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bandgie · 1 month

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On Your Knees Pt.2

ONE | TWO

synopsis: They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but this one seems eager for a treat.

warnings! MDNI 18+, fem!reader, incel!seungmin, pussy eating/fingering, PIV (raw), edging (m!), blue balls, multiple orgasms (f!), dom reader (kinda), banter, prolly more that I missed lol

3.1k words

Seungmin doesn't think there'll be any way for him to live how he has been. Even the friends he spends time with hardly compare to the time he spends on the bathroom floor eating you out. Embarrassingly enough, it's all he can think about. Even as the podcast he's watching blares through his headphones, he can barely make out what they're saying.

Something about how it's submissive for a man to eat pussy. How demeaning the act is for a man to do. Yet, Seungmin questions the validity of what these so-called 'alpha' men are saying. Is it truly so terrible to have the taste of a cunt on your lips? To suck and lick on such a delicious flower?

He shuts his computer off, ripping the headphones by the wire to hone in on his conclusions.

Okay so maybe this is normal. Seungmin's a big boy; it makes sense that he would eat pussy sooner or later. And if he liked it, that's also fine. He's a man, after all, it makes more sense to like giving girls head than to hate it.

Just as long as he doesn't try to reach out to you. Now that would be submissive of him. And if there's anything Seungmin is dead set on, it's that he is not submissive.

But days after not seeing you with Han, days of not getting a taste of the pussy that has him whipped has him doing things he's sworn not to do. He found your number, he texted you, and he's going over your house on your conditions.

He's so fucked.

It's too late to turn back by the time he's at your front door. Seungmin only waits a few seconds before the door swings open. He's seen you about a dozen times, but it's the first time he's felt his heart swoop at the sight of you. He reasons it's just because you're in a t-shirt.

"Oh wow," you take a step back and look at him up and down, somewhat in disbelief. "I can't believe you actually came."

Seungmin can't find it in himself to believe he came here on his own violation either. "Whatever," he shivers from the cold, night air. "Are you gonna let me in or what?"

You take a step aside to make room, "Since you asked so nicely."

Seungmin takes awkward steps into your apartment, noting the cozy setup and simple plants littered in your living space. His fingertips run on the soft material of the couch, pulling on the loose threads automatically.

You walk past him, taking a seat on your couch and reaching for the remote. "I was just about to put something on," you turn and look up at him. "Come on."

Tentatively, Seungmin walks around the sofa to you. Just before he takes his seat, you click your tongue. "Nope. On the floor." You point to the space between your legs. Seungmin hands close and open, unsure what to make of the situation. You sigh and loll your head to the side, looking at him unamused. "You gonna sit down or what?"

Seungmin glowers at you, "I am. You don't need to be such as ass about it." He grumbles a little more before bending down and crossing his legs to face the TV. "Nope, wrong way," you twirl your finger in a circular motion to indicate him to face you instead.

He looks at you confused, "But you said we were gonna put something on." You shake your head at him, "No. I said I'm gonna put something on. I never said anything about you." A hint of red begins to show on Seungmin's face, but before he has the chance to most likely curse you, you spread your legs.

You can practically see the words die in Seungmin's throat at the sight of your bare cunt. He acts before he can think, twisting his body fully and gripping the underside of your thighs to spread you further. It's better than he remembers.

"This is why you came, right?" You look down at him. "Missed the taste of this pussy?"

Seungmin licks his lips, nodding mindlessly. Something about taste and pussy, but he understood nonetheless. His tongue pokes out, but you grip his hair and yank him upwards. Seungmin whines, like an animal tore away from his meal, but you ignore it. "You're just here to make me feel good, got it? You don't get to cum, only I do. Do you understand?"

You have to shake his head to force an answer out of him. "Yes yes yes." He shifts anxiously in your hold. "Only you. I'll make you feel good."

Despite his desperation, you smile. "Good boy. Go ahead."

The moment your grip loosens, Seungmin latches onto your core. It's soft, it's warm, it's good. He moans into your cunt, inhaling through his nose and he dips his tongue between your folds. It's only been days since he's tasted you, but it feels far too long. How could he go a single minute without tasting you? Getting that sticky arousal on his lips so the taste could mingle in his mouth the entire day? Seungmin puckers his lips and kisses your cunt, a thank you for introducing him to a whole new world.

Your fingers mindlessly click on the buttons of the remote as you try and find a show. You keep switching back and forth between options, clicking random buttons until you accidentally set the caption to a different language. One of your hands pet the top of Seungmin's head, pushing back his hair and twirling it in your fingers.

His tongue slides down until it catches your entrance, barely prodding it until he slides it back up to your clit. He swirls your bud in his mouth, sucking and licking until your hips buck. "Shit," you breathe. "You really missed my pussy, huh?"

Seungmin opens his eyes to look up at you. He turns his head sideways to place your clit in his mouth, flicking your clit rapidly. That's as much of an answer as you're getting, but it does the job. He lifts his head back up and sucks harshly, pulling on your sensitive flesh before releasing it. You shiver and moan, feeling your arousal drip onto the couch that you'll make him clean up later.

"Fuck yes," your grip tighten on his hair. "Finger me." Seungmin leans back and uses his hands to rub your pussy. His fingers rub and swirl around your core until they're drenched. He trails them down until they catch your entrance, pushing his middle and ring finger in.

You throw the remote on the couch and grip the cushions. The stretch is slight, but his fingers are long. They reach much deeper than you could ever do yourself, and you let out a loud moan when they finally settle all the way inside. Seungmin pumps you slowly, getting used to how your walls pulse and clench around him. He watches as your cunt swallows his fingers. His cock throbs in his pants.

"Shiiit," you throw your head back onto the headrest. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

That's all he's ever wanted. Seungmin places his mouth back onto your clit where his tongue flattens against your cunt. He moves his head up and down while thrusting his fingers in and out. Both of your hands are tugging on his hair, pulling and pushing him away.

"Already?" He pulls away for a moment to speak. "Didn't think you'd be this easy, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised." A devilish smile appears on his lips as you lift your head to look at him. You wish you could come up with a snide remark, but your head starting to feel fuzzy and all you can focus on is how close you are.

You push his head back to your pussy and wrap your legs around his body, locking him in. "I'll make you regret saying that."

Seungmin laughs into your cunt, happy that he succeeded in pissing you off. Now that he's pushed against you, it's a little difficult to finger you as rapidly, but you rather like the shallow thrusts. It gives you more to clench down on and ride while he licks your clit. You buck your hips and ride his face inelegantly. The first hints of your orgasm build in your stomach, making your body feel unbelievably warm as your hips stutter.

"Fuck," you rasp. "Imma cum." You blink a few times and lazily smile at him, "Did you miss the taste of that too?"

As an answer, Seungmin buries himself so deep into you that his nose is pressed against your clit. The extra texture is enough to send you over the edge, creaming on his fingers and twitching in his mouth. He happily gulps down your arousal, slipping his fingers out to replace them with his tongue instead.

You just taste so good. Seungmin is delightfully reminded of how it felt to swallow you for the first time, how the taste settled on his tastebuds. His tongue scoops out the white cream your pussy flooded out and spreads it on your clit before licking it back up again.

He hums, shoving his cum-stained fingers when you finally release him from your hold.

Seungmin wants it again. His hands splay over your thighs to spread them. After all, it's you who gets to cum. It's only fair he makes sure you can as much as possible. But before his tongue has the chance to find its rightful place in your pussy, you snap your legs shut.

He looks up at you like a wounded dog, "Hey! Open them back up!"

Seungmin isn't sure what he's expecting to see, but it definitely isn't how you look right now. Flushed with a heaving chest, eyes that are wide and full of arousal, and a cheeky smile on your bitten lips. He's reminded of how pretty you actually are.

"Get up," you snap him out of his thoughts. "Take off your pants too."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Seungmin rises from his aching knees and fumbles with his belt. He unties it quickly before undoing the top of his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers. You gasp, eyes locking with his cock for the first time.

"Holy shit," you slap a hand over your mouth. He's hard. His cock is red at the tip, leaking with so much precum you think he's had to stain his underwear. You can almost see it twitching from lack of attention, begging to be touched.

Seungmin smiles, grabbing the base and squeezing it. "You like it, huh?" It's not easy to take your gaze off his length to look into his eyes instead. The sight of him has you aching to be filled. Your pussy clenches around nothing, but you keep your nose upturned, "It's alright."

He scoffs, but the smile never fades. You widen your legs and welcome him, watching as he gets into a half-squat position to angle his cock towards your entrance. Seungmin rubs his tip over your sensitive clit. When it catches your nub, you jolt. You wrap your legs around him and bring him closer. He does it again, this time pressing the head of his cock down to apply pressure.

You reason he's doing this on purpose. Making your pussy squelch and your hips jolt to try and get him inside. As much as you hate to admit it, he's good with his dick. Teasing you by slowly dragging the fat of his head down your slit, slapping his tip and your wet cunt. You're annoyingly reminded of what he said days ago; 'I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to.'

The words echo in your mind and you scrunch your nose. "God, fuck! Stop pissing me off and put it in already."

For a moment, you think he's going to defy you. His tip trails lower and lower until it's against your entrance. Seungmin steadies his cock at the base and pushes forwards, barely spreading you open. "Didn't think I'd ever hear you begging for my cock," he smiles at you teasingly. "You were being such a feminist the other day. What happened?"

Not-so-nice words begin to form in your head and before you get the chance to spew them out, Seungmin pushes all the way in. His cock stretches you out more than you anticipated, and it's whines that leave your lips instead. He doesn't give you the chance to adjust as he pulls nearly all the way, save for his tip, before slamming back in. Your entire body jolts and you whimper again.

Your pussy can't keep up with his pace, but you hardly mind the pain. It blurs into white pleasure that burns hot in your cunt.

"You hear that?" Seungmin pants through his thrusts. "That's the sound of your pussy getting fucked by an...what was it again? An incel?" He laughs as your eyes darken with anger, seething with a type of emotion you're not too familiar with.

You reach out the grip his wrist that's placed on the side of the couch, digging your nails into his flesh. Seungmin hardly notices the pain, his teeth shining in his shit-eating smile.

The words are stuck in your throat. You want no more than to tell Seungmin how much of an ass he is, that his cock is merely adequate, but you can't. Every drag of his length rubs against your walls deliciously. You can practically feel every vein on him as he fucks you raw. He makes your hot pussy even hotter and he, unfortunately for you, keeps dragging his cock against that sweet spot deep inside you.

"You," a breath from you, "are a dick."

Strangely enough, your words seem to spur him on more. He tears his hand from your iron grip to place them both under your hips. Seungmin angles your hips upwards and drives forward, shoving his cock unbelievably deeper. Your hands shoot up to your face, trying to block all sounds of pleasure, but Seungmin can hear them. He can hear the gasping behind your fingers, the high-pitched moans muffled in your hands.

Seungmin laughs, but it sounds winded. "A dick huh? That's funny. You seem to like being fucked by one."

