libraryassistants: (Default)
Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account ([personal profile] libraryassistants) wrote in [community profile] unfinishedlibrary2025-11-14 08:20 am

It's a beautiful day in the village - TAKE A LOAD OFF, LOG 1

Who: Readers and Actors
What: Beta Story Start - At the start of any particular Story, characters will be drawn to a section of the Stacks. Those inclined to resist will find themselves there anyway, through the shifts and changes inherent to the Library's structure. The Story manuscript will be laid out neatly on a side table, its pages lit by a faint aura that draws focus and beckons insistently to the Editors. Touching it will bring them into the Story.
Characters can either voluntarily touch the Story to enter it, or the Librarian will eventually sweep them in. Regardless of how long it takes them to enter, everyone will arrive at the same point in time.
When: November 14- November 27
Where: Woodhurst (UK) and the SS Radiance (in space!), 2019
Content warnings: Please tag warnings in comment headers!

In Woodhurst

It’s another Monday morning in Woodhurst, and as is often the case for the United Kingdom in the fall, it is raining. It is, all in all, a rather typical Monday morning. People shuffle off to work, dropping by the various cafes and shops for their morning caffeine. Polite (if meaningless) greetings are exchanged, vague comments about the weather are made. Heads down, trudging along, just keeping things going.

By midday, it’s clear that this Monday is a little bit… different. There are some people who seem especially cheerful and helpful. Perhaps you’ve just been served a free upsize of your morning coffee. Or a stranger held an umbrella up for you. People keep talking about the benefits of yoga? And it’s not just a bunch of people seeming to be having an especially good day and paying it forward (that would be strange enough). Some of your friends and loved ones aren’t acting like themselves, aside from being remarkably cheerful. They don’t seem to remember basic things, don’t know their normal rituals, and are generally just very off. You think one of them might have blinked sideways? Whatever it is that’s happened, it doesn’t seem right.

As for those ‘friends and loved ones’… The novices from the Interstellar Group are largely inexperienced with such a thing as covert operations. Fresh off the ship and with no frame of reference, their human disguises may have a few significant flaws.

However many fingers it is they have, they’re keen to help - perhaps a little too much so. Whatever it takes to make these human lives easier, whatever they can do to help them relax - the Group are on it! Hopefully they’ll catch on quietly.


On the IMW Group Supply Ship: Radiance

No plan survives contact with the enemy, is how the saying goes. But within the Interstellar Mindfulness & Wellness Group, the concept is usually applied to patients. Patients are, almost entirely across the board, unpredictable creatures - and while the science behind wellness is robust, there’s simply too much individual variation for a standardised approach. That being said, this particular plan seems to be going… rather more poorly than expected. It starts to break down once the word ‘kidnapping’ is brought up. It’s such an ugly word to use. The Group tries to avoid it. But in some of these cases, the humans need the Group’s own facilities! The idea was to convince the humans to follow them to a very not suspicious space capsule, or to get them to touch this particularly strange teleportation device, and they’d be on their way to recovery. However, most if not all the humans seem to be reacting… quite negatively to that. It’s almost like they don’t understand that this is for their benefit!

The ship is very nice, and perfectly designed to relax and comfort (--for the species the Group are familiar with, at least). Soothing music plays along the spaceship’s halls, which are lit in a soft violet glow. Potted plants are artfully displayed, though none of them are recognisable as any species found on Earth. For those with a sensitive nose, the flowers give off a bright, delicate scent; not unlike that of lavender and lemon myrtle. An entire stretch of glass is dedicated to the view outside, the Earth looking so serene from this distance; stars shining in the space around it.

For those Aliens aboard the mothership, maybe you’re delivering this hour’s yoga session. Maybe you’re leading a group chant or meditation. Are you perhaps talking humans into resting in the healing spa, or - for those so inclined - are you delving deeper, forming a connection, and really getting to know these humans? For the humans… well, at least the spa looks really nice, right?

[Space Spa Features:
Yoga - you’ve been herded into a room where a flexible alien encourages you to breathe deeply; holding it in your stomach and feeling your heart beat before letting it out in a big sigh. The routine is not very different to yoga on Earth, except… well, if you can’t find your proboscis, maybe that particular pose won’t work for you.
Sauna - the heat promotes circulation, but the temperature in here seems to be a little off.
Spa - you know what a spa is. Or, you thought you did. It looks like the aliens aren’t quite on the same page. Where there would normally be cucumbers, there’s a strange pink fruit. Where you’d expect water, there’s… a viscous fluid, gently rotating through a myriad of colours, that seems to soften and soothe your muscles as you soak in it.
And Others - the aliens have no shortage of remedies for what ails you! Since this is their first time experiencing humans, results may vary.]


