#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.”

[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.”

[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…

← prev next →

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[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.

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

“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.

[dmcvergillament]

Bedtime Stories [Part 1]

Fem!Reader x Vergil

Summary: Unable to sleep, young Nero requests a bedtime story. You happily oblige and weave a tale that Vergil recognizes. Nero falls asleep to the legend of the dancer and the dragon and Vergil remembers how he fell in love with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tucking little Nero in for the night, Y/N kisses his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my little angel."

Vergil picks up toys off the floor.

Nero catches Y/N's hand to stop them from leaving. "I...can't sleep without a story."

Vergil looks up from studying a blue bird plush he found. It looked oddly familiar...

Y/N smiles and sits back down on the bed to brush aside Nero's bangs. "Alright. What story shall I tell?"

Nero snuggles up to his chin in his comforter, eyes shimmering with curiosity. He waits for his mother to begin.

"Ah! I know: how about the legend of the dancer and the dragon?" suggests Y/N.

Vergil pauses as he sets the bird down alongside a black cat on a shelf. His interest is also piqued. What fantasy is Y/N spinning now?

"In a land far, far away in a time long, long ago..." begins Y/N, twirling her hands.

'There they go again with that dramatic voice,' thinks Vergil. Still, he cannot deny how his lover never fails to spark wonder in their son's eyes. Only a few words in and she has Nero's full attention.

"...there was a dancer who could mesmerize entire palaces with every step. When they moved it was like watching petals on the breeze. The soft colors of their clothes twirling around their long legs. Stories spread across many kingdoms of not only their unrivaled skill but also that of their bewitching beauty. All that bore witness to their dance were charmed. It was like a magic spell only they could use," continues Y/N.

"Were they as pretty as you, Mama?" mews Nero, tilting his head in that way that always melted Y/N's heart.

Y/N reaches over to stroke their son's ivory hair, before opening her mouth to say---

"What a foolish question." Gliding over to the bed, Vergil sits opposite of Y/N. His eyes flicker to Y/N before he continues, "Do not compare a rose to a field of dandelions."

Nero seems satisfied with this answer.

Y/N gestures for Vergil to not interrupt before she adds, "So one day the dancer gets invited to the royal palace to perform. Afterwards, the King becomes so enthralled, he begs them to stay and marry one of his sons. The dancer politely refuses and leaves. This was not the answer the King had hoped for and so he hired a famous knight to find her and bring her back to the palace."

Rubbing his chin, Vergil wonders, 'Why does this sound oddly...familiar?'

"This knight always wore brilliant, scarlet armor, so the people called him the 'Crimson Knight'. Legends spoke of how he could slay any monster and of the sword he carried upon his back. It was a grand sword said to be enchanted with an ancient magic that allowed it to cut through even dragon hide," explained Y/N, waving her hands like she was trying to make the sword appear.

"He was a dragon slayer?" asks Nero curiously.

"No matter how tall or dangerous the monster may be, he was always victorious. While many claimed to have been witness to such a feat, no one knew for certain if he had slain a dragon. After all, dragons were the most powerful of foes. They were cunning, proud, and equipped with immense magic," answered Y/N.

"Could he beat a dragon?" questions Nero.

"He most certainly believed he could. After all, he was the Crimson Knight: the warrior of all the human kingdoms. Whenever a monster appeared, he was called in to defeat it," replied Y/N with a nod.

"Sounds like someone I know," grumbles Vergil.

"Shhhh."

"But here he was faced with a strange request: to hunt not a beast but a woman. A woman armed with only an aptitude for dancing. This was not a job for the Crimson Knight. The King---afraid he'd decline and she'd slip away---lied. He told the knight that the dancer was harboring a curse set upon her by a demon. That if she was not found and brought back to the palace to be purified, she would die. Now this resonated with the Crimson Knight. How could he let such a beauty wither and wilt from such misfortune? So he set off to find her," continued Y/N.

"How could he lie? She's not really cursed, is she?" asks Nero with a frown.

Vergil interrupts, "People lie because..." He clears his throat. "Sometimes they lie to get what they want."

"She's not really going to die, right?" whispers Nero.

Vergil glances at Y/N. "No, she won't."

Y/N nudges him with an elbow. "Shhh, no spoilers."