It occurs to you that you've been too lenient on him. Letting him eat the very same pussy he's thrusting into, letting him fuck you raw. His attitude needs some shaping.

You let him keep fucking you. You let his cock throb and twitch in your pussy. He's close, but he's doing good at holding back. Seungmin must be used to dumping his cum and leaving, but he seems to hold out just for you. It's cute, but your plan is better.

Your head bounces with every thrust. Seungmin makes sure to keep his long fingers at your clit the entire time, switching between pinching and flicking against it. It helps to build your second orgasm. Your jaw falls open and your moans become more frequent.

"Shit," he breathes. "Pussy gripping me so tight. Is someone gonna cum again?"

Blinking up at him, you nod. Your hand grips your chest, squeezing your boobs underneath the material as you keep nodding. "Mhm. Keep fucking my pussy and I'll cream all over your cock." That does it for him. Seungmin has been holding back his orgasm so much that his ears feel like they might burst.

With new vigor, he fucks into you harder, deeper. Seungmin doesn't try to hide the animalistic sounds he makes, groaning and moaning as your walls wrap around his cock. "You want my cum, huh? Acting all big and strong when it's you're begging for it. Say it. Tell me you want my cum."

You don't, not because you're prideful, but because you can't. He's thrusting into you so roughly that words seem to leave you. His hand pulls your clit roughly, and the harsh tug drives you over the edge. You squeeze your breasts so tightly to anchor yourself. You can feel how your pussy floods with your cum, leaving your legs trembling and shaking.

Seungmin can feel it too. The pulsing, the wetness. It's enough to finally let him release. His balls tighten, his dick twitches, and he-

"Pull out."

Seungmin doesn't know why he listens. He was so close to his orgasm, he could still taste it on his tongue. But your demand outweighs his need to cum. With a wail, he pulls out. A small whimper makes its way past you as he finally slips out, cock shining in your cum.

His cock is red, rubbed nearly raw from how good he was keeping himself at bay. You can see the head of his cock pulsing, worse than the first time you saw it. A wicked smile finds your lips.

"Do you remember what I said earlier, Seungie?" You speak with artificial gentleness. Seungmin is too busy trying not to cum, squeezing the base of his cock almost painfully. You have to repeat your question before he finally looks up to you. "Huh? About what?"

"About who gets to cum," you remind him. "Who is it that gets to cum tonight?"

Seungmin thinks back about how you presented your cunt to him, bare and wet. He briefly recalls how you said something about being the only one to cum, but he was so entranced by your sweet pussy that he hardly cared.

He frowns, face flushed. "But that's not fair! I ate you out. You came on my tongue. You came on my dick. I'm so hard and-"

"And that doesn't matter," you interrupt him. "I never said you can cum. That's your fault for assuming you could." You have to bite back you smile at his pitiful reaction.

Even with his dejected look, you can't help but find it somewhat cute. You fake a pout and click your tongue, "Poor thing. Here, kisses will make you feel better."

Seungmin wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't you widening your legs and him falling to his knees. Yet, he does just that. You feel his warm, wet tongue on your throbbing clit. Sucking and licking eagerly like he forgot about the aching cock between his legs.

You fondly brush the hair from his face as he eats you out for the second time tonight. His eyes look up to you with your clit in your mouth and you shiver. Seungmin will be a handful for sure, but you can't help but think you've found the perfect diamond in the rough.

a/n: omfg I actually had a whole different idea but I scraped it and did this instead :p. if you wanna ask for a third part, please don't, I have no more plot for this fic tags: @mynsung, @andassortedkpop, @jminnnnnnn, @geneziesm, @applekiwi3202, @i6gyuu, @lazycarolinamoment, @lewoh-ot8-wh0re, @ihave-atummyache, @seeeeking-skz, @loeyscock, @blankdyean, @dini-recs, @yzsqu, @desirehorizon-recsextra a/n: I need to start asking if people want tags rather than looking through my comments and see who was asking for a pt 2 :(

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin #seungmin stray kids #seungmin skz #seungmin skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours

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fuckmyskywalker · 3 months

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greedy stepdad anakin who just needs to fuck you whenever mom isn’t looking. he will bend you over tables and fuck you to sleep. i mean, he changed your diapers and practically raised you after your deadbeat dad left. now that you’re a beautiful young woman, shouldn’t you pay him back?

🫧

18+. Smut. Stepcest/Fauxcest. Cheating. Dead dove do not eat.

Holy fucking fuck. I am. Speechless. 🫧 anon shrine.

"Oh, come on, princess. It's not like I haven't seen you before," His hands caress your thighs, noticing how hard you clenched them when he was building the new coffee table for the living room. "Why are you pushing me away? Last night you seemed to want the opposite..." Stepdad!Anakin's lips brush over your ear, smirking. "You were begging your daddy to keep his cock inside you."

Placing a hand on his chest, you look over your shoulder, checking that your mother is still cooking. You can hear the podcast she always has in the background, and her muffled humming. It smells like fried vegetables which makes your stomach growl— but Anakin's cologne makes your body growl for... something else.

"Mom is here," You whisper, lifting your legs and lazily draping them over his lap. He caresses your thighs again, dangerously close to your hip. "Not now, Anakin."

"Anakin? Since when you call me that."

"Since I know you?"

He shakes his head, smiling. There's an amused expression on his smug face, his fingers untie the knot on your sweatpants. You don't stop him, you don't have the strength to do it. "You didn't called me that last night."

Your face burns at his remark, he is right— you totally forgot about that. You look away but Anakin is faster. He grips your jaw and forces you to look at him. His half-lidded eyes hold a dangerous sparkle, something you weren't able to run away from since you became an adult. You always had that little thought, how handsome he is... how strong he looks when he is working out in the garage... or how good his groans sound when he jerks off in the shower.

"Shut up."

"Say it again, and I'll let you go. And be nice this time."

Anakin pinches your thigh and you jolt in response. With a sigh, you give up— he gave you everything you have. He raised you and opened his arms for you to run and hold him when you felt unwanted by the world... so what's the problem in a small, little, inoffensive word?

"I'm sorry... Dad," You mumble, ignoring the slight buzzing in your ears. "Can I go to my room?"

Anakin hums, pretending to think about it before smiling. "No," He says. "You'll stay here, Dad has a little hole to fill." Another one?

It didn't took him long to prep you, it's so easy to get you riled up and wet— he just needed to lower his sweats and yours to slide in— and of course clasp a hand over your mouth. You can be quite noisy. His cock slides in and out, swallowed by your greedy pussy— guess he's not the only one greedy here. Anakin sticks two fingers inside your mouth, forcing you to choke around them, groaning quietly when you do so.

"All grown up for me. Perfect," He pants, crooking his neck to kiss your jaw. "See that Dad will always know how to take care of you? When you were little I had to learn how to change your diapers and bottle feed you... now it's your turn to learn how to please me."

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#🫧 anon #stepdad!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you

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37-drc89 · 5 months

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painting with h. hyunjin

This week really did you and your boyfriend dirty. Everyday you would come home yawning, shoulders slump, complaining about how much you dream of getting into the bed. You find Hyunjin at your shared apartment, already grumpy, most likely splashed on the couch looking absolutely dead. You would just lay down on his back, nuzzling face into his hair. The drama king he is, Hyunjin would whine in fake pain, throwing you off of him, just to grab your tired body and lock it tightly in between his arms. Usually you fell asleep like this, having to rush yourself the morning after to take a shower and do everything people normally do after work. Monday, tuesday, wednesday and thursday, they all looked like this, they all felt like world just chew you up and spit you out on the ground for no reason.

But today's friday. The only thing keeping you alive at work was thought of weekend starting, knowing that your boyfriend stays home with you for these two days and you can have him all to yourself. Maybe that's why you got just slightly disappointed when you found him sitting in front of a blank canva with all his painting set already on the table. Of course, you absolutely adored Hyunjin's artwork and watching him focused on his hobby was your favorite thing to look at, ever. You once spent four hours just admiring his relaxed face, eyes wandering around the canva and brushes making soft, comforting sounds swiping on it. Obviously, Hyunjin wouldn't be himself if he didn't complain about it, trying to move your face the other way or throwing random shirt at your head so you don't stare at him so deeply, but the truth is, he liked the attention. He would always pretend it annoys him, but he wouldn't change it for the world. However, today it's you who needs his attention. The whole day you've been thinking about being in his warm embrace and watching some scary movies or comedies. But you know Hyunjin values his private space, especially when he's creating things. You couldn't help but frown, only patting his shoulder softly as a greeting, not to interrupt him. You go to your shared bedroom and slump yourself on the bed, sighing into the pillow. You play some podcast and let yourself sink into the softness of the covers. Not even half an hour passed when you started tossing and turning in desperate need of your boyfriend's presence. You quietly make your way to the livingroom, the only sound coming from it is Hyunjin's calm playlist playing from the phone. His eyes don't catch you standing in the door frame, too focused on his progressing artwork.

"Hyune," you mumble something barely above the whisper, taking small steps towards his sitting figure. You start playing with the ends of his hair, scared that any more physical touch might distract him at the moment.

"Hm?" his attention immediately goes to you and your heart melts a little. He once told you, you're the only one he would ever pause working for, and that's true, he could never ignore you.

"Can I stay here with you for a second? I miss you," your arms carefully wrap themselves around his shoulders and your chin rests on top of his head. Hyunjin leans into your touch slightly, short chuckle leaving his mouth.

"Do you want to try painting with me, buttercup?" he asks looking up at you and your eyes go wider, taken aback by his offer.

"I can? Won't I disturb you?" in response he just grabs your hands and guide you in front of him, pulling you onto his lap. His chin finds its place on your right shoulder and he takes your hand, forcing a brush in between your fingers. Hyunjin guides your hand to the canva and you try to stop it with your own strength. Before you can manage to say "I'll ruin it", or "I don't want to force you to anything" he just grabs your head with his other hand and turns it, pressing his soft lips onto yours, succesfully shushing you. You melt into the kiss instantly, finally getting your desired attention. "Shut up," is the only thing he says after pulling away, sending you the warmest smile you've ever seen and you feel like every worry bothering you since last week washes away. So you let him guide your hand as he pleases, after some time letting it go, grabbing his own brush and painting along with you, making your shared masterpiece. He helps you with every unfortunate stain of paint or wrongly mixed colors, laughing it off, nothing but love burning in his eyes when your face gets flustered or angry at your mistakes. Hyunjin praises your part a lot, paying his attention into the smallest details, clearly impressed by the amount of effort you put into the painting.

After all, it's now hung above your shared bed, exposed like a masterpiece it is, for everyone to see. And Hyunjin has never been more proud of any of his artworks, no matter how good they looked. Because this one he created with you, with the love of his life.

masterlist

#skz au #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin drabbles #stray kids x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic

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dathen · 2 years

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Continuing my Audio Drama Recommendations based on Non-Podcast Faves series, a show that is very dear to my heart:

Hello from the Hallowoods

Premise: In the forests of Northern Canada at the end of the world, the survivors of an eldritch apocalypse band together to survive, scraping meaning and community and joy from a world turned dark and strange by an eldritch apocalypse. Few touched by the black rains remain unchanged--or even quite human--and the dead tend to not stay dead. Most of humanity has shut itself away in a virtual world, but the malicious megacorporation that keeps it is not the only power invested in what plays out in these woods.

