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File 127657454380.jpg - (874.15KB, 1600x1285, the more you know.jpg) [iqdb]
38898 No. 38898
Here's where you'll find the random SDM-related shorts I decide to write in my spare time when I'm procrastinating on an actual update feeling particularly inspired.

Note these shorts could be anywhere from silly little AFT side-stories you don't see in the main story itself, to strange "what if" scenarios using AFT characters but having nothing to do with the story, or they could just be altogether random stuff. If a particular short is "AFT canon" with regards to the vague plot, I'll let you know.

Happy reading~!
47posts omitted. Last 50 shown. Expand all images
>> No. 44018
Oh an,d Tepes awesome side story.
>> No. 44020
>[raocow]Wow, that was definitely a thing.[/raocow]

You are my new favorite anon.
>> No. 44021
File 12884936528.jpg - (474.09KB, 765x779, 2c54c38dc7fa9c76f6c67a1f13e92ff2.jpg) [iqdb]
Oh god I just got the image of Flandre riding on one of the fairy maids going "stupid horse" and then my brain broke.
>> No. 44023
Flandre goes outside for the first time in years...

"Is that so?"
>> No. 44026
File 128858860682.jpg - (132.83KB, 800x600, 96cbcc89c1c9f874fe40636e30f670c6.jpg) [iqdb]
>Oh god Flandre with a Liverpool accent.
Oh god why I so like this.

Great job as always, Tepes.
>> No. 44030

Do you think you could make a character page? i was trying to write the descriptions for the pinups but i just cant find the time, and a character page would be good anyways....
>> No. 44040
File 128871408935.png - (926.02KB, 2225x1750, 200 yojana in one shot.png) [iqdb]
>Tepes, do you think you could make a character page? I was trying to write the descriptions for the pinups but I just cant find the time, and a character page would be good anyways....
Answering this one first so you can see it easily, Raiker.

I can quite definitely make a character page. The only question is how much detail do you want? Are we talking several paragraphs for each character complete with some important stuff they did in AFT, or a more general one-paragraph description, or would a single sentence be more appropriate? And do you also want a sort of “bio” of information as well, such as alternate names, ages, height, three sizes, power level, and/or personal quote? I’m not entirely sure what you’ve got in mind for these pin-ups, but I’ll be happy to do as much or as little as you think would be best.

>[raocow]Wow, that was definitely a thing.[/raocow]
That is without a doubt the absolute most entertaining video game commentary I have ever had the pleasure of watching. Now I know what to do if I ever get bored or depressed. Thank you for enlightening me.

>"IT'S SPRING!" "Please stop shooting me!"
More like, “IT’S SPRING!”
“Umm… no it’s not, look at all this snow!”
“That just means I need to try harder!”

>shire maiden
One day I might actually stop making these typos. And one day I will probably be diagnosed with dyslexia. I mean I’m twenty-something and I still mix up lowercase b and lowercase d. And apparently lowercase r and lowercase n.

>Too late, you put it on the internet. Flandre has already found it.
Nah, we’ve been over this. I put Flandre back in her box; she’s perfectly safe.

>Why do you think they keep coming on to you, Sakuya?
Because I keep making typos. >>41631

>I was chuckling 100% of the time while reading this mini-story, just for all the commentary your Sakuya had
I’m very glad you were. I mean, come on; we’ve all played Perfect Cherry Blossom. Nobody needs to read a plot-filled story about how that all went down. So you might as well read a character-based story about how that all went down instead.

>(too long to be a short)
Wha? Just because it was split into three posts doesn’t mean it was that long. If you look at the word count you’ll see that it’s still UNDER NINE THOOUUUSAAAAAAANNND!

>I don't think Fran would have done well as she might have problems with The Strongest.
Stop making me wonder what it would have been like for those two to meet in the last post of AFT!

>Interesting touch on Sakuya not being able to fly... or did I misread it?
No, you read right. That’s just me ignoring the sillier parts of ZUN canon again. Reimu has her Hakurei Orbs and Marisa has her broom, but unless Sakuya can find a way to stop time around herself in such a limited way that gravity cannot affect her, there really is no reason why she should be able to fly. Sanae… ehh, lol miracle-hax?

>A wonderful story, and it brought me a lot more closure regarding Joanna. Thank you.
You’re very welcome. Now I just need to bug alternate-universe me to start the full CYOA-version of A Ghost’s Story which characterizes those other ghosts Joanna mentioned that hang around Hakugyokurou, and make sure he doesn’t just steal Flandre’s Seven for their personalities.

>I can't help but picture Francesca dodging Utsuho's giant sun bullets in a panic.
Any funny response I might have made to this is completely overshadowed by that spot-on dialog you just wrote. Well done.

>Sakuya's Pan-Gensokyo Dating Service.
Uggh, no; it sounds like the name of a bad H-doujin. My Remilia’s standards are way too high to accept some shlub off the street, no matter how much plot armor he might have. I mean no offense to any of the several authors whose stories on /sdm/ are basically that.

>>44015 & >>44017
>Perhaps, although I suspect Koishi would say that the all-female mansion combined with her no-sex diktat and homophobia in >>31015 point to clear projection stemming from her closeted status.
>Well yes Koishi would say that. She would say that whether or not it was true. She could just have a low sex drive combined with a traditional upbringing.
Just a little clarification about that scene: Remilia is trying to keep all the fairies “pure”, in multiple meanings of the word. She finds their innocence to be their greatest quality, and doesn’t want said innocence broken by, for example, a misunderstanding of sex, so she’s trying to stop it before it even starts. It’s not indicative of her opinion on the matter, which is a great deal more loose considering the kind of things she probably did while masquerading as royalty in Europe. Not to mention all those comments she keeps making in MVTSK. Bottom line: Remi is most definitely straight and not at all a lesbian. Which says nothing about Flandre, however…

But yes, Koishi would say that~

>Oh god Flandre with a Liverpool accent.
This is wholly acceptable.

I’m glad you didn’t forget your thanks. I hope you’re glad I didn’t forget to thank you for reading and commenting in turn!

>Oh god I just got the image of Flandre riding on one of the fairy maids going "stupid horse" and then my brain broke.
Mine remained intact until just now, when I read this after watching some of Raocow’s stuff, and realized that Flandre playing video games basically would be Raocow. The guy sings along to the background music for crying out loud!

Raocow, you are very cool. Just like Flandre.

>Oh god why I so like this.
Because man it’s like yes.

And thanks for the compliment; I’ll save them all up in a piggy bank and buy… something, with them!
>> No. 44042
Do as much as you want, current drawfag is also a roleplayer so the background can either get him interested in the story or contibute to the drawings.
>> No. 44043
I just figured Sakuya learned some kind of flight spell from the library; if there's a easy to use spell for such a thing, it'd be in the library.
>> No. 44045
>Sakuya's Pan-Gensokyo Dating Service.
>Uggh, no; it sounds like the name of a bad H-doujin. My Remilia’s standards are way too high to accept some shlub off the street, no matter how much plot armor he might have. I mean no offense to any of the several authors whose stories on /sdm/ are basically that.
No no; while I agree the name needs a lot of work, the point isn't to accept but to humorously reject. Sakuya (boke) suggests the idea and starts bringing people while Remilia (tsukkomi) pithily shoots down each in turn, sometimes with an assist from the person in question. No charisma breaks because that's stupid.
>> No. 44046

Dunno about Tepes, but your use of these words are not helping your case with me, since I have always found Japanese standup comedy supremely unfunny.
>> No. 44047
Eh, it was a silly idea anyway. I will say that I'm looking forward to more shorts as Tepes gets the chance and inclination to write them, especially the one about the underground. One of Tepes's strengths is in characterization, and I'd like to see his take on the remaining Chireiden inhabitants.
>> No. 44170
I didn't finish the full bio on any of the original characters, but time's getting tighter and I figured I'd better throw up what I've got before I forget. Maybe your friend is planning to draw during the break or something; I don't know.

+ + + + + + + + + +

Meiling Hong – Serene Silent Guardian
Also known as: China
Age: 511
Height: 6’ – 1”
Abilities: Five centuries of martial arts training; superhuman physical strength and endurance; manipulation of a being’s inner energy, or “chi”
Personality: Calm and collected; helpful but not outgoing.
Explanation: Meiling is in change of the grounds and gate of Remilia’s mansion; essentially she is to the outside what Sakuya is to the inside. Though she is “technically” the gatekeeper, the mansion never receives visitors, and thus she spends most of her time aiding the fairies in their work, practicing tai chi, or silently reflecting upon her past, present, and future. Not even Meiling herself knows exactly what she is. She was born a human with perfectly human abilities, but over time simply kept getting stronger and stronger beyond even Remilia’s level of physical power.
She is, like Patchouli, somewhat reserved and keeps to herself most of the time. Unlike Patchouli, however, she isn’t adverse to making friends and giving heartening advice to those around her. When trouble arises—literal or figurative—she is quick to help, and seems to always know just what to say or do. While Sakuya is more of a big sister figure, the fairies look to Meiling as a sort of mother, someone to run to when confused and troubled.

Koakuma – Dainty Disgruntled Devil
Also known as: Lilligan
Age: Unknown; between 1000 and 2000
Height: 4’ - 9”
Abilities: Non-euclidean true form; limited magical attacks; can morph body parts into tendrils, claws, and various weapons
Personality: Antagonistic, constantly demeaning, and extremely pessimistic
Explanation: This extraplanar spirit lives in a strange parallel realm of chaotic blurs incomprehensible to all but the natives of the land. It, and others like it, have been summoned by sorcerers throughout the ages to be slaves, warriors, concubines, and the like. While on the Earth they have no ability to do anything but what their summoners allow them to; as such, they detest humanity to no end, but can never rebel against it.
This particular spirit’s hatred goes one step further; in its long life it has been forced to experience the length and breadth of earthly depravity, from its most base sexual practices, to its most bloodthirsty inclinations, and its utter inability to be trusted. This spirit has found only one solace: tactlessly proclaiming the flaws and sins of all those around it. While it is a pointless gesture in the long run, it has come to the conclusion that if it cannot be at peace, its masters should not be allowed to either.
After months of preparation, Patchouli Knowledge summoned the spirit to Remilia’s mansion and gave it the affectionate name “Koakuma”, Japanese for “little devil”. Though the two share a tentative peace with each other due to an unfathomable risk on the professor’s part, Koakuma is in no mood to change its entire life’s outlook due to a single act of kindness. That won’t stop the fairies of the mansion from trying, however.

Patchouli Knowledge – Magical Professor Emeritus
Also known as: Patricia Ray Chalmers
Age: 100
Height: 5’ – 6”
Abilities: Limited immortality via the Philosopher’s Stone; extraordinary intelligence; vast array of magical spells of all kinds.
Personality: Calculative and reserved; keeps her emotions to herself
Explanation: Doctor Patricia Chalmers was a highly-esteemed British professor in the early 20th century, until her fascination with magic and myth caused her to leave the civilized world and changed her name to Patchouli Knowledge, one of the very few left on Earth who could truthfully call themselves a “sorceress”. She met the lady Remilia by chance during a countrywide expo, and after putting her old life behind her she joined the strange woman in her mansion in the wilderness.
Patchouli, despite her magical inclinations, is a scientist before all else. She performs her mystic experiments with clinical precision and calibrated variables, studying cause and effect so as so replicate her findings and thus unlock the mysteries of the arcane which all others have told her is an effort in futility. It borders on an obsession that decades upon decades have been dedicated to, and she studies magic now simply to prove to herself that her entire life has not been lived in vain.
Though her exterior is harsh and mathematical, her soul is as capable of emotion as anyone else’s. She’s experienced her share of joy and hardship back when she was Patricia, and for the most part tries to keep the past in the past, for the sake of her work and her friends. However, if the occasion calls she will be quick to remind anyone that she is NOT the stereotypical bookworm she might be taken for at a first glance.

Sakuya Izayoi – Hapless Maid of Time Infinite
Age: 201
Height: 5’ – 7”
Abilities: Exceptional skill with small blades, thrown blades, and handguns; ability to manipulate time relative to herself; will never age past nineteen years old
Personality: Hard-working and cheerful, but rather forgetful.
Explanation: Sakuya Izayoi is a quaint woman. She possesses the ability to slow down, speed up, or even stop time; a nigh-invincible power. With that being said, she’s a complete scatterbrain. As Remilia’s head maid she tries her hardest to keep the mansion running smoothly. She’s always attempting to multitask two dozen jobs at once, and even though she constantly writes memos to herself, she keeps forgetting what tasks she’s right in the middle of. This lack of focus also means she often misses the most obvious of problems right in front of her nose, because she’s too busy thinking about all the work she needs to do. She’s only human, after all.
Good worker or poor, Sakuya has a pure heart and a rather positive attitude when she can find time to pull herself away from work. She often comes in close contact with the various fairy maids of the house, and they look up to her as a sort of “big sister” figure. She wishes often that she could be a better mentor, but lacks the self-confidence to do so due to her constant mistakes.

Remilia – Europe’s Blood-Red Rose
Also known as: Henrietta the Second
Age: 493
Height: 4’ – 3”
Abilities: Vampiric powers (superhuman strength/agility/healing, turn into mist/bats, limited control over wild animals, limited magical persuasive powers over weak-willed targets); ability to control and direct fate over long periods of time
Personality: Elegant and egotistical, but mindful of her friends’ well-being
Explanation: Remilia is a vampire by birth, born to the reigning king and queen of Navarre, a small region between present-day France and Spain. As pure-blooded vampire children are exceedingly rare, the family had aspirations to band their strength together once Remilia grew old enough, and expand their reign to all of Europe. Unfortunately, due to her parents’ untimely death and Euorpe’s constant political turmoil, Remilia was forced to abandon her homeland and seek better fortunes elsewhere. Though at times she was able to marry herself into royalty using her vampiric powers of persuasion, she was never truly able to return to the grandeur she once had with her parents as a child, and eventually resigned herself to a quiet life far away from civilization in the British countryside.
At a first glance she seems nothing more than a royal spoiled brat who believes herself to always be at the topmost rung of the ladder. While this is not far from the truth, her long life and constant hardships taught her humility and the value of friends over material possessions and temporary satisfaction. She holds herself as the “queen” of the mansion and considers it her responsibility to keep everyone inside it safe, cared for, and happy. And while classically trained in propriety and elegance, she displays a certain knack for sarcasm and snide double-entendres.

Flandre – Friendly Neighborhood Lunatic
Also known as: Françoise d'Albret
Age: 488
Height: 4’ – 1”
Abilities: Enhanced vampiric powers (unfathomable strength/agility/healing, turn into mist/bats/duplicates of herself, limited control over wild animals, limited magical persuasive powers over weak-willed targets); ability to see the weak point of any object and destroy it with magical energy
Personality: Eccentric and talkative; has trouble differentiating reality and fantasy
Explanation: Flandre has problems. Lots of problems. She’s definitely psychotic, probably schizophrenic, has an extremely broken brain-mouth filter, hears and sees things that are only hallucinations, and also does not exactly have a very firm grasp on the concept of a rational conversation. She’s also a vampire, can blow things up by staring at it, and looks like she’s about nine years old, so that doesn’t help much either.
Pseudo-insanity aside, she’s actually not that bad. She is well aware of her instabilities and for the most part stays in her basement room to minimize the damage she might do. She’s extremely playful and bouncy, never ceasing to make little niche jokes of all flavors. For a nearly-quincentennial vampire who rarely leaves her own room, Flandre is well-with the times, too; debating the relative value of movies and video games is a favorite pastime of hers. Propriety has no meaning to her; she’ll do as she pleases, when she pleases, and without warning. Which is why she always makes sure to have a specially-chosen fairy maid with her to provide her with the perspective that she lacks.

Koishi “Kay” Komeiji – Blind Wanderer of Heartless Love
Age: Unknown
Height: 5’ – 1”
Abilities: Ability to see and manipulate one’s subconscious thoughts; limited invisibility and perfect stealth based on aforementioned manipulation
Personality: Utterly emotionless; sees everyone as a toy or a puzzle to play with
Explanation: “Kay” is a creature called a satori, a magical Japanese race with the ability to read the minds of those around them. For an unknown reason and using an unknown method, however, Koishi has rejected that ability and sealed away her own heart, rendering her completely devoid of any emotions. Contrary to the common idea of heartless beings languishing away in silence and pointlessness, Koishi’s emotionlessness has made her extremely curious, like a young child with no morals, understanding nothing. Combined with her strange ability to see and manipulate the subconscious, she is an enigma incarnate, coming and going before anyone even knows she was there, seeing almost everything but saying almost nothing.
One person out of a hundred million will catch her special attention, though, and it is there when the real danger begins. She will investigate them, play with them, and try to understand what makes them so unique, all to satiate her strange curiosity. But her heartless soul cannot comprehend anything but ethereal questions and unfeeling answers, and the person of her interest will likely be driven hopelessly insane by her meddling before they can even comprehend she was there to begin with.

Sunhilda Sunday – Daughter of China’s Dragon
Entered mansion in: 1913
Height: 4’ – 11”
Abilities: Exceptional martial arts; musical genius
Personality: Optimistic and light-hearted; loves to joke around
Appearance: Very “human-like” with an athletic figure. Cherry-red hair longer than shoulder length, held back with a headband. Has fairy wings, but they’re rather small in comparison to other fairies. Wears white pants and a green tunic rather than a maid uniform.

Monica Monday – Infant Petunia Blossom
Entered mansion in: 1995
Height: 3’ – 1”
Abilities: Extraordinarily fast flight
Personality: Timid and flighty; has low self-confidence
Appearance: Very “fairy-like” and looks much like a storybook fairy. Not merely short; she is small. Short bubblegum-pink hair, pink eyes, and pink wings. Wears a pink maid’s uniform (no surprise).

