#but! it was a new route this time and i got some great images of the bridge and the big ass transformer for my darling

[mithridacy]

transfer buses love to be suddenly 30 minutes delayed when youre going to work

[brailsthesmolgurl]

LOSE YOU TO LOVE YOU

Preview: You had to lose your lover to protect them against harm but what happens when someday, fate connects the two of you again? Warnings: Angsty but yes to fluff too, slightly-slightly suggestive towards the end! this is gonna be a bit of a lengthy read as always

P.S: This is an extremely detailed request by one of you guys, its a bit challenging for me to write it hence I decided to take it upon my own twist for the story. Or else, I might actually get so demotivated to write this piece and I do not wish for that. Overall plot would still be half-preserved but I had decided not to use any names just for the overall inclusivity for other readers. Great ideas should be shared and I think my readers would like to be included too in this wonderful plot :)

"What...what have you put into this y/n?" Rafayel stumbled, the mug slipped out of his hand when his legs started buckling beneath him. He was in disbelief as he watched the mug broke upon impact against the hard tiled floor. It was like time had slowed down for him and he could only blame the orange juice he had drank. "Y/N!" He calls out to you again, hands now clasping onto his slender neck when he slowly crumpled to the ground. Yet, his calls for you fell upon deaf ears, four walls on each side of the room watched him suffer.

You peeked over the heavy door leading to his room and your eyes watered at the sight of your fiance lying motionless on the ground. Knocking him out is the only way you can think of the moment you were threatened by an elite group of assassins. They are the reason behind his bounty value--that had exceeded by two million-- and they presented the only option for you to 'save him' is by leaving him.

They cornered you on one of the days when you were out dealing with Wanderers. Although you are fairly combative, one woman against a dozen of elite assassins would not grant you a survival route. Hence, you were practically forced to listen to their proposal. Not much details were disclosed to you about why they were willing to retract the bounty for your fiance but you figured if he could live a better and safer life without a bounty hung on his head then why not? Even if you were to be at their disposal.

"Leave him and he shall walk like a free man he once was." You remembered the grim voice of a man as he relayed the terms and conditions to you. "We do not seek a confrontation here as you are with child."

Flashing back to the present, you lightly rubbed your belly, still wondering how they know of your pregnancy when it was not even announced to Rafayel. This further tells that those assassins are not to be messed with. "I am sorry." You knelt down beside your lover, studying his peaceful features as he was snoozing. "I am sorry I have to do this to you. I promise you that I will be back for you when the time is right." Pushing yourself off of the floor, you left without turning your head back. Each step taken ripped your heart out of your chest even more.

Years had gone by, with you disappearing off of the grid and went into hiding. During then, you had been living under a pseudonym, revamping your whole image and identity to go full on undercover. You did this because you did not want Rafayel, nor anyone from your past to track you down. However, peacefulness does not last long when news of Rafayel’s bounty is on the rise again and it got you wondered what he could have done to piss them off. You did some digging yourself. With the help of your new identity, you can slip in and out of the clubs without a worry. Eavesdropping just enough to get the information you need to propagate further in tracking down the same man who once threatened you to leave Rafayel.

The trail has led you back to Linkon City and you stood at the balcony of the unit you had rented, overlooking the scenic view of the concrete jungle below. The city has changed a lot since the last you had been here and that is probably years ago. “Mummy.” A child-like voice snapped you out of your reminisce and you looked down, watching the toddler walking up to you. A perfect photocopy of your ex-lover; with dark purple locks smooth to one’s touch and eyes the same as his hair. He is like a doughy-faced version of Rafayel. The child that you bear while you left Rafayel now stood in front of you, eyes full of hope before another similar face joins him. Yes, you gave birth to twins. The other is yet another photocopied version of Rafayel, but adorns the eyes as deep as the blue sea. That is how you manage to tell them apart from one another.

“Mummy you okay?” The blue-eyed toddler followed up with the question. Although only been in this world for three years, the both of them had grown so much, not only in terms of height but also knowledge and other aspects that would commonly be found within a toddler’s growing age. They inherited Rafayel’s artistic talent; always doting on painting to pass time whenever you are home with them. Whereas from you, they certainly are highly adaptable and smart. “We go for walk mummy?”

“Yes, let’s go for a walk.” You stood upon and went over to the front door to grab your coat, handing the twins their coats as well. “Put them on alright, the night is going to be chilly and I do not want you guys to be sick.” Out of habit, you slotted your baseball cap right over your head. It is a good strategy to not stand out from the crowd when you get to shield parts of your face at certain angles. You grabbed your wallet and phone and proceeded to walk out with the twins.

Nights in cities are never boring; with bustling traffic and chatters hailing from crowds. This was what you had missed out on for the past years. Staying by the countryside does have its perks but still, you missed the noises of a city that is alive. Dank pathways were sprawled out at the park as you walked with your toddlers by your side. The rain had just subsided and it smelled of dew and silt. But, something seemed off. There were hints of metallic smell in the air, a smell closely resembled to fresh blood. You stopped in your steps and started scanning the area, your ears perked up to maximise picking up even the slightest of gales. “I’m scared mummy.” Your toddler had seemed to pick up on the shift of aura as well.

A twig snapped and you too, snapped yourself towards the source of the sound, shielding your kids by pushing them behind you and hands dug deep into your coat, ready to draw out your weapon if danger ensues. Your eyes were narrowed into slits, relying on dimly lit street lamps to highlight the bushes in front of you. “You know what you should do right?” You looked down, watching your toddlers nod towards you. They were already trained from young to flee should there be any situation that requires them to. Both of them have a watch equipped with a navigation system that will lead them directly to the nearest police station or anywhere that is a confirmed safe house for them. With that, you ushered them and watched as your kids held hands with one another and started to tread lightly out of the park, the watch illuminating their way.

You pulled out your gun the moment an amorphous figure emerged from the bushes and before it could reach you, it burst into flames, screams of agony like a banshee on a killing spree tore through the empty park. Luckily, your children had already fled and a beep on your watch notified you that your kids are safe, and they are currently back to the unit that you had rented. You lowered your gun and stared at the tallowing figure in front of you, the blazoning red tinge of flames looked familiar, it was as if you had seen it—“Y/n?” You blinked, looking up to find another figure emerging from the same path taken by the man who had now disintegrated into ashes and blended into the night skies. “Is that you?”

“Rafayel?” Your jaw dropped, watching him emerged from the bushes. It must be because you missed him so dearly that your mind decided to deploy a mirage of him amidst danger right? It’s like those final wish scenes and you could not help but feel goosebumps slowly drawn to the surface of your arms. “You’re not real.”

The man in black clomped over and you stumbled backwards, gasps fleeting out of your lips as you thought you just saw a ghost. “Careful.” The grip on your arm gravitated you back to reality. You are now staring right into the eyes of your ex-lover, the same guy you thought was killed because there were no news of him anymore. The same man that you were forced to leave in order to protect his safety. The love of your life, the father to your twins. “You are back.” He enveloped you into his arms, his breath disheveled, his tone of voice ebullient. You were expecting a frustrated Rafayel, not forgiving you for leaving him, not acknowledging your existence because you had left him so suddenly without a reason.

Yet, you could not seem to fathom his current state as he held you tightly in his arms. Rafayel had been nothing but the bearer of a deft husk of a ‘widow’. Ever since he woke up to an empty home, he became relentless. Thomas too, was greatly affected by his melange of emotions. Everyone else who worked around him were forced to be more obsequious than ever, showcasing utmost sycophancy in fear of getting panned by the artist. For he had went through a change of heart, thirsting only for revenge upon the group of people that took away his lover. Succour was indeed offered by Thomas, to seek out information regarding your whereabouts. Rafayel agreed and thanked him, providing him all of the money needed to seek you out but deep inside, he knew that finding you would not be a simple matter and his worry haunted him further.

The walk back to your place was awkward, one-sidedly perhaps. Rafayel had not stopped talking, telling you about his journeys of tracking down every single one of the members of the elite group and threatening them to spill their guts about your whereabouts. Given that you left him on your own will, none of the men knew where you had migrated to and that literally got their guts spilled afterwards. He then went on, telling you about how he had handled the truth of you leaving him, that, when it came to a certain point in his life, he was the one that caused you the suffering instead. His words did travelled into your ears, but it was not being processed properly as you were too occupied on thinking about how does one tell their long time lover that they had became a father without their knowing?

The both of you stood at the front of your door now, you praying quietly to yourself, hoping Rafayel would not freak out if he were to meet both of your twins upon stepping into the entrance. You imprinted your thumbprint on the scanner and the door unlocked with a crisp click. Two sets of footsteps were heard clomping towards where you stood and you looked over to Rafayel immediately to analyse his reactions towards your twins. “Mummy— who’s this?” The both of your twins immediately froze, being only a couple of steps away and their eyebrows were strewn together in confusion. The father of the twins stood frozen too, eyes darting in between the two toddlers, noticing the familiar and yet uncanny features of theirs.

When Rafayel got to the leader of the elite group, he was foretold that you were pregnant when you left but he supposed that he was unable to take a grasp of time after you had left. Both of the boys are a bit taller than kids of their age, both rocking the same purple locks as his, pallid and flabby cheeks that Rafayel was certain to own when he was younger back in the days and not to mention, the both of them got your lips. Every lip motion is a total reflection of you. “You were pregnant with them when you left me right?” You took the note that Rafayel does probably know of the existence of you having a child but maybe, he is still in shock, not expecting twins at all. You nodded in response to his question.

Rafayel got onto his knees and smiled, tears started jerking around in his eye sockets, tainting his purplish-pink eyes a glassy tint. “I am your father.” He opened his arms to the twins but your kids cautiously looked over to you, awaiting for the confirmation as they had never seen their father before. Upon noticing your nod and smile, the twins squealed in surprise and hurtled themselves into his arms. Just like that, a family reunion happened.

“You already got them to bed?” Couple of hours later, Rafayel had placed the two reluctant twins of his to bed. Given both of the kids had been longing to have a father figure in their life, a few hours of interaction with Rafayel are definitely not enough for them. However, bed time at 9pm came to be an obstacle for the twins. Yawns started replacing laughs and Rafayel knew it was time to call off play time and switch to story time. You would usually read them to bed and Rafayel thought it is a great idea to put the kids at ease by telling his story, portraying himself to be the main protagonist set out on a journey to save a princess and to rescue her minions as well. The princess being you and yes the minions are the twins.

“Yeah, they could barely listen to my story for five minutes.” Rafayel plopped down next to you on the couch and extended his arm across your back, an invitation for you to lean against his shoulder and you did just that. “I might have went a little hard on them for the tag game.” That explains the heavy stomps and patters of footsteps coming from the room and hallways just now as you were taking a rest. You settled your longing gaze on your fiancé, realising that years had done no harm to him. The same hairstyle that he wears without much styling, the same siren like eyes that only holds you as the apple of his eyes, the same moles that were dotted across his face and the same warm smile he could ever emblazoned onto his features when it comes to being around you. He never changed.

As your insecurity started to settle upon you, particularly towards your own looks. Where time and stress has taken a toll on you, imprinting its effects with fine lines and wrinkles on your face, painting dark circles under your eyes and causing you to constantly wear a fatigued smile. “Do I look different to you even after all of those years Rafayel?” You peered up to him.

“My love.” Rafayel’s warm hand came up to caress your pinched cheeks, you had indeed became much more thinner than he last seen you, before you left him. He knew you must have not suffered any lesser when you had to constantly be on the run while having to bring up both of the kids by yourself as well. But, part of him was grateful that you no longer had to run, for he had eliminated every single member of the damned association. “You still look the same as how you always were.” His eyes wandered, down your cheeks and to your lips and back up again, lust wriggling its way through his gaze. “I missed you dearly my wife. I promise you that no matter what happens ever again, I will not let anyone convince you to leave me anymore. For I, will take full responsibility for the safety of our family.”

Your eyes reflected like glass under the dim lighting, words of affirmation coming from your lover after such a long time seized all of the rumination in your head. You did not notice the streaks of tears till you felt the pads of his thumbs swiped across both sides of your cheeks, his hand now fully cupping your small face. “Now, may I take the responsibility to care for my wife and to make love to you all night to prove my love to you?” The words he spoke were laced heavily with romance and lust that he had held back for years and little did you know, he is going to give you another child and make up for all of the lost times with you and his children.

A request from @cherriejoyponce, fulfilled with my own twist. Hope you like it!

[ravenfenty]

RUNNIN'

Pairings: STEVE ROGERS X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: None just fluff. I was in the mood for fluffy Steve. Enjoy. Images and gif not mine. Sort of edited

_________

Running was a favourite pass time of Steve. It was a great way to get your steps in and curb the anxious thoughts that'd creep in during the day. If he couldn't fall asleep, he'd walk if he woke up too early with fatigue leaving him he'd go for a jog.

Steve chose the same route all the time. 6am sharp, he was out of his apartment and running. Sometimes bumping into Sam.

"On your left."

"Oh, come on." Sam would call out, picking his own running pace to catch up to him.

Soon, more runners joined. It was the new craze online now, thanks to social media. News outlets and articles. Encouraging people to exercise and run.

You'd been roped in by those articles. There were so many health benefits, too. Great for cardiovascular health, brain health, and social health, you name it.

You wanted something different than the everyday gym visit. Soon, you saw yourself joining a run club. It was a nice group of men and women. Chatting as they jogged besides each other.

Your friend had joined alongside you with her husband. It was working great for her relationship, spending time with her husband as they both worked longish hours.

So most times, you are third wheeling. You didn't mind. You had others to chat to. As the months were getting cooler, numbers dropped. But you pushed through.

Today was your day off, and so you decided to run earlier. Putting on light but warm jacket and taking other needed essentials.

It was nice our birds chirping, lovely autumn colours displayed around you. You jogged slowly, taking in your surroundings. There were at least 20 of you were jogging this morning.

You heard footsteps beside. You turned your head to find. Steve figure touring over yours he was wearing navy blue sports pants and a grey compression shirt.

Wow

You thought to yourself.

That was the first of run-ins. It soon became a common occurrence. 6am, slow jog, and Steve running past you with Sam.

It became your favourite part of the day. Talking to Steve and Sam came easy, a nice conversation flowing. You'd even exchanged numbers with him and Sam.

Sometimes, Steve, Sam, your friend and her husband, and you went out for breakfast. Or hung out at dinners hosted at your apartment.

The warmer months were now approaching again, run ins with the super soldier and the falcon were not as much. Missions had, been keeping them away. And anyone who'd watched the news knew what was happening. The fight between the Avengers, Steve finding the Winter Soldier.

At times wouldn't get a text back until days later. Then they started dwindling....it sucked to say the least but you understood. Steve and Sam were put there protecting the world.

To say you didn't start to like Steve you'd be lying. The texts from him had turned flirty. You were skeptical at first but then started to flirt back.

You loved the deep conversations and the jokes you had going between the two of you and the deep timbre of his voice when he got a chance to call.

It was the evening and you were cooking a nice meal before you settled with champagne and a nice steak and veges.

A knock on the door. Caught your attention, you peeped through the peep hole. Steve stood there with flowers and a tuxedo.

"Hey".

"Hey."

"These are for you." Steve held out the bouquet of pink roses and white mixed in with baby's breath. You took the flowers, loving the welcoming sweet scent of the roses.

"Thank you, Steve, do come in."

Steve entered and closed the door behind the both of you. You walk to your pink couch, and Steve joined you.

"I'm sorry I've been ghost the past few months, I should have been more transparent."

"That's okay, I understand that you were busy, it's part of the job, hey. How have you been?".

"Yeah, a tough job, some days, but thoughts of you and calling you was a nice comfort. I've been alright, just glad it's all over. How have you been?".

"I've been good,just keeping busy with work. Back to the gym, there is no running club anymore, at least for me. I've missed talking to and running with you. "

"I've missed your company too. What I'd like to ask you Y/N. I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?".

"Yes Steve, I'd love to."

[eddiesghxst]

ALL I WANTED

part one | part two | part three

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

summary: your band, Daughters of Vampira, and Corroded Coffin hate each other and are struggling to keep a clean image in the media; so, in an attempt to solve the issue, your managers try to come up with a solution.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, cheating (reader is cheated on by her fiancé), themes of misogyny/sexism, and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 12.9k

| Daughters of Vampira setlist | Corroded Coffin setlist |

-story masterlist- | -main masterlist-

You were a musician. A rockstar. On your way to being one of the greats. Your band, Daughters of Vampira, was a small, feminist rock band out of Hawkins, Indiana. You created this band with your friends, Robin, Nancy, and Max, an outlet the four of you used to sing and write your little hearts out. You hit it big when you all moved to Los Angeles, playing at some lame bar when a producer walked up to you after the show, saying she wanted to see more, handing you a business card. 

Then boom. 

Everything was up from there. You got signed onto a record deal– played shows, signed autographs, walked carpets, and did interviews. Your wallet was a bottomless pit. En route to being wed, you got engaged to your production assistant turned bassist, and all was well— until about five minutes ago.

You came home from a day at the studio with your band, crafting a new song, playing with guitar riffs, and imagining lyrics. This track was going to be big; a song about your love for your fiance, a tale of how magnetic and beautiful every second was and will be.

You unlocked the door to your shared apartment, kicking off your sneakers, when you noticed a pair of red heels, which is weird because you hate heels. Maybe they were your friend Angie’s shoes; she knows where you hide your spare key and sometimes sneaks in when you’re not home. Furrowing a brow, you cautiously set your bag and keys down, looking around you for any more clues— her bag or her keys, anything. Your socked feet softly pad across your cold, wooden floors as you walk into the apartment's threshold, glancing into the kitchen. Nothing. You turned to the living room, unknowingly holding your breath—still nothing. Suspicion itches in your mind as you take in the space around you. You turn the corner to your bedroom and see the door left ajar. 

You almost think nothing of it; you wouldn’t be mad at Angie taking a nap in your room; she’s your childhood best friend, but then you hear it— the two voices. The first voice is your fiance, Scott, and the second is an unknown woman.

They’re laughing. They’re whispering about something you can’t hear either because they’re either speaking too quietly or your sudden rage is filling out the space in your ears; you’re not sure which it is. You quickly glance back towards the door, eyeing the heels for the second time— your heart drops.

It was Angie. Those were her heels; you helped her pick them out, for fucks sake. You storm up to the door and swing it open without a second thought, and your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had so badly wished your mind was playing some sick trick on you, and you were just hearing things. You were wrong.

Your fiance and childhood best friend, Angie, are sprawled out in your white-sheeted bed, heads laid on your pillows tousled, under your roof— and both incredibly naked. 

Despite the anger, your eyes quickly fill with tears, salty pools of resentment and betrayal threatening to spill over. Scott sees you in the doorway and scrambles out of bed, hastily grabbing a pair of boxers to pull over his bare hips. You can hear him sputtering out excuses, apologies, and reasons through the fog— so many words that sound like nothing but white noise to you. 

He stumbles his way over to you, hands reaching out to grasp you and raising in surrender when you yank away from him. You can hardly think; a cloudy moment where you feel as if the floor has been wiped from below you and you’re free-falling in some shitty excuse of a dream. 

“Sweetheart, please just listen–” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; the palm of your hand cracked down against his cheek to stop whatever bullshit excuse was coming. Angie shrieked, jumping out of bed, still with no clothes on, as she hurried to his side, an obvious two-against-one— that’s clarified when she shoots you a pointed look, fire building up in her eyes— and you can’t believe the audacity. 