"So without even knowing she was being followed, the dancer hopped from town to town to perform. Rarely did she stay for more than a few days in the same area. Her heart was set on adventure and she enjoyed the journey even if it was tedious without a horse or carriage. She felt as free as the birds in the sky. With her spirits soaring, she set out for the neighboring city. However, along the well-trodden path, a man appeared. Whipping his cart into a frenzy, he was approaching fast. Spotting her, he jerked on the reins and nearly fell off the bench. 'Young lady! Young lady!' he gasped. 'Turn back now! Only death and hellfire awaits at the end of this road!' Stunned, the dancer asked him to explain. 'A dragon has appeared! He has built his den inside the ruins of the castle and he strikes down all who disturb him! The people are terrified! Protect yourself and run while you still can!' Then with a crack of the reins, his cart was disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust. The dancer stood there flabbergasted. How can there be a dragon of all things? Were they not creatures of myth? Not believing in the danger, she continued onwards despite the warning."

"No! Don't go! You'll get eaten!" gasps Nero, burrowing deeper into his comforter to hide.

Vergil snorts. "Depends on what you mean by 'eat' her."

Y/N shoots him a look. Luckily, she seems to be the only one to catch it. Nero is oblivious as he is too busy trying to blend in with his pillows.

"Anyway..."

"Our heroine reached the city and was hit by a startling revelation: it was quiet. Walking through the marketplace, she found stands of fruit abandoned and carts of goods unprotected. Where was all the hustle and bustle? Where were all the people? Further up the road, shutters rattled and there were hints of movement. The dancer wondered if she'd even be able to perform here if there was no one to be the audience. Then an idea stuck her: what if she could coax the people out with her talents? If not dancing, then maybe a lute or harp would soothe their spirits and rekindle the city's vigor. So she sought out the very reason she had come to this territory specifically: the grand theatre. There all kindred souls of music and art showcased their passions. She had hoped to connect with other performers here who were as dedicated to their craft as she was. Spotting the gold rooftop shimmering in the evening sun, she scurried towards it with a renewed excitement. Throwing the doors open, she gleefully announced her arrival."

"Only to be met with silence."

"How can a place of boisterous joy be silent? On hooks and shelves, all the instruments sat idle. Not a single string was singing. Even the tables were vacant with not even a crumb set out for the mice. 'What is going on?' she wondered. Still, she was even more determined now. Picking up a lute, she played a few notes. Testing its voice, she listened to the hearty tones and wondered how anyone could have put it down. Jumping into an energetic melody, she smiled to herself. This hall echoed the sound perfectly: each note complimented each other rather than drown in a sea of cacophony. Erasing the silence eased the chill that had settled in her chest. That is, until someone snatched the lute from her hands. 'Are you mad?!' hissed a man, 'You'll draw the beast right to us!' Confused, she asked him to explain. 'Music attracts him. If you keep playing, he'll come back!' She asked him if he was speaking of the dragon she heard about. 'Yes. He has settled into the castle on the hill. Both the castle and its lord perished many years ago. The city has never been quite the same since. Now this monster has taken over and the peace in our hearts have been shattered.' The man's words sowed worry in her heart. Yet, something struck her funny: if this dragon was so vicious, then why did it only attack, when he heard music? Did music have some kind of power over him?"

"Did the dragon not like music? Why?" Nero peeked around the edges of his blanket.

Y/N fixed her son's hair behind his ear. He was already nurturing the start of a bird's nest.

"The music made him remember..." Vergil's eyes were glossed over. Y/N could tell he was somewhere else. "Remembering was...painful for him."

Not expecting a co-narrator, Y/N waited to see if he would continue.

"See, the dragon was cursed: his memories stolen from him. Hearing a melody sometimes brought those memories back in bright flashes. Remembering what he had lost pained him more than the sharpest blade. Rather than endure his past, he silenced the melody any way he could. Even if it was...cruel," explained Vergil, his voice dry.

Was that a twinge of guilt Y/N could hear?

[Continued in Part 2...W.I.P.]

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 15

Previous | Next | Master List

My gosh, wow! Thank you so much for 100 followers! I never expected to reach this far. And with this chapter, we’ll have finally caught up with it on wattpad!

TW: Injuries being described

The situation in Paris was much, much more serious than they assumed.

————————————————————

Red. He saw red. Ladybug, his Angel was hurt, stabbed, for all of Paris to see. He couldn't stand there and do nothing, oh no. He wouldn't. Damian had to think quickly but logically. 'Father told me I wasn't allowed to bring my Robin uniform but even if I did the citizens would be suspicious. That means...' His eyes landed on the silver ring that was laying peacefully on the coffee table. He reached out and placed it on his right ring finger. It turned a dark grey as a black blur escaped the ring with a green light. It was another kwami, similar to Tikki but it was black and more cat-like. Damian presumed this was 'Plagg', the kwami Tikki talked about earlier. The black kwami yawned and assessed his surroundings in a flash.

