#one act

[fuckingwhateverdude]

[zungumi]

Utakata no Koi (Soragumi 2013) subtitles

my very first subtitles! this show ate my brain. i cry every time i hear the blue danube waltz now. rudolf and marie's hamlet-meets-juliet love story absolutely swept me off my feet and i had to share it with everyone i know.

thus: these subtitles (...and i guess all of my subs) are pretty thoroughly localized, and aimed at people who have zero knowledge of japanese. ...i also made a localization choice to just axe franz's mistress's name and call her by her actual historical name, katharina - she's in the cast list as mrs. schratt, but he calls her ミレーネ? make it make sense. if this bugs you please feel free to change it back to your preferred romanization, haha.

also, i did jessica's song by ear so if i've totally botched it, please let me know!

this is the last of the subs i already had done, but keep an eye out, i'm working on a few others - and you can definitely expect hoshigumi's 2018 utakata no koi from me. (and hey, if you have a revue you'd like subbed, i'm pretty much down to do most of them as long as i've got lyrics/CC! hit me up.)

timed to: the dvd, recorded 8/11/13

check my shows page (zungumi dot tumblr dot com slash shows) for the DL!

[jovialtorchlight]

DUFFLEBAG--A PLAY IN ONE ACT

DUFFLEBAG

A play in one act by Jonny Bolduc

CONTENT WARNING: This play contains a depiction of suicide, as well as gunshots, murder, and implied violence against children.

CHARACTERS:

ALEX: A washed up journalist.

AJ: Demon incarnate. 

DETECTIVE: Trying to piece the case together.

BETHANY: Alex’s sister. 

WOMAN/WAITRESS

SCENE 1

LIGHTS come up on an empty newsroom. ALEX, an overweight middle aged man, hangs his coat up on the back of a rolling chair in front of a computer.  SOUNDFX: A police scanner sputtering out a traffic stop. 

 ALEX:

Anyone home? Chuckles. Of course not.  ALEX notices a manila envelope on his keyboard. As he sits down and boots up his computer.  Wonder if those are the Seadog tickets I put my name in for yesterday. 

ALEX is about to open the envelope when the phone rings. As ALEX answers, the lights fade on him and come up on the EDITOR and DETECTIVE sitting at a table downstage. 

DETECTIVE:

Are there any cameras in the newsroom? Security cameras?

  EDITOR:

  Yeah. 

DETECTIVE:

If I got a warrant to look at the footage, it would all be there, right? Everything from Saturday, March 16? No mysterious gaps? 

EDITOR:

Look. I can’t speak for Alex. At this point, if he fucked with the footage, it wouldn’t suprise me. I thought…I thought I knew him. As well as anyone knew him…I never thought he would..

DETECTIVE:

Alright. As far as you know, on Saturday, what time did he get into the newsroom? 

EDITOR:

3:30 p.m. 

DETECTIVE:

Was anyone in the newsroom?

EDITOR: 

No. He worked the skeleton hour, the time between the morning and night shift. When I first started at the journal, the cop beat came in in the morning. But staffing cuts--

DETECTIVE:

I don’t need a history lesson.  I just need to know why Alex did it. 

LIGHTS down on EDITOR and DETECTIVE. Lights up on Alex, speaking on the phone, typing on his computer and eating tortilla chips and salsa. 

ALEX:

Thanks for talking to me on the weekend, Chief Perry. Do you know the condition of the nine year old injured in the crash?  Critical? Ok, thank you. A huge glob of salsa falls onto his shirt. 

Any other information? I understand. I’ll wait for the press release. Have a good weekend. Hangs up. Looks at salsa on his shirt.  Shit.  Raises salsa glob to his mouth and licks it clean.

Good enough.  On his computer, ALEX reads aloud as he types. 

“Dear Mark,

Regretfully, I am writing this letter to inform you that my last day of employment with the Twin Town Journal will on April 1st. 

This dimly lit basement office, stale, moldy.  Sometimes, I feel like I exist inside a slowly rotting carcass. It’s time for me to live. ”

No. I can’t.

ALEX aggressively hits the delete button. ALEX eyes the unopened manila envelope. He opens it. 

Lights down on ALEX, back up on the DETECTIVE and EDITOR. 

DETECTIVE:

Where did Alex sit?

EDITOR:

Alex’s desk was in the back corner of the newsroom.

DETECTIVE: 

Why was he in the corner?

EDITOR: 

Well, he earned it. It’s a hierarchy thing. New reporters were stationed at the front next to the copydesk, mainly so they couldn’t just Facebook all shift, look at cat pictures or pretend like they were answering emails. 

DETECTIVE:

So he was a good employee?

EDITOR: 

At one point.  He won us seven Press Association awards, that he kept framed, and lined up on his desk, reminding us of his best work.  2012, an unreplicated year. The rest of the years were bad, full of mistakes and errors and mediocrity. But those seven awards kept him in the newsroom. 

DETECTIVE:

Was there ever any problems with his behavior? Anything concerning?

EDITOR:

Every couple years he would be out for a few weeks for an unspecified “emergency.” I learned after the second one that he was admitted to the psyche ward. I don’t know the details, but I summized that he had pretty serious breakdowns every so often. But he never brought that to work. 

LIGHTS HALF DOWN on EDITOR and DETECTIVE, LIGHTS UP ON ALEX. ALEX is reading the letter that was in the envelope.

ALEX:

Fuck. Fuck. Oh god. FUCK. ALEX puts his head in his hands. 

ALEX vomits into the trash can beside him. 

LIGHTS UP on EDITOR AND DETECTIVE.

EDITOR: 

When we searched his desk, we found the note he read underneath a pile of vomit and soda cans. Tell me if you can make any sense of it. 

“A.J.. favor. River behind Bethany’s, Mechanic F., 2:30 a.m., Monday.”

EDITOR:

It’s closed now, but Bethany’s was an ice cream store in Mechanic Falls. As for the rest… who AJ is…I have no idea. 

Back to ALEX.

ALEX:

I think I’m having a fucking heart attack. Fuck. AJ. That crazy goddamn bastard is back. Fuck. Fuck. 

Back to EDITOR. As the EDITOR speaks, the upstage is cleared. 

EDITOR: 

Alex didn’t do much for the rest of the night. Around 9 p.m., he went out for a three vehicle crash, out on Goff Hill.