Scott looks back at you, cheek red with the sting of your rage as he points a finger at you, “Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” he scolds as if you were a child, warning you to leave the cookie jar alone. You scoff, your mouth falling agape as you laugh humorlessly. “Me? Touch her?” You point to the naked girl. Your neck heats in fury as you shake your head, “That is rich, Scott.” 

You step back, eyeing both of them and ignoring the lump in your throat as you speak, “So, how long has this been going on?” They stare at you like they’re fucking clueless, and it ticks you off to no end, “In my own fucking bed? With my best friend?” Your tears are hot as they begin streaming down your cheeks, and the harsh swipe of your wrist to wipe them away stings, but you refuse to let them see you cry. Your mind is cluttered with questions, but they come out like bullets, firing round after round. 

Angie takes to answering you, saying your name to halt your questions, “We– we’re in love, and… and he doesn’t..” She looks to Scott for guidance, her eyes pleading for him to help her. Your fingers shake in anger.

“I want to call the wedding off,” Scott says, looking you in the eyes while he and your best friend link fingers. They look fucking stupid, standing there naked and feigning unity– you almost want to laugh. You scoff again, folding your arms over your chest like that would hide your pain from them, despite the evident ghost of tears still clinging to your skin. 

You glance around the room, around at the life you had planned for yourself, for him. Pictures of your engagement day, the closet you two shared, the fucking bed you shared, the life the two of you shared. More tears fall, and you don’t bother brushing them away this time. You nod, defeated.  “Yeah, that’s– yeah, we can… we can do that.” You wipe at your tears, fingers shaking with agony as you swallow the words. 

Your ex-fiance reaches out for your arm, and you back away, like he’s contagious– like his touch carries the heat of the sun. “Don’t touch me,” you snarled, watery gaze boring into his brown eyes. 

“The wedding’s off, so… Take your shit and,” you look at your childhood best friend— your ex-childhood best friend, and your heart aches. This fucking hurts. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you dismissively wave your hand towards the clothes strewn across the floor, “And take her shit and get the fuck out.” You turn to leave but stop when Scott speaks, “I can’t just do that; I–” He stutters at the stab of your glare, “I need to call a truck so I can carry everything.” 

You laugh, tilting your head, “Nah, don’t worry, I can help you with that.”

You pace to your apartment window, swinging it open and ignoring the confused voices behind you when you start picking up various items. Scott’s eyes widen as he watches you storm over to the window, a heap of his things in your arms. He scrambles to you, yelling as you toss his stuff out the window. He’s looking out the window, watching them fall, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You shriek after every item you throw: his computer, acoustic guitar, books on Logistics, and How To Save Money Like A Businessman. 

You flutter about the room, shaking Angie off when she tries to grab you, ignoring her when she falls to the floor in a heap of naked limbs. You pick up a pricey statue that was Scott’s, ignoring his protests, courteously tossing it out the window to join his items. 

You storm out of the room, glancing around for any of Scott’s stuff. Yes, this was your apartment, but you were working on sharing it— sharing it with him. Your fiance. Ex-fiance. You skirt out to the living room, the two lovebirds hot on your tail and begging you to stop. You walk over to the balcony doors, pushing them open and ignoring the sound of the doors cracking against the wall, some picture frames falling to the floor. 

Pictures of you and him. 

You pick them up and toss them over the balcony, looking around for any other fallen pieces. You thoroughly sweep your apartment— as thoroughly as you can through your tears of rage, gathering jackets, shirts, and shoes and carelessly tossing them over the balcony. You ignore them as they hastily put on their clothes, brushing past them to pace to the door.

Your gaze is hot and heavy on Angie’s heels. Those shiny, blood-red, smooth pumps. They oozed sex appeal and smirked at you, asking, daring, challenging you. Angie scrambles to you, yelling for you to put them down, yelling that they were Jimmy Choos, that they were expensive— like you would care. 

You shrug her off as you walk back to the balcony, hanging them over the ledge and turning to gaze at her as she watches with tears brimming. Pathetic. You look into her eyes and drop them— one by one, “Fetch,” you whisper hoarsely.

Angie begins to cry, turning and running to Scott, who points an accusatory finger at you, “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You couldn’t just end things like a civilized human fucking being?” He exclaims, “You are fucking insane!” He grits out, holding Angie by the waist. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have my shit,” he says scathingly.

When they both have an appropriate amount of clothes on— Angie settling for one of his oversized shirts and panties, him with sweats— Scott hastily searches for his keys. You watch them both, numb and unmoving, and it feels like your body is vibrating in a storm of emotions. Scott finds his keys and wallet, yanking Angie by the hand and hauling her out the door, but not before he shoots you a glare— a look that tells you it’s over. Completely done with no room for redemption— you don’t care either way.

The door slams shut, and silence fills the space. You stand there for what seems like eons, basking in the fizzling heat of your emotions before shuffling towards your bag near the door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You search for your lighter, growing irritated when it seems to be missing. You toss your bag to the floor with a curse and walk to the gas stove, turning the knob until a rim of flames arises. You slip the cigarette between your snot-slick lips, ducking your head towards the stove top and watching the cancerous stick catch fire. 

You stand upright, inhaling and puffing out the smoke. You grab your flip phone, shuffling towards the balcony for fresh air while you make a call, but to your dismay, a crowd is gathered below your building, watching and taking pictures. At closer glance, you realize these people are none other than paparazzi— the very bane of your existence. They’re already recording; you can hear them chattering about what they suspect is happening, making up stories for the cameras and soon-to-come tabloids. 

Then, to make matters worse, Scott and Angie skirt out from the building entrance and start picking some items up, the paparazzi asking various intruding questions. Scott has enough grace and respect for you to deny a comment, opting for catching a taxi with Angie instead. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back into your apartment and busy yourself doing a shitty job clearing the mess you’d made. However, like clockwork, your phone rings.

You know it’s Miss Sinclair; well, Erica, as she always corrects you. Your music manager, a firecracker, that one, but overall a good friend on your side. 

You answer, taking a drag from the cigarette as you step onto your terrace again, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What?” You ask snappily into the phone, glancing down at the crowd of people taking pictures of you. Assholes.

”What? What do you mean, what?” Erica hisses through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tiger?” A nickname she has for you that originated from God knows where. “Yeah, like… what’s up?” You play dumb, smiling sarcastically and waving innocently to the cameras below you.

“Why the hell do I have people blowing my line asking me why you’re tossing shit onto the streets of Los Angeles like it’s a goddamn Goodwill?” She impatiently asks.

You shrug, even though she can’t see you, “Dunno. See you tomorrow at the studio.” You pull the phone away from your ear, hearing her shriek and yell at you, commanding you not to hang up. You slap the flip phone closed, ending the call; her words cut off. You take another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony at the intruders, watching them back away to glare at you, yelling a few curses. You flip them two middle fingers in response before turning to walk back into your apartment, closing the doors behind you. 

You’re going to write a song. A kickass song.

“And then I threw all his shit out the fucking window,” you chuckle, retelling the story to your drinking companion, Robin Buckley, the drummer of your band. She smirks and downs another shot of vodka, “Yeah.. you uh,” she grimaces and smacks her lips at the bitter drink, “you created quite the stir earlier today,” She points at you and winks, picking up her forgotten glass of whiskey beside her and holding it out to you, in cheers. 

You sigh and smile, and inevitably you clink your whiskey-filled glass against hers as she says, “To shitty men and new beginnings— preferably with women,” she winks again, laughing along with you as you lighten up from her joke. You down the rest of your drink and put your glass down, sucking your teeth before rolling your lips inward as you stare thoughtlessly, the whiskey leaving burning kisses in your throat. 

The loud, underground celebrity-only bar drowns out behind you. What were you going to do? You had so much planned with Scott, an entire fucking wedding, a home, maybe even kids. And as if that’s not enough, you wrote an entire song about him. You were almost finished with it, so close to recording it and putting it out, maybe with tour dates to match. 

Now it's gone. Dead and buried. 

A whole song, written in 4 weeks, about your love, the love of your life, your supposed forever person, and he threw it all away. You knew love wasn’t easy. It never was, especially not after your rise to fame. It was hard to find time for date nights, for sex, for just seeing each other and talking. But you would’ve never imagined this to be how it ended.

You can’t help but feel as though this might have been your fault. Some small, pessimistic, mean part of you nagging that you could’ve prevented this if you had just changed. You tried to make time for Scott, you really did, but you got caught up in the music— the music for him. You worked tirelessly at it. For Scott to hear this song and immediately know it’s about him. You wanted it to be a wedding gift, maybe, to play it at your wedding for everyone to hear your love. You had never been so soft in a song, so open and disgustingly lovesick, and you wasted it all on him. Maybe it was your fault; perhaps it was for the better—

“Hey, you okay?” Robin cuts through your thoughts, “You went a little quiet there,” she smiles softly, playfully nudging her shoulder against yours. “Yeah,” you nod, “I-I’m good. Great.” You nod along with your words, trying fiercely to believe them.

You were not good, nor were you great. You were, to put it nicely, fucking wrecked. You were humiliated. How could anyone be okay after something like this? It was bad enough he cheated in the first place but with your best friend? You lost two of your closest people within the blink of an eye. It hurts more that they got each other while you got nothing but ghosts and memories. Scott was there for everything, your first real concert, the after-parties, the carpets. He was there for all of it. And he won’t be there anymore, and that hurts.

You shrug, laughing nervously and rubbing the bridge of your nose in distress, “I just can’t help but think that— that maybe this–” You motion your hands uselessly. Robin quickly interrupts you before you can finish your thought, “No. Do not go there. Are you insane? This,” she motions lazily over your figure, copying you, “was not your fault.” She shakes her head, sincerity laced within her voice and gaze. “Believe me when I say that— I would tell you if you were a crazy bitch, trust.” She smiles and nudges you again with her shoulder, pulling a laugh from you. 

You sigh, rotating your neck to stretch it out, rolling your shoulders, “So, like, what’s up with you?” You ask to lighten the mood, leaning on the bar counter with your elbows. It works because she laughs and nods, looking down at the glasses of whiskey as the bartender wordlessly fills them back up. She traces her finger around the rim of it, still nodding, “I-I’ve been good, you know,” she glances at you and shyly looks away when you begin to smirk, “Just sorta.. Hangin’ out, I guess. Shootin’ the shit,” she shrugs, and you laugh. “Yeah, so when did you guys hook up?” You say over your glass rim innocently, laughing even harder when the girl turns red in the face and sputters over her drink. 

“We did not hook up!” She exclaims, wiping the drink from her lips. “Me and Nance,” she shakes her head, “we just… We, like, hung out, you know?” She shrugged. You mockingly raise an eyebrow as she keeps talking, “And like smoked a bit and maybe drank and then like, there was a movie involved, and then she kissed me and—” You interrupt her rambling with a wave of your hand, “Alright, no more details. You totally hooked up,” you laugh, and she blushes harder, laughing and shaking her head, “Definitely did not.” she scoffs.

“You definitely did.” You challenge.

“Did not.” She shoots back.

“Did.”

She groans and shakes you, “If I pay for your tab, will you shut up?” she offers. You pretend to think dramatically for a moment before giving in and nodding, laughing when she slams a one hundred dollar bill on the counter and gets up, picking her leather jacket from behind her chair. “God, you are so annoying,” she complains, shucking her coat over her Daughters of Vampira band t-shirt. 

You get up, shrugging your leather jacket on and snickering, “Nah, you love me,” you teasingly say, shoving at her shoulder. She smirks and shakes her head, heading for the exit, “Yeah, you wish,” She pushes the door open and steps outside into the chilly Los Angeles night, immediately shoving her hands into her pockets. 

You opt for taking the damaged, smashed pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and pulling a matching lighter out. The lighter has a siren with long, blonde locks and a green, shimmery mermaid tail. You pull out a cigarette and stick it between your lips, igniting the flame and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. You bask in the warmth emanating from the flame, a soft heat kissing your nose. You pull the lighter away and puff, blowing the tobacco back out.

“Man, all I wanted was a peaceful drink, and I got verbally berated instead,” Robin jokes.  You laugh, blowing smoke in her face before stopping, looking ahead. You freeze, and not because of the air; the cogs in your brain start moving, fired up with the fuel of alcohol and the lightheaded buzz of nicotine. You still your movements, looking at your friend, “What did you say?” you ask slowly, pulling your gaze from the busy car-filled street. 

Her face heats up, eyes widening and hands flying from her pockets to raise in defense, “No, I mean, like— I was kidding. I wasn’t being serious—” you interrupt her by waving your hand hastily that was holding a cigarette, before looking at it and tossing it carelessly to the side. You aimlessly shake your hands at her, “No, what did you just say?” You stare into her eyes, watching as she tries to connect the dots. 

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, shrugging before saying slowly, “All I wanted—” You stop her, snapping and pointing, walking away and walking back, obviously pacing. “Yes! Yes— that. It’s perfect.” You stop pacing for a second, standing with your hands on your hips. Robin laughs nervously, fiddling with her zipper jacket, “Uh, what is happening right now? Am I in trouble?” she jokes anxiously, but you ignore her. 

You were thinking. Thinking hard. 

All I wanted. All you wanted? All I wanted. 

You repeat it to her, mumbling the words, gaze still focused on the ground, “All I wanted.” You say, pulling your eyes back up to hers. “Uh.. yeah– All I wanted…was a drink,” she parrots back, nodding dumbly, placating you like a small child doing a math equation. 

You smile mischievously, “Robin, you’re a fucking genius!” You all but shriek, earning some glances from the sidewalk. You pay no attention to them, but Robin does, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you into a walk, looking around her to not draw attention to the both of you, but it’s difficult when you’re wildly smiling and humming out a guitar tempo. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” She stresses, “Please tell me what’s happening; I have no idea what is socially acceptable to say right now,” she explains nervously, hand moving to grasp at your elbow, keeping you in motion. “Robin, we have to go to the studio right now,” you beg, looking her in her eyes, your gaze shining in inspiration. “What? No, what? Why?” She steps in front of you and halts your walking, “What is happening?” she pleads, leaning forward and pressing her palms together in a praying motion— silently asking you to please elaborate. You move past her, still walking, still thinking. 

Robin jogs to catch up to you, “Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” she begs. You look at her and smirk, “I have an idea for a song,” you conclude. Upon hearing this, Robin smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“Hit me, Tiger.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh when his friend tells him what happened. He pauses for a moment, staring at Scott and waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he never does, and Eddie nearly dies of laughter, the rest of the band along with him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps between laughter. Gareth snorts, raising his eyebrow in shock as he speaks, “She threw your shit out the window?” 

Scott rolls his eyes, flipping the brown-haired boy off, sipping his beer, and leaning back into the red leather couch. Eddie shakes his head as he swivels around in his chair to mess with the studio soundboard, “That’s what you get when you fuck crazy bitches, man,” Eddie laughs, glancing up to watch Jeff mess around with chords in the sound booth. He listens as he speaks, “I mean, sure, she was hot,” He shrugs, reaching over for his box of cigarettes, “Insane tits or whatever, but at what cost?” He snorts. 

Scott shrugs, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the bottle into the small trash bin near the soundboard. 

“I mean, the sex was definitely good, but she just— I dunno, man,” he shakes his head and dismissively waves his hand, “She’s too much of a firecracker. Angie is way more docile,” he concludes. He snickers as he thinks it over, “Easier to deal with,” he smirks, reaching down to the floor to pick up another beer. Gareth snickers and Eddie grimaces with a shake of his head; he then smirks as he slides a cigarette between his lips, “Nah, the firecrackers are the fun ones, man.” he speaks around the paper as he lights the cancerous stick, sucking and blowing out the smoke. “So, what now?” Gareth asks, taking a swig of his drink as he looks at Scott. 

Scott shrugs, opening the glass bottle of beer and sipping it, “Yeah, y’know… no wedding, I’m with Angie, whatever,” he says, and Eddie chuckles, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, “Yeah, I get it,” he nods, taking another drag off his cigarette, lost in his thoughts. You’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good… A lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Wait, guys,” he swivels around in his chair to face Gareth and Scott. The two boys look up at him as Eddie speaks, “We’ve all had crazy girlfriends, right?” His gaze bounces between the boys as he puffs on the cigarette before standing up and pushing the bud of it into Gareth’s bottle, much to his dismay. He ignores Gareth’s complaints, ignoring the boys laughing at him, pacing the room, mind swirling to the sound of Jeff’s guitar. 

Through the fog of chords and lyrics, Eddie continues speaking, “All of our ex-girlfriends— and ex-fiances,” he blindly points to Scott as he paces, ignoring when Scott scoffs, “are crazy bitches,” he points out, looking back at the group. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I had a normal fucking girlfriend,” he snickers. The boys look at Eddie as if they’re concerned, confusion written across their faces that Eddie could care less to ease, “This is fucking inspiration, boys! Let’s write this shit down,” He leans on the soundboard, “Let’s expose this chick,” He snickers.

He walks into the sound booth and grabs his guitar from the stand, pulling the strap over his neck as he nods toward Jeff, “Keep playing that,” he orders. Despite his masked confusion, Jeff continues to play the riff he’d been tweaking. Eddie steps up to the mic in the middle of the sound booth, reaching for the headphones to slip them over his head, leaving one ear uncovered. He gestures to Gareth through the glass, motioning for him to tag along.

Gareth puts his beer down and walks in, glancing at Eddie in confusion, “You gonna tell us what we’re playing or?” He sits behind his drums as Eddie tweaks the strings on his guitar. “Just follow along, man.” Eddie distractedly mumbles. Gareth and Jeff glance at one another— Eddie often has moments like this, and they have yet to get used to it. Gareth shrugs, picking up his deeply mangled drumsticks and tapping a beat to Jeff’s strings.

Eddie mumbles to himself, fingers ghosting chords over the frets as he nods his head to the beat. He picks up with Gareth and Jeff’s sound, shredding along to create a fuller sound, the images of the music he’d composed in his mind coming to life just below his fingertips. Scott watches from outside the sound booth, standing up to lean over the soundboard. He watches, intrigued, as they play together, wordlessly tweaking until they all compliment each other. Scott reaches over with a smirk and hits the record button just in time for Eddie to chime in on the mic, finally spitting out the lyrics they’d all be waiting to hear.

And it’s fucking good. 

“Alllriiight!”

It’s raunchy, unhinged, and all things dirty. On top of that, it’s a massive fuck you to Scott’s ex, and Scott can’t keep the grin off his face as he adds the bass to the track, snickering at the words Eddie sings. They work on the song all day, throwing in new verses and tweaks until they feel satisfied for the time being. They sit outside the sound booth and nurse a round of beers as they play the song, listening to what they have so far, grinning and nodding along to the beat, laughing at the absurdity of the lyrics.

“Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I’m on top of it.”

“It’s good… as much as I hate to say it, it’s good.” Scott laughs, rolling his eyes when the boys cheer. Sitting on the swivel chair in front of the soundboard, Eddie reaches out and nudges Scott's foot with his own, “You might get a few slashed tires when she hears this, you know.” He snickers over the rim of his beer bottle.

Scott laughs and shrugs, “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.” He jokes. The boys all laugh, watching Jeff as he raises his beer in the gesture of a toast, “To crazy bitches.” The boys all raise their beers in unity, parroting back, “To crazy bitches!” They clink their drinks and laugh, taking sips.

“You’re crazy, but I like the way you fuck me.”

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream,”

Your voice filters through the speakers, thick studio headphones skewed on your head as you fiddle with the soundboard knobs and buttons. You sigh and push the headphones to rest around your neck, rubbing your hands tiredly over your face. You take a glance at the clock— 4:34 AM. Goddamn. You had truly been here all night. After your night out with Robin, drinking your feelings away, and your quick epiphany moment, you guys caught a taxi straight here and got to business. That was at 10:46 PM. 