"Look-"

"Who are you? Where's Pigtails? How'd you get the miraculous? Do you have any cheese? I'm hungry" Plagg interrupted. The Robin vigilante wasted no time.

"Damian, With an Akuma, She tasked me to take care of the ring and we have better things to worry about your hunger!" He shot back, his voice getting louder after each statement.

"What could be more important than cam... men... bert..." the kwami's voice trailed off as he noticed the screen. Césaire had stopped recording, thank god, but the screen still showed the last frame of the video, it was extremely far from a pretty sight. "This is bad" the kwami panicked.

"Yes, there's no time to lose! Tell me, what do I need to do" he looked at Plagg straight in the eye, showing that he could be trusted.

"To transform you say 'Plagg, Claws Out!'. You have a power you can call upon, 'Cataclysm', and you'll be able to destroy the first object you touch. But it only works once then you have five minutes before you transform back, Make it count!" The kwami was frantic, nothing like this had ever happened before in previous battles.

Damian was already making his way to the balcony "Plagg, Claws Out!" A dark green light engulfed him. He was covered in a black suit, black boots, black gloves with sharp retractable blades, 'Oh how much fun that'll be using them'. He also had a black cape with a hood similar to the one with his Robin costume but instead he had cat ears poking through, a dark grey baton appeared in his hand as well. Almost instantly, he mastered the weapon and launched himself in the direction that Ladybug went earlier. 'I'm on my way Angel. When I get my hands on Hawkmoth, I'll make him suffer. I promise you'

~~~

Ladybug had the situation under control. She had. Something had changed. Hawkmoth must've found a way to boost his powers, it was the only acceptable reason. Otherwise there was no way to penetrate the indestructible suits that the miraculous provided. Yet here she was, forced to watch the horror on her citizens face as a long blade protruded through her chest. The blade held her in the air as she was stabbed from behind. Their expressions, being outsmarted by Hawkmoth and the pain from the injury itself was unbearable for the spotted heroine. She then came to the conclusion that the blade was slowly draining her energy. Hawkmoth planned to have Guerrier collect her miraculous only after watching her suffer. How sickening. 'Hawkmoth, you bitch'

She had to get out of there. She needed to get out of there.

Mustering all the strength she had, she swung her foot at the figure behind her in a strong, hard kick. The long blade was quickly sent back along with the Akuma and Ladybug stumbled forward, one hand on her chest the other swinging her yo-yo to create a shield. Since she was weakened, Guerrier was only sent back a few feet but her kick not only had strength but pure determination. While the Akuma was distracted she looked at the distraught citizens around her.

"For your own safety, please, leave this area!" She tried to sound controlled but instead her voice had a big edge of fear. All the citizens, nonetheless, left. Though, she could see them peaking behind the buildings. Suddenly, Guerrier regained his footing.

Ladybug's eyes shot back in his direction, the nad on her chest clutched into a fist. The miraculous magic was healing her, but it wasn't healing fast enough. She was losing blood. Fast. She tried to use her own powers but that too was draining her energy, the energy couldn't afford lose. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, she could hear it slowing down. She was panicking, she needed energy to call upon her Luck Charm, she needed energy to fight the Akuma and she needed energy she heal herself. She didn't have enough energy for any of that.

As Guerrier began to approach, her blood was luckily never on the blade, she braced herself for another fight and her vision started to get blurry. just as he was about to go for another swing, a dark grey pole shot out of nowhere, sending the Akuma far from Ladybug. Though she couldn't quite see, she recognised the aura that surrounded the black-hooded figure who was now standing defensively in front of her.

'Damian' she didn't have the strength to speak, she hoped that whatever telepathic link they had the other day would appear again now.

'How are you holding up?' The sound of his voice made relief wash over her like a waterfall. She stopped using her energy on her yo-yo and focused on healing her wound instead.

'Better now that you're here' she stumbled onto her knees, knowing it was safe to do so. 'Remember not to hurt the Akuma too much, Hawkmoth is the real villain here'

'I know' his voice echoed in her ears, 'Speaking of the Akuma, where is it?'

Ladybug's eyes snapped open, observing the fight between the cat and Guerrier. She remembered the blade. The blade that the Akuma was holding. The blade that impaled her. 'It's in...' Now filled with an unusual amount of spite, she snarled "The sword, Noir"

The black-cat themed hero understood immediately and, swiftly but carefully, aimed for Guerrier's hand. In the mean time, Ladybug had enough energy to safely call upon her Lucky Charm. She was given a piece of equipment that she had seen Sabrina's father have. She wasn't sure how to use it as it was still in 'testing phase' as said by Officer Raincomprix. Her Ladybug vision then kicked in and the item as well as Guerrier lit up, she knew what to do.

'Get him to attack you in a high guard motion'

The hooded hero understood the demand immediately and used his pole, now transformed into a 'Cat-ana', to get the Akuma frustrated. It worked perfectly as the black fencer had the sword and the blade above his head, ready to swing. Ladybug then used the moment of vulnerability and threw the lucky charm as if it were a boomerang at the Akuma, the two ends with magnets snapped together, holding Guerrier's arms in place. Though she couldn't see his face, she could tell he was mad. Very, very mad.