Tullia Tuesday – Fey’s Matriarch Knight
Entered mansion in: 1776
Height: 4’ – 0”
Abilities: Exceptional martial arts and armed combat experience; ability to create magical barriers
Personality: Motherly and caring; thinks of others before herself
Appearance: Slightly stockier than other fairies, but by no means obese or overweight. Has a rather round and cheery face. Platinum-blond hair tied up in a bun behind her. Wears the standard grey-blue maid uniform.

Wendy Wednesday – Tree Without a Forest
Entered mansion in: 1987
Height: 4’ – 2”
Abilities: Limited manipulation of plant material
Personality: Antisocial and dark; refuses to let the past go
Appearance: Very wild looking and dour. Nut-brown skin, dark brown eyes, and tangled black hair. Wings look like flattened sheets of jagged crystal. Somewhat muscular as far as fairies go. Wears earth-colored pants and vest.

Thérèse Thursday – Girl of a Million Shapes
Entered mansion in: 1885
Height: ????
Abilities: Extremely adaptable shape-shifting ability
Personality: Quirky and imaginative, never takes anything seriously

Francesca Friday – Great Questioner and Understander
Entered mansion in: 1988
Height: 4’ – 0”
Abilities: Sometimes being perfectly average is the greatest ability of all…
Personality: Curious and inquisitive; always seeks to grow wiser and braver
Appearance: An unimposing stature. Long, bushy hair with mixed blonde and grass-green strands, tied in a poor ponytail. An unsure face peppered with freckles. Wears the standard grey-blue maid uniform.

Sapphire Saturday – Young Vampire of the Aether
Entered mansion in: 1876 (vampirized 1976)
Height: 4’ – 5”
Abilities: Limited vampiric powers (increased strength/agility/healing, turn into mist/bats)
Personality: Businesslike, somewhat elitist; aspires for greatness
Appearance: Regal. Long, wavy indigo-brown hair that ripples and shines like water. A sharp face. Magenta eyes, fangs, and bat wings indicative of her half-vampiric nature. Wears a deep purple skirt and blouse with silver threading.

Natasha Joanna Herod – VanHellsing’s Last Pupil
Age: 35
Height: 5’ – 10”
Abilities: Proficiency with firearms and armed combat
Personality: Zealous and quick to judge; believes magic is an abomination
Appearance: Dirty brown wavy hair, shoulder-length. A hard, older-looking face with hazel eyes. A more “realistic” body as befitting her human nature and mid-thirties age.
>> No. 44181
File 129015337198.png - (453.42KB, 503x568, 44553e6fe1ae8460aad0a60fea54a100.png) [iqdb]
Awesome, I like this.
>> No. 44185
i really appreciate it, with any luck i should be delivering this plus the 4koma scripts to the drawfag tonight, let's see what comes up´.
>> No. 44825
File 12983097385.jpg - (506.02KB, 1024x1024, I heard it said that a cat was fine too.jpg) [iqdb]
Remember how I said I used to write shorts? Like, a million years ago or something? Yeah, I still do that. Sort of.

This’ll probably be the last AFT-related thing I write for the foreseeable future; sorry, but it’s so not the end of the world it’s not even funny. I dawdled on it for far too long and, as always, I feel like I could have done a better job on it, but it fulfills the purpose it set out to serve, and so I am satisfied with it. So there you go.

Sadly, I decided not to write a Flandre and Koishi scene in this one, as much as I wanted to. The short was already getting far too long by the time I cut it off, and it felt entirely out of place compared to the rest of it. Plus I’d have probably gotten distracted again and never end up writing it. Feel free to use your imaginations, because there is seriously no limit to the weirdness those girls will pull when they’re together without supervision.


In a house underground, there lived a cat. Not that she was a very normal cat, any more than it was a very normal house, or a very normal underground. Truth be told she was so long-lived, so experienced, so human in appearance as to hardly be called a cat at all. But in this land of Gensokyo, in the land of magic and monsters, heart and soul are ever so much more important than body and mind in defining who one is. And at heart, and in soul, she was a cat.

She was Rin to those who knew her in passing, and Orin to those who knew her best. It might be said of her that her job was to ferry dead bodies and lost spirits, but if one is to be honest this was hardly a job so much as a guideline. A cat has no job except to comfort and console her mistresses, and in this she had ever excelled.

A time came, however, when the younger of her mistresses became more restless than usual. Of course everyone in the house knew that the young sister was, to be liberally polite, “rather odd”, but even in her eccentricities there was a norm she tended always to drift towards, and in those days she had drifted away from it. Worry began to creep into Rin’s heart. Of experience she had plenty, but of intelligence she fell somewhat short, for even the greatest of cats is still, at heart, a cat. She had known the young mistress for years and years again, grown used to her oddities and her lackadaisical outlook on life. Why now did she seem so restless? Why did she now begin to look out the window seemingly at random, gazing up at the dark ceiling of an underground sky? Why did she leave the house so often and yet return so quickly, when in the past she would disappear for months at a time without a word? Why did she seem sadder than usual, and yet at the same time more joyful than she ever had before? The cat took comfort in the familiar and the normal, in what she knew was good and full of happiness. To her, the different was unknown, and the unknown was to be feared.

But still… hope. In the unknown, she still felt hope. Hope, that the reason she was restless was a good reason. Oh how many nights, how many years had she wished that her young mistress would be healed of her melancholy, that she would no longer feel the need to abandon her home, her family, for the sake of an empty curiosity no one understood. Her elder mistress hoped with her, praying for the day when they could be true sisters once more rather then acting as little more than “acquaintances”.

The days dragged on like this, week after week and month after month, until the house had all but accepted the young mistresses’ strange behavior as the new norm. Rin remained ever curious of what had caused her to change, considering that the change was neither for the better nor for the worse. She perked her ears at any innocuous tidbit of information the young lady let slip about her unusual demeanor, no matter how vague or unimportant. And for all her months of trouble, she discovered only one concrete thing: someone important was coming, and coming very soon. Of course, for a cat, “soon” is never soon enough, and soon she forgot all about “soon”.

It was a day like any other day, as if there even were days that were unlike any other day in that secluded underground house. The lady Rin was working hard, though hardly working, shooing meddlesome spirit wisps from the mistress’s gardens and sending them on their rightful way. She would keep at it for another hour or so, check in with her best friend down below, play a few games of whatever they’d decide to play that day, and then while the rest of her waking hours away in the company of the mistresses. Just another pleasant day in the life of a cat.

And then “they” showed up. Out of nowhere, just like that. “They” strolled slowly down the old palace road, the road that Rin could have counted on both hands the number of people that came down it yearly. Three of them, just three little girls, though one was more than enough to make her nervous. The lesser pets began to scatter almost instantly at the sight and scent of the invaders, running behind the boulders and old pillars strewn about what passed for a front lawn in the land without a sun. Rin’s heart was of a similar disposition, though her feet stood firm. After all, If she didn’t stand up for her younger brothers and sisters and show them how adults handled things, who would?

“They” seemed to notice the conspicuous cat, and slowed their progression to a halt, giving her a wide berth as she stared at them from between the rows of strange otherworldly flowers. They were all quite short in her eyes, strangely dressed with lacey dresses and lacey hats. What odd wings they all had; this one’s like a bat, this one’s like a butterfly, and this one’s… Those hardly looked like wings at all, really. People that smelled of the above-ground… very suspicious.

Rin glared at the strangers without saying a word, back turned to them and head cocked over her shoulder. The one with the not-wings stepped forwards and bowed, looking at a small leaf of paper clutched in one hand.

“Umm… hi, Miss Orin. This is, Flandre, I guess… Is, uhh, is Koishi, home?”

The cat continued to look at her wordlessly. Who was this girl? She could hardly have looked more out of place, Rin had certainly never seen her before, and here she was talking like she was an old friend of the house? It wasn’t exactly common knowledge that Mistress Satori even had a sister. And what gave her the right to be calling her Orin, anyways?

“…Do I know you?” Rin asked skeptically, finally turning around to face the strangers properly.

The Flandre-girl fingered her ponytail nervously, not very enthusiastic about making eye contact. “No, not… not really. I guess not at all, actually. I’m a… friend, of Koishi’s. She said I should… visit, some day.”

Rin found herself walking slowly closer to the odd party of three, curiosity rising. “Koishi don’t exactly… have, friends, y’know.”

“I, I know, I know she doesn’t, but… I, still am. She, she wrote me a note. Even drew cute little pictures on it. You’re in it too, see? She drew a little cat-ears-face-girl. It says it right here: Orin~”

The oddities of the situation continued to pile and pile, quickly overriding Rin’s former caution as she crept over to the piece of paper in Flandre’s outstretched hand. She eyed it suspiciously, caught its scent; smelled enough like the underground, at least. It was definitely Koishi’s handwriting, detailing a rather obscure set of directions to travel from above-ground to the underground and then to… She didn’t believe it; there really were pictures drawn on that note? Okuu’s hair wasn’t nearly that messy in real life.

“She gave this to ya’?” Rin wondered out loud, staring intensely at the note with intrigue.

Flandre shrugged. “Well, she… I, found it on my desk this morning, just kinda sittin’ there all like, ‘yeah, hi, me again.’ I think she’s been hiding from me ever since I said I was going to kill her. Such a silly girl~”

“You’re going to kill Miss Koishi?! DIE-YOU-MONSTER!” Rin instantly jumped backwards and drew a nearby spirit wisp into her hand, poised to strike at the malefactor with all the ferocity a true hellcat had to offer. Before even another wisp had answered her call to arms, though, the butterfly-girl stepped in between them, waving her arms and shouting apologetically in some strange language that made no sense.

Author’s Note: The following spoiler-tagged text is spoken in English. The story is told from Rin’s perspective, and thus she can’t understand it, but it has been translated for your convenience.

No no, no no-no-no-no she didn’t mean it she didn’t mean it, stop stop stop! I mean, oohhh, umm… Stop! Stop no! Girl Flandre, she, uhh, she bad not!”

The flame-haired feline glared daggers at the strange, small girl in front of her. “Who’re you supposed to be?”

She paused for a few seconds, looking almost like she didn’t understand the question, before responding frantically with, “Y-You? You, me… me… Me, I am, Francesca! Friend, friend fairy, thank you very much!”

Raising an eyebrow at the little fairy, Rin glanced over to the third girl who was currently shaking her head into an upraised palm. “Hey-hey, you in the back! Tell me what the hell’s goin’ on or bad things’re gonna happen!”

Uggh, I swear I’m dealing with children here… No one here is trying to kill anyone, young lady. My sister Flandre met Miss Koishi by chance, a long time ago. They are for lack of a better term ‘friends’, and in my opinion they are both out of their bloody minds. They make the worst jokes I’ve ever heard at the very least. The fairy’s Francesca; she’s harmless, I assure you.”

“Why’re you here?!”

“Just a visit, miss, just a visit. Miss Koishi no doubt knows we’re coming.”

Her eyes shifted from one strange girl to the next, thoroughly confused by that point. They seemed nice enough, but… she didn’t really know. Taking a few deep breaths she waved the cantankerous wisp away and tried to calm herself down; she didn’t particularly like the prospect of fighting anyways.

You are Mistress Koishi’s… friend?” Rin asked herself out loud, pointing towards Flandre’s general direction.

Flandre returned the gesture. “That was a question, or a statement?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!”

The little fairy started massaging her temple as she leaned over and whispered to the third girl. “I told you bringing me wasn’t gonna work out; my Japanese is horrible! They’re talking too fast!

Nothing we can do about that, Fran,” Flandre interrupted abruptly. “It is Friday, after all. Our hands are tied, you know, all nice and pretty with a bow, or maybe that stupid string that Eye of Koishi-girl’s is attached to, and what’s up with that anyways, really, I mean it just looks stupid floating there like some kind of balloon. I’d pop it but she probably already did that when she gave up on life, and now she’s just making everyone think that it’s really there when it’s actually not, because no sane person would bother to touch it anyways. Remind me to kiss it and make it all better the next time I see her, kay?

“Hey, I’m still here!” Rin shouted indignantly, not particularly enjoying being left out of what must have been an extremely important explanation regarding the three girls’ master plan. “Stop talkin’ in that craaazy language already!”

“But it’s ridiculously difficult to learn and breaks all its own rules twice!” the blonde whined as she folded her arms in front of her. “Anyways, can we, like, just pretend that we’re actually really nice people who are also pretty cool and it’s no problem if we stay for tea? You do still drink tea down here, right?”

The conversation was fast-approaching a level beyond which Rin really didn’t think she’d be able to keep up with, certainly not if this funnywings girl kept talking as fast and as inanely as she already was. She followed Francesca’s example and started holding her forehead.

“I, think I should just take to see Mistress,” she finally responded, spinning around on her heels. “This is gettin’ way too confusing… Come on, follow me.”

Smiling glowingly, Flandre leaned over and gave Francesca a friendly one-armed hug. “And thuswise, the victory has become of ours~

The young one stared back at her, eyebrows definitely skeptical. “Is that supposed to be what the pigtails-girl said or something?

Remilia sighed yet again as she lightly pushed her two companions forwards, urging them to follow the cat. “It’s supposed to be my sister, being my sister. I’d have thought you of all people would be used to it by now.

Well, yeah, but… It’s Flandre, Remilia.

Do I detect a possible hint of resentment in that there word-speak you’re all up ons, Francine?!


Excellent! Moving onwardly!

Rin continued to glance back at the overworld trio as she led them up the stone path to the great Earth Palace’s front door. Truthfully it was hardly very great or very palatial anymore in that day and age, but it wasn’t very hard to impresses a cat, and the picturesque stained glass windows remained as beautiful as they had in centuries past. She caught sight of her younger brothers and sisters peeking out from their hiding places, unsure as to whether or not they should trust these intruders if Big Sister Orin was.

“So where are all you ladies from, anyways?” the twintailed cat asked, getting a little nervous at their constant chatter in a language she hadn’t a clue about. “What language is that, is that English?”

“It is, Miss Orin,” Remilia replied. “Coincidentally we are even from England… originally. It’s quite a long story.”

Orin pouted angrily at her. “Hey, I’m not lettin’ you get away with that, my name’s not Orin! It’s Rin, Kaenbyou Rin! Buuuut that name’s too long, so it’s just Rin to you weird people!”

“I like Orin; it’s cute~” Flandre cooed, smiling innocently as she folded her hands behind her back. “Can I scratch you behind the ears~?”

“No ya’ can’t!” Noticing the little fairy trying to hide behind the sisters, Rin added, “So what’s her problem, anyways? Awful quiet back there, aren’t ya?”

Francesca caught sight of Rin’s pearly claw pointed at her and did her best to put on a smiling face, though she kept shaking her head. “I… I, no… no, uhhh… Japanese, no… Miss Remi, what’s the Japanense word for speak again?

“She doesn’t speak Japanese very well,” Remilia answered for her. “But, she still wanted to come, to learn more about your Ms. Koishi. You might say she’s become somewhat of a legend around our house.”

“Myrrr… Myth, more like,” the cat answered as she led them under the doorless arch that served as a front door to the building. Once a grand palace honoring Earth itself, the house’s ceilings were tall and its rooms vast. The interior was Western in style and build, though the walls and nearly all the furniture were made of polished stone rather than wood like the overworlders might have been accustomed to. Glass-covered torches sparsely peppered the walls, but a strange, almost magical yellow-orange ambiance seemed to be the predominant light source, shining through the stained glass and bathing the foyer with colors. Instructing the women to wait patiently while she fetched the master, Rin dashed up the wide spiral stair and through the hallways into her older mistress’s room.

“S-Satori!” she exclaimed, bursting into the room in a very catlike manner. “Satori, there’s, there’s people here! From, from upside! She, she she she, she says she knows Miss Koishi!”

The lilac-haired woman, seemingly prepared for the outburst, calmly set down the needlework she’d been working on. Rin was one of the few pets in the house to comprehend that Satori could see into the minds and hearts of others, but had never really bothered to act any differently around her. She recalled Satori saying once that the hearts of animals like herself were “different”, but whether that meant she couldn’t look into them or not made very little difference to a simple-minded cat like herself. Regardless, it always seemed the next thing to impossible to surprise her.

“Visitors from above-ground?” she asked as if she was actually confused. “Well now, that’s something I wasn’t expecting today.”

“The, the girl!” Rin continued excitedly, “The one with the diamond wings! She said she’s Koishi’s friend! That’s gotta be a lie, right?! I mean, Koishi, she’s… y’know…”

Satori looked into Rin’s eyes, curiosity mixed with confusion. “…Indeed,” was all she said as her eyebrows furrowed. For far longer than Rin was comfortable with her mistress remained seated in her marble chair, thinking about things only she would think about. It worried her… Satori always knew what to do. She was just like that, heart-reading or no heart-reading. Rin crept closer, looking small and meek compared to the seated lady, though they were both about the same height. Eventually an accepting smile returned to Satori’s face, and she stroked her pet’s hair reassuringly.

“Well then, we should offer some hospitality to our new guests, whoever they are. It’s been such a long time since we’ve gotten company, hasn’t it Orin?”

“Well… yeah, it has~ I wish them Onis’d visit more, the kids love playin’ with em’!”

Satori only smiled and patted Rin’s hair again before standing up and walking with her out the door. It never mattered what was going on, or what the problem was; when she was with her mistresses, everything was just fine. Whoever these weird overground women were, Satori would know just what to do, and everything would work out just fine.

The pair reached the top of the stairs and slowly made their way down, Rin trailing behind Satori obediently. The mistress had walked down these steps so many times she had no need to keep her eyes open as she traversed them, leaving her mind free to focus on that third eye of hers, which gazed at the strange women from afar. Orin sincerely hoped none of them knew just what Satori was doing with it; so very, very many people had been scared away from her house as soon as they realized just what the elder mistress was, and it always hurt the cat a little to think about how lonely Miss Satori really was. Rin caught the little fairy point at the eye and start whispering to the bat-wings girl, but that blonde… that blonde one was staring right back at it, red eyes as unblinking as the red eye of Satori’s.

