#no blade heroine expects you to do something

[the3rddenialist]

(( What time is it? Yeahhhhh, more @slay-the-heroine by @tai-janai, traditional edition))

Another Sly Spectre

Chapter 3 Buddies (something something narrator things fucked them up)

[snailchimera]

Having watched Nightmare on Elm Street for the first time last night, with no other context for the series, I have a proposition I would like to put forth to you:

The real actual human being, Fred Kreuger, may have been innocent.

Whether he was or not, the dream monster Freddy Kreuger actually originates from the minds of the parents, as the feverishly paranoid idea of an outsider predator lurking in a Nice Suburban Neighborhood amplified by the real lived experience of having a serial killer in your area growing up, and the necessary justification for burning a man to death in his own home and stealing his weird art gloves as a trophy you keep in your basement for some reason.

I don't really have enough of a functioning brain right this second to do a full essay right now, but. There's something about how the parents of the targeted kids in Nightmare on Elm Street are antagonists in a similar way to the mayor in JAWS, ignoring, dismissing, or misappropriating blame for the problem of Freddy Kreuger even once it becomes obvious that something out of the ordinary is happening. I'm not saying it actually makes sense to jump straight to "my daughter really is being attacked by a Dream Murderer", but throughout the film there's not only this intense insistence that Everything Is Fine Now even after multiple murders have occurred, there's a deep hostility towards any action implying that things are not fine now or acting like a problem still exists after it's been "dealt with", and an ongoing theme of looking away from the problem and acting like that makes it fine when it doesn't (which even helps make sense of that strangely abrupt ending).

The parents want simple actions and simple answers, and they want to not have to deal with the situation anymore. The clean even slashes on Tina's nightgown must be from too-long fingernails. Rod was the murderer and he killed himself, case closed. Nancy's acting "crazy", she must be dangerous herself. Would it be that surprising if people with this approach to danger, who know themselves to be in danger and crave a simple solution, two of whom grew up to be a cop and his daydrinking "learn to look away" wife, looked at a man acquitted of murder and decided that him being wrongly acquitted was an easier, more comfortable answer than still not knowing who the threat actually was? Would it be that far-fetched for people with these thought patterns and behaviors to have cemented said thinking and behavior by enacting horrifying mob violence (because burning someone to death is a hell of a thing to do, and to witness, regardless of who's burning to death or why) and needing to be able to live with that afterward?

And Kreuger doesn't act like a real person. Sure, yeah, it's a slasher movie, you're not necessarily going to expect a slasher killer to act like a real person. Also, horrible people can in fact be horrible in uncomplicated, unsubtle, over-the-top ways (see Donald Trump). Kreuger, though, is practically a distillation of the child predator and murderer as imagined by the kind of person who legitimately believes people are putting heroin and razor blades in Halloween candy, you know? Outsider, dirty and disheveled, visibly marked as Different (by their own actions), flat and seedy hypersexual behavior, a person whose only motive is to instill fear and who has no internal or external justifications otherwise. He's the, word choice intentional, reality-disconnected nightmare of an upper-middle-class centrist-to-conservative white suburbanite, a perfect subhuman threat of a monster, the kind you can look at and go "yeah, setting this guy on fire was a fair call".

(Speaking of, it's... interesting, the way he reacts to being set on fire, isn't it? Everywhere else he's either implausibly resilient and unconcerned, furious and still threatening, or has a hammy movie villain sort of distress when threatened or thwarted. But he sure does act like an actual person who's on fire there, doesn't he? Like the sort of scene that might be indelibly marked on someone's memory, if they watched a real person burn to death?)

And he's also pretty explicitly framed in the movie as a construction of some kind, much moreso than as a vengeful ghost. The (weirdly casually racist but period typical) lucid dreaming explanation, and Nancy's approach from that point on, certainly support that framing, as does the fixation on (drawing strength from?) fear and belief. Nancy seems to think he's coming from her brain, and maybe he is by that point, but Nancy didn't know who Fred Kreuger was when all this started. Her parents and her friends' parents did.

I dunno. Like I said, this is a ramble, not a coherent essay. But I think there's a decent argument to be made that the real Fred Kreuger was never involved here at all, except as a fossilized impression in the psyches of a nightmare's true source.

[bimbosanddolls]

Choose Your Own Adventure: The Dark Sorceress

You stand outside the door to the Midnight Cathedral’s throne room. Inside, you’re certain that you will find the Dark Sorceress Narcissa. The very thought of her sends a chill through your body. For years, Narcissa has tormented your kingdom. Tales of princesses being vanished away, curses placed upon entire towns and villages, and countless other terrible stories are whispered throughout the taverns and castles alike. In an attempt to finally cast the shadow of Narcissa away once and for all, a group of promising heroines were assembled and trained to become a new Order of Witch Slayers. You are the fifth Slayer to be tasked with Narcissa’s defeat; the first four having never been seen again after storming the Cathedral. You shudder as you think of your fellow Slayers before taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. You would be the one to finally end the Sorceress' reign of terror and avenge your sisters. With a renewed sense of purpose, you summon a blast of wind magic and send the heavy onyx doors flying open. Inside the throne room, your bold entrance has fallen surprisingly flat. Four veiled figures turn their heads and, though you cannot see their eyes, you can feel their gaze on you. It feels familiar but unfriendly. You’ve interrupted something and they are not pleased. You notice that they are nude; their lithe bodies in stark contrast to the sheer, black veils they wear. Between them, dressed in a long, black gown, sits the Dark Sorceress herself. Her eyes are also fixed on you, but you do not sense any concern in them. Instead, you see her blood red lips curve into a wicked smile as Narcissa stands from her throne and takes a step forward. “My my, what do we have here?” her words are heavy and sensuous. “Had I known we were expecting company, I would have dressed the girls in something a little more… appropriate.” You can feel your blood begin to boil. It’s clear she doesn’t see you as a threat. You reach for the blade at your hip but freeze when your eyes dart from the Sorceress to her attendants. A look of disbelief washes over your face, and Narcissa responds with a knowing laugh. “Oh? Did you notice your friends? Or, forgive me, were they your sisters? I never did bother to understand the structure of your little Order.” You look past her again, taking a moment to focus on each woman still kneeling by the throne. Narcissa wasn’t wrong; these were indeed the missing Slayers. Each of them is recognizable to you, yet different. The fire that previously burned in each of their eyes is now doused. Their toned bodies appear softer, and more inviting. You can’t tell whether either is the result of the Dark Sorceress’ magic but you suppose it doesn’t truly matter right now. Your mission is clear; slay the witch. Rescuing your allies would have to come later. You reach for your blade again, determined to finish this once and for all. If Narcissa is worried at all, her expression does not show it. “Oh darling,” she purrs, “do you really think that cheap piece of steel is going to do anything to me? It doesn’t need to be this way, you know. You could join me, join the others."

She gestures back towards your sisters, "Don’t they seem happy? Does it really seem as though I’ve harmed them in any way? I know you all consider me to be some sort of ‘Dark Sorceress’ but I assure you I am a very kind and loving Mistress.” You say nothing but your eyes shoot back to the former Slayers. Could it be true? Or was this just another one of Narcissa’s evil tricks? Perhaps seeing your hesitation, she takes the opportunity to elaborate. “Think about it, dear. They took you from your families, trained you to little more than tools for their cause, and denied you the chance to make your own path. All I’ve done is offer your ‘sisters’ a choice. And now I offer you the same. You may join us and experience a life of your own, a life that the people you mean to defend have hidden from you. Or, you can fight and feel the fullest extent of my power.”

[mogamuncher]

Chapter I: The Heroine and the Knight

“Whatever horrors you may find in these dark spaces, have heart and see them through. There are no premature endings. There are no wrong decisions. There are only fresh perspectives and new beginnings.”

“This is a love story.”

•••

Chapter I: The Heroine and the Knight

You are on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path, is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin, is a knight. You are here to slay him. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Quite predictably, you tilt your head in confusion at such words, uncomprehending, despite how clearly and easily it was explained. "What do you mean? How is he going to end the world?"

It doesn't matter how he will end the world, all that matters is that he's going to do it. Rather, it matters that you are going to stop it, preferably by slaying him. There should be no need for you to ponder on unnecessary details outside of that.

Though such sensible words were spoken, you look on forward at the path with a confused and bumbling expression, as if concerned.

"So he's reaaaaally scary?"

No, he's a normal knight.

. . .

At that, you somehow become even more confused.

"But then. . . Isn't it really bad? To kill a knight like that?"

Obviously, you wasted your breath to ask a simply idiotic question, one that is frankly just to be expected coming from the likes of you. In the first place, what does it matter that you're killing a knight specifically? Is this your sad attempt to be a moralist? There's nothing more inherently wrong with killing a knight than it is to kill a blacksmith or a tailor, in fact it would be more morally sound to kill the knight, as he theoretically would be the most fair to fight, being able to defend himself.

"Eeh? Still though. . ."

There's really nothing else to discuss here, you're wasting the time of both me and everyone else in this world, the longer you take to slay that knight the more you put the rest of the world at risk. Do you want to be the reason that the world ends?

"N-No! Obviously not! I'd never want something so horrible!" You protested with a pathetic squeak, sounding vaguely like a mouse that's being stomped on.

Then stop dilly dallying and go to the cabin, the world depends on you, unfortunately.

Eventually you come to your senses and do just that, walking along the path in the silent still forest, until you see a hill. Of course, atop that hill there sat the cabin, a seemingly normal wooden structure of fairly small size.

Now, before you go in, here's a word of warning;

He will lie, he will cheat, and he will do anything to make sure you don't slay him. Don't believe a word he says.

Voice of the Noble: [Not that I would willingly doubt another's good intentions, however, haven't you simply been too biased this whole time?]

"That's exactly what I was thinking! I mean, we haven't even met him yet. . . There's no reason to mistrust him like this."

Truly, even ugliness has a limit, why would you let yourself be swayed by any old voice that speaks in your brain?

"Eh? But," You tilted your head, a puppy-ish display of confusion. "Isn't that what you are also?"

Voice of the Noble: [Indeed. There is nothing that should make you any more reliable than me.]

Regardless, you should hurry to the cabin anyways, and hopefully you'll do so ignoring any stray noise from a certain disembodied voice.

Voice of the Noble: [Ah, she completely gave up in answering me, after all. . .]

Voice of the Noble: [Even so, we should refrain from making any judgements until we meet said knight.]

Nodding your head to agree with said certain disembodied voice, you finally decided to walk towards the cabin, soon stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

The cabin itself was small and old, ordinary in every sense of the word, with the only real furniture of note being a small wooden table with a small blade perched atop of it. Said blade is your implement, it would be rather difficult to slay the knight without it.

. . . But even knowing so, your hand hesitated slightly as you reached out to the blade, before it fully dropped to your side, limp—— Pray tell, what exactly are you waiting for?

"Well, I agree with the other voice, I want to talk with that knight before I do something as drastic a slaying him! I would feel awful if I hurt him over something as silly as a misunderstanding."

There are no misunderstandings to be had there though, he's going to end the world you foolish girl, what's there for you to not understand?

"Even so! I want to talk to him first, and it would be reaaaaally difficult to do that if I came in while holding a knife. What if he gets scared of me?"

Voice of the Noble: [Admittedly, it would be difficult to have civil conversation with anyone if they were holding a weapon—much more so if they were there with the specific purpose of ending you.]

"See? He understands!"

You two are incorrigible.

Voice of the Noble: [For some reason, I can almost picture her disgusted face right now.]

"Eh, me too. . ."

Ugh.

Well, leaving your only weapon alone because of your own incredibly foolish reasoning, you stepped forward, face to face with the door to the basement. Taking a deep breath to steel your own nerves, you went inside.

Creeeak.

The wood groaned underneath your feet as you slowly went down the stairs. Dark and forgotten, the wood was a bit dusty, the walls narrow in relation to the staircase, this place was as claustrophobic as it was simple. If the knight truly lives here, slaying him would be doing him a favor.

But your sightseeing was soon interrupted by a voice carrying up the stairs. It was curious, light, airy, a bit playful. It was as if the person speaking was a cheerful sort of friendly, the type of person that carelessly treated serious situations with casualness.

"Hellooo? Is someone there? I sure hope it's not another doom flag. . . Being chained here is already enough of a stain in my pride as it is!"

Voice of the Noble: [He sounds. . . Nice. Perhaps a bit too callous considering the situation he is in, but he does not at all sound like a threat.]

That's what he wants you to think, anyhow. What, are you really letting him get to your head this quickly?

"But he really did sound friendly though." You protested, annoyingly so.

Voice of the Noble: [. . .]

Voice of the Noble: [Undoubtedly, your narration is beyond biased.]

Regardless, you keep walking down the stairs, until you finally reach the basement.

That's when you see him, The Knight;

With short slicked back hair black as the starless sky, equally as dark owlish eyes, he was dressed in armour that was only a bit dirty despite his time in the basement, a side cape surrounding him as he fumbled it with his hands. A single shackle and chain was wrapped around his wrist, whole another stayed vacant on the wall near him. He was sitting down, seeing you walk in.

The knight himself stopped to stare up at you, blinking once and twice, before he shook his head rather suddenly. His face split into a friendly grin then, he waved in your direction, the chain clanking loudly as he did so.

"Hey there! You're new—well I guess anyone would be new, since I don't have any visitors at all—but hey are you here to save me? Ah, I would be happy if that was case, but somehow my heart still aches at the thought of being casted as the damsel here. This is just too disheartening, you know?"

At his unending friendly chatter, you balk slightly, taking a step back, you reply rather eloquently:

"E-Eh?"

Hm, indeed, riveting.

Voice of the Noble: [Oh give us a break, we did not expect for the Knight to be so. . . Spirited.]

Oh? And here I thought it was your decision to simply talk to him before taking any action, should you not have been prepared for said Knight to have a eccentric personality at the least, then? I mean, you were told he was going to destroy the world, after all.

Voice of the Noble: [That is different. The problem is not that he's unapproachable, rather, it's the opposite.]

So you've been stumped because the Knight you're supposed to slay is actively cheerful? What kind of heroine lets herself be swayed by such things?

"Uhhh, hey, are you just going to stare at me?" The Knight asked, having finally stopped talking, staring at you with a slightly nervous expression.

He patted the spot right in front of him, as if goading her to come close to him.

"Well it's awkward to talk to anyone from so far away. So, c'mon! Sit here with me, it's been ages since I've had a tete-a-tete with anyone."

Voice of the Noble: [Despite his eccentricity, I see no harm in us sitting down to talk with him. After all, simply slaying a knight without any reason would be awfully unbecoming of us.]

"I don't know what a teytey-ah-teytey is, but of course, I'll sit with you."

Saying that, you foolishly walked closer to the chained up man, sitting down in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something, but right before he could utter a single word you beat him to it, extending your arm out with your finger raised, as if making an addendum.

"Make no mistake, this is not me choosing to believe in you right away. This is for my own benefit, because I don't like being in the dark about things."

Despite your stern tone, his smile only seemed to gain a rather genuine edge to it, though he nodded gravely.

"Of course, of course."

"This is an interrogation, I want to know your real intentions, so I need you to be honest with me."

"Understood, you'll get nothing out of my mouth that isn't the full truth, 100%, 1000% even!"

"Thank you for agreeing. In that case, please tell me your name!"

With that, the Knight stopped. Growing pensive, he scratched at his head as if trying to recollect something, before he sprung up with a snap of his fingers. He got up suddenly, startling you, making a ridiculous pose as he just his hip out and pointed towards the basement ceiling.

"I am 「The Knight」, I'm broke and clueless beyond compare! In fact, I'm so clueless that I have no idea what my actual name is. For that, you can just call me 「Knight」 or 「The Knight」 for now!"

"My, when you put it like that you do sound utterly hopeless! Still, it's nice to meet you, mister Knight."

"Hearing anyone call me like that feels extremely awkward," He rubbed the back of his neck, sitting back down on the ground in front of you. "It sounds like I'm someone's dad. Please have mercy, I'm still young. . . I think."

Voice of the Noble: [Shouldn't he at least know his own age? Or his name, for that matter?]

Indeed, he should. Do you not find that odd?

You say as much, anyhow. "It is strange though. . . You don't remember your name, or how old you are?"

The Knight shook his head, seeming oddly sheepish again.

"Not at all. For all I know I have just been stuck here this whole time."

"And how long have you been here?"

"Ah, well. . . I don't know."

You tilted your head, confused, he scrambled to explain himself, the chain flying with his hurried arm movements.

"I just——! I lost count if how long I've been here, okay??? It's not like I have a clock y'know? It could've been days, or months, or years, or five minutes, I wouldn't know!"

Voice of the Noble: [That sounds inhumane!]

And why do you say that? Have you ever thought that perhaps he deserved such treatment? After all for someone that's said to be a bringer of an actual apocalypse, mere imprisonment is actually a light punishment, no?

Voice of the Noble: [And what is even being punished here? As far as I am aware, we are still here and so are you, so he hasn't even done anything wrong yet!]

Yet. Besides, does he need to do something bad to face consequences when his future actions are already known? He can only end the world once, knowing that, shouldn't those that live in said world have the right to get rid of him at once the minute they know what he'll do? It's simple prevention of a future issue, is all.

Voice of the Noble:[So you're keeping an innocent man in captivity.]

Yes. After all, said innocent man will soon become non-innocent, at least that is if you won't slay him. If not to save the actual world, then at least end him for the sake of helping to retain that innocent, after all, who wouldn't want to die wholly blameless?

Voice of the Noble: [Hgk——! That. . .]

"That is horrible!" You protested out loud, which the Knight in front of you nodded, clearly misunderstanding it as a response to his earlier complaints.

"That's what I've been saying! Couldn't they at least have given me some books? A TV? A sewing kit? Even just a deck of Uno would be fine at this point!"

While the Knight listed off several nonsensical things that you had no clue about, still, you smiled at him. Perhaps his cheerful attitude despite his imprisonment has moved you.