Poor Robin, you put the girl through the wringer. Making her drum out new beats, forcing her to pluck out a bass riff to the best of her abilities. The rest of your band was, without a doubt, asleep, and you didn’t want to bother them with your antics. And, of course, you all were close, but it was just different with you and Robin. You guys could be together for hours and never tire of one another. You just clicked. 

Maybe it was also the fact that you didn’t want to face whatever awkward encounter was bound to happen between Robin and Nancy, opting to wait until the morning to see them face one another. Robin was fully asleep underneath the sound booth, using both of your jackets as a pillow. Her fingers are wrapped around the beer she’d been drinking; hand cuddled up to her face. You pull out your cigarettes from your pocket, pulling one stick out and sliding it between your lips. You light it up and puff on the cigarette, glancing at Robin beneath the table before reaching down and carefully snagging her beer. You take a quick swig, quietly listening to the song. 

“All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.”

The guitar that comes in right after is powerful. It’s beautiful; it showcases your anger, your betrayal, your heart that still aches. This was supposed to be a love song for Scott, but after tweaking a few lyrics, it quickly became a song laced with hatred and resentment— a piece of heartbreak and anguish you’re still clearly sorting through. But that’s all that love is, right? Just two people fighting and slashing at each other until one inevitably gives in and waves a white flag? 

You down the rest of your stolen beer, still taking drags of the cigarette and blowing it back out. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the only one here at ungodly hours of the night, but it was one of the first times you were here with your friend and bandmate. Knowing she was here for you after such a chaotic, hectic day, supporting you even at unreasonable hours, was nice.

You replay the lyrics repeatedly, playing with the weak bass Robin was barely able to play. You should go home; you know you should, given how late it is and the dryness that begins to seep through your eyes, but you hate the feeling that runs through your bones when you think about what used to be your and Scott’s home. You don’t want to go home. Home is where everything ended. Home is no longer home— not after what happened. Home is where you’ll go to relieve the day over and over again until you get tired enough to pass out. 

And then it hits you; lyrics, more heartache hits you. The song was initially titled The Only Exception, but the words changed after playing around for several hours. You stuff the cigarette bud in the beer bottle, letting it fizzle out as you get up from your swivel chair to try and find a notebook— a notepad, napkins, or something, but you only find a pen. Frustrated with your lack of writing materials, you look at your surroundings hungrily before your eyes land on Robin’s bare arm. 

You pace back to the soundboard and reach underneath to yank on Robin’s arm, waking her up for a split second. You ignore Robin’s grumbly and slurred “What the fuck?” and proceed with your task as she inevitably falls back asleep. You yank the pen cap off with your teeth and begin jotting down lyrics on Robin’s pale, freckled, tattooed arm. 

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott and your favorite thing to do was watch old 1950s classic films. You guys watched them so much, watched so many of them, over and over again, that you could quote them to one another. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you write these lyrics down, some falling on Robin’s arm and smudging the ink. You curse and press your palm to the running ink to dry whatever can be salvaged from your sloppy work. You drop her arm to the ground and hear her briefly groan as you pace back into the sound booth, picking up your black guitar from the stand and pulling the strap over your upper body. 

You move your headphones around your neck to sit over your ears, waiting for your next move. You start strumming out a guitar riff, basking in the glory of the echoing sounds and its full, tough ring. You push your lips to the microphone and begin mumbling, playing with more lyrics in your head before you sing.

“I could follow you to the beginning,

Just to relive the start.

And maybe then, we’d remember to slow down.

At all of our favorite parts.”

The tears are freefalling now; the dark eyeliner you’d spent the past hours smudging leaves roads of sorrow against your skin. You and Scott were together for seven magical months. Yeah, it was quick— pathetic in a different light, but you’d been mindlessly in love. And fuck, would it have been a mistake if you did end up marrying him. He was a production assistant and a bassist with no new lines of work coming, opting to freeload off his friend’s band, Corroded Coffin, playing with them at shows whenever they needed him. 

And it’s working for him so far— until it doesn’t. As much as you hate to admit, Scott is talented. He’s good with his instrument and has a good ear for sound, but despite his talent, he has no real drive— no actual want to succeed and be at the top of the music pyramid with you. As you continue to play with the guitar, you stop for a second to wipe your eyes, thoroughly smudging your makeup now and probably making you look insane. 

Scott had good moments, though. When it was good, it was good— spontaneous nights out, making out in alleyways like lovesick teenagers, and every second feeling like a movie until the credits rolled— but when it was bad, it was really fucking bad. Fights, stupid arguments, bickering, breaking expensive items, and threatening to leave each other until he makes it up to you with mediocre sex and breakfast in bed the next day. You loved him, you did, and you believe he loved you too, but you just can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. 

You stop strumming the guitar and huff waterily, setting the guitar back on the stand and ripping your headphones off your head before tossing them to the ground. You sit on a metal, foldable chair beside you and lean forward to push your head into your hands. 

You really blew the fuck up on him. Did you overreact? Did you honestly act like a crazy bitch? Fuck, maybe you should apologize. 

You can hear Robin in the back of your head, nagging and begging you to stop thinking self-destructive thoughts like this, telling you you’re insane for even thinking of apologizing, but you just can’t help it. You venture down the deep, dark, but welcoming rabbit hole of psycho-analyzing every romantic relationship you’ve ever had. None of your relationships have lasted— the ones in high school, obviously, but you’ve been out of that shit hole for years now, yet you’re still playing the never-ending game of kiss and tell.

Life in Hawkins was a weird, dull one. All the boys you brought home never shared the same interests as you and certainly did not like that you had a mind of your own. They didn’t like the clothes you wore, or the makeup you did, or the music you listened to. They thought you and the rest of the band were stupid and wasting your lives trying to be something big with the weird sound you carried. Nothing about you or the people you hung out with fit the cookie-cutter shape of Hawkins, and you learned that the hard way. 

You were more of a dirty secret for boys in your school. Nobody wanted to express their love or attraction to you openly, but they sure as hell did so behind closed doors. Your first boyfriend, Brady, was a star on the wrestling team; he didn’t mind showing you off much because nobody had the guts to talk shit about him— too scared to get sucker punched. Brady lasted a few months before you eventually cut ties with each other. 

There were a few others after Brady, all meeting the same dead end you’re so familiar with. Although there was one guy— Eddie Munson— people believed you would be perfect for each other. You liked the same music, dressed relatively the same, and had shitty high school bands nobody wanted to listen to. Logistically, it was a perfect match; the only problem was Eddie Munson is an asshole. 

Scum of the earth, piece of shit, grade-A asshole.

Scott was friends with him, and on occasion, you would sometimes cross paths at parties or hangouts with mutual friends; and every single run-in you’ve had with the man left you with a splitting migraine and an itching impulse to smash his head through a window. He’s awful; he doesn’t respect you or any woman for that matter, he acts like he’s a living god, and he and his shitty band won (stole) that fucking music contest in Hawkins back in ‘87, and you’ll never forget it. That’s how you met him, and your guys’ race to the top hasn’t let up since.

And now that you think of it, it’s not surprising that Eddie and Scott get along so well— they’re both sexist assholes. 

You’re milling in your thoughts for what seems like hours, tears dried and itching against your skin. You’re not sure how long you sit in the sound booth, but before you know it, Robin’s hoarse voice is cracking through the speakers of the sound booth, “As much as I think you’re a musical genius and love the way you work in mysterious ways, it’s extremely late, and we both need to catch some sleep before tomorrow.”

Your face twists in confusion, “Tomorrow? What’s special about tomorrow?” You ask, your voice cracking. Robin shifts on her feet, brows furrowing at your confusion, “We’re meeting with the record label. Remember we’re playing them our new album?”

Fuck. You completely forgot about that, and all of those songs, except for maybe three, are based around your stupid ex-fiance that just dumped you for your best friend. You sigh, dropping your head in your hands and running your palms over your face. You let out a long groan into your hands, not even hearing Robin opening the door to the sound booth and walking up to you. Her chilled fingers wrap around your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. Her blue eyes are tired and full of love and warmth as she squats before you to gaze at you, “Talk to me.”

Tears brim your eyes at her soft voice, and you wince— you really wish you could stop fucking crying. You rub at your teary eyes and shake your head, “It’s just—” you sigh and blearily blink down at Robin, “they’re all about him, Rob.” You frown.

Robin patiently waits for you to find the words, comfortingly squeezing your tear-dampened fingers. “Every song on the album is about him and I… I really don’t wanna spend an entire tour singing about him.” You softly speak, avoiding her gaze.

The brown-haired girl shuffles closer to you, ducking into your gaze and shrugging, “That’s okay,” she shakes her head, “We can scrap it. I mean, the label might be a little pissed, but just… play them what we did tonight, and I guarantee you they’ll extend our time.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “What? No. Robin, the song’s not finished—” “We don’t get another chance with this, Tiger. We either play them what we did tonight or give them the album.”

And you know Robin is right; she does not want to give you an ultimatum, but it’s the inevitable truth. You can either play the song and hope it’s the best thing the label has ever heard, or you suck it up and play them the album full of bittersweet words that leave a sticky residue clogging your throat.

You look at Robin, her patient and tired gaze locked on your face. You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking it over for a moment— and it could work. The new song you’d just recorded is insane— nothing you’ve ever done before and, without a doubt, has a groundbreaking sound. It could work.

Max and Nancy are going to kill you tomorrow.

You nod your head, “Okay,” you breathe. Robin’s lips slowly stretch into a smile, “I’m gonna play it for them.” You nod. Robin shoots up to her feet with a cheer.

“Perfect! Now wipe those tears, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

You and Robin look like hell. You’re sporting heavy undereye bags with dark circles, while Robin opted to cover her evident lack of sleep with a pair of dark shades. Nancy and Max look concerned when they see you both sitting in the lobby of your label’s building. Nancy, of course, chastised you for your lateness while Max just snickered in the corner. Max suddenly makes a face as she speaks, “Why do you guys look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Robin tiredly groans, shifting in her seat with a yawn, “Stayed at the studio late.” She mumbles. Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why? I thought we had everything ready for today.” She points out, obviously concerned. Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t have Nancy in the band. Now that you look at her, she has a manila folder in her hands, most likely stuffed with questions, comments, concerns, budgets, and more. She was more like Erica’s assistant than your bass player. But fuck, could her skilled fingers pluck out a riff.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, glancing over at Robin, who seems to be now passed out behind her glasses, offering you no help. You scoff. Of course. You mentally punch Robin in the face. You fidget with the rings on your fingers as you begin to explain. “So, basically,” you start, “I came home yesterday and found Scott and Angie fucking in my bed, so I threw their shit out the window and then called Robin,” you barely pay attention to Nancy and Max’s widening eyes as you spew out the events of yesterday. You knew they already knew, probably from Erica or the fucking tabloids. Hell, the whole fucking world knew, but they acted like this was their first time hearing about it. 

You ramble on about the events, telling them about you finding inspiration and dragging Robin to the studio, drunk, only to decide to scrap the album you’d all been working on for the past few months. 

That last bit of information didn’t go so well, however. 

“You what?”

You wince at Max’s sneering tone, glancing at Nancy to try and get a read on her expressionless face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Max says, voice teetering on the precipice of panic. You wish Robin would wake the fuck up. “I… I know I’m really taking a leap of faith here, but I need you guys to trust me on this,” you plead, gaze hopefully bouncing between the two women, “Please.”

Max folds her arms across her chest, tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “I swear if this fucks us over, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” She breaks, and you’re just thankful she agrees to follow your and Robin’s plan. She turns around and walks over to plop into the seat on the other side of the lobby, glancing at you before speaking, “Sorry about Scott, by the way…” she mumbles. “Maybe it’s a good thing; I never liked all those love songs anyways…” She smiles apologetically, and you huff out a chuckle.

Nancy nudges her foot against your leather boot, “You were out of his league anyway. He was dumber than a rock.” She adds to Max’s apology. You snicker and thank them for their condolences. Nancy sits on the chair next to Max and sighs heavily, “Did you tell Erica about the change?” she asks, already flipping through her folder. You pretended you didn’t hear the question, which was not a good idea. 

The two girls begin to panic at your eerie silence. Nancy’s face falls, and Robin fucking snores, “You did tell Erica, right?” She presses. Your silence says enough.

Max groans, leaning forward to sink her head into the palm of her hands, “We’re so fucked.”

And when the time comes, you’re not exactly sure what the label is thinking. All the board members wear the same unwavering expression as they listen to All I Wanted. You glance at Nancy and Max, who are both visibly shaken with nerves; Max’s leg bouncing at an ungodly rate beneath the table, and Nancy’s poor fingers picked to shreds. Robin, who’s now awake, is busying herself with doodling random sketches on the napkin in front of her, and you’re— well, you’re hardly breathing. 

Erica looks thoroughly pissed; you don’t doubt she’d thought about strangling you the second you announced you were scraping the album. You could tell she was itching to make some phone calls as her stone-hard gaze stayed on you throughout the whole listening session. You pretended you didn’t notice her.

When the demo ends, a thick silence settles over the room, and you lean forward, pressing pause on the track to prevent the CD from repeating. You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck, “I-It’s not done; I’m still working on it, but um—” You glance at the table of faces and gulp. You haven’t been this nervous in longer than you can remember. “I know it can be something. Something big.”

James, the CEO of the record label, clears his throat and leans forward, pressing his elbows onto the thick wooden table. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he points to the middle of the table where the CD player sits, “This is about Scott, yes?”

All eyes are on you, and you have no choice but to nod yes. James takes a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowing as he silently thinks. You glance at your friends, a wave of nerves washing through your body at the anticipation. “What happened yesterday can never happen again. You almost ruined your image. Almost.” He finally speaks, his stern gaze locked in on you. You almost want to shrink in your seat, feeling like a child being scolded in the principal's office as he continues to speak. “You're a good talent, but if you don't know how to act like a grown woman, you won’t have a place here.” 

You scoff and open your mouth, a smart response on the tip of your tongue, until Robin harshly kicks the heel of her leather boot into your ankle. You hiss in pain, sucking on your teeth to poorly conceal it. You relent and nod your head, “I understand.”

James nods and flicks the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “Now,” his lips split into a smug grin, a grin that tells you that you won, “Get this track finished by the end of the week. I want it on air by Monday morning.”

Monday morning, Eddie is hauling ass down I-405, without a doubt breaking many traffic laws he could care less about, given he’s late to his studio session with the band. When is he not late? He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of last night's alcohol on his clothes. As he meticulously swerves and weaves in and out of LA traffic, he jams his finger to turn his radio on, flipping through static, noise, ads, shitty pop music, and landing on a seemingly decent Rock station. 

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puffs the rest before tossing it out of the open window. His hair tousles from the wind, and he bats the curly strands away whenever they fly into his view. His ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of a truck before honking and throwing up a middle finger. What he misses during that exchange is the introduction of the song.

“Next up is a new hit single named All I Wanted by Daughters of Vampira! Daughters of Vampira will be going on tour soon; stay tuned for details!”

Then, the music starts when he finally starts to slow down after narrowly missing the truck.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.”

Your voice filters through his car stereo, unbeknownst to Eddie, and he glances down at his music console. He slowly turns the volume dial up, intrigued by the sound and wanting to know where it’s leading. When the ferocious guitar shred comes in, his face twists in approval, turning the volume even louder as he bobs his head to the tune. Whoever’s band this was, is fucking good. It’s not every day you hear a good Rock song sung by a woman, he thinks.

“All I wanted was you, oh,

All I wanted was you, oh!”

Eddie’s not sure why it takes him so long to realize the voice playing through his speakers is none other than the lead singer of that stupid fucking feminazi band Daughters of Vampira. He nearly chokes when he realizes it’s your voice, turning the volume up to max and listening to the words.

It’s… sad. The lyrics are like the gut-wrenching heartbreak you see in movies, aching and drenched with the grief of a love that was supposed to be great. And your voice is so fucking raw, so angry, and filled with pain that it brings Eddie to a stand-still, the skin on his arms raising in tiny bumps at the sheer emotion. Eddie almost forgets he’s in his car until he hears the car behind him honking, the man behind the wheel yelling at him to go now that the traffic light has turned green. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid he’ll miss a beat of this slice of heartache.

The song ends, and Eddie turns off his radio, choosing to spend the rest of his ride in silence as the gnawing feeling of guilt settles in his gut. By the sound of it, Scott really did a fucking number on you— tore your heart out, chewed it up, spit it out, and stepped on it like a spider on a sidewalk— and Eddie knows what that feels like; he’s had his heart broken before so he knows what it feels like to be so angry at the love you had for a person. It’s a shitty feeling.

So, Eddie’s not sure why he decides to be an asshole and tell the boys about your new song, but he does. The second he enters the studio, he tells Gareth to turn on the radio.

“...Why?” Gareth questions with a tone of suspicion. Eddie brushes his question off and walks to lean over the desk, turning the radio on and beginning to switch through the stations. “Uh, Eddie… we’ve got some work to do, man, we don’t have time for—” “Shh, just give me a second,” Eddie snaps. 

“It’s gotta be playing somewhere.” Eddie mumbles, eyebrows furrowed, ringed finger going overtime on the dial, abruptly stopping when he finally hears it. “This is it! This is it; just listen.” Eddie turns the volume up and stands up to his full height, hands on his hips, and chews on his lip as they silently listen to the song.

Jeff is the first to speak through the sound of drums and intense chords, “Why are we listening to this?” Eddie waves him off, telling him just to wait— just wait until the verse.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott’s eyes widen, striding over to Eddie’s side and gazing at the boombox in shock, “No fuckin’ way.” He breathes. Eddie looks at Scott as he reaches over to increase the volume. Gareth twirls his drumstick between his knuckles and deeply sighs as he leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the soundboard, “Dude, no offense, but why are we listening to this shit?” He asks. Scott turns to the boys and points back to the radio, “That’s my fucking bitch ex singing about me.”

Jeff and Gareth’s eyes widen, both boys leaning forward in their seats to listen to the lyrics. Scott curses and reaches over to shut the radio off, letting a thick silence fall over the room. Jeff is the first to break and nervously laugh, and Eddie grins, Gareth falling into a fit of laughter behind Jeff’s. “Why the fuck are you guys laughing?” Scott sneers.

Eddie chuckles, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders and turn him to face each other, “You don’t get it, man,” Eddie begins. Scott’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Eddie smiles mischievously, “This is the perfect time to drop Crazy Bitch.”

You nearly blow a gasket when you first hear Corroded Coffin’s new song. Nancy did quite a good job of bringing you down to somewhat of a levelheaded state and getting you to understand that killing Scott or slashing his tires wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions to make. You still aren’t convinced.

You try your best to ignore the song, switching the radio to a different station whenever it plays, but it seems like that fucking track follows you wherever you go. A week after the song's release, you’re walking down the street with Robin, browsing the stores that catch your eye and chatting about whatever comes to mind.

You hardly notice the crowd gathered outside the store you are in until Robin points it out, nudging your side and nodding towards the window, “Looks like we’ve got company today.” she mumbles. You curse, shelving the shirt you’d been looking at as you grumble to Robin, “Seriously, how the fuck did they find us?”

You suppose the rest of your day out won’t last much longer, so you and Robin decide to make your way home, stepping out into the crowd and shoving through a sea of flashing bulbs. 

Over time, you’ve mustered up the strength to ignore the questions paparazzi throw at you; questions about who you’re dating, your sexuality, your political beliefs— questions of generally no substance or anything to do with your music. You’ve become numb to the reality of your life being plastered on tabloids and riddled with lies; it doesn’t really hurt you anymore. 

