#I replayed the trailer five times

[noceiling-m]

First Love: Hatsukoi (2022) trailer

All encounters are by chance. I don’t believe in fate. 

                                                          But I... I do believe in fate. Don’t run from it

[uncanny-fellow]

life is too short I wanna replay SO many video games

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 3

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The third time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — the one that hurts the most.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer

Author’s Note: It's part 3! The tension is heating up, the emotional stakes are rising, and my obsession is only getting worse / better. Let me know what you think! :)

Part 1 // Part 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You step into the darkened club at the height of the company’s weekend party, colorful lights flashing over the dozens of people dancing and chatting across the crowded room, but your eyes are sharpened on the lookout for just one person. Colt Seavers.

You can’t get him out of your head. You’ve spent the last three days doing everything in your power to avoid him on set, from locking yourself in the art trailer to conveniently arranging to work on the still-in-progress train station set. You had entertained the idea that if you could just keep from seeing him for a few days, you could stop replaying every moment of that night in your head.

But even when you’re knee-deep in epoxy or hyper-focused on scoring holes in iron beams, you’re envisioning the way the lamplight accentuated Colt’s features and reflected in his dark blue eyes that night. Try as you may, you can’t forget how absorbed he was in studying your face, or the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to escort you to your hotel, or the way he lingered at the doorway as if he wanted to say something.

And you especially can’t forget the way you thought he was going to kiss you.

But then, of course, you had to ruin it. You obviously came on too strong. You physically cringe every time you remember some of the things you said to Colt that night while you were so delirious you couldn’t even stand up straight.

“I bet the desk clerk thought I was drunk and bringing you home with me.”

“I couldn’t have made it without you.”

The fact that Colt has been avoiding you just as hard as you’ve been avoiding him only confirms your anxieties. In the past three days, you’ve only seen him twice, and both times he’s ducked away before you had to have a conversation. It’s not like anything shameful or immodest happened between you — it’s just that you made your crush on him so painfully obvious that you’re sure he’s trying to spare your feelings. The thought makes your heart ache, but it’s ultimately for the best. You’re not about to make a move when it’s so obvious that he’s not interested in anything serious with you.

However, the fact that you’ve been sleeping curled up with his jacket — the one that has his musky smell embedded into its very essence — has not helped matters in the slightest.

You shake your head as you glance around the dark room and wave at your friend Holly across the bar. You’re honestly an embarrassment to yourself. All your life, you’ve had an iron will that bends to your intelligence, not your emotions. Why does that have to change now, all of a sudden?

Holly makes her way around the bar, a drink in her hand and the evidence of more on her breath. You reach out a hand to steady her before she spills her drink all over herself, and she giggles uncontrollably. She’s a talented cinematographer and a dedicated weekend partier.

“Where have you been the last few days?” Holly asks dramatically, as if you’ve committed an atrocity against your friendship. “I haven’t seen you anywhere.”

“Just working on getting the sets perfect,” you shrug, trying not to give anything away. “Besides, I’ve never been one to hang around the cameras too much anyway. That’s your department.”

Holly gives you a mischievous smile and takes another sip of her drink, peering over the edge of the glass at you knowingly. “You certainly seemed to find ways to be near the cameras when a certain stuntman was on set.”

You stiffen immediately, doing your best to paint an unaffected smile on your face and failing miserably. “That’s all over, Hol. Not a thing anymore.”

Holly raises her eyebrows skeptically, and you know she sees right through you. “What a shame,” she grins. “He certainly only had eyes for you.”

That comment sends a stab of pain through your heart, but you ignore it. “It’s fine. Nothing weird, I’m just keeping my distance. Just trying to avoid a heartbreak, that’s all.” The words are technically true.

“Got it,” Holly nods conspiratorially. She takes another sip of her drink and glances around the room. “Well, he didn’t show up here tonight, so you don’t have to worry about him. You can just have fun!”

The words have barely left Holly’s mouth before her eyes widen to a comical size at something behind you. Somehow, you already know who just walked in the door, and your heart gives another spectacular lurch.

Knowing you need to get this over with, you turn to face him, your heart in your throat. Sure enough, Colt slips through the club door, glancing around the room intently, as if he’s looking for something. Or someone, you can’t help thinking.

His eyes land on you, and he freezes in his tracks. A mixture of emotions — nervousness, embarrassment, surprise — crosses his face. You know it’s going to be awkward after all that’s happened, so you try to break the ice. “Hey, fall guy,” you greet him, instantly regretting it. Too flirtatious, stop it right now.

Colt smiles, something like relief crossing his tense features. “Hey, da Vinci,” he responds over the boom of the club’s music, closing the door behind him and taking a single step in your direction. He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, and you suddenly notice that he’s not dressed for a company party.

“What brings you here?” you ask, trying to ignore the way Holly is pressing into your side and doing a horrible job of hiding her elbowing. “I thought you weren’t a fan of these company parties.”

Colt shrugs, looking past you into the crowd. “Yeah, not really. Just came to drop some stuff off with George for tomorrow’s session.” He swallows hard, as if he’s pondering something, then lets his eyes fall back on you. “What about you? I thought you didn’t like the company parties either.”

I don’t. I came to try to forget about you.

“Oh,” you say casually, “just dropping by. Holly asked me to come.” You squeeze Holly’s hand to signal her for backup, and, intoxicated as she is, she immediately jumps in to help.

“I did!” she exclaims, a little too enthusiastic. “We were actually just talking about — ah, we were just talking about…” Holly hesitates way too long, and you cringe inwardly. “Your stunt!” she recovers. “Your transfer truck stunt!”

“Your what?” Your curiosity is instantly piqued, along with your worry. “I don’t remember a transfer truck stunt in the script.”

Colt smiles a little, the first one you’ve seen since he walked in. “Gordon decided to try it out today. He thought it would spice up the car chase scene.”

Holly jumps in with gusto, clearly excited to have turned you onto a better topic. “Yeah! Gordon came up with it at the last minute. The stunt was originally supposed to just be VFX, but Colt said he could do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Colt shrugs. “Just a jump. One transfer truck to another.”

“The top of one transfer truck to another!” Holly adds for emphasis, sloshing a bit of drink over the edge of her cup. “At top speed, while the trucks are rounding a hairpin turn in the canyon!”

Your eyes widen, and you turn your shocked expression on Colt. “Tell me you’re joking,” you manage.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he amends, obviously embarrassed by Holly’s dramatic retelling. “It’s not like Gordon forced me to do anything. I volunteered and said I could do it.”

“You could have gotten killed!” You’re not sure why you feel so passionately about this; he is a stuntman, after all. But something about knowing that you’ve been avoiding him for three days while he’s been performing death-defying stunts rattles you in a way you can’t ignore. While you’re gathering fire for a rant, Holly backs away into the crowd, an impish smile on her face.

Colt’s smile comes more easily this time, and he takes another step closer to you, ducking his head to look more squarely into your eyes. “Hey, calm down,” he reassures you. “No major injuries. No brushes with death. Just a cool shot.”

You press your lips together, still bubbling over with an emotion you can’t name. “Risking your life for a cool shot isn’t something to laugh about,” you tell him, though there’s no real edge to your voice. You glance down at his hand that’s resting on the bar beside you. “What happened to your hands?” you demand.

Both Colt’s hands are wrapped in bandages that you hadn’t even noticed until he pulled them out of his pockets. His expression shifts again, this time to a kind of bemused concern. “Just a little friction burn, that’s all,” he assures you. He brings one of his hands up to rest on your right shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze that makes your stomach flip in response. “Don’t waste your worries on me, Picasso. I’m a stuntman, remember? Taking risks is what I do.”

Colt’s laid-back tone does calm you a little, and you fight the urge to shake your head at yourself again. What are you thinking? Why are you getting so emotional about this in front of him? Play it cool, explain it logically, don’t make the same mistake you did before.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit, shrugging. “It just seems like Gordon is pushing you harder than he was before. It’s like he’s getting too comfortable putting you in more and more danger for the sake of impressive shots.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Colt tells you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he cocks his head as his gaze flits over your face. “And it’s no different than you going without sleep for three days to finish a setpiece.”

“It is not the same thing,” you begin, but he shakes his head, leaning one elbow on the bar to tilt his head closer to you. You despise yourself for weakening your resolve, but you can’t resist leaning closer to him, too — so close you can feel yourself getting lost in the dark blue of his eyes.

“Sure it is,” he said softly, his husky voice carrying over the short space between you even with the loud music playing in the background. “I do stunts because it’s what I love to do, even if they’re dangerous. You make the sets look amazing because it’s your passion, even when it means you have to go without sleep. I guess we’re both just too dedicated to our crafts, huh?”

You’re finding it difficult to think of a response, your eyes locked on his. All the resolve you’ve been building for the last three days melts under the heat of his gaze. Something like a magnet is pulling you even closer to him. Your mind unhelpfully flashes back to the night you were wrapped under his arm while walking to your hotel room, his warmth enveloping you.

“Well,” you murmur, trying desperately not to look at his lips, “my dedication won’t result in a broken neck.”

Colt lifts one eyebrow in response, leaning a hairsbreadth forward. “Neither will mine,” he whispers.

You mirror his quirked eyebrow, lowering your voice to match his. “How do you know?”

Colt keeps his eyes locked on yours, but one of his hands reaches up to the side of your face unnoticed. His palms are bandaged, but he uses his fingertips to twirl a strand of your hair. Your breath catches when he tucks the strand behind your ear, his touch searing your skin even in the brief contact, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the best in the business,” he tells you as he finally pulls his hand away from your temple.

You smile at his teasing tone. The distance between you keeps closing, a quarter of an inch at a time, and you can feel the burning heat of his skin the closer you get. His eyes don’t drift from yours, but the tension is so potent that you can barely take a breath.

“The best in the business,” you repeat, a coy smile edging the corners of your lips. “Haven’t you heard that pride comes before the fall?”

“Mmm hmm,” Colt hums, and you feel the sound reverberate in your very bones. Your faces are only a few inches apart now. Everything — the music, the crowd, the flashing lights — is forgotten, consumed by the fire blazing in his eyes. His gaze finally tears off your eyes and slowly, so slowly, steals down to your lips. His own lips part slightly, as if he’s finally about to lean forward and close the tantalizing distance between you.

Suddenly you couldn’t care less about all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

But then, your heart still hammering against your ribs, your skin prickling, your lungs strangled into stillness, Colt pulls away from you.

The abrupt distance feels like a cold bucket of water on your head after the heat of what you just shared. Colt seems to feel the shock too, rubbing both hands over his face and letting out a shaky breath before his casual smirk returns.

“Wow,” he half laughs, shaking out his arms and shoulders dramatically. “Nothing like a club’s vibe to muddy the waters, right?”

His careless comment stuns you even more than his quick withdrawal did. You suddenly realize how much every moment with him means to you, and the stinging pain of rejection is amplified a thousand times by his casual attitude.

He doesn’t care. He seriously doesn’t care at all.

You try to recover some dignity, but you know you’ve already blown that more times than you can count. All you can choke out is, “Yeah,” and then a listless, “See you around,” before you slip past his shoulder and head for the door. You can already feel the hot tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, and you’re not going to embarrass yourself further by letting him see you cry. You throw up a hand at Holly as you hurry out the club door into the chilly evening air, barely registering her questioning look.

What you don’t notice is the way Colt clenches his hands into fists against the pain of his burns, or the way he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the memory of your devastated expression.

All you know is the pain of the rejection, the bitterness of your tears, and the smell of his jacket as you fall asleep that night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Part 4

[amoristt]

a/n: yaaay back with part 2 hehehe. im glad you guys r enjoying it so far! i have big plans for this series

- as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - want to support me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, Pt 2

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The hours that followed Ghost leaving you to your own were brutal. It took a few long moments to collect yourself, all tears and trembling hands, but eventually, your legs found the strength to haul your body up to your feet. Your mind replays the last couple minutes on loop tauntingly.