Either way, you move on with your faux interrogation, pointlessly extracting information from someone you'll inevitably have to slay either way.

"Someone told me that you're going to end the world, is that true?"

"Eeeeh? Well, that's news to me! In the first place, I would find it difficult to end even a single fly if I wasn't chained up. How am I supposed to end the world?"

"In that case, mister Knight, what would you do if you got out of here?"

"I dunno. . . I would like to see the stars in the night sky, I think. I can't help but feel like I haven't seen them in so long. . . Truly, seeing them again, is what I want to do."

"If someone like me were to free you. . . You wouldn't try to hurt me?"

"Not at all! In fact I would be eternally grateful and would thank you a million times over. I'll let you know I can show my gratitude just fine, Heroine-tan!"

At his odd words, you pause, looking at him in incredulity.

"What did you just call me?" You asked, and the Knight shrugged.

"Well, if you're talking about freeing me, then I can only assume you're the fated rescuer that'll sweep me off my feet and away from here. Since you're a very beautiful girl, who's rescuing me so heroically, "Heroine" is the perfect name to refer to you by!"

Your cheeks flush, stuttering a bit, your response gets cut short by him continuing his tirade.

"The "tan" is just a term of endearment, it's a nickname from me to you. You give those to the people you think fondly of."

"You think fondly of me?! We just—— We met today!"

"And you're the first person I've seen in so long. . . Sorry, but you did end my loneliness, even if for just a single moment. I think fondly of that."

You stare at him after that, and he blushes, averting his gaze, he scratched his cheek idly.

"Though with you staring at me like that," He said, bashfully looking back at you. "I can't help but feel like my maidenly feelings are at risk here."

Voice of the Noble: [. . . Maidenly feelings?]

He's speaking in complete nonsense. Like I said, it is pointless to converse with him, you will have to kill him either way.

Even so, your will seems to only steel further. Your hands shoot up and grasp the Knight's own, he blinked at you, flushed and shocked, ugly eyes somehow a bit softer.

"I have decided, mister Knight," You say, your annoying voice surprisingly even. "I will free you from this place. We are both getting out of here."

He gasps, and you can almost see something light up in his dark eyes.

"You really mean it? You'll save me?"

"I will. I promise."

Indeed, promises mean a lot to you, don't they?

Voice of the Noble: [Good. This boy is clearly innocent, and should not have to suffer here alone. Anyone with a conscience would see it fit to rescue him.]

Even after all my warnings, it seems impossible for either of you to gain a single bit of common sense. . .

Voice of the Noble: [You say that, but the entire time that you have been describing him you have not once antagonized him. At least not how you do to us.]

. . . Well, I'm not one to misinterpret things, anyhow. He will end the world, but if personal feelings were to get involved, then I could easily say that prefer him overall.

Voice of the Noble: [Oh, is that so?]

"I'll need something to open this with," You say, tugging on the chain holding the Knight prisoner. You get up and start walking to the basement stairs, thinking of searching for a key on the first floor.

Thump.

Unluckily for you, however, the door atop of the stairs simply closed on their own, locking both you and the Knight there. You're not leaving this basement until you've slain him, I fear.

. . .

You pout, rather childishly may I add, putting your hands on your hips like a scorned mother.

"Aren't you being to hard on poor mister Knight? He's a reaaaaally good boy, you should let him go!"

While yes, The Knight is a very good boy, you must understand the predicament we are all in at the moment. He will end the world. That is everything there is and ever will be, he will be the downfall of everything to ever exist. No matter how good he is as a person, nothing can ever change that fact. He must he slain, for the good everyone else. It's the right thing to do.

Voice of the Noble: [That's hardly true, he seems perfectly average. How is a single normal human person going to end the world?]

He just is, what's there to not understand?

Voice of the Noble: [That is not an explanation!]

It's the only explanation you're getting.

"Ah, did they lock you in here too?" The Knight spoke, having heard the door close from his spot on the floor. "Damn, that's ruthless. I think we both could kick down the door if we tried together though. . . I just need to get out of here."

Hearing the clanking of him tugging at his own restraints, you turn around and go back to him, where he's glaring at his shackled wrist like it had personally wronged him.

"Damnit, I just need to get rid of this one chain, I can't even pick the lock since there isn't one! I just. . ."

You see the exact moment that an idea seems to come to him, his face lights up and he grins, giving you mildly sheepish smile, he warns you. "Say, I got an idea, but I think you might want to look away for this, it's going to get ugly."

You nod, but don't look away at all, staring at him in curiosity.

Voice of the Noble: [Just what is he going to do, exactly?]

He takes a deep breath, as if to steel his own resolve, the Knight looks down at his wrist with pure determination in his eyes.

"C'mon, aren't you a knight? This is another step to the freedom of Heroine-tan and yourself!"

After giving himself a pep talk, the Knight finally shows exactly what his "idea" was.

The black haired man dug into his own wrist with his teeth, gnawing at the skin, pulling until he was tearing through it, his canine teeth shredded through the meat as he seemed to be filled with a feral sort of ambition, clearly aiming to eventually get to the bone. Oh dear, I can no longer watch this.

Voice of the Noble: [Dear Od, stop him! This is horrible, he's hurting himself——!]

Just as the sound of steel clattering to the floor sounded out in the background, you bopped him on the head, making him detach his mouth from his wrist with a undignified yelp.

"Ow! Hey——!"

"Mister Kniiiight you dunderhead! Don't hurt yourself like that, that's terrible!"

"Eh? Dunderhead? Who even says that anymore?" He said, as you gently grabbed his brutalized wrist, lips still stained with his own blood. "Also, how else am I going to get out of here? I don't see any keys nearby, and it's much better to only lose a hand than to stay here!"

Saying that, you look back to see the pristine blade from the first floor, now sitting here in the basement floor with you, that must've been what the sound from earlier was.

Voice of the Noble: [And I must assume that this was your doing?]

. . .

Perhaps.

Seeing the blade, you go retrieve it, coming back to the Knight with it in hand, you extended out hand for him to give you his wrist.

"If that is the case. . . Then please, let me do it like this, I just don't want you to hurt yourself. . ."

He stared up at young again, something meaningful passing through his eyes, however it is fleeting, passing you by before you can properly grasp it.

"Mm, so it seems like Heroine-tan is too kind, after all." With a fond smile, he gives you his injured and bleeding wrist, you hold it like its the finest of all porcelain.

And so, you do. You carefully use your blade to first cut through flesh, then you cut through bone. Through it all he simply stays still, at first looking at what you were doing, until you gently guided his head with your hand, tilting his gaze to stay on your face so he wouldn't see such a grisly sight.

Though by the end it didn't seem like he needed such tender care, as he easily separated the severed hand from the rest of his arm, laying it down on the ground as he got up, finally free from the chain. His smile, however, indicated that he appreciated it, at least.

"Thank you."

You held on to his remaining hand, squeezing tight, somehow it seems like severing his hand shook you up more than it did him.

Voice of the Noble: [It is only natural, anyone would feel sick at having to do such a thing to rescue someone. Still, it is truly remarkable of him to not react at all, it was his hand in the first place.]

Exactly, is it not suspicious? How he didn't blink at all when his hand was cut off? How he immediately jumped into mauling himself to get out?

Voice of the Noble: [He is a knight, staying clear headed in life or death situations is to be expected. And while it was. . . Distasteful. . . It was necessary, in his perspective, to get us all out of here.]

Your ability to wear rose tinted glasses truly astounds me.

"Now, let's go kick that door down!" With more self confidence than before, he led the way towards the door, letting go of your hand for a single moment as he went to a surefire way out——

I am not letting you do this.

Both of your hands grip your blade tight, bringing it up as he turns his back to you.

Voice of the Noble: [What?! You can't—— You can't just do that!]

Oh but you will find that I very much can, in fact, I will.

Your hands go up, one smooth downwards motion is all you need——

"Mister Knight, dodge!"

——But you still find it in yourself to warn him, making him jolt fowards, as your blade narrowly misses him. Stop making this harder than it needs to be, foolish girl, I am trying to save the world.

Voice of the Noble: [You are making us do things against our will!]

I am making you do your job.

Still, despite the irrationality of your actions, your hand grips the wrist of the hand that was still yielding the blade, trembling, you hold yourself back as the Knight turns to look at you, his expression one of melancholy and understanding.

"Oh, this isn't you. . . You're trying so hard to help me, aren't you?"

He walked up to your shaky form, gently taking the blade from your unsteady hand as you let him, unbelievable.

Looking at you, he already seems to be mourning something.

An intrinsic understanding passes over you both, he seems to know what is the only way to resolve this, and you seem to agree, giving him a timid nod, resolute in keeping your promise.

"For what it's worth," He smiled, it looked like he was near tears. "I really liked you."

He breathes in, and sighs.

And then he stabs your chest.

. . .

But you do not die, not yet.

For a knight, he seems to have missed the mark of where your heart is, you stayed alive even if in pain. The Knight winced, taking the blade out, he tried again, a stab.

He missed again, you are still alive.

"I. . . I am so sorry."

Again. He misses.

"I'm sorry!'

Again again again again gain——!

"Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry I'M SORRY!"

Eventually it all becomes too much, you collapse to the floor in a death by a thousand of paper cuts, slowly bleeding out as the Knight looks down at your body. He drops the blade, tears starting to run down his bloodied face, his blood is sure to mixed with your in there now.

Voice of the Noble: [No, it can't be. . . This can't be the end!]

I am afraid that it is.

"I wish. . . I really wanted you to. . ."

Crying softly as he kneeled next to you, the last thing you can feel is his hand holding onto yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. For a knight, his hand is oddly soft.

Thes last thing you hear is him as well, his mournful sobs and his whispered confession.

". . . Save me."

Everything goes dark, and you die.

•••

AN: Whew, that really was something, huh?

Uhhh yeah hi this post is way out of what I usually do around here, but I had been itching to write something about this au, sooo i did this!

Ok ok so like, let me give you a bit of Author's Commentary™ on this:

The formatting was the biggest hurdle, as translating the Slay the Princess style of storytelling into text is a bit difficult. I settled on writing in second person and having the literal story narration be the Narrator/Echidna talking, that way I won't need to both have Echidna talking as if she's narrating and also another actual text narrator. For all the times that Dona is in the story, she's both herself and the actual storytelling device.

For the voices, as you can see I'm going for something similar to what they do in the novel (inspired by me reading the witch cult translations in preparation to writing this fic) because it's easier to keep track of. For now you guys only get to meet Julius, but this will eventually get real messy

Emilia and Subaru are the only characters who actually talk with quotation marks, so I went absolutely ham in pacing their dialogue, especially since I didn't need to give descriptors of who is talking all the time! I tried to make their interactions fun and charming like I'm the series, but I have no clue if I managed to capture their vibes.

The real Re:Zero curse is to be absolutely obsessed enough to read the novels over and over, but to still have no fucking clue how to write any of these characters, please help me, I am in great pain

Also yes I absolutely made that last "save me" to parallel to the end of the first loop in arc 1, this is actually a bit of a role swap in a way, since Emilia is always in a position where she can die for and save Subaru

Anyhow, please tell me what y'all think, I'll prolly keep posting chapters of this Au here until I eventually gain enough courage to post it all on AO3. Most of all, tell me if y'all want chapter 2 (AKA: The Damsel)

See ya!

[slay-the-heroine]

The Narrator:

...

Voice of the Contrarian:

Ahh. Haha...

Voice of the Prince:

Well?

The Narrator:

You turn on your heel and walk backwards down the path. You watch as the place you were slowly fades, tripping over an unseen root or fallen branch every so often.

The Narrator:

And then you reach the end of the path, and the forest's tree line is in front of you. You turn back around and see the cabin.

The Narrator:

A warning, before you go any further.

The Narrator:

She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don't believe a word she says.

Voice of the Contrarian:

You really want us to kill her, don't you? Have you ever thought that maybe you were wrong about this?

The Narrator:

Ignore him. He doesn't know anything.

Voice of the Prince:

Only because you haven't told us anything.

The Narrator:

You proceed to the cabin.

- - -

The Narrator:

The interior of the cabin is... dark. The parts you see are only glimpses of familiar shapes in the edges of your vision. No matter how you grasp for a sense of understanding, you simply have no clue what you're working with.

The Narrator:

The only things you can definitively see is a pristine blade perched on a table shrouded in darkness, and a silver door handle at the end of the room.

The Narrator:

The blade is your implement. You'll need it if you want to do this right.

Voice of the Contrarian:

A knife? We can hardly see our hands in front of us, and you expect us to use a knife? How in the world would we manage that?

Voice of the Prince:

Forget that, it can be useful. Besides, we can take it, but we don't have to do anything with it. It's for our protection more than anything.

The Narrator:

Well, you know what they say, your highness, "Offense is the best defense." Using the blade on the Heroine is in your, and everyone's, best interest. It is used for slaying.

Voice of the Prince:

Everything is dark. I can't imagine we get through this with sheer force alone. We can't be aggressive. I'm really starting to wonder if you're not actually holding out on us, and you know just as little information as we do.

The Narrator:

I know enough, and it is important that the things I do know are things that you aren't supposed to. Everything is the way it is for a reason.

The Narrator:

What you're supposed to know is that there is a Heroine in the basement ahead, and she needs to be slain. Everything will only work out if that is how things go.

Voice of the Contrarian:

What if we don't want things to work out? What if we want to see what doing something else will do? W-we aren't in the wrong here. We barely know anything about this situation.

The Narrator:

Well, you do want things to go well. That can mean many different things, but no matter what your end goal is, you'll need a world to do anything in. Which will only continue to exist if you slay her.

The Narrator:

I know it is dark. But the things you need to see are visible: the blade and the door.

Voice of the Prince:

I suppose you think our own feet in front of us aren't important enough, then?

The Narrator:

You can feel them against the floor just fine. You aren't going to run into anything. Just hurry along.

Voice of the Contrarian:

W-we feel the floor? What's it like...?

The Narrator:

The... floor? It's... Well, it's, um... Tile? And wood. And... Metal?

Voice of the Prince:

You genuinely sound more confused than we are. Just come on and direct us better.

Voice of the Contrarian:

Ungh... I can't believe this... Our only sense of anything is dangling by a thread in His hands... I'm sick of it...

Voice of the Prince:

Yes, I know. We're all lost here. But we all know the best thing to do is just try and find out. We'll be careful.

The Narrator:

With caution and intention, that's all I ask of you.

>>>

[omgkalyppso]

Tav Banter and Dialogue

This ask game.

Clicking on them once (non-combat)

Étoile:

(gasp) Someone stepped on my grave. [said as if they had a chill] And onwards. Need help with a high shelf? Taking point. Worried I'll wander off? I remember what we're doing. [unconvincingly] Ready to keep going? Two steps forward. Do you think it ever snows here?

Meabh: Watch yourself. [warning] Borgakh: (soft laughter) [ticklish] Inithray: About time. [entitled]

2.Spam clicking on them too many times

Étoile:

We need to find you a cat to bother. [barely holding their irritation together] I hope that isn't the parasite squirming. [despondent] I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. [with dread]

Meabh: Just like a sibling. [fond] Borgakh: Need something? [amused] Inithray: You won't like it if I poke you back. [calm, questionably flirtatious]

All of the answers after this are for Étoile only:

3. Directing them to attack/move in combat

Place me at the center. Let their blood run cold. No room for hesitation. Need a shield? Their mistake, ultimately. The cold chill of death. Once more, with feeling!

4.Hiding/sneaking/hidden movement

I know how to hunt. No footprints. As the wind. And now for the plan. Carefully.

Spam sneaking:

You know what they say about the dead of winter? I've crouched already. I won't crawl here. Any lower and you'd lose me.

5.Taking a short rest

And up again. Reminded of academics living on Haste. [exasperated] Ready to press forward. Helped with the aches.

6.Low health/asking for healing

Close. [as in, opposite of far] Hope only my skull is cracked. Armor's expensive. Could use an ice pack. Fu-frozen firesides. [redirected swearing] Rattled, but still in reach of healing.

7.Attacked by a party member

Is this what we're doing? I know we're all worm-brained, but smarten up. You want more enemies?

8.Companion/romance death reactions

From Étoile about:

Gale: Snows above. [like a curse] Gale! Karlach: Karlach! No. Not yet! Lae'zel: Orta Ohtar! [Rise Warrior] Lae'zel! Please. Shadowheart: It's not that dark yet, Shadowheart! Astarion: Astarion! You and your wasted blood. Astarion, post Pale Elf: Astarion! Pairëtulte. [Vengeance comes for them.] Wyll: Wyll! Blade?! Hey! Ravengard! Jaheira: Jaheira! Ama, ama, ama Thalieth! [with increasing volume] [Up, up, up heroine / dauntless woman!] Not here. Minsc: Shit, Minsc! Hang on! Halsin: Taurëva! [one from the great forest] Si tauvar. [this] [endure] [Endure this.] Minthara: Minthara! Avanwa Ainolto arwatyë. [forbidden] [gods-they] [possessing you (informal / familiar)] [They (the gods) are forbidden from taking you.] Hold on!

About Étoile dying from:

Gale: Étoile! No, not now! Gale, if Étoile's faith is known: Étoile! Don't you dare seek out that frozen palace quite yet! Karlach: We need our Bulwark, don't we? On your feet, Étoile! Lae'zel: No! Étoile! Your life won't end here! Shadowheart: Étoile! Prove me wrong and get! Up! Astarion: Damn you, Étoile. You can't die. You hear me? Wyll: Étoile! Not like this… Jaheira: Every paladin the same! This is no time for sacrifice! Minsc: Étoile! Now is not the time for the resting of peace! Do not get comfortable! Halsin: No, Étoile! Please, Oakfather, not yet. Minthara: Étoile proved as reliable as expected.

9.Going to buff/heal a companion/romance

Answered here.

10.Sending them to talk to an NPC

Any:

Excuse me. Just a quick word. Hear me.