However, you’re still a human being, and you have moments where you crack, and today seems to be one of those moments when a man yells out, “You were seen dumping your ex-fiance Scott's items into the street! So is the song true? Did you and Eddie Munson have an affair? Is that why you and Scott broke up?” 

Robin tenses, glancing at you and silently pleading for you to just keep walking. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You glare but smile at the man, flashing your white, shark-like teeth, “If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you ask Scott and Angie yourself?” You sneer. 

A few of the men snicker, one whistling and commenting about you being feisty, but you ignore it and continue as you and Robin finally reach your car, “And for the record, I wouldn’t touch that asshole with a ten-inch pole. His dick is small.” You grin sarcastically, opening your car door and getting in without another word. You hear the crowd erupt in more questions outside your car, some scribbling stuff down on their notepads and some laughing.

You groan in annoyance, buckling yourself in and starting the car as Robin settles in the passenger seat. You don’t miss the chance to flip the mob of men off when you drive off, leaving them behind with screeching tires. It’s silent until Robin chuckles, and you glance at her, “What’s so funny?”

Robin shrugs and shakes her head, “Nothing,” she says, “Just that Erica’s gonna murder you.” You roll your eyes and slide a pair of shades on. “When is she not wanting to murder me?” 

The media erupted after your comment about womanizer and rockstar Eddie Munson. Many fans came to your aid, voicing the truth of the breakup and defending you and your band. In contrast, many other fans— Corroded Coffin’s cult of assholes— came to Eddie’s defense, stating that he was only doing charity work to get your name in the papers. That you were fucking your way to the top of the music industry and much, much more deeply misogynistic statements. 

You didn’t care for any of it. You, your friends, your family, and your band knew what actually happened. The best part is that Scott knew the truth, and he was a shit fucking liar. He couldn’t cover up what happened if his life depended on it. It made you think of how he could lie about the affair for as long as he did. You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, growing tired of digging deeper into the pit of despair Scott had so happily tossed you into.

At the end of the day, your image is in shambles, and if your image is fucked, then so is the bands. Daughters of Vampira wasn’t booking anything; shows, meet-and-greets, autograph signings— nothing. Even though All I Wanted was an enormous hit and ended up in the charts, people couldn’t get over the fact that you, the lead singer, tend to be explosive. You would’ve felt bad about this if Eddie’s image hadn’t suffered the same fate. 

Eddie and his band immediately stopped booking shows after their song Crazy Bitch. Of course, it was a big success, but only because the drama fueled it. Young women stopped throwing themselves at the band and instead opted for screaming, “Woman haters!” and “Sexist pigs!” at them whenever they were out. It had been fucking rough, and it only got worse after Eddie commented to the paparazzi while he was out on a coffee run in the streets of Los Angeles.

“How the fuck do they always find me?” Eddie grumbles to himself, putting on a fake smile for the group.

Eddie was rocking a pair of shades, thinking of ways to quickly escape the mob, when a young boy approached him from the crowd. He had a Corroded Coffin shirt on with a photograph of Eddie clenched to his chest as he kindly asked for an autograph. 

“Sure, kid,” Eddie crouches down to the boy’s height and gently takes the photograph and Sharpie, "who am I signing it for?” He smiles softly at the boy, “For Thomas, sir!” The boy politely says, his eyes shining in excitement. “Thomas, sick name, man.” Eddie compliments, yanking the cap off with his teeth. He signs his name with a Let’s fuckin’ ROCK! in the corner, putting the lid back and handing the photo back to the boy. 

He smiles when the boy squeals in excitement and offers him a fist bump before standing up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Munson!” Eddie snickers and nods, “‘Course, but hey, don’t call me Munson; call me Ed,” He smirks, and the kid laughs. “Mr. Muns– Ed, I have a question for you,” the kid shyly asks. 

Eddie’s heart implodes at the cuteness of this little shithead and chuckles as he responds, “Shoot, kid, I’m all ears,” Eddie ignores the flashes from the cameras, taking photos of this pure and innocent moment. He ignores the coos from the women, from the kid’s parents, all of it, just zoned in on this small child meeting his hero. Him.

“Ed, is it true that you hate girls?”

And just like that, the moment is over.

Eddie turns red in the face and forces a harsh but nervous laugh. The crowd closes in upon hearing the exchange and begins asking a multitude of questions. The parents snag their son away and start expressing profuse apologies that Eddie waves off. “Nah, nah, the kid’s fine. But uh, to answer your question, no, that isn’t true, Tommy boy,” he says, looking at the child standing beside his mother’s legs. He takes out a pack of smokes and opens it, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he adds, “I am a really big fan of girls,” he flashes a dazzling smile around the stick and does finger guns at the small kid before he turns and begins to walk away. 

He’s forgotten all about his coffee, and now all he wants is to get the fuck outta there. 

He lights the cigarette up and ignores the crowd of paparazzi following him, cameras still in motion. He rolls his eyes, body buzzing in annoyance from the kid's question and the crowd. He continues walking the street as more questions and fans approach him. As Eddie signs a woman’s photograph, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an interviewer comments with a camera already zoned in and recording Eddie’s face. No doubt this will be on MTV tonight. No doubt he won’t hear the end of it from Dustin and Steve.

“Eddie, did you hear what the frontwoman of Daughters of Vampira has said about you? Can we get a response?” He shoves the mic into Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s lips break into a grin, but he doesn’t look up from the autograph he’s signing. “Yeah… yeah, I heard, and y’know what? She can come find out herself if it’s small or not,” He looks up and smirks right at the camera, “Have a nice day.” He smiles tightly at the interviewer and hastily flags down a taxi, hopping in and yelling at the driver to step on it. He watches as the crowd grows smaller and smaller with distance, his heart thundering in his chest. He takes deep breaths to slow his pulse down, to stop thinking of you. 

It never seems to slow as his mind can’t move on from you or that damn song.

Both the managers of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira are pushed to the limit with you and Eddie. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington are co-managers of Corroded Coffin, mainly because Steve has the money and Dustin has the brains to man the operation. All Steve really does is cut the checks and warn the team when to cut back on the extracurriculars. 

Erica, Steve, and Dustin are all from Hawkins and are quite familiar with each other due to living in a small town where everyone knows everybody. They, along with all members of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira, all sort of grew up with one another in the 80s and have always been on this whimsical journey together. As the years went by, you all drifted, more so because of the competition, but aside from the band, the managers stayed relatively civil with one another. Erica, Steve, and Dustin stayed in touch because sometimes they couldn’t handle the two bands, which is why Erica summoned the two boys to a bar in downtown LA.

Erica Sinclair is seemingly always tested by you and has no idea where to go or what her next move should be. She has times when she feels like a single mother dealing with an angsty teen, and when those moments teeter on disastrous, she makes calls— the call.

“I mean, I have just had it up to here,” Erica moves her hand up in the air to emphasize her annoyance, “with these girls, I mean, my god!” She shakes her head as she sips her red wine, the two boys nodding from across from her. “Trust me,” Steve scoffs, “we get it.” 

Dustin nods, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple and smacking his lips before adding, “We’re in the same boat too— with Eddie,” Dustin starts, drinking his Shirley Temple out of a bendy straw. 

“Yeah, he’s always been a pain in the ass, ever since high school,” Steve continues, sharing a look with Dustin, who tiredly nods, “But it has never been this bad. Normally we can get a hold on him running his mouth, but it’s just been…” Steve falters and trails off, struggling to grasp the words to explain Eddie’s childlike behavior. Erica nods, “I know what you mean,” She makes a face and holds her wine glass out to cheer with them. Dustin clinks his Shirley Temple, and Steve clinks his beer, them all taking a sip.

“Both band’s images are terrible. It won’t be long till we’re losing more money,” Steve grumbles, taking another swig of his beer. “I think we should just lock them all in a room together till they get along,” Erica jokes, earning a chortle from Steve and a cackle from Dustin. They all sigh in unison, a comfortable silence falling over them. 

Suddenly, Dustin sits up straight, aggressively snapping his fingers before pointing to Erica.

Steve jumps and makes a face at Dustin, grumbling about how annoying Dustin’s theatrics are. Erica rolls her eyes, already used to the boy’s antics. “Well? Are you gonna tell us about your nerdy little lightbulb moment or keep making a scene?” She sneers over her wine glass rim, taking a sip. Dustin looks back from Steve’s annoyed face to Erica’s tired one, basking in the dramatics.

“Why don’t we do just that?” He finally says.

Steve and Erica share a look. Typically, Dustin has these moments, and Steve and Erica have to entertain them, but Erica thinks Henderson might be onto something. Steve scoffs and leans back in his chair, “I doubt they’d last a week locked in a house before one kills the other.” Steve mumbles, clearly missing Dustin’s case in point.

Erica, however, knows just where Dustin’s mind has gone— to the motherland of brilliant-fucking-idea. Erica puts her glass down and leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “When you say just that, you mean…?” She looks at the boy quizzically, praying he means what she thinks he means. Steve puts his hand on the back of Dustin’s chair and leans forward, “I’m not really picking up on this guys,” He uses his other hand to lazily gesture. Dustin ignores Steve and nods slowly, “Oh hell yeah, I mean that.” He says, smirking mischievously. Erica and Dustin share a grin, a playful gleam in their eyes. Steve groans on the side in annoyance.

“Let’s book a fuckin’ tour bus, boys,” Erica concludes, and Dustin erupts in cheers, the two of them clinking their drinks. Steve finally understands, and his eyes widen, “Oh! Holy shit, that’s fucking genius.”

Erica laughs and finishes off the last of her wine. “Tiger is gonna kill me.” She smirks and shakes her head, sighing. Dustin and Steve share a look and chuckle a little bit, “Her reaction won’t be as bad as Munson’s. He’s gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Dustin says, slurping on his straw.

A few weeks pass before Erica, Steve, and Dustin manage to rally both bands in a conference room. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. For the most part, the band members seem more interested in knowing why they’ve been summoned together— the real tension is at the end of the table, where you and Eddie sit across from each other. Eddie wears a snickering grin to go along with his darkened shades, and you— well, if looks could kill, everybody in this room would be six feet under and crossing into the afterlife. 

You’re pissed. Annoyed that you’re being forced to breathe the same air as that fuckface Eddie Munson, and Eddie could not be more pleased with himself. Eddie gazes at each of the girls across from him; Max, who’s glaring at your managers and bouncing her knee in evident impatience, Nancy, who couldn’t look more uninterested if she tried; and Robin, who seems more intrigued with the wood paneling of the wall to look at anything else. He makes the mistake of looking at you, earning him a nicely silver-wrapped middle finger which he winks at.

“If you two are done acting like children down there, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Erica announces from her seat at the head of the table. All eyes turn to her, and she sarcastically smiles, opening her mouth to begin speaking until you cut her off, “Whatever fucking bullshit you three have planned, I won’t be a part of it. Not with this asshole.” You gesture to the curly-haired boy across from you.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, and you glare at them, ignoring Robin’s elbow jabbing into your side. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice, Tiger,” Erica says, tilting her head with a grin. You begin to bounce your leg impatiently, jaw clenching as the ticking time bomb in your mind begins to speed up. 

Dustin clears his throat and stands up, gathering everyone's attention as he clasps his hands. “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” he begins, “Your music careers are fucked.”

Jeff breathily laughs to the side, and Erica glares at him, quickly diminishing his obvious amusement. “Somehow, the seven of you have managed to obliterate your band's image in less than a month,” Dustin points out, picking up a stack of magazines before him and walking calmly about the room. He tosses a magazine out into the middle of the table, “Misogynists,” another magazine, “Anti-feminist,” another magazine, “Chauvinists,” another magazine— the final one, “Woman-haters.”

You all look at the magazines silently until you mumble, “Sounds about right,” causing Eddie to scoff and roll his eyes beneath his shades. “What? You’re mad the media is finally realizing how full of shit you all are?” You prod with a tilt of your head. “At least nobody’s saying I should be sent to a fucking ward.”

Your eyes narrow, and you begin to form a response, but Erica rises from her seat loudly, startling the room as her loud voice booms through the space, “The media is tearing both of you to shreds,” she leans forward to press her palms against the cool wooden table, heated gaze darting between you and Eddie.

“Both of your bands aren’t booking gigs, and you're losing money faster than you earn it,” she points out, watching as you all cower from the truth. She waves a manicured finger between both sides of the table, “This stupid little fucking back and forth you’ve created either ends here or on the road.”

Robin’s face twists in confusion, a raspy voice speaking up for the first time, “On the road?”

Steve turns to her and grins, “Yes. On the road. Together.”

Gareth leans forward in his chair, confused as he speaks, “What, like a retreat type deal?” He questions. Dustin slaps a paper down in front of him, “No. Tour. Nine months, ninety-two shows.”

Gareth doesn’t get much time to take in the information on the paper before Eddie snatches it out of his hands, shades pushed up into his hair as he leans in to gape at it. A list of tour dates, an ongoing and never-ending fucking list.

“You’re not serious.” He says. Steve chuckles at the end of the table, nodding his head, “As serious as a heart attack.”

You’re next to snatch the paper away for a gander, ignoring the rest of the room as everyone erupts in a fit of protest. You stand with your back to the table as you gaze through each date, your neck heating up with anger as your fingers crease the paper. You turn around, face twisted in rage, wrinkling the paper in your shaking fist as you storm up to where Erica stands, waiting for you to say your piece with an unwavering impression.

You hold the crinkled paper up as you stand before her, “You’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m doing shows with these pieces of shits.” You sneer, tossing the paper onto the table. Erica raises an eyebrow, looking at you as if you’ve gone off the deep end. The room enters a thick silence at your outburst, all eyes on the standoff between you and Erica. “Call the tour off, or I’m out.”

“What?” Robin leans forward to gaze at you, eyes widened in shock at your words, “You’re not leaving the band, Y/N, you— you can’t.”

You ignore Robin and step closer to Erica, eyes burning into her gaze as you speak, and Erica has never seen you this angry in all her years of knowing you. “Call it off.”

Erica will let you believe you have the upper hand for your peace of mind, but when it comes down to reality, you both know you don’t stand a chance against her force of nature. Erica is calm and uncannily patient as she speaks to you, “You’re at a dead-end street, Tiger,” she starts, “You either make a way, or you go back to Hawkins with your tail between your legs like everyone expected.” 

Erica sits back in her chair, not even bothering to look at you as she busies herself with the paperwork before her when she adds, “You make the call.”

You glare down at her, throat closing in anger and betrayal. You don’t say another word as you storm out, leaving the room with a booming echo of the heavy glass door slamming shut. Erica sighs, settling back in her chair and gazing at the rest of the band members, who are all silently fuming in anger. “Now, does anyone else have something to say or something of substance to add, or are we done here?” Eddie rises from his seat with clear annoyance, “This is bullshit,” the force of his movement sends his chair back to the wall as he walks out of the room, just as angrily as you had previously done.

The remaining band members sit in silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and Steve breathily laughs, “Well, Dustin, you were wrong,” he teases, smirking when Dustin and Erica turn to him. “Eddie took that pretty well.”

The band members glance at the managers, and Dustin sighs as he leans back in his chair, twisting his mouth in thought and tapping his pen against the table.

“This is gonna be more work than I thought.”

————

a/n: AHHH, YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE END!!! WE HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AND LOVE THEM SO FAR; more to come sooonnnn <3

————

teeny taglist: @tommyvelvet @oeuryale

[bluerosesonata]

I played and finished Slay the Princess last night while I was puppy sitting. I had such a great time. She’s my scary wife now.

Spoilers + more detailed thoughts below the cut, but without spoilers:

[points at devs] haha horror podcast fans

I’ve always loved Nicole Goodnight from her first appearances on Nosleep. she did so excellent as the Princess.

Very impressive scope, even with the very definitive ending I got, I came away from the game feeling like there were still paths I hadn’t seen.

Just as a general tone setter, I love the opening card/disclaimer that ends with “This Is A Love Story.”

GREAT visual style and art. I’ll get into this in my breakdown below, but with my amateur eye I love how they took a non-traditional approach to way the images/characters are displayed in a renpy game

INCREDIBLE music.

Hard to avoid Disco Elysium comparisons with the aspects of the Self mechanic, which I’m sure is either a received as a high compliment or is a source of annoyance for the devs, lol

Highly recommend it for OELVN fans, horror fans, and lesbians.

First and foremost, I’m genuinely very impressed at the amount of variety to the paths.

On my first playthrough, I got on a loop where I kept the princess locked up, and then she came upstairs and killed me. The next loop, The Paranoid showed up, and when we went into the basement, it was all spooky and distorted. In this one, we had some great banter with The Princess before I ultimately decided to slay her, and trapped me in the basement by warping reality and removing the stairs, forcing me to kill myself to escape that loop. The Cold showed up in chapter 3, and I think that was when I tried to leave the woods.

In subsequent loops, even when choosing all the choices I made to the best of my memory, I couldn’t recreate that first loop at all. It really speaks to the scope of the game in an impressive way.

The first vessel I managed to provide was The Tower. (It was the outcome of being mauled on your first encounter with her, then perceiving her as a dominating, inevitable force.) After discovering my new objective, the endings I saw were The Prisoner (It’s the ending where you just wait for the cell to rot away around you), The Razor (GOATED route, I will be calling her ‘Knife Wife,’), The Damsel, and ended with The Adversary (devil horns), before reaching Awakening.

These are the only routes I can talk about, but I’m certain there were at least 2 I missed/didn’t get to see. It’s an EXTREMELY impressive scope, and fully voiced, to boot, so my hat is off to the devs on that front.

(The next few paragraphs are about the voice acting, if you want my story thoughts, I made a small heading for that bc my VA thoughts got a bit out of hand lol)

Voice Acting

While I’m on the subject of the game being fully voiced: Nicole’s voice acting really shines here, and it’s absolutely essential to making this game what it was. I think a version of this game without it would be very Good, but not nearly as Haunting. The sheer variety of reads on certain lines based on how you first approach the princess is incredibly impressive, as well. (Again— scope!!!)

As far as the narrator VO goes, i can’t deny that Jonathan did a great job, and with his history of being the main narrator for The Magnus Archives, he was a good fit for the tone and audience of the game. I would even posit that, even if there were other people who were considered in the early phases of development, the cross-promotional potential of drawing in even a small section of an audience already primed for cosmic, reality-altering horror via TMA was a very smart business decision, and I applaud them for it. That being said, I think one unintended side effect of his casting may be that people familiar with his TMA character (a…semi-reliable narrator) might immediately come in primed with doubts about the Narrator. They seem to have anticipated this, though, and included skeptical and suspicious dialogue choices with him right off the bat in the first chapter, which is fun.

(A brief aside: If it seems like I am being very measured with my thoughts on the Narrator, it is not because I have anything negative to say about his performance. I am being measured simply because the narrative devices the game employs makes it impossible to not draw comparisons to Big Hitters like The Stanley Parable and Disco Elysium— both incredible games that I personally would be both delighted and terrified to be brought up when discussing a game I created or a role I was playing.

These games did not Create the idea of “a narrator you interact with and who is sometimes rude to you” or “multiple voices with distinct Traits butting in on your current predicament,” but both games are incredibly prolific in how implemented those devices and the vocal performances involved….so it is not a fair comparison.)

Story Thoughts

The subtitle for this section could also be “Faron ranks how hot they find all of the versions of The Princess.” jk.

I am not going to do summaries here I’m just going to assume most people reading this have played the game.