For if you like:

Over the Garden Wall - The Hallowoods may be filled with horrors, but the story is just so damn cozy. It has that same eerie, dark warmth that makes Over the Garden Wall a favorite, particularly the pumpkin episode where the things that are frightening and welcoming may be one and the same. Also like OTGW, Hallowoods loves to work through complex feelings and relationships through its spooky setting.

Discworld (/Good Omens) - This is mainly for two things I love about Pratchett’s writing: the profound wrapped up in the strange, and the catharsis of age-old tropes turned inside-out. Fans of the Death series will find obvious things to love, but also: imagine the queerness of Monstrous Regiment multiplied by ten thousand. And without giving away too much about my favorite subplot, it follows a demon sent on a celestial audit of earth and catching more feelings than he signed up for--I KNOW a lot of you would would love it. And on a structural note, Hallowoods’ dozens of points of view overlap to create a complex, compelling whole with something for everyone--and you don’t even need a reading flowchart for it!

Don’t Starve Together - This one’s just pure and simple vibes, but oh are they TASTY. Found family huddled together in creepy, sinister forests, finding small victories in putting together a garden and handful of bee boxes, or sharing a meal with a friend? No joke whenever I play Don’t Starve these days I just pretend I’m building the Hallowoods Scoutpost. Complete with local beloved ghost.

I got like ten suggestions from friends when putting this together, but wanted to keep this concise--feel free to reblog and add on with your own comparisons! I’ve lured at least one person to this show over “what if Frankenstein’s Creature got love and support”!

Warning: The show delves into topics like religious trauma and queerphobia, including a queerphobic fundamentalist as the central season 1 villain. This can be pretty rough to listen to in the 20-28 span in particular.

#hello from the hallowoods #hfth #podcast recs

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vigilantebarbie · 11 months

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i keep my jealousy close chapter one

chapter two

It all started with finding out that there was a vigilante in Evergreen, appropriately named Vigilante. It scared the shit out of you knowing that there was some murderous person out there who seemed to be killing anyone who broke even the smallest law.

Some jaywalker had been found cut to ribbons one morning, and another day someone the traffic cameras had picked up speeding through a red light was found shot in their car. You didn't realize how bad it was until you went into the Italian restaurant, Fennel something, next to your laundromat to break a $20 when you overheard the staff gossiping about the latest death. Some bank manager who was on trial for embezzlement was found dead in his home, along with his partners in crime. "It was another Vigilante job, apparently. The security cameras were cut before the murder." The hostess squeaked out, sounding almost panicked when she said that, almost like she was guilty of the crime herself. She looked barely older than sixteen, so there was no way in hell she could even commit that sort of crime. Not if she was working at a restaurant for her first job.

"Maybe the bank guy killed someone, Madison. Personally, I'm glad Vigilante got rid of him so now we're all safe." Your head whipped around to find out exactly who had said that & your eyes settled on who appeared to be a busser, based on the half-full dish tub in his hands, standing there and looking directly at the hostess, Madison, with what looked to you like anger and disbelief. Vigilante had a fanboy, who knew? "The less scummy people the better if you ask me" Fanboy chimed in before Madison could get another word in "But what if I accidentally run a red light like that guy last week? I'm only seventeen, Adrian!" This was going to get interesting fast. Sitting down silently to watch the two argue for a few minutes before clearing your throat to finally get your change so you could do your laundry.

Both of them jumped at the sound of your voice, Madison hastily apologizing for making you wait. "It's okay, promise" You assured her with a genuine smile "I was just wondering if you could break this $20, the change machine at the laundromat only takes fives and ones." You were semi-new to Evergreen, you needed a fresh start after ending a long-term relationship that hadn't made you happy since the beginning. Leaving that loser behind was the best thing you had ever done for your mental health. But now you had to make new friends and create new experiences. Thankfully you were a writer and could work just about anywhere since you always got to work from home.

"Sure thing!" Madison chirped, counting out loud as she counted the change a little slowly, but who could blame her? Numbers suck. You couldn't help looking around as you waited, noticing the fanboy busser, Adrian as you recalled hearing Madison call him. You definitely admired the guy for being able to work semi-peacefully with a teenager. You'd never really liked teenagers, even when you were one. He had to be around your age, roughly late twenties.

Trying to not stare when he heaved the full bus tub up with ease, you turned your attention back to Madison, fairly certain that Adrian had seen you looking at him. “I appreciate it. Hopefully, I won’t be back to break a bill again & actually remember to get what bills I need for laundry. Or save for a washer & dryer so I don’t have to go to the laundromat anymore.” You rambled. Now you had to actually leave before they started to judge you for not being able to shut up. "Anyhoo, see you guys around" Raising your fingers in a salute, you turned and left, hearing Madison mumble "Old people are so weird" on your way out the door. Shoving the change in your pocket while you went back to the car to get your laundry and headed into the laundromat with your airpod knock offs connected, portable charger ready to go, you put on a podcast to listen to while you passed the time between loads being switched over, thinking about the weirdo from the restaurant. Why had he defended Vigilante so eagerly? And why had you been so impressed by the way he lifted that full bus tub onto his shoulder? You couldn't get that image out of your mind for some reason and it was driving you insane. So much so, that your Fitbit picked up your heart rate increase while you were sitting there, listening to two strangers talk about American Girl dolls or whatever.

Little did you realize that Vigilante fanboy, Adrian, had noticed you too, and had heard everything you told Madison about the laundromat. After his shift ended, he made his way to his car, conveniently parked close to yours without him even realizing it. He could see everything through the big window, watch everything you were doing. That was creepy. But he couldn't bring himself to look away while you sat on top of the laundry counter, singing along to some song he couldn't hear, swinging your legs and aggressively pointing your finger like you were at some punk show and not doing errands.

This wouldn't be the last time he'd see you, he decided. It couldn't be. Not when you were so intriguing.

#i keep my jealousy close #adrian chase #adrian x reader #adrian x you #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #peacemaker 2022 #me finally posting my fic here? yes but slowly

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therichantsim · 7 months

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Last night I got off the most disheartening phone call with a friend I've known since we were pre-teens and my ex-husband on three way. The friend is who introduced me to my ex-husband. We chatted it up for a good while.

⚠️⚠️Trigger warning⚠️⚠️

Anti-lgbtqia+ hate speech below the cut.

Then somehow the subject of gay and trans people came up. I thought I knew where my ex-husband stood because we used to talk about it when our kids were little. I thought he supported LGTBQIA+. The friend was getting sentimental, and my ex called him gay. Which was weird since my ex is very much in touch with his softer side and can be very expressive and passionate about his feelings. So, although I know it was a joke, I didn't think it was funny. The friend said [[his name redacted]] is not gay! I may be a lot of things but I ain't no [[explicit]]. I said, "even if you were gay, we would still have mad love for you." He again reiterates. "I ain't no muh fukkin' [[redacted]]" My ex says, "Bruh, chill out with all that. Gay people are cool." Then says, "I have gay family members and if my kids came out gay, I'd still love them anyway." Friend says "Nah nigga fuck that shit. I'd rather my son be dead then gay." My heart broke!! Then he proceeds to give a weak ass strawman argument as to they (whoever "they" is...) are trying to shove this agenda down our throats. I felt like I was teleported into a podcast full of hoteps and incels. I said, "I am pro LGBTQIA+ so I'm going to need you to shut the fuck up." Here is where it really took a turn for the worst. My ex-husband who I love dearly as a friend and co-parent partner says, "But I can't get with them trans muh fukkas. I gotta draw the line there." My heart was beating so fast at this point. I started pacing the floor. I mean I gave them the whole speech about using talking points of white supremist. Then old friend says, "Yo, Ant aren't you a Christian? How can you be for these people?" I gave him historical teaching points on how the same stuff they say about them they said about black people. I mean I went in. As a theologian and ordain minister I pulled out doctrine in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek text. At one point they both said something about sounding like I went to college and like a black activist etc. COMPLETLY MISSING ALL THE FUCKING POINTS!!! I'm so disappointed in my ex-husband. However, the old friend I can go another decade without hearing from him again.

I talk to my ex at least twice a week. Sometimes with his current wife on the phone as well. We love them damn kids but we're also like I said, "good friends". We vacation together and everything, but now I don't know how to move forward knowing he's transphobic. Is this how white ally's feel when they have family members who are racist? He has called a few times and I ignored because I'm still upset. The kids say, "dad has been trying to reach you, why haven't you called him back?"

I'm sharing this because I don't know who else to have this kind of discussion with. I'm probably the most if not only progressive in my family. Everyone else is mostly indifferent because they have no skin in the fight and then there are the boomers so...🙄

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crystallizedkingdoms · 1 year

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Talk about eleventh hour gn Johann!!!!!!

Oh boy you’re opening fucking Floodgates.

For this post I’m not gonna go too into into the exact details of how Johann’s been neglected by the graphic novel and how that if they don’t rectify this it will extremely flatten the finale as a whole (but I can make that a separate post if it’s wanted), but I Will mention a few things: in the past four books, Johann’s had a total of 15 panels where he makes a prominent appearance— of which he has no deeper characterization other than being… just kind of grumpy? Not cynical with the capacity for goofs like our podcast Johann, with a unique and layered dynamic with the Voidfish; just a musician with an attitude problem with none of the character building, plot important scenes.

This changes with the 11th Hour. We get about 15 new panels with his face in it, and the most amount of lines he’s gotten thus far, and it’s plot important! Finally, we get one of the core tenets of Johann’s character: what happens to his beloved music when he feeds it to the Voidfish, and his fear of dying and being forgotten. Hell, I’d even make the argument that the above panels portray his actual fear and urgency over it better than the podcast. So… problem solved, crisis averted, shut up and be happy Sie, right?

(More under the cut, but tl;dr: graphic novel is severely undercutting Johann’s character by diminishing his relationship with the Voidfish and it’s KILLING ME)

Except, quite frankly, this condensed rectification is seriously not enough. Although it brings up the core concepts of Johann’s strong feelings towards dead members being erased, it very quickly glosses over Johann’s feelings on his music being erased into a simple “…Yes.” Look at how Johann expressed himself in the podcast, in the elevator scene that introduced his character efficiently!

And really, most importantly… we haven’t seen any of his connection with the Voidfish. We don’t get Johann being the one introducing the boys to the Voidfish and the fact he’s the best violinist basically ever. We don’t get scene of Johann and Lucas arguing over who should keep the Voidfish. We get the below scene, of Johann seeing the Voidfish erasing Boyland’s big family, but it neglects a cute little comment he makes when the Boys worry that the process tires the Voidfish out!

