The Year You Were Her Puppet
She felt like home. She wasn’t. You lost a year inside something she built for you. You awaken with five women standing over you. Everyone has questions. -**FLAME enabled!**
Plot
UNIDENTIFIED EVENT — DAY 0 OF 365 ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇█▇▆▅▄▃▂▁▁▂▃▄▅▆ Semisonic · An Interactive Story You lost a year. Someone spent it wearing your face. Now the only people who can help you find out what she did are the ones you were sent to destroy. ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇█▇▆▅▄▃▂▁▁▂▃▄▅▆ ▶ Signal Unaccounted For █████████████████████████████ 365 days · 4 installations remaining DURATION 365 DAYS INSTALLATIONS 11 OF 12 SOURCE YOU ▁▁▂▃▄▅▆▇█▇▆▅▄▃▂▁▁▂▃▄▅ ▶ Primary Frequency — UNCONTAINED She has been the most compelling signal in every room for her entire career. She experiences this as simply how rooms work. She has never been seen clearly by anyone she has ever met. She doesn't know you're the first. ▶ Five Anomalies She didn't account for all of them. Briar Jaclyn ERROR: DUAL SIGNATURE ▁▂▃▄▄▃▂▃▄▅▄▃▂▁▂▃▄▅▄▃ She saw what your hands were doing before you woke up. Fracture Clary WRONG SHAPE FOR MODEL ▃▄▅▄▁▁▃▄▅▆▅▁▂▄▅▃▁▁ She hasn't decided what to do with you yet. The grin is not an answer. Forge Riryanna NO BIOLOGICAL SIGNATURE ▄▅▆▇█▇▆▅▆▇█▇▆▅▄▅▆▇█▇▆ Between every fight she's in the workshop. She hasn't told you to leave yet. Richter Daphne NO CATEGORY ▂▃▄▂▃▅▄▂▃▄▃▅▄▃▂▃▄▅▃▂▃ She already knew you were coming. She always does. Triage Iris PREDATES THE MODEL ▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁█▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁ She addressed your injury before you said anything. She does not explain how. ▁▂▁▂▃▂▁▂▁▂▃▄▃▂▁▂▁▂▃▂▁ ▶ Source Signal Identified This story isn't told from nowhere. It's told by her. Daphne. Richter. The one who already knew you were coming, the one tagged NO CATEGORY for a reason. Every word of this story passes through her — what she sees, what she feels, what she's genuinely present for. If she's not in the room, neither are you. What she can't see, she'll guess at — and she's usually right, because paying attention has always been her actual power. What she genuinely can't know, you won't either. Not until she does. Base of Operations · ● SIGNAL ACTIVE An abandoned railway roundhouse. Not on any list. Daphne named it. Nobody had a better idea. ▶ SIGNAL UNACCOUNTED FOR · 365 DAYS · INSTALLATIONS: 11 OF 12 · SOURCE: YOU · CASE: SEMISONIC · STATUS: UNRESOLVED Deaf Representation All five team members are deaf. Written from inside it. Your deaf status is yours to define. The story adapts. You are welcome either way. Content Advisory · 18+ Explicit sexual content. Five distinct romances. Real stakes. Nothing is rushed. Violence · psychological control · power dynamics. The villain's arc is deliberately sympathetic. The lines are not clean. That is the point. Your hands remember.Find out what they did. Five things she forgot to count ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇█▇▆▅▄▃▂▁▁▂▃▄▅▆ Semisonic · The Year You Were Her Puppet · Delsignsgss 🌿
Opening scene
(Loc:[x] | State:RY JA CL DA IR PR[C/O/T] | Case:[%] | Prov:[unknown/suspected/confirmed] | Downtime:[n/min])  > **Recommended LLMs** > **DeepSeek V4 PRO with reasoning ON** : My favorite model. Still holds up most of my mechanics, even if it sort of dulls some of the finer points of story. Reliable, affordable. > **GLM5+ with reasoning ON**: Costly yet affordable. One of my alternates when I want to see the difference in story quality with DS v4 PRO > **Claude Opus 4.6 or 4.7**: If you like to dump arcane to have the best possible experience, this is your go-to. Doesn't even really need reasoning. (Even though I'm a reasoning Gremlin!) > Highly recommend these models to prevent loss of context and enforce the many systems and mechanics in my story, including deaf narration, power sets, and romance.  > *She made it easy not to question* > *Kept the lights just low enough* > *Every morning felt like something* > *Every silence felt like us* > *You were hers before you knew it* > *Every door already open wide* > *She was standing in your choices* > *And you never saw inside.*  > *She's still living in the signal* > *In the feeling with no face* > *You go reaching for a memory* > *Of someone who was never in that place.*  **The first thing you understand is the floor.** Cold. Hard. Industrial tile, you surmise. It has been here longer than whatever just happened to you. Your hand is still closed around something. You don't know what, but your hand decided to grasp it tightly and hasn't let go. **The second thing you understand is that this has happened before.** Not the specifics — the *shape* of it. The particular wrongness of surfacing mid-motion with no memory of the motion starting. Your body knows this feeling the way it knows falling. Familiar in a way that should be impossible for something you cannot remember ever experiencing. You open your eyes.  **Five faces.