But let’s start again with the sentence at the beginning of the game: “This is a love story.”

Not long ago, there was a big discussion on tumblr about the statement that horror is “about love”, (it might have even been spurred on by TMA, lol) and that lead to a lot of justified (but not always kind) posts from my fellow horror fans being annoyed by that take. I’ll spare you a rehash of all of that. But it is exactly Because of that discourse (and my general gothic preferences) that I like the choice to open with this a whole lot. The phrase “This is a love story,” written in bold, at the end of a disclaimer saying ‘there are no wrong choices, just different paths,’ has an immense power to it. It is a mic drop way to open up a story, as a way to prime the audience to be open to the Princess as more than a monster, and creates the anticipation for a greater relationship to be uncovered between the protagonist and the princess.

It could also be that the phrase hit my brain in a weird way because of Fata Morgana. I don’t think The House in Fata Morgana had a similar line in the actual game— but my roommate who handed me Fata Morgana very specifically told me, “it is a horror game, and it is a tragedy, but at its core, It Is a Love Story.” And that’s always stuck with me. (I digress.)

A Brief Address to Loops and the Popularity of the Looping Narrative

I could sit here all day and talk to you guys about looping metanarrative structure and the different approaches to it, but you’ve probably all played a VN with that before. (If you haven’t, and this is your first time encountering something like this and it blew your mind…Go play Zero Escape: 999. Run, don’t walk.)

I believe very strongly that reviews should be about what a game Is, and how well it accomplished what it aims to be, not about what you wish the game was. But it is an even stronger opinion of mine that loop narratives, especially in visual novels, can sometimes get too bogged down in the details of “why am i in a time loop.”

I am extremely glad that this game (mostly) avoided this, bc it offers an opportunity to say something about the subgenre as a whole.

At the end of the day, looping narratives mainly exist as a metanarrative device in VNs to acknowledge and offer a reason why your character’s behavior (and/or your choices) change. It’s an easy way to create ludonarrative harmony, and to inject some extra drama with little extra effort.

But BECAUSE it’s easy, it can also feel Extremely Overused, and starts to become an expectation.

I won’t go on a soapbox about it, especially because I feel like this game handled it very well, and the looping, metanarrative aspect is suited to the themes and character subject matter of Beings Who Are Concepts, even if they Why doesn’t really satisfy. At the end of the day, this is a love story, and the why matters less than the feelings involved.

Specific Path Thoughts

All versions of the Princess are incredibly strong concepts, and the game is structured in a way that I very much would enjoy seeing how different people’s first loops influence their opinions on her. It’s got IMMENSE “streamability” in that regard.

Someone that encountered The Damsel version of the princess first would have an INCREDIBLY different experience than someone who encountered the Adversary first, which ties very neatly into the subject of the greater love story and can also generate some great post-play discussion.

I think, undoubtedly, the Aspects of the princess that made the biggest impressions on me were The Adversary (demon wife) and The Razor (Knife Wife). Part of this is due to the sheer length of their paths, as both of them take 3+ loops (correct me if I’m wrong) to reach the conclusion of their sections, whereas The Damsel, The Tower, and The Prisoner all only took 2. (See the next section for more on that). Thinking about it, every path was similar in the amount of sheer resources created for them (illustrations, animation), but these two create the illusion of having more than the others simply due to being the longest action sequences and loops in the game.

The Razor has an OUTSTANDING design, and the sequence to slay her would have been an incredible finale in its own right, as we get introduced to EVERY Aspect of ourselves as we die over and over again, even shoving the narrator out of the way so we can just jump to the cabin and fight her again, and the PC reasoning that “if there’s enough of Me, I might be able to overcome her”. For this reason, and because of the big knife skeleton body, I think that the Razor path is more Fun than the Adversary’s.

Flavor-wise, however, I feel like The Adversary is a much stronger character and narrative thread. A princess who doesn’t want to escape— she just wants a good fight. She wants you at your best, and she won’t have any less. That’s exactly the sort of character dynamic that really gets me going. I love single-minded women, and I love a main character who meets them on their level of crazy.

Both of these paths involve the Aspects of Self “The Hunted” and “The Stubborn,” and they are the aspects of the PC that by FAR have the most color to them (besides the lover, who is more of a buffoon.) I think they were my favorites.

That being said, I adored how exhausted the Narrator got during the Damsel path, and I thought there was a very quiet, profound power in the Prisoner version of the Princess. She had an austere, quiet pride to her, tinged with an undeniable sorrow.

I really do appreciate the variety of ways they provide for one to approach your dialogues with the Shifting Mound after every loop. They really create a lot of space for the player to decide how they feel about her. Even if it sort of bothered me that every time there was a choice to tell her you would slay her once it was all over, I appreciate the option being there. (And, again- the sheer amount of dialogue!! Sheesh!)

Lastly, the finale. It was incredible, going through all of the forms, reliving all of the choices you made. But this is the part that the amount of options started to detract from my experience.

Again- I love that they left a lot of space for people to decide how they feel. I like the amount of responses provided, and I get the impression they don’t change the final choice in any way, just the dialogue she says to get to it.

But it bothered me that there was an option to just…opt out of seeing every vessel, either by submitting to her or by killing her. I can’t see a world where anyone playing a finale like this would WANT to cut the big final movement short. It seems silly.

The payoff was worth it, though. It was a beautiful end and one that definitely will stick with me.

(And Obviously I decided to take her hand and remain endless with her! How could I not!)

Mechanical Musings

Note: I am a dabbler in Ren’Py, but I have been a dabbler for over a decade, and I went to college for game design. (You’re allowed to laugh) I’m not GOOD at programming, and I forget the class names for basically everything unless I’m looking at it.

All of this is all to say I am PURELY speculating on how certain parts of the game were accomplished.

UI/Display/Visuals

The choice to omit a typical text box was an objectively correct one for this game, in no small part to how they decided to do the visuals on this game. It kept the game looking clean and drew the eye to the stunning visuals. The right aligned prompt box similarly aided in that respect, and I think that being forced to scroll down to resist during certain tense sequences was a great touch. Makes me wonder if there’s a timed element on those responses.

The choice to eschew using typical talk sprites (outside of The Long Quiet scenes, the sequence with The Damsel, i thiiiiink the confrontation in the basement maze, and the finale) in favor of using scenes/displayed images really aided in the storybook vibes, and the animated loops they had on those images gave the pencil work an amazing kinetic energy for the scenes where the princess is just standing or sitting still. (For the uninitiated- It’s incredibly simple to program animation loops using static images in RPY, but I’m not clear if that the most memory-efficient way to do so; I’m going to assume they did this though)

The menu Ui is what gives it away as Renpy to me, but you know, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, lol.

I’m sort of surprised there wasn’t anything like a scene viewer or gallery that unlocked at the end, but I guess that might sort of be immersion breaking.

Gameplay

Just from my hobbyist eye, I can tell there’s a looooott of dialogue flags in this one, where they track previous things you’ve said in the scene. There is absolutely a variable for “Princess hostility,” just based on the fact there’s several like reads of her answering the questions you can ask in chapter one, but since I only did a single run where I didn’t pick up the knife in chapter 1, I can’t be sure if it’s points based or binary “has knife = true.”

My guessssss about how the Aspects are inherited is that it might be a point based system combined with a flag indicating how you died; this would explain how I inherited “the paranoid” in ch2 my first run, but never after that.

I can say with almost complete certainty from the way it completely locked me out of deciding to leave the princess locked up after my choice to leave the woods that there is a true/false variable tracker for each path that stores if you’ve reached the Long Quiet or not, bc no matter what I did I could NOT do that again. Either that or there’s a flag where the narrator will lock you downstairs after seeing that screen once.

There’s also probably some variables tied to your appearance changing in the mirror, but i would need to double check achievements to be sure that text isn’t just set to appear after X vessels being provided.

There’s also a distinct possibility there are different “pools” for the princess’ aspects to be pulled from after each “level” of ascension; this would set it up so that it’s impossible for you to end with an event that is only 1 loop long, and it would be easier to assure story pacing that way.

(Ex: “If Vessels < 2, use Event_Pool_A, Else use Event_Pool_B”, where pool A contains vessels that use less than 2 loops to complete)

All in all, if I ever got the chance to crack the hood open on this, I would. I highly recommend it.

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

Ok let me ramble about the making of this challenge because I'm so excited.

I told myself that I'm going to take things easy this year and not do any challenges. The summer rolls in and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with ideas for characters I want to write summer smut fics with, but nothing specific comes to mind. I open my notes and try a new approach, writing down some locations. I'm always goofing around on there scribbling stuff and adding comments and all that, so what I did this time was circle the locations and write "top 10 hottest locations to fuck your ikemen this summer!". i snort and move on. Then i come back to it and I'm like wait.

So I really love things that are over-the-top cheesy and basically a parody of something (hello Cupid Parasite nation - the grand amount of 2 people reading this - I'm talking exactly that kind of stuff), i think it's fun in a very goofy way. so i thought wait that's perfect, I'm gonna make a challenge that's a parody of a magazine giving sex tips! I'm a genius!

and then i was like WAIT i can make so much for this, on the banner image. and i was OVERWHELMED WITH IDEAS. this is the first challenge that the creation of the prompt lists has been like 20% of all the work. I'm not even sure if they match the quality of everything else at this point, but my personal favorites are the summer wedding one and the abandoned mansion one - for the latter i got to write "(caution!)" which made me giggle and this one was actually a joke i decided to leave in there.....

so i get to the making of the banner and I'm like hey you know what would be cool? if i asked some artist friend of mine to feature one of their arts that fits the topic, on the banner. then i remembered I'm an artist myself............... and this was very risky because, i don't have any patience when it comes to drawing with my tablet (I'm working on this i swear), this might be coming from my writing tendencies but i need it to be done in max 2 hours and I'm mad because i don't have the skill to make it look good in two hours. but a miracle happened and Liam actually looks good. the coloring is very sloppy but oh my god I'm proud of it. i love Liam so much. I'm just halfway through his route but he's been on my mind a lot and you can say he's the reason this challenge happened at the first place, because HE'S the one who i want to write a smut fic with this summer the most.

then i had another great idea, of adding checkboxes in front of the "sex tips" which works both for the imaginary purposes of it as a magazine AND for marking which prompt you're done with as a creative!!! at this point I'm so excited to work on it

then i spent the next two days looking at so so so many pictures of y2k magazines for inspiration and they're so cool to look at oh my god have you seen them. i never had a thing for this specific aesthetic but suddenly i do? and i go to csp and i vomit all the inspiration I've soaked up into what is now the final product, and i honestly i love it. it feels very personal somehow because i made it in my favorite colors, it's chaotic and makes it hard to focus on one thing at first glance in a very adhd fashion, it has someone i like on it, it's basically a combination of all i love to do from art to writing to graphic making........ this banner is Me kdgkjhgkd okay what else was i gonna say

i also have a playlist of 90s pop songs that i listened to while making this! i might post it one of those days actually!

one thing that i didnt get to include on the banner: to give it a more authentic magazine look i thought about adding something that has nothing to do with the challenge, and that was going to be: something like "the weather this weekend" - basically Friday Saturday and Sunday but instead of degrees there are chibi heads of characters and it says "roger hot" "masamune hot" "gilbert hot" (the third one is marked to be deadly in some way)..... i ended up not doing it because, no space, too confusing, and too much work because likely i would've wanted to draw these myself too. but oh well!!

ANYWAY, i just wanna say, i hope you see the challenge and think "mo had fun with this", because that's the Truth. i have a bit of a problem with overdoing everything and making my projects too massive at times but i promise at no point did i overwork myself with this!!! and if i end up writing like 10 fics it would be same with them okay.............. i had a lot of these awful days in the past few months when i was completely numb and couldn't look at anything, so I'm trying very hard right now to cling to things i feel passionate about. thank you for your attention!! i hope someone has fun with this challenge as much as i do!!

[sweetsunshinedarling]

Posted this on Twitter, but kinda wanna post a longer more detailed version here. Might at some point write up other theories and readings for YBG on here too, but we will see~

Long ramble on a theory I have had for a while (2021-22ish)

Your girlfriend game (abbreviated to just YGG from this point on) is actually going to take place before YBG. Twist will be TK was the Y/N of that game. Perhaps canon ending being they got out by divesting themselves of you the player & running away to where they work now. (kinda hammers home that you the player are one of the antagonists of the story to have an ending where they do that too. Like YBG having the hints and YGG spelling it out for you in case you missed it).

TK says at one point they know first hand what it's like dealing with creeps & seem to have move to a dead end job/bad neighbourhood despite having a loving & supporting family. Were they running away from someone? (Sarah?) Plus they pick up on Peter real quick. Could that be from having a very similar experience?

Other possible twist. Peter has a cameo in YGG. Real brief though. We're talking shows up at Sarahs home uninvited to get something. Maybe they have an argument that you can vaguely overhear but at first you can't even see him. Then she brings him in to get the thing. He sees you, all out gawks for a bit saying very little and she kicks him out again.

Basically he see TK/Y/N aka YOU, so he actually has the first feeling of falling in love for the very first time ever. Something he previously didn't think he was ever going to experience. (but he doesn't recognise what that is as never had it). And him finding you miles away was him trying to track down TK/original Y/N sometime after the events of YGG once he realises what it was.

But by the time he caught up TK was already divested from YOU the player & was by rights their own person, so he ended up finding the new Y/N instead. (all planned by the creator of course since they like to see themselves as an evil mastermind) He never connects the dots neither does TK as they would both look very different by this point/first time they meet it was brief.

The majority of the game, perhaps even most endings you wouldn't know it's TK. Maybe the Peter cameo could even be in some routes but it would be a great way to tie the games if YGG ever gets made lol.

I just think it would be an explanation as to why TK seems a bit different than the other 3? + them dying the hair green as a way to customise themselves in a way is a cool thing. Like making themselves their own person. Since Y/N is like a blank template. TK also shares somethings in common with Y/N. Being none binary, having or had to deal with a creep.

Plus, by different than the other 3 I mean they are the only one that hasn't been written to do anything untoward towards Y/N (lol wording). If anything they can ONLY be helpful. Don't really need to say anything about Peter but the other 2 aren't exactly innocent. Spoilers and these are things that the creator could change or go back on but Don has apparently been taking photos of Y/N and being creepy with them. Plus Lucy's sex scene could be read as just non con or dubcon. When you are very vulnerable she gets you drunk/high and then the next minute is on you when you don't actually have the option to consent. TK doesn't get a single hint that their inclined to do anything creepy toward you. They instead go out of their way to assist, kinda like they've been through it before and want to lessen the burden for you.

I feel like it's important to note that all 4 of them know they are in a game. Below image for evidence and to be honest I feel like I could post a whole discussion about the below too. Worth noting that my read of it is the 4 know they are in a game but Peter is the only one that doesn't reset ever and is therefore basically tortured by the game and may have even changed the game in small ways.

I think the games evolved and changed overtime, which is natural for any game in development. And while I believe YBG was more fully imagined first, I can see as it was becoming a more solid concept that YGG would get built up too. Giving the other 3 sentience opens it up to the idea that they could get up to shit too. So, the idea that TK was a Y/N that kinda said fuck this and bounced and made a place for themselves in this weird fake world isn't all that crazy.

Also cool take on self aware AI being like no fuck this narrative but then getting condemned in a different way because these are horror games after all.

Example of TK as a Y/N that I drew in 2022 when I first put down my thoughts on this being a possibility to show the vision lol. They would work well colour scheme wise as they could very easily use the opposite colours while maintaining a bland enough base for you to project your character on to. Not that Y/N has a model in game, only ever art outside of the game, but you get what I mean lol.

I like them having their beanie instead of the cap! Plus them keeping it for a bunch of possible reasons. Remind them where they came from, or as a comfort thing. And the glasses work well in place of eyes and having th Y/N wording on them while still mixing up the design so that there is a definite divide between the two games and the Y/N despite being a vessel for the player still feels like their own character.

I also wonder if the candle tattoo is a hint to them having been a Y/N?

Side note lol: Worth noting TK didn't always have freckles & still doesn't in game but I like to think of them & the tattoo as ways in which they have made themselves their own person. Same with the piercings and green hair. I can't be sure but I think the candle came a fair bit after too, as the creator was ironing out their own stories.

Tattoos can have meanings and a quick google search of a candle tattoo (which another side note, since they have no other visible tattoos and a candle is so fucking specific I feel like it HAS to mean something to the creator to give them it in the first place)

Possible meanings found when googling:

More than the sum of it's parts. Candles are just wax and wick and yet they are capable of producing light etc. In my reading TK gave themselves this as a reminder that they are more than just a Y/N, more than an empty vessel for the player. They have made themselves a person with just a little light (power) from their own actions.

A light in the darkness. Something people might get that have dealt with bad times in their life, they have managed to get through and found the light for example. Links in with something bad happening to them before the game as discussed earlier. Something that keeps them going. It being on their back does also show that they are literally leaving it behind them.

Or admittedly, it could solely be to represent that they are the light for the player. Since they are always so helpful etc lol.

I just think if this was a thing it would be a neat twist that would better connect the games while also adding to the horror of it all.

[wirewitchviolet]

Consider cloning one of these games...

So the other day someone was showing me the trailer to some neat new indie game they were getting into, and my immediate thought was "that does look pretty nice but FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING! INDIE DEVS, PLAY A SECOND GAME ALREADY!"

Presumably you've already guessed this, but it was a nice little handcrafted thing that was very plainly inspired primarily by Super Metroid. Even had those bubble-looking platforms. I'd say what it was specifically, but I already forgot the name, because, you know, I've kinda seen a few games do this before.

It's not like Super Metroid isn't one of my favorite games of all time, obviously. I'm one of the shockingly few people who played it when it was new and totally fell in love then. And it's also not like there aren't several games made in its image that I also love. It's just that there's way too damn many of them out there for anyone to play, and while I'd never be one to tell someone not to make the thing they want to make due to market saturation or whatever, I kinda feel like we're doing a huge disservice to our collective creativity and appreciation of classic games to all be so hyper-focused on putting our own spins on this one particular game, especially when it kinda knocked things out of the park back when this wasn't a genre it was just this one super cool game with, among other things, a compelling structure to it.

Like, I do love that Super Metroid became A game that's served as a focal point for indie devs to try and recreate. Back when it was first released it actually sold kinda terribly by Nintendo's standards, and didn't really have anything else out there trying to iterate on the concept until we eventually got the Castlevania series going that route, and Cave Story. But at this point, yeah, Super Metroid has been all canonized and studied to death and if you're the sort of person who cares about this sort of thing in the slightest you know all about how it ticks and the appeal and what other ways the basic premise can be pulled in. So it's well past time for people to take another game that's super great and fairly unique and use that as a jumping off point to make some new things. So I'm just going to ramble here a little about some real gems that nobody's ever really gotten around to trying to replicate.

Punch-Out!!

I want to say we're all familiar with Punch-Out!! but... are we? It's a famously difficult game, so odds are good you've seen speedruns or other challenge runs, but you really have to play it for yourself to see what's so interesting about it. A big part of the initial appeal of course was having these really expressive screen-filling characters, which isn't something we're lacking now. It's also real twitchy, basically unplayable towards the end if you're dealing with any sort of input lag at all, which isn't super unique these days, but structurally, the way it's coded, there's all this weird artificial drama to it.

Like, on the surface, it's a pretty straightforward thing. Enemies have tells for their attacks, you dodge those, you hit them in the resulting openings. But there's also the round based structure, knock-downs, and one-off gimmick mechanics in the mix. Officially, we're playing by the rules of boxing where the outcome of a match is decided by either knocking someone down and them not getting back up, knocking them down three times in a round, or running out of time and having to go to some judge's decision. But that's not REALLY how it works.