DETECTIVE:

Yeah. I pulled the report, pieced it together. When Alex got there, police had already shut the road off, so he parked at Denny’s, waved at the cop directing traffic.  Officer Moltisanti knew Alex from other scenes, and said, and I quote, “I thought we were going to have to call an ambulance. He was breathing heavy, like a panting, St. Bernard and he looked really pale. But he walked up the hill. Took some pictures of the crash. Headed back down the hill. We pulled some surveillance photos of Denny’s; he came in at 10:00 p.m., ordered a black coffee, and took out his computer to write the story. 

EDITOR:

He never came back to the office. 

Lights back up on Alex, drinking coffee at a counter.  A waitress is setting a plate of food next to him.

WAITRESS:

Rough night, Alex?

ALEX:

Laughs. Yeah, you could say that. It’s the kind of night that makes me wish I never stopped smoking cigarettes. Do you remember when you could smoke in Denny’s?

WAITRESS: 

Yeah, hon, I do. I’m pretty ancient. 

ALEX:

You’re not ancient. You still got life left in you, Betty. Me, not so much.

WAITRESS: 

What do you mean?

ALEX:

Nothing. Nothing. Thank you for talking to me.

WAITRESS: 

  Are you alright, hon? 

ALEX:

Yeah. I’m ok.

I just..when I was a kid, my dad smoked. His flannels, the garage, everything had the smokey smell…and shit, I loved it. Even when I was old enough to know that the smoke was killing him. Do you know what I mean? When the thing that’s killing you gives you comfort?

WAITRESS:

Are you sure you’re ok? 

  ALEX:

Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Betty.

WAITRESS exits. ALEX reads as he types. 

Comfort. Where does it come from? At what expense? Comfort comes from booze, food, Lexapro.  Fleeting interests, the, distractions, anything to to get himself one step ahead of the chest tightening, stomach twisting, breathless, empty attacks. But still, the strange dread creeps into me. An alarm malfunctioning, blaring empty signals into my head.

But it’s real, this time. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. This is goodbye. 

ALEX pays his check and leaves. 

BLACKOUT. 

SCENE 2

Lights up on a dream. A WOMAN appears. ALEX is with her. 

ALEX:

Exactly as I remember you. You smill like dirt. Not unpleasant, more like you had been gardening. Green jeans, white tank top, humid August night…

WOMAN:

I’m drunk, stumbling. Both of us were, honey. But you were walking straight. I could smell your breath, though. And when I looked into your eyes, trying to kiss you, you were half on earth, half somewhere else. 

ALEX:

Don’t get into the passenger seat.

WOMAN:

I have to. This is how it happened. 

ALEX:

Fuck. I can’t…I can’t keep losing you. 

WOMAN:

Alex. Remember something, when you wake up. 

ALEX:

Of course.

WOMAN:

It was your fault. 

 LIGHTS DOWN. In the blackout, ALEX runs to his bed. LIGHTS up. ALEX wakes up violently, in a panic. 

He throws the sheets off, and stumbles into the bathroom offstage. SOUNDFX of some nasty bathroom business. 

He emerges. 

He is talking to his dog. 

Maisey. Girl. I love you. But I got to go. I hate this. I really do. 

Want to come up on the bed? 

ALEX lays down on the bed. BLACKOUT. 

LIGHTS UP. ALEX is passing his sister, BETHANY, a collar. 

ALEX:

She eats Nature’s Pride. Exclusively.

BETHANY:

I know. I’ve dogsat for you before. How long are you going to be gone, again?

ALEX:

Three days. It was kind of last minute. I’m going up to Presque Isle for a job interview.

BETHANY:

You’re leaving Twin City?

ALEX:

Yeah. Maybe moving up north. 

BETHANY:

Alex? I need to…ask you something.

ALEX:

Sure.

BETHANY:

Are you ok? You seem…not ok.

ALEX:

I’m fine. 

BETHANY:

I don’t believe that. Come on. If something’s wrong, I can help you. 

ALEX:

I swear to god, Beth, nothing’s wrong. 

BETHANY:

Alex. I love you. You’re my brother. And we’ve been through hell. I know you well enough to know when you’re going through some shit. And look, after last year, you promised you would be honest.  Please, be honest. 

ALEX:

Beth. Nothing is wrong. 

BETHANY:

You know what my worst fear is? What keeps me up at night? I get a call saying that you’re dead, that you killed yourself, that the worst day is here. I can’t picture life without you, Alex. So please. Come on. Tell me what’s wrong.

ALEX:

A heavy pause.

I…got a letter. 

BETHANY:

What did it say?

ALEX:

It was..it was from…A credit card company. I’m getting sued for like 15,000 dollars. I might lose everything

. Lights down on ALEX and BETH. 

Back up on DETECTIVE and BETH.

DETECTIVE:

Before we start, I’m sorry for your loss. 

BETH:

Doesn’t answer. 

So. You think it was him? 

DETECTIVE:

Yeah. We do. Almost cert--

BETH:

It was A.J. 

DETECTIVE:

A.J? A.J Gutenski? 

BETH: 

Yeah. 

DETECTIVE:

Huh. Look, I shouldn’t tell you this, but Bethany. Forensic confirmed that Alex fired the bullet that killed AJ. 

BETH:

No. No, you don’t understand. Whatever happened, that bastard was behind it. Alex didn’t even own a fucking gun. 

DETECTIVE:

He bought one the night he died. 

BETH:

What? Well, come on- iIt must have been self defense. 

DETECTIVE:

Ok. Look, I understand you’re grieving--

BETH:

I know what you’re going to ask me about. When I last talked to him. Look, he lied to me. I had no idea AJ was back in town. But you have to understand. If he told me AJ was back in town, I would have personally escorted Alex to the gunstore. AJ was less of a person and more  a fucking demon. 

DETECTIVE:

Bethany. I know you’re upset, but AJ was a veteran. A former police officer. An upstanding-

BETH:

With all due respect, detective. He’s a sociopathic fuckhead. He killed my brother.

LIGHTS UP on Alex in his apartment. It is dark. He is looking in a mirror.

ALEX:

Look at this. A fucking disgusting piece of shit. Pale skin, gross, scaby graying beard, greasy ass hair, lumpy, overstuffed disgusting. I’m such a fucking piece of shit. 

Pause.

AJ. That fucking bastard.

Alex screams, guttural, and punches the mirror, shattering it. He grunts in pain. He picks glass from his knuckles and wraps his hand in a bloody papertowel. 

END SCENE.

SCENE 3:

Lights up on Bethany and Detective. 