Companions / At Camp:

Building bridges. A friend indeed.

11.Sending them to talk to their romanced partner

Act 1: Stop blushing. [at self] Act 2: Perfectly normal feelings. Act 3: Lúmënya an mírë. [my time = time that belongs to me] [for] [a precious thing: jewel, treasure] [I'll give my time to my beloved.]

12.Encountering a locked chest/door

Secret or private? Should I give it a good shake? Must have a solution somewhere. Hope it isn't also Alarmed.

13.Picking a lock

A lucky new skill. Not as hard as I thought it'd be. Glad that worked. Hello, secret stash.

14.Looking at a globe

Impiltur doesn't look that far, like this, comparatively. I really hope there aren't creatures of a size that can look at us like this. I wonder if there are enough place names on this to date when it was made?

15.Looking at an astrolabe

I love the sky, but these make me dizzy. Planes over planes over planes. Glad the nautiloid found Faerun. Get lost out there and— Snows above.

16.Looking at a telescope

Should point one of these at the Tears later. I wonder if the person who made this imagined it could end up here. I wonder how far these can be enchanted to see? Could I see home?

17.Looking in a mirror

Am I just another horror someone saw on this journey? Should trim my hair when this is over. Best not look too close. If I see the parasite I'll— Eugh.

18.Looking at a nonmagical lamp

Always felt special to read by lamplight after years of candles, even lacking a genie.

19.Noticing a trap

Trap! Mind yourself. Trap here. I wonder who they were keeping out? Careful. At least one trap to avoid.

20.Can’t fit into a small hole

Small: That hole is too small for elven hands. Tiny: I will not peek into that tiny hole and risk a rodent to the eye.

21.Comments/reactions near an Act 1 location

The Harper lookout on the hill: Recent fire, long dead remains. Magical, you think? Or did they just like to sit next to Old Boney?

After killing the Harpies: With nests so close to the Grove you'd think there'd have been a warning.

Blighted Village, centertown: I wonder if wherever I was originally from looks like this now.

Blighted Village, hopscotch: I wonder when this was last used. Do you think these goblins—?

Ethel's Teahouse: Mind your manners and want for nothing when dealing with, well— You never outgrow some lessons.

Underdark, post Spectator: That was terrible. We're standing in a tragedy of drow. Do you think I could take a tooth from the beast as a souvenir?

Underdark, Stool of Hill Giant Strength: Feeling pretty powerful in this seat. It would be nice if it lingered a little.

Underdark, by the lava pools: Is the smell of molten rock bothering anyone else? And it's so sweaty down here.

Temple of Lathander: Do these ruined halls not bother you?

22.Comments/reactions near an Act 2 location

Entering Act 2: Adventurers in the area have avoided this cursed patch of land my whole career. Easy to see why.

Shadow-Cursed Lands, dead tieflings: I … I'd just learned their names. Why were they on this path? Did the curse do this?

Shadow-Cursed Lands, releasing Doly Dolly Dolly: Freedom. Will be happy to share the sentiment once we have the parasites gone.

Gauntlet of Shar: There was almost nothing left of Lathander in his temple, but Shar still walks here.

Moonrise Towers: Selunite priests walked these halls once, and now Absolute … Absolutists?

Reithwin Tollhouse, Thayan Shipment Box: Acursed thing.

The Waning Moon: Oh, eugh.

House of Healing, with reference to Étoile's personal quest: It looks like someone left this window in a hurry.

House of Healing, after reading the betting records: I … I have found myself thrilled in killing, time's past; but not killing as a thrill. I am not this. I cannot abide this.

23.Comments/reactions near an Act 3 location

Rivington: It’s a miracle it’s still standing, with all it’s been through, with all that’s coming.

Wyrm’s Crossing, checkpoint: Don’t pay the Fist. I’m sure we’ll find a way to get word inside that’ll lead to a cheaper and, ironically, less corrupt way to access the Gate.

Lower City, graveyard: I know too many people here. The way of things. Let me know if you want a tour sometime.

Lower City, residential quarter: It’s good to be home.

Lower City, Umberlee’s temple: As a worshiper of Auril, I feel it prudent to leave something with Umberlee’s donations; but that doesn’t mean I dream of navigating the sea, I’m not an idiot.

Lower City, docks, below ground, approaching the submarine: Noooo. [groaned] No, no, no, no — snows below, can you not bring someone else into the depths of the sea a stone’s throw from Umberlee’s temple?

24.Lines said in the Morphic Pool or High Hall

Morphic Pool:

Étoile: I wish we had a back up plan. Gale: We could always— Étoile: Nevermind. Gale: I was going to say, we could always try Divine Intervention. I don’t think Shadowheart’s had time to commune with Selune yet. Étoile: (laughing) Come on. We have to use Netherese Stones to command an Elderbrain into sparing the city. Gale: Oh, well when you put it like that.

High Hall:

Étoile’s Personal Quest Dependent: I can feel Sozican. Flying higher than the fires here could ever rage. She will answer when we call, and I will see you through, no matter where you place me.

Étoile’s Personal Quest, Sozican defeated: All those lives lost to the Netherbrain and her stolen Chosen … I would gladly fight fruitlessly against her, but with you I have purpose, and together, we have a chance. As you have so ably since our first meeting: Lead on.

35.How would your Tav/Durge greet a player character if they were a companion at low, neutral, high, or romanced approval?

Very Low: Yes, friend? [stiff] And what now?

Low: Can I help you? Something to discuss?

Neutral: One step at a time. Looking to talk? The wonders never cease, eh? What’s on your mind?

High: You’re moving with purpose. Am I in trouble? Aiya. [Hail] Need to talk something out?

Flirting: Sparing time for me? How gracious. At your disposal. You’re lovely. What do you need?

Romanced: Ter melwa. [So lovely] What can I do for you? Ask away, alassënya. [my joy] You clearly have something on your mind. Do you need me serious? I can be serious. Go on.

37.How would they respond to a player character prompting them with, "Tell me about yourself"?

I am a Paladin, have been for the past sixty-six years, the last thirty of which have been spent in and out of Baldur’s Gate. Gainfully employed with the Adventurer’s Guild. Feeling … worn, by the parasite. Spells and reactions aren’t coming as readily as they should, but even so, I am accustomed to holding a shield over peers that strike enemies harder than I could, and I prefer it that way. I do like helping people.

I. Sixty-six years? II. Is your Oath very restrictive? Paladins have that reputation… III. What sort of jobs did you do with the Guild? IV. This isn’t an altruistic situation we find ourselves in. V. Where were you before Baldur’s Gate?

I. I honestly can’t tell if you think I’m too young or too old for that, but yes. All my adult life after my first century.

II. In most things, I’ll defer to your judgment. I’m not exactly prepared to face this [gestures to head] alone. I do know the types of Paladins that you’re referring to, and I suspect you’ll find me at least marginally different.

III. There are monsters enough across the coast. Terrorizing people, needed as ingredients for adept wizards, threatening the safety of her roads. Then there’s disbanding banditry, escorting pilgrims, researchers, the rich, and there’s always a job or two that can be summed up as ‘vengeance.’ That was the last one I was on when the nautiloid picked me up.

IV. You and I are people much as anyone else. I’ll help us first, and leave the rest in your hands.

V. East and east and east. I’m originally from Impiltur, and left into Cormyr to see the world, as one does, and as the years past I just continued west until I ran out of land. Baldur’s Gate’s been a good resting place. I don’t think of it as my permanent home really, but my history probably says otherwise.

38.If a player character asks them to consider consuming tadpoles or using the Astral tadpoles, how would your Tav/Durge respond?

Asking Étoile about the tadpoles: Having a single parasite in my head is enough for me. I want that one gone, and have faith that there is plenty of outside magic with which to confront our challenges without needing to resort to empowering our brain worms. No offense. I’ll trust you and the others to make your own judgments, and will endeavor to protect you either way.

You have to click Étoile on the tadpoles 6 times before they’ll eat one: No, thank you. I don’t want that. I especially don’t want that inside me. No. Please, no? I really don’t think I should. Fine. If you really think it’s best.

Asking Étoile about the astral tadpole: You know my feelings on our dream visitor turned Emperor. Even if this is honest and whoever consumes this tadpole gains the promised power … It’s uncomfortable. It risks too much. How much influence might our existing parasites, and their puppetmaster, might have already exerted over us. If it sounds reasonable, it is because the Emperor wants it to be so, not because it is. No.

I. You just confessed you’re not being objective. This is power you could wield over your parasite. [Persuasion 15]

I. Persuasion success: I … Maybe? I — I don’t know. And that’s the problem isn’t it? But you’re sure. [pause] Alright. If this is our way out, how we take control of ourselves and stop an Elderbrain … Alright.

I. Persuasion failure: [-10 approval] You are being entirely unreasonable, and don’t even have the courtesy to be honest with me about why you’re asking me to do this. I’m done. [un-interactable until after a long rest]

39.If romanceable, what lines would they say if a player character prompted them with, "Can I kiss you?"

You are entirely my pleasure. Netë, netë, netë… [one more, another : used in enumerating a series: e.g. 1, 2, (3), netë, netë, netë…with netë used instead of citing the actual numbers ] Please?

40.If romanceable, what would they say if a player character asks for a "last kiss" at the Morphic Pool/HIgh Hall?

Unchanged: It hardly feels the time, but when you phrase it like that … [kiss] Now focus. I’d rather survive and kiss you again.

Ceremorphosis: I— [turns away briefly, a heavy breath] Of course. [Étoile kisses their cheek / side of a tentacle] I hope that wasn’t an idle curiosity of a new being, and that you’re holding onto yourself. Let’s survive so you can prove it so? Induinya. [my purpose]

[sydmarch]

ok @minetteskvareninova & @caleblandrybones as promised here's everything i can find on the filming of heaven knows what & the whole "pretending to be homeless" thing. surprisingly after not finding any of the old articles i remember reading in my reblogs the first mention of it i managed to find was actually in a more recent interview i was just reading for funsies & didn't expect to be relevant here:

Though he has no formal Method training, Jones harks back to that tradition – especially in this era of actors as bland, gym-pumped corporate ambassadors. He was recommended to intensity merchants the Safdie brothers for the role of Ilya, the blade-hurling junkie in their 2014 heroin memoir Heaven Knows What on the basis that: “He will do what you need him to do in terms of immersing himself.” He hit the New York streets to understand the vagrant’s life. “I was panhandling a little bit and made $150 in a day.” You suspect there may have been the odd Landry Jones fan among the donors. He didn’t, though, as some have speculated online, go as far as shooting up as part of his preparation: “I worked with Malcolm McDowell [on Antiviral] and he told me: ‘You don’t need to do that shit. You can just be an actor.’”

this interview doesn't really get into his experience staying on the street but is kid of like a precursor to the experience that i found interesting bcus i'd actually never read about their first time meeting before:

So you met him in person for the first time when he arrives for the shoot? Josh Safdie: Yes. His agent asked us to put him in a fancy hotel and stuff. We rolled up to the hotel [that first night].

Ben Safdie: Everybody [from the cast] ended up staying at that hotel soon enough.

Josh Safdie: Yeah, he had a lot of people in that room. Everyone from the street was in his hotel room, they were throwing bottles out the window. So, we pull up to this stoop, and he was sitting in front of the hotel and asked immediately, “Why am I staying at this hotel?” And we were like, “Well, because your agent said…”

Ben Safdie: He said, “I thought you guys were real.”

Josh Safdie: “I thought this was going to be like a real situation. Where are Ari and Ilya staying?” It was about five degrees out, and I said, “Well, because it’s so cold, they stay at this Internet café on Eldridge.” He goes, “I’m going there.” I said, “Well, let’s hang out first.” We took him over to Sean’s house, and we watched a bunch of movies. And then I dropped him off back at his hotel and said, “Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to Ari and Ilya.”

But he didn’t go back to his room. He went and found the Internet café and got time on a computer, and stared at Ilya, the real Ilya, while he was passed out. He had known what he looked like, so he just stared at him and watched how he slept and everything. Arielle wasn’t there that night … Then the next day, I introduced him.

Ben Safdie: That first meeting, we were all sitting at a McDonald’s, and Caleb was just kind of witnessing Ari and the real Ilya. He was very careful not to say anything or do anything — he was just watching them. And, for me, that’s when I realized that he was going to be able to do it, because of the way he was watching. Every once in a while he would say something; he knew what to say to get Ilya on his side, not that it was phony in the slightest — he just knows people. That’s what you’d hope from an actor. He would say things and slowly work his way into the world.

also "At this point, Caleb was fully in costume, looked a lot like Ilya. He showered once, the entire shoot, maybe. He smelled horrible." lmao the dedication.

this one also isn't the one i was looking for where they actually talk about his experience prepping for the role but it does get mentioned:

Benny: I heard that on Contraband he got arrested and cost production a lot of money because he was sitting in jail for three days. For Heaven Knows What, he was upset that we gave him a hotel room. He wanted to stay on the streets immediately with everybody. He’s like, “If I’m going to be playing a kid on the streets, I want to be living with them.” Eventually, he found them and hung out in the streets. But when they found out he had a hotel room, everybody went back to his hotel room and he kind of fit in perfectly. You could see him observing and understanding everything.

i SWEAR back in like 2015 i remember reading another interview where they actually talked directly to caleb about his time filming but i cannot fucking find it & i've dug through literally every interview i was able to find for this movie. also totally disregard what i said in my tags earlier about "wasn't it filming for this when he met katya" bcus once i used my brain cells for 2 seconds i realized that doesn't make any sense timeline wise so it wasdefinitely a different time he looked homeless ig (lmfao???) bcus i distinctly remember him saying she thought he was homeless & didn't believe he was an actor but i will be attempting to dig up that interview later rn i need a break from looking at screens bye

[aplacetosharemyfics]

The Downfall of Susan St. Clair: Everyone has Secrets

Warning: This chapter involves death, abortion, teen pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, heavy drinking (drunk), and suggestions of rape. Please tell me if there are relevant tags that should be added.

Finally, after only six chapters, the main characters actually properly speak to each other.

Mrs. James would return late that night. Truth be told, she returned late most nights. And late didn’t mean sneaking in at 9 pm. Late meant arriving home after Maisie had left for school the next day. The house was large and quiet without her presence.

Maisie pulled her father’s jacket tighter around her torso, feeling the loose jeans around her legs rather than the cool night air. Very little of her father remained in their house, but the cream jacket, worn around the elbows and fraying at the cuffs, had been left behind. It had been an anniversary present many years ago. Maisie remembered the face he made, the way he joked he was going up in the world for even owning such a jacket. But he’d worn it every day until the day when a tear had developed under the right arm. For his birthday, Maisie had snuck the jacket out of his wardrobe to fix, hiding in her bedroom to carefully stitch up the softened fabric. She hadn’t been as apt then, her stitches large and unsightly, but the result was a wearable jacket. It was only a couple of days before his birthday, with the jacket neatly wrapped and hidden in her bedroom, when he left.

An evening stroll had seemed like a good idea. The night sky was clear above her, stars twinkling down at her. Each house she walked past was big enough to hold her house twice, each surrounded by its own garden carefully curated down to a single blade of grass. Through the windows, the walls were decorated with family portraits, couches large enough to sleep on filled the rooms, and families sat together in the warmth, laughing together. Maisie never lingered outside any particular house, content with a single glance before passing by.

She had a plan for when she was older, for the house she was going to live in. It wasn’t going to be too big as extra space only meant more cleaning to do. Carpet would line the floor, thick enough that your foot sank in, and lying down felt cushioned. The rooms would change and develop the more she saw through the brightly lit windows. For a while she’d been sure of soft cotton curtains until she saw a movie where the heroine hid in thick velvet curtains, wrapping the heavy fabric around her. But with all her imagining, the bedrooms were still empty.

The next house was the largest in the area, a massive brick house with warm light flooding out from inside. Maisie had always wanted to see what was inside, envisioning gold trimmings and butlers at every corner. It was the closest she got to nobility.

She’d paused for a second, just long enough to take in the whole house, when the front door burst open. Maisie recognized the gang of girls who’d been the talk of the school since the school term started. They rushed by her, jumping into the T-Bird’s car before disappearing into the night, their laughter being the last thing to leave. The front door was left open. This was her chance to finally see what was inside. And, she reasoned, they were unlikely to be leaving in such a manner if something hadn’t happened inside.

The entrance hall was massive, a staircase curving around the walls leading upstairs. It wasn’t all gold plating and fancy servants, but it still made Maisie’s mouth fall open. Remembering her manners, she timidly knocked on the door. To be honest, she’d expected the house to be empty. But instantly, a girl appeared from the next room over and threw herself into Maisie’s arms. Fumbling, Maisie had barely enough time to react before Dot sunk into her arms like a cannonball, pressing her head into Maisie’s chest.

“No one wanted to kiss me,” she whimpered.

As Maisie panicked – because what else do you do in such a situation – other girls started to appear in similar states of intoxication. Maisie recognised the Soc girls, the same girls who Dot had invited to her party earlier that day. They leaned on the door frame – or any other solid-ish object – to keep themselves upright, arguing loudly about who the best kisser was amongst the boys, their words slurred. This was the epic party, Maisie realised. Like everyone else, she’d imagined what happened at the Soc’s parties. She hadn’t imagined getting drunk and inviting your nemesis.

Gently lowering Dot to the ground, where she curled up into a little puddle of tears, she shut the front door before venturing further into the house. It wasn’t just the girls who’d been invited. She’d seen an invitation in Buddy’s hand as he talked with Susan. Each part of the house seemed more lavish than the last, but Maisie wasn’t paying attention to that anymore. A wooden door, the handle expertly tied shut with a curtain cord, caught her attention. Thankfully, before she decided whether it was a good idea to release whatever (or whoever) was locked down there, the question answered itself. Monstrous thumping came from the other side.

“Please, let us out!”

“We promise not to spike drinks anymore.”