Optional prompts (player-run):
An alien adrift, unsure what task to complete? Seek guidance from your leader.

In Woodhurst, unnerved and skeptical? Drop in at your local seedy bookshop to chat with some alien enthusiasts.

[Have a plan to drive the Story direction? Let us know, and we’ll add it to the list!

Info post can be found here.]
extrasaltypotato: (Mitsuko wait what)

Hikaru Aozora > Michiko Tsukuda

[personal profile] extrasaltypotato 2025-11-15 12:05 am (UTC)(link)
[OOC: Prompts in comments]
dreamquestion: (It is what it is)

DREAM PALACE | Randolph OTA

[personal profile] dreamquestion 2025-11-15 12:10 am (UTC)(link)
There's a bookshop just off the main street of Woodhurst that everyone knows and few people actually visit, a narrow thing that goes back uncannily deep, filled to the brim with shelves and loose towers of books, in disparate but consistent genres: occult and sci-fi, xenobiology and xenophilia, fiction and "fact" - and towards the entrance, a small selection of various wellness books in deference to the fact tourists keep thinking it's a massage parlour.

(To be fair the windows are curtained at all hours, and music is often playing quietly from inside; though the music varies from anything from synth instrumentals to punk metal to glam rock, but consistently with a heavy emphasis on drums.)

And the owner himself is That Weird/Chill Old Guy, also known as Randy Howard, who's owned the place for what seems like forever, and is always eager to talk about his stock. It's easy to find him having a smoke on the bench outside his shop during the day, but it's ostensibly open twenty-four hours a day. Feel free to drop in whenever you like, and he'll always be happy for a chat!
bashasasdemon: (Kai [Exhausted])

Kai | Actor

[personal profile] bashasasdemon 2025-11-15 12:22 am (UTC)(link)
SS Radiance - Office

This is a fucking mess already.

Kaiisteron, one of the few senior level Group members on this particular... excursion, had felt it was probably a bad idea to start. But this kind of idealism was the sort of thing the Group had in spades, especially among the younger members who didn't have the chance to be jaded yet. That didn't make the actual process of trying to keep things under control any easier of course.

He's already getting reports of having to restrain some of the humans from lashing out and harming themselves or others, and first wave of the attempts at on-site care are... not doing well. That's why anyone entering the Kloax's office will find him leaning back with his palms in his black eyes, groaning at the prospect of another problem being brought to him. "What is it?" he asks, and he really hopes you are, for once, bringing him good news.

SS Radiance - Therapy Time!

Even with his reservations about the mission itself, Kaiisteron is still committed to his role in it and in providing care when he can. He's not going to force anyone into therapy- it doesn't really work that way. (The rest of it is different, ok. Probably.) But he does let people sign up and lets some of the other counselors who've noted those potentially in need assign him some people to talk.

Which is how you, dear human (or... human adjacent, or whatever) wind up in a simple but soothing office, opposite a man (??) with gray-brown ridges up his otherwise humanoid body instead of skin. There's the option for them to sit in either a comfy chair or some sort of fainting couch (which is a little too big for most humans, but better that than the alternative). "Hi," he says, and there's a gentle smile on his face and a musical quality to his voice, "I'm Kaiisteron; I'm one of the Group's therapists. So, first of all: have you ever done a session like this before? I know Earth has some, but I don't get the impression that everyone has access."

[If you would like to sign up for therapy with Kai, drop me a comment here just so I don't get overwhelmed, lol.]

SS Radiance - Yoga

When not doing therapy, Kaiisteron can also be found running some yoga classes; he's no Leairans, but he's plenty flexible and definitely strong. Moreover, during holds he lets out a click from the back of his throat to help count the time, a soothing, steady rhythm that's grounding and seems to settle in the chest, making it all the easier to relax into whatever ridiculous pose they're currently holding.

Woodhurst - On Site Care

Despite feeling like this whole side of things is an even worse idea, Kaiisteron does assume a human form of his own to check out things that are happening in the village. Need some help figuring out how to human? Well... he's a bad pick for it, but he's all you've got, so might as well ask.

His human form at least looks like his normal appearance, for any Readers who spot him- only minus the veil, and minus the black eyes.
bashasasdemon: (Kai [Talking])

[personal profile] bashasasdemon 2025-11-15 12:31 am (UTC)(link)
What.