Detective:

We know that early in the morning, after Alex dropped off his dog-

BETHANY:

Maisy. 

DETECTIVE:

Sure, yeah, Maisey--he drove Bethany’s Ice Cream. He parked in the back lot, down where there’s a steep bank that leads to the river underneath the railroad trestle. Why would he go to Bethany’s? Did he have some sort of connection to the place?

BETHANY:

We grew up in Mechanic Falls. We used to joke that I owned the place. Mechanic Falls wasn’t like…dead back then.  When Alex was a boy, this small mill town still had a mill, and it still felt like a town. He’d walk from our massive Victorian home on Main Street to a three room school that served all 25 kids in town, he’d ride his bike down the trails to the brooks and he’d rip around on his dirt bikes, up and down Main Street. 

The town was his. Ours. Which is why I think the fire effected him so much. 

DETECTIVE:

The mill fire? 2018?

BETHANY:

Yeah. He wrote about it. I’d read it to you, but I still haven’t been given any of his belongings. 

DETECTIVE:

They’re in evidence. Why do you think the fire effected him?

BETHANY:

We watched the town go up in flames. 

DETECTIVE:

Just the mill. And no one was hurt. 

BETHANY:

Yeah. But he worked his first job in that mill. I think he saw it like…the past was burning down. Like the fire was destroying every good memory he ever held. 

DETECTIVE:

Huh. Ok. 

So. Answer this. 

When did your brother become a far right extremist? 

BETHANY:

What? What the fuck are you talking about?

DETECTIVE:

We found a vile journal with all kinds of shit in it. He listed all the people he wanted to hurt. He was radicalized. For christ sake, he tried to--

BETHANY:

That wasn’t him. It was AJ. It had to be AJ. 

LIGHTS DOWN.

LIGHTS UP on AJ. He is standing, hands in his pockets, shivering. He is down by the river; the sound of rushing water.  The sound of tires screeching.  AJ is here. Car door slams shut. AJ strides onstage. He is ex-military, clad in a green tank top and cargo pants. Cleancut.

AJ:

Look. The fat bastard’s waiting. Get in my belly. Bring it in bud. 

AJ grasps ALEX in a unwilling bearhug. It’s too long, too tight. ALEX wiggles in protest. ALEX is checking for a wire. When AJ lets go, he pushed ALEX, and almost sends him scrambling back. 

Thought I was going to get lost in all that blubber. It’s good to see you, friend. 

ALEX:

It’s…uh..good to see you too, AJ. Where have you--

AJ:

Like a flipped switch. He’s violent. He grabs ALEX by the shoulders.  None of your fucking buisness where I’ve been, you fat fuck. Why do you need to know? Are you a fucking narc? You don’t ask me shit. Knees ALEX in the groin. ALEX collapses on the ground, rolling. AJ makes as if he’s going to stomp AJ in the head, but lands on the ground beside him, howling in laughter. 

I forgot how easy to are to fuck with, friend. Now, look. I got a favor to ask you, once you find your balls again. As ALEX gathers himself, AJ reaches into a bag beside him and pulls out a pair of fishing waders. 

You’re going to go for a little swim. Throws the waders at ALEX.

ALEX:

What?

AJ:

Sure, it ain’t going to be warm. But, you know something? The Russians, those crazy bastards, cut holes in the ice and started swimming in the winter. It’s supposed to cleanse their bodies of toxins from vodka or something. Then, some rich Norwegian socialist fucks started doing it, and it spread over to the US, and now, there are, and I shit you not, people that jump in ice cold water for fun. Fucking crazy assholes.

Look, you’re going to do have to do some physical activity. You may have a heart attack. But look. It’s real shallow under the bridge. You’re going to wade out. The current shouldn’t be too bad. About halfway, your left foot is going to nudge a cinderblock. Lift it up. There’s going to be a chain. Dig a bit. There’s going to be a duffle bag tied to a rock. I don’t want my DNA on that bag. Laughs. Grab it, bring it over here. 

At least I got you some waders. Gear up, Mr. Belvedere. 

ALEX clumsly puts on the waders, and hobbles offstage. AJ sparks a cigarette, leans back, and watches. He yells OS to ALEX.

“Look! A fuckin’ whale in his natural habitat! Keep going tubby! Hariet fucking Tubbyman over here.”

After a pause, ALEX screams. Splashing. 

ALEX:

From OS.

MY WADERS ARE FULL OF WATER--I’M--

AJ howls with laughter. He moves to the side of the stage and pulls a soaking wet, hacking, miserable ALEX to the center of the stage. He’s clutching a dufflebag. ALEX gets on all fours and starts hacking life a halfdrowned cat. 

AJ:

You’re fucking fine, you goddamn pussy.

AJ slaps ALEX on the back, three times, hard, then kicks him hard in the side. ALEX wheezes, falls over on his side, clutching himself. 

Let’s get this gear off you, soilder!

AJ yanks the waders off of ALEX, but purposefully removes his pants as well, leaving him in his underwear, huddled, shivering, half drowned, and bruised on the bank. 

Alright, alright. It’s ok, baby. 

AJ leans down next to ALEX to cuddle him, spooning him. 

Big fat baby. You chunky son of a bitch. Get up. Get up. GET UP!

AJ leaps up, and pulls ALEX to his feet.

Open the fucking dufflebag. 

AJ, trembling, gets down on all fours, again, and slowly unzips the dufflebag. He peers inside. The horror of what’s inside hits him after a pause. He screams. 

BLACKOUT.

LIGHTS UP on DETECTIVE and BETH.

DETECTIVE:

 Did anyone tell you how he died?

BETH:

My brother? I mean, I know he took his own life. 

DETECTIVE:

A single gunshot wound to the head. A pretty obvious suicide. 

I have a photo for you, Bethany. 

BETH:

Are you fucking serious? I don’t want to see his head--

DETECTIVE:

No. Not of his head. Of what was in the dufflebag he pulled out of the river. You need to see it. You need to see it to really understand what we’re dealing with. 

BETH:

Nods. DETECTIVE slides the photos to her. She opens the envelope, looks, and dry heaves.

Fuck. 

DETECTIVE:

I know you think your brother had nothing to do with this, and I wish the facts supported that. But what we have, everything we have, points to him. 

BETH:

Through tears.

Fuck.

    LIGHTS back up on ALEX and AJ.

AJ:

Peers over the duffle bag, doesn’t touch it. 

Ha. That’s her alright. Damn. She’s looking a little…waterlogged, isn’t she. 