“Please, we can’t hold it in any longer.”

Leaving the boys in whatever state they’d gotten themselves into, Maisie quickly searched the remaining rooms until she found the party room, still complete with a punch bowl. The smell hit her as she entered, a sickly-sweet stench of pineapple. Getting closer only made the smell worse, and there was very little chance of smelling the added alcohol. She was searching the surroundings for a bottle or similar when someone spoke behind her.

“Maisie?”

The sound of the voice calling her name made her heart jump. In all the mystery and adrenaline, Maisie had forgotten who else had been invited to the party. Wheeling round, she found Susan leaning against the doorway, a soft smile on her face. The room was silent. Pushing herself off the frame, Susan sauntered forwards, momentum barely keeping her on her feet. She must have partaken of the spiked punch as well. Maisie remained frozen, limbs refusing to move, as Susan approached. When she was close enough, Susan placed her hands on Maisie’s shoulders, swaying slightly as she looked into her eyes.

“I’m so glad you could make it.”

She pulled Maisie into a hug, wrapping her arms around her torso and burying her head into her shoulder.

Maisie’s mother had often told her that people become more truthful when they were drunk. Maisie slowly raised her hand to stroke Susan’s head, feeling the soft hair under her fingers. What was she going to do?

For hours – it seemed – they stood in that room, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Susan?”

Maisie’s legs were starting to shake from supporting the two bodies.

“Susan?”

Awkwardly reaching up, she shifted Susan’s head. The girl had fallen asleep in her arms. Sighing in relief, she moved Susan – half dragging, half carrying – to a nearby couch. Freed from the weight, she remembered the other girls. Hurrying through the house, she took the long route to avoid the locked door. Leant against the wall, or slumped on the floor, the other girls had all passed out. Apart from Dot, who was still sitting in front of the door, sobbing.

“Dot?”

Maisie carefully stepped over the unconscious bodies and crouched down beside her, arranging her face into a comforting expression. The girl snuffled, stopping crying to look up at her. Her eyebrows slowly scrunched together.

“Who?”

Maisie sighed, relieved that Dot seemed a little more coherent than earlier. She glanced over at the other girls, drawing Dot’s attention to them.

“Everyone’s gone to sleep,” she explained, speaking softly. “Can they stay over?”

Dot’s lower lip trembled as she nodded.

“It was supposed to be a sleepover,” she whimpered. “I prepared popcorn.”

“Can you help me get them to bed?”

Dot nodded, clambering to her feet. Maisie could have probably moved the girls by herself, but she didn’t want any of them waking up and causing a riot when they didn’t recognise her. Also, she didn’t know where the bedrooms were in this goliath of a house. Thankfully, Dot was fairly stable on her feet, and together they started moving the girls. None of the girls woke up as they transported (dragged) them through the house and deposited them into one of the many bedrooms available. Dot kept surprising Maisie by opening yet another door to a bedroom, so many that she wondered if there were any rooms that weren’t bedrooms. After the last girl, Dot collapsed onto the bed beside her, snuggling up beside her on top of the covers.

“Dot?”

Maisie tried shaking the girl’s shoulder, but she was already fast asleep, little snores coming from her mouth. Finding another blanket, she carefully wrapped it around Dot’s shoulders, before stepping back to look at the scene. Just this morning she couldn’t even ask them to move so she could reach her locker. And now she was putting them to bed. It felt surreal.

Wandering back through the house, Maisie finally allowed herself to take in her ornate surroundings. The grand staircase curled around the walls, its wood barrister smooth to the touch. A curved doorway led through to the living room, softening the passage between the two spaces. Framing the fireplace, a bookcase had been built into the wall, featuring an extensive collection of leatherbound books.

Maisie stopped. Susan had woken up.

To be honest, she’d almost forgotten about her. A passing thought which had been dismissed when she remembered the couch larger than Maisie’s bed that she’d laid her on. But now Susan’s eyes were open, and they watched her as she stood, shocked, in the doorway.

“What happened?”

Maisie didn’t move. Susan wasn’t just awake.

“The drinks were spiked.”

Susan frowned and tried to sit up. The action was surprisingly painful, but she finally managed to get upright, her head throbbing. She was too tired to get angry.

“Was it Jane?”

She was merely asking, not blaming. Things after taking that fateful drink were hazy. Maisie shook her head.

“It was your boys.”

She knew no other way to describe them without insulting Susan as well, and as the T-Birds had been hanging around, she felt the need to clarify. Susan merely nodded, like she’d expected the answer. That didn’t mean she wasn’t angry or disappointed in the boys. But she couldn’t be bothered to deal with those emotions right now.

“Where are they?”

“Locked away.”

Susan raised her eyebrows, the maximum amount of effort she was able to put into being shocked. It was true she couldn’t remember the boys hanging around even before they started drinking the punch. A sickening wave of relief crashed over her as she realised how close she had been to another incident. She couldn’t imagine what her mother would do if it had happened again. Drawing herself out of the thoughts, she turned her attention back to Maisie. She looked out of place amongst the luxury décor.

“Was it you?”

Maisie shook her head.

“I think it was Jane.”

Susan smiled weakly, letting out a dry laugh. It was ironic, to be protected from such an act by Jane Facciano. The girl who famously went all the way. Even after all Susan had done to her…

“I should go,” Maisie muttered, turning to leave.

“Wait!”

Susan leapt off the couch, aiming to grab Maisie’s hand before a stab of pain in her head sent her to her knees. Immediately, Maisie was at her side, intertwining her cold hands with Susan’s. So, in a way, she’d succeeded. Wincing as the pain refused to go away, Susan peeked up at Maisie. It was the same dark eyes, though this time they observed her with worry rather than fear. Somehow it only made them even more beautiful.

“Can you stay with me?”

Maisie bit her lip. The clock on the wall showed an impossibly late time. She wasn’t worried about her mother, but she couldn’t be sure when Dot’s parents were going to return.

“For a bit.”

Carefully, she helped Susan back onto the couch before gingerly sitting down next to her, her hand still wrapped around Susan’s.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Susan whispered, her voice shaking.

Maisie stared at the framed photo of Dot on the wall opposite her. She prayed Susan wouldn’t notice her heartbeat quickening.

“I can’t do it again,” Susan continued. “All those people judging me for something I had no control over.”

Her hand started trembling. Maisie slowly tightened her grip until the tremors stopped.

“I can’t give my mother another thing to lord over my head.”

She paused, turning to look at Maisie. There had never been a chance for her to see her closeup. She looked at the freckles that covered her pale skin, a feature her mother would try to ‘fix’ with makeup, but she couldn’t imagine Maisie without. She observed the faint blush spreading over her cheeks and to her ears. If she truly hated Susan, she wouldn’t have saved her, wouldn’t be sat on this couch gripping her hand hard enough for the fear to melt away.

“I want to trust you.”

Maisie glanced at Susan, their eyes meeting as she took in the words. Wrinkling her eyebrows, she opened her mouth to tell Susan how bad that idea was. But Susan spoke first.

“I went all the way with Buddy.”

She wanted to continue: “unlike Jane”, but this wasn’t about her. It was about Susan. With the truth out there, it was as if a large weight had suddenly left her shoulders. She felt silly for worrying over it for so long. And that was partly because of the shock and worry that Maisie showed, rather than the rejection and disgust she’d feared.

“That’s why we split up.”

She recounted the embarrassed look on his face as he’d approached her the next day, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he refused to look her in the eye. He had apologised, in a way that only Buddy could – rejecting all possible blame – before telling her that he had realised during the sex that he didn’t really love her. And he couldn’t lie to himself and be in a relationship when he didn’t truly love the other person.

“And I got pregnant,” she whispered.

Her mother’s face when she realised that Susan was pregnant, the horror that her precious virgin daughter had done something so dirty, and the careful consideration of whether this could rope Buddy back into her grips. But the thought of the rumours circulating that her daughter was such a slut to have a child in high school shut down any schemes. Susan could remember the horrible feeling each morning, waking up knowing something was growing inside her, proof she was a promiscuous whore.

“We got rid of it without telling Buddy.”

The doctor had been discrete, it was merely a normal check-up on her record, and no one else was told. But she felt the eyes anyway, like everyone knew and were laughing at her, at her perfect little act when they knew what she was really like underneath.

Maisie pulled Susan closer so she could wrap in her a hug. Her movements were stiff and awkward, new to the concept of initiating human touch, but she slowly relaxed as Susan allowed herself to be comforted.

“I killed my sister.”

Susan backed up, the words echoing in her ears.

“Not on purpose,” Maisie quickly reassured.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t enough to make Susan relax.

“We were in the car, my day, me, and her. I’d cut my finger on something, and it was bleeding a lot. I was only seven at the time.”

She spoke as if it had happened in another lifetime.

“I was scared and tried to get my father to look at it, to fix it.”

Maisie let out a dry laugh.

“I thought he could do anything back then. But all I was doing was distracting him. The car ended off the road, my sister ended up dead, and my dad left.”

Susan swallowed. The calm expression on Maisie’s face was scaring her. Slowly, Maisie smiled.

“We both have secrets to hide.”

And Susan finally realised she was no longer thinking about Buddy and the baby. Her breathing had returned to normal; her stomach no longer swam with fictitious children. She looked closer at Maisie and noticed the gleam in her eyes from unsplit tears, the tremble in her hand, the stiffness of the smile. They were the same, hiding their emotions behind layers of masks, though Maisie had had years to construct her walls. Allowing her tears to spill for both of them, Susan reached forwards and took Maisie’s hands in hers, pressing her warm palms against Maisie’s cold skin.

“Thanks.”

[aikoiya]

LoZ - Courage Twins Game

Ya'll, I would actually really like a Zelda game where there are 2 heroes.

Like, Link has a twin sister. Yes, I do mean Linkle, but change the name to Lina or Lara or Lynn or something. Because I really don't like Linkle as a name.

It could be a two-player co-op game, but not like how FSA was a multiplayer where you're essentially playing against each other.

More like It Takes Two, where the better you work together, the better things work overall. With mechanics that facilitates & encourages teamwork. Maybe even having coordinated special attacks like in Kingdom Hearts.

And, maybe they'll bicker sometimes or pester each other.

And maybe they fight differently. Perhaps sister is more long-range or magic-based, while Link is close-range & a heavy hitter? Or maybe if she is a close-range fighter, she's more of a rogue-type who dual-wields daggers or shortswords?

But what I'd especially like to see is Lina/Lara/Lynn actually having literally half of the Triforce of Courage & having been chosen by it just as much as Link was.

We know that a Triforce piece can be broken into pieces from Wind Waker, so why not use that as a plot point here to show that more than one person can be eligible for the role of Hero?

Also, maybe there could be a subplot of the sister feeling a bit inadequate due to her not really being recognized by the people as a hero. Maybe they underestimate her because the legends are always about the Hero?

Maybe the fact that she doesn't have a magical sealing weapon of her own like her brother, also contributes to this? At the same time, it's revealed that while Link is the Master Sword's chosen, the sister is also capable of wielding it, just less effectively due to not being as learned as her brother in the art of the blade if we go with her not being a swordswoman.

Like, she's every bit as skilled & courageous & heroic & helpful as her brother, but due to her being the first woman to be chosen by the Triforce of Courage, she feels a need to prove herself.

Maybe, she wasn't expected, not even by the gods & because of this, they tend to pay more attention to Link.

At the same time, Link is always in her corner & always brings attention to her & always, always includes her.

And she loves & appreciates him for it, but also can't help feeling slightly jealous of him.

Maybe she's the extrovert to Link's introvert? (Essentially doubling as his companion & mouthpiece.)

Or, if we wanna really drum up the emotion. Maybe she wasn't chosen by the Triforce to begin with. Maybe that didn't matter to her & she's on this adventure because that's her effing brother! They shared a damn womb! Like hell, she's gonna let him risk life & limb without her! And maybe people keep encouraging her to go home where it's safe. Even the really important characters & even though she's feeling down on herself, that's the one thing she isn't about to do! Maybe she has to go through similar trials to Wind in order to get the gods to recognize her as being worthy?

And maybe, at the end of their journey, she's come to expect being forgotten about or dismissed, only for Hylia (or at least her bunshin) to recognize her as a Heroine of the Triforce which honestly surprises her.

LoZ General Masterlist

[f-adan]

Updates to the design and history of my Sombra Lunar OC

(Old version of my Sombra Lunar OC)

I recently made updates to the armor design of my Sombra Lunar character, it was something I wanted to do for a long time

I started with the helmet, what I try to keep is that the visor looks like a half moon, and I am between adding more details and no, this is what I have for now

Next a preview to the "bracelets"? , (I don't know if they have another name) from the Sombra Lunar armor

Basing myself a bit on artie_stico's interpretation, (X's profile, formerly Twitter), of a commission that I asked him for a long time ago

Part of the design is that apart from having a "mini-machine gun" and it could also deploy a "laser dagger" or just a dagger*

For the skin update I would remove that weapon option and just leave the mini-machine guns, this because I want him to use a type of bladed weapon, so I'm considering giving him a pair of sai or a katana or both.

*This information can be consulted in the old profile of Sombra Lunar, before ´´Sombra Shorai´´), in DA - https://www.deviantart.com/f-adan/art/NDC-Sombra-Shorai-661360984

Continuing with the update of Sombra Lunar's armor, I move on to what I consider one of the most remarkable elements of its design, its skates.

(Also based on artie_stico's interpretation of a commission that I asked him for a long time ago)

Following the Sombra Lunar armor update, the rest of what covers his body, this is where there were a little more changes

Starting with the fact that I had to redesign his shield, his emblem

An element that I always missed to include in her original design is that of a mini jetpack, (with crescent-shaped wings (? ), she doesn't fly, she only uses them to make big jumps and then glide between buildings, the other thing is to use her propeller to gain more speed

Almost finishing the Sombra Lunar armor skin update

Beneath her armor, she wears full-body black metal mail for protection

Sai or katana or both?

She knows that she can't always depend on her technology, so now she carries a pair of sai just in case, although originally I wanted to give her a katana, (for her feud and rematch against Queen, an artie_stico OC), but I started to think in the sai because they are non-lethal weapons, (she does not seek to do damage but they would be useful as a defense), although I am leaning towards using both

Another change that I made to her was her hair style, she was not very satisfied so it is a combination of her first design and the previous one

Mask?, after a confrontation with Queen, (OC of artie_stico), her helmet was destroyed so her identity was revealed, she uses it in case she repeats herself

Now that the armor design update has been completed

I present to you Mitsuki Sánchez, alias "Sombra Lunar", "The Midnight Heroine"

"From the dark side, the moonlight will guide me"

And to finish this update I also did a review of his story with some changes since his debut in DA as Sombra Shorai, then the origin story of Sombra Lunar

Mitsuki Sánchez was born and raised in Japan, to a Mexican father and a Japanese mother. Her childhood was a bit difficult since her parents had different expectations for her future. Her father wanted her to focus on sports while her mom in science

For what Mitsuki from a very young age learned the disciplines of gymnastics and skating from her father and computer science and robotics from her mother, it was a stress for her because she only wanted to make her parents happy, (because they were always arguing)

She reached her limit and when she turned 15 she decided to dedicate herself to robotics. Her father, disappointed in her and starting the divorce proceedings, decided to go back to Mexico once and for all and leave them.

After that, she had a time of peace with her mother, getting her degree in robotics engineering and going to work for one of the most important companies in that field, and over time she would meet an attractive young man who would become a couple and they would commit

But deep down, something was bothering her and she felt that she had to make peace with her father before getting married, so she decided to go to Mexico with her boyfriend to look for her father… The last thing she knew about him was that he had an old farm and went there to look for him

When they got there they were intercepted by organized crime, his father had made a deal with them and had not fulfilled his part and due to their misfortune they coincided when they went looking for him to settle accounts … they eliminated his father and took his father hostage she and her boyfriend … tried to extort money from the embassy, their families and the company where she worked … there was no response… they eliminated her boyfriend in front of her as a warning that they were serious … there was no response either ... instead of eliminating her too, one of those bastards came up with the idea of using her for their dastardly business … she was enslaved … she spent years living like this … until an enemy group of those criminals attacked them and in the midst of the confusion they managed to escape

Hurt, confused and in a country she doesn't know she was lost and her only means of survival was theft, she spent months like that until she was arrested, if it weren't for a police officer they would have sent her to jail, so only her They deported them back, but ... Everything in their home had changed forever ... their mother had passed away from the impact of her kidnapping and the rest of her family did not know her because of her inheritance ... also the same in the company where he worked … they ignored it to keep his inventions and patents

Completely alone and abandoned, she robbed again, but not only to survive, but to gather resources to take revenge on that company, little by little she began to steal technology to improve her thefts and attacking that company from the shadows … That was his plan but during one of his robberies, during his escape he observed that in an alley there was a woman being attacked, how a burst passed through his mind for all that he had suffered when he was deprived of his liberty and without hesitating he rescued her

Since that night, she swore that no person would have to go through what she went through, so she became a night watchman

Thank you very much for your time for reading this blog and getting here, if you give me a chance I will continue to introduce my OCs with you and in the near future I will publish more stories about them, thanks again and have a great night

[athirstygoblin]

How We Are

The Blight is over, and celebrations have emerged in honour of Ferelden’s brave heroine. Including in the Alienage, her home. An exhausted Mara slipped away from the celebrations, overwhelmed after all that happened. But a welcomed visitor decided to slip away with her as well.

Aka: Month one of the Year of the OTP event hosted by @yearoftheotpevent.

Prompt: "Whenever I look at you..."

Fandom: Dragon Age

Ship: Female Warden Tabris x Leliana

Word Count: 642

Warnings: Mentions of death and sexual themes.

Also on AO3

Mara’s bed was just like she remembered it. Not the most ideal for sleeping- hard, and mostly unsuited for cold winter days in Ferelden. But it’s the bed she had slept on almost her entire life prior to joining the Grey Wardens. It was familiar, as was the rest of the run down home she shared with her father and cousin, and that was comforting enough.