If Ghost hadn't caught you in time, you'd be nothing but a broken egg on the pavement below. Your brain tried to think about what it would have felt like if you had plummeted without haste, but your body reminded you angrily how it felt to hit the wall on your way down. Surely, deep bruises of purple and blue would climb like vines up the side of your frame. Your body would make sure to ache, to remind you of the damage you'd inflicted onto it.

Damaged, but alive.

It feels odd being alive, now. You really had made your choice, fully accepted the gravity of your life cut short. Perhaps it was cowardly. But, ultimately, you knew that it would have been the better outcome between death and eternal imprisonment.

Still, guilt eats away at you. The image of Ghost's eyes through his mask haunts you- that primal fear in those beautiful eyes engraved in the back of your brain. If he hadn't been as fast- if he'd hesitated for even a second, you'd have slipped right through his fingers. You'd have dropped all the way down to the unforgiving concrete and ceased to be right in front of him. It hurts you- the thought of him grieving you like that. Surely he would have hated you for it.

When night came (rather quickly), you took your chance to escape. Wherever point 'A' was, it wasn't so nearby you couldn't scurry down those five flights of stairs and dart into the darkness. You ran from bush to bush, building to building, and even through a knee-deep marsh. You were grateful that this October was warm, but you would be lying to say you appreciated the bugs. Mosquitos ate away at your skin despite your efforts to battle them away.

You'd only been a few miles away from base, so it wasn't long before you were skirting along the trees, staring at the mile-high electric fences surrounding the fort you'd become so familiar with. The base you and Ghost had been staying at was a nice one- with all the fixings and even single-person 'homes'. They were small, one-bedroom trailer-looking flats with all the basic necessities, but compared to the places you'd slept before they may have well as been your own little personal heaven. Warm water and an AC unit-they'd spoiled you and your fellow soldiers. You remember on your first night, cuddled up under the blankets on your very own bed, praying they'd keep you stationed here for the rest of your military days.

But, now, here you were, creeping along the greenery, feeling more foe than friend. From outside, you could see military vehicles parking for the night and soldiers standing guard. Sneaking up on your own base, your own friends, you really did feel like a spy. You linger outside, wondering what to do.

Then it hits you.

And you know exactly where to go.

You disappear back into the trees. It's barely another mile out, but with just the moon overheard to guide you, you struggle to find your way. You pass by trees and boulders of every size, before you enter a small clearing, and tucked all the way to the side is exactly what you were looking for. A dingy half-finished shed engulfed by the canopy of trees and shadows.

And god, there he is, standing there and waiting for you.

In this light, Ghost really does look like he could be a monster. His mask nearly glows. Half covered by murky shadows, dotted by the glowing streaks of the moon passing through the leaves overhead, he stands and waits for you. Like he knew you were coming.

And he was right. Because here you were.

You snap a twig on accident and his body visibly tenses as he searches for the source, but when his eyes find your figure in the darkness it only takes a second for him to realize it's you.

"Been a while since I've been here," you start. He moves to the side as you pass him. The door opens with a dull creak.

"I'm glad we both had the same idea." Ghost grunts.

"You're telling me. I had to ditch my phone and everything, so if you weren't here I'd have no way of contacting you. And y'know what, that's two phones in two months. Talk about bad luck." You sigh.

"Never did find you're old one, hm? Not good, soldier."

"Oh, I'm sure it's lost in the ocean or blown to bits by now."

Ghost scoffs. "Hope so. Get inside."

When you'd first been stationed at his base, boredom often ate away at you until it felt like you'd go crazy. Ghost had been off on his own mission, the few friends you did have at that time never left the base of their own volition. But you, on the other hand, craved exploration. So you found yourself wandering the perimeter around the base, thinking about nothing and everything. That's when you discovered the beat-up old shed. At that time it was nothing more than a caved-in roof, rain-soaked flooring, and a broken window. Over the course of a couple weeks, you began to work to fix it up, glad to have something to focus on during your between-missions time.

When Ghost had returned to base during Christmas, and he realized that you too had no home to return to for the holidays, he began to join you.

Over that Christmas, you both turned it into somewhere you could both go to talk and occasionally share a few drinks. That was when you'd truly bonded with him. That was when he'd finally started letting you in willingly.

Dirt flecks off the frame of the door as you step inside, and it's just as dusty as you remember. Two chairs sit in the center with patchy blankets serving as cushions. An uneven table sits between them, one leg broken half off but supported by water-logged books stacked atop each other.

The moon filters in through the cracked window and paints the brown walls a beautiful blue.

Ghost sits with a grunt, kicking his feet out and sighing. It invites you, calls you in to shut the door behind you and settle beside him. So, you do. The chair creaks underneath your weight and you breathe out the frustrations of the day, gone into the air. For the first time that day, your guard lowers.

You just... breathe.

"What a nightmare this is." You sigh.

Ghost shrugs. "No one knows what 't think. They know something's not right."

A pang of relief visibly flushes through you, cut short when he shakes his head.

"Don't get too excited." He says quietly.

"...And why's that?"

"Graves called in his shadows." Ghost taps his finger against the table, lingering, picking and choosing his next words while you feel anxiety start to bubble within you. When he speaks again, it's forlorn. "He isn't exactly pushing for 'em to bring you in alive."

The weight of your heart dropping could have burst straight through the chair you sat on. It settles into your gut like an awful stone. A dull, pained chuckle escapes you.

"I knew he didn't like me, but damn."

Ghost shakes his head. "He's panicking. Thinks you can tell us where the missiles are."

"Missiles?" You ask, eyebrows raised in concern.

It must have struck him then, that Ghost hadn't yet updated you on the situation arising off-air. And judging by the way he tenses and leans forward in his chair, it must be pretty grim.

"Hassan... He's got our missiles. Three of 'em." As Ghost speaks with newfound hesitation and urgency, you can feel your nerves lighting up with each syllable. "We can't find the damn things. They get out... 'Lot of people will die."

"Jesus Christ." You wipe your palms down your face, eyebrows knit together. "How the hell did he get our missiles?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. 'Pparently there's some messages and photos of you chatting with one of Hassan's men. That you might know a thing or two on where to find 'em."

"I haven't talked to anyone that wasn't our own." You groan. "God, what the fuck. And pictures?"

"From what I heard. They haven't shown 'em to us. Refuse to, actually." Ghost leans back in his chair, eyeing you like he's holding something back. "Like I said, no one knows what to think."

You stare down at your lap. Though you already know the answer, you find yourself asking anyways, with an uneven voice.

"...You trust me, right...?"

"God's sake." He scoffs, and you regret asking at all.

"I just have to be sure. Pictures can be convincing-"

"Pictures none of us have even laid eyes on. You think I'd be here right now if I didn't believe you?"

Guilt eats away at you, eyes downcast. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... I can't wrap my head around why of all people it had to be me."

"We'll find out. Shepherd won't give us hardly any information, and anything he does give us is... vague." Ghost is choosy with his words. "...Shepherd found and turned the evidence in himself, supposedly."

You feel an actual strike of nausea pulse through you.

"There's no way Shepherd would frame me." Though you try to say it with an even tone, your voice exposes your lack of confidence in your General. You suck in a breath when there's no reply. "Ghost..?"

Ghost doesn't answer, but his eyes do flick to yours. A silent, cautious confirmation.

You swallow. Hard.

"But... But what good could come of this? I mean up until now I've been an exemplary soldier. Like, not to brag here, but I graduated at the fucking top of my squad and I damn well aced every test they threw at me."

"I know all this." Ghost chimes. "Everyone knows all of this. I don't know what the big plan is. I don't even know if there is a big plan. I just know something isn't right."

There's a pause, and his eyes soften.

"I know you wouldn't do this."

Tears well at the waterlines of your eyes and you struggle to hold them back. With the military against you, Shadow's snapping at your heels at every chance they could get, and now faced with the chance that your own fucking general would frame you, you're completely unsure of what to do next. Ghost leans over the table and sets a firm hand on your shoulder.

You bite your tears back, refusing to let him witness you cry again. Twice in one day was just too much on your already shattered ego.

"What do I do?" Your voice betrays you, uneven and breaking.

Ghost stands up and sighs. "You aren't doing anything. You're staying here."

"For real?" You frown up at him, pawing at your eyes angrily. The sight of him preparing to leave makes your stomach churn- the thought of being alone in this shed all night slinking into your mind. "I can't just sit here and do nothing-"

"That's exactly what you're gonna do. Get some rest, tonight." Ghost doesn't even give you the chance to argue, already pulling the door open. You gape at him from your chair with wet eyes. You see the way he lingers, see the way he considers stepping back inside, but his resolve remains firm. For just a brief moment, he turns to look at you from outside.

You sit on the chair, bringing your knees up to your chest. Sounds from all directions reach your waiting ears as you take a final glance at him.

"I'll be back in the morning." He offers. The door shuts, and darkness encases you.

Shrouded in pitch black, listening to the sound of his footsteps growing further and further away, you fear tears sting your eyes once more. All alone, you let them slip down your cheeks.

You'd never felt so alone.

[munsonsreputation]

I Wish You Would

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [2.7K] I did my best to proof read

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, miscommunication, reader and eddie have been broken up, missing each other, stupid teenagers too scared to act upon their emotions, a lot of remembering, mirrored emotions, fluff at end. REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED <3

summary: when you're back in your hometown for winter break, you anticipated crossing paths with your ex-boyfriend eddie, but you just never expected it to be from seeing his headlights in your window and him seeing your bedroom lights on. there was so many things you and eddie wished you'd done differently...so now here you two were at 2am...would stop wishing and finally do it?

_

He drove through this neighborhood on a daily basis, frequently to pick up and drop off the little twerps of Hellfire that lived on this street and other times to do deals with Steve, who lived on the next street over. But Eddie used to drive down here for another reason…

The girl who he had fallen for living just a few houses down from Dustin Henderson. Her bedroom window facing the street where she’d always be on the lookout waiting for her favorite metal head to come skirting down the street and parking in the driveway before making his dramatic entrance by climbing up the roof like her real life Romeo and laying a tender kiss on her lips. 

But that was the past. The last time he had been down this side of town to see you was last summer before you headed off to college, and that was before he lost you. Now the only thing that connected Eddie and you were the roads traveled, but paths never crossed again. 

Tonight, however, was the first time in the last year that the light in your bedroom had been on. He had driven down this street countless amount of times since the two of you had broken up, but that light always stayed off because of your absence due to school. Still, he always turned his head as he passed by, just to check if you’d be there. 

Half of your body out of the widow, arm waving excitedly, shouting his name like it was the first time all over again. 

But you weren’t. 

He knew you were back home for winter break not only because Nancy and Jonathan were back in town also, but because Dustin and Lucas had told him the second they let themselves into Eddie’s trailer. The kids were always rooting for the two of you to get back together, but Eddie knew better. 

You hated him. Or at least that what he would feel if he were in your shoes. 

It was a stupid argument over the phone that caused it all. He was trying to rip the bandaid off before you had the chance to, knowing it would probably add to your stress of traveling to a new state, leaving behind your family, friends, and especially him. Eddie just didn’t want to be a burden to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to worry about him while you two were in different time zones with only a call connecting keeping you together. Maybe he could’ve gone about it differently, like talking in person instead of resorting to a five-minute phone call that ended a year's relationship. 

However, a good chunk of him couldn’t bear saying it to your face because, in reality, he didn’t want you and him to go your separate ways at all. It was the absolute last thing that he wanted. The love he had for you was out of this world and if anything, he pictured you two together against the universe, leaving Hawkins in the rearview and starting a life of your own together somewhere in the city like you guys always wanted. 