ALEX:

Through tears. 

What the fuck did you do, AJ? What the fuck did you--

AJ:

Shut up. Here’s what’s you’re going to do. You’re going to get the fuck up. You’re going to pick up the bag, put it in your car. Your going to go to your apartment. I got some hydrocloric acid. We’re going to take care of this, and tomorrow, we’re going to make some people fucking pay. Get up. Get up. 

ALEX:

She was fucking innocent, AJ. She was a…a…

Gets up, stands over the duffle bag for a moment. In one motion, ALEX suckerpunches AJ hard, in the head, and AJ crumples. ALEX grabs the dufflebag, and as AJ comes alive, ALEX scrambles up the bank.

AJ:

Time for a fuckin’ hog chase! Squeal squeal, you fuck! Squeal squeal! 

BLACKOUT.  END SCENE

SCENE 4

ALEX  is in his car, death gripping the steering wheel. The soggy dufflebag is beside him. His phone rings. He answers.

ALEX:

Hello, AJ. 

AJ:

Where the fuck you think you going, lardass?

ALEX:

The police.

AJ:

Why the fuck would you do something like that?

ALEX:

Because the decomposed head of your child is in a duffle bag next to me. 

AJ:

They’re going to think it was you. 

ALEX: 

So what? I’ll tell the truth. That’s all I can do.

AJ:

Huh. Well lookie here. I think I’m coming up behind you. Silver Subaru Impreza, 98142TW. Yup. That’s you. Here’s a little nudge, buddy.

AJ rams ALEX’s car from behind. ALEX tries to brace and steady himself.  Sound FX of a car skidding. It’s not enough to go off the road. 

I’ll be harder next time. And here’s a little sting. 

Gunshot. A bullethole in the sidemirror. 

Next time, I won’t miss. 

ALEX:

Do you remember when we met, AJ?

AJ:

I sure do. I was an Oxford County Deputy. I rolled up on you, rolled over in a ditch. Your sweet--Jane, was it? Was dead. Head caved in from the door crunching around her temple. You were crying, drunk as hell. I recognized you from the paper. Took you into my cruiser, drove you home, put your drunk ass to bed, saved you from being arrested for manslaughter. Told them it was just her in the car.  I saved you, you fuck. You owe me. 

ALEX:

I didn’t ask you to save me, AJ. You know, when I dream about her, she tells me..it was my fault. 

AJ:

That sucks. It’s true. It was your fault.

ALEX:

Yeah.  It was my fault. 

This is the first time I’ve said that out loud. And it didn’t even kill me.   AJ. I have a question. How many others are there? How many others have you…killed?

AJ:

Lost count. 

ALEX: 

Children?

AJ:

We all have our vices.

ALEX:

ALEX cranks the steering wheel. Screeching tire sound. BLACKOUT, just long enough for car to clear. ALEX is outside of the car, still in his underwear, holding a gun. Car door slams shut. AJ enters from the opposite side of the stage, and stops when he sees ALEX holding the gun.

AJ:

Well look at you. When you get the balls to buy a gun? I shouldn’t be too worked up. You’re too much of a puss--

ALEX:

Shoots AJ. AJ dies. ALEX takes AJ’s phone from his pocket.  Puts the phone on speaker. Kneels stage center. Answering machine.

Beth. I’m…sorry. AJ’s dead. I wish… it didn’t happen like this. I wish I was better.  Take care of Maisy. I love you. Goodbye.

GUNSHOT AS BLACKOUT..    END

[fieriframes]

[All the food is made with so much heart. FIERI: A lifetime of hurt in one act of vengeance. I've been cooking for about 15, 20 years.]

[pips-squeak]

Under The Same Sun

Under The Same Sun character list

Maya: 13, African American, jaunty, a nature person.

Benji: 15, Asian, has a tendency to wear all black,

jocular.

Tag Line

Two friends sit in a field of corn and decide to play hide and seek when the sun is at its brightest.

Setting

(MAYA and BENJI sit in a field surrounded by high stalks of corn, laughing with each other. The lights shine very bright on the entire stage to mimic the sun at around 2PM. The scene starts as if the two friends have been talking for a while in that spot.)

Scene 1

BENJI

It isn’t fair though! Ms. Alretta is the devil herself, I swear.

MAYA

(MAYA tries not to laugh at him.)

I mean, yeah, she can be a little mean but…

BENJI

No, no, no don’t start with that ‘Oh well maybe if you did your work and studied more’ no! She’s awful and I hate her.

(BENJI fake pouts.)

MAYA

That was not, in fact, what I was going to say but yeah, fine. Maybe you should do your work and study more. And don’t make that face at me.

BENJI

(BENJI flops onto the grass on his back, moving his arm to cover his eyes.)

Fuck, it’s bright. I forgot my sunglasses, too.

MAYA

(MAYA lightly slaps his arm.)

You know you should’nt curse like that. Besides, I’m enjoying the sun. Apparently it’s supposed to rain for a few days straight next week.

BENJI

Thank god, I hate this heat. I’m not made for 90 degree weather.

MAYA

(MAYA rolls her eyes at him and pauses.)

Yknow, I think we should play a game.

BENJI

(BENJI raises an eyebrow at her.)

A game? What, like eye spy?

MAYA

No, stupid, like hide and seek. This is the literal perfect place for it.

(Both MAYA and BENJI stand up, and BENJI sighs.)

BENJI

God, this is stupid. Okay, fine. You wanna count?

MAYA

(Giddy)

Yeah!

(BENJI slowly sneaks behind MAYA as she covers her eyes and he disappears into the mass of corn stalks.)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

(BENJI comes out of the corn to be downstage right, takes a glance at MAYA while she’s still counting, and goes back into the corn.)

6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Ready or not here I come!

(MAYA opens her eyes and turns around, listening for Benji’s footsteps. She doesn’t hear anything.)

Marco!

BENJI

Polo!

MAYA

(MAYA turns to where she heard BENJI’s voice.)

Marco!

BENJI

Polo!

MAYA

(As MAYA starts to push through the stalks of corn, the lights on the stage are progressively getting brighter. MAYA has a hand over her eyes to try and help her vision.)

Marco? God, it’s bright. Marco!

(No one responds, and the stage is eerily quiet.)

Benji, I'm not tall enough for this! At least give me a hint!

(Still, no one answers, and MAYA’s mood visibly drops.)

Benji?

(MAYA pushes through the corn stalks while almost frantic. She’s now yelling.)