Kaiisteron stops outside the bookstore- the familiar bookstore. Here. On Earth. He would contemplate the odds, but maths has never been his strong point and oh look he's walking purposefully inside already, ok.

He walks up to the desk, looking around, but realizing that wouldn't do him any good. Not if this is what he thinks it is, who could be here. He doesn't look like himself, after all. So he starts tapping on the table, a steady, pulsing rhythm. The beat of a far off planet, one that perhaps could still be called home even after so long apart.
shelloflight: (determined)

1: We Don't Need No Education (CW bullying, sophmoric humor.)

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
1A: Hey Teacher, Leave Those Kids Alone
[Well, the day is proper buggered from the start. Michiko Tsukuda's parents insisted on the skirt in her uniform, despite the dress code allowing trousers, though at least her helmet and trenchcoat protected her from the rain. Mostly. Wet stockings? The worst, off they go, good thing she had spare shoes in the locker.

But the cruelest blow is when roll call happens in her first class and the substitute teacher - a freakishly tall teacher, some hippie granola twit with hair longer than most of the girls - read off her name.]


"Succ-U-da, Michiko?"

[And the bastard just blinked - that was a blink, right? - uncomprehending as the entire class laughed or sniggered, and she sunk six inches into her chair, face burning.]

"TSU-KU-DA! It's pronounced TSU-KU-DA, sound out each syllable, the- the bloody T's not silent!"

[And the teacher apologized, but the damage was done. Anyone wanna make things better? Anyone wanna make things worse?]

1B: If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding!
[The hammer fell at lunch, of course.

She grimaces at the stacked boxes with the floral pattern in her lunchbox and makes a silent prayer that what's in there is Normal and not mockable - and...

For a moment it seems her prayers are answered, as the first box has a ham and cheese sandwich, cut neatly into triangles, and a little side cups of pickles, tomato, lettuce, mayo and mustard, and Michiko sighs relief.

Until one of the rugby shitheads stands behind her and loudly asks:]


Hey, Succ-Your-Da! How much did me da pay you to suck him?

[She takes a deep breath as his mates caw laughter, then turns and looks him in the eye.]

Twenty quid. Would have been five but your mum wanted to watch.

[There is a long glorious beat of silence as he absorbs this, and that his mates are laughing at him, before he slams Michiko's face into her lunch boxes. Or tries, as Michiko twists out from under him and flings the contents of her thermos at him. Which happens to be lukewarm ramen noodle soup.

After that, the food fight is fucking on. Anyone want to leap to her defense, or just have an excuse to throw a slice of pizza?]


1C:No Dark Sarcasm In The Classroom!
[After that being in detention is inevitable. Michiko Tsukuda sighs and gets out her phone.]

Mum? Yeah I'm - I'm in detention again. No, it's not - look, I'll explain later, just... letting you know I'll be late. ...hai, shikata ga nai. I don't know how I keep getting in here with grades like mine either. Will stop by the bookstore, may bring friends after. Mhm. ...Love you too mum. Ja ne.

[And then she slumps, and starts doing her homework as long as she's here.

Detention's not so bad. Most of her friends are here. Are you one of them?]
Edited 2025-11-15 00:37 (UTC)
shelloflight: (how do I look?)

2: You Must Be This Cool To Hang

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
2A: You either Skate or you Die
[Things start to get better after school. Off goes the uniform, on goes denim jeans and her shirt with Paragon's blue triangle emblem on a white field and her overcoat. Michiko loves to ride her motorbike, and she also isn't half bad with a skateboard, and she is here to meet with Delinquent Sentai Teenranger.

Er, her friends who jokingly call themselves the Troubled Teen Troupe. She pops her helmet off, shakes out her hair, and slides off her backpack with practiced poise and ease.]


Hey. Got some chocosticks and Doritos, and Mum said we can go to my place after, I've got a Swop and the new Bambino Kart. Anyone learned any new tricks?

2B: Netflix and No Chill, Chill Is Forbidden
[Her room is pretty big, a fact that her Da won't shut up about when he goes on his tears about how much Michiko owes him and why must she be such a tomboy etc. etc. But who cares, it's her room that she can invite her friends to and her parents respect her privacy, decorated with wallscrolls of the latest, including a very risque one of a Masamune Shirow cyborg assassin who looks more naked in her armor and skinsuit than naked but technically shows nothing.

Wanna play games? She's got games. Wanna watch anime and sci fi? Her collection is decently broad and carefully curated, and a quarter of it is fandubs on VHS. Wanna make out? Too bad, her mom's just outside.]