And of course, the infamous scene. The scene that doesn’t happen in the graphic novel (in the podcast it happens in the Lunar Interlude before Crystal Kingdom), and arguably one of Johann’s most important scenes outside of the novel. The Voidfish Duet, while providing an invaluable plot clue with EGG BABE, was also a moment of deep connection with Johann and the Voidfish. (Just look at how it’s described guys. this scene is INSANE)

We even get a piece of dialogue where Johann has almost an adverse reaction to the information that the Voidfish does this friendly gesture to Magnus, someone who (in his eyes) is new and has never taken care of the Voidfish in the way he’s done for over a year. Johann clearly has a very strong bond with the Voidfish to have a reaction like this!

This is such an important scene that we haven’t seen yet, and we’re almost at the end! And there is not a lot of space for it to be squeezed into the Suffering Game’s interludes— what with Magnus needing to be alone to communicate with the Voidfish (unless they just. stick Johann in there), and then he fucking Dies in the Reunion Tour interlude (and by then it would be no use to include it, because Magnus already knows EGG BABE by then).

And quite honestly, I have a little less faith that this scene is going to happen. Because we know the Voidfish has already sung to Johann in some capacity— in the little note made on whiteboard back in Rockport. The first two notes of EGG BABE.

This could be retconned, or it could fit into a flashback, or it can still pack a punch if they manage to slip in the Duet somewhere else. But part of the wonder and the shock Johann felt when he connected with the Voidfish in that scene was because it had never been done before, immediately after Magnus had garnered a physical reaction from the animal he’s been caring for for over a year. I don’t think the Duet would pack the same punch as it did because of the separation of these two scenes.

Anyway. Moral of the story, I love Johann Adventurezone with all my heart. Pains me to see his character and his relationship with the Voidfish get sidelined like this, even if it’s for the sake of streamlining the novels. Cant imagine how it might affect the finale (except yes I can and I’m biting fucking METAL thinking abt it). Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

#asks #achamocha #taz gn spoilers #taz balance #taz johann #im main tagging this bc everyone needs to see. the Truth the agonizing truth cuz I haven’t seen anything abt it

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willcamposleftnut · 1 year

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Every time a new ep comes out i always post a hundred things as i listen to it so this time im gonna put them all in 1 large post :)

(Teen facts)

JIMMY MY BELOVED!!!

Taylors SO stupid god I love him so much

Mat stop stalling

brunch boy is my new favorite gay slur/j

Will is being milked

FREDDIE ACCIDENTALLY DOING THE PORNHUB INTRO

JODIE NOOOO WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS HE GETS WORSE EVERY EPISODE

"THIS PAGE IS A LITTLE STICKY" JIMMY WHY

Anthony is a feminist 😌

I NEED THAT TEESHIRT HOLY SHIT I LOVE THAT

(Ep start)

LINK IS FUCKING 12?? WHAT LINK 14?? EXUSE ME MAT LINK IS 16

Poor norm😢

LINK MY BABY BOY

LINK THANK FUCK FOR LOVE THEN FEAR HELL YEAH!!

Why are they talking about cum so much this ep?

SCARY MY POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU I WILL NEVER HATE YOU

Taylor i love you but please shut up

Armless loser nick

Funky buttloven???

Nick screen time??? 👀👀

i NEED to give norm a hug or i will explode

LINK MY SWEET BABY BOY SJFBAUFKANFIABDU

HEROS THE FUCKING CHOSEN ONE OMFG NORMAL MY POOR BABY BOY LET ME FUCKING HOLD HIM PLEASE

HOLY SHIT LINK

Hermie my boy hes back<3

OH NO HES UPSETTY SPAGHETTI

NATTY 1 NORM NO

"As a family"👀

god the close foster swfit unworthy family are all so cringe fail omg

your honor they are brothers (jodie and glenn)

LINK!!!

This podcast is the 3 saddest teens ever and Taylor

FUCK YEAH KICK JODIE IN THE NUTS link derives to go ape shit <3

Jodie shut the fuck uppppp

NICKY!!!

Damn jodie thats mean

MORGAN MY BELOVED!!!

LMFAO GLENN AND JODIE

Id listen to a entire podcast of just glenn and jodie being dumbasses

HERMIE KNOWS HOW TO GET TO THE GOOF RELME??? I WANNA GO TO THE GOOFS!!!

God nick is hot (i remember that he has horns)

I HATE jodie /pos

Jodie is such a shit dad omfg

Poor hermie:,( hes angy poor baby

Holy shit Rebecca is a badass

IS HERO WITH WILLY??

"Your dads" ?? Rebecca??

Rebecca the conspiracy theories my beloved <333

"Your gonna go to the bathroom by yourself?" Link what???

Link doesn't wash his hands?

Link what are you talking about

Hell yeah willys blood<3

HE HAS NICKS HAND? FUCK YOU

Honk shoo honk shoo

Link ik your in the right but without an explanation its kinda creepy man

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU WILLY FUCK YOU

NO SCARY HES NOT LETTING YOU TALK TO THE DOODLER BECAUSE HE TRUSTS YOU ITS BECAUSE HES TOO SCARD TO DO IT

WILLY YOU MOTHERFUCKER LEAVE MY GIRL ALONE SCARY NO PLEASE IM SORRY I LOVE YOU PLEASE SCARY I LOVE YOU

Pissfoot gumtoucher i love you <3

HERMIE ALSO KNOWS HOW TO GET TO GOOFS ASK HIM PLEASE

SCARY SHUT UP DONT TALK SHIT ABOUT MY SWEET BABY BOY LINCOLN

Loving Link and Scary is so hard i love them both so much

WOMEN CAN VOTE

SCARY MY POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW NOOOO

NICKY!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH NICKY MY BELOVED!!

Normal making the guy whos ON FIRE go to the most burnabul room ever

Taylor has his body back<3

Awww father son bonding<333

NICK WHAT THE FUCK NO WE ARE NOT KILLING SCARY WHAT THE FUCK NO SHES ONLY A KID

Are we going to goofs??? PLEASEEEEE I WANNA GO TO GOOFS IM BEGGING YOU!!!

ARE WE TRAPPING SCARY ON THE ISS?? PLEASE THIS IS SO FUNNY

Ewww norm thats grossss

PISS BOY PISS BOY PISS BOY PISS BOY

"Im glad you went to the bathroom, i pissed myself" link is everything to me

HES ONLY IN A SHIRT NOW

Link is SO CRINGE FAIL I LOVE him!!

"You wanna blow this popsicles salesmen?" Nick what??

NICK WHAT??

Nick keeps losing more body parts every ep

WAIT IS NICK ALIVE?? IS NICK FUCKING DEAD??

NOOOOO I LOVE SCARY AND LINK SO MUCH STOP FIGHTINGGGGG

#dndads #dndads spoilers

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faggotwalkwithme · 1 year

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hi, i'm theta, mars and basil! > he/him > gay + aroace > 17 :3

i love horror movies and i make them all transgender

my neocities (huge wip) (flashing warning)

my current interests areee > evil dead (+ other bruce campbell and/or sam raimi stuff) > twin peaks > jeffrey combs stuff (esp. reani, the phantom empire and dead man walking & love and a 45)

other stuff i'll definitely still be posting about: -> doctor who -> alternative subcultures (mostly goth and punk) -> fiction podcasts (specifically tma, w.bg and malevolent)

also, i'm in a band! we're @knees-mean-nothing, give us a follow :)

byf; i post a lot of fake gore/blood (like, A LOT of blood!), syringes, i'm a twin peaks fan (so also a lot of topics on sexual assault, incest and all that fun stuff..[/sarc] i'll try to tag this but i'll pribably mess up sometimes) i swear a lot and i use caps lock a lot. just bware if thats not ur jam

also exclusionists and TERFs go fuck yourself! and plz, if u ship minors and adults, block me

extra stuff below the cut :3

i literally just made this section because i like lists and i need an excuse.

also umm some microlabels: quasiromantic, orientated aroace, genderfaun, xenogenders (im considering making like a blog or something where i document them all :3), aegosexual, grayromantic

my birthday is on february 24th :3 i'm from australia and indonesia!!! i'm an avatar of the lonely lets fucking go

#pinned post

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chrisis-averted · 1 month

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“I’ve been keeping my mouth shut because I assumed you knew what you were doing, but if today proves anything it’s that you have no idea how things will turn out and you’re just throwing yourself into danger!” Martin cried out in growing frustration, gesticulating heavily. “Do you even realise how reckless and selfish you’ve acted these past few months?!” Jon opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off before he could speak. “First you insist on going along with Elias’ instructions when it’s clear he has plans to hurt you. Then you disappear in the tunnels for days at a time, we had to drag you out unconscious and dehydrated just last week! Then you just head off in the middle of the night to search for people—and not—who clearly want to kill you. And don’t let me even get started on the fact that you’ve been helping Strangers flee the country—I know they’re Dr. Elliot’s students but that could’ve put you in danger with the Circus and with Tim, since you decided not to tell him until he found out on his own! Do I need to continue?!” Jon blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. Martin’s concerns were understandable, but unfounded, between the two of them he was the most vulnerable, not him. He reached out for his hand, smiling. “Martin, it’s fine, I’ll be fine—” Martin snatched his hand away. “No, it’s not fine, nothing about this is fine!” He shouted, attracting a few weird looks from the passersby. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger! If Tim hadn’t run after the train, today, you would be dead—” “Trapped,” Jon blinked, surprised. “Trapped, not dead. The Buried—” Martin rolled his eyes. “Because that makes it sooo much better!” He threw his hands up. “Do you even hear yourself?!” “Martin,” Jon sighed, smiling, “even if I get trapped in a domain I can always find my way back to you…” he tried to reassure him. “I did it before—” “By sheer dumb luck! And what about the time your luck runs out?! What then?! Will you leave me waiting you out forever or—or mourn you because you didn’t care enough to keep out of danger?!” Martin rubbed his eyes. “I can’t do this.” Jon went to reach out again but closed his hand and stepped back. “It’s—I’m sorry, I—” “Don’t.” Martin lifted his head to glare at him. “Don’ fucking apologise if you’re just going to do this again!”

#tma #the magnus archives #my fic #rewind reset rewrite #whoops here comes the angst

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wecametobealonetogether · 1 month

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People don’t understand that bad things happen to real people in real life, which sounds like such an absurd statement, but bear with me.

I’m told to reach out for help, but that help involves disclosing my life experiences that are described as “torture porn” by many, as if that media critique applies to my actual, lived experiences. People are so caught up in their own personal gauge of suffering that they cannot fathom anything outside of it. I can never be a good enough victim because I was too quiet about it then and even whispering about it now is too loud. They get control over the story of my life because what happened to me is too violent (“gratuitous”), too disgusting, too miserable. I can only ever be the victim of violent, misery-inducing, disgusting acts, because letting me be anything else involves admitting that the things they don’t want to think about happened to a complex, real human being and not some two-dimensional victim. Recognizing that I survived involves admitting people can survive the things I went through, that the too-soft victim made it out.