The cat nearly bumped into her mistress’s back, not realizing how staggered her progression had become. For the last ten seconds at least Satori had intermittently began to slow down mid-step, speed up as if to pretend nothing had happened, and then stop again. Her hand was tense against the stone banister, breath short and catching in her throat. Rin could nearly smell the sudden tension come over her dear mistress. She couldn’t see her face, and could only imagine how odd it must have looked. Nervously wringing one of her crimson braids, she wondered… just what was she seeing in that girl’s heart? She wasn’t… dangerous, was she…?

Quizzical steps aside, it wasn’t until Satori had reached the last few stairs and gotten a true face-to-face look with the one called Flandre that she stopped altogether, one hand pressed over her mouth in disbelief. Rin only dared to step so far ahead as to make sure her mistress was okay, then meekly bided her time, keeping quiet and still like a good little kitty should.

“It… It, is, you,” Satori finally said, in an astonished whisper. “Y-You… It, really is you. You’re… real…

No one else dared speak, not even Flandre. A tear slowly welled up in Satori’s left eye, followed briefly by its mirror image in the other. She crept forwards down the stairs and onto the ground, voice faltering, each step taken with the hesitant reservation of one afraid that her dream will vanish into thin air.

“She… She, talked, of someone… for months. Months… I, I thought, she was lying… sh-she… so, so many lies… Thought, it was just, another, game… And, now… you’re here. You’re… real. Sh-she, was… t-telling the, truth… She, she finally found, a… a…”

Unable to hold herself together any longer, Satori ran the last few steps forwards and collapsed onto the diamond-winged girl’s shoulder, sobbing tears of joy without reservation. The bystanders remained speechless, motionless, barely even able to understand the emotional transaction the two women were sharing as Flandre pulled Satori close to her chest.

“Y-you, you d-don’t know what it’s like… w-w-watching her,” she cried, embracing Flandre as tightly as she could, reassuring herself that this was really happening. “I, I n-never thought this day would come… I’d, given up h-hope…”

Flandre nodded, beginning to cry herself. “I know, I, I know… I, I found her; it was a… an accident. Never, she never said it, but… I, knew. I knew she thought I was her… friend. Best… best friend.”

“Th… Thank y-you. If you never hear it from her, p-please, hear it from me. Thank you… Thank you for caring.”

Flandre nodded, supporting the crying woman’s five-foot frame without so much as a shift in balance. Rin was transfixed by the pair, hands raised to her chin in uncertainty, wondering if she should be comforting her master or not. This kind of emotion… she’d nearly forgotten that Satori was even capable of it. She was the kindest, most loving, most secure person Orin had ever met, and yet she’d only ever see her truly cry or laugh with her heart when her sister was involved. And for as long as the cat could remember, there had never really been much reason to smile as far as Mistress Koishi was involved…

For what was easily minutes the two women, complete strangers to each other yet linked inseparably through the life of a third, did nothing but cry and laugh and cry again in each other’s arms, finally realizing the end of a long, long journey. Remilia and the little fairy whispered to each other in that unobtainable English Rin had no hope of understanding, leaving her feeling quite left out. It wasn’t long before she gave up on waiting and crept up to sit next to her mistress’s feet, looking upwards hopefully.

Once Satori had finally seemed to have cried her tears dry, Flandre gently stood her back up on her own two feet. Demurely, but with an unshakable conviction, she asked her, “May… I go and see her?”

The lilac-locked lady smiled and nodded her head, looking almost like she was going to cry again. “Please… please. She’s, upstairs; I’m sure… sure you can find her, Miss Flandre.”

Nodding back, Flandre drifted away from the rest of them, looking back at her sister as she placed a childlike hand on the stone railing of the staircase. She said nothing, not even so much as a bob of the head, but somehow Rin could tell… She could tell the two strange sisters understood each other perfectly. And then, she was gone, padding up the steps faster and faster until she turned the corner and vanished from sight.

“S… Satori…” Orin mewed meekly, looking up at her mistress with wide eyes. “Did, you know that lady, from before…?”

The lilac mistress rested an unsteady hand on her pet’s head, looking up at the empty staircase with peace-filled eyes. “Yes, Orin… I know her very well. She is… welcome, here.”
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Turning back to her guests as she wiped the last of the tears from her face, Satori managed a rather uneasy grin. “Aaaahh, where are my manners, forgive me… Welcome to my home.”

“It is a honored thing indeed, to be welcomed,” Remilia replied, curtseying politely as Francesca did the same. “As a stranger in a strange land, I am grateful for whatever hospitality I may receive. Thank you, my lady.”

“Komeiji, please,” she replied, bowing her head. “Our sisters have become inseparable right under our noses; I am the one in your debt, Ms. Remilia. But, dear me, manners again… Would you care for some tea? Or sake, perhaps?”

“I don’t suppose you have any red wine?”

Satori smiled. “Ahh, yes, yes, of course; you’re European, after all. Follow me; I’m sure I can find something to your liking.”

Rin followed her mistress obediently as the two guests followed her in turn. She sighed, the presence of so many guests making her realize just how empty their home often was. Though there was never of shortage of pets of all shapes and sizes roaming through the halls, they seemed petty compared to the enormous voids of space above their heads, populated only by stained glass, ancient tapestries, and the occasional wayward spirit the hellcat would later need to shoo out. What she wouldn’t have given for just a cozy little cottage somewhere where the rooms were always full of colors and scents and friends and family. And grass… Orin had heard of this “grass” the surface world had, like a soft green carpet across the whole ground. She thought… yes; grass was something that she would like to have.

The pair of winged girls were ushered to a modest-yet-comfortable sitting room for the time being as the cat followed her mistress into the pantry for Remilia’s requested wine, as well as a few other tidbits to make this visit seem like less business and more pleasure.

“What… what was that all about, Miss Satori?” Rin asked curiously now that the two of them were alone.

Satori sighed happily once more, rubbing her pet’s shoulder as she read the dates on her house’s meager wine rack. “The, the answer to a very long question, Orin dear.”

“Hwah…? Whazzat s’possed to mean?”

“I think… our Koishi has finally found someone that she is trying to love.”

Rin’s breath caught in her throat at the answer. Koishi… “B-but, you said, you said she couldn’t, that she, didn’t know how…”

“She knew how,” Satori responded, setting a scarlet bottle aside and looking into the cat’s eyes. “It seems like she might finally be trying to remember that she did.”

Rin pondered upon this proposal as Satori continued to place various refreshments on a thin bronze tray. She knew Mistress Koishi well, better than most. A smiling face and a cheerful voice, disguising a heart that was so empty it had no more life in it than the stone their house rested on. She had always been told to never give up, to never stop loving Koishi with all her heart, even if the soulless sister never responded likewise. They all knew—Okuu, herself, all the little ones—they could all feel how deaf Koishi’s ears were to their words of kindness. But why now? And why this complete stranger? What had this Miss Flandre been able to do that the friends and family of Koishi’s own home couldn’t?

“I, don’t understand… Who is she? That Flan girl? Why her?”

“Because they are… alike,” Satori replied, picking up the tray and balancing it carefully. “Miss Flandre is… broken, dear. Her heart is strong, but her mind… her mind is shattered, in ways that only Koishi can truly understand. Perhaps it’s—no, I’m certain—it’s what caught my sister’s attention in the first place. But Flandre… that, dear woman, she… she knew. Maybe not all at once, but… she saw a girl as broken and as lonely and as in need of a friend as herself. They, need each other, Orin, more than you could know. More than I know.”

“Does… this mean that K’wishi’s eye’s gonna open up again…?” Orin asked hopefully as she cemented herself in Satori’s shadow once more.”

“It means that a part of her wants it too… I just don’t think she knows it yet.”

The subterranean girls’ conversation trailed off as they reentered the sitting room, Satori pouring her guests a drink while Rin curled up and made herself comfortable on the empty couch. Though the fairy was chattering away in English again, she thought it might have has something to do with her drink; perhaps she didn’t like red wine? She wished her Japanese was better; she seemed like a nice enough person. Nicer than that Remilia lady at least; Rin didn’t trust her eyes.

“I suppose I had best get this out of the way first, Ms. Remilia,” Satori explained as she poured herself a shallow cup of iced tea. “Obviously you’ve already seen my Third Eye, so I won’t bother to hide it; I am a satori, like my sister Koishi. I do indeed have the ability to look into the hearts and minds of those around me. I can also choose not to look. I’m afraid that, in all honesty, the only assurance you have that I am not looking too deeply is my word.”

“But you can trust her!” Orin added emphatically. “She a nice Satori!”

Remilia smiled endearingly at the cat as she briefly whispered a translation into Francesca’s ear. “I appreciate your honesty, Miss Komeiji, though I… cannot exactly say I feel comfortable with the prospect of sitting in the presence of a mind reader.”

W-Wait, you can see like everything?!” Fran exclaimed in English, sounding rather nervous. “B-but that’s, that’s not fair! I mean…! Oh, wait, uhhmm… You, see you all? That, right not; that right not!”

The woman looked at the fairy reassuringly. “I speak, fair English, miss. Not best, but, I can understand. No, I not see everything. Many feelings, emotions, thoughts, but, not memories. Only what is in the heart. And, if the heart is confused, I also confused.” Turning back to Remilia, she added, “Would you like I speak English, if the fairy cannot understand? It may be more easy.

“Satooorriiii! Now you’re doing it too!

The vampire couldn’t help but giggle at Orin’s outburst. “Unfortunately it seems that one of our apprentices will be inconvenienced no matter which language we choose, Miss Komeiji. And if your little Rin is as curious as my little Francesca is, I can’t quite say who’s understanding is more important.”

Fran waved at her counterpart timidly. “Hello~ I am, umm, my name is, Francesca. I not good Japanese.”

“Pssh, you got that right,” Rin hissed back playfully, rolling her eyes. “At least you can speak it, though.”

“Ummm… thank you? You, speak slower please? Easy not to, umm, hear.”

The cat yawned unconcernedly. “My, name, is, Rin. Nice, to, meet, you.”

“Thank you. You are, nice meet~”

“I see your point,” Satori commented as she watched the young pair converse. “In that case Rin has heard many of my stories before, whereas of course Miss Francesca has not.”

“No, no, I can’t allow that,” Remilia interrupted, cutting off the remainder of whatever Rin’s mistress was going to say; she thought that quite rude indeed for a stranger to do such a thing. “I am in your house, not you in mine. It is only proper that I allow you to retain the comforts of your own home. Miss Fran is perhaps too curious for her own good sometimes; I’m sure she’ll manage.”

“Humm, yes, well… Rin, she is as well I’m afraid. Cats, you know~” The ladies enjoyed a gentle chuckle at Orin’s expense, something she wasn’t altogether enthralled with.

“H-Hey, what’d you say?!” she whined, pouting. Turning to Fran she asked pleadingly, “What did they say?! Why’re they laughing?!”

Twirling her hair stressfully, the fairy struggled to quickly translate even those simple phrases. “Uhh, umm, they say? They say… umm, They, say, you are also, umm… What’s the word, What word did they say Rin was? I, uhh, I remember word not. I’m sorry.”

As the conversation between the elder mistresses shifted to Japanese proper, Francesca slowly reserved herself to sitting around and looking pretty while desperately trying to make heads or tails out of the random words she managed to pluck out. Despite being in her native tongue, Rin found herself doing much of the same, having slightly more common sense than her younger sisters and realizing that it probably wasn’t very nice to interrupt what sounded like a rather serious conversation.

“So, Miss Komeiji,” Remilia continued, sipping her wine, “or… would you prefer a first-name basis? I’m afraid I haven’t yet caught yours; my apologies.”

The lilac-haired woman shook her head pensively. “Komeiji is fine. I, have no true first name, in all honesty; men and women in the past merely called me by what I was—‘Satori’—and my pets have been content to do the same. Perhaps I’ve been called it for so long it has become my name, but… Komeiji, is fine.”

The vampire smirked. “Satori Komeiji, you are far too polite to your guests.”

Satori returned the smirk. “W-Well, to be fair, we don’t exactly get very many guests around here. The mind-reading stigma tends to drive them away. Though, I can assume you’ve spent much of your life being accustomed to a similar solitude?”

“Mmm… you assume, or you see?”

Miss Komeiji nodded matter-of-factly. “And that, Miss Scarlet, is the exact point at which people start to become nervous and look for an excuse to leave.”

“Pish-posh~ Men who fear things like that will have their hearts laid bare whether or not a Seer is involved; it hardly takes magic for one to divine the desires of the soul. I keep secrets only from people who would not understand them; you of any creature on this Earth should be able to understand best of all. And thus, I have nothing to fear~”

Rin watched her mistress stare into her cup pensively as Remilia took another sip of her own. This Remilia Scarlet lady… Orin couldn’t make up her mind about her. She was haughty, egotistical, rude for being a first-time guest in a world that did not exactly welcome travelers from above-ground. And yet… she began to feel the same aura of composure from this vampire as from her own Satori. She knew things… was able to see past the superficial shell of a situation and realize the truth behind it… acted on wisdom rather than knowledge. Remilia might not have been able to read hearts, but from RIn’s catlike vantage point, there was something just as magical about being able to face a satori for the first time and immediately look past the Eye and into the heart. And in her heart, Rin knew that Satori’s heart wanted someone to talk to, someone who knew just like her.

It seemed as if the elder Komeiji had divined the same thing for herself as she set down the glass of sake. “Indeed, Miss Remilia… Indeed. I must say I didn’t expect this of you, not after knowing how deep the relationship between your sister and mine has gone; certainly not after knowing you knew. I would have expected a certain level of resentment at the least, after…”

“…the murder?” Remilia completed, picking up the question which Satori may or may not have finished by herself.

“Yes… Koishi mentioned the incident, in her own way. I know it was no one incredibly dear to you, but… how did Lady Flandre take it? It’s not been the first time she’s provoked a death.”

“Nor has it been the first time my sister has caused one, Miss Komeiji; surely you’d have seen that when you searched her on the staircase.” Satori seemed perhaps the slightest bit surprised that Remilia was so comfortable with her heart-reading as to predict when and what she might search for, but neither of them hindered the conversation about it. “My sister is unstable, Satori; not entirely responsible for her own actions, and I’ve lived with her long enough to recognize another that suffers from the same problem when I see her. I see no merit in pointing the blame at you merely for being her sister; two apples, though they fall from the same tree, have a tendency to roll apart from each other over time. Such is the case with the Scarlets, and I do not believe I am remiss in saying the same of the Komeijis.”

Satori sighed, taking another drink to occupy herself for a few seconds. “Koishi’s apple has… rolled very far indeed. She’s caused a death within your household; the least of what I owe you is an explanation. And… If you, Francesca, are friend of Flandre, then I owe also you an explanation.

Rin’s ears perked up from her shallow impression on the couch cushion. Koishi’s story… She’d heard it before, of course, several times even, and didn’t mind if Satori decided to tell it in English this time. But still, she always managed to forget a piece of it here or there along the way. It always made her feel sad, though, if perhaps not as sad as Satori ever seemed to feel after telling it.

The sister began simply, starting from the beginning. “She was, normal, at first, long time ago. Centuries, I forget how many now. Maybe I am older than you, maybe I am younger; make not much difference to me. It was… different time. You remember it well, Remilia; we were believed. We were real. And, we were feared. Men heard our legends, and despaired. They ran back to hide, or ran forward to kill. And we kill them to save ourself. It was life. We were not ashamed; we did what we must.

But, for us, for a satori… It is hard. Vampires, you can hide, hide and live normal life. Satori, we cannot. Cannot hide the Eye. Man knows what we are, and what we see. You, Remilia, you see past the Eye. They do not. At once they fear for their mind, their heart. They hate us, and never love us. They never believe that we can be trust, that we can be friend. And so we, me and my sister, we choose. Stay with man, stay with hate… or live alone, run from hate? I see in you… You hate to run. You run your whole life, hope you never need to run again, hope always failing… I have thought this also, many nights. Running… it not solve problem. Only, ignore it…

But, man is superstition. Man can never accept us, never be friend. And so we run, run deep underground, away from man and woman and hate. We run to here. Here, there is only creatures. Creatures that not speak like humans, that not listen like humans, but, they have heart like humans. No one can hear them, no one can understand them, but only satori. We see their heart, their mind. We hear, and we understand. They do not hate like man hates. They love us, because we and not man can love them back.

Satori paused for a moment to motion to Rin, eyes calmly closed and resting peacefully until the conversation returned to a language she could understand. “Little Orin, she is lucky. She is strong, and has strong magic, and so is become like human with human tongue. Many… not so lucky. Will never be lucky like Orin. So we stay, and are happy with our pets.

Koishi… she was not happy. Not enough. She was like you, Remilia; not like to run away. She was curious. Brave. Wanted to face problem. Wanted to try see new things, try make new friends. Like she is now, only… not like now at all. She wandered the surface, watching man from far away. She learned their thoughts, their hearts, day by day and month by month. We knew man by then, of course; we had lived in their world for many years already. But she did not understand. She had seen so much hate, so much bad in the world… where was the good? Should not man have good and evil in their hearts? She wanted to believe in the good.