The broken cries that echoed through his receiver was the tune that replayed in his mind over and over again. You were puzzled, trying to piece together what Eddie was saying, let alone thinking. He tried telling you, explaining to you his stupid selfish reasons, but you kept sobbing the same phrases that had his heart ripped up into little pieces.

“What are you saying?”, “Do you not love me anymore?”, “I don’t understand.” 

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. It was far too late to change what happened a year ago, so he drove past your house, with his window down, trying to shake the memories that were starting to play in his head. His knuckles were stiffening against the steering wheel and he clenched his jaw, keeping his sights set ahead where he would ride off into the night alone. A part of him wishing you were in his passenger seat or him in your bedroom. 

But most of all, wishing he never made that call. 

Being back in your childhood bedroom shouldn’t have felt so strange. After all, you grew up here and created a good deal of memories within these four walls. There was something in the air this time of year that made it feel lonelier—it was too quiet and the full-sized bed felt smaller than usual. The holidays should’ve made you feel a sort of nostalgia that had you yearning to be home with your family and friends, yet you felt like a never ending pit of hopelessness.

You had tried to distract yourself from this overwhelming feeling, going through your closet to get rid of old things, but that only seemed to make you feel worse than before.

Old band tees, oversized pullovers, and club t-shirts that didn’t belong to you filled a corner of your wardrobe, the same pile which you used to find yourself grabbing from on a daily basis. Now they all just sat untouched, with the memories embedded in every fiber and thread as its rightful owner and favorite borrower lived different lives now. 

For the last three nights since you’ve been home, you’d slept in the living room, falling asleep to reruns of sitcoms until your mother would wake you, offering help to walk you up to your room. You just couldn’t handle the loneliness in there, surrounding you like some sort of punishment, but it was about time you faced reality and gave your parents their couch back. 

You laid awake on your side, watching the curtain pull in and out with the wind while the moon played peek-a-boo. At this hour, you should’ve been hopping out of bed, flinging your curtains wide open and staring down at the metal head parking in the driveway and make his way up the side of your house and clumsily into your bedroom without trying to cause a ruckus but failing miserably. 

But that was the past. There were no more comical Romeo and Juliet reenactments in the middle of the night, just you halfway across the states with your nose buried in a textbook and the memories of Eddie buried in the back of your mind. 

However, tonight, the familiar yellow glow of brightness that cascaded your room through the thin drapes passed by for the first time since your return. You knew who it was driving that beat-up van at a speed that should’ve gotten him pulled over, but never did. No matter how much time you had spent away from your hometown, you’d always recognize his lights and the way he drove. So you waited, watching to see if he’d turn in with those high beams before finally shutting them off. 

The jingle of his keys and chains hanging from his jeans while he shut the car door, cursing at himself for wearing the wrong shoes to get up the siding, and taking an overdramatic deep breath once he finally made his way up to his Juliet like the first time. 

But he didn’t. 

You imagined that you’d run into Eddie, eventually. After all, you two did share the same small town, but you didn’t expect it to be from the confines of your home without even seeing his face or hearing his voice. Maybe you had expected to see him at Steve’s annual Christmas party or maybe at the Wheelers for New Year’s Eve, but even then you wouldn’t know what to say or even how to feel. 

You didn’t hate him. You never could. 

There were so many things left unsaid between the both of you, which always led you to wonder what would’ve happened if either of you picked back up the phone that day and called one another back. But Eddie’s actions came out of nowhere, just days before you were leaving for college and you were in a complete state of shock. There were so many thoughts running through your mind once you realized what Eddie was trying to say without actually saying it.

You didn’t understand where all of this was coming from because in your mind, you and Eddie were happily in love and he was accepting of the fact that you would be away from home a couple of months out of the year. He even made proposals to take his first plane ride ever just to come spend a week or two out of the semester at your dorm and explore the city. 

Clearly, Eddie was having a challenging time over the phone, trying to piece together his words in a way that didn’t seem too harsh or sad, because this never was supposed to end like this. If anything, it was more like a suggestion to you, asking if you were going to be ok while in school and dorming. That he didn’t want to invade this new chapter in your life and that he would understand if you wanted to branch out and saw what was out there. 

“I know you’ll probably be busy—studying and making new friends are gonna take up a lot of your time. I just…I don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you back or feel like you need to miss out on opportunities for me. I—I understand if you want to end things.” 

You were a mess, utterly beside yourself as you sobbed into the phone, asking him why this was happening and if you had done something wrong for him to say something like this. This wasn’t the turn you were expecting to face right before your first day of college, and if anything he was the person you wanted to call the morning of initial instruction, to give you the encouraging words you needed to get through the day. And tonight a part of you wished he was climbing through your bedroom window and filling the empty space beside you. 

But most of all, wishing you never hung up the phone like you did.

Eddie didn’t know why he was stalling at the stop sign when he should’ve been turning right, exiting the neighborhood, and making his way back to his trailer. But his eyes were glued to his side mirror, the window to your room just a few houses behind with that annoying flickering light from your ceiling fan pushing past the cream draperies that he always wanted you to replace because they were so thin. 

He should’ve just hightailed it out of there without giving it a second thought, but he just took a deep breath, drawing a moment to shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to shake the everlasting image of that familiar bedroom window where his favorite girl would be waiting. 

It was a crooked love now—simply winding in two different directions. 

How you found yourself up out of bed and standing directly in front of the window was beyond your every thought. You don’t know why you were here, pushing aside the flimsy curtain and sticking your head out to the other side of the street where his van was stopped longer than legally required. Eddie had a thing for driving off, but not when it came to parting ways with you. Every time he had to leave your parents’ house, he’d stall at this stop sign, turning his head back with a whistle as he hollered an “I love you!” before finally driving off because the car behind him honked noisily. 

Your feet should’ve been taking you back to bed where you’d find solace under the covers and pretend none of this was even happening, but yet you lingered in place. Imagining the scenario in your head, as you shouted back out an, “I love you, too!” with one hand clasping over your butterfly swarmed heart and the other hysterically waving see you later, while you watched him drive off with his left arm flipping off the impatient car behind him. 

But the love was never broken—there was still a straight line down from here. 

When Eddie opened his eyes, fully prepared to run and hide without a second thought, his breath caught in his throat as if he was winded. His insides felt like they were tangling themselves together. And his heartbeat felt like it was echoing in his ears. The loud “thudthudthudthud” getting stronger with every second he spent gawking at your figure watching his car. 

Your legs were trembling beneath you as a bated breath left your mouth in urgency. His eyes were set on you now, and you could feel them practically boring into you, the same way you were doing it to him. The sweat began beading across your forehead and forming among the palms of your hands while the antagonizing seconds ticked by like torture. 

He wanted to turn right back around. 

His fingers convulsed violently as they maneuvered themselves over and under the wheel, turning it like it was the last thing he’d ever do while his foot pushed the gas, thinking he’d be too late. 

You wanted him to hear what you never said. 

Your fingers abandoned the drape, feet thudding vociferously against the floorboards as soon as you pulled your bedroom door open and sprinted down the stairs like he’d get away. 

Both of you wanted to remember what you were fighting for. 

He was hyperventilating, trying to stabilize his breath when he shoved the car in park, grasping that he had found his way to the acquainted driveway in a sudden blur. 

Both of you missed each other too much to be mad anymore. 

You were trying to hold back tears, with your jaw wobbling uncontrollably, hands just barely twisting the knob of the front door. 

There he was. 

The man who gave you everything. All the love you could’ve asked for and the whole world if he could give it to you. Then again, he was the same man who gave you nothing…no phone call back, no further explanation, no communication. 

There you were. 

The girl who gave him everything. Every ounce of your love and all the dreams that he never would’ve imagined for himself. But you were the same girl who gave him nothing…no phone call back, no further explanation, no communication. 

Each of you knowing how to push each other’s buttons, but that time the wrong ones. 

There was a reason why you two stood where you were right now, because at the end of the day, there was more to you and Eddie. It wasn’t about who was right or wrong anymore. There were no such things as sides in this situation because it was nothing but a losing game when the two of you were apart. This love was rushing with electricity too strong for any of you to fight and history too rich for you to forget. 

You saw his face before you heard his voice.

The head of unruly hair still bouncing from his footsteps and his chest rising up and down rapidly. He still wore the leather jacket you gifted him for his birthday. The patch of your initials in an arrow heart remained stitched across the chest. And the shiny silver ring that was a promise still adorned on his finger. 

“H-hi…”

He heard your voice for the first time in a year, staying still in the dark.

“Hey…” 

Tears swelled down your cheeks the second you two made eye contact and whimpers left your lips. You were wearing his favorite band tee, the one he had bought at his first metal concert and forever let you keep the first time you stayed overnight at his trailer. And the matching silver ring dangled down your chest with his red guitar pick strung onto the beaded chain.

Right now everything was all good…no other words needed to be spoken in this moment where the both of you just stared. Taking in the sight of one another after being deprived of stolen glances and adorning eyes for way too long. That is before you and Eddie walked into each other’s arms, holding each other with a touch and feeling that neither of you would be able to forget, as long as you lived.  

The both of you wished you could back in time to change the past, but there was no more room for blame, just promising that you and Eddie would do it differently now. 

A/N: I had this idea come to me in the middle of the night while listening to 1989…. I think this song beautifully encapsulates what it would feel like if Eddie and the reader went through something like this. There’s the painstakingly obvious idea that they should’ve communicated better before reader went off to college, but we can all admit that sometimes in the heat of the moment there are things we regret saying and regrets of things left unsaid. I wanted this little fic to focus on the idea that Eddie and reader still love and care for each other despite their time away, but neither of them had the guts to make that phone call back because they were both terrified of what was going to happen. Each of them feeling different yet similar emotions to one another until finally something just as simple as seeing his headlights through your window pane and him driving past your street and seeing your bedroom light on sets something off in the both of you. Now there’s no more wishing, just doing things the way you always wanted to.

I HOPE YOU LIKED MY INTERPRETATION OF THIS SONG AND ALL CREDITS TO TAYLOR SWIFT FOR BEING THE ABSOLUTE SONGWRITING AND MUSICAL GENIUS THAT SHE IS!!!!

[gerrystamour]

run it back (give me five whole minutes)

Rated T | Steddie Week Day 5: Together | 1700 Words | Complete

[ READ ON AO3 ]

“Maybe I can come help you?” “No, Eds, you need to sleep tonight. You and Wayne have a lot of driving to do tomorrow, don’t you?” “Yeah, just… we’re not gonna see each other for a week, and we haven’t really seen each other for a couple of days already…” “I know. I’m sorry…” If you're seeing me reposting it, no you aren't. ANYWAY this is my entry for @steddie-week Day 5: Established Relationship & Together CW: Some negative self-talk because I decided to inflict some of my RSD on Steeb.

By the time Steve left work, his entire head was full of static. There was a pounding, pulling feeling just behind his left eye and it felt like his eardrums were ready to rupture with how loud his ears rang. So much had been going on all day, and then some moron knocked over an entire shelf literally five minutes before the store closed.

Steve had been tempted to tidy it up as best as he could and leave a note, but he knew Keith would fire him if he did that. Normally, he wouldn’t really care because cleaning up the mess would normally help settle his mood before he went home to bed.

But he had plans. He had plans and now he had to cancel them to clean up a mess so he didn’t get fired.

The phone call had sucked to make, telling Eddie that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to his place after work.

“Maybe I can come help you?”

“No, Eds, you need to sleep tonight. You and Wayne have a lot of driving to do tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Yeah, just… we’re not gonna see each other for a week, and we haven’t really seen each other for a couple of days already…”

“I know. I’m sorry…”

Eddie had reassured Steve that it was okay, that he understood, that he wasn’t mad. But Steve couldn’t shake the repeating, screaming thoughts that he fucked up big time. That it was a mistake to prioritize his shitty minimum wage job over seeing his boyfriend before he left to visit the few extended family members he and Wayne still spoke to for a week.