I made it out, so why aren’t you proud of me? If you want me to be a “survivor” so badly, why won’t you let me live? Why won’t you let me live with the fact that I did what it took to survive?

“Why didn’t you just run?” And I answer it.

“You wouldn’t be able to talk to me about it.” But I am.

Stop denying me. It’s almost like you didn’t want me to “survive.” It’s almost as if your ideal survivor is a dead one. You can only picture the things that happened to me in the context of banned horror movies and true crime podcasts, but I am here, and I am real, and I am so much more than the ruined mass of flesh you make me out to be. It’s almost as if the forever-lost girl is your favorite because she better suits the story you want to tell. I’m not sorry I don’t fit into your plot structure. I’m not sorry you weren’t planning on my coming back.

I’m not even scarred in the right ways for you. I came out different, but I am both too changed and not changed enough. I should have gone quietly, but I should have fought more. I should have told someone, but it’s too disturbing to hear about now, so I should keep my mouth shut.

I’m tired of being treated like broken goods.

I’m tired of being criticized for the way I have to put myself back together because I’m doing it the wrong way, but I shouldn’t dare reach out and subject anyone else to the knowledge of what happened to me, and I shouldn’t need anyone else because I’m not healed enough to be loved yet, but we all love you and we just didn’t know, and we don’t know who you are anymore and it’s your fault but the version of you that came before wasn’t good enough because she let this happen to her and why didn’t you tell us? Why don’t you trust us? Don’t you know you’re safe now?

They’re shoving me into limbo. I’m not allowed to be an adult or child or victim or survivor. I’m not allowed to be who I could have been before it happened or who I am after, I’m not allowed to be anything.

Surprise: there is no version of me from before. There never has been. She is purely hypothetical, but she gets treated with more respect and legitimacy than I ever will.

I’m not allowed to be in the past because the person I had to be to get through it has been denied her humanity. What happened to her was so filthy, she has become filth. That’s what happens when you make something so taboo that you can’t talk about it. You turn the person it happened to into a taboo.

They ask me why I stayed but I’m not allowed to answer. I’m not allowed to admit there were moments of softness, or how hungry I was for comfort, and how I could not conceive of a world outside once the switch flipped.

That sort of brain-breaking is only in science fiction, so I must be a liar. That’s at the core of all of this: their “victim” as a liar. To suffer as I did is to lie. The things that happened to me can only be found in stories people shouldn’t be reading, so I can’t be trusted. Stop asking me about my story if you treat it like a book so dirty it needs banned from your library. There is no me without the part of my history you hate.

I’m not sorry I didn’t follow your timeline. I’m not sorry I think my life still has potential. I’m not sorry for being so deeply in love in a world that thinks I should only receive pity. I’m not sorry for treasuring my future, knowing I cannot erase my past. I’m not sorry for being the sort of survivor you’re unable to venerate with a clear conscience.

I made it out, and my life is so much more than the story you’ve decided defines it.

#personal #victim blaming

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architeuthis3 · 3 months

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Family of Lashawn Thompson Demands Justice After He Was “Eaten Alive” by Insects in Atlanta Jail STORYAPRIL 18, 2023. Democracy Now! https://www.democracynow.org/2023/4/18/lashawn_thompson_atlanta_jail_eaten_alive

Transcript This is a rush transcript. Copy may not be in its final form. AMY GOODMAN: We begin today’s show in Atlanta, Georgia, where over 600 prisoners are being transferred from the Fulton County Jail after the family of a Black prisoner said he was “eaten alive” by insects and bedbugs in his cell there last year. The family of 35-year-old Lashawn Thompson, who was being held in the jail’s psychiatric wing, is demanding a criminal investigation and that the jail should be shut down. On Monday, several of the jail’s executive staff resigned, including the chief jailer, assistant chief jailer and members of the criminal investigative division. Fulton County Sheriff Pat Labat said in a statement, quote, “It’s clear to me that it’s time, past time, to clean house.” In an earlier statement, the sheriff said, quote, “it’s fair to say that this is one of the many cases that illustrate the desperate need for expanded and better mental health services.”

This Thursday, the family and community members will rally outside the jail as awareness about the conditions there and this case grow. Photos shared with Democracy Now! by the lawyer for Lashawn Thompson show filthy conditions in what’s believed to be Thompson’s cell, where he was found dead on September 19th last year. The Fulton County Medical Examiner’s autopsy report said Thompson’s cell was in, quote, “extremely poor condition with insect infection and other filthiness around him” and had a, quote, “severe bedbug infestation.” The Fulton County’s autopsy noted, quote, “The body is infested with an enormous number of small insects that are 2 mm in length.” Thompson’s cause of death is listed as undetermined.

Perhaps most shocking is a graphic image released by the family’s lawyer that shows Thompson’s face at the time of his death. His family has asked that the world see it, and with a warning to our viewers, we are showing it briefly now.

Lashawn Thompson’s death came after he had been held for three months on a misdemeanor charge and was put in the jail’s psychiatric wing after officials determined he was mentally ill. The corrections officer who wrote the incident report about his death noted, quote, “I have communicated with mental health staff about the living conditions of inmate Thompson on previous dates.”

For more, we’re joined in a global TV/radio/podcast broadcast exclusive by three guests. In Atlanta, Michael Harper is a lawyer representing Lashawn Thompson’s family. In Florida, we’re joined by Lashawn’s sister Shenita Thompson, and Lashawn’s brother Brad McCrae is in Montgomery, Alabama.

We welcome you all to Democracy Now! Brad, I want to start with you. You are Lashawn’s brother. We really weighed whether to show that photograph, that your family wants the world to see, of your brother’s head. And I’m wondering if you can talk about why you felt it was critical that the world see it.

BRAD McCRAE: Yes, ma’am. First off, I want to say good morning and thanks for having me on.

As far as with the photo, my personal feelings and emotion about the photos was Emmett Till. I thought about Emmett Till. It broke my heart to see those photos. And we wanted the world to see it, so the world can feel it, and the world can wake up and see what’s going on out here and get behind it and make a change. Make a change. We want the world to wake up and make a change.

JUAN GONZÁLEZ: I’d like to ask Shenita Thompson, the sister of Lashawn Thompson, when you first heard of what had happened to your brother, and your reaction when you realized the conditions that he was in.

SHENITA THOMPSON: When I first found out what happened to my brother, it just, like, broke my heart. Just to see the conditions that he was in, and especially the photos, just to see all the bugs in his face, his eyes, his nose, like, it really, really broke my heart just to see him like that and what he went through. Yeah.

JUAN GONZÁLEZ: And also, I’d like to ask Brad McCrae: The fact that the sheriff of Fulton County is now saying he vows to clean house, what’s your reaction to the actions of law enforcement subsequent to your brother’s death?

BRAD McCRAE: Well, I want to thank the sheriff for trying to clean house and do everything that he feels like he could do. I wish it was done earlier. I wish it would have been done so my brother might still be here, but I want to thank the sheriff for what he’s trying to do. And he’s trying to make it right on his behalf, but we’ve got a long way to go, and I hope it keeps going forward.

AMY GOODMAN: I want to point out, Brad, that, for our listeners, you are wearing a T-shirt that says “In Loving Memory,” and there’s a beautiful picture of your brother Lashawn on your shirt. Were you — and I also want to ask Shenita — if you both were in communication with him, if you were able to talk to him when he was in the jail? Shenita, let’s start with you. Did he talk to you about the bedbugs, the insects, the infestation, the conditions of the jail?

SHENITA THOMPSON: Like my brother had previously said, we didn’t even know he was in jail, so…

AMY GOODMAN: So the horror of this. A report by the Southern Center for Human Rights found at least 10 people died at the Fulton County Jail last year, and said, quote, “The Fulton County Jail has been understaffed and mismanaged for decades, leading to multiple lawsuits and consent decrees, but the problems have been particularly acute in recent months as Fulton County Sheriff Labat has failed to maintain even existing staff. On September 21st, Labat stated that he had lost more staff than he was able to hire, and as of October 10th there were at least 155 staff vacancies.”

The American Civil Liberties Union has issued a report on how to quickly depopulate the jail, that said, quote, “Fulton County’s failure to account for people’s ability to pay when setting bail is a significant factor in the number of people held in jail,” and found at least 12% of the people were held there due to “inability to pay bail — meaning a wealthier individual with the same charges and bail amount would be released.” Some were held for over two years.

Which brings us to Michael Harper, the attorney for Lashawn’s family. Michael, can you talk about why we are just learning about this case now, and the significance, the impact it has had, I mean, removing 600 prisoners? Talk about what you understand happened, how Lashawn was in that mental health unit of the jail, if you can call it that, what the autopsy means, the photographs that you have that are so horrific.

MICHAEL HARPER: Yeah. Good morning.

Let me start with the photographs, because there is some talk from the sheriff about the authenticity of those photographs and where they came from. Those horrific photographs came directly from the Fulton County Medical Examiner’s jail death investigation that was provided to the family from the County Medical Examiner’s Office. They are the exact photos of the cell that Lashawn Thompson was housed in when he died. They are horrible.

But what happened here, as you noted, the jail knew that Lashawn Thompson had mental health issues in June of 2022. They put him in a psychiatric wing of that jail and neglected him. He was there for three months. There are reports, in the incident report from the death, that the officers, as you alluded to, were aware that he was declining, he was in a filthy cell. They complained to their superiors, and nothing happened. He was there until he died, and his body was found infested with those horrible bedbug bites and lice and insects. It is just beyond tragic, what happened to him. He’s mentally ill. He was not able, we believe, to contact his family. He was not able to speak for himself. They held him there. It was their responsibility to make sure he was safe and to make sure that his cell was clean. And remember, Lashawn Thompson was a pretrial detainee. He had not been convicted of any crime. He was being held there until he got his day in court. So they had an obligation to make sure that he was safe.

The new information about the sheriff cleaning house and moving inmates, that’s a wonderful thing to happen. But Lashawn Thompson died in September of last year. The sheriff was well aware of this case then. We believe the measures that he’s taken now are solely based on the international outrage of Lashawn Thompson’s death. We appreciate any change to keep inmates safe, but it should have happened before Lashawn Thompson died, and certainly after he died, before the media attention.

JUAN GONZÁLEZ: Well, Michael Harper, you’ve represented others who died in the same facility, including William Barnett, a man charged with stealing a lawnmower, and also Antonio May, in 2018, who was beaten to death by six detention officers. Talk about these two related cases and what it indicates about how law enforcement has been dealing with this jail now for years.