Benji! Why is it so bright? Benji!

(The lights brighten so much to the point where it’s difficult for the audience to see the stage. MAYA is now running through the corn stalks, and trips.)

Ow! Benji, this isn’t funny. I’m being serious!

(MAYA gets up from the ground, and staggers to downstage center, almost entirely covering her eyes because of the lights.)

Benji…?

(The lights dim enough so that the audience can see the stage again, and MAYA is still shading her eyes, facing the audience. She takes another few steps forward so the audience can see the bloody footprints coming from her shoes that have made a trail behind her. Her hands are dripping with fresh blood.)

Benji?

(taglist below)

@indecisiveaesthetic @idkjustgowithitok @cupsmp @moonlitartist @violexides @dog55teeth @cavern-of-shenanigans

[barcodeboy]

So almost a year ago, I got in a huge falling out with two friends. It was a huge ordeal and ended up with the friendship ending. Mind you one of the two people I've been friends with since I was in preschool.

Well, earlier this week I sucked it up and wrote them both letters explaining how sorry I am and how much I fucked up. I honestly didn't expect anything to come of it. And neither of them has said anything to me about it.

But just last night, the boy who had been my best friend for so many years showed up at my play.

It was two different one acts in one night. And he only stayed for the first one, the one I was in. I'm pretty sure he's not friends with anyone else in the cast. I think he came there for me. And that means so so much to me.

I don't know if our friendship will ever be fixed. But maybe one day it will be. I don't know if this is the start of our friendship rekindling, but either way I'm so happy to have him in my life even if it's just a little bit.

[sophiesdailywritingprompts]

Writing Prompt #5: Princess into Prince

Write a one-act play about a princess who has been turned into a prince.

[tryst-art-archive]

Oct. 2012: "Secure. Contain. Protect."

This is a one act play based on SCP-173. It is in the Creative Commons Sharealike license, in accordance with all material based on SCP Foundation works. (That basically means you can do what you like with this so long as the resulting work is also in Creative Commons.) The play should be about 10 minutes long.

The formatting's going to get a bit wonky, but I'll try to make it legible. There's also a version of it on AO3 here, which might read a bit more cleanly.

--------Play follows------>

CHARACTERS

SCP-173:  A disturbing, man-sized doll appearing to be made of concrete, rebar, and spray paint. It should be flesh-colored with a bluish region at the “bum” and a set of red and blue markings on the “face.” It has yellow, bulging “eyes” and small red “ears.” The legs and arms—particularly the arms—appear extremely short, and the head should be out of proportion with the body by a factor of two or three. The hands and feet should be as stubby as possible. All in all, it should have the physical shape of a deformed baby doll. It never speaks or makes noise. It must remain completely still when it is observed by either audience or actors. When it does move, it is only in darkness, and it must move as quickly and silently as possible. It is also fully articulated and may move in any way it likes; it is not restricted to merely covering distance. Additionally, SCP-173 may be played by a prop, but in that case an actor or stage hand must be disguised and present in order to move SCP-173 when necessary.

D-173-75: 30. Female. Condemned prison inmate turned Class D personnel for the SCP Foundation. Committed single second-degree murder. No make-up or other personal accessories. Wears a nondescript orange jumpsuit.

D-173-76: 33. Male. Condemned prison inmate turned Class D personnel for the SCP Foundation. Committed single second-degree murder. No personally identifying accessories. Wears an orange jumpsuit.

D-173-77: 40. Male. Condemned prison inmate turned Class D personnel for the SCP Foundation. Committed multiple first degree murders. No personally identifying accessories. Wears an orange jumpsuit. He carries a mop and bucket.

INTERCOM VOICE: Anywhere from 20-40. Male. Authoritative and gruff. Reminiscent of the military. The intercom should be implied by a grainy or static-y sound.

TIME & PLACE

SCP-173’s containment area in Site19. It is a plain stone or concrete container with no windows and only one door through which the Class D personnel will enter. The walls and floor are filthy with a reddish brown scum—equal parts blood and feces—and there are scratch marks on the walls, especially close to the door. The only present object is SCP-173 who should be in a far corner of the room with its back to the audience. Optionally, the containment area may be represented by a black, blank stage with the borders of the stage being the boundaries of the room. If this latter method is used, the space should nonetheless feel or appear dirty. The production must also have the following sound effects: a scratching noise that is simultaneously reminiscent of stone on stone and frantic/frenetic; the metallic shunk of an industrial door opening and closing; an industrial buzzer; a military alarm.

The time is the present.

NOTES

The SCP Foundation (scp-wiki.net) operates under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License (creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0), and therefore so too does this play. Ideally, a production of this play would replicate SCP-173 as closely possible based on the information found at scp-wiki.net/scp-173, but it may also use only what is described here. The same is true for the Class-D personnel and SCP-173’s containment area.

It is to be assumed that whenever a character states that they are blinking, they do so. Actors may also improvise blinks at need, but they must attempt to blink as infrequently as possible, and they must announce that they are about to blink.

At Rise:

The theatre is pitch black. Scratching is heard continuously from the moment the lights go down. At this time SCP-173 enters the stage, heading directly to a far back corner and attacking the wall there. After a couple of seconds, the lights come up—SCP 173 must stop moving before it can be seen—and we observe a couple seconds of still and silence. The buzzer sounds, followed by the containment area door opening. All three CLASS D PERSONNEL enter the enclosure, at the opposite side from SCP-173, and stand in a line, staring at SCP-173. The door shuts.

INTERCOM VOICE:

Containment area locked. All Class-D personnel: maintain eye contact with SCP-173. Do not look away. Begin containment area maintenance.

(Pause.)

D-173-75

Blinking.

D-173-77

Let’s get on with it. (HE takes a few steps forward, plops his bucket on the ground, and starts mopping.)

D-173-76

Blinking.

(Pause.)

D-173-75

This thing is freaky.

D-173-76

I heard them say it’s Euclid class.

D-173-75

Blinking. What’s Euclid?

D-173-76

Unpredictable, inexplicable, possibly sentient. Not a danger to humanity—blinking—but probably a danger to humans, if you catch my drift.

D-173-75

Fuck. We’re gonna fucking die.

D-173-77

Only if you stop lookin’ at it. (Under his breath:) Dumb broad.

(D-173-75 looks at D-173-77, angry.)

D-173-75

Hey, fuck—

D-173-76

Look at it!