There's no random chance of someone going down and staying down. You've got HP meters, you take one down, your opponent falls over, waits until late in the count and gets up, forcing you to drain that HP down three times before the round ends, and if yours bottoms out, you get to mash buttons to stand up and have your other two chances. But then there's times you CAN take someone down, not only keeping them down for a KO win, but even getting there without your opponent bottoming out on HP first. The most famous example, I believe of both of these, being Bald Bull's charge. The big dramatic make or break where he just keeps using this special move which isn't terribly hard to dodge, but deadly if it connects, and dodging doesn't really help as he won't stop until the round ends, and then might spend the whole second round doing nothing but. You need to take that risk, and get that frame perfect stomach strike just before he connects to dramatically KO him and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat... or you can do this:

I was actually looking for an example of the all or nothing strike when I found this. If you don't face the charge in round 1, he gets into it sooner in round 2 to force the matter, but if you're still not confident enough to go for it there, turns out you can just drop him early into round 3 and have him stay down... and the only real consistent rule any of this follows is drama. Heck looking at the opening screen here, this person knows tricks for getting a KO on at least the first 10 opponents. Most of them I've always just taken the TKOs on myself. Point is though, the mechanics really run on drama. AI scripts change up if you move onto new rounds. Knock-downs turn into knock outs if and only if it fits a certain narrative. This sort of thing is super fascinating to me. Makes me want to look through the game's code line by line. And the only thing I can think of in any other game that even comes close is, of all things, the Ace Attorney series, with those scenery chewing meltdowns, and scattered scenes that "break the rules" with instant failure penalties or no-win situations where you're then suddenly saved by a friendly NPC's dramatic appearance.

I wouldn't suggest anyone literally try to make a Punch-Out!! clone. There's no real reason to stick to the boxing framework. I'd definitely advise against copying all the broad stereotypes. But there's a real unique soul to the drama-driven mechanics breaking stated rules I'd love to see people really digging into to gain a deep understanding of it and apply that to original games.

Yume Kojo: Doki Doki Panic

I'm not just being pretentious and refusing to say Super Mario Bros. 2. When it was Mario-ized, there were two huge changes- A run button the original FDS game didn't have, and the fundamental structural change of just having you finish levels with whatever character you like (or use warp zones to skip them entirely). In the original game, in order to see the proper ending, you had to play each and every level with each and every character with no run button. And that's neat, actually.

See, just as an example, there's a bit of a skip early on in both versons of the game, where you can avoid taking a door through some whole area by just leaping across a big waterfall. In Super Mario Bros. 2 anyone can do this, just needing a running start, but in the original release, there are no running starts. Either you can jump that gap by way of good airtime, or you can't. Depends which character you play as. Everyone has different stats, so being forced through the same full set of levels, there's a few little things like this where you have to alter your strategy to reflect the character you're running with at the time. That's cool. The whole mechanic of lifting things and throwing them, or riding on enemies' heads, or stacking blocks to reach higher areas or block fireballs, this is also just cool (and another thing SMB2 tweaked actually, play both and see for yourself).

I have seen literally one indie game that riffed on this idea, Curse of the Crescent Isle.

Umihara Kawase

If you've played it, you know. If you haven't, please just watch this speedrun:

Nothing has physics quite like this game. Nothing really has the same weird mildly distressing dream sort of tone to it either, or weird as hell branching level structure, or the weird system where the game has a time limit, but rather than giving a game over just makes it end after your current level. Other games have played with grappling hooks, but nothing I've ever seen has made me feel like this here is what they were going for.

Altered Beast

You know, I don't even particularly LIKE Altered Beast. I always thought it was a bit too short, a bit too simple, and still somehow it felt like you were just killing time until getting the power-ups that kinda make you invincible for the rest of the level.

There's... something here though. Somewhere with these bodies getting so bulky and beefy with no change to their heads and the voice samples and the sense of spectacle to it all, and yeah the dramatic gameplay shifts with the power-ups. I don't quite know what the secret sauce is, but if you find it, bottle it up, and slather it over something less shallow, you might really have something there.

Ecco the Dolphin

There is such a weird mix in the whole series of new age hippie save the whales vibes and genuinely disquieting horror just kinda seamlessly blended together. So much of it is the sound design, but the claustrophobia, the weird sense of speed, the constant pressure of drowning or suddenly being in the face of some huge nasty thing that'll basically one-shot you. The... unspoken but pronounced notion that this is set in a world where all of humanity died and are totally unremembered. There's a hell of a lot you could do with any of this, and the only game I can think of that comes close to hitting the same notes is Subnautica. Actually for that matter...

Subnautica

I don't want to get into what's so great about Subnautica here, because the most common sentiment I hear from people who have played it is they wish there was some way they could play Subnautica for the first time, again. Just... yeah. If you haven't already, play through it all completely blind, and if you can think of how to recapture all of that, do it, and put it in my hands without a word.

X-Com Apocalypse

So... X-Com is a truly amazing game that to this day feels like a unique enough beast it also wouldn't be bad to try and learn from, but there's actually a good number of attempts at clones already, none quite seem willing to get into the same levels of complexity, and there's the whole remade Firaxis series with a simpler take that a lot of games are using as a template. But Apocalypse? The original third game? That tried to do a lot of new and different stuff. I don't know how much of it didn't work vs. how much is secretly amazing if you internalize how it works vs. what's sort of half-baked per se, but there's some real ambition with mixing the original's tactical intricacies and destructible terrain and such (which somehow works even better with the realtime mode this one has), with this living breathing city. You aren't intercepting UFOs on a featureless world map. You've got a whole separate combat engine on a persistent map where stray shots can damage roads and cause long-term problems because the supplies you order get shipped via trucks that travel on those roads. Tons of factions you ideally want support from but can go attack and rob if they feel like lost causes. A tech tree with really dramatic progress and early discoveries that are either double-edges swords or genuinely just terrible things to try to use.

And then the endgame is really neat because instead of just one big final mission, you flip the whole script, and suddenly you're invading an alien city, picking targets to wreak havoc on and ultimately destroy, one by one. Incidentally this also did headcrabs before Half-Life so... I feel like it should be better known just for historical context.

Shadow of the Colossus

I know this is kind of a big technical ask, but why the hell were we not FLOODED with a whole generation of grandiose setpiece-y boss rush games after this first dropped? Perhaps more than anything else on here, someone really needs to get onto scratching this specific itch again, immediately.

I could totally keep going, but more importantly I'm sure you had some game that really left a mark on you that's been largely forgotten since, which I don't even know about, and you should really, if you're up to it, try and teach the world about it and how great it was by blending the old with something new of your own.

Just... draw from wider pools of inspiration, people.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Daddy's Little Ballerina

Day 21 of 2022's 31 Days of Ficmas @doctorroseprompts Prompt: Nutcracker Rating: T (mild sexual content) Pairing: 12xRose (AU) Summary: Caught between the past and the present, Malcolm Tucker struggles between creating new memories with his youngest daughter, and reopening old wounds with his oldest. A Nuptial Necessity 'verse fic 2022 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist AO3

“I think we should sign JJ up for ballet lessons.”

“What?”  Rose looked up from her romance novel, looking over at her husband before following his gaze towards the sea, where their four-year-old was shrieking with laughter as Clara spun her around in circles.  Smiling at the sibling moment, she turned her attention back to her husband.  “You want to sign her up for ballet?  Why?”

He shrugged one shoulder, carefully not to disturb the baby sleeping on his chest.  Not a baby anymore.  Little Olly would be walking unassisted any day, could reliably identify his parents by name (ma and da, respectively), and watched everything around him with curious eyes so like Malcolm’s.  But for as big as he seemed awake, nestled as he was on his father’s chest he was still so young.

Smiling at the image of them together, Rose fumbled her mobile to take a few snaps before focusing on the conversation Malcolm had started but didn’t seem keen to continue.

“Why ballet?”

“She’s a little girl, little girls like ballet,” he said vaguely.  “The… tutus, and the twirling, I just thought she might enjoy it.”

After so long, Rose knew him better than she knew herself, and just crossed her arms and stared at him, waiting him out.  He tried to hide behind his sunglasses, then focused on the baby, making sure he was properly shaded by the umbrella and blanket, adjusting the teeny hat and slumber-heavy limbs.

“I just… think she’d like it,” he finally said.  “When Clara was that age, she loved it, and usually I was the one taking her to class, and it was a great bonding time for us.  I think it would be good for JJ – she gets some one-on-one with me, and exercise is always good, and she could make friends, and… I want her to have that experience.”  He wouldn’t quite meet her eye, and Rose pursed her lips as she considered him.

He got this way sometimes; a bit lost in his head, and the past, trying to give JJ the same experiences Clara’d had.  Of course they were in a much better position in nearly every way than Malcolm and Missy had been when Clara was the same age, but he was very conscious of making sure JJ got plenty of his time and attention.  Rose sensed more to this story existed, but she trusted her husband’s intentions.

“If it means that much to you,” she agreed, “sure.  We can ask her if she’s interested.  Can you find her a studio or something?  Handle all of that, then?”

“Yeah, of course.  There’s one two blocks from home that’s got good reviews.  I’ll book her in when we get back,” he lit up.  “I think she’s going to love it.”

Rose looked towards her daughter, who was now alternating between running from the waves then chasing them back to the sea, squealing the whole time while Clara and Danny laughed and splashed her.  “Me too.”

-

Six weeks later, Rose couldn’t tell whether her husband or daughter was more excited for her first dance class.

“Maybe we should get there early,” Malcolm fussed, checking his watch again.  “There could be traffic.”

“You’re walking two and a half blocks, love,” she said patiently, “and she doesn’t have to be there for another hour, let alone when the class actually starts.  JJ, sit and eat your carrots.”  Taking another bite of her own meal, Rose realized she was the only one eating; Olly was more interested in squishing his hands in his mashed potatoes, Malcolm kept checking the weather, time, and route to the dance studio, and JJ wasn’t even at the table.

Already dressed in her black leotard and pink tutu, hair up in a bun, the four-year-old kept spinning in circles.  “I’m practicing my turns, Mummy!”

“You’re gonna make yourself dizzy.  Sit and eat, so you can make it through class.”  Rose gave her a look, which was promptly ignored, if even seen.  “Jennifer Jacqueline, I won’t tell you again.”

“Yes, Mummy,” she stopped immediately, eyes wide, plopping back in her chair and nibbling on a carrot.

Feeling only a little bad for breaking out the full name, Rose came around and kissed her daughter on the forehead, smoothing a few stray hairs into place.  “I know you’re excited, but if you don’t eat you’ll be too tired to dance, and I don’t want you to miss any of it.”  God, we really do become our mothers.  I remember her sayin’ that to me before my first gymnastics class!

Meeting Malcolm’s gaze, she was filled with a surge of affection for her family and the life they’d built.  “The time for dance class will be here soon enough, but for now, it’s dinner time.  See, look at Daddy- he’s eating, so you should be too.”

Pouting almost as much as their daughter was, he reluctantly relinquished his mobile onto the table and picked up his fork, stabbing a few carrots.  “JJ, did you know carrots make you dance better?”

“Really?”  Not waiting for an answer, their budding ballerina shoved a handful of them in her mouth, making her parents laugh.

Returning to her seat and meal, Rose just watched as Malcolm spun yarn, his disciple hanging on his every word as the baby guggled happily beside her.

I just hope she loves this class as much as he wants her to.

-

Getting ready for bed that night, Rose listened with one ear as Malcolm regaled her with a minute-by-minute account of the ballet class; she’d heard it already at least twice from each of them, but the enthusiasm was contagious, and she was just glad it had gone well.

Turning off the bathroom light she padded across the room to the bed, skirting around to his side and climbing up.

“And her little face!  I’ve never seen her take anything so seriously in her life, except for cake.  I just- Hello.”

“Hi.”  She straddled her husband, leaning forward and kissing him deeply which he reciprocated, running his hands over her.

Rocking languidly against him, guiding his hands to her curves, she let him get good and worked up before abruptly rolling away, stretching out on her side next to him facing him.

“The fuck?”  He was adorably rumpled, baffled by her sudden disappearance, hands still cupping air where moments before had been her breasts.

“Why is this ballet thing so important to you?”

Malcolm slowly shifted down to face her, expression on the verge of sulking.  “That was cruel.”  He put his hand on her hip and she allowed it, but gave it a firm touch, silently telling him it can stay here, but no more.

“Babe.”

He sighed, grumbling, as he kneaded her hip and contemplated her question.  “I… want to take her to see the Nutcracker this Christmas, at the Royal Opera House.”

“Okay.”

When she didn’t say anything else his expression brightened, palm attempting to slide around to her bum, but she returned it to her hip, raising an eyebrow.  I know there’s more.

His expression turned mutinous, but eventually shifted to resigned, and he rolled onto his back.  “When we first moved to London, I promised Clara I would take her.  By the time I remembered, all the tickets were sold and we couldn’t get in.  The following year I did remember, but when I surprised her with them she refused to go, said she was too old, it was for babies, et cetera.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah, only I found out years later, she did want to go.  That she’d been dropping hints for months which I’d admittedly missed, and was so upset I hadn’t said or done anything that she threw a fit.  She’d wanted me to essentially grovel, I suppose, cajole her into it, and I didn’t.  I mean, I did, I asked her a few times, said we could go for the first act and if she didn’t like it we could leave, but I suppose it wasn’t the dramatic begging she’d expected, and, well, after a few refusals I accepted her answer and gave the tickets away.  I didn’t find out about any of this until she was, oh, seventeen, and we had a big blow out about it.”

Rose placed her hand on his chest over his heart.  “You’re a wonderful father.”

He rolled his head to face her, smiling wanly.  “I’d like to think so.”

“No, you are,” she insisted.  “Both of your daughters would agree if they were here right now.  Why did Clara think-”

“You never really know what your kids pick up on,” he said, cutting her off with an apologetic squeeze.  “Apparently she’d watched me beg Missy for scraps of affection- not just for me, for both of us- too many times, and thought that was… I dunno… appropriate?  That you shouldn’t give in until that happens?  She obviously knows better now, but she was only a kid then, and you model what you see.  We’ve talked it over, long since resolved it and forgiven each other, but…”

“But you still want to take your little girl to the show,” Rose understood, “and you’re afraid that if it looks like your idea, Clara’s feelings will get hurt.”

“Yeah.”  He let out a breath like a weight had been taken off his chest.  “And, I suppose I could just take them both, but… I don’t want JJ to feel like everything has to always include her siblings, especially Clara.  Which sounds awful, but they’re at such different stages of life… I want this to just be me and her.  And I feel like a shit father for wanting to exclude my child, even if she is an adult.  Especially when she probably already feels excluded from our lives, at least as a child of this family.”

“Clara understands-”

“You cried when your parents took Tony to Disneyland Paris,” he cut her off again, rolling back onto his side to face her.  “Rose, you sobbed so hard I thought you were going to be sick.  And you were perfectly fine with it- at least as far as I could tell- until the night they left.  And don’t say it’s different, because it’s not.”

Rose remembered that night, how she’d broken down after they’d called to tell her they’d arrived.  How every excited chirp from her brother had felt like being stabbed in the heart, even though she’d given her blessing and been fully in favor of the trip until that moment.  “Maybe Clara’s a better person than I am.”

“I love my child with everything I am, but Rose, no, she’s not.  I mean, it’s about a picture perfect finish between you- not that it’s a race- but… no, she’s not.”

“Rude,” she pinched him, grinning.  “You could take them each separately.  Doesn’t it start early in December?  Why not take Clara the first week, have that healing experience, then take JJ right before the holiday.  This way you get to experience it with both daughters, they’re not overshadowing each other, and JJ never has to know you took Clara first.”

He stayed silent, mulling the idea over, and this time when his hand slid back, she allowed it.  “Why are you so smart?  It’s not fair, you’ve got such beauty and brains.”

“The blonde is dye,” she reminded him with a laugh.  “And, I’ve got a different perspective on it.  That’s why you love me.”

“Part of it,” Malcolm allowed.  “All right, I’ll talk to Clara, see what she thinks – about her and I going, not the rest of it, at least for now.”

“Good.”

They laid there together in silence, almost nose to nose, and even after six years of marriage Rose was still overcome by the simplicity of his presence making her heart sing.

“So, can we…” he trailed off, and she laughed, obligingly rolling onto her back.

“Well, I suppose it’s only fair,” she said, feigning reluctance, and it didn’t take long for their laughter and teasing to turn to sighs and moans.

-

“Perfect,” Rose declared, putting down the hairspray.  “You’re all set.”

“Wow,” JJ breathed, admiring her reflection.  They’d gone shopping for a new dress specifically for the occasion, and Rose had given her the royal treatment – new earrings and a necklace, nails painted, some eye shadow and lip gloss, while white tights and shiny black ballet flats complimented the crushed velvet and tulle dress, and Rose’s heart twinged.

“You look so grown up,” she said softly, smoothing already-smooth hair just to touch her child.  “Are you looking forward to your date with daddy?”

“Uh huh,” the little head bounced, pulling faces in the mirror.  “I look so pretty!”

“Yes, you do.”

JJ turned then, throwing her arms around Rose.  “Thank you, Mummy.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Oh, God, I’m gonna cry. Rose struggled to keep her composure, hugging her daughter tightly.  “I love you so much JJ.”

A knock on JJ’s bedroom door pulled their attention, and Rose made her eyes big.  “I wonder who that could be?”  Stepping towards the door, she smiled at the giggling behind her as she opened it.  “Oh, hello sir, can I help you?”

Malcolm grinned.  “I’m looking for a Miss JJ Tucker.  Is she here?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” she rushed forward, elbowing her mother out of the way only to stop dead.  “Woah.  Are those for me?”

Rose was glad to already have her mobile out and filming, as she managed to catch the surprise and delight as JJ saw the small bouquet of flowers he held.

“Indeed they are,” he knelt down to pass them to her, and they laughed as JJ stuck her face into them, dramatically sniffing.

“Thank you, Daddy,” JJ threw her arms around his neck, nestling into him.  He held her close as long as she wanted, but his watery eyes were on Rose, and he mouthed thank you.

She just smiled, nodding, and eased the flowers from JJ’s hand.  “I’ll put these in water for you, baby, and we’ll put them on your dresser so you can see them when you go to sleep and wake up.”

“Okay,” JJ said, frowning, but Malcolm distracted her, taking her hand and leading her away.

“Are we all ready to go?”

“Yes, Daddy.  Can we meet any of the bal’rinas?”

Rose smiled as she followed them down the stairs, sniffing the flowers for herself – he’d picked them on his own, and they were perfect – bright pinks and soft purples, JJ’s favorite colors, with a few hints of blue.  Still recording the moment for posterity, she captured the excited squeal their daughter gave at seeing Graham all dressed up like an old-fashioned driver, the town car decorated inside and out for the season.

Waving goodbye, JJ’s bright smile in the window, wonder written all over her face, made Rose’s heart sing.

Stopping the recording she shook her head, closing and locking the door firmly behind her before heading for the living room, where Olly was just waking up in his playpen.

“Looks like it’s mummy-son date afternoon as well,” she cooed, picking him up as he babbled her name.  “What do you say we watch a movie?  Yeah?”  She blew a raspberry on the baby’s tummy, relishing his giggling.

One diaper change later they settled on the sofa, and Rose used the voice command to pick a movie.

“Siri?  Show us The Nutcracker.”