Steve was just destined to be a shit boyfriend, apparently.

That thought had to be shut down quickly because he didn’t want to do something embarrassing like cry while he was still within the four walls of Family Video.

So he focused on righting the shelf and reorganizing the videos correctly. A few cases got damaged, so he set those aside with a note for Keith. By the time he finished, it was one in the morning.

There was a chance Eddie was still awake because if Steve knew his boyfriend, he knew the man didn’t have a healthy sleep schedule. But what good would calling him do? Steve already chose work over him, so calling now would just rub that in.

Steve locked up the store and drove home, tears welling up in his eyes and blurring his vision. He fucked up bad and he was going to have to figure out how to fix it fast. Steve kept replaying the distracted way Eddie said he loved him on the phone when they hung-up earlier, which made him think of all the times Nancy said she loved him.

Maybe if he woke up super early the next morning, he could get to Eddie’s trailer before he left, and he could apologize in person and see him? Waking up early after a shift like the one he had and working past one in the morning was a recipe for a migraine, or at least a tension headache from hell, but it would be worth it to make this up to Eddie.

Steve couldn’t lose Eddie over his stupid bullshit.

By the time Steve pulled into the driveway of his house, he was struggling to hold back the tears. He wasn’t normally a crier, just when he was exhausted, in pain, and a bit heartsick all at once. Steve couldn’t stand that about himself, especially in moments like this where it wasn’t even okay for him to be that upset. He fucked up, why was he upset?

Entering his dark, quiet house, Steve quickly locked the front door and tossed his keys at the bowl on the table near the front door before trudging loudly up the stairs without taking off his shoes. He barely cared that his keys missed the bowl entirely and clattered loudly to the floor.

Steve didn’t even notice there was already a set of keys sitting in the bowl.

He didn’t stop until he was in his bathroom, staring at his tear-streaked and miserable face. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself as he started taking off his clothes for a shower. “Worst fucking boyfriend, why does anyone even fucking bother with you?”

“Hey!”

Steve jumped, too startled even to shout, and he turned on the intruder with fists ready. He wasn’t prepared to see his boyfriend, sleep-soft and frowning at him.

“Eds?” he asked, confusion blurring with his self-loathing. Why was Eddie here? Shit, he must’ve felt so bad for Steve he came over. Once again, someone else was doing all the fucking emotional work in the relationship, and Eddie had to be up early—

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that,” Eddie said firmly, stepping into the bathroom to hold Steve’s face.

“What?” he asked, dazed now that Eddie was standing in his space and touching him.

“You were saying mean shit about my amazing boyfriend, Steve,” Eddie said, and Steve’s expression crumpled.

“Don’t—you don’t have to say that. You’re just being nice—” Steve started, but he was interrupted by Eddie scoffing.

“Sweetheart, when am I ever ‘just being nice’ to anyone?” Eddie asked and Steve couldn’t really argue that. Eddie wasn’t mean, and he wasn’t always forthcoming with talking about his feelings on matters, but he was never nice for the sake of being nice. If he was telling someone something with his words, then that meant something.

“But I didn’t leave work,” Steve said weakly, trying to find the justifications for why he was a terrible boyfriend. “You’re leaving tomorrow and I didn’t leave work to see you.”

“Stevie, that’s your job. You—did I even ask you to leave work?” Eddie asked, bewildered.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me!” Steve said with no small amount of frustration. What wasn’t Eddie understanding about this? Steve wasn’t being attentive, he wasn’t thinking three steps ahead, he wasn’t reading between the lines of Eddie’s questions and requests well enough.

“So if I asked you to leave that huge mess and lose your job, you would’ve?” Eddie asked skeptically, but something must have shown on Steve’s face because Eddie’s expression faltered. “Babe, staying behind at work was fine. I’m not so needy that you should drop everything and come running to comfort me.”

“But you were upset,” Steve insisted, taking a step back out of Eddie’s hands. “You were upset and I didn’t—”

“I was upset because you sounded so miserable on the phone! I wasn’t—fuck, Steve, I’m sorry I made you feel like I was upset with you,” Eddie said, stepping forward to cup Steve’s face again. Then he added, “Yeah, I wanted to see you before I went on the worst fucking trip ever, and yeah I was sad I wouldn’t, but I was mostly sad that you were having such a shitty day.”

“I didn’t even tell you about my day, though,” Steve said, a bit dazed.

“Didn’t have to, sweetheart,” Eddie replied with a sweet smile. “You did your Headache Brewing Sigh after every sentence,” he elaborated after a moment and Steve’s heart ached at being known so deeply.

“You should be sleeping, Eds,” Steve said weakly, stepping forward into Eddie’s embrace.

“I’m not going anymore. I didn’t wanna go in the first place, so I told Wayne I’m staying home,” Eddie replied, and his arms tightened around him when Steve tried to pull away. “Don’t, you beautiful little martyr. I didn’t want to go so I’m not going. There’s nothing more to it, don’t make it about you.”

Steve felt all the fight leave his body, resting his weight more heavily against Eddie with a shaky sigh, his head dropping to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed, baby,” Eddie cooed, petting his hair, but Steve shook his head.

“I just need to shower first,” he said, and he could feel Eddie nodding.

“Alright, let’s do that, then bed,” Eddie said brightly, stepping back carefully to start taking off his pajamas. When Steve opened his mouth to argue, Eddie held a finger to his lips with a playfully stern expression. “I’m taking care of you tonight, Stevie. It’ll be over quicker if you just let me.”

At that, Steve huffed a tired laugh and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled lightly and finished undressing.

The shower took them a long time, Eddie refusing to let Steve do any of the work to wash himself off. Eddie just grabbed each bottle Steve reached for and did everything for him. At one point, Steve let out a sigh that carried a small vocalization at the end, his body finally relaxing under the hot spray of the shower and his boyfriend’s cool hands.

Eddie took that moment to drop a soft, almost distracted kiss to the back of Steve’s shoulder and the tenderness of that tiny gesture broke through something in him. With a shaky inhale, Steve turned around and wrapped his arms around Eddie, burying his face into the junction of his boyfriend’s shoulder and neck with a sigh. There were tears in Steve’s eyes again, but this time they weren’t sad.

When Eddie immediately wrapped his own arms around him, Steve kissed the skin his mouth was closest to before tipping his head back to meet Eddie’s eyes.

“I love you,” Steve confessed so quietly that the shower almost drowned him out.

Eddie heard it though, or read his lips, and his big brown eyes widened a bit. Then a grin split his face and he dropped a kiss onto Steve’s mouth. “I love you, too,” Eddie said without pulling away and Steve pressed closer to deepen the kiss again.

Standing under the steady spray of the shower, they kissed each other slow and sweet, searching even if they knew their ways around each other’s mouths. It was different now that they’d said the word they had both been thinking since the day they first kissed.

Finally, the temperature of the water began to waver and they pulled away from the kiss.

“Holy shit, so there is an end to the Harrington water heater,” Eddie marveled as they quickly finished up and turned the water off.

Once they were tucked into bed, Steve reached across the space between them to pull Eddie into his arms tightly. Eddie laughed as he settled, wrapping himself around Steve and sighing happily.

“I love you,” Steve said again, yawning.

Eddie turned his head where it rested and kissed Steve’s chest. “Love you, too, Stevie.”

[AO3 LINK]

[ NEXT FIC ]

I hope you enjoy and please consider reblogging! Taglist! @steddie-there, @patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @steve-harringtits, @mylilplanet, @afewproblems, @xenon-demon, @inairbinad, @matchingbatbites

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 하이에나/Hyena.

Okay, I'm assuming I just convinced a lot of you by that poster alone. But just in case, here's a trailer along the same lines!

Hyena is a 2020 Korean drama about two lawyers who get into a relationship under false pretenses, end the relationship, and then still have to deal with one another in their professional lives, while also uncovering massive corruption in the halls of jurisprudence.

This is absolutely one of those shows where, if this is the kind of thing you like, this is a strong example of that kind of thing. You know the beats it's going to hit and the turns it's going to twist, so you're just here to watch the rest unfold. It's not really a courtroom drama; while there are court scenes, they're few and far-between. Most of it is about their lives outside of court: preparing for cases, negotiating power dynamics, and working for some shady-ass rich people alongside a cast of delightful supporting characters.

It's no great work of art, but it's a lot of fun, and it's surprisingly more complicated than it appears at first blush. It's also not a huge commitment, as shows go -- just your standard Korean block of sixteen hour-long episodes -- so here's a shortish set of five reasons I think you should give this a trial (get it? trial?) run.

1. Just fuck that pretty boy up

This show knows that women want one thing, and one thing only: Ju Jihoon in mild to moderate distress.

I love this tall drink of water in everything I've seen him in (just wait until the day I finish my rec for Kingdom!), and this is no exception. I imagine that the entire pitch for this show was, what if we put Ju Jihoon in sharp, well-tailored suits and have him menaced by a bunch of beautiful professional women 10-25 years older than he is? And the Netflix executives, in a startling moment of common sense, greenlit the heck out of that.

His character, Yoon Heejae, is a hotshot lawyer from a family of hotshot lawyers and judges who works for a hotshot law firm. He embodies that certain kind of cocky, toxic masculinity that makes you idly fantasize about getting his tie caught in the shredder so it strangles him. Over the course of the show, you get to see him taken down a peg time and again until he learns to be submissive to the right people, instead of to the wrong ones. And he's much, much happier that way! So yeah, if you enjoy seeing a beautiful man get that smug smile metaphorically and literally slapped right off his handsome mug, Hyena has you covered.

I had to replay the champagne scene like ten times, fuck. No, I'm not going to tell you what I mean by that. Watch the show!

2. The titular Hyena

The major disappointment I had with this show is that it did not bring up the one -- one! -- thing everybody knows about hyenas, which is that a lot of people think the females have penises. Because oh boy, Jung Geumja has the biggest dick in the show by a mile.

A lot of times when people say a female character is a disaster, they mean, tee hee, she spilled her coffee and accidentally said something she shouldn't have! Bitch, Jung Geumja said that shit on purpose.

She's an attorney who's willing to adopt some hella unethical tactics for her clients. She's got her goals, but good luck getting her to reveal what they are -- and good luck to her when it comes to achieving them, considering that she's a complete nobody who went to law school much later in life than all the other high-powered attorneys in the show did. That's okay, though! What she lacks in experience, she makes up for in balls-to-the-wall fearlessness.

I love how intentionally bad her aesthetic is. They give her awkward outfits and the worst possible haircut, to say nothing of her hideous cell phone necklace/lanyard/thing. She adopts a more professional demeanor partway through, but the second you let her off the respectability leash, the track suits and big clunky sneakers are back. The couple times she goes real femme, she looks like she's in bad drag. It's ugly-delicious.

Her actor, Kim Hyesoo, is a beautiful woman who looks very good in evening gowns and low-cut blouses. This show intentionally steers her hard in the other direction. It's a kind of protective coloration, Jung Geumja's way of telling all the other predators not to fuck with her, or she will fuck right back.

She's scrappy as hell, despite not actually being a physical fighter -- in fact, she gets the shit beat out of her a couple times. You don't get a whole lot of media where the female lead gets her face kicked in good and proper, or if you do, it's painted as a tragic, vulnerable moment. Jung Geumja slaps on a bandaid and gets right back out to the club the following night.

Her superpower is basically that she has no shame. You think ambulance-chasers are bad? She takes it to the next level.

You really don't see a lot of female characters like this! Sure, you get the Boss Bitch archetype in a lot of legal dramas, but she's always composed and dignified. Jung Geumja has no dignity. She's a sloppy bitch who makes pretty much no effort to leverage her feminine wiles in her day-to-day life (even though the show makes a point that there are men who'd be receptive to it if she did!). She's a nasty top who clearly loves to horrify dignified, presentable people with her yakuza lounge aesthetic.