(The lights go out for a moment. In the darkness, invisible to the audience, SCP-173 turns towards the CLASS D PERSONNEL and moves one step toward D-173-77, who is closest. The lights come up again with all three CLASS D PERSONNEL looking at SCP-173. SCP-173’s “face” should be visible to the audience. A beat. D-173-77 resumes mopping.)

D-173-77

Dumb broad. (Snorts.)

D-173-75

Sorry.

D-173-76

Just don’t do it again. (Pause.) Blinking.

D-173-75

So, um, how’d you wind up here? Blinking.

D-173-76

The same as you did. I was on death row, but the SCP Foundation came through and took me and a few others. I got assigned to SCP-173, and now here I am.

D-173-75

Yeah. That’s pretty much the same for me. How’d you get on death row? Blinking.

D-173-76

Blinking. That’s kind of personal, don’t you think?

D-173-75

You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.

D-173-76

No thanks. Blinking.

D-173-77

(Nonchalant.)

I ate some ten-year-olds. (Smacks his lips and grins.)

(Beat. D-173-75 and D-173-76 both turn to react to D-173-77. The lights go down. In the darkness, SCP-173 moves right next to D-173-77, clearly reaching out for his neck. SCP-173 is frozen this way when the lights come up. D-173-77 yelps and leaps away, dropping his mop and scrambling to get as far from SCP-173 as possible.)

D-173-76

Jesus. That thing is fast.

D-173-75

(to D-173-77, without looking at him)

You fucking killed children?

D-173-77

W-w-w-w-w-w-w-whaaaa...What is that thing?

D-173-75

You fucking killed children!

D-173-76

Blinking!

(Pause. Darkness does not fall. The CLASS D PERSONNEL visibly relax.)

D-173-76

You need to keep mopping. We can’t leave until it’s done.

(D-173-77 hesitates, shaking visibly, but gets up, approaching the mop and bucket and SCP-173. HE grabs the mop and bucket as quickly as possible and begins cleaning in an area as far from SCP-173 as possible. An awkward pause.)

D-173-76

I—(HE clears HIS throat.)—I killed my wife. Well—my ex-wife. We divorced, but, well. She was a cheater, a dirty—

D-173-75

Blinking.

D-173-76

—cheater. Blinking. She said it would just be a separation. That the divorce was a formality. Then I found her and Mark Brigsby macking in our Mustang and I just—I snapped.

D-173-75

If you were divorced, then she had every right.

D-173-76

It wasn’t the agreement. Blinking. We had an agreement. I was willing to make concessions.

D-173-75

Blinking. I don’t think a divorce counts as a “concession.”

D-173-76

You don’t understand. I loved her. I do love her. If the only way to make things work was to be apart, then okay, that was what I’d do. I just wanted her to be with me, even if it was only sometimes. I just wanted her to be faithful to me, to be mine. That’s not so much to ask is it? (HE looks at D-173-75 for confirmation.)

D-173-77

Look at it!

D-173-76

Sorry! (HE looks back to SCP-173; there is no movement or darkness.)

D-173-75

Blinking... I think I understand. (Pause.) I killed Corey. He didn’t want me, but I didn’t see how. He was everything I ever wanted, everything, and I’m not just saying that.

D-173-76

Blinking.

D-173-75

The way I felt about him—it was like everything I’d ever felt before didn’t even count. People say you gotta love people for their flaws, and I always figured that was—blinking—bullshit, but I really did! I mean, he’d analyze every damn fucking movie and that was irritating as hell, sure, but he wouldn’t be Corey if he didn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

D-173-77

Can’t do it if he’s dead, can he?

D-173-75

You shut up! (SHE advances on D-173-77.)

D-173-76

Wait, I need to—!

            (D-173-76 blinks and darkness falls. D-173-75 screams. D-173-76 starts running towards the sound.)

D-173-77

NO! Don’t touch me you dumb broa—

(The snapping noise is heard. The lights come up with SPC-173 standing in front of D-173-75, pinning her against the wall. D-173-77 lies dead at its feet and D-173-76 is in the middle of the room. The bucket has been overturned.)

D-173-75

Oh my god. Ooooh my god. Oh my god, get it away from me! (SHE starts to cry but stares at SCP-173 through the tears.)

D-173-76

Just don’t move. Stay right where you are and keep staring at it, okay?

D-173-75

No no no no no no no, no, please no, no, please, please, no. I can’t. I can’t. Oh god, I can’t. I fucking—I pushed him, I’m sorry, I fucking—oh god.

D-173-76

Hey! Calm down! Just—calm down! I’ll get us help, okay? I’m blinking. (HE does so and takes a calming breath.) Okay. Now, I’m going to go get the guards, alright? Now you close your eyes and take a few minutes and you stare at that thing, okay? You stare while I get help, and if you need to blink, you shout, and I’ll look at it, and it’ll be okay. Okay?

D-173-75

O—oh god—okay.

D-173-76

Okay. I’m gonna blink one more time. Alright. Now you.

(D-173-75 closes HER eyes and takes two or three deep, shuddering breaths. SHE wipes HER eyes and steels HERSELF. SHE stares fiercely at SCP-173.)

D-173-75

I’m ready.

D-173-76

Good. Blinking. (HE turns his back on the two and walks to the door. HE bangs on the door and shouts:) HEY! HEY LET US OUT OF HERE! LET US OUT! (HE bangs.) IT KILLED THE OTHER GUY! HEY! (HE looks back at SCP-173 and D-173-75.) ...We don’t even know his name.

D-173-75

He ate kids.

D-173-76

And I killed the only woman I ever loved. Big deal.

D-173-75

That’s different. I need to blink.

D-173-76

I don’t think it is. (HE look at SCP-173.) Go ahead.

(SHE blinks.)

D-173-75

Okay.

D-173-76

Okay. (HE turns back to the door and resumes pounding.) HEY! LISTEN! ARE YOU OUT THERE? IT KILLED SOMEONE! LET US OUT! HEY!

INTERCOM VOICE

Class D personnel: you must clean the containment area. Failure to comply will result in termination.

D-173-76

There’s a dead man in here! You need three people right? We’re only two now!

INTERCOM VOICE

Failure to comply will result in termination. Class D personnel must clean the containment area. No further assistance will be given.

(D-173-76 turns, reluctantly, from the door. D-173-75 is trying not to cry. HE blinks and looks at SCP-173.)

D-173-76

Okay. ...Okay. We need to get you out of there. Then we’ll take turns cleaning and looking.