Gentlemen, ladies, and other esteemed guests, what should we do first?
Edited 2025-11-15 00:49 (UTC)
shelloflight: (bargain bin manga day)

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
A familiar face pops out of a familiar helmet.

"Allo again, Mr. Howard!" Michiko says brightly, possibly with some Punk Kids in tow. "Have you got the latest from Stross and Scalzi in today?"

For all her friends may be punks, Michiko is one of Randy's best customers, with a voracious taste for science fiction and fantasy.
starandhope: (005)

Min'a Mu'rray (Actor) | OTA

[personal profile] starandhope 2025-11-15 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
SS Radiance; Enthusiastic newbie;

Min'a, a young Revanian who is ridiculously chipper and excited to be on her first official assignment for the Group, can be found in various parts of the ship, preparing for sessions, eating lunch and chatting with colleagues, and just generally being incredibly enthusiastic about this whole mission.

"Is this your first assignment? It's my first assignment," she will eagerly explain to you, her fellow Group members. "I hope I do all right! These humans sound like they could really use our help."

SS Radiance; Therapy;

If you are a hapless human (or whatever) assigned to Min'a's therapy sessions, welcome! Her office is a soothing pallette of greige, broken up only by the potted plants that are so exotic to Earthlings' eyes. But she's done her homework - not only does she have comfortable seating, she's also got a carafe of water, a couple of glasses, and a box of Kleenex on a table!

"Welcome," she offers with a warm smile, happy to be here, eager to help. "Please, have a seat. Everyone has a story. I want to hear yours, if you're willing."

Woodhurst;

It's important that Min'a get a taste of the local culture, so she's taking a day or two, wearing a (probably slightly awkward) human disguise, exploring the town and trying to be inconspicuous. It's very possible that her ears are still a little too pointy to be human.

"What lovely flowers!" she exclaims at a flower shop. "What species are these?"

Or, at a music store, "What an interesting tune! Who is the artist?"

Or find her at the supermarket, examining boxed dinners or something.

Wildcard;

Have some other idea? Drop a starter and I'm happy to roll with it!
ultimateedgehog: (Default)

Shadow (Prime) | Actor (human)

[personal profile] ultimateedgehog 2025-11-15 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
[the Stacks, before the Story]
Shadow the hedgehog finds himself by the open book before he's aware his feet have carried him there. He gets so far as a hand raised, reaching toward the book -- before he realises what he's doing and jerks back, quills bristling and eyes momentarily shocked; their usual ruddy brown quickly gleaming to a sharp red glare.

"What is this." He hates it. The draw, the pull. The coaxing feeling to touch the book, that shimmering aura of power. Even now his arm is twitching with the urge to reach out. (His hands curl into tight, rebellious fists by his sides; teeth grit hard in a snarl. He'd rather destroy the book than touch it.) "This compulsion -- how are they powering this?"

And how does he turn it off.

[Woodhurst - General]
Nobody escapes the Story's pull. However it happened - whether he went willingly or whether the Librarian had to shove him in - Shadow is here now. He'll blow up about it later.

But for right now... Shadow the human is a regular sight around Woodhurst. You'll hear the sound of his skates before you see him, the rolling of something hard against asphalt or concrete. He's not polite as he speeds by, wireless earphones blocking out any protests as he hops the curb to dodge traffic (pedestrian or otherwise).

There are plenty of opportunities to catch him. Stalled by a crowd or waiting in line for his coffee. Unlacing his skates outside the grocery store. Yanking down the roof access ladder of the abandoned video rental shop, or hanging out at the skate park.

Or, perhaps-

[At the Dream Palace]
Randy has a strict rule about Shadow's skates, which starts and ends with "no". So the teen stomps around in Heeleys instead, gliding along the polished floor whenever he thinks he'll get away with it. (Which is, let's be real: all the time.)

Shadow doesn't wear a uniform, or a lanyard, or even a badge to identify him as being staff. The most customer service you'll get out of him is when you pick up a book in his line of sight, and he scoffs at the choice. Given the shirt he's wearing - something that can aptly be described as three wolf moon but aliens - it's pretty clear he has a lot of Opinions about this stuff.

Eventually, he may slide by (literally; the plastic wheels of his shoes are rather quiet on the hardwood floors) and thrust a book out to the browsing customer. Aliens Among Us, the title reads. Additional text is splashed across the cover, proclaiming it to be: A definitive guide to the extraterrestrial.

"You'll need this," he says. Dead serious about his offering.
Edited 2025-11-15 01:58 (UTC)
starandhope: (010)

[personal profile] starandhope 2025-11-15 01:59 am (UTC)(link)
Min'a has been going into every shop on the high street, in a methodical sort of way, because that's what humans do when they go shopping, right? Maybe not exactly.