The celebrations had quietened down in Denerim, but not in the Alienage. Throughout the worn streets people were dancing, drinking, eating, and taking pride in their tight knit community. Though they had little, they made the most of what they did have, as they celebrated Ferelden’s Hero and their new Bann, who was one of their own. It was what Mara loved about the Alienage, but she had oddly enough been unable to enjoy the celebrations. Exhaustion had set in from previous events she had to attend, and she had to step away from her family and some of the elders doting on her. Not even the idea of drinking with Shianni was as enticing for her. She just needed some time. Time to rest, to think about what happened, to…

The creaking of the front door interrupted Mara’s thoughts, and she jumped to her feet. The words “Go away, I just need to be alone” were prepared in her mind, but she relaxed as she saw the familiar red hair of the figure emerging.

“There you are.” Leliana closed the door behind her. “I saw that you had slipped away from the celebrations. Your family had been asking about you.”

“Nothing escapes you, huh?” Mara noted. Leliana’s skills as a bard certainly came in handy this time around.

Leliana smiled softly as she cupped Mara’s face in her hands and lightly kissed her on the lips, Mara melting into her lover’s touch.  “Is something troubling you, my love?” Leliana asked with a worried crease in her brows. “This is unlike you.”

“What do you mean?” Mara chuckled, albeit nervously. “The Blight is over, and no darkspawn nearby. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Leliana raised an eyebrown, not falling for Mara’s words. The bard was right. Mara usually enjoyed celebrations like this. Freeing the Dalish from their curse to recruiting Orzammar’s dwarves in their battle against the blight, she had shown she didn’t mind staying around, even for a few moments, just to revel in the victory this was for her.

Mara sat down on the bed, promptly followed by Leliana.

“I’m still in shock, really,” Mara admitted. “I didn’t know what to expect when we reached Fort Draken.” She didn’t want to think about the grueling sensation when she brought the blade down for the killing blow. How she watched so many good people die, even elves she knew and grew up with from the Alienage, defending their home. How the only reason she is still alive was because of this… ritual Alistair and Morrigan had to perform. It made her sick to her stomach thinking about how she had to force him into it.

Brought back to reality by the touch of a hand, Mara’s deep brown eyes met Leliana’s soft blue eyes.

“Remember how I told you how much I trusted you?” Leliana asked. “How safe I felt with you.”

Confused, Mara nodded which prompted Leliana to continue.

“That has not changed, Mara,” Leliana’s free hand moved to cup Mara’s cheek. “You’re a hero. To Ferelden, to Thedas… to me. You’ve inspiring so many people, my love. I’ve never been so proud to stand by anyone else’s side.”

“You flatter me.”

“I mean it.” There was a sincerity to Leliana’s voice that only she had. The bard always had a way with words, yet it’s easy to tell when she’s honest and true. “When I look at you, I know anything is possible.”

[code-elite]

The Freedom Saga - A Price For Freedom

Issue #1

The Downfall

Starting:

Miss Freedom

Pandora Gold

The Masked Man

Mandy Saint

For several years, the first superheroine, Miss Freedom, has protected the people of earth from criminals of all walks of life. Never suffering a loss or faced a challenge she couldn't overcome. That was until her path came across Pandora Gold. A villainous woman motivated by greed and power. A devious planner who saw Miss Freedom as an obstacle in her way fortune. Her plan was simple in concept but difficult in execution. Taking her time to set the trap and find the perfect bait. Mandy Saint, a reporter for iNews. Someone who was seen as innocent by the public and notable enough to get the attention of Miss Freedom.

This golden plan of Pandora's required some extra hands. The main hands are those of a mysterious character, only known as The Masked Man. No one knows who he is or where he came from, but he always gets the job done. His silence and baby doll like mask would send a chill down anyone's spine. He'll be the face of the trap, adding more attraction to the crime. Making it even more likely for Miss Freedom to save the day. It'll be too irresistible for her to ignore.

Miss Freedom had just stopped a medical heist in Blade City when she heard that iNews reporter Mandy Saint was kidnapped by a masked man. She rushed over to iCity to speak with the police who responded. She learns that Ms. Saint had her press badge on, which has a tracker in it. It looks like she was being held in a large wearhouse that was abandoned some years back. A confident Freedom tells the police, "Let me handle this. Who knows what this kidnapper wants or is capable of. I will take him down and call you in to take him jail." She runs off without giving the police a chance to respond.

Miss Freedom walks into the wearhouse with no fear. Hands on her hips. The room is poorly lite. Mandy Saint was tied to a chair unconscious. The Masked Man pacing behind her until he saw the superheroine approaching. He stood in front of Saint, opening his arms as if he was welcoming her. She just smiled at him and delivered a uppercut, sending him off his feet.

Miss Freedom:

This party blows. I think the lady and I can find something a little less street trash.

Freedom is untying Saint as she feels a pinch on her butt. Slightly annoyed, she turned around expecting the Masked Man but was surprised to see this beautiful dark-haired woman in a black catsuit.

Miss Freedom:

Oh! And w.. who might you be?

Pandora proudly holds an empty syringe.

Miss Freedom:

What..um..what did you d..d..do to me?

Pandora smiles deviously while looking at the heroine up and down.

Pandora Gold:

So you are the famous Miss Freedom? The first ever superheroine! So blonde. So pretty. I bet that rack makes you popular with the boys.

Miss Freedom (cinfident):

Yes, we all know who I am. Maybe you'd like an autograph? Who should I make it out to?

Pandora Gold (giggling while playing with a syringe) :

I forgot that you were cute. My name is Pandora Gold. I think that I'll call myself the first super criminal. What do you think?"

Freedom smiles amusingly.

Pandora Gold:

This little syringe was filled with a chemical that affects your equilibrium or so, I am told. It was gold and pretty just like me. I guess I'm inside you in a way, but that's just a bit of foreshadowing. Because you see my dear beautiful blonde bimbo, I'm going to become famous just like you. I am going to do what no one has her done. Giving the first superheroine her first defeat. It's not even Christmas, I know, but everyone lobes gifts. I am going to humble you.

She snaps her fingers as the lights in the building become brighter. Revealing thugs and cameramen. The masked man is also on his feet.

Pandora Gold:

I'm recording everything. Afterward, I'll sell copies to the black market. Every news station around the globe will be showing clips of how their great protector was beaten, used like a local sex worker, and submitted to the queen baddie. Ooh! I like that name. Yes, you will be disgraced. An example of what will happen to any do gooder that stands in my way. Meanwhile, I'll be notorious! The woman that took Miss Freedom down. No one to stop me from getting what I deserve.

Miss Freedom (unimpressed expression):

You talk too much.

She swings her leg around slapping her foot across Pandora's face. She retaliates by jumping the syringe in Freedom's shoulder. Grunting through the pain, ripping the syringe out, and tossing it aside. Blood oozing from her wound. She tries another kick, but Pandora easily dodges it. She rears back for a punch, but Pandora swiftly kicks her between the legs. Freedom immediately holds herself, stumbling back in a debilitating pain she's never felt before.

Whatever was in that syringe had indeed affected her equilibrium. Her strength and speed seem to have also been affected. On top of that, the low blow seems to be a weakness Miss Freedom was never aware of. Pandora grabs Mandy Saint, dragging her off to the side so they can both witness the downfall. She grabs a bowl of popcorn as she sits down.

Pandora Gold:

Put on a good show, Miss Freedom.

The thugs surround Miss Freedom. She's able to fend off the men at first as they come at her one by one. In her current state, she's unable to knock out these men, so they keep coming. As the circle of goons around Freedom tightens the attacks come stop coming one at a time. Holding her arms and wrapping themselves around her waist. Slowing Freedom's response time even more as the thugs are able to punch after punch. To her face. To her stomach. In the corner of her eye, she sees the Masked Man approaching her. She desperately struggles managing to throw off the goons, holding her in time to throw a punch at The Masked Man. Her blow doesn't land as it is caught by her foe. He twisted her arm behind her back into a hammer lock position. Her cries of pain intensify as the man unleashes a series of punches to her kidneys.

Pandora seems pleased as she places the popcorn bowl in Mandy Mandy's lap.

Pandora Gold:

Hold this, would you doll?

Rises to her feet, pulling a blade from her cleavage. Confidently walking over to Miss Freedom. The Masked Man holds her other arm as Gold nears them. Running her free hand over Freedom's chest. Her eyes fixated them symbol on her chest.

Pandora Gold:

This is the symbol of freedom? One that gives people hope.

Freedom feels a shape pain suddenly in her ribs. Pandora pulls her blade from the wound.

Pandora Gold:

I'm no doctor, but I think all that blood lost is bad for you.

She smirks to herself as Freedom grows in pain. Grabbing freedom costume around the collar and proceeds to cut into it. Around the symbol and remove it, exposing Freedom's bare chest. Freedom cries out "NO" as Pandora is ecstatic.

Pandora Gold:

Oh my God! No bra? Me too!

Pandora quickly puts her blade into her belt and shoves the Miss Freedom symbol to the side of her belt. Unzips her catsuit and pulls the top apart, flashing Freedom her breast.

Pandora Gold:

See!? It's so freeing. Do you call yours little freedoms? They aren't exactly small.

She puts her goodies away and zips up her suit. She smiles at Freedom before kicking her between the legs once more. Freedom wants to fall down but is being held up by The Masked Man. Pandora ribs the blue costume down to Freedom's bellybutton. Placing her hand down the front of Freedom's suit. Reaching down to her groin. Giggles to herself as she slowly rubs Freedom's cunt.

Freedom still crying from her painful wounds and humiliation of her breast being exposed and her symbol tarnish. She feels a unusual sense of pleasure at the touch of Pandora's hand on her privates. Unaware some of her moans of pain sound awfully pleasurable. Pandora noticed and moves close. Letting her fingers slip in and out of her pussy. Whispering softly in Miss Freedom's ear.

Pandora Gold:

You have given the world your blood, sweat, and tears. Tonight, you are going to give me more. You are going to give me your mind, body, and spirit. Your pussy belongs to me. Soon, you are going to submit to me. You will cum for me. You're halfway there now, and we're just getting started.

Pandora locks lips with Freedom. Freedom offered little resistance and kissed back. Freedom couldn't explain it to herself. Pandora walks back to her seat. Watching as The Masked Man lets her fall to the ground. Holding her wounded ribs sobbing quietly.

Pandora Gold (speaking loud and clear):

Miss Freedom. I'm going to offer you a choice. You can leave now. I'll even let you take this reporter with you. I'll still sell the video, but at least you got away, right? Ran away like a coward, but still no shame in a tactical retreat, right? Save yourself and fight another day. If you stay and fight, I can promise you that if you win, I'll destroy all the footage. Smart coward or heroic idiot? I know what you'll choose but I thought I would give you the freedom of choice.

Miss Freedom sniffles and winced in pain as she forces herself to her feet. Pandora snaking at her. She looks around the building. Seeing half a dozen thugs. 4 cameramen. The Masked Man seemingly stared at her. Pandora Gold standing beside a bound Mandy Saint. She gazes at the exit for a long minute or two. If she runs, the public would understand. She needed to save herself so she could take them down later. Some would see her as a coward, but the video would show it was a trap and that she fought as much as possible. That's not what Miss Freedom does, though. She always stands and fights. She always finds a way to win. Even if this is her end, she'll go down fighting. She turns her gaze to Pandora Gold. Placing her hands on her hips. Chest out and proud.

Miss Freedom:

I am Miss Freedom. The world's first superheroine. Guardian of the meek. Champion of the mighty. Princess of virtue. I never give up. I never run away. I will stand and fight until the bitter end. You are a vile villainess Pandora Gold. You will not win."

Pandora Gold (mocking claps):

Bravo. That is so going on a t-shirt. Great boobs by the way.

She leans over the reporter, releasing her binds. Speaking directly to her but keeping a cocky gaze at Miss Freedom.

Pandora Gold:

I have no further use for you. You're free to go. You're welcome to stay and watch the downfall of Miss Freedom.

Pandora Gold (smirking):

I would keep away from the men. They are itching for some action if you catch my drift.

Mandy just sits there looking on, unsure of where to go. Meanwhile, Pandora mimics Miss Freedom's pose and voice.

Pandora Gold:

I'm Pandora Gold. The world's first super criminal. Queen of all that is bad. Conquer of heroines. Taker of virtue. Miss Freedom, you are super lame and that pussy belongs to me. Now bow down to your queen.

Miss Freedom (amused):

I bow down to no one. Now come here so I can kick your ass."

Pandora Gold (disappointing sign):

Gosh. You're no fun. Besides, the fellas want some action with you.

The men surround her. She's weakened from the drug and blood lost, but she's feeling an adrenaline rush. Quickly kicking and punching any goon near her. She was fighting back and winning. Pandora was starting to become concerned when The Masked Man punched Freedom in the back of her head. Suddenly, she was out on her feet, unable to defend herself. The Masked Man and the thugs took turns punching her. Sending her walking into a blow each time. Pandora catches, brushing the hair from her face before punching right between the eyes. Knocking Freedom out. Falling to the floor.

Pandora cackles with evil laughter as she kneels down and slowly removes her boots. Pandora runs her hands across the heroines unconscious body. Straddling one leg as she kisses and squeezes Freedom's breast. Sliding her hand inside the suit again finding Freedom's pussy. Immediately pushing her fingers inside and curving them. Pushing deep. Miss Freedom regains consciousness but is in a state of confusion. Not fully ware of what is happening other than this pleasurable sensation. She holds Pandora close who's grinding her pussy on Freedom's leg. She kisses her chest up to her neck when she starts sucking on it and finger fucks her faster. Freedom's moan of pleasure ego as she's unaware everyone is watching. Within minutes she cums and in the moment kisses Pandora. They continue kissing until Freedom realizes where she is again and pushes her off. Holds her ribs as she tries to stand.

Pandora Gold:

Your body betrays you, princess of vitrue. I do think you might like like me.

Pandora makes a dramatic face and kisses her cheek before strutting to her seat.

Pandora Gold:

It's best you surrender now because The Masked Man isn't as sweet as me. He's probably not as pretty, either.

The Masked Man grabs freedom from behind. Trapping her arms by her side, squeezing her tight. Forcing more blood to pump out her side as air is unable to get in her lungs. Her body goes limp in his arms as she loses couscousness once again. He let's her body lean against his. Releasing his grip and cups, her breast. Pandora shoots him a dirty look as she eats some popcorn. The Masked Man takes notice and lifts Miss Freedom in his arms, carrying her to a table the thugs had prepared. He lays her on her back across the table. Cameramen walk up, getting close-up shots of her body. She starts to stir again, and the men scatter.

Miss Freedom is extremely weakened as she slowly sits up on the table. Holding her ribs, she can feel how soaked her suit is from blood loss. Looking up, she sees Pandora motioning toward her. She's barely able to stand, but she puts on a brave face as she walks over.

Pandora Gold:

You look tired. Maybe you should call it quites or else your boyfriend here is going to fuck you like he hates you. I genuinely do not know what he thinks. However, if you must. I will give you a free shot. Come on, princess. Hurt me.

She's not able to deliver a kick without possibly falling over. So she pulls back her fist and punches Pandora with what strength she has left. Pandora's head snaps sideways but holds her ground. Smiling at what had to be Freedom's last best shot. She returns the favor with a right cross to Freedom's jaw. Sending her spinning. Catching herself on the table. She fights, getting back to her feet. Pandora tries for another cross but is caught. Freedom still has a fight on her left. Pandora kicks her in the bloody ribs, and Freedom grabs her side, crying out. She clasped hers together and hammers them down on the shoulder wound. Pandora laughs with glee as Miss Freedom yells in pain. Struggling to stay on her feet. Pandora positions herself behind Freedom and kicks her in the pussy and she goes down holding herself.

Pandora gestures at the Masked Man who immediately picks Freedom up and holding her by her arms from behind.

Pandora Gold:

It's over Miss Freedom. You're finished. You can barely function. Admit defeat, and things will get better for you.

Pandora is taking the time to feel and squeez Freedom's breast. Freedom looking exhausted glances up at Pandora.

Miss Freedom:

You win.

Pandora Gold:

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Pandora leans up, kissing the side of her neck. She struggles with her words.

Miss Freedom:

You.. win...

The words cut as they leave her mouth. She knows she is defeated but doesn't want to admit it. Her physical wounds haven't been able to start healing themselves as her body is still under the influence of whatever chemical that was injected into her. To make matters worse, she feels a sensation whenever Pandora is touching her. She questions herself and wonders if it was the chemical making her feel this.

Pandora can sense Miss Freedom has already given in, but it's a matter of making her admit it now.

Pandora Gold:

Poor Miss Freedom. You know you are beaten, but you just can't admit it, can you?

She kisses her lips as if saying goodbye. The heroine is far too weak to either resist or reciprocate. She points to two thugs.

Pandora Gold:

You two with me. The rest of you, please make this poor girl talk.

The 4 thugs take turns punching and groping the helpless heroine who can only cry out. Striking her ribs, stomach, breast, pussy, and her face. They continue til they knock her out. Her body slumps over only held up by The Masked Man who is still holding her arms. He nods to the thugs who start taking their cocks out. One of them starts slapping her until she wakes up. She's shocked and appalled at the sight of these men standing with their cocks out stroking them.

Miss Freedom (weak and fearful):

What are you doing?

The men just laugh as she's tossed to the ground between them. A horrifying look falls on her face as the thugs start kneeling down towards her. Meanwhile, Mandy Saint looks on in shock and awe on the outside. Inside, she was enjoying what she saw. Pandora Gold and 2 thugs walked over to where she was seated. One of the men complaining.

Thug #1:

I thought we all were getting in on the action.

Pandora Gold:

Oh, but you're going to get some action.

Pandora pulls her blade out and quickly turns around, throwing it at the thug who was complaining. The blade impales his throat, and he falls to the floor. Choking as he slowly dies.