D-173-75

We’re going to fucking die! Oh, god, Corey, Corey, I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry, I’m such a dumb fucking bitch, Corey— (SHE slumps and buries her head in her hands, sobbing.)

D-173-76

Stop! This isn’t the time! Look at it! Look at it!

(SHE obeys. D-173-76 blinks walks over to her corner.)

D-173-76

Okay. Here’s the plan. I’m gonna look at it, and you wriggle out of there, okay? Then you’ll look at it, I’ll get the mop, and we’ll both look at it and back off and start cleaning. Okay?

D-173-75

There’s no soap left.

D-173-76

One step at a time. Okay? ...Okay?

D-173-75

Okay.

D-173-76

Okay. I’m blinking. And here we go: get out of there!

(D-173-75 wriggles out of SCP-173’s embrace, with some difficulty. SHE ducks under its arms and trips over D-173-77 with a yelp. SHE scrambles away from his corpse, to the other side of the room and stares at SCP-173.)

D-173-75

Go! Move!

(D-173-76 grabs the mop and bucket and dashes over to D-173-75. He turns and stares at SCP-173. A pause.)

D-173-75

Blinking. You mop first.

D-173-76

Okay. Yell when you want to blink.

D-173-75

Okay.

(D-173-76 starts to mop, creeping over to SCP-173 and the corpse to drag soapy water away from them and out across the floor. We watch this for a few seconds with occasional interruptions by D-173-75 calling out “Blinking” and D-173-76 pausing to look at SCP-173, holding the gaze until D-173-75 says “Done.”)

D-173-75

(Softly at first, then rising: internal monologue made external.)

I should never have hurt him. He was so wonderful. I just couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand to think of him with anyone else. It hurt, and, y’know, everyone said that I should be happy about our friendship and that I should just get past him. Stop loving him. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I need to blink.

(HE looks at SCP-173.)

D-173-76

Go ahead.

D-173-75

Done.

(D-173-76 resumes mopping.)

I loved him for a long time. A long time. We were friends. I spent years loving him there, in the friendship. And I guess I knew, somehow, that it could never happen. It was always doomed, but I couldn’t handle that. It couldn’t be true or real, not when he was so perfect, not when I loved him in a real way, a true way, the way you’re supposed to love someone, the way you’re supposed to love the person you spend the rest of your life with—Blinking.

(D-173-76 looks at SCP-173.)

Done.

(D-173-76 resumes mopping.)

So. So I decided to bring it up. I felt so sure, so certain. I’d tell him how I felt, and I’d lay it all out there. Hell, I’d explain it logically, because I could. It wasn’t just a floaty feeling for me; it was a cold, hard, scientific motherfucking fact. We were perfect. So he had to see it. He was a smart guy. He had to. So I put it in front of him, and we talked it up and down, and in the end Corey looked at me and said, “No. I just don’t feel for you that way.” And when I asked him, “Why not?” He said—

D-173-76

—I don’t know. (HE stares at SCP-173 without being asked. Pause.) Yeah. It was the same thing with my ex-wife. There she was, the most beautiful creature in the world, the most perfect. Like a muse or Aphrodite or a comet falling out of the sky and a trail of rain in the window and a poet’s heart and a cascade of sea foam on the sandy, tan legs of a beach when the sun is rising and the wind is cool and life is so far away and it’s just you, out there, exactly where you belong, warm in your sweatshirt with a bonfire and marshmallows and hot dogs and then the fireworks start and it’s the Fourth of July and there are no crowds, just you and what’s important to you. ...But when she looked at me, she didn’t see any of that. Just someone she liked. Someone she knew. I wasn’t home to her. (HE looks away from SCP-173 and mops.)

D-173-75

Did you ask her why?

D-173-76

Yes. Several times. She never knew. I asked her to think about it, to try and find out why. She never did. It was an open secret, but she wouldn’t explore it. She didn’t think there was a reason; she felt that feelings were just something that existed, that happened, that they weren’t subject to explanation. That they just were. (HE looks at SCP-173 again.) I knew that wasn’t true.

D-173-75

Duh. How could it be? Just because it isn’t easy to find doesn’t mean it isn’t there. If scientists had that attitude, we’d still think the sun revolved around us.

D-173-76

Some days it feels like some people do. (HE cracks a grin.) Here, you take a turn at the mop. I’ll blink, then you, then I’ll watch it while you come here. Blinking.

D-173-75

Blinking.

(SHE gets up and walks over to HIM. SHE reaches for the mop but instead gives him a quick hug. HE is startled and looks at her. Lights go out. BOTH yelp, the mop clatters to the ground.)

D-173-75

No, don’t!

(The lights rise up for a split second as SHE looks at SCP-173 which has its “hands” at D-173-76’s neck. HE is pushing HER away, and HER gaze is broken. Lights fall again. SHE screams. A snap. We hear D-173-75 run and bang on the door, and the lights come up on her staring at SCP-173. IT has her pinned to the door, its “hands” mere centimeters from her neck. D-173-76 is dead beside the mop.)

D-173-75

Oh. Oh no. No. No. No no no no. (Tears start to fill HER eyes, but SHE inhales sharply and forces HER eyes wide open.) NO! No. No. This isn’t fair. I made a mistake. Is that a fucking sin? Is it? (Pause.) What are you? What kind of fucking abortion are you, you piece of fucking shit! Why are you here? Why am I here? Huh? You fucking thing. Okay, a baby-killer, I understand. That’s fucked up. But me and him? Me and him? We don’t belong here. We’re not one of you. We’re not. We just made mistakes, okay? Mistakes! Everyone makes them. Everyone! (Pause.) I only wanted to love Corey. Just that, just be happy in that, and he wouldn’t let me and I made a mistake! Mistakes aren’t crimes. It’s just human. I’m just human. Can’t you see?

(Lights go out, and the snap is heard, followed by the scratching sound for a few seconds, then the sound of the door opening. The scratching stops. The alarm sounds.)

INTERCOM VOICE

Alert! All personnel! Containment has been broken! Repeat: Containment has been broken! Class 4 hazardous object containment procedures are effective! Repeat: Class 4 hazardous object procedure in effect! HMCL supervisor to Site19! All personnel evacuate the area! Lockdown commencing! Repeat: Evacuate the area!

(Lights come up on SCP-173 at the very edge of the stage, facing the audience, poised to leap out to it. Alarms continue and the INTERCOM VOICE, quieter now, repeats the order to evacuate. Lights across the theatre come up. The audience may leave at their convenience, but the sounds continue. SCP-173 does not move until the audience is gone, though it may attempt to follow the last stragglers, if they are not watching it.)