Still, when she steps into this one, she pauses, glancing around. There may be a book or two that catch her eye - books that she never expected to see on Earth, in a human shop.

"Pardon me, are you the proprietor?" she asks, all innocence. There's a xenobiology book in her hands. It was one of her textbooks in school. "Where did you get this?"
dreamquestion: (Oh shit for real?)

[personal profile] dreamquestion 2025-11-15 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
The desk is unmanned (the till, if anyone was so inclined to try and pop it open on the old relic, only has about twenty pounds in change), but Randy doesn't need to be there to hear it.

There's a creak of wood in the stacks as the familiar beat catches in his chest with a familiarity that aches, almost physically. Not just from the tune that sits deep in his blood, but from the familiar quick tempo of whoever's playing it.

But it couldn't be. Surely not...?

He takes a breath, pushing it through spiracles that make the shirt he is actually wearing flap slightly, before he goes back to the counter, and smiles warmly at the unfamiliar face.

"I do beg your pardon. Can I help you, young man?"
Edited 2025-11-15 02:22 (UTC)
dreamquestion: (Just /listen/--)

[personal profile] dreamquestion 2025-11-15 02:22 am (UTC)(link)
Oh shit, he thought he'd put that one away.

There's a look of surprise for a moment at the genuine article being held in the young woman's hand, before he tilts his glasses up to act like he's getting a better look at it and not quietly cursing himself for not being more mindful.

"Ah, I couldn't tell you, unfortunately!" It's cheerful but apologetic, and also Welsh. "If I kept a list of all the books that have come through here, it'd take a whole shelf! It was on topic and entertaining, so clearly I was willing to pay for it."
bashasasdemon: (Kai [Taken aback])

[personal profile] bashasasdemon 2025-11-15 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
The man who approaches isn't familiar- but then again, Kaiisteron doesn't look anything like himself either. The hair, maybe, but you'd have to replace his skin with his normal brownish-gray ridges and while the projection made his skin a warm brown it's not remotely the same. But there's still something familiar about the man. ...He hopes he's not making that up.

Of course, now that he's here and facing a person, he's realizing he doesn't actually have a plan. "Uh," he says, his finger pausing and disrupting the steady beat; he moves to keep it on his arm, needing the steadying pulse of his planet if he's going to get through this conversation it seems, "Sorry. I'm... visiting the area. Your store caught my eye." Wow, he really can't judge any of the juniors, this is hard. "...My name is Kaiis-- Kai." Kaiisteron is not a human names. He thinks Kai is?
shelloflight: (happy)

Tony Hawk’s Existential Nightmare

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
Oi Shadow, catch!

[And Mitch - as Michiko has never objected to being called - tosses a head-sized object right at him.

It’s a helmet. A motorcycle helmet, in fact, in black, with racing stripes in the teal, pink and gold of Star Aria’s Free World’s Alliance ending in the starburst on the sides - but also with a phoenix emblem trailing flames on the back. The legend “PHOENIX 01 - Xavier - SHADOW” is stenciled on the front.]


Wanted to keep you safe while you’re catching air without cramping your style. Now you can pretend you’re blasting Cydonian sand rats in a Starhawk.

…d’ya like it?
shelloflight: (Default)

Frontier Psychiatry

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
And here is a raven-black haired teenage human in a trenchcoat, white shirt with a curious blue triangle emblem, jeans and boots sitting slumped with her arms crossed. The file says her name is Michiko Tsukuda, and includes the glyphs for it in two Earth languages and three writing systems.

She’s terrified and angry, and is trying to project the latter. If she snaps at Min’a, she doesn’t have to burst into tears after her singularly shitty week at school.

(For which a crewmember infiltrating as a secondary school teacher was partially responsible. Oops. In his defense, how was he to know his misreading of Tsukuda sounded like a vulgar act?)

“When my parents find out about this you xeno creeps are in big trouble. My da knows karate.”

She’s bluffing. Her dad does not know karate, or indeed any martial art. Neither does young Michiko.
Edited (Last typo I swear) 2025-11-15 03:00 (UTC)
ultimateedgehog: (the Less-Grumpy (Conversational?) grump)

[personal profile] ultimateedgehog 2025-11-15 03:20 am (UTC)(link)
[Catch it he does! Skidding to a cool stop with a sharp slide, snatching the helmet out of the air before he realises what the projectile is.