You could maybe accuse Jung Geumja of being a Mary Sue, but she's, like, a middle-aged woman's Mary Sue. If your teen girl fantasies are all about how you're the most beautiful girl at prom and all the boys like you and you become independently wealthy at your dream job as an interior designer, then your middle-aged fantasies have become how you can look super-hot wearing whatever the fuck you want and still get respected by your colleagues for your extreme competency in your profession and also have handsome men with good jobs beating down your door no matter how much your hair looks like you scalped Paul McCartney c. 1964.

She's absolutely one of those characters where I'd hate her if I had to deal with her myself, but because she's fictional and can't hurt me, I support all her wrongs.

3. Everybody else!

As is the case with good legal dramas, the main lawyers are not the only lawyers! Instead, Hyena has a wonderful cast of supporting characters who become part of the legal eagle team.

They’re exactly the kind of charismatic background weirdos I’ve come to expect from Korean dramas. You’ve got the whole batch: the potential love rival, the secondary romance couple, the supportive nonthreatening bestie, the workplace misfits who are both extemely competent and completely underappreciated at their jobs, and the childhood-friend-turned-cop I couldn't find good promo pictures of for reasons prrrrrobably related to the actor's DUI arrest.

No matter how enjoyable a main romance is (and it is! see point 5!), it cannot sustain a whole sixteen-hour drama on its own. You need to mix it up and give your primary pair other party members to bounce off of! Hyena pulls together a good group of characters that are wacky enough to be entertaining, but (mostly) not so wacky you have to suspend your disbelief about how they got to where they are in life.

And they’ve also all got some interesting relationships to masculinity and/or femininity, which is pretty par for the course with how the show clearly enjoys…

4. Getting gender all up in your business

While it's not an overt, in-your-face theme, the status of women in Korean society is definitely at play in this story. The realm of law, politics, and buisness as depicted here is absolutely a man's world, where few women are allowed, and only in a very limited number of roles. Of course there are always wives/girlfriends and secretaries doing all the helper grunt work, but a token handful of ladies can be allowed into actual ranks of power ... sort of. They'll always be second best to their male peers and relatives, of course, but doesn't that gender diversity look nice in the company's annual report!

As mentioned earlier, Yoon Heejae starts out as a good ol' boy from a long line of good ol' boys, dick-measuring with the rest of them and shooting straight for the top. It's only when he's blindsided by soft power that he starts to re-evaluate what he's gotten himself into. Maybe being a good son is actually a racket! Maybe these squads of tie-wearing ass-kissers aren't actually that fun to be around at all! Maybe he's actually much better-suited to playing on the girls' team.

Meanwhile, Jung Geumja's "ruffian from the wrong side of the tracks" role is such a man's role, but she's definitely a woman inhabiting it. Hell, half the stuff she gets away with, she does because everyone's just so shocked to encounter a woman doing and saying these things. So she does weaponize gender expectations - just not in the way you might expect a woman in a romance-centered drama to.

In the aforementioned support squad, the male attorneys are all gender failures in one way or another, which is why they haven't advanced in their jobs the way their colleagues have. They cannot perform hard-drinking, ethics-ignoring, 90-hour-workweek masculinity to the standards of the high-powered suits who run their law firm. It's only Jung Geumja who, given the choice to assemble her own crew, can see that they have immense value beyond the very gendered expectations of their profession.

Meanwhile, Boon Hyunah, the only female attorney on their team, is great at both representing and subverting that Exceptional Woman femininity. I was cautious at first, because she was clearly introduced in a way that made her seem like she was going to wind up being the evil popular girl/rival bitch whose entire job was to prove by contrast that Jung Geumja is Not Like The Other Girls. Not so! They actually wind up good friends and trusted colleagues. Female solidarity is so much more fun than contrived romcom catfighting!

Maybe my favorite character in the whole show, though, is the littlest gender-nonconforming angel, professional soft butch Lee Jieun: Jung Geumja's eternally beleaguered secretary, sidekick, gofer, co-conspirator, caretaker, and only friend.

She's clearly taken her haircut notes from Jung Geumja, but instead of going the track suit route, she's dedicated herself to the tweed lifestyle. And I love that nobody ever tries to give her a makeover or make her feel bad for not being femme! She makes friends with the other, much girlier secretaries, who seem to welcome her into their group with no problems. She finishes the show as frumpy as she was when she started.

I was prepped for the drama to give her a male love interest to defuse her obvious lesbian vibes, but it does not! She does not even, to my recollection, express desire about anyone. She oohs and ahhs over flowers and other gestures of romantic interest that happen to other people, but not in a particularly jealous way. She ships Yoon Heejae and Jung Geumja, and that's what matters to her.

The entire reason I found this show in the first place is that it has a "sismance" tag on MyDramaList, presumably for the relationship between Jung Geumja and Lee Jieun. Their relationship is wonderful, but it's way more sis than 'mance. They're more like two sisters with a huge age gap, where the dweeby younger sister has dedicated herself to doing anything her cool older sister wants her to do, and the cool older sister has decided that having a minion is worth putting up with having to wrangle a dweeby younger sister.

This show is also very female-gazey. Not only does it gleefully ogle Yoon Heejae's long-legged frame pretty much every chance it gets, but it makes Jung Geumja gross-hot in a way that only a lesbian could love. And that makes the fact that she has not one but two handsome men fighting over her even better! This is a world where our gorgeous male lead has a choice between a conventionally attractive, professionally dressed, charming, dignified woman in her early twenties, and a fifty-year-old human tornado with a foul mouth and a bad haircut, and he goes straight for that cougar without even blinking. He wants her to step on him so hard.

And speaking of:

5. Law, Partners

This is a romance worth being into.

Sure, they're both real hot (at least, by my bisexual lesbian standards), but we all know by now that being hot separately doesn't always guarantee being hot together. Fortunately for this show, they very much are.

What makes this pairing so interesting is that this is a relationship between equals. They start out with huge power mismatches both ways, since he's socially her superior, while she's lying to him real hard. When they're finally at a point where they're on even footing, it's so good, especially since she's clearly on a trajectory to emerge as the senior partner in this relationship. They’re such a great team, in fact, that the kissy part of their dynamic becomes secondary by the end. Yeah, sure, they like one another -- but more importantly, they can finish one another’s closing arguments. When you're a middle-aged Mary Sue, that right there is some good fucking romance.

If you read my other rec posts, you know I'm very picky about my het. This is good het. Maybe not great het, but still very good. Solid 8/10. Their chemistry is strong. I can absolutely imagine her strap-on collection. He's like a foot taller, but we still know who's going down.

Into it?

Netflix made this one, so Netflix is where you're going to find it. This does mean, annoyingly, that a lot of the onscreen text doesn't get translated, and none of the English lines get captioned, both of which are incredibly bad practices. Come on, Netflix, you've got eleventy bajillion dollars, you can do better.

...Also, am I wrong about people knowing that other people think female hyenas have penises? Is this knowledge what I deserve for spending too much time studying the ancient world? Dammit.

Kick his ass, baby; I'll hold your track suit.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Dee Vasquez

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

“Turnabout Samurai” was always a case I skipped on my replays, because when I originally played the game I found it to be a tedious filler case loaded with bland characters and little plot progression. On my most recent playthrough, though, I realized how wrong I was; while the case is overly long and does require some obnoxious backtracking, it’s honestly an extremely fun and funny case that really helps develop Miles Edgeworth and flesh him out as a character, which kind of makes me baffled at my initial perception of the case as pointless filler. This is no “Turnabout Big Top,” that’s for sure, and that’s all the more apparent when we uncover who the true killer is.

Dee Vasquez marks a true turning point in the killers I the franchise. Frank Sahwit and Redd White are certainly not out of place in the series, but they are both one-dimensional goofballs. Not Dee; she’s an incredibly three-dimensional villain with motivations that go beyond simple greed and an actual sympathetic motivation for her crime.

Motivation/Goals: Dee Vasquez is actually rather interesting in that her motivation for murder has one of the first twists in the series: She had no motive. The murder was an accidental one in self-defense, as the victim Jack Hammer had come to her with the intent to kill her. When he did so, she shoved him off the steps and impaled him on a fence—something Hammer himself had accidentally done to another actor five years prior.

It’s pretty interesting to think that there wouldn’t be another killing in self-defense until Spirit of Justice, and even then there’s a big twist to that too—but that’s a story for another time.

Breakdown: Fitting her terse and stoic personality, Vasquez actually has one of the single most understated breakdowns in the whole series, followed by her sadly and graciously accepting her defeat:

That really is it, and honestly, it's all she needs. Someone with her demeanor losing her composure for even a moment like that is pretty impressive.

Best Scene: Vasquez actually gets one of the most unique scenes in the franchise, as at the end of the third day of investigating she lures Maya and Phoenix into her trailer, where she proceeds to call upon her mafia goons in an attempt to “erase” them.

It’s pretty notable because the mafia goons actually get art here, and this is also the only time Vasquez’s mob connections are really brought up in any capacity as they aren’t mentioned during the trials, only getting briefly mentioned in discussions while investigating. It’s doubly notable because it gives Gumshoe one of his first “Big Damn Heroes” moments when he bursts in and saves our dynamic duo’s lives.

Final Thoughts & Score: Dee Vasquez is a really solid villain, and her case is where the series really grew the proverbial beard.

I think what’s most fascinating about her is how you only get some vague hinting at the relationships that surround the crime she committed, and the true nature of her relationship with Hammer is based entirely on hearsay from biased parties—can you trust what she says in regards to Hammer, considering she was blackmailing him and clearly had a great disdain for him for killing her possible lover? Can you trust Oldbag’s account of it being a tragic accident when she’s a Hammer superfan? It all makes her the sort of character where you can come up with multiple interpretations of her and have different levels of sympathy depending on how you view her actions. Like sure, it was in self-defense, but it becomes a lot less sympathetic if you see Hammer more as a victim of manipulation for something that wasn’t really his fault (although his willingness to frame his co-star Will Power out of petty jealousy certainly doesn’t make him look very good).

Helping this is just how grounded and low-key she is. She doesn’t really get wild, over-the-top reactions like some of the other killers, and while that may seem like a detriment in a series as silly as this, it actually makes her stand out a lot more especially with how later villains would become even more wild and wacky. It also helps build her up as a genuinely formidable opponent in court, and she’s actually a pretty tough egg to crack when you get her on the stand.

While I’m not going to pretend like she’s the greatest, most complex, or most tragic of all the villains (how can she be when characters like Ini Miney, Geiru Toneido, or Acro are around?) but for a first attempt at a more complex villain that isn’t just killing for the money, she’s a really solid one. A nice solid 7.5/10, I’d say. I think really her biggest problem is that the case immediately following hers features perhaps the single most sympathetic murderer in the original trilogy, as well as another stoic hardass villain who has a far more glorious breakdown, which leaves her being a bit overshadowed. Still, for what she is, she's a remarkably solid villain.