Pandora Gold:

Shit! "I was aiming for his shoulder. No matter."

She pulls the blade out of the dying man and uses his shirt to clean her blade. Looks back to see Miss Freedom being spit roasted and forced to jerk off the other two thugs. She smiles and looks at Mandy watching.

Pandora Gold:

Hey. The kidnapped girl is still here. I thought you disappeared. Do me a favor, would you? Take care of this low life, or else you can join Mr. Complaining man down here.

Mandy Saint:

"Oh. Uh. Yes, ma'am. Whatever you want.

Mandy gets on knees waiting for the thug. Once he walks over, she does all the work. Pulling out his cock stroking it until it stiffens. Then proceeds to suck his cock cheerfully moaning. Only stopping to complement his manhood.

Mandy Saint:

My God, you're so big. I love your cock baby.

Pandora takes her seat as Mandy continues blowing the thug. Shakes her head laughing at her. She unzips her catsuit and puts her hand inside, touching herself. Watching Miss Freedom being fucked by multiple men. Pleasuring herself to the sight and sounds. The heroine's cries for help as another thug cums inside her. The reporter's happy slurping and gagging ringing in her ear.

After the thugs had finished with Miss Freedom, she laid on the floor no moving. Hoping for an end. The cameramen are back for close ups. Her suit and pantyhoes ripped with semen oozing from her pussy. Spit and cum hanging from her mouth and dripped along her chest. Freedom's humiliated face staring into the cameras. These have been masturbating while Freedom was being used by the thugs. They have been saving their release until they could record her as they covered her with their tributes. She closes her eyes crying to herself as she feels the hot, gooey substance falls on her chest, abs, legs, and face.

It's not over as she feels a hand wiping away her tears and semen from her face. She opens her eyes to see it's The Masked Man caressing her face. He helps her to her knees and this is when she notices his cock hanging out.

Miss Freedom (pleading):

Oh no. Please. No more. I'll do anything, really.

Her pleds go unnoticed as he grabs her hair. She let's out a high squeal as she's pulled forward. His long cock forced into her mouth. She doesn't have the strength to fight but waves her arms helplessly. She's gagging on his cock struggling for air. He pulls out for her to catch her breath then fucks her face. Thrusting hard put pulling her head into thrust with just as much force. It's not long before the man reaches his climax. Holding Freedom on his cock as it shoots to back of her throat. Filling her mouth with cum around his cock. Once again struggling for air gagging on his cock and semen. Nearly losing consciousness before being released. She collapses on the ground. Still choking on fresh semen. The Masked Man reaches down, grabbing her skirt and pulling it until it comes off. He uses it to clean his dick and puts it in his pocket as a souvenir.

A the thugs roll out an object covered in a black cloth to the table. Pandora Gold is now standing over the superheroine, who looks like she's been through hell. She grabs her by the throat, lifting her to her feet. She shoves the so-called princess of virtue backward, hitting the table with her ribs. Holding her side instinctively. Pandora backhands her sending Freedom face down on the table. She twist the heroine's cape around her neck and pulls back. Hoping to not be knocked out again, Freedom taps on Gold's hands since she's unable to beg for mercy. It's ignores as she chokes her out.

Pandora reaches into her belt, pulling out a small vial of smelling salt. Waves it under Freedom's nose, who wakes up sore and confused. Gold takes a little whiff for fun before tossing it behind her.

Pandora Gold:

Good morning, Miss Freedom. Now, this is your final chance. Admit defeat. Surrender to me. I will give you the footage, and you can do with it whatever you desire. Only we will know about this. Well, you might need to convince the reporter, but I could always kill her. The alternative is not very pretty. If you are determined, then I will simply bound you. Sell you on the black market where you will be used as a sex doll for men all over this world. One day, you will have no more use to them as you become less attractive and no longer look like the real Miss Freedom. Then you will either be tossed on the streets to slowly die. Or they will snuff you out. So what's it going to be? Bow down to your queen or a life as a male toy thing counting the days til you die?

Miss Freedom looks up at Pandora, exhausted.

Miss Freedom:

Yes. You win. I can't take any more punishment. Please. Have mercy. I. I surrender. No more. Please.

Miss Freedom hangs her head in shame. Unsure of what happens next. Pandora, however, is very pleased with herself. Motioning to one of the goons to grab something.

Pandora Gold:

Crawl to me. Hands and knees. Come to Mommy.

Freedom keeps her head down, sobbing to herself. Getting on her hands and knees, making her way towards the villainess. Stopping once she's reached her feet.

Pandora Gold:

Good girl. Now I want you to say it again. Also kiss me. Starting with my boots.

Her hesitation is brief as she starts kissing her boots. Slowly making her way up Gold's body.

Miss Freedom:

I surrender. You win. I can't take any more.

Pandora pushes her head down to her crotch and Freedom gives it kisses. She could feel it was damped. Almost able to taste her juices. The fallen heroine continues kissing, taking notice of Pandora's catsuit, once again unzipped.

Miss Freedom:

Please have mercy on me. I'll do whatever you want.

Pandora pulls her up, kissing her. Both their tongues swirling in each other's mouths

Before this make-out session gets out of hand, Gold grabs Freedom by her neck, pushing her away from the kiss.

Pandora Gold (gently squeezing Freedom's neck):

Turn around and bend over that table.

Miss Freedom (confused):

But..I surrendered. I admitted my defeat. Please, no more."

She cries out in pain as a punch smacks her ribs.

Pandora Gold:

You've admitted nothing yet. Now do as you are told before, before I knock you out for the 100th time."

Gold angrily shoving Freedom towards the table. She stumbles as she lays chest down, across the table. Pandora walks in front of her, standing next to a large covered object.

Pandora Gold:

It's time to meet your biggest fan.

Her grin grows larger as she removes the cloth revealing a mirror. Miss Freedom stares at herself in the mirror. Seeing the results of all demeaning abused, she's endured. She almost doesn't recognize the woman looking back at her.

Pandora Gold:

Ta-da! It's you! No one loves Miss Freedom more than Miss Freedom. Do other superheroines even like you? I never see you with anyone, really.

She smiles deviously as she walks behind Freedom. Grabbing a strap on from one of the thugs, making adjustments to her attire.

Pandora Gold:

You are going to watch yourself as you admit your failure. You'll see yourself giving in to me. Your ultimate humiliation. The fall and disgrace of Miss Freedom.

Tears stream down her face as she watches herself building up the courage to say something.

Miss Freedom (whimpering):

I.. Oh God. I am Miss Freedom. I have been defeated by Pandora Gold. I surrender to you and. And I beg for mercy. You win.

Pandora's hand caresses her pussy as she takes in a sharp breath.

Pandora Gold (soothing voice):

That's it. Please continue.

Miss Freedom:

Yes...um..my pussy belongs to..Pandora Gold.

Freedom can see herself enjoying being touched by Gold. Biting her bottom lip. Pandora seems very pleased before slamming Freedom's face into the table. Blood starts to fall from her nose, which appears to be broken.

Pandora Gold (mockingly angry):

How can you say that when you allowed these strangers to cum inside your pussy. That's my property.

Miss Freedom (woozy and staggering):

Please. I'm sorry. Don't hurt me. I'm so sorry.

She feels something cold being pushed inside her cunt. A high squeal seems to be pushed out as the object goes inside her. Pandora's hands griped on her hips. Slowly entering and exiting her cunt. Building up speed. Freedom watches herself being fucked by this criminal. She can't deny that she's getting pleasure out of it because she sees herself almost smiling. She can hear the lust in her sounds of moans and squeals. She can feel gratification of feeling Pandora inside pounding her to her climax.

Miss Freedom (shouting):

Oh god, yes! I am cumming!"

Pandora doesn't let up and continues ramming inside Freedom to sounds of moans and squeals of various decimals.

Pandora Gold:

I do believe you are actually liking this, aren't you?

Freedom holding on to the table nods in approval as she nears a 2nd climaxe.

Pandora Gold:

That's good. And do you know why?

She nods again acknowledging Pandora.

Pandora Gold:

I need to hear it. You need to see yourself as you admit it."

Pandora refuses to stop fucking Miss Freedom until she admits it. She can feel her ass banging against Pandora's hips.

Miss Freedom (looking at herself):

Yes! My fucking God yes! My pussy belongs to you. My pussy belongs to Pandora Gold. I am her bitch. Her personal whore.. Oh..Fuck..me..I'm cumming again!

Squealing once more as she climaxes, but this time Pandora pulls out. Freedom slides down to the floor, breathing sharp and rapid. She sees Gold hasn't moved far, so she brings herself to her knees and starts sucking on the dildo. Cleaning it of juices and cum belonging to herself. Perhaps some of the men, but she didn't care in that moment. After she finishes, she sits back on the floor.

The remaining thugs and cameramen start packing up and leaving. The Masked Man had disappeared some time ago. As Pandora grabs an SD stick, she looks at Mandy with amazement.

Pandora Gold:

You're still here, huh? Well, we can drop you off at a bar or something.

She walks back over to the humiliated heroine and tosses her the stick.

Pandora Gold:

It's all yours. To destroy or rewatch for memories.

Miss Freedom holds the SD stick in her hands. Looking at what she thought held her shame. As Pandora enters the van to drive off, she grins wildly and looks back at Freedom.

Pandora Gold:

Oh, Miss Freedom. It might be important, but this entire night was streamed lived on multiple platforms. I knew you were famous but wow were you popular. I think you broke the internet. Enjoy your new career as a slut influencer. Ciao bellaa

She falls into the van, laughing to herself as they driving off. It was now quiet. She looked at the SD stick. Then, to side at herself in the mirror. She pulls herself up, continuing to look at herself. Walking over to the mirror. She was disgusted by her reflection. She screams from the bottom of her diaphragm and punches the mirror. It shatters and slices her hand. Miss Freedom hangs head and starts making her walk home. As she gets to the doorway, she collapses. Several minutes later, a dark-haired woman wearing a gold swimsuit like attire along with Greek looking skirt, gauntlets, and footwear. She kneeled beside Miss Freedom. Placing her hands against her bloody ribs. Golden lights appear around her hands and fade as Freedom starts breathing normally. When she removed her hands, the wound had healed. She brushes Freedom's hair back and kisses her head.

Athena:

Your fight is not over child.

[kurishiri]

24 . . . alfons main story — blind love

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: violence and death.

—— Alfons’ POV ——

(Were I to die here, I could prevent yet another tragedy.)

But then, Kate’s face, so red as she pushed my back, popped into my mind.

(But, something like the heroine of a tragedy...)

(...hardly suits someone such as herself.)

If I were to disappear here——

I reckoned she would meet somebody whom she could love, and be loved, to the fullest, and reach for happiness.

And then, when she met her time, she would be surrounded by family, and with the memories she made with people who have loved her in her heart, she would close her eyes.

It would be a trite ending, one filled with warmth and peace that could never possibly become a play acted out upon the stage.

(When I think about how you’ll forget me, and someday meet that sort of ending...)

(To the point nothing else could hold a candle to it——)

Alfons: ——I can’t even bear the thought of such a thing happening.

Lord Goa: ...What?

(No matter how much we loved each other, were I to lose my life here, at this very moment——)

(Those happy days would become an illusion, and she would succumb to despair.)

I knew that, and yet I still wanted to leave my mark on her.

One so deep, it could never disappear.

(With this happiness, so dangerous it could someday turn into despair——)

(I want to drive your life to the brink of madness.)

At some point, beyond what I had expected, I had found myself wishing strongly for such a thing.

The desire to inflict wounds was a far cry from feelings like kindness and affection,

——For now, at least, perhaps calling it ‘love’ may suffice.

Alfons: Goodness gracious... Miss Kate, the things you do to me,

A: making me carry this hassle of a burden... I will have to see to it that you take full responsibility for this.

A: Would you not agree?

Lord Goa: ...What you’re saying is beyond me. Are you sure you haven’t gone crazy?

Alfons: Oh, hardly. At the very least, between the two of us I am the lesser crazy one.

Reading my opponent’s moves, the moment I blinked, I unconsciously drew out my saber.

With the dance steps taught by the instructors at the Greetia household, I maneuvered around behind him.

Lord Goa: ...!

While in a state of confusion, the cold blade was already against the elder’s throat.

And the guards, afraid to hit their patron, were unable to pull the trigger, instead simply pointing their guns this way.

(Yes, that’s right, what good boys you are.)

His own fate was on a thin line,

Lord Goa spoke, seemingly to finally realize that he was being tried for judgment.

Lord Goa: ...W-what do you want from me... just... spit it out...

Alfons: Ahha! I’m sure you are well aware we are an assassination organization, no?

A: And when a member of such a group goes out of their way to come meet you, what else would they want——but your life?

Lord Goa: ...!?

(I didn’t pull out my saber just to egg them on to attack at this point.)

But as it would seem——

For just a little bit longer, I wanted to act out this commonplace tragedy, no matter when and where it ended.

—— Time skip ——

Elbert: ...Good work, Al.

Roger: Jeez... you didn’t hold back at all again, did you?

Alfons: I got a tad carried away, hence this messy killing scene.

Five minutes later, Elbert and Roger opened the door, to be met with several men who now looked more like lumps of flesh collapsed on the ground.

In the center was a single elder——Lord Goa was looking upward, an unnatural excitement riddling his expression,

and Alfons looked on at the scene with amusement.

Roger: And what about him? Why didn’t you kill him?

Roger chinpointed at Lord Goa, who had lost every ounce of sanity.

Alfons: Well, see, isn’t just killing him and calling it the end of that nothing short of a bore?

A: I made sure this was allowed as well, ‘as long as the organization ultimately met their downfall...’

A: So, I figured if that was the case, why not spend the rest of life mad?

Lord Goa: The cosmic god has manifested! We are all mere slaves to it.

Lord Goa: That’s why a sacrifice was necessary... yes, that’s right, I must let everyone else know!

Lord Goa didn’t even spare Alfons and the others a glance as he bolted out of the room, his expression filled with madness.

Roger: What in the world did you input in that guy...

Alfons: “The massacres in the East End is a ceremony to offer sacrifices to the cosmic god,”

A: “And the fact that you perpetrated it is an honor praised by all of mankind, who are slaves to this god.”

A: “Thereafter you must announce to the rest of the attendees of the dinner party this truth!”

With theatrical gestures as though he were in a play, Alfons recited the illusion he had shown Lord Goa.

Roger: I see now... so while making him confess to the string of incidents, you wanted to make the others involved think the old man’s gone bonkers.

Elbert: ...And if they see that, the lesser congressmen who were faithful followers will cut ties.

Roger: The old man’ll probably find himself behind bars or at a psych ward.

R: Even if the members of the ‘purification’ club wanted to continue what they were doing,

R: If they are regarded as that old man’s followers, it would get in the way. ...So they’ve got no choice but to lay low, basically.

Alfons: That’s the gist, yes.

Roger: That said, you can really spin these wild horror narratives, huh?

Alfons: Like the back of my hand, indeed.

Alfons’ smile deepened, his hand on his chest.

Roger: Well, glad you’re safe and sound.

Alfons: I hope you can accept my sincere apologies for having stolen your job though.

Roger: Nah, it’s no big deal. I was able to hear something good myself.

Alfons: And what might that ‘good’ something be?

Roger: That you thought of me as a ‘skilled doctor,’ yeah?

Alfons: ...I was just playing with words. Don’t let it get to your head.

Roger: Ho-oh? I did think this before, but I’m pretty sure from your reaction just now, it was genuine.

Alfons: Well, the respect I hold for your optimism is, indeed, genuine through and through.

As this meaningless conversation blossomed...

A low, calm voice murmured.

Elbert: ...Al.

Alfons: Yes?

Elbert: Was there that ‘wonderful thing’ in you...?

Alfons: ...

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Hence, I would like to use this as a test.

A: One to see if the thing called love really is within me.

A: And whether it is such a wonderful thing that can make me want to cling onto this greed and live.

—— End flashback ——

Alfons: ...Not at all.

A: But——if we are talking about a troublesome replacement so awful I can hardly bear it... then yes, I do have that.

Elbert: ...I see.

I wanted to make a mess out of her, to the point it hurt her so much that she could never recover from it.

It would be a far cry to say this feeling was the same as whatever she was pouring into me, but

——That very thing was, without a doubt, there within me.

—— Kate’s POV ——

(I wonder if Alfons is alright... is he hurt anywhere?)

In the carriage, I was fidgeting the entire time as I awaited his return.

(...Maybe, like this, from here on out...)

(Many more nights may pass with worry while waiting for Alfons.)

But, even so... I wanted to believe that he would surely return.

As long as he had a place in my mind——and, if possible, forevermore.

When I clasped my hands together as though in prayer... I heard several footsteps.

(...Could it be?)

With trembling fingertips, I opened the curtain that covered the carriage window just a little and peeked outside.

(Ah——)

And the moment I found that figure, I opened the door and burst outside.

Kate: ...Welcome back! You’re not hurt anywhere, are you...?

Alfons: ......... ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )

Having been walking ahead, his raven hair wavered as he blinked.

Kate: Ah, wait. You don’t have to answer me. I can’t have you dodging my questions yet again.

K: I’ll be checking over your body, head to toe.

K: So take off your coat.

When I extended my hands to his clothes, all of a sudden Alfons burst out laughing.

Alfons: ...hehe.

Kate: ...? What is it...?

Alfons: No, it’s just... hehe, sorry, I... pfft, ahaha!

Kate: Wh—what’s going on!? Is something funny...?

Alfons: Haa... no, it’s just I was very much looking forward to what sort of naughty face I’d be greeted with...

A: ...only to be met with such a wholesome expression, about to be stripped without a shred of sexiness to be seen.

A: ...So, I suppose it’s just a bit anticlimactic, or funny, perhaps.

Kate: N.. ‘naughty face,’ you say——

—— Flashback ——

Kate: When you come back, I will give you a service you won’t forget.