He blinks at it for a moment, turning it over in his hands. Taking in every detail. The colours aren't his first choice, or even his second or third. They're too bright for him, the starburst too cheerful. The phoenix too powerful an image. It doesn't fit at all with the leather strapped around his wrists, or the red streaks in his hair, or the generally 'black and alien' aesthetic he rocks.

He nods once anyway, a short - curt, but genuine - gesture. He's never getting rid of it, he's keeping this forever. Except--]


Just 'Shadow'. [He turns the helmet around to face her, finger touching the Xavier. Of everything about the helmet that doesn't suit his usual preferences, that's his only objection. He'll ride or die anything else Mitch gives him.] Can you fix it?
shelloflight: (are you damn well bloody sure)

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
Easily.

[She whips some black gaffer tape out of her backpack, presses it over the offending name, rips it off.]

I'm not the only one sick of the wrong name today, eh?
Edited 2025-11-15 03:24 (UTC)
hellandbackpack: (pic#18068795)

[personal profile] hellandbackpack 2025-11-15 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
I. Wake up your eyes and darling your smile


Charles wasn't especially interested in academics to be fair. He kept his grades at the level he needed to stay on the cricket team, to keep the school from calling his parents, but otherwise? He was content to spend his time in school goofing off with his friends. So it might be somewhat odd that it was such a common thing to see him among the first students to arrive on any given day.

And here he was again, curly hair windblown, jacket unbuttoned, tie a bit askew but it all added up to an oddly charming sort of air of casualness rather than anything sloppy, A little tired-looking at first, but the moment he sees anyone else, that air is gone, replaced by his usual sunny smile and a short wave in passing to his locker.

Casual as he spun the combination, tugged the handle, only for it to remain stubbornly locked. He frowned in confusion, jiggling the handle before he gave the dial another go. Failing again.

"Startin' to feel personal, mate..." Muttered in a wryly amused tone, aware of someone else nearby, as he tries the dial again, this time pressing his ear against the door of the locker as if he could maybe hear the click of the right numbers like they did in films sometimes. Not that it helped, leaving him stepping back to regard his locker with a huff, hands on his hips.

"Right. Think I need to declare a blood feud. Sacred, passed down through the generations- this locker and I are mortal enemies now," He sounds indignant to be sure, but it's so over the top and theatrical that it earns a giggle from someone else with a more cooperative locker nearby, which was honestly what he was hoping for. "One more chance first, gotta be reasonable, yeah?"

The locker this time? Does open! But as it does so there's an avalanche of books, papers, comics, the entire contents of the locker spilling out over frantic hands trying to stop the slide, right onto the floor and across the tiled hall, earning startled yelps from anyone needing to dodge the mess, or laughter from anyone just loitering to see the mess, earning a pink edge to Charles' ears.



II. I was a kid but I wasn't clueless


In a small town like this, private business never stays truly private for long. Anyone who's lived in Woodhurst for any length of time knew of the Rowlands through the grapevine, husband and wife Paul and Diya, and their thirteen year old son Charles. And they'd also know that things weren't nearly as innocent as they seemed in the neatly-kept house with the cute little front garden. Plenty had tried to intervene over the years, reaching out to Diya, but the woman had sweetly insisted everything was fine with a quiet strain to the smile offered, and calls to the authorities by concerned parties didn't resolve to much of anything either- they couldn't do anything if no one in the household admitted what was happening after all, and all three of them were sticking to the same story- that it never escalated past yelling, that Charles was just a clumsy, excitable sort of boy who was just a bit accident-prone.

So it was hardly a surprise to see the door swing open in the dim evening light, Diya all but pushing her son out the door speaking in hushed tones, gentle but tense, urging him to go for a walk- 'Just until he calms down sweetheart.' He barely had a chance to reply at all as the moment he was clear of the door, it was shut, leaving him standing on the front stoop for a long moment in his oversized coat that was only half-buttoned in the rush. Breathing shakily, he glanced back as if willing the door to open, arms crossing in front of him, fingers fisting tightly in coat sleeves, jaw tensing and working as the door remained stubbornly closed, and he could hear the thunk of the lock.

His movement is slow and hesitant and he stops again when he's off the front steps, hearing the sharp wooden smack of a cabinet door being snapped shut. He froze, listening intently, only to flinch at the indistinct bark of his father's voice in response, tone angry. The boy shuffles a few more steps, but pauses again, clearly torn at the idea of leaving his mother in there.

"S'alright. She said it'd be alright, yeah? Just... just some shoutin' innit-" He muttered quietly to himself, though he didn't entirely sound like he meant it. Charles had never seen his father raise his hand to his mother, had never seen evidence of it, but that didn't stop him fearing that someday it would happen. The attempt at self-soothing would be a lot more convincing if his breathing wasn't quite so shallow and quick.