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hey mara, what are your top 5 anime? and top 5 VNs?

hey, anonymous;

this isn:t really ordered in any hierarchy and i:ll probably go over five for anime, but these are series i really enjoy, mean a lot to me, and like to rewatch:

boogiepop phantom, boogiepop and others, baccano (really anything by that author i:ll probably love but baccano is my favorite), .hack//sign, .hack//dusk (this one is kinda awful but it means a lot to me), really anything .hack//, the saki series; love akagi (anything by fkmt but the first few episodes of akagi has a great vibe); a big part of me wants to say akiba maid war and akudama drive (the emotional highs for both are so good, & both have some of the best final episodes out of everything listed); a small part of me wants to say stuff like: naruto, dragon ball, hunter x hunter, nabari, majin neuro, trigun -- they:re not series that immediately jumps out as me as "all time favorites" but in the right mood i /love/ thinking about them (i:d always used to daydream about being in the naruto setting and my perfect naruto MMO where you:d be born in the world to a random village -- i wanted to be mist or sound); may-be at the lowest i:d put FLCL, i love FLCL but it:s lke .hack//dusk where it was just time+place; kind of want to say madlax too, honestly, but it:s such a slow show it:d be a struggle to rewatch it (the beetrain phenomenon of making glacial-paced shows carried entirely by scenes of two characters talking), but it:s great

VNs i don:t think i:ve played enough to really have much of a list, but tsui no sora remake / subahibi would be on it; everything team_cpu made would be on it (mostly archangel:nemesis but all of her works seem connected to me, & even despite whatever friction is/was between us she:ll always be a top-tier writer and artist to me that inspires me); i really love 2236 AD but (i always describe it this way) it:s an extremely mid game, with an insanely good opening, /but/ as an entire experience it is perfect, and it is perfect because it is extremely mid (if it were better, and better written, it wouldn:t have as much of an impact at the end -- it has one of the best ending sequences in anything i:ve ever read; here watch the trailer); maybe true remembrance (just a fun sleepy read, enjoyed my time with it); maybe soundless (kinda trauma-porn which i don:t love, but the author did such a good job with the setting that i just enjoyed my entire time spent with it); maybe walk in the sun (a vncup entry! i:ve replayed it ~4 times and it:s just an extremely solid short read that i loved); i haven:t played it in awhile but i remember loving sengoku rance, and i love the alicesoft:s settings (toushin toshi is amazing imo & all the lore in rance is just so much fun); love the narcissu series too (especially 2 & the neet-hiki one) but i try to stay away from reading sad stuff lately;

that:s all that comes to mind; ok thank you anonymous take care.

[kittyball23]

Branch Has Feelings (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: As Poppy helps Bridget out with with her wedding outfits, Branch explores his old home, and experiences some emotions…

A/N: I tried giving Trailer 2 a chance to release, but I mean, we’re already about to get into August and there’s still nothing out online… But, like I’m sure a number of us have, I saw it on leak back around the 21st of July, therefore, my oneshots continue :3

Already as I’m sure you know from the new info and stuff that has been released in the past month, some of my theories have already been debunked – the fact that Spruce is married, the fact that Velvet and Veneer do not seem to be Bergens (unless they are a different kind of Bergens), the usage of ‘I Want You Back’ by NSYNC, the fact that the argument seemed to happen because of ONE wrong thing that occurred versus a culmination of stuff over time.

Note that I will not make changes to what I’ve already written, but I may rewrite some stuff as separate oneshots. I feel that making changes to what I’ve already written would kinda mess up the point of this collection of stories, which is, that they are supposed to be predictions and wild guesses before seeing the movie :)

__________________________________________

“We are family!

Get up everybody and sing!”

Troll voices from all six of the musical tribes rose up, loud and strong, mixing in with Bergen voices who were also singing along and causing a lovely melody to fill the air all around Bergen Town. How could anyone not be in a good mood? This was a time to celebrate – it was King Gristle and Bridget’s wedding day! Needless to say, there was much to do, from decorations to food to the seating arrangements and such. But it was not a matter to be worried over. There were more than enough helping hands to go around, and with music to help them groove along, the job was getting done pretty quickly and entertainingly. Attendees of the wedding were dressed down in their fanciest formal attire – tuxes, and gowns, and ribbons, and bows, and glitter were as far as the eye could see! There wasn’t one single individual who was not impressively adorned – at least this is how Queen Poppy of Pop Village saw it.

Poppy herself was looking quite nice that day as well, sporting a lovely green-and-pink glittered dress that had a fluffy, cotton train that ran from the skirt down. Extensions of various colors had been placed in her hair, and she’d even had a light layer of glittery makeup around her eyes. She knew she looked decent, but what made her feel exceptionally pretty was how much Branch had liked it. The way he’d told her she was beautiful, so cute and flustered, was replaying over and over in her head. She of course had immediately told him how handsome he looked, with his iridescent-fishscaled vest and glittery-green shorts. She wished she was looking at him now again, having her pink hand in his larger, warm teal one, but for the time being, the two of them had parted, seeing to different sections of the wedding prep and ensuring that it was coming along. Poppy’s glowbug had helped her fly along towards the castle, where she knew her dear friend Bridget was getting ready. Satin and Chenille were there, too, along with Smidge and Legsly. But all five girls were met with an unexpected sight inside the dressing room.

Rather than a song filling the air here, there was a wail, and that wail was coming from the bride herself!

“Oh my gah!” Smidge squeaked, her hands over her mouth as Bridget sat there, slumped at the vanity in her slip and crying, some of the makeup she had been attempting to apply running down her cheeks in dark streaks.

Poppy sprinted up to the Bergen. “Oh no, Bridget! What’s wrong?”

The twins gasped. “King Gristle didn’t cancel on you – “ Satin started asking.

“- Did he?” Chenille finished.

“Aw, no, that would be awful!” Legsly said, tugging at her orange pigtails in concern.

“You can just leave it to me to talk some sense into him,” Smidge said darkly, her voice deep, a frown on her eyebrows, and her hands busy at cracking her knuckles.

“No,” Bridget sniffled, trying to calm down some. “I… it’s just… I don’t know what to wear!” she blurted out. “This is the most important day of me and Grizzy’s life and… I just want to him to think I look nice!”

Poppy and the girls exchanged a glance of pity among one another. To anyone else it probably wouldn’t seem like a big deal, but in truth it was. They knew just how stressful a wedding could be, as they’d helped out plenty of times before for weddings in Pop Village. To add onto the matter, Poppy knew her friend was probably having doubts with the way she used to be the castle’s scullery maid for such a long time, ignored, with Gristle having been nearly oblivious to her existence. It was obvious to her and the other Trolls that Gristle would not go back to that, but still, her friend probably needed that extra reassurance.

Poppy made her up the vanity and patted Bridget on the arm. “Bridget, King Gristle loves you and thinks you’re beautiful no matter what. He really, really wants to marry you, because you make him happy!”

Bridget looked down at Poppy, like an epiphany had hit her. “I guess I do make him happy, don’t I?” she asked in a soft voice, then blushed.

“Uh, yeah! Totally!” Poppy said. “So even if you go out there with your maiden outfit, he’s still gonna marry you, because he loves you for you!”

The words were getting through to Bridget, and she smiled. Poppy really did know just what to say sometimes!

The twins, however, were having different sentiments. They exchanged a glance with one another and then piped up.

“Uh Poppy, she’s, um, not going to go out there with that outfit though, right?” Satin asked while her sister Chenille peered up worriedly.

“No way!” Bridget and Poppy exclaimed at the same time, and then laughed at the image that it put in their heads.

The twins breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness! It would have been a certain fashion disaster. They turned their attention to the plain, white wedding dress that was laid out on the bed.

“Hmmm,” they both hummed at the same time, mirroring each other with their hands on their chins and sharing the same squinted look at the apparel. “How far can we take this?”

Bridget perked up. “Oh, however far you want! Please! I want everything – ribbons, bows, frills, lace – whatever you wanna do!” She clasped her hands excitedly.

Satin and Chenille liked that answer. They pumped their fists in the air. “All right! Then let’s do this!”

With the help of the four Trolls, Bridget was transformed into a gorgeous diva. The dress was adorned with various colorful bows at the skirt, and was very frilly at the train. Bridget looked at herself in the mirror and gushed, absolutely loving it so far. “Oh, it’s great! But… maybe it needs more.” She paused and thought for a second, and then snapped her fingers. “Ooo! How about flowers!”

The twins gave her a thumbs up. “Flowers – we’re on it!” Soon enough, Bridget’s dress had been modified to include a gorgeous array of colorful flowers, just as vibrant as the bows were, that were stitched onto the blouse portion of the dress.

“Wow!” Legsly said, stretching herself up on her legs to get a better look all around Bridget. “That’s so cool!”

“I know!” Bridget squealed. “Oh! But how about we add little rainbows and glitter and stuff? Oh oh! And can you make my hair bigger?”

Once again, Satin and Chenille hopped in to help. “You got it, girl!” they said, giving her a thumbs up.

Bridget was once more changed, and this time, she looked super extra glamourous!

Well, maybe a little TOO extra glamorous…

Her hair had indeed been puffed up huge with extensions galore – it looked almost big enough to live inside of! Her makeup had been done heavily, with dark, navy-blue eyeshadow, a brilliant scarlet-red lipstick, and deep pink blush coating her cheeks. Her dress indeed had the rainbow designs she wanted – on top of the bows and flowers that were already there. It all was shiny-fied with a layer of glitter, making everything about her glimmer like diamonds. And that was not mentioning the large, hoop earrings that had little gem-like crystals hanging from the ends.

“Oh my gah!” Smidge said again, and this time she recoiled a little.

Bridget gave a little shout of fright when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, also. “AH! Oops… too much, huh?”

Poppy grimaced a little. “Err… maybe juuust a tad,” she admitted. “But you guys keep working on that, alright? You’ll figure something out, and it’s gonna be fabulous!” The Pop Queen gave her friend a reassuring thumbs up and then began to mount on the glowbug that she’d used to ride over to the castle. “I’ll come back in a little bit, I’m gonna just check on a few things in the town!”

“Okay, Poppy!” all five of the girls called back to her.

Poppy shook her head fondly, chuckling as she was brought back to the main town square. Bridget was so excited – so she could only imagine what it would be like to know that you were going to be united with your one true love, to be bound for life in a union that was stronger than the glitter glue that was sold at Sky Toronto’s Fun Factory! Secretly, Poppy hoped to have that experience someday, with the one Troll that had her heart captive, though she wouldn’t admit to him just yet. She knew that said Troll was still probably getting used to the whole idea of even being in a relationship, let alone with the Queen of Pop.

Hmmm… where IS he? she suddenly thought. Poppy flew her bug over to where she saw Prince D and Cooper helping out on the banquet table for the grand feast that was to take place right after the wedding. She grinned, watching the brothers pal around and groove with each other, and, not for the first time, wishing that she, too, had a sibling that she could sing with.

“Hi, Cooper! Hi, D!” she greeted cheerily, waving her hand.

“Hey, Poppy!” Prince D said. “How’s it goin’?”

“Totally amazing!” Poppy replied with a giggle. “Have you guys seen Branch?”

“No, I haven’t,” Prince D said. He then nudged Cooper. “Have you, bro?”

“Uh-huh!” Cooper nodded, helpfully gesturing his long neck over to where the altar was set. “I think I saw him head over for the Troll Tree!”

“Oh!” Poppy said, wondering what her boyfriend was up to. “Well, okay! Thanks!” She gave Cooper a high-five, and Cooper gave his signature goofball laugh as he watched the Pop Queen head off.

“Any time, Poppy!” he called.

__________________________________________

As it turned out, Branch was in fact at the Troll Tree.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d gone up exploring the Pop Trolls’ old home. Many pods were, surprisingly, still as intact as they had been before King Peppy had evacuated the town. He could see the old schoolpod, and the large one that was the one for the royal family. Which made him wonder…

Branch scaled the tree, guiding his glowbug to the right places to go, around certain familiar bends, mushrooms, and vines that were there, until he finally reached the spot, stopping short and gaping. There it was. Still in the same spot that it had always been, as timeless as ever.

His old pod.

Well, it had been his grandmother’s old pod, but it had been his home all the same.