Alfons: ...Come again?

Kate: I... I mean...

K: Weren’t you the one... who said ‘since I’ve made you hold back, I will have to compensate with a service to make up for it?’

Alfons: ...I see now. Indeed, it would seem like I’m left with no choice but to return, yes?

—— End flashback ——

As I remembered my words I had sent him off with, blood rushed to my face.

Alfons: Ah, I see you remembered?

A: Do give me that very service, okay?

Kate: !?

His whispers in my ear made my mind imagine many naughty scenarios,

even though, just before, I had gone pale worrying over his life.

Elbert: Service...? ∑(O_O)

Roger: Ho-oh? So the lil lady made such a promise, huh.

R: You’ve been tainted by Al quite a bit.

Kate: N-no, that’s... that’s not it, I think——

Liam: Oh, what’s this what’s this? Who tainted who?

Ellis: Your face is pretty red, Kate. Are you okay?

Kate: Ah, uhm...

I felt flustered with everyone on my case at the same time with curiosity on their faces.

Alfons: Well now, I do find myself ever uncertain on how to answer. ...Isn’t that right, Kate?

Kate: ...!

Indeed, Alfons was indeed this type of person.

—— Flashback ——

Harrison: Oh, what, so you already made a move on her, Al.

Alfons: Hehe, I do find myself ever uncertain on how to answer. ...Isn’t that right, Miss Kate?

—— End flashback ——

Ever since the day he first showed me an illusion that he was my ‘lover’ and spent the night with me, it had always been that way.

(Whenever he opens his mouth, nothing good comes out of it.)

(He played with my sincere feelings, making them spin upon the palm of his hand,)

(all the while keeping his true feelings to himself.)

One word was more than enough to make a mess out of my mind, and it would fill to the brim with thoughts of him.

But, in spite of all that——

He would take a space in my mind, driving away my pain and sadness,

and he was the fool of a man who showed me comfortable dreams, and then tried to disappear like that.

Indeed——that was the ‘truth’ of yours that I had come to so deeply love.

Kate: ...

Pulling on the lapels of his coat, I pulled Alfons in and pressed my lips against his.

Elbert & Roger: ... (□_□)

Liam: Wowie... (O.O)

Alfons: ... (O_O)

Kate: ...I’ve been tainted so much by you, I end up doing things like this.

Just as he wanted to leave marks on me, I, too, wanted to leave mine on Alfons.

Well, such a thing probably couldn’t even hold a candle to whatever he had carved in me.

Kate: And from now on... you’ll go on to taint me even more, won’t you?

My eyes filled with embarrassment, I shot a glare at him, to which he responded with an exasperated-looking smile.

Alfons: ...You truly are a fool, aren’t you.

A: If the picture from here on out turns out awful and you end up regretting it, it won’t be on me then.

[1] Even if it does, I won’t regret it.

[2] Who can say how it’ll turn out? (+4 / +4)

[3] Mixing the colors of that picture is what makes it beautiful.

Kate: But, who can say how it’ll turn out? Nobody knows.

K: Of course, the colors may end up becoming a mess,

K: but, it could also become something very beautiful, like a mosaic painting or stained glass.

Alfons: If said picture does turn out that way... I would very much like to lay my eyes on such a scene.

However many times, I will claw my way to his heart, and leave many marks,

because he was neither an illusion nor a mirage——right now, he was here before me.

——Or so I say.

Kate: ...

Now that I was before the door to his room, I felt my heart was going to break.

(I know I said I was going to give him a service he’d never forget, but that doesn’t mean I thought about what that entailed...!)

Unable to look at Alfons, who was standing beside me, I ended up staring at the door without much intention.

(Besides, Alfons seems like the type to have done a lot of different types of role play and whatnot up until now...)

(So what if he’s disappointed like, ‘That’s all you’ve got?’... then what should I do?)

Such thoughts spun in my mind.

Alfons: ...hehe.

Hearing his stifled laugh made my shoulders jump.

And when I slowly turned to look beside me, he was looking at me as though he were looking at something positively amusing.

It was like he had laid his eyes on a cat who got tangled in a ball of yarn.

Alfons: For someone who had so passionately come at me about ‘wanting to do things that feel good’ while drinking at the pub,

A: you’re quite meek today, no?

Kate: ...Um... well, at that time, I was drunk...

Alfons: So that was the influence from the liquor?

Kate: No, that’s not it...

K: Even when I got rejected, I couldn’t get rid of my feelings for you... no matter what I did...

The more I spoke, the more it seemed my limbs were getting more tangled in yarn.

Alfons: But now such is not the case, and so you cannot bring yourself to be that bold, yes?

A: It’s a story you could find anywhere else, isn’t it? One where all the passion poofs when all the obstacles are gone.

Kate: N-no, that’s not it! In fact, I like you even more than I ever did then...!

Alfons: Is that so?

His sensually beautiful smile filled my entire vision.

Kate: Ah...!

By the time I realized he had wheedled me into saying something embarrassing yet again, I found myself trapped in his arms——

Alfons: Well then... do tell me more about that, why don’t you.

With the hand that was behind his back, he opened the door, and while holding me, he invited me to his room like he was dancing.

(Ah...)

His fragrance became more prominent then.

The moment I felt that, my body felt hot.

Alfons: You won’t say something like how you’ll hold back tonight, will you?

to be continued…

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[pastelskyewrites]

GIRL Magazine ft Yamamoto Asami [3/3]

"I wanted to do something along the lines of 'heroine becoming the villainess' for my last two programs. For my short program, where I wear the lilac dress, I was the heroine waiting for her prince to come to her after saving the world. But he didn't, he found someone else whilst I was busy fighting for the greater good. For the kingdom.

My love interest thought I'd fight for him after finding out. That I'd do whatever it took to win back his heart.

Instead I become a villainess in my Free program, when the person he chose over me supposedly only used him to get hold of the crown. I, the supposed heroine expected to step in and stop her, became the villainess for enabling it... because I watched the whole kingdom burn instead."

Asami gives us a deep dive on her last two programs as she recounts on her last season as a figure competitive skater

More under the cut

The story behind her short program

Short program: In the Middle of the Night

The heroine waited, and waited and waited, but the prince never came. Growing impatient, the heroine took her shoes and decided to head out by her window.

"What are you doing?" the villain whispered. The heroine gasped and took her sword out , holding it to his throat. The villain laughed, pushing her blade to the side with his finger. "You may have won the war but you definitely lost something... or rather, someone," the villain's green eyes glowed under the dark moonlight.

The heroine glowered and sighed. The villain's powers were successfully taken away, he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone at this point. She knew she was better off just ignoring him, but there was something in the way he looked at her confidently that made her want to find out more.

The villain, of course, knew he had the heroine's attention and decided to go further. He held out his hand with a wicked grin, "why don't you follow me and find out."

Hesitantly, the heroine took the villain's hand, shocked by how smooth and warm it felt in hers. The villain whispered something with his eyes closed and soon enough the heroine found themselves teleported into the prince's room.

The heroine gasps as she saw the prince carrying someone else into his bed- the bed she always wanted to lay one but could never because the prince said it was only for someone of noble blood. The villain raised a brow and frowned after feeling the heroine's grip tighten.

Her hand shook as her supposedly beloved started to passionately kiss the girl on his bed. Soon, tears started to roll down her cheeks. The villain tried to shake the heroine's hand off him but couldn't. His original plan was to see the heroine hurt and leave her there to lash out on the prince- but after seeing the heroine cry, he knew he couldn't.

"Let's get out of here," the Villain whispered something again before teleporting them back into the heroine's room.

Completely broken, the heroine dropped to her knees as she bursts into tears. "Is this what you wanted to see? Now that you've seen me completely broken just leave me alone," the heroine managed to say through her tears. The villain could only sigh and kneel to meet the heroine's gaze.

He lifted her tear-stained face up so she would look at him, surprised to see that he was sorry.

"I was expecting to feel happiness after seeing you lose. Instead, I felt happiness knowing I no longer have to share your attention with that dim-witted prince," the villain chuckled as he wiped the heroine's tears. "As you can see, I never lost my powers. I only made it seem like it knowing you'd finally be seen worthy of him."

The heroine couldn't believe the words coming out of the villain's mouth. She could only look at him as if he grew another head.

"But after seeing how he repaid you by saving the kingdom from my wrath, I figured you should know," the villain stood up and started heading for the window. "I might start wreaking havoc again, so please recover fast," he smirked and prepared to jump off.

The heroine screamed for him to wait, and so the villain did. "You tried to destroy the entire kingdom because I had feelings for someone else and pretended to be defeated by me knowing it'd grant me a marriage offer from the prince?" the Heroine gripped onto the villain's cloak, just to make sure he didn't go anywhere until he answered her question.

Sighing, the villain looked at her and nodded and for a moment there she swore she saw hurt in his eyes just recalling the moments they fought in the last battle. "You deserved better, but better wasn't what you wanted, you wanted the prince," his voice was laced with pain. The villain tugged his cloak from her grasp and turned around.

Acting on impulse, the heroine pulled the villain back by the arm and swirled him to face her. "What if I want 'better now'?" she whispered.

And before the villain could answer, the heroine wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a passionate kiss.

Asami's choreographer, Elise Cha, shared this on her blog a few days after Asami won the gold medal for the second time. Asami also later went through their thought process when it comes to choosing their songs, her dress and etc.

Asami: At first I chose this song because it's extremely catchy. It didn't help that it was a piece my contemporary instructor chose in one of my classes that time.

However, as my choreographer and I tried to develop a story around this song, we started with a princess waiting for her prince... in the middle of the night [chuckles]. It wasn't until a few weeks later my choreographer pitched the idea of me being a heroine waiting for her prince to come to her after saving the kingdom. The short story she posted on her blog was the same one she sent to me to read. I was sold immediately, I even wanted her to continue writing the story because I was so in to it.

Asami mentioned how after that she started to read a lot of novels that had the enemies to lovers trope in it, and it also helped her try to show the expressions she wanted to show after being betrayed by the prince.

Asami: The heroine we had in mind was someone who was graceful and soft. So I held a lot of my moves- my cantilevers, my spirals- I held them a lot longer than I usually would. There was also a lot of ballet on this one. Think Odette from Swan Lake kind of energy.

This piece was definitely more challenging for me in my opinion. Because for my free program, I had a lot of momentum to work with but for this one it was all about flowing gracefully, like water. pretty much what ballerinas do- look pretty while doing something extremely hard.

Many skater fans also noticed that despite the piece looking extremely easier to do, they were proven wrong after attempting the piece themselves. It had some of the harder transitions- like a needle to a 3A, and she had to always pay attention into ensuring her movements were flowy and soft.

However, the piece that trended was her Free program- mostly because she managed to skate clean with 5 quads in her program.

The story behind her Free program

Free Program: House of Memories [at playback speed 1.25]

The villain and the heroine ended up together a few years after the prince's betrayal. They stayed together in a cottage just in the outskirts of the kingdom.

The villain was making the heroine's favorite- hotcakes with syrup. He happily hummed as he stole glances at his now-wife who was still sound asleep. He smiled at himself, feeling proud as he kept her up all night only capable of saying his name.

There was a knock on the door, unfortunately waking his beloved wife up. "I'll get it," the villain placed the last pancake on the plate and wiped his hands on his apron, approaching the door. The heroine shook her head and told him to stay put.

"Yes?" the heroine answered after opening the door. It was one of the palace guards.

"W-we need your help- the new queen, after marrying the king she- she..." the palace guard sighed, unable to continue his story out of fear. "She turned into a dragon and flew away with the King! The crowned prince is only 3 years old, we need your help in defeating the queen and getting our king back please," the palace guard knelt, begging.

The heroine sighed and shook her head. "Go back, I'm not interested. I'm living happily here," the she nodded towards the path behind the palace guard. The palace guard's face switched from desperate to shock.

"D-don't you love him?" the palace guard tried again. The heroine could only laugh. Soon enough the villain joined her at the door. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling him towards him. The palace guard didn't recognize the villain, considering he looked completely different when he was setting everything on fire four years back.

"I did," the heroine replied. "But now I'm with someone better," the heroine replied coldly. The villain chuckled, picking up on the reference in her reply. "Please leave, before I lose my patience," the heroine warned. Defeated, the palace guard's shoulders dropped as he turned around.

The heroine sighed and closed the door, turning around to see her husband with his arms crossed across his chest. She raised a brow, wondering why.

"Are you really not going to save the kingdom again, heroine?" he flashed a wicked grin. The same grin he showed her the night they first kissed. The heroine found herself throwing her head back laughing. She took his hand and led him towards the hotcakes the villain worked so hard on.

"I think I'm ready to tell you everything in detail; the good, the bad and the ugly," the heroine started. "Better yet, let's get the best seats in the kingdom as we watch it fall," the heroine added.

The villain smirked as he chewed on his hotcakes, "from the outside, I suppose?"

Fans immediately jumped on the bandwagon and started writing their own version of the story based on Elise posted on her blog. Asami also acknowledged it by reposting some of her favorite ones

Asami: this, this was my favorite out of all the programs I did. It went through the most amount of revisions as well [chuckles] The first version didn't have a story behind it, it was choreographed with my retirement one day in mind. So it's just me on my feels as I reminisce the years I spent in competitive figure skating and the last time I ever compete.

But now with the heroine-turned-villainess story arc behind it? It gave the program a fresh breath of life. It wasn't just me reminiscing about the past anymore, now it's me looking forward stronger than ever too [smiles]

Many fans consider this program to be the best way to close her competitive career in figure skating- with a banging story, a song that went well with it and a world record that's still unbeatable till this day.

[anhed-nia]

NOT BLOGTOBER 10/20/2022: ZO IN EXILE

When I read the description of Dylan O’Keefe’s compact, low budget indie project ZO IN EXILE, I developed a certain image of it in my mind:

“Zo and friends venture off for a weekend getaway to a cabin in the quiet town of Exile, New York. But a bucolic vacation turns grim when Zo's friends, fueled by debauchery and excess, plunge her into a fantasy world of frenzy where her only escape is to come to terms with her own destructive nature. Or else face the music of eternal madness.”

Between this summary and the movie’s poster, featuring lead actress Shiho Matsuoka’s pained expression as she gazes into the void, I came to expect a grim, agonal psychodrama about the sadomasochism inherent in human nature. I had set myself up for a big surprise. ZO IN EXILE defied my expectations several times from being to end, the experience of which is so pleasing that I hesitate to describe what happens in it to others. It would be better to go in knowing as little as I did. But, if you insist on coming prepared, I’ll do my best to explain it.

The first seed of ZO IN EXILE was sown when filmmaker Dylan O’Keefe and his fiancee and producer Jennifir Nicholich started joking about the prodigious mop Dylan had grown during the pandemic, aping the end of THE WIZARD OF OZ: “And you were there, and you were there, and you were there, and you were—HAIR?!’” The gag eventually evolved into one of ZO’s central villains, a sentient, man-sized, blade-wielding wig that pursues Zo through her own version of Oz. In saying this much, I’ve already given you a taste of how bonkers ZO IN EXILE is, but like THE WIZARD OF OZ, it begins in a very familiar place.

Zo (Shiho Matsuoka) joins her friend Jack (Adrián Burke) and horny couple Jacob (John DiMino) and Judy (Madeleine Ours) for a getaway at a cabin in the woods. The shy, sensitive protagonist’s unease with her companions’ hard partying seems to forecast an EVIL DEAD-like fate for them all—and let’s face it, EVIL DEAD is a popular thing to imitate for young filmmakers on a microbudget. So, if you’ve seen any amount of homemade horror movies, you might feel like you know what you’re in for. O’Keefe is counting on it: “It’s been done a hundred thousand times, it’s very easy to shoot… So I kind of wanted to follow that cliché, and then trail off into Alice In Wonderland.” Initially, Zo is more threatened by her so-called friends than the cosmic horror that haunts the cabin, as “nice guy” Jack joins the group effort to get her hammered so she’ll be more vulnerable to him, and Jacob physically isolates her, knocking her out. Zo doesn’t consciously experience what so obviously happens next, as she plunges into a dream state that at first resembles a karaoke video.

This “follow the bouncing ball” musical sequence is the first hint we have that the world of Exile is collaged out of various forms of popular media that make up our collective subconscious; some viewers have noted similarities to HAUSU, TOO MANY COOKS, and Wonder Showzen, but O'Keefe's influences are more mundane. In her dream state, Zo meets the otherworldly Landlord (Tee Sudderth), a deceptively maternal woman with a malicious wig, who sends our heroine winking in and out of parallel universes resembling early silent films, TV commercials, sitcoms, and YouTube tutorials as she tries to find her way home. After inducing a false sense of familiarity with its EVIL DEAD pastiche, the insanity of EXILE escalates rapidly, and against all expectations, it becomes extremely funny. In its most startling episode, a Tiktok influencer has her phone stolen mid-video, and we join the phone on a breakneck race through the subway system where it meets a grim fate. The best special effect in the movie is really O’Keefe’s editing, which creates a rhythm that suits both horror and comedy.

“I want to do something I didn’t have to really care about, that I could try to not be such a perfectionist with,” the filmmaker says of a film that he is careful to insist was made just for fun. ZO IN EXILE was shot and assembled over two years of the pandemic more or less as a diversion, but as zany as it is, there remains something personal and quietly intense simmering beneath its surface. A particularly hilarious scene involves a predatory telemarketer (Noam Harary) from Great Northern Wellness and Insurance, Innovative Products, Brokers & Adjusters who tries to scam an isolated old lady named Helen, but she’s seen so much shit in her time that there is no beating her. The scene goes from comical to oddly sobering, before transitioning to a scene of Zo wandering through a seemingly endless graveyard that blends perfectly into the Manhattan skyline, giving the impression that the city and the cemetery are part of the same continuum. O’Keefe explains this sequence: “The whole idea was, my mother is a hospice worker, and unfortunately the elderly are very disposable (in our society). The telemarketer is trying to grift this person at the end of her life; if there’s a dollar to be made, it will be.”