The bellow of his name in his father's voice, tone angry, demanding, had Charles freezing mid-step, shoulders curling defensively as his nervous gaze darted back towards the door like he was expecting to see it wrenched open, his father's silhouette backlit by the foyer lights. But nothing happened. More yelling as his mother's voice spoke up, a bit sharper to catch attention, but still steady and cajoling, trying to divert her husband's focus. He can't hear what they're saying, just the tones, anger and that tight, nervous sort of fawning, which just makes his anxiety all the worse.

But if he stays... what if he makes it worse? His father's rage always seems to spark all the more heated in his presence, as if something about Charles is so wrong that it infects him too. There's a clear reluctance in the way he slowly trudges down the walk, tension clear in every line of him as he forces his arms to uncross, jamming his hands into his pockets as he tries not to glance back again. Visibly pale, shaken, he can't help the twitch of shoulders higher, or the quiet wince as another bark of a shout echoes out a bit louder.

It's not hard to miss him skulking away down the block, but it's debatable if he'd realize if anyone was talking to him, his normal cheery facade nowhere to be seen in the moment.



III. The day is done and everyone's gone now


It's late to be out, even for adults. Not that this ever stopped Charles- it had become easier once his room had been moved into the basement to sneak out, but he was getting to the point where soon enough he'd be a bit too big to squirm out of the windows, and would have to risk the doors again. That though was a problem for the future. As it was, he'd wandered his way over to where the trains rolled through Woodhurst and taken up a perch on one of the low-slung concrete barriers between the tracks and the dingy little restaurant that sat nearby. It wasn't an out of the way spot, but at this time of night, or early morning depending on your view, it wasn't common for many people to come by. Perfect place to sit and have a think, which the teen seemed to be doing, watching the rustle of foliage on the other side of the tracks with a gaze that didn't seem to be actually focusing on the greenery but staring through it, thoughts a million miles away, the backs of his heels scuffing idly against the concrete of his perch.

It's hard to say what catches his attention should anyone else approach- a snap of a twig, the crunch of gravel, the shadowed shift of light just out of the corner of his eye- whatever the case, he can't help the way he starts visibly, hands snapping to the edges of the barrier to keep himself from tipping, wide eyes darting towards the other.

"Evenin'?" He manages after a startled moment, smile crossing his face all sheepish charm. He should probably come up with what he's doing here, this isn't a restricted area or anything, but people always seem to dislike his loitering around here.

"Just guarding the trains, you know. In case they try anything." It's a stupid excuse, and it's clear he knows it at the cast his grin takes, the soft huff of laughter that threatens to slip from him.


IV. If I'm talking too much then just stop me


Shadow was never going to let anyone forget that he was right the whole time.

That was the first thought Charles had, now that he was on the strange spaceship. Everything about it was sleek, designed to be soothing, which meant it was anything but for the teen. Things had been explained in that patient way that counselors had, and he'd been a bit too gobsmacked to protest at first, mind catching up to him only after he'd been shuffled into one of the communal spaces and left to 'process his feelings' or whatever they expected him to do.

He was caught at first by the sight through the wide panoramic view of the Earth through the window that seemed to dominate one side of the space, padding over to it to gently touch the... glass? Was it glass or some sort of alien force field? Whatever the case, it definitely made the idea of how far away home was hit. Was everyone back home okay? Would his mum worry about him when he didn't come home for dinner?

But that line of thought had something else occurring to him, a detail offered in that initial chat shaking loose and settling like a cold knot in his stomach.

No one would notice. They'd assured him that there was an alien who had been sent to masquerade as him so no one would worry about him while he was getting 'help' but...

A stranger wearing his face was going to be going unknowingly into his house. Was going to be interacting with his family, was going to be interacting with his Father who wouldn't know the difference. They might be kidnapping people do do this therapy, but they didn't seem to be bad and Charles felt distinctly ill at the idea of some unknowing well-meaning person, alien or otherwise, taking hits meant for him.

Which was what had him springing into motion once again, something frantic to the boy's movements as he darted down the halls, looking for someone, anyone that looked like they might be in charge, or at least able to contact the double. Surely they had a way to keep in touch, and they could warn them to... stay away from the Rowland home?


V. WILDCARD


(Want him somewhere else? Have a different prompt? Hit me up!)
shelloflight: (upset)

II

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
There is someone waiting for Charles, ready to help him make good his escape.