MICHAEL HARPER: Yeah, there’s certainly a systemic issue of abuse and neglect at the Fulton County Jail here in Atlanta. Antonio May’s case was horrific. This is a man who also went into the jail with mental health issues. They were well aware. It’s well documented he had mental health issues. He was in a holding cell. When he first came in to be processed, he began removing his clothing, and he allegedly would not put his clothing back on when instructed to by the detention officers. For that small infraction, the DART team, the specialized team at the jail, Direct Action Response Team, went into his holding cell, tased him nine times in a minute and a half, beat him, put him in a restraint chair, took him to a shower area to wash the pepper spray off his face, and his heart went out. And they literally watched him, tied down to a restraint chair. And they had extra restraints. The evidence in that case showed that not just the restraints on the restraint chair, but they used additional restraints, against jail policy. And while he was restrained in that manner, his heart went out in front of them, and he died restrained in that chair. Just a horrific case for such a small, minor infraction.

William Barnett, another tragic case, went to the jail on a misdemeanor. The jail was aware that he had a chemical imbalance. He had low potassium. They sent him out, because he had some health issues, sent him out to the hospital. When he came back to the jail, the instructions from the hospital was for the jail to monitor William Barnett, check his potassium level to make sure that he did not decline. They did nothing. They never gave him more potassium. They never monitored him. And he was found unresponsive, went into cardiac arrest in his cell and died. I mean, these are just inexcusable, horrific deaths.

And let me also say this about the sheriff wanting a new jail. We applaud that, and we agree that we probably need a new jail in Fulton County, but these cases are about neglect. A new jail is not going to stop neglectful detention officers from not caring for mentally ill people. They have to do more training. They have to make sure that the officers are following policy to help those who are least served.

AMY GOODMAN: We wanted to end again with the family of Lashawn. Brad, you’re in Montgomery, in a studio in Alabama, a historic place, where Rosa Parks led the Montgomery bus boycott. You’re not far from Bryan Stevenson’s lynching museum. And, Shenita, I want to begin with your description of your brother. You’re in Winter Haven, Florida. Isn’t that where Lashawn grew up? Can you talk about Lashawn? And also, was he able to get help for his schizophrenia?

SHENITA THOMPSON: Yes, he grew up in Winter Haven, Florida. He went to Winter Haven High School. He loved music. He loved listening to his headphones, and he was always dealing with his headphones. He loved just music and stuff. Getting help for his mental health, yes, he was. But, you know, with mental health, it is hard. It’s just — it’s just heartbreaking, what happened. I’m sorry.

AMY GOODMAN: And, Brad, how do you want us to remember your brother Lashawn?

BRAD McCRAE: Yes, ma’am. I want the world to remember him as I do, as a loving person, a playful person. He loved music. He loved to cook. I want the world to remember him as their cousin, their brother, their uncle, or whatever the case may be, because it could happen to their family, just like it happened to mine.

AMY GOODMAN: And finally, Michael Harper, there’s going to be a major protest outside the Fulton County Jail on Thursday. Can you talk about what you are demanding and if you have filed suit on behalf of Lashawn?

MICHAEL HARPER: We have not filed any civil suit yet. Right now we’re just trying to raise awareness and bring attention to this horrific case. The rally will be to call for a criminal investigation into the death of Lashawn Thompson. It’s fine to clean house. It is fine to make changes. But someone needs to be held responsible for the horrible neglect that Lashawn Thompson underwent. So we want a criminal investigation into this case. We will also demand that the jail is closed down and that Fulton County builds a new jail. We’re calling the Department of Justice in Washington to launch a civil rights investigation into the jail, as well. And there will be other community leaders there. The Georgia NAACP will be there. A lot of community leaders will be there. This is our jail in Fulton County, and we have to make change.

AMY GOODMAN: Well, we want to thank you all so much for being with us, Michael Harper, the lawyer for Lashawn Thompson’s family, and Lashawn Thompson’s family, sister Shenita Thompson, speaking to us from Winter Haven, Florida, and Lashawn’s brother Brad McCrae, speaking to us from Montgomery, Alabama. Thank you so much. Our condolences to you both.

2 notes · View notes

merryfortune · 8 months

Text

A Podcast About You

Focus: Spectre-centric

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: T

Word Count: 6,474

Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Angst, Crying, Child Abuse, Character Study

Kyoko’s eyes widened. She knew she ought to skip this episode. That it would be opening old wound but she didn’t. She was glad she didn’t because by the end of it, she knew this was different. This was something else. She didn’t even think to discuss it with the others. They had rules and protocols but Kyoko was willing to forgo all of those and get straight to the point.

“You might want to listen to this.” she told Spectre, sliding forward her own device for him to borrow. The screen lit up in white and blue, a logo and a title, a run time and a volume bar.

“I don’t listen to true crime podcasts.” Spectre said. “You know why.”

“Well, I think you should listen to this one.” Kyoko told him. Her voice was stern. Not imposing, just serious.

Spectre stared at her.

“Take it to your room and listen to it. Please. And don’t tell Ryoken-sama.” Kyoko insisted.

Spectre’s brows creased, “Why?”

Her add-on worried Spectre very much. It did show. However, it showed more as a furor than an anxiety, however. He felt his heart strings played with, taut and tightly wound. They had rules. They had protocols. He was the exception but not in speciality, for reasons far worse than the other five.

He had been the only child of the Incident who didn’t need to have interference run on his disappearance. The only one whose misinformation campaign was spearheaded by the ones who were his guardians rather than his captors. It had come as a shock to all of them. He wasn’t even front page news. Just a little paragraph buried deep, an obituary and a press conference.

Heading: Little Boy Missing: Declared Dead.

Subtitle: Orphanage Takes Full Responsibility.

Then a couple paragraphs ensued. Some details about just who this little boy was and what responsibility the orphanage had to him. How all steps were taken properly. Even if the outcome was grim, grisly, and not at all true or what had happened.

Of course, it didn’t reflect well on an orphanage for it lose any of its charges or wards but if the police were satisfied that there was no suspicion of foul play and that it was in character for the little boy to simply run off and get into mischief… Well, there was nothing they could do. Case closed. Closed after two weeks of searching for him, even. Maybe one day his remains would turn up in a landslide or uncovered by some unfortunately observant hikers.

Or maybe he would turn up alive, but not necessarily well, after six months. Yes, well, that would be quite the mistake to make. To declare the child in question dead when there had been foul play. That he had been abducted, held captive, tortured, starved, electrocuted, and he had lived his short little life to the fullest in those six months.

Good thing he was very obedient and disappeared again after that. After three short days of being in and out of hospitals, shut down about his experience and talked over by those who knew better than him about his own lived experience. All those sorts of things. So, he got up and he simply left. Never to be found again. Presumed dead. For real this time.

“It features an interview from the woman who found you as an infant.” Kyoko said.

“Akabane-san?” Spectre exclaimed.

“Yes, the one and only. I thought she was a huckster at first but, no. She told the same story about how you would terrorise the girls in the orphanage as you by ripping the heads off their dolls. A detail which has never arisen before, I believe.”

Spectre turned quiet similar to how Kyoko’s eyes turned dark.

She crossed one arm across her chest, to hold onto her upper arm, “I think Ryoken-sama wouldn’t want you to listen to this. It may open a Pandora’s box for you but I want you to be the judge of that. He’s decided more than enough about your fate, I think. Don’t you agree? Well, it might hurt, it might help. I don’t know for sure but I think you might want to listen to what your previous guardian might have to say about you, eleven years after the fact.”

Her speech was gentle. She was right, too, about Ryoken. He had decided more than enough for him, particularly in regards to the Ignis. It was a protective measure. He didn’t want to see Spectre get hurt, so he lied about all the Ignis being defective, being progenitors of destruction for humankind, even though it was mostly just one and that one was not his.

His Earth… The Earth Ignis, he was never meant to be destiny bound to destruction. He just wanted a quiet, peaceful existence away from humanity but, according to the simulations, if his path were to ever have crossed with Spectre’s, it would have been beautiful. For them both. A platonic partnership which filled in gaps for them both.

His fate and their possible partnership, they were painful what-if’s now. For better or for worse. In the end, Spectre agreed and adhered to what Ryoken had decided for him: it had been better for him not to know.

But this?

This was from before his time. Though, as leader, he would not want his second-in-command getting involved with the media about his life and the misinformation campaign around it, it wasn’t his turn to decide what Spectre wanted. It was his.

Spectre swallowed, “Fine. I will listen to what Akabane-san has to say but I swear to God if I have to listen to any make fun of me or coddle me-”

“She doesn’t. Neither does the host. Do you really think I would listen to such slock on my own time?” Kyoko asked.

“I suppose not.” Spectre said but it was already strange that a criminal would listen to true crime podcasts to begin with.

But then again.

He was the only one whose appearances in true crime podcasts, articles, or news had to be monitored for. After all, the other five children were alive and well. They had never been kidnapped. The Hanoi Project had never taken place. Their disappearances were just… cases of chronic runawayism and the like. He was the only one who was dead.

Where Spectre had been the lone child they never had to spread misinformation about to conceal his disappearance, he was now the lone child who was talked about by strangers. Who had an unusual case record which collected dust in police archives or on the shelves of journalist’s past writings.

He took Kyoko’s device and slipped it into his pocket.

From the kitchen, they both went separate ways. Spectre went to his bedroom, Kyoko continued on to the gym inside the cruise liner.

Spectre locked himself in his room and found his own pair of earphones. It took him a couple minutes to find them since he so rarely used them. He wasn’t a music listener and his DuelTube history was sparse, mostly videos on gardening tips and tricks. Still, he found the cords eventually. He connected them and he figured he may as well get comfortable.

This was going to be rough, more likely than not. He laid down in his bed, hid under the covers with the podcast. For a moment, he was reminded of being a child - both in the orphanage and in the Kogami mansion - disobeyed curfew by reading a book like this. Spectre took a breath and he savoured how his doona was heavy on his back, how his pillow was soft underneath his chin, then exhaled.

Episode 51. Babe in the Woods.

Spectre scoffed. What a trite title. He was certain that there were many cases, both national and abroad, in which that title would be applicable. No wonder Kyoko didn’t immediately skip it, it didn’t seem egregiously referencing exactly him.

Nonetheless, he hit play.

A couple notes of the theme song music began to play. Spectre wasn’t familiar with this app that Kyoko used but scrolling, he discovered the case notes. It was blah, blah, blah to him. A sponsor link. A synopsis that likely thought itself clever: This is the story of a little lost boy who remained forever lost. Then some content warnings: child death, child neglect, etcetera.

It utterly bored Spectre already. There was forty-five whole minutes of this to look forward to, also, he noticed that the time played bar barely progressed in the thirty seconds it took to play the theme tune.

Boredom, however, was better than being irate, Spectre supposed but he was on edge. Especially now that the theme had finished playing and now the host was introducing not only herself but her guest, too.

“Thank you for tuning in, whether it is for first time or the fiftieth time, thank you for spending some time with me, Igarashi Eiko, my guest, Akabane Karen, and the story of Morishita Shinobu: the little lost boy who remained forever lost.”

Spectre snorted. The host clearly thought she was very clever for that synopsis, using it twice in her own script. Speaking of, he wondered if there was a written version to follow along with… but the idea of getting spoilers on his own life and death, well, that made even Spectre’s skin crawl. So, it was better, he decided, to simply listen on.