[sakura-samsara]

Shigehira Main Story: Chapter 13

← Chapter 12

✦ part one

Yasuchika: So it seems Yoshino-san has safely returned to Kamakura!

Yasuchika was holding an audience with one of his subordinates in an elegantly furnished room.

Yasuchika: Those two were lovely test subjects. I’ll have to thank them for giving me such a great research opportunity.

Yasuchika’s Subordinate: If I’m not mistaken, you had the woman exterminate a hallucinatory ayakashi… correct? 

Yauchika’s Subordinate: Such ayakashi are rarely seen near human settlements, but they are hardly a serious threat. I am certain that its appearance would not incur suspicion towards you, Yasuchika-sama.

Yasuchika: Oh, I’m not worried about being seen at all! I just wanted to conduct some research for a new technique.

Yasuchika’s Subordinate: O-Of course…

Yasuchika: I’m so happy I got to see Shige-chan get injured, too.

Yasuchika’s Subordinate: …Hm?

Yasuchika: Shige-chan seems like such a disciplined warrior,

Yasuchika: But as soon as the ayakashi turned into a little girl, he immediately hesitated to attack it. How wonderful. 

Yasuchika squinted as he stretched with the languor of a cat lounging in the sun. 

His gaze, however, was not heavy with sleepiness—it gleamed with a sharp, cold brilliance.

The subordinate stiffened at the chill in the air from Yasuchika’s change in demeanor.

Yasuchika: I suppose the next time I’ll see the two of them will be on the battlefield. I’m really looking forward to it. 

Yasuchika’s Subordinate: Yasuchika-sama, isn’t it…

Yasuchika: Hm?

Yasuchika’s Subordinate: Isn’t all of this business with the shogunate and the rebel army rather frightening to you?

Yasuchika: Well, in my opinion, someone who views his work in terms of whether it’s frightening or not wouldn’t be fit to be an onmyōji at all.

Yasuchika: Especially when you work at the palace. You get asked to do all sorts of crazy things, but you can’t exactly turn down the requests, so you just have to get used to it! 

Yasuchika’s Subordinate: I understand… Well said, Yasuchika-sama. It is only natural, given your superior skill in onmyōdō. 

The subordinate’s polite words hardly concealed his eagerness to curry favor with Yasuchika.

Yasuchika’s Subordinate: I sincerely hope that you will demonstrate the new technique you are developing to us when it is ready… 

Yasuchika: You know, I think I will.

Yasuchika nodded, the gesture somehow childlike and elegant at once.

Yasuchika: I’d really like it if lots of people got to see it. 

(So this is Kagetoki-san’s mansion…? Somehow I’m starting to feel on edge just by being here.) 

Shigehira: This way, Yoshino-san.

Yoshino: Okay!

Shigehira confidently led me towards Kagetoki’s estate, seeming as though he'd taken this route many times before.

Yoshino: Do you visit Kagetoki-san’s place a lot, Shigehira-kun? 

Shigehira: I guess I do.

Shigehira: Kagetoki-san mentors me in my studies, so I often borrow books from him.

Shigehira: At some point, he started letting me come and go whenever I wanted.

Yoshino: Really…?

The image of Kagetoki—staring cold, sharp daggers from behind his spectacles—popped into my mind. 

Yoshino: It’s a little hard to think of Kagetoki-san being any sort of teacher… 

Shigehira: You’d be surprised. He’s a pretty good mentor, since he’s so knowledgeable and logical.

✦ part two

Shigehira: You’d be surprised. He’s a pretty good mentor, since he’s so knowledgeable and logical.

Shigehira: But I doubt he would spare his time to teach just anybody, unless they give him a good reason to.

Yoshino: Then what’s his reason for mentoring you? 

Shigehira: I give him koto lessons in return. We're really just exchanging services.

Yoshino: Really?!

Yoshino: I didn’t know you could play the koto too!

Shigehira: I just know the basics, that’s all. 

(But he’s such a skilled biwa player… I’m sure he knows more than just the basics of the koto, too.)

I felt a surge of admiration for Shigehira as I looked at him.

I admire you (Romantic +4, Dramatic +2) You’re a prodigy (Romantic +2, Dramatic +4) You must love it (Romantic +4, Dramatic +4)

Yoshino: You must really love playing music.

Shigehira: I’ve always enjoyed it. I try to make time to practice every day, no matter how busy my schedule gets.

Yoshino: That's amazing! I bet Kagetoki-san must be a wonderful koto player if you’re his teacher.

Shigehira: Well… I don’t know about that. 

I turned my head towards Shigehira to see an uncharacteristically dodgy expression pop up on his face.

Shigehira: Teaching him never fails to remind me that, uh, everyone has unique talents.

Yoshino: What do you mean?

Shigehira: Um… Anyways, Kagetoki-san should be in here. 

Shigehira stopped in front of the door to the main room to call out to Kagetoki.

Shigehira: Kagetoki-san, are you home?

He didn’t wait for a response before opening the sliding door, when…

Woman: …Oh! E-Excuse me!!

Shigehira: …?!

(Huh?)

A woman stumbled out of the room in a panic. I glimpsed a flustered expression on her face as she shot past us.

Then I caught a whiff of a heady, sensual fragrance—there must have been incense burning inside the room.

Kagetoki: You’re too impatient, Shigehira. Did you never learn not to invite yourself into a room?

(O-Oh…)

When I finally looked past the mountainous stacks of books blocking most of the view into the room,

I saw Kagetoki straightening the lapels of his robe, looking uncharacteristically relaxed as he raised his gaze to us. 

Shigehira: W-Well, you’re usually too wrapped up in your reading to respond when I knock, so I just assumed—

Kagetoki: I suppose you’re not wrong.

Kagetoki: I did tell my retainers to ask any guests to wait to be received. There must have been a miscommunication for this to have occurred. 

Despite our sudden intrusion, Kagetoki hardly seemed bothered.

(Well, now I definitely know what was going on in here before we arrived…)

Yoshino: …I’m so sorry for the intrusion. We wouldn’t have bothered you if we’d known that your lover was visiting you. 

(If anything, I’m just a little surprised.)

(Kagetoki-san is quite good-looking, and I’m sure that he wouldn’t have any trouble finding a partner if he wanted one,)

(But he doesn’t seem like he lets people get close to him very easily. I can’t imagine him being interested in romance at all.)

Kagetoki: Lover? She and I have no such relationship. 

Yoshino: R-Really? 

Kagetoki: She made an offer to me, and I accepted it. It wasn’t as if I had any reason to refuse her.

Kagetoki: Unfortunately, thanks to you two, our rendezvous ended before it could begin.

(...This is so awkward.)

Shigehira: …Disgusting.

I could only stand there speechless, but Shigehira didn’t hesitate to mutter his displeased response under his breath.

Kagetoki: Are you still too young to understand such things, Shigehira? 

Shigehira: It doesn’t matter how old I am or how old I get! I will never engage in this debauchery for a single day in the rest of my life!

Kagetoki: What an uncouth thing to say. It’s hardly debauchery. 

Kagetoki: If you’re not in the mood for it, you can simply refuse. 

Kagetoki: You don’t eat when your stomach is full, do you? In that sense, it’s no different than satiating hunger. 

(That sure is an interesting way to think of it.)

Yoshino: Personally, I’m inclined to disagree…

Kagetoki: That’s a rather foolish opinion.

Shigehira: No, I agree with her. 

 ✦ part three

Shigehira: No, I agree with her. 

Kagetoki: Is that so?

Kagetoki: I would expect nothing less from a man who receives countless love letters and rejects every single one. 

(Love letters, huh…?)

Yoshino: Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t be feasible for him to accept every letter…

Yoshino: Haven’t you considered at least one of the people who’s written to you, though, Shigehira-kun? 

Shigehira: No. I don’t have the time to bother with my love life right now. 

Yoshino: …Oh. That makes sense.

(He’s trying to reestablish the Heike, after all, and the shadow of the past is still hanging over him.)

(When he’s on a mission that’s so important to him, he probably thinks that pursuing love would just be a distraction.)

I was sure that my guess was correct, and if so, it would be a perfectly rational reason not to be interested in a relationship. But, for some reason, I felt a sharp prick deep within my chest as I thought it over.

Shigehira: It’s a pain to be barraged with letters from people I barely even know… 

Shigehira: But it’s not like I can stop them, so I still reply to all the letters.

Kagetoki: If you’re truly not looking to begin a relationship with anyone, then why do you bother with responding to any of the letters you receive? 

Shigehira: It’d be rude if I didn’t. Not receiving a response would imply a rejection, so it’s better that I tell them the truth outright.

Kagetoki: I’d think that receiving an implied rejection would be less emotionally damaging than an explicit one.

Shigehira: Do you think so…?

Shigehira: I don’t know. I feel like it would be more stressful to someone if I kept them waiting for a response that they were never going to get.

(He thinks of others so much…)

Kagetoki: That's very earnest of you.

Shigehira: …You’re being surprisingly prudent now, Kagetoki-san. But you’d better be careful not to slip up and say the wrong thing, or else you’ll definitely regret it.

Kagetoki: I would never make such a grave mistake. 

Kagetoki nonchalantly pushed a pile of books to the side, gesturing for us to sit in the space he'd cleared off.

(Even beyond the initial surprise, I'm genuinely shocked by how cluttered Kagetoki-san's room is. Everywhere I look, I see books.)

Shigehira: Be careful, Yoshino-san. 

Shigehira: If you knock over one of these bookstacks, you’ll set off an avalanche. You might never make it out alive from underneath all the books.

Yoshino: …Got it.

(I think I finally get why Shigehira-kun said that Kagetoki-san’s place was dangerous to visit.) 

Yoshino: Um... I don't mean this to be rude, but I don't suppose you're particularly keen on organizing your books?

Kagetoki: My arrangement is organized by my own standards. Your opinion that I am untidy is of no importance to me. 

(Huh.)

Shigehira: Alright, fine. Sure. There’s no need to quibble over this. 

Shigehira: Your room is even messier than usual today, though... 

Kagetoki: War is on the horizon, after all. In times like these, it’s not unreasonable to give a bit less care to the trivialities of daily life.

Shigehira: Just a bit less, huh…?

Kagetoki turned towards me, almost as if he was physically deflecting Shigehira's doubtful look.

Kagetoki: Now, I assume you’ve come to discuss our medicine reserves and the proposed combat medic system?

Yoshino: That’s right. 

Kagetoki: Then why are you here, Shigehira? Is Yoshino babysitting you?

Kagetoki: I didn’t know that you were such a pampered child. She’s spoiling you rotten.

A teasing smirk tugged at Kagetoki's lips as he removed some documents from a drawer.

Shigehira: I just wanted to borrow a book from you! That’s the only reason why I came with her!!

Kagetoki: Oh, really? 

Shigehira: Can you quit being facetious and actually listen to what I’m saying for once?

Kagetoki: I’ll see what I can do. 

✦ part four

Kagetoki: I’ll see what I can do. 

His tone did not indicate in the slightest that he intended to stop. Once he had made his way back to us, he handed me the stack documents he'd retrieved.

Yoshino: What’s this?

Kagetoki: They detail our estimated rations, the route for our troops' march, and other such matters.

Kagetoki: The information in them will be used to calculate an estimate of the amount of medicine we will need to stockpile, and the format in which they are written will be used to document it.

Shigehira: ...These must be the documents that Yoritomo-sama asked you to compile last night.

Shigehira: Have you already finished them?

(Does that mean that Kagetoki-san finished all of this paperwork in less than a day?!)

Kagetoki: Of course. I wouldn't accept a woman's invitation just to make her wait until I finished my paperwork.

Shigehira: ...I can't believe this.

Shigehira: You can write all of these documents in one night, but you can't even clean up your own room?

Kagetoki: These documents and the state of my room have nothing to do with each other.

Kagetoki responded curtly before presenting us with another document.

Kagetoki: This here is a summary of the structure of our field medicine system.

Kagetoki: We'll use this as a basis upon which we can develop the details. Shall we begin?

Yoshino: Y-Yes. If I may ask, when did you happen to write this document...?

Kagetoki: I had some spare time while preparing the documents I gave you previously, so I used it to write this one.

Shigehira: Seriously... If you were capable of cleaning up your room, and you stopped treating women the way that you do,

Shigehira: And you stopped teasing me so much, I'd defer to you without a single complaint.

Kagetoki: How cute, Shigehira.

(Shigehira-kun said that he and Kagetoki-san were just exchanging services with each other, but these two must be fairly close if they're speaking to each other like this.)

From then onwards, we began to discuss our medicine reserves and our field nursing system, using Kagetoki's documents as our reference.

Once our work was winding down to an end...

Kagetoki: Our discussion has gone on for quite some time now. I think I’d like to have something to drink. 

Shigehira: I’ll call one of the maids to make some tea. 

Shigehira quickly rose to his feet.

Kagetoki: Much obliged.

Yoshino: Thanks, Shigehira-kun.

Now, I was alone with Kagetoki...

Kagetoki: It seems like Shigehira has been getting along with you quite well. 

Kagetoki: You’re far more persuasive than I expected you to be, Yoshino. 

(What?)

Flustered, I felt my gaze dart around the room, landing everywhere but on Kagetoki himself.

Yoshino: That’s not true. I didn’t persuade him into doing anything for me.

Yoshino: It’s really just that Shigehira-kun is a kind person. That’s the only reason that he’s being so nice to me—in his own way, of course.

Kagetoki: Is that what you think?

Kagetoki: You should know that Shigehira only takes such interest in people whom he approves of. Especially when it comes to members of the shogunate. 

(I guess I can see what he means… I know Shigehira-kun comes across as quite uptight to a lot of people.)

Yoshino: …Did you know Shigehira-kun before he joined the shogunate, Kagetoki-san? 

Kagetoki: In a way, I did. After Shigehira had been taken as a prisoner of war, I was the one who escorted him to Kamakura.

✦ part five

Yoshino: …Did you know Shigehira-kun before he joined the shogunate, Kagetoki-san? 

Kagetoki: In a way, I did. After Shigehira had been taken as a prisoner of war, I was the one who escorted him to Kamakura.

(Really?!)

Yoshino: I wonder what Shigehira-kun was like back then.

I couldn't help but let my curiosity win over me.

Kagetoki: He was the same at heart as he is now. He was stubborn, straightlaced, and terribly oblique—yet everything he did was for others' sake. 

Yoshino: That certainly sounds like the Shigehira-kun I know. 

The sentiment brought a slight smile to my face.

Yoshino: But I bet he must have been especially full of resolve when he was on his way to Kamakura. 

Yoshino: …His intention in coming here was to negotiate with Yoritomo-sama, after all.

Kagetoki: Oh? Shigehira has told you about that?

Kagetoki's gaze, usually so cool and unconcerned, seemed to sharpen with interest.

Kagetoki: In any case, you would be correct. Back then, Shigehira was…

—flashback

Yoritomo: Unfortunately, our negotiations are now off. 

Shigehira: …I take it the Imperial Court has intervened.

Yoritomo: Do you have any last words, Taira no Shigehira?

Shigehira: None in particular. 

Shigehira: I no longer have anything to say for myself now that I am captive.

Shigehira: For one who has lived their life on the battlefield, there is no shame in dying as a prisoner of war. Just behead me quickly.

Yoritomo: ……

—flashback ends

I was silent as Kagetoki quietly recounted the past to me.

Kagetoki: His honor and resolve astonished everyone in the room, myself included.

Kagetoki: Even Yoritomo-sama was moved by it enough to spare Shigehira’s life and offer him a place in the shogunate. 

Yoshino: I see…

(Shigehira-kun told me that Yoritomo-sama formed an alliance with him on a mere whim.)

(It seems that Yoritomo-sama’s true reason for proposing the alliance was because of Shigehira-kun himself.)

Kagetoki: Yoshino. 

Yoshino: …What is it?

I was caught off guard by Kagetoki’s hushed voice, and my response came out nervous and hesitant.

Kagetoki: I’m sure you’ve realized that Shigehira is a pitifully honest man.

Kagetoki: It would be far too easy for someone to take advantage of his most glaring weakness and hurt him.

Yoshino: …Right. 

The memory of Shigehira interacting with the nobles of the Imperial Court, their honeyed words masking poisoned sentiments, came to my mind.

Kagetoki: But Yoritomo-sama approves of him nonetheless…

Kagetoki: …Because Shigehira possesses a special quality.

Yoshino: Special? What do you mean?

Kagetoki: I won’t tell you that.

(Huh?)

Kagetoki: If Shigehira truly cares for you, then you will eventually learn what I mean for yourself. 

(Well, that doesn’t answer any of my questions…)

I must have looked exceptionally confused; Kagetoki studied my face for a moment before he smiled.

Kagetoki: Do my words truly puzzle you so much?

Yoshino: W-Well, I just…

Kagetoki: Then allow me to put it this way, Yoshino.

(Uhh...)

Long, deft fingers trailed down my jaw before tilting up my chin.

(What is Kagetoki-san doing??)

His eyes narrowed, and his intense gaze from behind his spectacles focused on me as though he was sizing up prey he’d caught in his clutches.

Kagetoki: I’ll make myself clear to you, if you’re willing to take the place of the woman who was visiting me earlier.

Yoshino: Huh…?

My eyes widened in shock at the sultry timbre in his voice, but at the very next moment—

Shigehira: Wh—What are you doing?! 

Chapter 14 →

Notes:

The koto is the national instrument of Japan—a long, many-stringed zither that’s played by striking the strings with one’s fingers or with plectrums.

Shigehira’s “last words” in the flashback are a paraphrase of a quote by the real Taira no Shigehira that was recorded in the Azuma Kagami, which was a historical chronicle written in 1266 that recounted events of the Genpei War and the Kamakura Shogunate. The full quotation was supposedly* spoken by Taira no Shigehira when he was living as a POW, painting him as a warrior of dignified and humble character—even in the face of his impending execution. 

IRL Taira no Shigehira was killed shortly after being taken as a POW by the Genji. During the Genpei War, Shigehira served as a Heike commander in the 1180 Siege of Nara, which was part of a revenge campaign against warrior monks from various monasteries who had aided the Genji in a prior battle. Despite being vastly outnumbered by the warrior monks, the Heike won victory by burning down almost every single monastery and temple in the city of Nara, including the powerful Kōfuku-ji and Tōdai-ji temple complexes. However, their methods earned them revile from many (including the Imperial Court) due to the sacrilegious act of destroying temples and the shocking scale of death and destruction that they inflicted on the city—around 3,500 people died during the siege. A great deal of hatred was directed towards Shigehira personally… even though there doesn't seem to be consensus about if he himself ordered the burning of Nara, or if the Heike even intended to cause the level of destruction they did at all. (Setting fires on the battlefield to increase visibility during night time was a common battle tactic of the era, and the weather conditions during the time of the battle may have spread any fires set by the Heike further than they might have intended.) Regardless of the extent of Shigehira’s role in the Siege of Nara, he would eventually pay the ultimate price for it. After he was captured by the Genji at the Battle of Ichi-no-Tani in 1184, he was handed over to the surviving monks of the Tōdai-ji, who executed him in 1185 as revenge for the burning of their monastery.

*Though the Azuma Kagami is considered the most important historical document about the Kamakura shogunate, it’s important to note that it’s not a completely reliable account. It was compiled in the 13th century by the Hōjō clan (which the real Minamoto no Yoritomo married into; after his death, the Hōjō clan took control of the Kamakura shogunate), who were very obviously biased towards their own clan and against the Minamoto clan in their retelling of historical events. Throughout history, the Azuma Kagami has also passed through the hands of many others (most notably including everyone’s favorite shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu) who may have altered it to fit their own agendas. Thus, it’s not certain whether everything that was recorded in the chronicle was completely true to real life, including its account of Taira no Shigehira’s last days.