Mitch - Michiko, really, but Shadow called her Mitch and she never seemed to mind - doesn't say a word, in her coat and helmet with her motorcyle idling at the end of the block, where she can only make out the loudest screams from his house.

Her presence is an invitation for Charles to ride behind her.
aetherweaver: (concerned)

II

[personal profile] aetherweaver 2025-11-15 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
Nara'a barely knows where he is. He doesn't know what's going on, but as he walks down the street he stops at the sound of a door swinging open. He quietly avoids treading on the grass in front of the house, but when he spots the young boy looking... somewhat cowed.

As the boy skulks down the block, Nara'a follows him. His senses, while dulled in this human guise, are alert nonetheless. He'll keep after the boy until he's noticed, staying a good few paces away. It doesn't seem likely that this kid is going to want to be touched, but he is worried.
hellandbackpack: (pic#18111309)

[personal profile] hellandbackpack 2025-11-15 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
Charles wasn't entirely sure how she'd always seemed to pick up on when things at his house were getting... tense. He was fairly certain he managed to keep a lid on things when they were texting, didn't tend to risk voice chats unless his father was elsewhere for the evening or still at work. And yet here she was yet again, her presence just easing some tense little part of him, earning a thin smile.

Pale still, not quite trusting his voice to be steady, he gave a light one-handed salute as he willingly took the unspoken invitation to mount the bike behind her.
aetherweaver: (uh oh)

Therapy

[personal profile] aetherweaver 2025-11-15 04:08 am (UTC)(link)
He's confused, not totally sure how he got onto this ship. He doesn't even know what 'therapy' is, but he's always down to try something new. He does realize that he's disguised as a hyur - human - and so he probably shouldn't get into anything too fantastical. He's also realized that his weaponry is not on him, so he'll have to resort to different methods of self-preservation if whatever meeting he's in goes sour.

But he allows himself to be ushered in, a little disoriented without his ears and tail, but the white-haired 'human' sits in the offered chair anyway. The creature across from him is like nothing he's ever seen before, but he's polite enough to not stare too openly. "... I haven't, no. I'm afraid I don't even really know what goes on in one of these things."
shelloflight: (determined)

[personal profile] shelloflight 2025-11-15 04:08 am (UTC)(link)
She doesn't always know. Doesn't always make it in time to help. But sometimes she just gets a feeling that she's needed.

She hands him a helmet.

"Put this on," she says, voce as sotto as she can make it. "Arms round my waist."

Safety first, for a nice change of pace from Charley's usual life.
hellandbackpack: (pic#18111369)

[personal profile] hellandbackpack 2025-11-15 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
It takes a short bit, as wrapped in his own drama as he is, for Charles to realize he's got a tail once he stops looking back every few steps. It's when he pauses at the corner, glancing up the street then down it, one last look cast back towards the house where he notices the stranger.

It's likely not a comforting thing how quickly and easily that tense unhappy look melts immediately to something more casually friendly. Muscle memory that, for all there was still strain in the corners of the cheerful smile.

"Alright there, mate?" At least his voice stayed steady. Small favors that in the moment. "Haven't seen you around before... just move in or sommat?"
ultimateedgehog: (pic#18137690)

[Closed to the Shadows]

[personal profile] ultimateedgehog 2025-11-15 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Midnight at the abandoned video store is one of Shadow's favourite places to be. It's quiet out here, and only one person ever comes looking for him. It leaves him free to wait for a clear sky, or to play old videos on the VCR that was left behind as part of the store's display. Not valuable enough to remove or sell, left behind to languish with the cassettes.

It's such a familiar place that he could navigate it with his eyes closed. It's one of the few places he can't skate, the old carpet sticking messily in any wheels, so he's forced to - ugh, walk along the aisles to find the tape he's looking for. ('Looking' is such a word. He knows where it is. He's the one who keeps putting it back there.) And it's that familiarity that makes something about tonight ring as weird, something prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. It's overcast outside, and the only light inside is from the static of the TV screen that he's hooked up to a portable generator. It casts an eerie glow over the shelves, that normally Shadow is fine with--

--but was that a shadow that just flickered on the corner of a shelf? He jerks his head to look, but there is, of course, nothing. He's being paranoid.

...but the locks on these doors haven't worked for years. He's only been here for maybe two minutes. He certainly didn't bother checking every aisle to see if someone else had discovered the goldmine his haunt is, at this late hour of just past midnight.

Hand curling into a fist, he takes a cautious step towards the corner of the aisle. Heart hammering. If it's Charles about to spook him with more ghost stories, swear to God--]

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