“Now that my show has gone beyond the fiftieth episode milestone, to celebrate, I have selected three guests whose stories I want to share with you all. All these guests have reached out to me, not vice versa, and their stories include solved cases, unsolved cases, and this case. Akabane-san, would you like to elaborate…?”

“Yes, of course, Igarashi-san.” Akabane replied.

Spectre held his breath. She sounded exactly how he remembered but different at the same time. She had lost some of that joyous, cheerful charm that she used to have. It made sense, he supposed. Time and the years had marched on and that included her. She was what… Thirty-six if he recalled correctly? She wasn’t that much older than Kyoko, Spectre was quite certain.

“This case is technically solved but there are still unresolved elements. Some suspect more than there is. I do not, personally, but I understand why people might think there is more to it than that.” Akabane said.

“Yes, this is a strange case, isn’t it?” Igarashi agreed. “A story of a boy who went missing twice.”

“There are a lot of rightful criticism of how we handled this incident and I would like to shed what light I can with it and share my story. I’m thirty-six and no longer a social worker. I burned out very quickly in part due to this incident. I work as a waitress now. Once I’m ready, I would like to go into teaching next but… I don’t know if my heart can take it, if I fail another young child like I did Morishita Shinobu-kun.”

“Do you want to tell me a bit about Morishita Shinobu-kun? And then I can go over the agreed upon timeline of events, if you like.” Igarashi suggested.

“I can do that.” Akabane replied. She took a breath and the microphone captured the tingle of her nervousness, translating it into static that the editing didn’t fully take out. “Shinobu-kun was an unusual boy. A lot of the children who came to the orphanage, their circumstances are all over the place but usually, there is a lot of coming and going. Children whose parents are going through divorce or other, high stakes court proceedings, they stay with until those matters are resolved. Children who are due to be adopted, children whose parents have surrendered them either due to their own judgement or at the pressure of social workers. But he… He wasn’t like that. We actually found him, under a tree. He had been abandoned in the woods and it was a miracle that we found him alive at all. I still can’t believe someone would do that to a baby.”

“A baby?” gasped Igarashi.

“A baby. He had been there for several days and was estimated to be a few months old, so not a newborn. He should have been starving, emaciated, any number of things but he was quite healthy when we found him. We tried to look for his parents but no leads ever arose. It was quite a disheartening thing. The orphanage was right there but rather than leave him on our doorstep, he was placed under a tree.”

“Is that how got his name?” Igarashi asked.

“Yes, I found him and ergo, I got the honour of naming him since it was apparent, we were going to have him for quite some time. I called him Morishita Shinobu. Under a forest and enduring. I thought that was a good match for him, if a child could endure that abandonment, I was hopeful he would have a bright future ahead of him but…”

“But what?” Igarashi prompted Akabane.

Akabane was quiet for a moment and Spectre was, too. He had never heard of having a bright future ahead of him. He had already known, however, that the name that he had long since cast off was one that Akabane had given him.

“He was a strange boy.” Akabane lamented. “Too smart for his own good. See, we have rules at the orphanage. We are meant to be workers, teachers, not parents. We need to keep the children at arm’s length but Shinobu-kun, he craved parental love and when he realised he wasn’t going to get it from me, or any other member of the staff, he retreated. He realised that very early on and became a quiet, secluded child. Both a bully and a victim. The other children picked on him for being quiet but when he did open up, he would say nasty things to other children.”

“Wow…” Igarashi gasped.

“Mm, it is cruel to speak ill of the dead but he got write up after write up for getting into fights with the boys or terrorising the girls by tearing the heads off their dolls.”

Igarashi laughed and Akabane laughed with her. Spectre’s lips twigged. There’s the moment of realness and veracity that Kyoko had referred to earlier.

“He did have good qualities, however. He loved to read, his favourite book was called Blue Angel. He was even the first child in his age group to transition from reading out loud to reading inside his head. He did that at age four whereas others mightn’t get to that stage until five or six, even as late as seven or eight. It's not a natural skill, it has to be taught, you know.”

“I did not. I’m so used to reading inside my head, I had totally forgotten that it is, indeed, something that needs to be practised. Ah, you can tell I’m a childless woman.” Igarashi laughed. “But wow, he did sound like a smart boy. Is that a factor in why you believe he wouldn’t go somewhere with a stranger or…?”

“I think it's best if you lay out the details of the case now, Igarashi-san.” Akabane replied.

“Ah, yes, this is a good segue point indeed now that we know a little bit about the missing child in question.” Igarashi agreed.

Spectre prepared himself for what was the official timeline of events. He was curious about how much of it would align with his own recollections of it as well as the actual timeline of events. He tried not to ponder the sadness of Akabane’s bittersweet voice, also.

He had always been her pet project. She had tried and tried again to get him to behave whilst still not allowing herself to get too close to him emotionally. The social workers and matrons had to provide stability and continuity but they couldn’t do that the same way a parent he could. The only way he ended up knowing how to was to sit on the edge of the playground by himself. That was better than him getting into fights, after all.

“Eleven years ago on the edge of Den City, Japan. It is early autumn. A little boy of six years goes missing but no one realises immediately. This little boy has a tendency to disappear. He had a favourite place that he liked to go to, a secret base of sorts, like many children have. His is the biggest tree in the forest, hiding underneath its roots or climbing up its branches. He has a lot of fun playing at this one specific tree and goes to this place as often as he can.

“Because of this, none of his caretakers at the orphanage he belongs to is alarmed when he doesn’t come home straight away. He’s out there for hours at a time, until after sundown but usually, he is back in time for dinner. Today, however, he was not. He also wasn’t back for breakfast or lunch the following day. We now have about twenty-four hours ellipsed and as most true crime junkies can tell you, the first three hours of a missing children’s case is urgent, then the first forty-eight hours. It is not until seventy-two hours later that the orphanage begins to realise something is amiss. Akabane-san, what are you and your coworkers thinking at this time, may I ask?”

“I am bound to certain NDA’s, I would like to point out. But we are not panicking. We think he is hurt, yes, but we think we know where he is. He’s a bit like a cat, I think. He comes and goes, we honestly thought he was back already and no one had noticed because he was in the orphanage somewhere or at his favourite play place: the tree he was found under.” Akabane said.

“I see.” Igarashi said.

“We have been accused of child neglect because of our disgraceful wait. We don’t involve the police until we, ourselves, had looked for him both in the orphanage and in the part of the forest that he knew he frequented the most.” Akabane said. “It isn’t until we can’t find him that we realise, we need more manpower. Yes, it is like him to not listen to us or hide but this, we finally began to realise, was different.”

Spectre hummed. He’d never actually been told how long they waited for them to look for him. He wondered who eventually got the alarm to raise. He wished Akabane had mentioned that. Maybe it was her, maybe it was another child from the orphanage. Who knows.

“Police arrive quite swiftly. They scour the surrounds, the orphanage, they ask around for witnesses but the head matron at the orphanage is taken for questioning. More often than not, children are harmed by those closest to them so she is interviewed but nothing comes of it. No abuse allegations arise, the story is consistent amongst both staff and the children: this boy is a chronic runaway. So police concur with the conclusion that the orphanage had come to this instance: Morishita Shinobu had run away.”

“It's very scary to remember. I really admired the head of the orphanage. I was terrified that perhaps something had happened to Shinobu-kun and…” Akabane murmured.

“And there had been. Police continued to develop and investigate a theory that Shinobu had run away and gotten into trouble. What that trouble looked like was undetermined but as no suspicious persons had come forward, no witnesses had come forward saying there had been any unusual happenstance, and so forth. So the process of elimination continued on, Occam’s Razor prevailed.

“They decided this child must have gotten into a misadventure. He had broken his arm or his leg, he had hit his head, he was dehydrated or starving. Any number of these things could be applied to him and he had found some gully or ditch to hide in and two weeks later, it was decided that this hypothetical was reality. They had expended what manpower they could, the tip line dried up, and the orphanage was investigated for other reasons. They decided that Morishita Shinobu had perished due to the elements, he was dead by misadventure, body not found. A death certificate was issued.”

“Those two weeks. They were agonising. We wanted to find him, if only to give him a proper burial and ceremony.” Akabane said. “We were so certain that he was dead. He should have been, already, because he had survived the harsh conditions of the wilderness once as an infant, perhaps his luck ran out. We were investigated for our care of other children but… They said some very awful things. They were glad the bully was gone. They said lovely things about our care and management of the place and were certain it was finally going to get better now that the quote-unquote ‘freak’ was gone.”

“But he wasn’t.” Igarashi quietly said.

“He wasn’t.” Akabane replied.

Their sadness was palpable but Spectre was reeling with laughter. Freak! Freak he was a freak to the other children, they were glad he was gone! He had always thought as such. And yet here these adults were, miserating over how cruel children could be and the fact that his presumed death had mattered so little to them.

But he wasn’t. He still wasn’t. He was alive and well.

“He was found in a hospital, six months later. This is part of the NDA. I will talk around it as politely and distantly as I can but Morishita Shinobu-kun, he was still alive and he had been taken to a hospital because of, um, erm… A team of good samaritans. He was still sound of mind so when they asked who he was, where he was from, he replied obediently and we were contacted. Of course, there were problems. He was legally dead but some even thought maybe he was lying…? He was trying to take the dead boy’s identity for some reason but I don’t know. Can a six year old do that?”

“It happened in two different occasions in America, a child under the age of ten has tried to assume the identity of dead or missing children.” Igarashi very helpfully piped up.

“Oh, okay, then it isn’t out of the realm of possibility then. I work with children but couldn’t tell you if they would be so scheming, conniving or otherwise.” Akabane murmured. “Used to work with children, I mean.”

“So Morishita Shinobu-kun, he is found in a hospital, he is taken home to you guys and he goes missing again. Three days later after being returned to your care.” Igarashi said.

“Yes.” Akabane confirmed.

Three days…? Spectre felt it was simultaneously longer and shorter than that. He loved the Incident but he hated the aftermath. He had hit and kicked and punched and even bit the “good samaritan” who had “rescued” him from captivity. He wanted so badly to stay. He didn’t want to go back and he sure as hell did not want to go to a hospital.

It was at the hospital where the worst of the abuse he felt he endured occurred. He was talked over, spoken about like he wasn’t even in the room, and invasively touched to make sure he was “okay”. That he was all in one piece, if they were convinced his mind wasn’t. He hated how the doctors and nurses refused to believe him when he said he had enjoyed it, that he had had fun. They were disguised with him and so was Akabane.

She was the one the orphanage had sent to collect him. He had been excited to see her at first. She had always tried, after all. He remembered that and she had admitted it in this audio recording. Spectre had been wildly hopeful that finally, they would connect. That she would get it.

She didn’t.

She had even hit him - impulsively - when he got too excited, too scary about this awful, terrifying thing that he had been put through and had put the orphanage through by disappearing.

That was the only time she had ever struck a child and that was the only time he had ever been struck by an adult. That’s how Spectre knew it was serious that he shut up and run away. He wasn’t going to get anywhere fast with what he wanted if he stayed. He wanted his Mother.