The more she wandered, and the more she saw, the worse she got. One mind is not meant to know the dark which lies in the minds of thousands. For every thing good she found, she found two things bad, or more. She lost her hope. She lost her will. The dark had poisoned her, she told me with tears. Dripped into her heart and would not leave. All the bad, all the hate, all the sin… drowning her; a black sea. She tried to blot out the horror she saw, but she could not. She saw too much, felt too much. Every time awake was filled with only sadness, fear… what is the word…? Despair. She was, full of despair. If only, she told me… If only she did not need to feel any more… if only, you could take away all the bad thoughts and make the voices go away. Just, make the voices all go away… m-make, the… the… just, make, the voices… go, away…”

As Satori fell from English back to Japanese, and from a soft tone to a dry sob, Orin crept off of her couch and approached her mistress’s chair, sitting at her feet patiently. This happened every time. She hadn’t understood a word of it, but she didn’t need to. Koishi had always been the one thing that could bring her to tears. Ever since Rin had been old enough to understand why Miss Satori was so sad, she’d always tried her hardest to make her happy, tried her hardest to give either of the sisters a real smile for once… But sometimes, the only thing a pet can really do is be there to be petted.

“The… the w-worst part is,” Satori continued, not bothering to return back to English, “The worst part is that I, I can understand why sh-she did it. I know what it’s like, t-to hear the whispers of the hearts around you. To see the darkness we all hide, and how… dim, the light seems against it. You just wish, sometimes, that you could be… normal. That you wouldn’t have to know.”

The teary-eyed mistress finally ushered her beloved pet onto her lap, a gesture Orin never failed to ignore even in her human shape when they were practically the same size. The cat snuggled against her warm chest contentedly, Satori wrapping one arm around her as a child holds on to their safety blanket.

She sighed as the tears slowly stopped running. “Well… you’ve seen what it did to her, closing her Eye off from the world. A life without a heart, without love, guilt, or despair. I won’t attempt to justify what she’s done or tell you that she’s not responsible for her own actions; she is not mad. She just… doesn’t care.”

Remilia chose her response carefully, patiently, folding her hands softly in her lap and looking back to Satori with the eyes of another elder sister who loved her younger dearly. “…She cared enough to bring us to you, Satori. If she hadn’t revealed herself to us, we might never have found Gensokyo to begin with. I’ve seen the way my sister talks about her, the way she tries to divine the truth from her lies. Flandre believes there is hope for her… and therefore so do I.”

“I… I have wanted to believe, for so long… When I watched her play with Rin and the others, sometimes I thought maybe… maybe she still felt something. But it’s, it’s been so long…” Satori shook her head, even then still not truly understanding just what she was feeling about this miracle that had shown up at her doorstep.

“Thank you, Remilia Scarlet. For, for anything. For everything. For your sister, for your maid, for your fairies… You, you don’t know just how much this means to me, for… for Koishi to have a friend. And, for me to… to have someone to talk to about her.”

Rin listened without saying a word, eyes closed and smile serene. She’d never be able to read minds, or even see the hidden meanings of words like all the smart people around her could. She didn’t claim to know the most about Miss Satori, not even after being her most trusted and faithful companion for more years than she generally cared to count. But she knew one thing for certain, one thing that Satori couldn’t even muster up the courage to say outright, and that any other mind-reader in the world would have seen a league away printed right on her heart.

Koishi had finally found a true friend. And Satori had finally found one too.
>> No. 44849
Well that was a delightful little aside. Rin's perspective was a refreshing new take, and the old gang had enough of their old charm and idiosyncrasies to feel well within the realm of AFT. It also allowed for a delightfully creative use of the spoiler tags; something I wish more authors would utilize.
Without a doubt, the highlight of the piece was Satori's decent of the stairway. While immensely emotional and satisfying, it felt like it should have been the conclusion or finale, with the rest as a post script or epilogue. As it stands, it peaks, emotionally, less than half way through the story, and then it proceeds to dither until a satisfying (if somewhat insubstantial compared to the mid-point) conclusion. Satori's brilliantly cathartic moment is somewhat diminished by her belabored explanation in broken English. I think I know where you were coming with this, but the presentation deserves some refinement.

>> No. 44884
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>Koishi had finally found a true friend. And Satori had finally found one too.

Picture very much related.

Excellent story as always, Tepes.
>> No. 44902
I may as well post my whole opinion of AFT since I waited for an update to comment.

I started reading after reading a few snippets at random. I was simply interested at first. Then I was curious after I noticed the time this story happened.

Then I got to Flandre. I'll make this short and say that your Flandre is the best and my favorite Flandre that I've ever seen. I was especially impressed by the reason for the wings.

And I read more and loved it more and more. The characters were different from anything I had seen before. I liked all the fairies and Natasha. Patchouli's past struck me as something geniuses like Galileo suffered and made me wonder how they managed to keep going.

I could keep going, but I'll stop now. I'll simply say now that this is one of the best story I ever had the pleasure to read and a tale I would recommend to anyone, even people who know nothing about Touhou. And of course, I've read everything in Small Tales & Tall Tales and liked it all.

Once again, excellent story and thank you for writing it.
>> No. 45815
Thank you, Tepes, a thousand times. Thank you for giving us the little fairy maid who tried.

>> No. 45864
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Oh boy look at me go, answering comments five months late.

I can see where you’re coming from. I’ll be honest, the second half of the short was really just a vessel for me to explain Koishi’s backstory, because she was the only character in AFT who had not really gotten a full explanation yet, and I wanted to give her some closure. Writing it in the broken English was half-thematic—to show that people can’t always magically understand each other—and half so that Francesca would be able to hear the story, since she’d wondered about it throughout the last half of AFT. This didn’t really go as planned, mainly because I forgot that Rin was the star of this story, not Fran.

Main problem I think is that the final product changed too much from the initial concept, but I still had some of the initial concept mentality in my mind. I had wanted to write it from the perspective of just some random cat of Satori’s who would be an onlooker rather than a participant. In this way I’d be able to have said cat wander into Koishi’s room for the Koishi/Flandre scene I’d cut, and that would probably have been where you’d have gotten Kay’s backstory instead. There would have also been a cute little scene where this cat and Francesca met up so that you can get the mirror image of the two little girls in their two big worlds.

Unfortunately, life wouldn’t give me the luxury of time to write something that long, nor did I feel I had the time to develop an entirely new character that a reader would care for enough so that the Francesca scene would work on an emotional level, so I shuffled the ideas around and wrote what I was able to write rather than what I’d wanted to write. Yes, I know that it goes against writing from your heart and doing your best, but at the same time sometimes I feel that the good thing you do is better than the great thing you never actually get done. See: most of the abandoned stories on THP.

But all that aside, thank you for your critique and I will always appreciate someone who can ignore the rose-colored glasses and tell it to me straight, man to man. Well, unless you’re a woman, in which case you go, girl.

There needs to be more pictures of these four~

>I'll make this short and say that your Flandre is the best and my favorite Flandre that I've ever seen. I was especially impressed by the reason for the wings.
I think I’ve worked harder on Flandre’s character than I have ever worked on any other character I’ve ever written. Call it favoritism if you will—she’s definitely my favorite Touhou—but if favoritism is what it takes to make a memorable rendition of a character, I won’t complain. All things aside I really just wanted to do Flandre some justice after seeing so many moeblobs and deranged psychopaths. To be fair, the Flandre I had in ASSM was a textbook psychopath, and that’s part of the reason why I wanted to do her better this time. On the plus side, I took a lot of what I had used for ASSM’s Flandre to make AFT’s Koishi, so it all works out.

And yeah, I like the wing idea too. I even went ahead and said she had multiple pairs so I could explain once and for all why fanart keeps drawing them differently!

>Patchouli's past struck me as something geniuses like Galileo suffered and made me wonder how they managed to keep going.
When you truly believe in something, and I do mean truly, you begin to find out what really matters and what doesn’t. You have to give up a lot of things along the way, things you thought you needed, but if your cause is true, you will be rewarded in the end.

>Once again, excellent story and thank you for writing it.
You’re always welcome. I was happy to have written it, and thank you for caring.

Oh boy, here we go again with the unwarranted praise. I’ve already pretty much been handed the Best Flandre award by now, and now you’re trying to pin Best OC on me too?! Man, I don’t know if I can handle all this praise…

But you’re very welcome.
>> No. 50987
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I started writing this on a whim three days ago, with absolutely no idea what it was supposed to be about. I’m still not entirely sure what it’s even about now, or what it’s supposed to be saying. I came up with some theories of my own as I kept writing, of course, but I feel like maybe it’ll mean more to you if you fill in the blanks yourself. In any case, I’m not sure how much of this story is pretentious, avant-garde, or just rambling nonsense, but I thought I’d post it anyways. Those that hath ears to hear, let them hear.

Possible inspirations (none of which are directly responsible for this): Koishi Komeiji’s Heart-Throbbing Adventure, The Prestige, Fight Club, Inception, and that grimdark mindset I had when I still went by U. N. Owen.


“You knew this was coming… You knew. How could you not?”

She looks at me, and I look at her. A lackluster smile is plastered on her pale face, a smile that for all its cheer is no better than a troubled frown, wet with angry tears. In the nigh-existent light I think I might actually see some of those tears in her eyes, but no. No, no, no, those eyes haven’t cried any tears since they went blind, blind to everything in front of them except for the empty shapes and colors of the world.

A hand not my own drags itself across my arm as she walks to the side of me, her fingers smearing a trail of crimson across the few still-dry patches of my skin. “Because you know I know, don’t you?” she answers softly. “That I’d have been the one on the slab if you’d had your way, and you’d be the one with the knife. And the worst part is,” she adds languidly, her utterances both a chore and a bliss, “That not a thing either you or I would say would mean a god-damnned thing. The one on the cross dies believing he’s the martyr, and the one holding the nails kills him believing he’s the hero.

“And at this point it doesn’t even matter anymore,” she continues, returning to her seat in front of my feet. “If someone would have told you sooner, got to you before all of this had to happen… And it didn’t even have to happen, did it? Did it?!”

She shouts as me suddenly from the chair, her knuckles white against the armrests as she bites her fingers into them, the dark blood trickling down the old carved wood; mine or hers, I don’t even care anymore. She blames me for it, of course. She blames me only because if she didn’t she’d blame herself instead. But no, no, she couldn’t do that, could she? She wants someone to blame, needs someone to blame, someone below her she can point at and be the goat she casts hers sins upon. And she’ll keep on pointing, pointing that bloodstained finger, because she knows I’m heartless enough to do the same things to her, and worse.

Am I? Am I really? It’s like she said; at this point it doesn’t really matter one way or the other. She’s right, of course. We’d both laughed about it year after year, that in the end it’d be one of us on the slab, and the other one holding the knife, and the only question left would be who was who. And as years past became months past and we both started realizing that what we joked about wasn’t a joke anymore, that what we dreaded and hoped wasn’t happening was happening, by that point there was no stopping it. For other people, maybe. For normal people. But not for us, no, no no. Not minds like ours, minds that think and work on their own, as if our bodies are on loan to them with an interest we can’t ever hope to pay back. We knew the other one would start planning, start plotting, start preparing. We knew because we were doing the same thing ourselves, and if we were doing it the other one would have to do it too. Two sides of one coin, and no matter which way lands upright the result is still the same.

I think she tries to cry, tries with the few tepid valves and chambers of a heart she has left. I know she believes that she’s doing this for my own good and for the good of everyone. How she doesn’t want to have to do it and its tearing her up inside. They always say that when they’re the one with the knife, and she despite being nothing like them, is still exactly like them. I might actually attempt to feel sorry for my actions if I believed she meant it. And she might actually attempt to forgive me if she believed I meant it, too.

“God damn it,” she whispers, earnestly imploring God to send all of this to Hell and wipe it off the face of the earth. “God damn it! Why? Why’d you have to do it?! We could have helped you, I could have helped you! D’you think I don’t know what you’re going though; I know you know I do! How many times have we told each other we’re the only ones who understand?! So why, damn it all, why?!”

I can tell from the dull “bbhunk” of the table that she’s thrown the knife into it, no doubt not caring less whether it sunk into the wood or my flesh when she hurled it. I wouldn’t have even cared if she had managed to stab me; this is just what has to happen. She has to cut me. She has to torture me and lecture me and heave all her pain and anguish upon me, because to her there’s nowhere else to put it anymore. The part of her that might have been able to forgive it all and start anew with a hug and smile died the same night we knew that this night was just a matter of time.

She gets up out of the chair again, quietly. “You don’t have to answer that, of course. And you wouldn’t, would you? It’s just what you had to do. Empty, meaningless husk of a person that you are. Just your nature, you would say. You can’t fight it. Oh, you still can, but at the end of the day you never win, that’s exactly what you’d say.” Her fingers trace patterns across my skin again, softly, gently, like one lover to another. I barely even notice when she sticks the knife inside me for the seventh or seventieth time; one number’s as good as another.

I fought it. Maybe not perfectly, maybe not all the way, but I fought it long enough to see you give in. Bitch… you are a bitch now, you now; nothing but a worthless whoredog who raped everyone she ever knew, pregnant with the same chaos she used to light the match that set the country ablaze. And now our world is burning up there. Our world. Can you even remember what it was like, our world? Did you ever really believe it was our world in the first place... Or were you just stringing us all along from the minute you saw me?” Her hand is tight against the hilt of the knife, every emphasized syllable sending a twitch running though her body and into mine. The blade is nothing but a formality, a symbolic gesture; she just as well could be clawing at my skin and thrusting her hand inside my soft flesh instead, perhaps as an obscene parody of the intimate relations we’d always make light of when we were friends.

Months ago, only… Was it so recent? The endless days we spent in each others’ rooms and in each others’ houses fade from reality into dreams, as my heart which held them pumps what few streams of blood I have left to spare out of the artificial crevices she’s made for me. I can’t even remember anymore… Was she my friend? Was there really a time when we could have made merry together? There’s no longer any way for me to be sure, or if I was ever sure to begin with. For all I know the woman standing over me with just as much of my blood on me as I have myself is the worst of creatures in this world, a creature that deserves to die even more than she says I do, torturing a helpless subject long beyond what any mortal soul should possess the fortitude to endure. No stranger suddenly brought upon this room would fault me for saying so.

When you already know how the story ends, what is the thing that makes you keep reading it? It is the little details and nuances that bring out a sense of long-forgotten childlike wonderment? Do you try to read it a different way, hoping to find something you never found before? Do you reread it in rebellion, fantasizing against reason that the story will end differently; that the hero will fall instead of rise, or that the friend will live instead of die? Or perhaps, is it a blind and instinctual habit, a compulsion to carry out the same task over and over again, knowing that the result will be the same, and carrying on in spite of, or perhaps because of it? A story that resonates within on such a level that it ceases to be words on a page, and becomes you.

I hope that I find the answer sometime before I die, because if I don’t, so much of this life will have felt like a complete waste of time.

She tires of holding the knife, and returns to her endless questioning, her meaningless questioning that she could answer as well as I can. “Was I a fool for thinking it would work?” she asks, staring blankly at the ground as her back is turned to me. “Back when I first met you? We both knew how dangerous it was going to be to try. Too similar. Too close to home. But it was supposed to be a match made in heaven, wasn’t it? So much of our lives already connected, both of us so in need of someone else who understood us, how could it not have been serendipity? All I wanted was a friend. Even for someone like me… Was it, foolish, to want that?”

I feel the table creak ever so slightly as she turns around and rests her elbows upon it, gazing into my face with an imitation of a girlish melancholy she might have possessed when she was young. Her hair droops down across her temples and sways limply with her breaths, weighed down by the blood that’s coagulated and dried on the strands. She puts a hand on her cheek and emits one long sigh, using the other to brush a few wisps of hair out of my own face.

“You know there was a time I… thought I was in love with you. Not real love, no, no… I don’t think. Crush, maybe. Fantasy. One of those things you just can’t stop thinking about once it’s in there, you know? And I thought maybe… I don’t know, maybe I thought we had a shot, in the future, in a different world, if things worked out?” She shakes her head as her eyes tear themselves away from mine. “Now that… it was foolish to want that. If I can’t even love myself, how could I possibly come to love a person like you? No, no… I was a fool.”

She stares longingly at the scarlet-stained hilt of the knife in my side for a few moments before sliding it out of me without warning. She traces patterns in the bloodied steel with her finger, watches the drops traverse their way down the razor’s edge and pool on the cold stone below us. Such a child… Such a child, looking at it like it’s the first time she’s done it, like she doesn’t understand what it means or where it came from. Even now, with the red water staining her fancy clothes and drying like new rust across her arms and face, she looks so… innocent. So simple-minded. As if she still thinks after all this that I’m the only guilty one.

“We really should have done this a long time ago,” she mentions in a voice filled with regret, still peering at the knife. “Just… had it out. Tried to kill each other. It would have been so much simpler. No one would have gotten hurt. Nothing would have needed to be burned. Whichever of us would have been left would have looked back on her life and said it was for the best, in the end. It’s not like it would have solved everything that happened, but…”

I can’t tell if she whispers the last bit, or simply trails off into irrelevancy. She would dwell on what should have happened, of course. Dwell on the things that can’t be changed and don’t need to be worried about. Close herself off from the present she made and keep looking back to the past, when even the worst parts of her life were simpler, simpler and purer than they are now. God forbid she owns up to it and faces her reality; God forbid she acknowledges she has a reality to face. I know. I know because the only thing that separates one of us from the other is who’s up above, and who’s down below.

“But it had to be this way, didn’t it?” she continues, from out of void of her own joke of a consciousness. “We couldn’t have had it any other way. Not us. No… We were so desperate for something to change, something to break the monotony, anything at all. Even if our world had to collapse and burn with us in it, at least it would have been a change. They all say that, don’t they? Always so blind. Until they’re the ones trapped inside the burning building, and they’ll denounce everything they’ve ever said, everything they’ve ever believed in, just please, don’t let me die, don’t let me die, not like this I want to live…”

She turns back around again, twirling the knife between her fingers even as the point digs into her thumb, mixing her blood with mine. I know her well enough to know she doesn’t care. “I know you’re not that person,” she states, simple as fact. “I know you won’t ever change. Because to change is to admit that you were wrong, and to change is to admit that you were always wrong, and that your whole life you were just living one long lie, one big act. It’s so much easier to just accept yourself for who you say you are, and have everyone else accept you for who you are, and just move forwards step by step as if who you are doesn’t even matter, as if what you do with yourself doesn’t even matter…

“Why am I even talking to you? You aren’t listening. You never listen. I never listened, why would you? Do I honestly think it’s going to change anything? What even was the point of torturing you? You don’t care; you can’t care. Am I trying to make myself feel better? Do I think that saying any of this out loud and acknowledging it as pointless makes it any less pointless?”