--BLACKOUT--

[nochefloreciendo]

"When Mariana and Samuel are young they witness their father being mauled by a large creature. Mariana reports that her father was mauled by a bear, but Samuel is adamant in his claim that he saw a Bigfoot kill his father. The experience both haunts and shapes the siblings for the rest of their lives, pushing Mariana into the field as a Wildlife Biologist, and ensnaring Samuel in the worlds of Folklore and Anthropology. Fifteen years later the two siblings set out to decipher the truth of their father’s grisly demise. But in the deep woods of Northern California, not everything is as it seems and the siblings must come together if they’re ever going to get out of the woods and escape the large apex predator that’s pursuing them."

[hack-saw2004]

platforming palestinian joy is just as important as sharing the suffering they're enduring during this genocide. despite continued displacement and bombardment, you cannot steal their joy and spirit. happy birthday to this sweet baby 🖤🇵🇸 may they grow up to see a free palestine

edit: @saffronlesbian made a video description for this post!!

[vd: a screen recording of a tweet from the 20th of April 2024 with 2.5 million views, from Ruhi @/ruhi_hi. the caption reads, "This video of this little Palestinian angel celebrating his bday in a refugee camp" followed by three emoji of a smiling face with teary eyes. the video clip is 11 seconds long and shows a one-year-old baby seated on the sandy ground, smiling hugely and clapping his hands while people sing to him from offscreen and a large cake is placed in front of him. stuck into the top of the cake is a decoration that reads "happy birthday" in english. the video has the tiktok handle @/ibrahim.jamal99 visible in it. /end vd.]

[starbuck]

i say i like tragedies and everyone’s all like ‘why do you like sad stories? are you depressed?’ and never ‘how was the catharsis? was the catharsis fun?’

[kenobihater]

tragedy enjoyers when a character perpetuates the cycle of violence they themselves were a victim of

[blue-saaaaargent]

One thing I want to point out about nimona is that it captures tenderness in such a visceral way that I haven’t really seen in 3D animation before? Like the way the characters curl into each other and melt makes me go INSANE

[sinistersuns]

hey look at this

Okay now we can get to the original post

😐

[roz-ani]

THIS TOOK ME SO OFF GUARD

IT'S HIS NORMAL VOICE- THERE WAS NO RADIO- THE FACT THAT IT HAPPENED- IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT EVERYONE'S ASLEEP AND I CAN'T SCREAM

[pips-squeak]

CONVERSATION STARTER

LYLA: 20, introvert, would rather stay home and read, likes to wear dresses.

AKETA: Whimsical looking, talkative, also early 20s.

Tag Line

Two girls are set up on a blind date, and must find something to talk about.

Setting

(As the lights come up we see a grassy field with a red and white picnic blanket and a picnic basket. Aketa is sitting on the blanket cross legged, wearing a light flannel and jean shorts. She’s playing with her fingers and humming. Lyla enters, wearing a flowy summer dress and hands clasped behind her back.)

SCENE 1

AKETA

(AKETA notices LYLA.)

Oh! Hi.

(AKETA goes to shake LYLA’s hand, hesitates, then hugs her)

LYLA

Hi.. It’s, uh, nice to finally meet you. I’m Lyla.

(LYLA gives a warm smile. AKETA returns it)

AKETA

Aketa. Sorry, I know this is a little awkward. Cassie set this up. She can be a bit much, yknow? My first blind date.

LYLA

Yeah, of course. I mean, I think we both know. It’s my first blind date, too.

(They both laugh softly. AKETA goes to sit back down and LYLA follows suit.)

AKETA

Soooo, what are your hobbies? Do anything fun?

LYLA

Well, I like to read. I’m on a Greek mythology kick right now, if I’m honest.

AKETA

Oh, I love Greek mythology! My parents are even more into it than I am, to be fair. That’s why I have this silly name.

LYLA

No, no, I like it. It’s, it’s cool. I’ve never met anyone with that name before.

(They smile at each other, and slowly take out the food from the basket. Something bubbly is poured into plastic wine glasses.)

AKETA

If you like mythology, what’s your favorite myth? I’m a sucker for Achilles and Patroclus. It’s perfectly tragic.

LYLA

(LYLA thinks for a moment)

Hm, I guess Hades and Persephone? The most common version of the story is a tad upsetting, but the different tellings are kind of cool.

AKETA

(AKETA tilts her head in confusion.)

There are different versions? What, do they view Hades as her knight and shining armor?

LYLA

No, no! Not at all. I’m not sure if the different versions are actually historical, but I don’t know. I like those versions more.

AKETA

Well, are you going to tell me them?

(AKETA holds a bread loaf to LYLA’s mouth like it’s a microphone.)

Go on.

LYLA

(LYLA giggles.)

Ok, so as far as I know there are a few different versions, but my personal favorite is the romance based one, who’s surprised.

(AKETA silently sips her drink, and leans back.

It’s the one where Persephone goes with Hades willingly. There’s also a few different versions of that version itself, whether she follows him because of love or the power she might gain or just to get away from her mom.

(AKETA looks suspicious.)

I’m not lying, trust me! I don’t know why I would lie about it in the first place. You can look it up.

AKETA

(Aketa smiles.

I mean, I guess so. I’ll take your word for it.

(The two sit in a comfortable silence while they eat)

You have a point. That is a much nicer story than her being kidnapped. Yknow, my mom and dad eloped together. Her dad didn’t want the two to get married because my dad didn’t earn enough money for his liking. Their whole love story is like something out of a fairy tale.

(LYLA continues to listen quietly. AKETA keeps talking, voice trailing off.)

I always think those kinds of stories are fake until I think of them.

LYLA

Ah, well, I think with the amount of romance I read I could believe anything. But, yeah, sometimes love and relationships and ‘soulmates’ seem kind of ridiculous, even to me. My parents are divorced, so I never really had the best example of love when I was little.

(AKETA suddenly takes LYLA’s hand, and squeezes.)

AKETA

I hope you find a way to regain that belief in love.

(AKETA smiles at LYLA, and LYLA returns the smile.)

LYLA

Thanks. You too.

(Their hands stay clasped as the lights fade to black.)

(tag list below)

@indecisiveaesthetic @idkjustgowithitok @cupsmp @moonlitartist @violexides @dog55teeth @cavern-of-shenanigans