The nostalgia hit him hard as soon as he’d dismounted the bug and set foot inside. Not much had changed, really at all. It was the same old carpet, the same old decorations, the same old walls and halls. He remembered how his grandmother would sing to him and play games out there in their living room, and how they’d both snack on delicious treats of all kinds in the dining area. He remembered his grandmother letting him help out in the kitchen making cookies, and when she’d tuck him into bed at night, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead and always reminding him that he was loved. He remembered being thankful for it, having needed that reminder to keep him planted in reality. But most of all, he remembered something else…

His eyes darted to the gramophone at the farther end of the pod, and he remembered how much his grandmother would love to play music on there. He could remember how she would dance with him, letting him stand atop her feet while she toddled them about, the two of them enjoying themselves thoroughly and laughing. They’d had plenty of music to dance with and plenty of records to show for. Though, of that collection, there had been a significant amount of them had not been played. Those particular records caused too much pain for the two of them, yet, it would have been even more painful to simply discard them, and make pretend that they didn’t exist. That’s why they were always right there, tucked behind the gramophone, where it was an arms distance away, but never dared to be played out loud.

On automatic, Branch felt himself move toward the gramophone. He swallowed hard when he did in fact see records still there, tucked neatly behind it. He itched to reach for them, to see the cover of the albums he had so wanted to forget existed. But he wasn’t so sure.

Get a hold of yourself, Branch scolded himself. You got used to the other song, didn’t you?

That ‘other song,’ as he called it in his head, was in fact Total Eclipse of the Heart, the song he’d so gladly belted out when he was a young boy, singing into his flower microphone…

… Providing the soundtrack to his grandmother’s death.

Branch shook his head. True to how that voice in his head had reminded him, he indeed had learned to accustom himself to the song once again. He wouldn’t willingly go out of his way to play it, but he wouldn’t find himself tearing up and feeling lightheaded after hearing it, either. He had learned to keep those emotions in check. Could he keep these in line, too?

Before he could help himself, he tugged the albums out from behind the gramophone. They were a little dusty, but not too bad to where he couldn’t tell what was on it. Because he most certainly could. They were four faces he still had yet to see again, after over twenty years and still counting. The faces of John Dory, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd. Also known as the hit boyband BroZone.

Also known as his brothers.

Branch felt angry at himself for already starting to feel a pang in his chest. This wasn’t even an actual photo of them! The album covers were just little felt, scrapbook-like figures that looked a little silly in their appearance, each brother identifiable by their bright-colored hair – JD a brilliant turquoise, Spruce a rich purple, Clay a bright yellow, and Floyd a serene magenta. Then there was himself – pictured with his crop of blue hair right there with the rest of them, side by side, together.

If only it had been that way in real life…

Branch frowned. What was the use in dwelling on alternative scenarios? He wouldn’t call himself as much of a pessimist as he was in his gray days, but there were still some bits of mottos and self-advice that he’d acquired then that he still used to that day. One of those was the fact that sometimes, bad things happened, and nothing could be done to change them. His poor grandmother, for example. She had been taken by Bergens, suffering a horrible fate. He couldn’t do anything about it now. There was no time machine to take him back to that moment and fix what had occurred. Just like there wasn’t one to help take him back to that other awful day, one that had happened a few years beforehand, and fix the mistake that had happened…

Branch glared at one of the album covers. A few silly songs were not going to get the better of him. He tugged the record out of the case and placed it on the gramophone, adjusting the needle so that it lay on top of it. The gramophone was old, but worked without so much as a hitch, and, slowly, a tune began to warble its way out of it, a little low at first, but then louder, clear enough so he could hear the song that was playing and clear enough so he could pick out just who was singing what part. Branch felt himself freeze when he recognized what song it was, and inwardly groaned. Of all songs, it had to be this one. The one that they’d done right before everything got decimated. He wanted to tear the record out of the gramophone right there and then, but it was too late. He was being taken back to that memory, still feeling so fresh on his mind even after so long…

__________________________________________

There was a packed house that night.

The five boys could hear the loud whoops and cheers from the Trolls that had gathered there to see the show, impatiently hooting and hollering with uncontained joy. They knew it was so much fun to perform, but they also knew how critical it was to get their performance as perfect as possible. That was, if they wanted to win the award.

It was going to be difficult, but John Dory, the leader of their pack, welcomed it. Finally, a chance to share the stage with the greats – like the Sugar Gals and the Chillin' JillyNs, who had already gone on and performed before them – and outshine them! There had been not one single doubt in John Dory's mind that BroZone was the most band-tastic musical group out there. What more, if they'd managed to pull this off, they'd be the youngest talent to ever have won. John Dory was starry-eyed, already imagining just how many pictures he and his brothers would take with the wonderful trophy. He had already cleared a space in their room on the wall, and also made room on one of their shelves for where the trophy would be placed.

He quickly polished down his goggles and then snapped them on his head carefully, checking in the mirror to make sure that they looked extra fly. His other brothers were also getting ready for their performance – Spruce was sprucin' up with a little bit of hair gel and spray, Clay was warming up with a plié of sorts, and Floyd was clipping on the one pearl earring he liked to wear.

John Dory took a deep breath and clapped his hands together once to garner their attention.

"All right, listen up!" he said. "I don't think you really need me to tell ya how important this night is, but, heh, I still kinda am going to." Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and he placed his hands on his hips in a way that made him look very determined. "We are going to make boy band history tonight..." His voice was deep and serious, and the others could get the gist of how critical everything was. Everything had to be flawless, and, luckily, it all was practiced to perfection, so Spruce, Clay, and Floyd didn't really feel so concerned.

Still, though, there was one bro who wasn't feeling up to that particular level of confidence. John Dory didn't notice, but Floyd did, and he wanted to say something about it.

"Bro," he said, approaching JD's side. "You're making Baby Branch nervous."

John Dory peered over to where Floyd was gesturing at. Their youngest brother of the bunch was a few paces outside of the dressing room, standing near the curtain where just beyond it was the large mushroom stage on which they would be performing on that night in just a few short moments. Branch shuffled from side to side on his small blue feet, and had his eyebrows creased with slight worry.

JD dismissed the matter. “Ah, it’s just the usual pre-performance jitters. He’ll get over it!”

“I don’t know, JD…” Floyd said.

“Want me to go talk to him?”

The magenta Troll glanced at his eldest brother. John Dory meant well, yes, but Floyd noticed that sometimes he could be a little oblivious to how his words affected someone. A pep talk that was good for some teens who’ve already put on several shows before might not be so good for a small baby who’d just barely gotten his singing voice. But Floyd didn’t want to go through the trouble of trying to explain this to JD at that moment. “Maybe I’d better go talk to him,” he said.

JD looked slightly confused for a second, before recovering. “Huh? Well, alright, but make it snappy, ‘kay?”

Floyd gave him a quick thumbs up and then walked over to where their youngest brother still stood, perhaps looking even a smidge more nervous than he had a second or two ago. Floyd felt pity for him. Baby Branch was the smallest one of their group, but he looked even smaller now, with how fearful he was being.

“Hey, bro,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

Branch didn’t turn around just yet. His eyes were still fixed on the curtain. “No,” he responded, his voice small, meek, and of course, babyish in its nature. “I feel like I’m gonna barf.” He turned around to look at Floyd, pressing his little hands together.

“Branch, it’s just another show,” Floyd said, keeping his tone light. “It’s just like our rehearsals.”

“But there’s so many people…” Branch worried. He stole another glance from behind the curtain, and whimpered a little.

“Yeah, there is,” Floyd agreed, “but that’s because they wanna see just how great you are on stage. You, and me, and all our brothers.”

Branch’s eyes lit up some. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Floyd responded, glad to see that his little brother was showing signs of feeling better.

“B-but… what if I mess up?” Branch asked, worry still pricking at him. “They’re gonna be mad…” The blue Trolling peeked over to where John Dory, Spruce, and Clay were at in the dressing room.

“They might be a little disappointed if we don’t win,” Floyd admitted. He knew he would probably feel slightly disappointed, too. “But, hey, remember our motto?”

Branch scrunched his small face as he tried to remember. “A prankster never reveals his tricks?”

“No, I think you’re thinking about Clay’s motto,” Floyd chuckled. “I’m talking about the BroZone motto, the one John Dory came up with?”

Branch thought again and then seemed to get it. “Bros before shows?” he asked, tentatively.

Floyd nodded. “Exactly! And you do know what that means, right?”

Branch squinched up his nose. “I think…”

Floyd kneeled down, and placed a hand on Branch’s shoulder. “It means that being brothers is always gonna be more important than any performance that we do. Okay?”

“Well… okay!” Branch replied chirpily, and then snuggled into Floyd when the magenta-haired Trolling scooped the baby in for a warm hug. Branch was still a little skeptical about their band’s motto. He constantly heard John Dory remind them any time before they performed that that show was “very important.” Oh well, he could get clarification later. At that moment, Floyd had released him and was taking his hand in his.

“Come on, now,” he said, “let’s go back to the others.”

Branch let himself be guided along back into the dressing room, where, sure enough, John Dory huddled the whole team together for one final bout of pep-talking.

“We’re gonna be entering this as band-tastic boys, but we’re gonna be leaving it as bro-dacious superstars!”

The boys cheered, excited and eager, exchanging rounds of high-fives, fist-bumps, and even a playful smack in the rear (specifically John Dory on Baby Branch).

If only the positive attitude had remained with them for the rest of that night.

Because what was once seeming to be a dream come true on that stage rapidly turned into a Nightmare on Elm Tree. With the fall. And then the vines. And then the humiliation. And then the argument…

If they had been puffalo, they would have certainly careened their way back inside the safety of their pod with their tails between their legs. But they were not puffalo, they were Trollings, who all had a variation of negative emotions radiating from them.

Spruce’s cheeks burned red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He stormed into the center of the pod and whirled on his brothers. “My rock-hard abs and I quit!” he growled, making a show of tearing his purple vest from his body and ripping it clean in two.

Clay was quick to second that. “I quit too!” he said, despising the way that folks had laughed at him, and not with him.

Floyd was about to speak up, hoping to turn the heat down, but John Dory didn’t want to bother even hearing what he had to say. In less than a minute, they were already two brothers down in their band. He didn’t see a point – Floyd was probably just going to say that he quit, too! He stormed over to the entrance of the pod. “This bro bro’s goin’ solo… YOLO!” JD called over his shoulder, still trying to bust a rhyme even as he headed off, glaring at his brothers and then departing.

Branch stood on wobbly little legs beside Floyd, barely registering his older brother’s presence, his head in a whirl. He felt tears pooling in his large blue eyes, and a whimper in his throat.

“I ruined everything…”

In his eyes, he really did. If he had just practiced more, if he had just been as great as John Dory, and Spruce, and Clay, and Floyd had wanted him to be, then this wouldn’t have happened. Then he wouldn’t have been standing there, watching his family fall apart before his very eyes, watching the band break up, watching their dream be crushed.

This is all my fault. MINE.

I’m the one to blame. Nobody but me.

I ruined our band. I ruined our family.

I wasn’t good enough.

They hate me.

This is MY fault…

__________________________________________

“Branch?”

The Troll gasped, and he jumped right into action as soon as he’d heard the voice of his girlfriend pipe up from behind him. His fingers flew to the gramophone, and quickly removed the needle from the record. Then he turned around, plastering a large, toothy grin on his face in hopes of remaining inconspicuous.

Poppy was standing tentatively at the doorway of the room, a little uncertain, and some concern shining in her fuchsia eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re crying and smiling at the same time. It kinda looks like it hurts.”

“It does kinda hurt,” Branch admitted, feeling up his face with his hands. Then he sighed, letting the smile drop and hurriedly wiping away the remainder of the tears that had streaked his face.

Poppy approached him. “Branch? Please tell me what’s the matter…”

Branch rubbed his arm. “It’s nothing, really… it’s just that this place brings back a lot of memories, that’s all,” he said, trying not to let his voice waver.