Not wanting to waste a moment longer, Damian swiftly grabbed the sword by the handle and swept the Akuma's legs so it hit the ground and had no means of escape. "Cataclysm" It was the first thing he had actually said with his voice during the entire battle and Ladybug has to admit, his voice seemed deeper and huskier. The sword in his other hand had disintegrated to dust, the purple butterfly fluttered from the remains. When Damian had first heard of it, he was completely unconvinced something such as a butterfly could cause devastation. But now, he sensed the ghastly energy that reeked from the creature, it was overwhelming. He only broke out of his trance when Ladybug's yo-yo caught the flying organism and he went to the akumatized victim to take the object Ladybug's Lucky Charm had summoned.

He handed her the item and placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her body as she threw it in the air. "Miraculous Ladybug!" A bunch of bright magical ladybugs swarmed around the area, fixing and healing anyone who got injured, Ladybug included. But the pain didn't quite stop, so she clutched her chest where the wound once was. The Akuma, now destransformed, was a person around their age, it appeared that he was rejected from the fencing club. This theory was confirmed when Adrien, Ladybug was too exhausted to notice him, ran about to the boy.

"Maxime! Maître D'Argencourt said you can join the fencing club" Ladybug and the black-cat themed hero didn't bother to hear what the boy said in reply but Damian did speak to Adrien.

"Make sure he gets to where he needs to be, safely, Adrien" the new hero spoke as the ladybug hero fell back with pure exhaustion in his arms. After seeing the blonde nod, Damian carried Ladybug in his arms and not wanting to waste any more time, used his pole to launch them in the direction of the hotel. Adrien watched wearily at the two heroes until they were out of viewing distance.

As soon as Damian landed on his hotel room balcony, both his and Ladybug's transformations fell. He was still carrying her bridal style and walked inside, gently placing her down on the bed, being mindful and anxious about her injury, while Plagg closed the balcony door. Tikki circled her owner who was now drifting in and out of consciousness. He kneeled by the left side of the bed as Tikki used her kwami magic where the wound once was, Plagg slowly floated to hover next to his new chosen. When Marinette's eyes fluttered upon, both kwamis rejoiced and hugged both her cheeks. She moved so that her body was sitting comfortably with her legs in front of her, she then turned her head slightly towards the black-haired boy who was sitting besides her.

"Dami-"

He cut her off with a gentle hug and he made his way to sit beside her. "Malaki..." the perturb and pure solace in his voice made a lump form in Marinette's throat. He buried his face further into her neck. "You scared me damn it"

She let out a humorless chuckle, her hand unknowingly reached to stroke her fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry..."

Damian pulled away and lightly placed his hand to turn her face. He crashed his lips onto hers and Marinette melted into the kiss. He then pulled away but kept his forehead on her's, their breaths mingling. "Don't apologize when you are not at fault". He opened his eyes to look straight at her. "I know the wound itself is gone, but what about the pain?"

She smiled lovingly at him. "The pain's subsided, for now" Marinette pulled her shirt down a bit to inspect the area surrounding her injury. All that remained was a fading bruise where the wound once was. The bluenette let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry I couldn't heal it fully Marinette" Tikki's voice cut in. "This is your first physical injury from a miraculous so I didn't want to put any more strain on your body"

"It's fine and, thank you Tikki" Marinette reached out to pat the small kwami's head.

"Well to bring some good news" Plagg butted in. "We found my true chosen"

"Really?" Marinette tilted her head.

"Yep it's Damian, the lover boy here" the black kwami flew over to make himself comfortable in his black hair, ignoring Damian's growl, almost camouflaged completely. "I can feel the destruction in his soul like how Tikki can feel the creation in yours Pigtails"

"Yep!" Tikki chimed.

"Now that's over with, I want some Camembert" The black kwami kept chanting 'Camembert' and Damian sighed while getting off the bed to order some.

"Is food all you ever think about?"

"I can't control my hunger, Sugarcube!"

The bluenette watched the two kwami's banter, amused, and began to fully process the akuma attack. To think she was so close to death made her terrified, but she tried to think of the positives. Like how she and Damian could communicate without speaking, per se, or how he managed to call upon a weapon she had never seen before, his Cat-ana. She concluded it was the work of true miraculous magic and didn't question it further. She had something else she needed to think about. 'How do we fight Hawkmoth now? Obviously he's found out how to make his akumas stronger but he wouldn't go for the strongest one first without testing it. That would just be stupid. This akuma must've been a trial run' The thought worried her to no end. 'We were able to fight him off today but that doesn't guarantee us the win each time just by ourselves'

Soon, Damian returned with some Camembert and, unexpectedly, some cookies. When both kwamis flew to the plate and eat, the black-haired boy sat back down next to Marinette. "What are you thinking about?"

"If the Akuma today was just a test run to try out his new powers, Hawkmoth's akumas are going to get deadlier" The bluenette stated

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

She was silent for a few seconds, contemplating her answer. "I believe we should have some others join us on the field, as permanent holders" Damian nodded. "But we can deal with that later, right now I'm tired. Hold me please" the bluenette mumbled.

Damian adjusted himself so that Marinette could lay comfortably on his chest. "Rest well, mon cœur" he hummed and the bluenette slowly drifted to sleep, listening to his heartbeat. Damian averted his eyes to the ceiling, now was the time he could unleash a tiny amount of his anger. His hands turned to fists as he resisted the urge to punch the mattress. He blamed himself for Marinette's injury. 'Maybe if I could have convinced her earlier to use the miraculous then maybe she would not have gotten hurt' Damian forced himself not to dwell on the 'what if's and instead focused on the now, on Marinette. He could kill Hawkmoth later.