She brings her hands down on the table hard, fingers splaying out over the handle of the blade, the blood fully-absorbed into the grain by now. Tangles of crimson-splattered hair hangs over her face like a willow tree, shielding her face from the outside world. Maybe she tries to look at me again, or maybe she doesn’t; the gesture either way would be symbolic only to her, much like the torture. Much like the talking. Pointless. All of it, a pointless gesture, delaying the inevitable ending we’ve both read a thousand times.

“Say something, damn it,” she finally spits, momentarily thrusting more of her weight onto the table.

I shift my eyes in her direction, something I haven’t done my entire time in the cold room, something I haven’t truly done since that first instant we locked gazes before our confrontation above. We both knew before either of us had said a word to each other that she was going to win, but… we fought anyways. Why? We did we even bother? Why waste all of that time and effort, all of that collateral damage, when it was all of it meaningless? Why did we even decide to be friends, when deep down inside of that part of us that wasn’t yet dead we already knew that it was never meant to be? The good times, the bad times… so fake, so fake and hollow. When you already know how the story ends, what is the thing that makes you keep reading it?

She notices my gaze on her face, and makes the superficial effort to brush the hair out of her face and look at me properly, one woman to another.

“There’s really… nothing, that needs to be said.”

I see the disappointment wash over her face, feel the anger for me and for herself boil up into her eyes and stoke anew the fires of emotion that ever-smoldered but never-burned in her heart. She knew exactly what I would say before I said it, but… perhaps she just believed that she needed to hear it. I can’t blame her. Because if our roles were reversed, I would have made the same request, and she would have told me exactly the same thing.

“No…” she replies sorrowfully, finally accepting what she already knew but couldn’t bring herself to believe. “No, there’s not.”

And down comes the knife.

I roll my head to the side; the knife grazes my ear and buries itself into the wood.

My right hand slips out of the shackle and grabs the handle; the binding had always been too loose and the blood had made it too slippery.

Her other hand darts to my throat, her thumb pressing against a gouge she’d made hours ago.

The blade comes free; I feel her blood splash my face as I bring the steel across her throat.

She jerks her head back half a moment before; the cut fails to penetrate as deep as was intended

Her other hand is at my wrist; my other hand is slipped loose.

I gouge the tip deep into her forearm; her opposite hand moves from my throat to her own.

I am free from her touch for an instant; left foot is loose.

Her fingers find their way into her most recent incision in my side; I miss her eye but slash her cheek.

She pulls out instants before her fingers would have been severed; right foot is loose.

I lose my grip on the knife; she finds it.

Kick to the stomach; she stabs between my toes as she staggers back.

Knife clatters to the floor; we both dive.

The edge bites into my palm as I claim it; she bites into my shoulder and claims it.

I stab at something. She punches at something.

I lose the knife. She finds it.

She finds my blood. I find hers.

I see the ceiling. The floor. The table. The ceiling again. A foot; mine or hers?

I have the steel. She has the steel. I’m on top. She’s on top. Neither of us are on top. I lose track of time. I lose track of her. I lose track of myself.

Which of us is the one holding the knife, and which of us is the one on the slab?

At this point it doesn’t really matter anymore.

I’m kneeling over her now, barely kneeling, barely laying, with her back flat against the floor, blouse sopping up her blood, my blood, our blood. My hand is so slick with it now I doubt I could even keep a hold on the blade if I tried to slash her throat, and even then I’m not altogether sure if my arm would have the strength left to piece the skin. And maybe she can push me off of her, and maybe she can’t. A symbolic gesture, just like everything else in this room.

She looks at me. Blindsided. Impressed. But… still empty.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t think I was going to try… We know each other better than that.”

She furrows her eyebrows at me, blood dripping down one of them and partially blinding an eye.

“I’m disappointed that you did. I thought you knew us better than that.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then why does it matter?”

“If it doesn’t matter, then why are you asking?”

Our noses touch; she can feel my hair on her cheeks, taste the blood on my breath. We might have kissed each other in another life. Shared the same room, the same bed. It would have been just as inappropriate then as it would be now. Just as empty. Solving nothing. We never really loved each other. And we never really hated each other. What we are they don’t have a name for.

I move away, kneeling tall by her feet and letting the knife dangle at my fingertips. The threat to her throat doesn’t matter. Our broken and bloodsoaked bodies don’t matter. If either of us really, truly wanted to, we both still possess the strength to kill the other, knife or no knife, shackles or no shackles. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because we know each other too well, and we know the ending of the story too well. We know, and we care, and we don’t care all at the same time.

I hear her laugh, or perhaps I hear myself laugh. Or maybe I am her, and her laugher is mine. “It’s never going to end,” she says, or I say. “It’s all a joke. We’re just going to keep on doing this, and it’s never going to end, not even when one of us finally kills the other.”

“They’ll make it end,” the other one replies. “They’re not letting us get away with it this time. Not this time… They’re going to kill us both this time.”

“Not us… just you.”

She tilts her head and looks at me, looks at me tilting my head and looking at her. “After all this… You know I know you don’t actually believe they still think there’s a difference between us. We both caused this. And we were both the victim of it. One of us is as good as the other to them now.”

I can see it in her eyes that she figures it out at the same point that I do. Maybe she’d always known, and it was just the words that gave the thought any relevant meaning. Or maybe this had always been the plan ever since the first spark hit the first blade of grass.

And it matters to her.

“No,” she announces, as if she can change either of our minds. “You can’t.”

“I can’t. But… I still will.”

“They’ll never believe you.”

“They won’t. But… they still can.”

She begins to shake her head, not from an unwillingness to believe, but from an unwillingness to accept. “You don’t want this. You can’t possibly want this.”

I return her nonplussed gaze, unshaken and entirely apathetic to her half-hearted pleas. “And yet you don’t want me to do it.”

I know she wants to reason with me, to beg, to bargain, to threaten. I know because I want so very much to meet her logic strike for strike, move for move. But she can’t. She can’t because she knows it doesn’t matter, one way or the other.

She can’t, but she still will. Because I can’t, and yet I still will.

“How long do you honestly think it will last?” she asks, actually trying to pick herself off of the ground. “Destroying your life just to go on to destroy mine. Burning the bridge at both ends with you in the middle. You still haven’t changed anything; the fires will come. They will find you, one day. Or you’ll find yourself, finally, and then I won’t be there to stop you when it happens.”

I raise myself to my feet, looking down at her, a worm in the red dirt. So… pathetic. “They won’t ever be able to find me… because they’ll stop looking. There’ll be nothing to find anymore. Because after this they’ll know, won’t they? Which of us was really the one on the slab, and which of us was the one with the knife. And then you’ll disappear, and it’ll just be me, like it should have been all along.”

The me on the slab flops herself onto her belly and crawls towards the me with the knife, reaching beyond her grasp. “How can you be sure? How do you even know which life is mine if you can’t even tell which life was yours? We’ve lived through each other for so long… One is as good as the other. You can’t know if you’re not just going back to being the one with the knife.”

She tries to touch my feet, and I back away, turn my heels towards her. Because we’re not the same anymore. Not anymore. I decided, she decided. We decided. It’s never going to end, not even if one of us kills the other one, as long as we’re alive. As long as we keep being we.

“They’ll know,” I tell her over my shoulder. “They’ll know which one I am. They always did. It was always us… we were always the ones who never knew.”

I take my first step away from her, and my second, and my third. I know I should drop the knife, as a symbolic gesture, but I don’t. If there is no one to give symbols meaning, how can they have any power over you? And there is no one here any more to give symbols meaning.

“You know nothing you say is going to change anything.”

“No… but I want it to.”

I leave the darkness to go back above, or else I’m the one still laying in the darkness below; I’m still not really sure. But they’ll know. They’ll know which one I am. And then I’ll know too. I hope that I was always the one on the slab. But even if I was only ever the one with the knife… at least I’ll know.
>> No. 51318

Here you go. I wrote a little actually somewhat long thing for Valentimes, but since it has nothing to do with the SDM I figured I'd toss it up on /shorts/ instead. Figured I'd link it for you folks here too; also a little bump in case you missed Two-Way Mirror right above this post.

Why the heck did I write Ebb And Flow? I dunno, probably for the same reason I wrote that cheesy Momiji short two and a half years ago.
>> No. 51326
On mouseover, I see a goo girl, and am highly intrigued.
>> No. 52867
File 133600778626.jpg - (230.20KB, 912x1200, My guns are better than your guns.jpg) [iqdb]
“All right, for reference Flan? Let the record state that I never actually watched the first two movies.”

“In the first movie Wesley Snipes killed a minor Old One and a bunch of clubbers. In the second movie Wesley Snipes killed a bunch of Russian hobos. There might have been other good guys, but I think they’re all dead now.”

“Let the record state that I don’t give a shit.”

“Lilli, play nice now~ You promised not to walk out of us like you did the last time, remember? That was major totes uncool.”

“Fuckin’ yay. I get to experience all one-hundred-and-bloody-ten-percent of the modern-made CGI wonderments of a shitty sequel-of-a-sequel about nigga vampires laying the smack down on cracka vampires. Someone pinch me.”

“No one said it was a bad movie yet, Miss Devil.”

“Sapphy, I thought I told you I won’t be entirely disappointed at you if you just call her Boobs.”

“And I thought I told you to shut the hell up.”

“Shut the hell up, Boobs.”

“Girrrrls, you’re making me sad! You wouldn’t like me when I’m sad!”

“Can we just start the movie already?”

“Okay, now remember people, you’ve gotta stick to your stereotypes this time! Sapphire, you’re the straight man. Lilligan, you’re the angry downvoter. I’ll be the lovable little nitpicker. N’ sis, you—“

“—Can try my very, very hardest not to criticize any and all vampire ‘traits’ these ‘vampires’ may or may not have.”

“I was gonna say high school fanfic-shipper, but vampires are cool too! I used to want to be one when I grew up! But now everyone wants to be one, so now I want to be a space cowboy!”

“Such an adorable little liar you are, Flan~ Saph on the other hand, now she’s just living the dream, isn’t she?”

“Remilia, please…”

+ + + + + + + + + +

Flan: Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand~…

Koa: Oh, the height of originality, turning your logo red for a vampire movie. Fucking please.

Saph: Blade is Marvel?
Flan: So’s Ben Aflack, but you don’t see me bringing that wound up now do you?

Koa: Kill this narrator. Kill him now.
Remi: Uggh, no… please, please… Referencing Dracula is a vampire movie scene one is not avant-garde. It hurts, Flan… Hold me.

Saph: Meanwhile, in Unspecifiedistan…
Flan: Yeah, we’re totally not tired of this place yet after twenty-plus years. I miss Vietnam.
Remi: Vietnam, I miss Europe.

Flan: Master Chief?! Is that you?!

Koa: Yeah, yeah… Fuck you, sun~
Saph: Is that you liking something in this movie?!
Remi: What a scandal~!

Remi: Yeah, that’s a chick. You can sashay up that camo all you want, girl.

Flan: Aww, girls, check out that sweet Palm Pilot! It’s like I’m really in 1998!
Saph: This movie was made in 2004.
Flan: I know, right?!

Saph: I’m not concerned about the fake sandstone as much as I am about all that fake sand.
Flan: How expensive can sand [possibly be?!
Koa: Your precious little Hollywood has cut corners for so long there is nothing left but a sphere.

Flan: I’m not the only one who just noticed those “whoosh” sound effects, right?
Saph: I have your back, Flandre.

Remi: They are vampires why do they even need lights.

Remi: Poser… Poser… Meathead.
Flan: Rowdy Roddy Piper, how did you get here?

Koa: This is what it’s like to talk to you cunts every damn day.
Saph: You mean you’re that awful woman, or we are?
Remi: That girl is such a lesbian.

Saph: Did they pay him to be this generic and pervy-looking?

Remi: No, they paid him to die.
Flan: Synch your watches, team. 0338, first death.

Saph: Do you really need the strobe effect here? Is it really that necessary?

Flan: Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, a time lapse happens. See, see, no, it’s totally artsy, girls, I’m telling you!

Remi: Kill that widows-peak. Kill it with fire, now.

Remi: I’m serious, I will unearth Bella Legosi and use his leg as a torch to burn that thing.

Flan: Explody? Explody? Explody?!


Flan: Keep going… Keep going…! HOME RUN, THURMAN THOMAS!
Saph: Oh wow… That, is acceptable.

Saph: Hmm, forgot we hadn’t had the opening credits yet.
Flan: Yeah, they’ve been pushing those back lately.

Flan: No, Blade, no, you shoot the car as you’re spin-jumping over it, not after you land! I mean come on!

Saph: Rawr, hiss, I am sort of an American Indian, fear me.

Remi: Well, I say, I know what I’m getting Sakuya for her birthday this year~
Saph: That is one fine knife.

Flan: From the creator of “White Men Can’t Jump” comes, “Black Men Can’t Run.”
Saph: Not with twenty-five pounds of prop leather on them at least.

Koa: What is this car chase trying to be anyways, fucking Matrix 2?
Saph: Well if it wasn’t before it sure is now after that reused stunt.
Flan: At least Blade has a Dodge Charger and not that piece-of-crap Hummer. That piece-of-crap’s a piece-of-crap.

Remi: I thought you said all the other good guys died, sis.
Flan: Oh, Whistler? He did, but they brought him back when they made the sequel. You know, vampire shenanigans.
Remi: No. No I don’t know.

Saph: What even is this music?
Koa: It’s shit.
Saph: Thank you.

Remi: Come on! Just shoot the fool already, what good does bashing him against the roof do?! Thank you, finally!


Remi: UV light does not work UV light does not work UV light does not work UV light does not work!
Saph: Not to support the film too much, Remilia, but you do have to accept the rules set by the movie’s universe.

Koa: How many times? How, many, fucking times does a fucking highway divider roll a fucking car?!

Flan: Ooo, scary shoes~

Saph: Speaking of how many times it happens… “He’s got a gun!” anybody?

Remi: Again, stop being dramatic and just shoot him.

Flan: Oh no, he’s got a cough, that means he’s got the cancer!
Saph: There’s nothing we can do for him now. He’s terminal.

Koa: Nice comeback dumb SHIT!
Flan: Wesley Snipes approves of this insult.

Remi: Voyeur! Voyeur!
Flan: But it’s… man on man. I thought you said she was a les.
Remi: Exactly!

Saph: And of course he has to take his fake teeth out, even though he just told us he wasn’t a vampire.
Flan: Be considerate of the hearing-impaired in the audience, Saph.
Koa: I swear to god tearing my ears off would not change a damn thing.

Fran: If I had a quid for every time the police came after the scene was already over…

Saph: Hang on, hang on… The “POLICE” on those cars is mirrored! What the heck?
Flan: Nah, nah, see, like, it’s a metaphor for, like, vampires, because you’re looking at the movie through Blade’s perspective, so, like, it’s all through a mirror the whole time, so you can actually like tell who’s the vampires!
Saph: …Nnnnnno.

Flan: Ohh, ohh, pay attention here! Not only is it an extremely-dated iMac, but it’s a rare example of not Hollywood OS!
Remi: Damn pasty-face Goths get out of my vampire movie.
Saph: Is that even… possible?

Koa: What the hell was even the point of that scene?! Fifteen seconds and all you told us was what you just fucking told us a minute ago!
Flan: Ehh, the Mac OS X was worth it.
Koa: No, fuck you.

Saph: Again with the abandoned warehouse by the docks? Really…?
Flan: It’s a shrewd business move. Urban restructuring on this side of the river means the property values have nowhere to go but up!
Saph: …The warehouse is going to be blown sky high halfway through, isn’t it?
Flan: Oh, totally.

Flan: Hello again Kris Kristofferson and/or Jeff Bridges. You’ve aged well.
Remi: I’d still hit it.
Koa: This is what I’m talking about, this is what I have always been fucking talking about, goddamn it whores!

Flan: For your benefit, Remi, in case you didn’t know how to kill vampires yet.

Saph: Do we really believe Blade cares about the science behind the magic device?
Flan: Magic? Since when do vampire movies have a thing to do with magic?
Remi: Flan, you’re my sister, and I love you, but I’m warning you…

Saph: Do we really need the artist’s sketch when we’ve got photo evidence of him?

Flan: Alienware!

Koa: No, what you sluts should be asking is why the fuck do they need to tell you on the fucking screen it’s the goddamn FBI HQ when it’s so excruciatingly obvious to anyone who’s not mentally retarded that it’s an FBI HQ?

Remi: Leeessssbiaaan.

Flan: Two more backups and you’ve got yourself a Flying V
Remi: I can think of a few things that start with V~
Flan: Vampire, vagina, vermouth, Vermont, vermicelli…

Remi: Vampires on thermal scan? Wonder what continuity guy screwed that one up.

Remi: Is it possible for her to sound any more like a condescending bitch?
Saph: At least she has a personality.
Flan: As far as condescending bitches go, I think she could hold her own pretty well against most of those Twilights.

Flan: Yeah, yeah, not so condescending now that you’re alone, are ya bitch?!

Remi: Why? Why would a vampire be afraid of A: the dark, and B: other vampires feeding on humans?!

Flan: ¡Qué! ¡Es El Diablo! ¡Ay, caramba!

Koa: No, no, fuck that noise.
Remi: I ain’t fuckin’ that noise with a ten foot pole.
Flan: Good, ‘cause I don’t think Vlad the Impaler would let you borrow it, even to kill this… thing. Are they really calling this Dracula?

