to this life.

(WOMAN laughs. MAN notices, looks at them for first time.) I was a supporting character in her life -- I moved the story forward. I was an anecdote in THEIR love story. (Lights go out completely. Stage is dark.) All this hits me in the darkness of our old house, long after it’s too late to fix the pain I caused.

In the end, I became a monster that refused to let go long after she needed me to. I felt entitled to my anger, instead of grateful for her love. I lingered far too long.

(Spotlight comes up. Stage is empty and black except for warm glow of spot. MAN smiles, looks relieved for first time.) I accept my mistakes, and I release the anguish. The hurt. The self loathing. The memories. I let go of her, for the first time since I died. I feel the flood of the past cease, and I’m just here. Present. The chains snap, and I’m free.

(Looks up, toward spotlight. Shields his eyes.) The light’s distant but warm. It comforts me. I’m filled with love and grace. The brightness calls to me, and I answer it, free from the shadows. I’m not frightened or alone. I’m at peace, excited to see what’s next.

Whatever it is, I hope there’s love. (Lights out.)

END

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