Of course, unsurprisingly, Akabane was not going to confess to hitting a child in her care. They moved on and Spectre moved on with them. He kept listening, his attention was rapt, he couldn’t lie.

“So the orphanage takes Morishita Shinobu-kun back to the orphanage where he becomes even more isolated than before. The children who had been glad to hear he was gone, were not thrilled he was back. His six months are unknown.”

“Even to us.” Akabane added.

“And then he disappears again. For good this time.”

“Correct.” Akabane confirmed.

“For those three days at the orphanage, what were they like?” Igarashi asked.

“Difficult. He was even more unsettled than before, the children were unwelcoming. Getting him to meal times was a struggle, he ate in his bed more often than not. Then he disappears.” Akabane said.

“How did that happen? Were you guys not watching him? Or did he escape?” Igarashi asked.

“We were lax. I will admit. He was shutting down so we thought it was fine to give him some space. Presumably… Presumably-” Akabane’s voice cracked and Spectre was certain he knew what she was thinking right now. “He had been through a lot and needed to process. Once again, we thought he would be back straight away. Where else did he have to go? It's a bit like the boy who cried wolf. When we contacted the police that he was gone, they mockingly asked us if we had waited seventy-two hours again before ringing.”

“...Did you?” Igarashi asked.

“No. I think it was only three hours this time. We wanted him back straight away. Even though he were certain where he would be, at his favourite play place, he wasn’t there.” Akabane said.

“How long did this investigation go on for? Two weeks again?” Igarashi said.

“A month.” Akabane said. “But once again, there were no witnesses, no reports of suspicious people or vehicles. He just disappeared. Police tried harder this time with a foul play route but once again, with his history, it just seemed so much more likely that he had succumbed to the elements somewhere. That he was trying to stay hidden, he had run away for real.”

“You mentioned he was smart, do you think he would be smart enough to evade fully grown adult police? To live off the land or find somewhere else to live?” Igarashi asked, she sounded incredulous.

The answer, Spectre knew, was no. He was not smart enough to do that on purpose. He was just lucky. He was smart enough to travel only by dark, yes, and how to start a fire to stay warm but he hadn’t been smart enough to bring more than the clothes on his back. Then again, it was an impulsive thing. If his Mother Tree wasn’t there for him, then maybe the Incident would be and he had been right.

Ryoken had found him. A suspicious person, perhaps, but as an eight year old? Not really. Two boys alone in a storm, out having fun splashing in puddles as they walked home. Not an overly concerning scene.

“No. He was only six.” Akabane said. “I think this time, he got into the trouble we had initially thought he would. He broke his arm or maybe a leg, he found some hidey-hole and he is still there to this day, I imagine. I think we will find him again one day, but I may not be alive to see that day but I do think, one day, he will be found.”

“I hope so, too.” Igarashi said.

Spectre glanced at the current timestamp. There wasn’t actually much left of the podcast episode, he realised from it.

“That’s a beautiful thought, Akabane-san.” Igarashi continued. “But as you can imagine. A disappearance of a small child, even one who was reportedly a bully, is enough to stir the imagination and denial. There are alternative theories as to what happened. Are you aware of them?”

“I am but I am confident in the report that was given at the end of this ordeal. The orphanage, the coroner, and the police all agree that Morishita Shinobu-kun is dead. May he rest in peace.” Akabane said, her voice was decisive.

“You don’t even want to give yourself the hope that he’s alive?” Igarashi asked.

“This case is resolved as far as I am concerned. I was hoping to dispel rumours.” Akabane confirmed.

“Fair enough.” Igarashi hummed. “But I do have some audience participation questions I would like to ask on their behalf. Is it okay if I ask them? Just three.”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Akabane replied.

“Question one, what was the aftermath of his second disappearance like? I’m kind of bundling another question in here but if you like, did he get another funeral? Was there even a first funeral?” Igarashi asked.

“There were two funerals. One more serious than the other, as you would imagine. The second time he went missing, there was a naive air of children thinking he would be back. Again.” Akabana began to explain.

Igarashi hummed, “I see.” she added.

“The original cohort who had been there when he went missing the first time had already begun to phase out so there were a lot of children who barely knew him. They were more respectful than those who had either been bullied by him or had bullied him but it was still quite strange. Especially since some children had already been familiar with death thanks to their own circumstances, so they disagreed with being dragged into even more of it through Shinobu-kun.

“I’m glad they happened though,” Akabane said, “but I won’t lie. If we could have a third funeral with his remains, have them cremated and properly interred, that would mean a lot to me.”

“I’m sure it would.” Igarashi nodded. “Sounds complicated, I can’t imagine having to wrangle so many mixed opinions belonging to children. Death is hard to grapple with and process at any age but especially when it's under such odd circumstances like Shinobu-kun’s, and with prior trauma from their own circumstances.”

“Indeed.” Akabane murmured.

Spectre could imagine it, however. The orphanage’s mess hall, his picture up and incense lit for him at one end of the table, all the placements set and filled. Everyone wearing black but the grandiosity of the occasion of a funeral’s wake was lost on all the children.

“Question two, I know you said you do not believe he is alive but there is a prevailing theory that if he is alive, then he was involved with the Incident from last year involving the Link VRAINS. This is, admittedly, a far-fetched theory but it is mentioned here and there online so I would like to bring it up due to its popularity as a wild card theory.” Igarashi began to give context to her question, cuing it up.

Spectre was actually aware of this theory. It amused him on account of being so close to being so right. They actually posted here and there about it in an effort to cook up as much doubt on it as possible. The crazy theory only the real weirdo conspiracy theorists would believe in an effort to discredit it since it was real and true. Perhaps SOL Tech might have to do more clean-up since it was apparently going mainstream, if only as a pet to laugh at like it sort of seemed here in Igarashi’s words as she finally got to her point.

“Previous Security Manager Kitamura Daigo-san encountered one of the cyber terrorists involved with the Tower of Hanoi Incident and some people have noticed a startling likeness between this man and Morishita Shinobu-kun. He does somewhat match a few interpretations of Shinobu-kun’s aged forward likenesses the police have matched over the years. Do you have a take on that?” Igarashi asked.

“Coincidence. Seeing connections where there aren’t any. The Link VRAINS uses user generated avatars, there is a slim possibility that a criminal at large designed his avatar using Shinobu-kun’s age progressed portraits as inspiration but I think it is coincidence at best.” Akabane said. “Portraits the orphanage have never endorsed, I would like to point out. The police are keeping that lead open purely because of public speculation. They, like us, still believe he is dead.”

Spectre chuckled to himself. It was this rough, barky chuckle at the bottom of his throat. Akabane was hilarious. She really, truly had no idea. That was good for them, the Knights of Hanoi, he supposed. But this question time, it was really good! He was enjoying it.

Then the tone of voice changed. The final question. Igarashi, the hostess, spoke up once more. She got serious.

“Alright, well, this is from me rather than my audience, but for the third and final question of the episode: if there was one last thing that you could tell him, dead or alive, what would it be?” Igarashi asked.

“I would want to tell him I’m sorry.” Akabane said and her voice cracked. Spectre could practically hear the tears streaming down her face as she remained composed enough to continue her interview. “I tried my best but I do not believe I did my best for you.”

Spectre choked on his breath. The reaction was involuntary. One minute, he had been laughing. The next, he was crying. He was sobbing, he tried his best to withhold a noise from his mouth but it was impossible. He felt like a child, trying to curl up into a foetal position, trying to curl up into a lap to be consoled but he was alone. Just himself and the ghost of Akabane's words. He felt a fat, swollen tear streak down the side of his face so he buried himself in his pillow. The earphone fell out of place but that made Akabane’s sorrow and regret all the more genuine to Spectre. It wrenched deep in his heart, in his soul…

“I had the most responsibility over you, being the one to find you. I’m sorry I lost you, again and again. I should have been the one to keep finding you. I wish I could have given you that love you wanted but I could not give due to my duties. I regret that very much. You were so smart and troublesome, yes, but I find it more endearing now than at the time. I’m sorry, I wish you could have lived well.” Akabane said.

Her speech was eloquent. Her words were as soft and sweet as honey dripping off a dipper. She was just choked up enough so the audience, the listeners, could hear her tears without being a garbled mess. It was clear to Spectre that she had rehearsed this speech, that she had held onto it so tightly, crafting it over the years just for this opportunity.

It was selfish. It was mostly for her.

So that she, too, could become a victim of this case. A martyr, also. The sweet, kind orphanage worker who had done her best but her best wasn’t enough in the face of such strange and mysterious circumstances.

Spectre felt his blood pressure go up. He was revolted. He was consoled. He had always felt like a ghost but this... This was completely different. He was listening to his own eulogy. It wasn't even a simile, that is exactly what it was.

“That was… That was, wow. My breath has been taken away, that was very beautiful, Akabane-san. Thank you for sharing that with us.” Igarashi said. “Thank you for asking to come on my show at all. I appreciate it.”

“I appreciate you providing a space for me to talk about these things. They have weighed heavy on my shoulders for the past eleven years. Perhaps, I can move forward now with this finally behind me. I’ve said my peace. I simply hope I’ve put this case to rest, as much as I can.” Akabane said, her breath was shaky.

“I think you have.” Igarashi consoled her.

There was a chime and that was the audio cue for Spectre to realise that Igarashi was all alone. Closing remarks ensued. Just a quick rehash of his sob story and thank yous to the audience for listening, credits for the music and sound editing, and so forth. Spectre paused it before the timestamp could complete and the next episode could roll on.

Spectre pulled himself up and he was trembling. He felt weak in his arms but heavy in his legs. His cheeks were wet but drying from the tears that he had cried. He had been fine until… until that last reply to the final question.

The host wasn’t wrong. Akabane’s words were beautiful. They had been perfectly chosen to convey these feelings of dredged up turmoil, of her failure and her regret and it was cathartic to hear that she had failed him. That she hadn’t tried her best. That she still cared for him, even though he had been a painful, difficult child.

And yet it was a spit in the face in the very same breath.

Where to next now? Spectre asked himself. He was half glad that Akabane’s words had reached the very person whom she was talking to but it's not like he could tell her that they had. That they had moved him.

Well, where to next was… Spectre had better return Kyoko’s MP4 to her. He could do that, at the very least. His nose wrinkled. Kyoko likely didn’t realise it but she and Akabane were quite similar. Both red-heads and he was in both their care. At one time or another. That amused him.

He was glad that he had listened to it. His head throbbed and his heart hurt but it was worth it to open these old wounds, Spectre felt.

Yes, listening to this podcast was akin to opening Pandora’s box but the thing which remained in her box, after all the monsters and horrors were released, was hope. Spectre could take some pleasure, not a lot, in knowing he was alive and he was living well, just like Akabane wished. He had simply been found by who was meant to find him.

#yugioh #vrains #yugioh vrains #spectre (vrains)#writing tag #a podcast about you

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