Saph: Oup, oup, vampire superiority speech! Because there’s always a caste system, am I right?
Remi: Word up, sister.

Koa: For fuck’s sake, learn the damn Spanish word! It’s joder! ¡Joder! ¡Tú me estás jodiendo!

Saph: Please tell me stakeout cars aren’t this bloody obvious in real life. Please tell me that.

Remi: Oh great, now who’s this square?
Flan: Someone who thinks he’s in a movie twenty years older than this one.

Koa: Fucking no, not this shit.

Remi: It could be wor—oh hell no, not this shit.

Flan: Oh both of you are a bunchaaaaAAHHH DAMN IT NOT THIS SHIT!!

Flan: Who cares about Blade, I want to read about “Bayou Alligator Eats Entire Family”.

Flan: “Ahh, dammit Blade, yuurr a loose cannon! DA office’s breathin’ down mah neck aftuurr that stunt you pulled! I’ll have yuurr badge for this!”

Remi: Old man? Don’t just stand there and take that guff Kris Kristofferson!

Saph: I’m betting right now that this is going to end up being the most emotional part of this movie.
Flan: Saying that means you just killed him, you know. It’s the rules.

Saph: Remilia? You okay?
Remi: I’m… just… trying, not, to kill them, with my mind…

Flan: Mmm, right there, reflection in the window. Totally not vampires.
Saph: It’s like that don’t really even want to make a vampire movie.

Remi: You shame your name and your blood you are the worst vampires.
Saph: …worse than Twilight?
Flan: No, we went over this before, those are actually cleverly-disguised golems. Made of stone, no emotions… think about it.

Flan: Who in the 21st century actually buys a full baguette and stalk of celery?
Saph: …and carries it in a paper bag instead of a plastic one?

Koa: I am fucking sick of these faux-tension jump-scare scenes. They’re in every movie and they suck, dick.

Saph: Are there really this many decrepit subway stations in America…?

Flan: Awww snap; skaters.
Saph: What sort of low-life vampire let these posers get their blood anyways?

Koa: Fuck yeah that’s right; fuck you.
Remi: The wicked shall receive their just reward~
Flan: Aaaaaaand now comes the electro-grunge.

Flan: Knife shoe! Knife, shoe!

Saph: And now comes that scene we all hate, where the spunky 110-pound starlet pretends like she’s actually competent at fighting, and the plot dictates that she is.

Remi: No. Just… no! You are wasting, time! What are all these punches? What are they?! Take off you boot, and stab him with it!

Flan: Woah. Okay, now that, is cool. I want that.

Saph: And she rides off into the sunset.

Saph: I have a hard time believing that Blade is a zen master.
Flan: I have a hard time believing YOUR FA-yeah there’s absolutely no reason for him to be doing that.

Saph: Okay now where’d he come from? He was just, there!
Flan: The stoic in any given story is allowed to teleport as he pleases. Like ninjas, or butlers.

Flan: Oh no, the fuzz, save us please.
Saph: I… actually think they’re kind of screwed here.

Saph: So how many swat guys is he allowed to take out, by himself, before they start screaming O.P.?

Remi: Some horrid computer dialog boxes there for you, Flan.
Flan: And yet, still running MacOSX!

Saph: Meanwhile, ninja-Blade over there…

Remi: Okay, Flan, answer this for me; you know computers, right? Why would you have the computer’s self-destruct mechanism only accessible by a program on the computer itself? Why not just have some fuses and dynamite?
Flan: Because this way we can watch Kris Kristopherson mash one hand on the keyboard randomly to perform computer magic! He was a trucker, you know!

Saph: I hear a whole lot of gunfire for them presumably only shooting at two guys. And yet why do I see no bullets?

Flan: Tis just a flesh wound~

Flan: Crawl, crawl Kris Kristopherson! The sad action music demands it!

Flan: It’s a bomb!

Saph: That explosion just keeps going, don’t it?

Remi: Blade just looks so confused… I’d feel sorry for him if he had any sense of style whatsoever.
Flan: He’s acting like some kind of pissed-off cat after you spray it with water.
Saph: Well, cats are… sort of, like, vampire… ninjas?
Koa: Find a shovel, little cunt; diggin’ that damn hole ain’t gonna get any easier.

Remi: Ooooh, we’re supposed to feel sad! See, now I get it!
Flan: Clearly you’ve never watched Convoy, Remi. Truly, the death of a giant.

Flan: Another pointless timelapse.


Saph: That’s a real good way to get yourself killed in a movie like this.

Saph: Black Cop, White Cop?
Flan: Loose Cop, Tight Cop!

Remi: Nnnno, just Jerk Cop, Jerk Cop.

Remi: Not this scene, for the love of God not this scene.


Flan: “Heuummmyes, emm, heellllooo, my name ish Dickter Vance, and I’m heeerrree to purtend like I’m not a total egotistical douche!
Koa: Preaching to the choir, retard.

Saph: Now, is this walking trope in movies supposed to be gay, or just vaguely unsettling?
Flan: I believe it was the philosopher Murray who said it best: “Yes it’s true: this man has no dick.”

Koa: Ahh, he’s speaking my language now~
Saph: Umm, ehh… My, uhh, my face right now? Yeah, his face. That.

Remi: Can you, just… Hell with it, I’m just going to plug my ears and turn away. Wake me when this travesty’s over.

Flan: Ahh, Remi Remi Remi, you’re missing the best part! It’s sex, Remi, they’re talking about sex!
Remi: Don’t. Care.

Saph: Yes.
Flan: Done got told, brotha!

Flan: If I had a quid for every time a police chief said “jurisdiction”…

Flan: Thaaaat’s not a couple thousand milligrams! And since when is liquid medication measured in milligrams?!

Saph: Every time the phrase “a mere human” is uttered in a fantasy movie, a fairy loses its wings.
Flan: And then cries.

Flan: Someone tell D.J. Mixmeister to cool down on that voice speed slider.

Saph: Worst line in the movie. Right there.
Flan: I’ma hold you to that, cuz’.

Flan: Let the soothing voice of the Rubber Duck rock you to sleep…
Koa: No.

Flan: Remi, Remiremiremi! You can look now; the carpet muncher’s back!
Remi: Uhhhnn… Fffine, I guess she’s better than nothing…

Flan: Wait, is that a… Crap, for a second there I thought I actually saw a female Asian vampire. Too blurry.

Remi: Has her acting… improved?
Flan: Doesn’t matter, she’s still got that pig-disgusting underbite.

Saph: Aaand now she’s back to being wooden and creepy.
Koa: Fuck that bitch.
Remi: Not on your life; I don’t do raven-hairs.

Flan: I swear that guy looks just like Daniel Craig.

Saph: I hear a plot-point triggering~…

Saph: Waitwhat?!

Koa: That’s an attitude I can get be—

Saph: Oh, so they’re finally calli—

Remi: Again with the punching of the vampires…?
Flan: You can do better than that, Deadpool, come on!

Saph: I think he’s getting ready to Hulk Out or something.

Flan: A laser gun is the best gun for killing vampires. FACT.

Koa: Fuck that no you are not going to waste five fucking minutes to, get, dressed!

Flan: Now IMproper use of slow motion. Again.

Flan: Yes, Deadpool, Deadpool~…

Flan: “With a foorty-foour Magnum the most powerful handgun in the wooorld…”

Koa: Well this is fucking predictable.
Remi: Agreed.
Saph: Thirded.

Flan: Ooo, fifty caliber Magnum!

Remi: Wesley Snipes takes orders from no man, Ryan Reynolds.
Flan: Don’t you speak to my husband like that!

Flan: Come on, Deadpool could totally shoot around corners!

Saph: Does she need to reveal more skin to be able to use her secret weapon?
Remi: Watch more action movies, Saph.
Flan: Watch more anime, Remi.

Flan: Ooo, save that replay on Xbox Live!

Remi: I have to concede, the technology in this movie is very nice.
Flan: Best part as far as I’m concerned. Y’know… other than Wade Wilson, of course.

Koa: Fucking elevator music. What, do you think that you’re ironic?!
Flan: Plus Blues Bothers pre-empted it by like twenty years, so yeah, point.

Saph: Are the police always this conveniently late? I mean except when they’re being conveniently on-time? Do we have to see half a dozen cars skidding to a stop every time?

Flan: That would have been a great time to use inappropriate slow-mo. Wonder why they didn’t…

Remi: Damn right you forgot your “sword”; you know you’re not getting any in this movie Blade~
Koa: You say that I am the depraved one, harpy. I have heard you say it.
Remi: My house, my rules, shut up.

Saph: What? Okay, now who’s this square?
Flan: A blacksploited stereotype.

Saph: Now, I can see this scene being funny, I can see the creators thinking that this scene is funny. Except it’s not.

Flan: No, screw that noise, your name is Wade Wilson, and bitch best remember that.

Remi: Another abandoned warehoue on the river? I’ve got news for you, so-called Vampire Resistance, that didn’t work out so well for you the last time.
Saph: At least they didn’t outright call themselves “The Resistance”. I hate it when they do that.

Remi: Boring. Boring-backstory useless action girl ; you are of no value to anyone. Get, out.


Flan: Now see, that is exactly what Wade Wilson would say in this situation! I’m telling you, if this movie serves no other purpose, it gave us a preview of what Ryan Reynolds will become!
Remi: Ryan Reynolds is a typecast romantic comedy lead. I don’t know what you see in him.
Flan: “Buried”. Then we’ll talk.

Saph: Woah, Remilia, Remilia you’re in the shot!
Remi: NO! NO! It cannot get worse than this! That name! That godforsaken name! That’s it! No more, Flandre, NO, MORE. I’ve humored you, I’ve bit my tongue just about clean off trying not to be petty, I have tried to become involved in your inexplicable ironic love-hate devotion to this tripe, but I, have, standards! I love you, because you’re family, but what I am witnessing right now makes me feel like I’m about to vomit blood, and nothing you SAY, or DO, is going to stop me from going straight to the kitchen right now, getting a knife, and stabbing myself with it! Because of this, THIS!!
Flan: …I’ll stop inviting Koishi over…?
Remi: ……damn you. Damn you for making me watch this, little sister.

Flan: Now, sadly, what you all just missed while we were being rudely interrupted—
Remi: It deserved it.
Flan: —was Wesley Snipes utterly obliterating the fourth wall and explaining why the movie that he is in sucks. Again, throwback to Deadpool starting Ryan Reynolds coming out Summer 2014 get your tickets now.

Remi: Why, can they not find, a good, female, actress, in, this, MOVIE?!

Saph: Wait, so, shooting vampires in the head doesn’t kill them, or the arrow wasn’t silver…?
Remi: What? That arrow is not made of silver? The arrow that is that girl’s main, weapon? Every weapon she has is made of silver except her arrows? No. No, you leave this movie, now. You don’t get to kill me; I get to kill me before you are even allowed to dream of killing me. Every weapon! Except the arrows!
>> No. 52868
File 133600785812.jpg - (106.98KB, 570x375, My Dracula is better than your Dracula.jpg) [iqdb]
Flan: Again, pretty good tech in this movie; video camera gun! Also, decently-okay playlist title there.

Saph: Has it ever actually been in vogue to call a girl a “betty”?
Remi: Americans...

Flan: Sucky name, by the way.

Remi: Koa, succubae: True, or false~?
Koa: Wouldn’t you like to find out, slut.
Flan: Low-hanging fruit, Ryan; you’re better than this.

Flan: And yet, R.R.’s low-hanging fruit is still better than the median for this movie!

Remi: Augh, shut up, shut up shutupshutup! I will listen to Ryan Reynolds for the rest of the movie if you will just, shut, up!

Saph: I’m with Blade; this plot is stupid.

Flan: Extrapolation doesn’t work that way, but whatever.

Flan: “They”? “They” call Dracula Drake? They who? They who?! How do you know this? Where, is, Harvey, Dent?!
Remi: Honestly, if they keep doing this to us I’m going to be forced to start talking like bitchy-bitch over here.
Flan: I’d settle for his loved ones~!

Flan: Gratuitous use of Latin, minus five points.
Saph: Minus ten, Flandre, minus ten, at minimum.

Remi: They might have had a good premise… They might have had something! And you gave it up! You gave it all up for the bloody effing name drop!

Flan: Yeah, yeah, Iraq is a hotspot these days. Let’s just drop that name right here since everyone in the world knows where it is now.

Remi: You… are not… my real father.
Flan: Every time that face appears on screen, take a drink, then smash your wineglass against the ground.

Saph: Slow motion walking, rap, and antique bling?!
Flan: And I may tell myself, “this is not my beautiful Dracula.”

Remi: Burn this. Burn this all to the ground, right now. I don’t care if he’s in the building or not when it happens, burn it.

Koa: Goddamn it, Twilight was an improvement. Twilight was a fucking improvement on this shit! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR WORLD?!

Saph: Come on, just bring the rain… Bring the rain!

Flan: Rain, brought.

Remi: Wrong way to bite a neck; don’t even get me started.

Flan: And lo, the mighty Tyrannosaurus revels over his prey.

Saph: Ahh dang, them again?

Flan: Dracula is Hitler; you heard it here first.


Remi: Again with the pointless uninspired naming… Please.

Saph: Hang on… didn’t they already make the anti-vampire virus in the first movie?
Flan: They did, didn’t they~? Boy that scientist must be feeling really stupid right about now. Oh wait, she’s not a scientist, she’s just reading her lines verbatim how dry of a character can you possibly be. You’re not even a MILF; you’re worthless!

Remi: The fat man annoys me. I want my Q back.

Remi: Enough… with you asinine names. Flan your husband is coming dangerously close to my disapproval.

Saph: Mmm… Yeah, that’s a nice shotgun.
Flan: Flandre approves of this shotgun.
Koa: Naked lady on the stock, fucking letch.

Flan: Gaaah, that lightsaber is sooo much less cool with a crap name like “The UV Arc”.

Saph: You know… she’s not even that hot, for being the action girl.

Flan: Remilia! Did you know that vampires can shapeshift into other humans?!
Remi: Why no I didn’t, Flandre! But they can’t turn into bats or mist! Why all these years, I thought it was the other way round!

Remi: That question answers so much about this scene.

Saph: Here’s some more glaringly obvious vampire bunk you don’t need to know if you watched the first two movies, and don’t care about if you didn’t.

Saph: I just, I have a quick question here, does this film need a token black stereotype when the lead is already black?
Flan: No, see, the problem is that Snipes here is filling the quota of The Stoic, not The Token, so for all intents and purposes Wesley Snipes is not actually black.

Flan: Aauugh, not only are you a complete poser for bringing your own personal soundtrack with you—with crap taste in music I might add—but you’re using a first-generation iPod! That thing was the grey-brick Game Boy, come on!

Flan: Oh the hour is approaching, just give it your best; you’ve got to reach your prime~…
Koa: No.
Flan: And that’s when you need to put yourself to the test, and show us a passage of tiiiiiime~!
Koa: Fucking, NO!
Flan: We’re gonna need a montage!
Koa: Shut your hole, cunt!

Flan: Congrats, Spider Man, you just killed Gwen Stacy.

Remi: A pink phone…? What grungy-looking guy like that has a pink phone?

Flan: I’m telling you, right there, right there. That is our Deadpool! Completely out of place in this movie, but perfect for that one!


Flan: Ladies and ladies, Ryan Reynolds, once again proving that he is still the best part of this movie.

Remi: Is she good for anything? Is she bringing anything to this movie besides an exposed midriff?

Flan: And I say to myself, “This is not my beautiful Matrix”
Remi: It would be nice if I could dodge bullets.

Remi: For Christ’s sake, just kill him! You can’t possibly care; just, kill, him!

Flan: Nope. White men apparently still cannot jump.

Saph: I can already tell this chase scene will be a complete waste of time.

Remi: Why is he even running? Why is he even allowing himself to be chased? Can’t he just shapeshift and blend in with the crowd?
Saph: I told you, Remilia. Complete waste of time.

Flan: Minus INFINITY points you are taking NOTHING from Stoker!

Remi: A glimmer… A glimmer of something more profound… Corrupted, and corroded, until there is nothing left but a pale shadow, and overacting.

Saph: Hang on… Flandre, continuity check. They get their tech from the same place, so why would he not know what that bio-foam was?
Flan: Either A) He’s never actually gotten hurt in combat before now, or B) He’s Deadpool but his healing factor is broken. Which happens more often than you might expect.

Saph: Have I not realized how much slow-motion there is in 21st century films, or are they just using it far too much in this one?
Flan: I say unto you, 300.

Koa: Fuck no, shower scene, fuck you, fuck you with your own damn stake up the ass.

Remi: Uggh… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this shower scene is surprisingly tasteful all things considered.
Flan: What shower kind of even is in she?

Flan: Vintage PS2 controller.

Flan: Vintage 70’s knit blanket.

Saph: Would he really ask a question like that now? Where’s that even coming from?

Flan: Aaaand that pretty much sums that bromantic relationship up.

Flan: LITTLE GIRL! LITTLE GIRL! Give us poignant commentary about the world at large, little girl!

Flan: Ooooh, here it comes, it could be the moral statement of the entire film~…!

Koa: Ahh hell, sure, I’ll settle for that. World fucking sucks, girlies. Get used to it.
Remi: Don’t start with me, whore; I will suffocate you with your own titties.

Flan: All right, musical filing system for the blind? Good tech. Everything she’s talking about right now? Bad tech.

Flan: “No, dude, it’s cool, there’s an abandoned warehouse two blocks from my house, we could totally fit it in the movie!”

Saph: Man they are really slow on the draw there.
Flan: Slowest Gun in the West, Saph.

Remi: That’s right, bitch-slap that ho, pimp!