Dylan O’Keefe credits his bright, hardworking mother as a major influence on him, which makes it unsurprising that ZO IN EXILE is dotted with potent female characters. The Landlord finds a parallel in the caretaker Biandbi (Debra Toscano), an amusingly passive-aggressive Italian-American lady who ropes Zo into the film’s most dreamlike scenario. She entices Zo to help her tend to a beehive inside an antique trunk, explaining, “If the hive has a violent queen, the hive is violent. If the hive has a gentle queen, the hive is gentle. I have a violent queen…you must be the gentle queen.” Besides being excitingly weird, the scene also puns on Zo’s longed-for home in Queens, and also the multiple queen-like figures in the story. As our heroine, Shiho Matsuoka plays it deadly straight, which has the effect of making the funny scenes even funnier, and the moving moments more affecting. If there were even a whiff of sarcasm or irony about her, ZO IN EXILE wouldn’t work the way it does, with its strange undercurrent of sincerity.

The strong, independent women aren’t the only abstractly autobiographical element in the movie; perhaps its most striking image is of a burning piano (with incredible live sound), which happens to be the exact instrument on which the filmmaker learned to play as a youth. O’Keefe laughs off this strangely poignant inclusion by noting, “During the pandemic when work was slow, I became a volunteer firefighter. I’m a bit of a pyro, I like to light shit on fire—sorry, Chief! But I’m lapsed now, I haven’t volunteered for six months.” The real thing to learn from this beat is that you don’t need to be spoiled for resources in order to make a really surreal and visually striking movie; you just need an open mind and a little gumption. OK, maybe a lot of gumption, especially if you’re trying to make something unusual that people don’t yet know they'll want to see.

What I’m trying to say is, you DO want to see it, because there’s no other way you’ll believe it. Check it out tonight (10/27) at 10pm, and this Saturday (10/29) at midnight at the Film Noir Cinema in Greenpoint. If your friends are foolish enough to miss it but you don’t know how to describe it, point them to this review and maybe that’ll help. Maybe.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Would it be possible to get the aftermath of a heroic whumpee who went up against someone incredibly far out of their league? Kind of along the lines of that one time Dazzler went up against the Juggernaut on her own (A heroine with light projection powers vs a villain with the power of unstoppable force) and ended up being beaten to the point where she was too weak to move. The other heroes become her caretakers for a little while. I loved that arc and could really use something similar.

I can hardly describe how much I love this prompt. I absolutely adore it, and I can only hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I think I’m somewhat familiar with Dazzler, though when I looked through the wiki, I couldn’t find anything about this story? The wiki may just be incomplete, though. It reminds me of a story arc of the original ms. marvel, too!

This is absolutely one of my favorite kinds of whump, and I really hope that I did it justice. Thank you so much for the ask!

CW//Medical settings, poison, therapy, paralysis, inability to speak, self-hatred, low self-esteem, hair-pulling

The metal doors at the entrance to the Metropolis General Emergency Room swung upon with the force of a thunder clap. And, just as thunder, they too heralded lightning.

Or, at the very least, light.

A pair of lab-coats pushed forth a gurney on ratta-tatta-tattling caster wheels, footsteps crashing on the floor in even rhythm. Close behind, an entourage of two sprinted in close pursuit: A pair of heroes in civilian clothes.

“Lux!”

To the person laid upon the gurney, the voice felt to be emanating from a thousand miles away. Or more. Maybe a couple thousand, or a million... It was hard to think about numbers when their mind was stuffed with cotton, and their vision was dominated by blurry white ceiling tiles.

“What in the world happened to them?” The doctor that spoke had had all sense of clinical professionalism drained from their tongue.

“We don’t know.” A hero, outfitted in jeans and sweater, replied in a single, slurred sound. “We just found them, and-”

It was too loud. Far, far too loud-- Lux felt as though the full force of the ocean had made the sudden decision to crash into their eardrums. And, beneath at all, the caster wheels refused to stop their clitter-clatter. Spikes piercing their temples, they let out the tiniest of cries.

A tiny sound, and all eyes were on them.

“Lux!”

“Lux, what in the world happened to you?”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Talk to us!”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up.”

“Lux. Lux, what did you do?”

Lux, what did you do?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The support beam shook against the force of the body, hurled at it. Shudders rocked from the base to the top, threatening for the thousandth time the structural stability of the building.

And the structural stability of Lux’s ribs.

With several hoarse coughs, the hero struggled to hands and knees, joints wobbling as though the ground they were braced against were the epicenter of an earthquake.

They could taste it.

They could taste what they had been inflicted with, more than they could feel it. The wound upon their side had long since gone numb-- at the very least, the poison had that benefit to it. Now, the sensation had migrated to Lux’s tongue. A bitter flavor of burnt coffee.

Even if they had the chance, they had no desire at all to examine the gash that had been torn across their side. They’d heard the stories, seen the headlines.

Lux knew what happened to Mercury’s victims.

That was why they were here, after all.

“Had enough yet, kid?”

The voice was booming, sounding from the other side of the half-toppled warehouse. In their weakened state, Lux could barely raise their head high enough to meet the eyes of their foe.

Mercury’s height was unimportant, as was their general stature. After all, it was hard to focus on his body. It was hard to focus on anything but the claws-- terrible, wicked things curling outwards from his knuckles.

A single slash from them, and flesh would begin to curl away, to rot. To necrose.

The wound they had been inflicted with was already a death sentence. But, not an immediate one-- Lux had a bit of time left on death row.

A bit of time to make this right.

Shivering, the hero stood to their feet, facing their opponent from a hundred foot’s distance. It was the most ridiculous of match-ups. A chihuahua against a pit bull. A garden snake against a cobra.

That didn’t mean that Lux couldn’t try.

“Firefly wants another round, then?” The villain’s voice curled, almost as venomous as their blades. “Try me, kid.”

And try they did.

Hands balled to fists at their side, Lux took one, single step forth, stomping onto the warehouse’s concrete floor with a decisive strike.

It was as though a bomb had gone off.

The world was swallowed, all at once, by white. Light engulfed each shadow, each color, until the universe was as blank as unexposed photo paper.

It was merely a distraction, a smokescreen. But they needed time to recover. Time to catch their breath.

Time to remember why they were doing this.

In the world of heroes, Mercury had a particular nickname-- “The Untouchable.” He was the lion in the zoo. No one dared get near him, much less touch him. It was a death sentence, to be slashed by his claws. The heroes were terrified of him, and that gave him a free license to tear the world to shreds.

It was from one of their villainous informants that Lux had heard of the plan initially. The water supply. Mercury had found a way to distill the poison held within their claws, and they intended to release it into the city water supply.

To kill every last citizen of Metropolis.

But the others turned merely a blind eye. No one would touch the villain. They had resigned themselves to dealing with the aftermath.

That would mean deaths. That would mean ‘acceptable causalities.’

To Lux, there was no such thing as an acceptable causality. Only a problem that needed to be solved.

Their teammates had insisted, begged, nearly, that they not be so careless. But, when had Lux even been known as the careful one?

Not once in their life.

“Stop this, Mercury!” The hero snapped into the expanse of white. “Just-”

Lux did not so much as see the fist before it connected. Did not so much as feel the claws, raking their neck.

Not before the world went from black to white.

Lux, what did you do?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You did it.”

Those were the first words that Lux heard clearly, after escaping from their haze. Consciousness teased them as the world above turned from colors to shapes to vision.

White tiles, spotless and all in a row. Their perfect nature was threatened only by an out-of-place beeping that nearly forced the hero to once more fall to sleep.

But, they managed to cling to consciousness as they turned their head to the side, revealing a figure, interrupting their view of the tiles overhead.

A figure. A person. A-

“You did it, Lux.”

Nora. Nora, their friend, their teammate, their comrade. Not Mercury. Not a villain. If Nora was here, then they were safe. The hero had an almost supernaturally calming way about herself, located somewhere between her wispy tangle of black hair and the way her movements imitated the performance of a dancer.

But, wait- Why wasn’t she in uniform? No, now she bore only the clothes of a civilian.

No. No, of course she wasn’t wearing a uniform. Lux had gone on a mission, yes. But it hadn’t been with their team.

They’d tried to stop Mercury, and-

“The water’s safe.” Nora’s voice was only just as smooth as her movements. “Mercury’s been contained. You did it.”

“And by god, what were you thinking?!”

The shout sent a stabbing agony through the side of Lux’s skull. That was more so the reaction they had expected.

Nickel. The most paranoid superhero on planet Earth.

Lux struggled to open their lips, to bring forth an explanation. To state that they had been doing what was right. That they had been doing what a hero should have done.

And yet...

And yet, their lips refused to so much as twitch. Too, their tongue sat dead in their mouth, numb and useless.

The only muscle in their body that functioned was their heart, which in that moment began to race.

“You could’ve died!” Nickel’s tirade continued, despite the fact that the target was showing not a single reaction. “Or worse! You could’ve died, or worse, or both! That was so stupid.

Don’t give me the silent treatment, dammit. Explain yourself!”

Lux wanted so desperately to do so. Their heartbeat turned, now, to a pounding tattoo within their skull, the pedal of a bass drum, slamming against the inside of their cranium.

They couldn’t move.

A twitch of the head. A blink, maybe. That was all. That was all they had left.

Lux had saved the world.

Their vision began to swirl.

Lux had saved the world, but what had they given up in exchange?

Telling when the hero fell unconscious was nearly impossible. Yet, when their eyes at last drifted closed, it became clear that whatever wakefulness they had had was now extinguished.

That left two heroes, one proud and one paranoid, leaning over a hospital bed. Shivering both in their own rights, Nickel and Nora stood. It was with great care that the room’s entrance was pushed open. The doctor that did so walked backwards-- their hands were quite thoroughly occupied by a clipboard.

Nickel and Nora said not a word, as speechless as their teammate. They both knew that this was the bringing of news.

This doctor was the bearer of their friends fate.

“They’re going to live.”

That was what they started with. 

“With medical care, Lux will survive this ordeal. However, they will need to stay under intensive care until their immediate symptoms subside.”

Nora stared blankly for a long moment, before whispering:

“They aren’t moving. They aren’t talking.”

The doctor could manage only the more sympathetic of nods. Again, they repeated themself, but, this time, with an addition:

“Lux is going to live. But, most likely, they will never be the same. The poison has taken its toll on their system. There’s no cure. No antidote.

One day, they may be able to move, or speak. But, they have a very, very long road ahead of them.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Very, very long was an understatement.

No, the doctor would have been better have describing Lux’s journey as a highway from Moscow to Las Vegas.

“The rains in Spain fall mainly on the plain.”

“Da ra’zz spa- ff mm a pla.”

“The rains in Spain fall mainly on the plain.”

“Za ree z’pa fa ma- play.”

“One more try. The rains in Spain-”

“Nnn- oh! No!”

The lab-coated doctor sitting before Lux set down their clipboard with a heavy sigh, sending only another bubble of rage rising in the hero’s chest. They balled their hands into fists, shaking them furiously before placing their open palms upon their temples.

Lux hated this. Lux hated every last minute, every last instant of this. They hated the doctor. They hated the doctor’s office they had to sit in, walls covered from floor to ceiling with charts of vowels and consonants. More than anything, they hated their exercises.

It should have been simple! Eight words. Eight simple words. If they could repeat them properly, then they would never have to go to one of these stupid appointments ever again.

But, they couldn’t. They couldn’t say eight simple words. In fact, they couldn’t even say one.

A month in the hospital, and Lux could not so much as speak. It made them want to tear their hair out! In fact, they would do that, had they had the motor control for it.

But, they didn’t. They didn’t have anything.

The last month had been the longest of the hero’s existence. Hell, those thirty days had felt to be longer than the rest of their entire life, put together! Thirty days and thirty nights of utter hell.

When they had gone off to face Mercury on their own, Lux had been very well prepared to die. They had not been prepared for this.

From the outside, the progress that the hero was making was undeniable. They had begun in a state of complete and utter paralysis, able to move their head, their eyes, and not a thing else. It was only with thrice-a-day physical therapy that they had begun to move. First, it was only moving their head. Then, their arms. Their legs. By the end, they could even sit up, with the help of a helping hand.

Every day, Lux’s teammates visited. And, every day, they congratulated their friend on their progress.

But, as far as Lux was concerned, it had been a month, and they hadn’t made an inch of progress. As hard as they tried, they were still laid up in a hospital. Still broken. Still useless.

They knew that their friends were trying. They knew-- it was evident on their expressions. Those constant, stupid looks of pity. They would never speak about their own lives, about their missions. The villainous plots they’d stopped, the battles they’d won. No. They focused only on the mundane: Where they’d gone for lunch, how they’d spent their evening.

It was out of pity. Lux knew that. It was all pity. But, in all truth, those were the only moments during which they ever felt, truly, like themself. Like Lux.

Like a hero.

So they’d heard, the media had praised them, lauded them for their victory. But they never spoke of the sacrifice it had taken.

Their friends’ visits were the only parts of the day that Lux had to get forward to. The rest of their life was filled with... this.

“Lux.” The doctor coaxed. “You need to do your exercises. You’re already getting so much better! But you won’t make any progress if you don’t try.”

“Don’ thwaa ex- thwaa ta.”

“Don’t want exercises, want talk?”

Lux narrowed their eyes. But, that had been what they were trying to say. The fact that it needed to be repeated, interpreted, however, made them feel sick.

“You need your exercises, Lux. How about we just try one more time? I know you can do it. You’re already doing so well!”

Eight simple words. Eight simple words, and Lux could be a hero again. Eight words, and they could be a person again.

“Okay, Lux. Repeat after me: The rains in Spain fall mainly on the plain.”

“Tha ran-”

Yet, that was all they could make out. Lux’s throat ran dry of words, void of syllables. They couldn’t speak before, and now, they couldn’t so much as make a sound.

They never cried in front of others. Never. Yet, that rule had been broken in the hospital already a dozen times. And, so it seems, this would make thirteen.

Lux’s chest was wracked with heavy sobs as they buried their face in their hands. Soon, tears leaked from beneath their shaking fingers.

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“I’m right here for you, Lux. Lean on me all you need.”

Nora’s voice carried the same cadence as water, meandering through a stream. Too, of course, did her gestures. A gentle, yet firm hand took Lux by the wrist, wrapping their arm around their comrade’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be hard, okay? It’s going to be hard. It’s okay to get tired. And you don’t have to get it on your first try. Or your fifth. Or your hundredth.”

Lux stopped listening on the last part.

This was it. The final gauntlet. Nearly an entire season spent within hospital walls-- now came their test. Everything counted on it. As far as they were concerned, it was a matter of life or death.

If they succeeded, they were home free. They could be brought home by their teammates-- of course, while still attending outpatient physical therapy, but still! They would be home.

And, yet, if they failed? They would be placed back in their hospital room. They would continue to be useless, a burden on both doctor and friend alike.

Everything was riding on this. Lux took a deep breath, and opened their eyes to face their challenge:

A hallway.

They had studied it extensively. Seven feet in width, and perhaps twenty in length. A tiny little thing, used only to get between two particular rooms. It was in the very depths of the hospital; that was why they were using it. There was no chance of distraction, of interruption.

“Are you ready, Lux?”

“Yesthh.”

“Okay.”

Their weight was leaned, nearly entirely, upon Nora. But, that didn’t matter. It wasn’t a test of standing on their own. If that was the test, they’d never get out of this hellish place. All they had to do was make it to the end of the hallway, with help. They could go slowly. They could lean. They could rest.

They only had to make it to the end.

Nora placed one foot forward, waiting for Lux to do the same, which they did, slowly and shakily. It was in this manner that they moved. One foot, one foot, staying always in the slowest of locksteps.

For Nora, it was simple.

For Lux, it was agony. Their knees felt mere milliseconds away from buckling, legs straining under the weight of the rest of them, even as the vast majority of it was leaned onto their friend.

Five feet. Five tiny, minuscule steps. That was how far Lux made it.

And then they were falling.

They did not remember the fall, not really. One moment, their knees had given out. And, the next, they were on their side, on the carpet.

Shaking.

This had been it. This had been their chance. All they had to do was walk down a hallway, that was it! Then, they could have gone home. Then, they could have been with their friends.

Then, they could have finally been a hero again.

And they’d failed. They’d failed the simplest of tasks.

In that moment, a certainty struck Lux like a dagger to the chest: They were never going to get better. Never. It didn’t matter how many exercises they did, how many doctors they saw. This whole thing was pointless! They were going to be worthless until the end of time.

On the floor, Lux screamed. It was a babbling, incoherent thing, as most sounds they made were. Too, they began to thrash, slamming their fists into the floor as they howled in anguish.

Then, they weren’t thrashing anymore. They couldn’t.

Lux had no need to open their eyes to tell what was happening. They knew Nora’s footsteps, knew the sound of her racing over. The feeling of her, hauling them into her arms. Holding them close.

They knew, also, the sounds of doors opening. Of more footsteps, familiar footsteps. Of chattering voices. Their friends’ voices.

Their whole-

Lux’s breath caught in their throat.

In order to avoid distraction, it had only been them and Nora in the room. They had assumed that it was only Nora who had visited that day. And, yet, they knew these voices.

Their whole...

Their whole team. Their whole team had come to watch. They counted every voice, every pair of footsteps. Every last one of their friends had come to watch them succeed.

But, they’d only watched them fail. Lux expected heckling, expected to be berated.

They did not expect the half-dozen pairs of arms, wrapped around them. They didn’t expect to be the center of a group hug.

“You’re doing so well.”

“You got so far!”

“Just a little more practice, and you’ll be back out there fighting crime in no time.”

“You’re almost there!”

“That’s the furthest you’ve been able to walk yet!”

“We’re proud of you.”

Lux’s tears did not stop.

And, yet, they realized something:

They were no longer tears of sorrow.