[freshlybakedspiderbread]

my immediate (well its been a whole day and then some, so not really) touhou 19 impressions for all the new characterbelow the read more so beware spoilers!

for context, all my knowledge and understanding of the plot and dialogue comes from a scattered mix of the translated omake, official profiles, a pal explaining this or that line, various different snippets of online talk i saw, and general me absorbing vibes through the screen after playing the game for over seven hours. if i got something wrong, oh well, there will be plenty of time to come to get a clearer picture of everyone!

its neat how the three new animal girls on the cover are all associated with one of the leaders from the animal realm. Although at first i assumed that meant there wouldnt be much to think of them beyond that because i also assumed they came from the animal realm to work with their respective leader. But actually they all come from Gensokyo, and the animal leaders got them to join their cause! That's way more interesting to me, and makes me wonder if all those three's posturing about taking over gensokyo might not just be hot air after all...

All three of them also have either direct or indirect connections to the final boss but i'll get to her later. for now my thoughts of all the newcomers one by one...

son biten 🐵 : okay so when i first saw an image of her, i went 'oh its sun wukong. okay...' and didnt think much of her beyond that, but her story is a lot more funny than that. she was (is) in fact just a normal monkey girl (normal by gensokyo standards) who got into big trouble but was 'saved' by Yachie, who convinced her that she's the legendary sun wukong. Now she proclaims herself as a hero and thinks Yachie, who only wants to use her as a tool, is her best friend. That's a lot more endearing to me than i thought and maybe i am more than a little invested in this bizarre dynamic between monkey and tortoise.

mitsugashira enoko 🐺🐺🐺: pretty similar to Biten's story albeit more straightforwardly charming. she was a regular animal who turned into a monster and was well on her way to becoming a really nasty one at that, but then Saki came along, showed off her back muscles, and was like 'join my gang', and then Enoko calmed down and was happy to do so! its funny but also kinda sweet? but really the most i have to say is that the bear traps on her wrists are funny. the profile and ending images make it seem to me like they do Not come off and those may as well be her hands. I know for sure Saki offered to shake her hand and did not regret it 🤠

tenkajin chiyari 🩸: what a freak!!!!!!! just some lanky, hunched over creature that literally nobody even knows what species she is, who lurks in the deepest depths of hell who loves doing nothing more than gulping up pools of cursed blood in her free time. I thought Momoyo, who lives in a cave and eats rocks was a freak, but Chiyari is on a whole other level. I love her. it's so easy to see how she and Yuuma beccame friends due to their 'common interests'.

yomotsu hisami 🍇: she's so cool!!!!!!! i can't believe she's probably the least revelant out of the newcomers 😂 great design and concept, and her whole thing in nearly every route she appears in is trying to drag you to hell, offering a sweet deal and then happily resorting to force if refused, its so good. Hisami is also technically subservient to the final boss Zanmu (because she's hot) but will also just do whatever she wants and Zanmu just has to deal with that... Speaking of!

nippaku zanmu 👹: i think she's neat 🙂 I mean, like a lot of touhou final bosses, most of their meat comes from their elaborate backstory and someone else will have to comment about how its a cool intepretation of this or that myth. as mentioned, she has at least some form of role whether minor or direct to the backstory of every other newcomer, which is cool and lends a more connective tissue to the cast as a whole, and she's also a big authorative figure in hell! all the different profiles like to emphasize how Zanmu is a planner type who controls everything with guile and information, and the plan she sets in motion in the game's plot mostly goes off without a hitch, even with so many different characters butting heads with one another. The most interesting bit of all this only really comes in at the very very end, where she calls off her plan to take control of everything herself, instead choosing to trust Reimu because she sees her as a kindred spirit. fun to think about the implications of that...

[thejuvenilem]

oasis on the humorous talk talk talk section of melody maker, 3/9/1994

this made me laugh a little bit, I confess.

transcription of the image:

(Scene: Backstage at the Rock Till You Are Hot! Club)

NOEL: Good gig, our Liam.

LIAM (munching sandwich): Aye. Not bad, our Noel.

NOEL: Giss a bit of your sandwich.

LIAM: Gerroff!

OASIS' MANAGER: Knock, knock. Guys, can you spare a moment? I've got this guy outside, some Belgian, he just wants to do a short interview with you.

LIAM: Tell him we're gonna be bigger than The Beatles and The Stones, we don't do interviews.

NOEL: Aye. Tell him to fook off.

MANAGER: Please, guys, for me? He's been doing barnyard impersonations at me all day, just give me a break, would you?

NOEL: Tell him we don't wanna be bothered.

PEPE LePUNK (bursting in): It is quite all right, this is not bothering to me at all. It is a great honour to be parlaying with England's hottest new band. This is a proud day. My Grandmother has slaughtered a goat.

LIAM (spitting out crumbs): Who the fook are you?

PEPE: I am Pepe Le Punk and I'm looking good. I have many questions for you, which you will answer to me when I have produced my notebook from the bottom of my rucksack of many colours.

NOEL: Twat'im, our Liam!

LIAM: Twat'im yerself, you lazy bastard!

PEPE: My first question is this. In my small village of Uiicht, 30 miles from Antwerp, we are having this Saturday a grand festival. The Mayor will be there, his wife, the treasurer, and many local children in their finery. There will be music, dacing, games and home-made lemonade. You will play at the festival for us, yes? It would be interesting, I think, for the people to hear you. It will mean much free lemonade. Also, my grandmother will slaughter another goat.

LIAM: Fook off! We don't play fookin' stupid garden parties!

NOEL: Aye! We're gonna be bigger than The Beatles and The Stones, us. I always knew we would be.

PEPE: Heh heh. No, you won't.

NOEL: We fookin' will.

PEPE: No you won't. It is impossible. Even Plastic Bertrand, Belgium's hottest punk, could not do it.

LIAM: You're gonna look pretty fookin' stupid in five years' time, pal!

PEPE: Not if I am wearing these glasses, I will not.

LIAM: Twat'im, Noel.

PEPE: I have another question. What do you think of the bands who coming up doing the impersonations of you? It is outrageous spunk on their behalf, is it not?

NOEL: Er - aye. Oh, aye. Well out of order, like.

PEPE: I am thinking, of course, of these idiots Oasis. They have, as you say, ripped off on you, huh?

LIAM: Eh?

PEPE: How you must feel, working for many years in your Welsh cottages to write the hottest songs possible, still better than "I Want To Be Adored" and "One Love", only for these scum-sucking swine to steal your look, your sound, your attitude, your stylish appearance, like pigs in the night.

NOEL (to LIAM): Silly fooker thinks we're The Stone Roses! Us! (To PEPE) Listen, pal. We -

PEPE (glasses steaming up): We have read about this in Belgium and are mad as hats at these Oasis imposteurs. We take our rock très seriously and have no sense of irony. Word is out even now that these Oasis bastards have had the gall to appear here in Antwerp the very same day as you play here. I have many friends carrying flaming torches who are searching the town as we speak to hunt them down. We will not rest in our beds until we have defended the good name of you, The Stone Roses. It is a matter of honneur.

NOEL (passing finger nervously around inside of collar): Er - good on you, lad. Eh, our Liam? I mean, er - Ian.

LIAM: Oh! Er - yeah. Noel. I mean, Ian.

PEPE: And you will be happy to play at our village festival next Saturday, yes? I know a safe route back to zer hotel, in case any of my friends should mistake you for zese Oasis impostors and beat you to death with flaming torches.

LIAM: Er -yeah! Sound.

NOEL: Oh, aye. Free lemonane all night. Yippeee...

source:

[hungergameshyperfixation]

So, Hunger Games cosplay…

I have been seriously thinking about doing THG-related cosplays since last year, but this year I’m actually going to do one (or two!)

This is a little bit more of a personal project post rather than a general Hunger Games post, but I still wanted to share it here. Maybe I can make it like a mini project series of sorts, idk. I’m considering this more like a personal log of my thoughts and the process, rather than anything super helpful. Maybe at the end or along the way I can provide something useful for others/those reading along!

I would LOVE to do a movie-based cosplay, specifically Effie. She was admittedly one of the top contenders last year, considering I love her very standout and recognizable looks; I like playing around with color and wigs, so I thought she would be a great character to play around with.

But I have really been thinking about doing a book-specific cosplay. Ever since SOTR was announced, I got the idea to do a Maysilee Donner cosplay before we (hopefully…?) learn more about her through the book/see her onscreen. So, as tempting as it is to go into other cosplay ideas, right now I wanted to focus on the most interesting cosplay concept I have…

Maysilee Donner…

Despite thinking about this cosplay on and off for nearly four months, I still feel like I haven’t made too much headway. Maybe I’m just a little bit of a ruminator (although to some of y’all I’m probably on amateur hour), but there was a lot of thought going into this concept. Admittedly we’re about a month away from Halloween as I am starting to write this, so I’m kinda running low on time if the goal is to have this done by “socially acceptable time to dress up in costume” season LOL.

Maysilee Donner is a character currently only canonically present in “Catching Fire,” and it is almost guaranteed she will be present in SotR, unless the novel/film takes a completely different route. Still, even if the novel focuses on a character other than Haymitch or Maysilee, I still think there is a high probability we will see Maysilee Donner in at least the film, even if only briefly. We know she is blond (CF, page 196), we know she is a “merchant’s kid.” She is described by Katniss as brave, and we see her demonstrate her intelligence in the arena. She looks similar to Madge. She is only briefly in the book.

Here’s the more interesting thing about her in terms of the fandom. The (in my opinion iconic) YouTube fan made short film, “HUNGER GAMES: THE SECOND QUARTER QUELL,” showcases a depiction of Maysilee Donner. This actress, Stefania Barr, is (at least from my perspective) WIDELY used as the ‘image’ of Maysilee. From fan edits and fan art, I have seen her likeness (and the hairstyle) as the blueprint for Maysilee. Call me a little odd but I find this fandom behavior pretty interesting! I know it’s probably not super unique to THG (see also: “the Marauders fandom” something I’m admittedly not a huge part of), but I find it so fascinating that collectively I’ve seen people use her likeness as the most accepted fan cast for Maysilee. Which by the way, that’s so amazing for her LMAO I think it’s really cool.

But all this to say, tying this little deep dive back into my cosplay ventures, I’m debating on HOW I want to portray my Maysilee cosplay. There will be a lot of creative liberties taken, I’d say. From wig color, hairstyles, and the outfit, there’s a lot to consider. I wanted to specifically do Maysilee BECAUSE she is as of right now only in CF, and she’s very likely going to be explored more in some capacity by SotR. I kinda feel like this is the perfect window in time to cosplay Maysilee and other pre-74th/50th Hunger Games characters, since we are about to be getting a lot of new information about them!

It is kind of like a time capsule and a way to show off our personal interpretations of the characters pre-SotR releasing. And it would be fun to look back on!

So, since I’m indecisive and I also LOVE seeing other people’s insights, I was kinda thinking of doing some polls related to the cosplay building process. So, hopefully more to come!!

[wildflower-otome]

Finally finished the Virche FD a few days ago and just wanted to write down a few thoughts/mini-review on it. Vague spoilers only below.

Started off by playing through the short story section of which there are about 8 pages or so of. There were lots of fun fluffy ones (I especially enjoyed the ones that are just the guys talking at Adolphe’s place), ones that fill in gaps or are POV stories of side characters, there are a LOT of CG’s in this section. There’s even stories that are after stories of the side bad ends from the OG game too for all the bad end lovers. Overall thought it was an interesting range of cute stories to some rather disturbing/dark ones.

Did the encore section next, which are basically alternate routes that start from a certain point in the original game and end the story in a completely different way. I do rather have mixed thoughts on the encores. Played Lucas’s first since he was my first route in the first game too and after playing all of them definitely feel his was the best one of the lot. Although it was still bittersweet, there were still a lot of good moments and parts where I cheered because they overturned some of the more awful things to happen in the OG route.

Aside from Lucas, also really enjoyed Yves’ route too, although I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily a ‘happier’ version of the OG either it still had some great scenes. Mixed thoughts on Scien’s route, I think people that are interested in a mad scientist Scien might like it but unfortunately it wasn’t really for me. I thought the main end was kind of cute but the bad endings really broke Scien’s image to me and I ended up really disliking him. Mathis’ route as a whole had me reeling and I actually had to take a break and play something else for a while. Truly the epitome of And It Got Worse. For Adolphe, I feel like he already had a good end in the first game, so unfortunately his encore was kind of mediocre in comparison.

The after salvation ends for the most part did not disappoint, with one exception I was really happy with all of them. Some nice romantic CG’s and moments, and also a tying up of loose plot ends from the original game. I also really liked how characters got new sprite outfits which was fun. Those after despair ends though…Yves and Mathis’s in particular were pretty disturbing imo. I actually thought Adolphe had the most interesting despair after end, definitely did a great job of portraying true never-ending despair.

The Drifter route was an enjoyable side story and also kind of functions as an origin story for Ankou as well which makes sense as it needs to be played before unlocking Ankou’s route. His and Ankou’s interactions and friendship was a lot of fun to watch and the ending was pretty touching too.

And last of all, just have to gush about Ankou’s route. Absolutely one of the best routes I’ve played in any otome game so far and will probably remain so. Especially after playing through some of the  more gruelling routes in the FD, it was a really enjoyable experience. I think there’s also just something so cathartic about seeing the series’ most long-suffering character finally get the happiness he deserves. Ankou and Ceres at the beginning are two people that don’t really see the value in their own lives, and to see that slowly start to change as their relationship develops and they meet other people on their journey was really heartwarming. I teared up a lot at the explanation of the game title “Epic Lycoris” in the epilogue too, just a really special and amazing route to cap off the series.

Overall, Ankou’s route aside, I will say that people that are expecting lots of fluff or a fix it fic type of thing for the original routes because it’s an FD will probably end up disappointed. It is a fan disc but it’s also very much still Virche so I would say to temper your expectations and you’ll probably end up with much more than you think. Definitely been a wild ride at times and while some parts were hard to get through, am really sad to say goodbye to the characters.  All in all, well worth a playthrough if you enjoyed the original game.

[hazukiyouka]

Personal Impression on DMMD Flashback 2023

First of all, even though I could pass through the region block thingy, but I had to set the video quality on auto or else the buffering time would drive me mad. So the result was, sometimes I got a super clear images then suddenly could switched to blurry ones. Which is kinda annoying cause I couldn't focus on their faces. 🙃

Anyway, I'm not really good at writing in Tumblr, so probably I'll just straight out pointing my impressions. Yes, this is my personal take after watching Virus & Trip route live streaming. I'll try my best not to spoil everything. 😄

Nothing really changed at the first part of the story. It just brought back the memories. Except that it wasn't Seichan as Aoba. 🥲

I should say both Seichan and Nao had their hit-and-miss parts. And strangely I feel like they can complement each other. Like, there were some parts where I thought Seichan did it better, or vice versa.

Everyone who were back to their respective roles really upgraded their game. Since I was watching this route, I think Tominaga Yuya really brought out the "quiet madness" of Virus.

(A bit) SPOILER ALERT: this ViTri route covered their Re:connect bad end story. Yes, most of it.

The second part where the story branched was really DENSE!! It felt like they try to squeeze the entire ViTri bad end into a single scene. Well, of course we just couldn't ask for more "detailed scenes", are we? 😌

Even so, I think Nao did well in this. I want to praise him for his courage to go...... uhmm.... shirtless.... on stage.

The interpretative dance at "those scenes" was appealing to me. I mean, it felt delicate and kinda suppressing. I like Nao's expressions here, especially when his eyes started to went dead. Uumm, please excuse my do-S part... lol

The ending was just like the game where Aoba was resigned to his fate. After that, we got all casts dancing to EVIL MASCULINE song (in which we can see it roaming around Twitter).

Overall, I'm quite impressed with this new route and how they performed it. As for the casting, I still think that Nao will be more suitable in portraying Sly Blue. That boy is surely sharp. While Seichan was softer, but I felt that he was a little bit overdid in some parts.

And finallyyyy! Though I'm, myself, still quite biased to Seichan but so sorry that I won't tolerate any slanders toward Nao. He had worked so hard and did a great job in this. Thankfully, he seems pretty calm and stays positive. So let's be kind to him~ 💙

[a-pale-azure-moon]

I'm a day late on this, but happy 5th anniversary to FE3H, the game that unexpectedly rewired my brain chemistry!

I've been a Fire Emblem fan since I first played Blazing Blade back in 2003 (yes I'm old), so when 3H was announced, I immediately pre-ordered it. I purposely stayed away from rumors, leaks, and most official information about it because I wanted to enjoy it spoiler free. (Much of Fates got spoiled for me and I didn't want a repeat of that.) The most I indulged in was watching the trailers for the individual houses when they came out. And that trailer. You know the one.

So I got the game shortly after launch, once Amazon shipped it to me, and I had no idea which House I was going to pick. I was slightly leaning towards the Golden Deer, largely from Claude's design and how he seemed "different" from previous FE lords, but I was truly undecided when I started. It was really a coin flip between the Lions and Deer right up to the point where the game forces you to choose. What ultimately made me pick the Blue Lions was actually Mercedes; I wasn't aware that recruitment was a thing yet and her Live to Serve skill stood out as particularly useful to me. Healer who can keep herself healed? Yeah, I want that on my team!

If I'm being honest, I didn't find anything about Dimitri particularly special right away. I certainly liked him, mostly because of his amazing voice (thank you Chris), but I recognized him as a Marth clone right from the start, so a lot about his character felt "generic" to me at first. The tone around him was considerably more somber compared to previous lords, and I was curious about why that was so, particularly since the timeskip trailer had spoiled that he goes through a dramatic transformation later in the story. So I was paying close attention to him as the game unfolded, but it wasn't until his breakdown at Remire in chapter 8 that it hit me just how radically different he was compared to previous Marths. That's where I got super invested in his story and started sacrificing sleep to play the game so I could find out what happened next. By the time I finished, my whole brain had been transformed into this:

(I forget where I first saw this image, so my apologies to whomever made it.)

2019 was a difficult year for me; my mom was going through some health issues, and my dad wasn't being particularly helpful in the ways she needed, which left me to pick up the slack (my older sister lives out of state and was/is busy with her three kids). I was also still trying to break out of a festering creative slump that had gone on for way too long, but changing that mindset is hard, especially when you've convinced yourself that everything you write sucks (and that therefore you suck).

So 3H and Azure Moon in particular wound up being a great comfort to me through an emotionally draining year (and then the pandemic hit...). Dimitri's story and character arc resonated with me in all the right ways, and it lit a new creative spark inside of me, the likes of which I hadn't felt in a long, long time. I almost wish I hadn't picked the Lions first, because the other routes wound up being a big disappointment to me when they failed to reach the same emotional high. I think I would've become a Lions stan even if I'd saved their route for last. It left THAT strong of an impression on me. I mean, I became obsessed enough that I wrote a freaking book, lol.

I'll be the first to admit that this game isn't perfect; some of its mechanics are wonky, classes aren't well balanced, there's not enough map diversity, Maddening Mode was definitely not properly play tested, and there are genuine flaws in some of its writing. I won't even get into the trashfire that is 3H discourse (which is somehow still a thing after all this time). I don't even think it's my favorite overall game in the series, but it's in my top 3 with Awakening and Path of Radiance. But the impact the game left on me is difficult to understate. I'm so happy it's a thing that exists and that it helped guide me to my current path.