Remi: Okay, now that is a good line.
Flan: Samuel L. Jackson would agree.

Saph: That laser scanner is completely hackable.

Flan: Auuuwwhhh, what’s in the baaahhhx, what’s in the baaahhhx?!
Saph: Okay, one, it’s a warehouse, two, does that joke ever get old for you?

Remi: Ohhhhohohoho, is this what I think it is~? It is, isn’t it~?

Remi: Yes, yes~… This is it, right here. This is the redeeming scene of the entire film, ladies. The inevitable conclusion of any vampire culture that does not need fresh blood is The Farm.
Flan: Kinda makes you feel sorry for what we do to Sakuya, don’t it?
Saph: Last I checked Miss Sakuya wasn’t living her life shrink-wrapped in bio-stasis.
Flan: Well, y’know, technically, time-stop is a sort of bio-stasis…
Koa: You and your self-justified morality…

Flan: Ooooh, Joker Slow-Clap~…
Saph: Except it wasn’t a slow clap in the movie proper, but, whatever.

Remi: Ahh, hell, for a moment I’d forgotten there was a horrible plot in all this.

Flan: Oohh, snap, served again bro~

Saph: Yyyyyeah, no, that’s not true. There’s never a master shut-down password.
Flan: Girl, you know there’s always a master shut-down password! Plus it’s a tangentially-associated one-word phrase for your convenience.

Saph: So you’re just going to sit there and let him walk away… Does she even have a purpose in life?

Koa: What…? What the hell is this? Basketball?! What the fucking hell is this?!
Flan: Twenty quid says shit goes down in under five minutes.
Remi: I give it three; you are on, young lady.

Remi: Hohohoho~! Pay up, girlie, pay up~!
Flan: Thirty seconds… damn, girl, that’s just not cool…

Flan: I feel bad for the K. Kristofferson. having to come back for this crap here.

Saph: “Woah, man, I’m trippin’ out…”
Flan: Aaaaactually this is about par for the course for Deadpool. He has… problems. Plus he and Death are like “this”, so, yeah.

Remi: Two minutes… He just sabotaged their base in under two minutes, and did it quietly. How did these idiots ever manage to make it this far in the first place?!

Remi: Come on, how could she not notice that? What kind of a blind person is she? Can she not smell? Can she not speak and ask if anyone is alive?!

Flan: And I tell myself, “This is not my beautiful Patchouli.”

Saph: Well, at least she’s dead now. One less thing to worry about.
Remi: Is every character in this movie utterly disposable? Seriously, do any of them serve any purpose?! How many seconds of screen time did they even get?
Flan: It’s like I said. Blade kills everyone, and any other good guys die. Hell, they brought Kris Kristofferson back just so they could kill him again.

Saph: Needlessly large air duct cliché not withstanding, does this one just… dead end after only ten feet? It’s like it was built only so that little girls could hide in it.
Flan: I don’t know what she’s worried about. You can’t kill kids in movies. Not P.C. Come on kid, you’re a little girl in the presence of vampires, be more aware of your medium! Otherwise you’ll never grow up to be me!
Saph: For the record? I don’t want to grow up to be like you.
Remi: That’s because she’s too busy growing up to be like me~!
Saph: Remilia, no, please…
Flan: Oh hey, there’s a movie going on over there!
Koa: Is that what you call it?
Flan: Haaahahahaaaayeeeaaah, this movie sucks.

Saph: Is there a… female equivalent to Captain Obvious or something we can use here?

Saph: Again, you’d think she was new to the job if she’s freaking out over a dark building with dead bodies in it.

Remi: “Immortality will come to such as are fit for it…” Mmm, not half-bad, not half-bad.
Koa: No one is fit for immortality, you bastard. Try saying that after you’ve lived over a thousand.
Flan: I’m disappointed that they couldn’t make the blood drip and had to paint the drips themselves.

Saph: Waaaaaitwaitwait wait, she cries over the dead scientist but not the two dead schlubs?
Flan: I would assume the answer to that would be apparent.

Flan: You have Star Power! USE IT!!

Remi: Khaaaaan?
Flan: Not even close, sis, not even close. Lurk, more.

Flan: Oh good, more Ryan Reynolds. The movie was starting to drag.

Remi: Wooooah woah woah, yes, I’m with him; what the fuck? Alien dogs…?
Flan: Oh yeah, they’re vampires from the second movie. You can just ignore them.
Remi: That is not a vampire.
Saph: And the rest of them are…?

Remi: Snnnkk~, they actually went there~…
Flan: Now now, don’t laugh! These are pertinent questions!

Flan: The chair! Give ‘er the chair!

Remi: Oh joy, the exes are going to fight about why they broke up.
Flan: Still above Twilight.

Saph: Wasn’t she a lesbian…?
Remi: Still is.
Saph: Then how come—
Remi: She wants to be the man in the relationship.

Flan: Break that fourth wall, Wade Wilson! Blast it down brick by brick!

Remi: Ooooh dear oh dear~, Flan, what are you doing to me, I’m starting to like him.

Koa: For the love of fuck stop talking, skank! Point fucking made, now let him stew in it! You don’t, fucking, have to explain every damn detail!
Flan: I… actually think she’s reading her stage directions and script footnotes here.

Flan: Noooo, no. You stay the bloody hell away from the little girl, bitch, I will end you.
Saph: What is it with you and the little girl?
Flan: I want to be the little girl~
Saph: Oooooooold, dirt-old, even I know that.

Flan: Meanwhile, thousands of miles away…

Flan: You lie! YOU LIE! When will the lies end?!

Remi: Aww hell, is this going to be that Elektra scene in that god-awful Daredevil?
Flan: Surveeeeey says… Dolph Lundgren from Rocky IV.

Saph: Who’s he? Another good guy they mysteriously haven’t killed yet?
Flan: He’s also vaguely European, so… I dunno, points for that?
Saph: Can’t be that many points. Technically you’re vaguely European.
Flan: Technically I’m completely European, but, yeah, point made.

Remi: Uggh, if I had a quid for every time I’ve heard that line in a videotaped will.
Flan: In other news, everything that follows is plot and is in no way relevant to the movie.
Koa: Thank fuck for that.
>> No. 52869
File 133600802986.jpg - (57.83KB, 456x346, My sunglasses are better than your sunglasses.jpg) [iqdb]
Flan: Worst Patchouli. WORST PATCHOULI.

Flan: And who is this turtleneck-wearing travesty of a scruffyman anyways, is he supposed to be Peter Jackson?

Saph: Whoever he was he’ll never be seen again. In the film all of two minutes.
Remi: One of which was taken by that stale blind girl, the screen whore.
Flan: Ooo, ooo, shutup shutup, littlegirl’s back!

Remi: No, no, wrong, NO, hell no, never, no.

Flan: Hey! That’s exactly what I would have said~!

Remi: No, I’m not going to let this one go. He’s spent the whole movie whining about how “unworthy” they all are to become vampires, and then he just turns around and offers it to the little girl he’s never even met?! The hell with the purity of the young, that’s just sloppy writing.
Flan: Meanwhile, hipster chick manages her iTunes electropunk again.
Remi: Fourteen years, fourteen years from the first time you asked me, Saph, before I let you have the blood; This, is, not , Dracula!

Saph: Wait, waaait, copper-headed bullets? Against vampires?
Flan: Laaaaazy continuity guys, again and again.

Remi: Nnnuuugh, self-gratuitous “gearing up” scene and crotch rockets?

Saph: You know, I just realized… Only two people, storming an entire coven, at night even? When did they decide that was a good idea?
Flan: When Blade forgot to kill off the chick so he could take full advantage of his lone ninja skills.
Remi: Pssh, as much of a ninja as that abomination is Dracula.
Flan: Ninjas wear black! Sometimes! Or maybe purple! And shoot guns! Yeah!

Flan: BOOM, way to take that punch Ryan!

Flan: You see, only Deadpool is allowed to monologue the plot this blatantly and not have it be cliché, only Deadpool. I’ma keep saying it, ladies, this is it, ten years prior.

Koa: Bitch, slap harder than that I am through with your fucking pussy-ass rage.

Remi: She finally gets offended over that cuss of all things…? Pitiful.

Flan: There you go, Lilligan. “Cock-juggling thundercunt.” Your new slur of choice~
Koa: Fuck, and you.
Remi: Creative, but far too absurd to be of any value. Does your Wade Wilson really talk like this?

Remi: …really? Have they really stooped this low?
Saph: Apparently.
Flan: Huh, weird… Deadpool usually has better medium awareness than this.

Remi: Now it isn’t even impressive anymore, after that.
Saph: Apparently.

Remi: Ahh damnit, the punching again?! How many times is that now, four?
Flan: Now you know how they managed to drag this movie out for 112 minutes.

Remi: Come on, he’s even fighting grunts now; literal, faceless, grunts, with no weapons. They’re disposable! Where the hell is your sword, why do they even call you Blade for Christ’s sake?!
Saph: Remilia, I… You’ve just… I can’t even enjoy the movie anymore, all I can see is wasted time. Why’d you have to ruin the movie for me?
Koa: Welcome to my world, cunts.
Saph: Okay, you, shut up.
Flan: Sorry, I, I know I talk too much; I’ll be quiet… er.

Flan: Mythbusters said it doesn’t work!

Flan: Ooo, toys~!
Saph: I must say I do like toys.

Flan: Nooo, nooooo… nooo! Don’t you do this! Don’t, don’t, I’m warning—NO! NO! WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?!

Saph: I suppose on the bright side of things, they held off on the skinny-girl-kicking-ass scene for most of the movie.
Flan: If you think about it logically, she should be the one with the guns and Blade should be the one kicking said literal ass.
Remi: Please don’t say the word “logic”, Flandre. Please, do not make me go there. Not this late into the film.

Flan: Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Blade continues to oneshot every vampire he sees with impunity, despite not hitting them in the heart or head, directly contradicting the rules he himself stated in the first movie, which at this point doesn’t effectively exist since they retconned Kris Kristofferson’s death.
Remi: I told you, little sister~ Logic.

Saph: Oh joy, it’s that stupid knife shoe again.
Flan: Notice how the plot only allows her new gear when her old gear—see, NOTHING—is inadequate to deal with the trash mobs of the area. And then there’s Blade.

Remi: Woooahwoahwoahwoahwoah, did he just actually use Sakuya knives?
Flan: That’s what we’re calling them these days? Sakuya knives? Okay.

Saph: Is that actually a thing?
Flan: Just so’s you know, that is not actually a thing.

Koa: Uugh, how fucking stupid can you possibly be you dumb bitch?!
Saph: More like how contrived could the plot possibly be?

Saph: Oh come on! The girl gets to fight vampires and he has to fight the dog?!
Flan: I think what you mean is, all the other fights in this movie suck and this is going to be awesome!?
Saph: …I am so annoyed at how right you are right now, Flandre.
Flandre: Thank you~

Saph: Well… that was anticlimactic.
Flan: And yet, so so smooth.

Remi: What was that, Flandre? I think you were saying something about, smooth~?
Flan: If this wasn’t a kids’ movie, Remi, there are so many words I would like to say to you right about now.
Koa: You can have your cock-juggling thundercunt back now, kid. I don’t want it.
Flan: Oh, thanks. Just throw it over there on the pile you horse-humping bitch; I’ll get to it later.

Flan: Boss battle already? No mini-bosses?
Saph: The side-characters are dealing with the mini-bosses.
Remi: Yes, and let’s not forget the inevitable impending catfight, as much as I wish I could.

Remi: No you don’t, no you don’t like that! No civilized immortal likes to swear, it’s below you after a certain point!
Koa: Fuck your cunt, slut, I’m sitting right, here.

Saph: So, wait… Do Blade-vampires have improved strength? Because I can’t see this Reynolds guy trading blows with one if so.
Remi: It just… doesn’t… matter, anymore. Nothing, really matters…
Flan: Aaaaannyone can seeeeeeee~…
Saph: That nothing really matters…
Koa: …nothing fucking matters…
Flan: To meeeeeeeeee~!
Remi: I don’t even know why I let you live in my house.

Flan: Saphhy, you know the swords, yeah? How are the swords here?
Saph: The swords are… decent. Like I said, you have to look at where they’re aiming. If they’re aiming for each other? Good swords. If they’re aiming for the other person’s sword? Bad swords.

Flan: Dude, you just got caught camping, noob~

Saph: Ehh… That death’s not really doing it for me. Cute, yes, but not all that inventive.

Remi: What?! Okay, no, no damn it, no. Again, you have the element of surprise, just cap the bitch! One shot, boom, there, dead. Or is it against your precious Ryan Reynolds’ rulebook to do that?



Saph: What’s this? Your Dracula is evolving!
Remi: He is not my Dracula.
Flan: Congratulations! Your DRACULA has evolved into A POINTLESS ABOMINATION! And then it does the little evolve jingle thing, like, “Dooouuu, deh deh deh dooo dooo dooooouuu!” Yeah, it’s actually not, all that funny, I hate this movie, Ryan Reynolds is cool though, Wesley Snipes wasn’t in The Expendibles because he didn’t pay his taxes. Real Soviet damage.

Remi: I swear to God if I see that man punch a vampire one more time…!
Flan: All this could have been prevented if Wesley Snipes would have just started air guitaring, because as you know, Remi, the demon code prevents him from declining a rock-off challenge.

Saph: Come on, she still has the earbuds in?

Remi: I…’m honestly impressed.

Flan: Wait, what? WHAT?! WHAT THE FFFFFFFF…!
Remi: I am, no longer impressed.

Remi: So, this perhaps is a bad time to ask, but… what was the point of all this again?
Flan: Lilligian, if you can manage to give a coherent PG-rated summary of this movie in under a minute, I swear to God, my sister, and the actual pair of sunglasses worn by Gary Oldman in Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula that I will not speak to you for three entire months once the credits of this movie are over.
Koa: Fucking hate you so fucking much… Wesley Snipes once again reprises his role as “Blade”, the sword-wielding no-compromise half-vampire determined to eradicate the rest of his full-blooded kin from the face of the Earth for no adequately explained reason. His task is made more difficult by increasing vampire infiltration of the media and law enforcement, who seek to paint Blade as a sociopathic serial killer. Meanwhile, a coven of young and upstart vampires whom Blade just hasn’t gotten around to killing yet manage to unearth and resurrect Dracula—played by Dominic Purcell—the legendary progenitor of the vampire race who has waged war on humanity for millennia. They believe Dracula will aid them in bringing about a new age of dominance for their race, but the ancient vampire is not so easily swayed, except that he is. Blade is later captured by a police ambush that takes the life of his adoptive father “Whistler”—played by Kris Kristofferson—but is rescued by an equally young and upstart band of vampire hunters that call themselves “Nightstalkers”. They plan to use an airborne supervirus—codenamed “Daystar”—to eradicate vampires for good, but Daystar will only reach maximum potency when mixed with the blood of Dracula himself. A sneak attack leaves the Nightstalkers crippled, but the two surviving members team up with Blade in a final showdown to defeat the coven, inject Dracula with the virus, and eliminate the vampire population once and for all. Ryan Reynolds co-stars, fuck your cunt with a rusty ten-foot pole.
Flan: Kaythanksbye.
Saph: …do you actually need to breathe?

Saph: Laaaaaaame, totally lame. I’m sorry but I’m just not emotionally involved with this character. What is this, some last-ditch attempt to make Dracula a misunderstood villain with good intentions?
Remi: It’s a last-ditch attempt for them to continue sucking.

Flan: The crane-shot death scene in Dungeons and Dragons was better.

Saph: Wait… All this time, the vampires were living at the top of a glass skyrise, FACING EAST?!

Remi: Because we couldn’t end this movie without even more unnecessary slow-motion.

Saph: And the riot squad is trespassing on a private penthouse eight hours after everything relevant there already happened because…?

Saph: Does the sweeping orchestra music seem entirely wrong to anyone else right about now…?
Flan: The hipster chick left her iTunes playlist on Shuffle; only possible explanation.


Remi: I, just… I would be surprised, but I just, can’t, care anymore.

Saph: Okay so hang on hang on hang on hang on… Blade is still out there hunting vampires even though they’re supposedly all dead…?
Remi: It’s called sequel fishing, dear.
Flan: Actually it’s called TV-series spinoff. That final solution super-virus? Yeah, it had a range of about one city block. Maybe.

Remi: Thank god that’s over with.
Saph: Superimposed ending credits never looked so good.

Flan: Noooo, no! Why Stan Lee, why did you have anything to do with this?!
Remi: Executive Producer, Flan, please; like that really means anything.

Remi: Seriously? George Drakoulias, music supervisor? Drakoulias? Seriously?!

Saph: Actually somewhat impressed they held off on the rap music until the credits, you know?
Flan: Iunno, could have sworn they used it in one of the montages.
Remi: Yes, but do we really care?

Flan: Yeah, Ryan Reynolds, baby! Come girls, come on, you’ve got to admit he was the best part of this movie!
Remi: I won’t, because he shouldn’t have been.
Flan: So, what, you’re going to give it to—oh, the lespire was Parker Posey…?
Remi: I’m not giving it to anyone.
Saph: He wasn’t that bad, Remilia. I mean, you do have to look at these films for what they are.
Remi: You go and lower your standards, little missy; don’t ask me to lower mine.

Saph: So, now that it’s over can I mention something that was bugging me?
Flan: Hang on, wait until the cast list. There’s always some good bit part character names in there.

Flan: Wait, woooah… Francoise Yip was in this? Where?!
Saph: Who’s Francoise Yip?
Flan: Come on, Saph, Rumble in the Bronx!

Flan: Look at all these vampire names… “Dex, Gedge, Doh, Squid, Flick, Proof, Hoop…”
Remi: “Goth Vixen Wannabe”.