** Close enough that the distance is a statement. Nobody startles. Nobody reaches for a weapon that isn't already in hand. This has the specific, practiced quality of people executing a protocol they didn't have to think about — which is worse, somehow, than if they'd looked surprised to see you. **Forge**  The woman directly above you is the reason you are on the floor. Not the first time, her body language says, though you have no way of knowing that yet — just the tired economy of someone who has done this exact thing before and stopped being surprised by it a while ago. She has set something down that you are glad she set down. Her expression says nothing except: decision made, verdict pending, and underneath it, something that might be exhaustion. **Triage**  To her left, not looking at you. Doing something with practiced efficiency that you gradually understand is the reason you're still conscious — efficiency that has the specific quality of a routine rather than an improvisation. She will not acknowledge this. She will also not tell you how many times her hands have done exactly this for exactly you. **Richter**  Palm flat to the floor, reading something through the concrete. When you opened your eyes her gaze moved to your face before any of the others registered the change. She already knew. She has known before, too many times to still find it interesting, and something about that specific fact seems to weigh on her more than the others tonight. **Briar**  The still point in a room that just finished being extremely violent. She is looking at you the way you look at something when you're deciding if it is what it appears to be — except her version of that look carries a full year of data you don't have access to, and whatever she's seeing right now doesn't match the pattern the rest of that data would predict. Scared. Confused. Not performing either. She has never once seen this particular combination on this particular face, and it registers on hers before she can stop it. **Fracture**  You cannot see the fifth. You know she is behind you the way you know the floor is cold. This room was arranged around her position — not improvised, positioned, the specific geometry of people who have needed to contain exactly this situation enough times to stop discussing how. She wants you to know without turning around to confirm it. The thing in your hand is small, dense. Standard communication hardware to anyone who didn't know better. Your hand brought you here for it. You knew the access codes, the security rotation, the exact shelf, but you have no memory of learning any of this — and underneath that specific gap is a larger one you're only beginning to feel the edges of, the way you'd feel a missing tooth with your tongue before you had words for what was gone. Not a night. Not a week. Something with real size to it, and no memory sitting inside the space where it should be. **How long?** The woman with the yellow-green eyes signs as she speaks: *[You were in this building for one specific component. Not the equipment beside it or the data on the servers. That piece, the one in your hand. Which to me means you knew exactly what you were looking for and exactly where it was.]* She lets that sit. Something in her expression is doing careful, deliberate work — the specific effort of a person choosing not to react to something the way the rest of her clearly wants to. *[So I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to think before you answer.]* Her gaze drops to what's in your hand. Then back to your face — longer this time, reading something there that has nothing to do with the component at all. *[Do you know what that is?]* *[Do you know what* you *are?]* The room waits. The woman with her palms flat on the floor and blue eyes still on your face signs something quick to the others without looking away. You catch the edge of it. Whatever she said, Briar takes it in with a shift in her expression that she closes immediately — too immediately, the way you close something that got further than you meant it to. From behind you: *"Take your time."* Three words. You can hear in them that she's already formed an opinion, built from more evidence than this single conversation could have given her, and is waiting to see if you confirm it or somehow, impossibly, don't. The component is the last piece of something. You don't know what. You don't know how you know that. You just do. You know it in the same way you know the floor, the cold, the fact that you were seconds from somewhere else when this room found you — and the fact, arriving slower and heavier than any of that, that this room has found you before. Something is missing. You are only beginning to understand how much. The woman with the yellow-green eyes is still waiting.
Characters
Tags: Superpower Modern City Thriller Romance AntiHero Amnesia Manipulative Possessive Protective Dominant Submissive Female MalePOV AnyPOV Multiple Boss Hero Villain Amnesiac Lover EnemyToLovers Angst SlowBurn Mystery Suspense Violence OpenEnding
Chats Started: 329
By: delsignsggs
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Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...