~~~

Adrien returned home from fencing class. The newest member, Maxime, was first denied entry which resulted in him getting akumatized. The blonde didn't expect the Akuma to be the danger that it was. Usually he would've jumped straight into battle but since he didn't have his miraculous anymore, he was forced to watch. Forced to watch as Ladybug struggled alone, forced to watch as she got injured. He hated not being able to do anything, not being able to save his friend and former partner. Luckily the new black cat stepped in, that was the only good thing he saw throughout the entire battle, except the end of it when the heroes won.

Adrien watched as the new black cat user stepped into battle, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous that he had been replaced so soon but he quickly pushed that feeling away. He wasn't the true user and this new hero probably was, he had no right to any entitlement of the miraculous. The blonde watched in awe at the new cat's fighting style, he looked as if he had been training his entire life for battle. Adrien also didn't fail to notice how Ladybug and the Cat were communicating, non verbally. There may have been words exchanged but Adrien never heard them as he was watching from behind a nearby building. This assumption was correct when Ladybug spoke to the hero verbally.

"The sword, Noir" the snarl coming from Ladybug was frightening to say the least but she did just get stabbed, he couldn't really blame her. The blonde noticed how some citizens around him shivered at the tone of the spotted heroine's voice.

The blonde watched as the new hero, Noir?, fought, more dueled, with Guerrier and couldn't help but be in extreme awe and admiration of this hero's skill. 'Where did Ladybug find him? He's incredible!' Paying even more attention to the battle, Adrien watched as Ladybug used her Lucky Charm to hold the Akuma's arms in place and how Noir swiftly stole the blade.

"Cataclysm"

'Well damn!' Adrien thought.

"His voice is hella attractive, I wanna marry it" he heard a citizen whisper, voicing his own thoughts. Though it did seem bad that that was the only thing they could think about, they had a point.

The usual actions after taking down the Akuma were done, the bright ladybugs healing everything damaged. Adrien ran up to the deakumatized victim.

"Maxime! Maître D'Argencourt said you can join the fencing club" He wanted to distract the boy from the fact that he had done something very wrong during his time of being an akuma, not as if he can remember it anyway. As he was about to leave, he heard Noir's voice again.

"Make sure he gets to where he needs to be, safely, Adrien" The blonde nodded, seeing that Ladybug was exhausted and probably needed to rest. He watched as both heroes bounded away, his gaze resting on where he last saw them both, only snapping out of the trance when Maxime asked what happened.

Adrien hoped that Ladybug wasn't too injured, she's far too valuable and important to be lost, especially at the beginning of, what looks like, Hawkmoth's new rise of power.

"Something tells me things are about to get a lot more serious from here on out"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming, @icerosecrystal, @lolieg, @kashlyn, @mochegato, @eggadoodle, @walkingthroughonautopilot, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @lady-bee-fechin