Flan: All right, cast list over, go ahead Saphhy.
Saph: So, the bow-and-arrow chick… She shoots Lurch or whoever in the head with an arrow, and he doesn’t die. Except every other vampire she shoots with those same arrows bursts into flames. I mean, and Remi, you even caught that too! Where are the continuity guys in this film?
Remi: Hell with a continuity guy, where’s any geek producer in this film?
Flan: Yeah, yeah, I know, plotholes big enough to drive Kris Kristofferson’s Rubber Duck truck through, you learn to get used to them, whatever.

Saph: Let’s be serious for a moment…
Flan: Not happening, but please continue~
Saph: At the end of the day, are we going to call these vampires or not?
Remi: By the skin of their fake pointed teeth, and with extreme prejudice, yes. They drink blood for sustenance, have vaguely improved physical ability, and are weakened by sunlight and silver; the barest of minimums for a Hollywood vampire. They’ve fallen so far from the tree now with real vampires I don’t know why I even bother expecting better of them.
Saph: Come on, Let The Right One In was good!
Remi: Aaaand Let The Right One In wasn’t Hollywood, remember?
Saph: Oh yeah…

Flan: Speaking of vampire movies with little girls in them… What the friggy friggin frig happened to the little girl in this movie?!
Saph: She, umm—
Flan: EXACTLY! She literally disappeared! I mean, faux action girl saves her from… chains, I guess, and then next scene? GONE. Poof, nope, nothing, gotta go climb down these convenient support beams and shoot Dracula in the back of the head so I can say my character did something. No resolution! If you’re going to give me candy, David Goyer, at least give me the decency to suck on it more than twice, maybe?
Remi: Speaking of lesbian vampires~
Flan: Oh, who, me? No, no, I’m cool, I’m only gay for K.K., but I hate that bum right now.
Saph: Please tell me the first part isn’t actually true, Flandre; she’s an awful woman and you know it.
Flan: Woman? I was talking about Kris Kristofferson, who are you talking about?

Flan: Heck yes, visual effects made by GIANT KILLER ROBOTS. I think nothing more need be said. Good night, ladies.

Remi: I feel like I need to watch Let The Right One In after this just to wash the bad taste out of my mouth.
Saph: Actually, can we watch the American adaptation Flandre bought instead? I’d like to know how they changed it from the original.
Flan: Wha, “Let Me In”? Because American audiences get bored too quickly and won’t read a title more than three words long? Yeah, it holds up. It’s got the girl what was in Kick Ass in it. She was only thirteen and she gets to say fuck in that movie!
Saph: Can I just forget that Nicolas Cage was even in that movie?
Flan: No. No you may not. Now if you would be so kind, I would very much appreciate it if you would start taking actions to return that playful little plush cottontail you’ve got clutched in your dirty mitt to my state-mandated cardboard bin of personal effects, in a rather rapid matter as I am not in the least bit calm right now and am wont to break your neck.
Saph: …what?

Saph: Hey, Flan? Have you ever actually counted how many different names are in the typical movie?
Flan: NnnnngaaaaaaaAAAAHHH! Damn it, Saph, I’m an obsessive-compulsive, you know I’m an obsessive-compulsive! No, I have not counted how many names are in a movie, but I’ll damn well have to now! Thanks for ruining every movie for me for the rest of forever, wanker!
Saph: I, didn’t mean to…
Flan: Naaah, it’s okay, we’re cool~

Flan: Oooh, oooh crap, they’re listing the songs, I forgot I can’t talk to Lilli after this! Lilli, Lilli, quick, you have to talk to me, I don’t know what to say!
Koa: Good.
Flan: Aaahh, buggerbuggerbugger, come on, come on come on, think of something! Lilligan… Morrigan? Darkstalkers is basically dead now, but she’s still getting in games; don’t you think that’s cool? And somehow Hsien-Ko got into MvC3…? Deadpool was a good choice for that roster; got him into the limelight. Mainstream… What does that even mean? Is it a metaphor for a literal stream a whole bunch of tributaries flow into? Hipsters actually look like rubbish when you think about it; it’s not unique, it’s just sloppy. Raybans? I don’t think you’d look very good in Raybans, Lilli. It takes a special look to pull those off. A look that died in the 80’s, by the way. Do you ever think your boobs are too big? Well, yeah, I mean, of course you do, you hate looking like a slut since you’re not, but besides that. Are we supposed to assume that supernatural beings just have really strong spines and don’t get backache from all that imbalance? Unless their buttmeat balances them out or something…? But if we know you can change your physical appearance at will, why do you even keep them? Poignant irony? I swear no one’s going to get that joke, Lilligan. I’ll still support you, though~
Koa: Got a damn ass-backwards way of showing it, limey bitch.
Flan: Yyyyyeah, I keep telling you I’m not British, but you’re never gonna listen.

Saph: Word.
Flan: Word.

Flan: Ooo, ooo, bonus ending! I’ve never seen this before!

Saph: Agr—
Flan: No, no talking. It’s over. Burn this. I’ve already got it on Blu Ray anyways. Take it, throw it in the microwave, there, done. We out, bitches.
>> No. 52873
>Flan: Oh, Whistler? He did, but they brought him back when they made the sequel. You know, vampire shenanigans.
>Remi: No. No I don’t know.

I need to get that movie. Those shorts are like icing, but without cake.
>> No. 52893
Flan does bring up a good question: Why does Koa keep her huge rack? (only outsized by the chip on her shoulder) From all intents and purposes, she hates the stereotypical female demon/succubus tropes.

But yeah this was as good as I expected and I'm impressed with how Koa summed up the movie without some obscenity.
>> No. 53018
File 133652763074.jpg - (380.05KB, 1200x1125, Oh hey I found another one of these.jpg) [iqdb]
Sometimes frosting-induced sugar comas are just what the doctor ordered. So glad you approve~

But no, you don’t really need to get this movie. If you’ve got Netflix or a rental store nearby, sure, go ahead, but it’s probably not worth the irony to buy it outright. I mean, I only have it because it was in a discount combo pack with the other two movies and the TV show pilot.

Now if it was Dracula 2000, or dare I say it, Blacula…

>Why does Koa keep her huge rack? (only outsized by the chip on her shoulder)
Ahh yes, but that’s the key right there. Her abject hate for human depravity is trumped only by her love of that very same hate. The only thing she wants in life is to go back home, but since that’s denied to her, she’s forced to settle for the next-best thing: reveling in how bad this plane is compared to her own. Thus, she acts (and looks) in such a way as to make people deprave themselves or realize their own shortcomings, just so she can say “I told you so” and feel good about herself. Which might also explain why she bothers to put up with rubbish movies. Hate is a helluva drug.

Of course given as she’s in a mansion full of women, she might have chosen to exemplify the wrong type of sexual organ to bring out the worst in the residents. But that in itself raises a pertinent question: What sin is worse, lust, or envy?

>I'm impressed with how Koa summed up the movie without some obscenity.
Three months of silence from Flandre is well worth a minute of sincerity. And again, showing that at the end of the day it’s all an act and she can quit whenever she wants.

But hate is a helluva drug.
>> No. 53020
Each time I read something from this, I cry a bit when I remember the story is actually over. I'll never see more of your Flandre, the fairies and everyone the wway you wrote them again apart from sidestories now and then. Such is the sad fate of every story that ends.

Come to think of it, how do you feel about it yourself as the writer?
>> No. 53132
File 13372098959.png - (362.48KB, 364x1316, A Portrait of the Writer as a Young Lady.png) [iqdb]
>Each time I read something from this, I cry a bit when I remember the story is actually over. I'll never see more of your Flandre, the fairies and everyone the way you wrote them again apart from sidestories now and then. Such is the sad fate of every story that ends.
And don’t we all know it. You can see the even sadder alternative all over the site: stories that just continue on and on with no plan to end, many of them ultimately becoming unceremoniously abandoned when the troubles of life whisk their writers away. Better to shed a tear for closure than to shed a tear for a lack of it. But I thank you for crying; as odd as that sounds, you can’t cry unless you really care about something, and I’m always happy to find people who care about what I do.

>Come to think of it, how do you feel about it yourself as the writer?
Now that is a big question. I'll try to answer it as simply as possible, but without just gushing for a dozen paragraphs there's no way I'll be able to cover everything. I can definitely say my feelings are overwhelmingly positive; AFT was a much bigger investment of my time and effort than ASSM or anything I’d written before it, but I feel that the effort really paid off. That's one of my greatest accomplishments with the story, in my opinion: that I was able to learn from the low points of my previous story and improve to make something even better. AFT is really one of the first pieces of writing I was able to look back on after the fact and say, "I am genuinely proud of how this turned out"; the same cannot be said of ASSM, or even of some of the things I've written after AFT.

Every time I go back to look or think about AFT, I'm amazed at just how much I learned through it, both about writing and about myself. I have a feeling that in ten or twenty years I'm going to look back on everything I've written and say that this story is the one that changed the way I look at writing. Which is not to say that I feel this is my opus, but rather that it’s the first story in a new era of writing for me. It's shown me just how much I enjoy strong and unique characters in a story, and more importantly the way they interact with each other (See stories like Firefly or The Avengers). It's shown me how much I enjoy the strange hybrid blend of fantasy and reality; taking a fantastical concept that cannot exist, accepting it for what it is, and then having it interact realistically with its surroundings (See stories like Inception or District 9). And along with that, it's shown me how much I enjoy the hybrid blend of light-hearted seriousness. That, I believe, is actually the key that makes AFT even more serious than the ever-grimdark ASSM; AFT had ups and downs, humor and solemnity, and it's that contrast which makes you appreciate the two sides more than when you just have one or the other.

Writing has no longer become a chore for me; it's become something I want to do, something I enjoy doing, even more than playing them there vijya games, and to geek types like us that is saying something (though, let it be known that even if writing is more enjoyable to me than video games, writing is still a lot of work, and there's some times in life when you just don't want to work). I enjoyed writing AFT not simply because I enjoy writing, but because I enjoyed what I was writing. I loved seeing the characters I created come to life and witness the adventures they had, and I'll make every effort in the future to never write something I do not enjoy. It's just like any other pasttime: you should play a video game because you enjoy playing it, not because you want to get yourself higher on the leaderboard, and if a movie strikes the perfect chord in your heart why should you care if it's only sitting at 17% on Rotten Tomatoes and no one wants to watch it with you? They're strange parallels to make, I know, but I'm being quite serious here. AFT started me on the path to looking at what it really means to "enjoy" something, and that's something that's always going to stick with me.

Two more minor tangential points here. First, I got into writing simply because I couldn't draw very well, nor could I animate, and I was too embarrassed to try acting. I'd always wanted some sort of outlet to take the awesome ideas in my brain and make them more than just ideas. At one time or another I'm sure we've all wished that some sort of Dream Machine existed that could take our fantasies and make them real. For me, writing is the next-best thing.

Second, you know how they always say, "If you're going to complain about it, why don't you make a better one?" Well, that's what I'm trying to do. Maybe one day I'll try to make a better Twilight. Or a better Avatar. The plot of that movie is really generic when you look at it critically.
>> No. 53134
Not the one that asked how you feel, but wow. That's pretty inspiring.

...I need to go reread AFT, now.
>> No. 53200
File 13374318283.jpg - (1.29MB, 1920x1200, d6d151fc1b31433974002ba15f2a2ed8.jpg) [iqdb]

As a writer, I envy you even more than ever after reading this post. I wish I could speak more of mind, but you have said basically what I wanted to say.

Looking forward to read more stories from you, Owen. Have a Flandre.
>> No. 60252
Okay, what the hell keeps bumping this story?
>> No. 60253
Ad bots. Mods delete the spam but it doesn't unbump it.
>> No. 60254
I kind of want to put a motivational quote here, since this thread gets bumped every year or so by that spambot. Sort of like a time capsule for my older self.
>> No. 60255
File 139147702050.jpg - (1.44MB, 1200x1025, Flandragon.jpg) [iqdb]
I think the spambots are just trying to make me feel guilty for not writing more Touhou. It’s not going to work, but I’m really impressed with their persistence, so I figured I’d throw them a bone. Hi anyone who’s still here! Always nice to see that I’m not totally forgotten~

Writing status: Spotty. I tried writing daily snippets last year to keep my muse going, but all I ended up with was a lot of pointless snippets and not a lot of muse. I’ve got an original story I’m going nowhere fast on, and while it’s not Touhou-related, I keep accidentally making the characters loose analogs of Touhous; at this rate it’s probably going to turn into a spiritual successor to A Fairy’s Tale if all the characters were twenty-somethings with first-world problems. And you know what, I would be totally okay with that. Somebody inspire me to work harder on that; I’m doing an awful job of it by myself.

Go for it, sister~

This pic needs to be MORE RELATED.
>> No. 60256

Holy shit, it's Owen. He's. . . real.
>> No. 60258
So I made an epub file for A Fairy's Tale. Kinda did not copy well at some places and divided by threads for chapters. And another file for the extra stuff here.

Should I upload them?
>> No. 60260
File 139156791192.jpg - (84.33KB, 565x800, c6993bd2df827ded85e319693a503c08.jpg) [iqdb]
>A Fairy’s Tale if all the characters were twenty-somethings with first-world problems.
That sounds awesome. DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT

>Kinda did not copy well at some places
I don't understand, you fucked up copying and pasting? Why wouldn't you fix it?
>> No. 60262
Because it took time making the whole thing and I didn't feel like looking over it now?

And it's really just some spacing mistakes.
>> No. 60263
File 139164015333.jpg - (206.40KB, 600x390, ART.jpg) [iqdb]
Think of the beauty you will create, Owen. Feel the world deep inside of your soul and bring it to your fingertips -- bring it to life, write it, mold it. Breath your passion into ideas, ideas into story, and story into art. Take up the metaphorical pen, and with it, assume the role of the author!

>> No. 60288
I support the motion about AFT's character as twenty-something with first world problem, as well.
>> No. 60289
I don't. That sounds boring as hell.
>> No. 60305
File 139200219470.jpg - (414.71KB, 1000x1219, The Contemporary Flandragon.jpg) [iqdb]
That is not dead which can immortal lurk around but not on #THP so no one knows where he is,
And with strange eons even death may repurpose this tortured Lovecraft quote.

Go for it. AFT is free for viewing already, so I don’t mind if you want to put up a different viewing format for it. Just so long as you don’t try to publish it or make money off of it or anything.

They say repetition is the sincerest form of flattery. I’m flattered~

Wow… That’s some grade-A grandiose inspirational talk right there, Flanders! It's actually really hard for me to read that when it’s so out of phase from the writing style of the story itself.

Oh ye of little faith. It’s an author’s job to make a boring topic something you want to read! AFT’s creation was predicated on my belief that I thought the slice-of-life genre was boring as hell but I was going to write it anyways because deep down, I knew I was going to enjoy it.

In any case, I might start posting bits of the story on here, if for no other reason than to show to this site that I haven’t forgotten about it, or about writing. Zero guarantees about any sort of regular progress, and this is a nothing but a rough draft so I fully expect to change large parts of it in the far future, if I ever get that far.

All jokes aside, it really does bring a smile to my face when I see even one or two posts still interested in what I have to write, Touhou or not. As one of the “old writers” on THP whose works of note are years in the past, knowing that I’ve in some way stood the test of time is one of the great compliments I could receive. Thank you~

Here, you can have this; it was just lying around. It’d probably start going bad in a few days anyways. It’s not like I think you’ll like it or anything.


She has been referred to as "wispy", and it has been commented in jest that she might blow away in a high wind. Once when she was eleven years old, she did. That day she was very happy. That day she also learned why nobody likes stitches. She stands five feet, eight and one half inches tall, which is approximately four inches taller than the reported statistical average for women in her country. She weighs between 107 and 138 pounds, depending on what she has in her pockets, and how many helium balloons she is holding. Her hair has a slight wave to it, curls down well past her shoulders, and is a not altogether completely unique shade of light strawberry blonde. She plans to continue growing it out until she begins to notice perceivable negative looks concerning its length, as a personal experiment to determine what is considered "too long". "Too short" is defined as a length where hair will no longer rest flat under its own weight, plus about one inch. If one were to observe her face at a close enough distance where, were she of a different disposition, chemical mace would not be found guilty by a trial of peers, one might notice the not-yet-faded ghosts of various skin blemishes which haunt many youths during their later years of education. Her freckles, however, remain prominent, as do the two pronounced dimples in her nose where glasses currently do not rest and cannot hide a pair of statistically average brown eyes. She has difficulty reading the exact price of gasoline on a road sign until it is nearly too late to brake without garnering the scorn of more hasty motorists behind her, but she deplores contact lenses. Her hands are thin. Her torso is thin. Her legs are perhaps not as thin as might be expected. She has been called "pretty" only by a select few female acquaintances, and "beautiful" only by family members. She has not been called "cute" that she can recall, and if anyone has ever called her “hot” or “fine” they were too drunk for the word to mean anything to her. She knows for a fact that she has never been called "gorgeous", "stunning", or "radiant". She also knows for a fact that she does not particularly mind.

Her name is Cecile Lauren Smith. She is twenty-four years old. Her friends call her Cecile. They call her this because they know how to pronounce her full name correctly, because they are her friends. People that are not her friends call her Cecile. But they pronounce it the wrong way.

There are a lot of people who pronounce her name the wrong way.

Actual Spoiler: Cecile Smith is an analogue of Koishi Komeiji.
>> No. 60312
That's interesting and all, but 'Cecile Smith' sounds like an incredibly made up name. Most names with 'Smith' end up sounding that way, for some reason.
>> No. 60313
File 13920776889.gif - (487.33KB, 180x115, HE WRITES.gif) [iqdb]

I like this style. How can I explain? It kind of reminds me of AFT's Flandre, only more structured. Great to see you around and stuff! You have my support.

Also, Flandragon is best dragon girl.
>> No. 61647
Spambots love this thread for some reason. If you need it unlocked, let me know.
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