Poppy nodded in understanding. “This was your grandmother’s pod, wasn’t it?” she asked, though she knew the answer already. A small portrait of Grandma Rosiepuff was on one of the walls near the door, and the types of antiques and such that were leftover in the pod also gave her a clue.

“Yes, actually,” Branch said. “This was where I grew up.” He gestured around the space and felt another lump grow in his throat thinking about his beloved grandparent. “I miss her.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know you do,” Poppy cooed, taking it as her cue to bestow a much-needed hug onto him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. Branch returned the hug, extremely grateful for the comfort.

After a moment, Branch allowed himself to speak again. “Grandma and I did lots of stuff here. We loved to sing and listen to music together before, um…” He trailed off, and Poppy already knew what it was that he was getting at, though she did not force him to have to say it out loud.

Instead, the Pop Queen’s gaze drifted to the gramophone, and the albums next to it. She raised an eyebrow curiously. “Can I take a look?” she asked, gently releasing their embrace and peering up at him with question in her eyes.

Branch felt himself go stiff. NO! he wanted to blurt. But he knew his hard refusal over something so trivial would meet Poppy with confusion, and then have her raise suspicion. She’ll wonder what I’m hiding, he thought. He’d managed to keep his secret under wraps for this long, much to his surprise, and he did not want her to put two and two together and figure it out. But if I show her the album, maybe she WILL figure it out! Branch argued with himself. His blue face was plastered on the cover of the album just as prominent as his other brothers. But then again, I was a baby back then, he reasoned. I mean, I’ve grown up since then. I don’t look THAT much the same now than I did back then… do I?

Branch didn’t want to keep going on this back-and-forth, so he found himself slowly nodding to Poppy in reply. Poppy smiled and went right for the albums, carefully picking them up. Her reaction was just as he’d pictured it. Confusion, and then pleasant surprise.

“BroZone?!” she exclaimed. “Oh my gosh… and they’re original records!” Poppy ran her hand over the cover, her fingers grazing over the felted cover and the little figures of the boys that were featured. Poppy gushed some more. “Wow! I can’t believe it! I mean, I had no idea your Grandma was a fan!”

“Yeah… um… I guess they had universal appeal,” Branch said, very carefully choosing his words.

Poppy sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Her pupils dilated, and there was a sudden lovestruck quality to her gaze, one that made Branch feel a twang of jealousy. “They’re my favorite band!” she blurted.

“Oh… really?” Branch asked, maintaining his voice to a calm level.

“Yeah!” Poppy said. “Oh, can I please play one song? Please?”

“Err…” Branch swallowed. He’d just tried to listen to ‘one song,’ believing that after so long of being apart from his disbanded family, it wouldn’t have much of an effect on him. But he’d been wrong – very wrong. Heck, he hadn’t even remembered when he’d started crying!

Poppy saw his hesitance, and quickly added, “I don’t have to, it’s okay, you know…” She was saying the words, but Branch could tell she wasn’t fully ready to take on that option. At least not with the way her fingers twitched excitedly on the record, more than ready to place it in to be played. He didn’t want to disappoint his girlfriend… or have her ask any questions out of suspicion.

“No, no, it’s all right! G-go ahead,” Branch said, coughing afterwards to not have her pay any mind to his brief stutter.

Poppy didn’t pay mind. She squealed happily, bouncing twice on the spot, and then placing the record in. The opening notes to “The Right Stuff” began to play, making her bop her head up and down.

“First time was a great time Second time was a blast Third time I fell in love Now I hope it lasts I can see it in your walk Tell 'em when you talk See it in everything you do Even in your thoughts

You got the right stuff, baby Love the way you turn me on You got the right stuff, baby You're the reason why I sing this song!”

Poppy giggled as she sang along, removing the record when the song was done and looking at Branch. “Ahhh, I just love this song! It’s my favorite! How about you? What’s your favorite song of theirs?”

“Well, you see, um, I don’t actually have a favorite song,” Branch said, in a way telling the truth. He hated hearing the songs now, as they only brought him bad memories.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean! I mean, how can you pick a favorite when they’re all so awesome!” Poppy exclaimed, unaware of his thoughts. Then she paused. “No wait, scratch that, not awesome, but uh, what’s that other word they used… oh! Oh wait, I remember! Bro-dacious!” She snapped her fingers, happy to have recollected correctly. “Yeah! The leader of the band used to say it all the time. Oh, he was sooo cute!”

John Dory! Cute?! Branch frowned. He could think up an hour-long speech with over hundreds of reasons for how NOT ‘cute’ that airhead of a brother of his was, starting with the fact that he abandoned him. But what Poppy said next distracted him.

“Oh who am I kidding – they were all cute! Especially the baby, he was my favorite!”

Branch blinked. “The baby?” he echoed.

“Uh-huh!” Poppy said. “I can’t tell you how many times I wished I coulda pinched his cute little fat cheeks – like this!” She squealed and demonstrated by pinching Branch’s blue cheek between her pink fingers. Now that he had to chuckle at. Boy, if only she knew the irony, Branch thought.

“Oh, but Branch,” she said, suddenly reeling herself back, “None of them are cuter, or sweeter, or more handsome than you are.” She blushed, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I made you think so… I kinda go a little bonkers about BroZone.” Poppy let out a flustered little laugh and looked down at the ground, like a child that had been caught swiping from the cookie jar.

Branch suppressed the sigh that wanted to escape him. He felt bad for feeling jealous before. It wasn’t her fault. Poppy didn’t know. Poppy wouldn’t ever come to know. She was just like much of their fans when the band was in their prime, fangirling and overly ecstatic at the mere mention of BroZone’s name. And part of him really did wish he could tell her. He didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from his girlfriend, the one Troll who loved him and understood him so well. She wouldn’t keep secrets from him. And, she would also understand about his past if he explained it, wouldn’t she? But then again, at the same time it would open the floodgates for a whole bunch of other questions. She would never look at him the same way again, that’s for sure. She wouldn’t see ‘Branch,’ she would see ‘Bitty B,’ the small, diaper-clad youngest performer of BroZone. Not only that, but she would want to know every single little miniscule detail about his brothers. She’d wanna know their whereabouts and how she could get a chance to meet them and get their autographs. Those were things he didn’t have answers to, and even if he did, he most certainly wouldn’t want to tell her so that he’ll have to deal with them again. Was telling her worth it? Was what he’d envisioned happening afterwards something that he really wanted?

No.

Branch had to go with his default answer this time around, despite, deep down, his gut feeling telling him otherwise.

What does it matter! Branch argued with himself. There’s plenty of time to tell her. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen to require the explanation to be given. If there was, he figured, it would have happened by now. If his brothers really and truly cared, if they felt remorse in any way for the wrong that had happened, matters should’ve been resolved by now. Long resolved. If they wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, then he’d do the same – he would go on with the illusion that he had no siblings to speak of. A family didn’t abandon one another, so in a way, it was sort of true. He had no brothers.

Branch’s decision settled, he approached Poppy and gently took her hands. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I still love you, Poppifer,” he cooed, using her fun little nickname that he’d invented even before they’d officially sealed their relationship.

Poppy’s blush of embarrassment turned to one of bashfulness, and a sweet little giggle escaped her at once again hearing that this wonderful Troll loved her. She was still swooning when she heard Branch suddenly gasp, looking down at the watch in his Hug Time bracelet.

“Poppy! We’re gonna be late for the royal wedding!” he cried, grabbing her arm in haste. “Let’s go get married!”

The Pop Queen gasped. “Branch!”

Branch glanced at her in confusion, seeing the shocked look she now wore. “What?” Then it had hit him what he’d said. “OH! I – I mean, let’s get Bridget and Gristle married,” he corrected himself, chuckling awkwardly.

Poppy looked relieved. “Oh, okay! Because that would be weird if we got married.”

Branch quickly agreed. “Yes, very weird. Yeah.”

They awkwardly looked away as they continued to bounce agreement off one another, Branch finalizing the point with a seemingly disgusted “bleh” which Poppy copied. By then, the awkwardness had lifted some, and they were ready to make their way over. But Branch still had a lingering thought in mind.

Would it really be that weird if they got married? They had already reached the status of being boyfriend-and-girlfriend, so, logically, if things went well in their relationship, marriage would be the next step. And Branch couldn’t foresee anything going wrong in their relationship. Sure, they’d had a little tiff back when they had only been best friends, after he’d pointed out that she hadn’t been listening very well and that in turn was making her not be as great of a queen as she’d wanted to be. But even that was resolved fairly easily enough, and their relationship only continued to blossom from there.

Does Poppy really think it’s weird, though? Branch wasn’t sure, but right now, he didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding out. This day was not about him and Poppy – it was about their friends, Bridget and Gristle and their marriage. One day, perhaps, it could be about him and Poppy. And boy did he look forward to that day. By that point though, if they were lucky enough to reach that cherished husband-and-wife status, Branch knew that one thing was for certain, and that one thing was making his stomach churn with foreboding, making him think back to the albums that were in his grandmother’s old pod, the way Poppy had glanced at the Trollings on the cover and then at Branch and having not made the correlation.

There CAN’T be any secrets between us.

__________________________________________

A/N: I had to write this after seeing the way the new trailer started 😭 Bridget's wedding outfits scene was an idea used from the leaked pages of The Art of Trolls Band Together. Song used is "The Right Stuff" by New Kids on the Block

Oh yeah, and I had to include the "let's go get married" bit again, because it is one of my favorite things ^_^

[luigiblood]

GoldenEye 007 & The Future of Nintendo Switch Online

I wanna talk a little bit about the rerelease of GoldenEye 007, the little context and also something I noticed during my research.

GoldenEye 007 has finally got rereleased on January 27th 2023 on both the Nintendo Switch Online service, Xbox Game Pass and as a digital Rare Replay update.

See more after the break.

Emulation quality

Both the Switch and Xbox versions are confirmed emulated and not based at all from the leaked XBLA version, which I'm probably certain will never see a release ever, possibly due to the rights holders which are... very messy if I rely on the copyright info: FIVE. Nintendo, Rare Studio (Microsoft), Danjaq LLC, MGM and Sony Music Publishing.

Welcome to rights hell.

The emulation of it is... kinda complicated because it is mostly fine, like it is playable for certain, if you play it I think it is sort of reasonable. Both versions have 16:9 support (which by the way, was part of the original version on N64) and are 30 FPS with some framerate dips.

The Xbox version has tons of hacks to just change the controls, copyright info, and upscaling (up to 4K!) which honestly, is the imperfect part, with the slight but very visible texture warping and seams, which while Code Mystics claims it is technically accurate to the N64, and I do actually believe them about that, I don't know if we can really talk about accuracy the moment you just upscale the graphics way beyond what the original console could do.

Personally this problem would definitely bother me a lot, but from what I can see the Xbox version is still emulating fine.

The Switch Online version has not many hacks, they do exist, but not really a lot, the graphics emulation is slightly worse than Xbox with mostly too much fog than intended, repeated textures that shouldn't repeat as much, but it makes up for not having the texture warping issue in the slightest, only having less visible seams at times, as it is also upscaled in HD.

Just to talk about the specifics of the Switch version as I datamined it: The base ROM is different, and was modified to remove the face textures for Sean Connery, Roger Moore and Timothy Dalton. This is actually kinda the first time they hacked a base ROM like this before, especially only for parts that are fully unused, they really wanted to make sure it's not there.

I also noticed tons of texture replacements that seem to be related to explosions, maybe muzzle flashes as well.

The major thing that people will talk about are the controls, which by result of the Nintendo Switch Online service being more about playing the original games as is, which I do respect personally, in fact let me say this: the default control scheme is dated but it's fine to play, but there's one thing that I really dislike: The stick sensitivity is way too high. I think this makes it almost unplayable in certain aspects, because current sticks are definitely not like the N64 sticks which I think are way more precise due to their inner workings and form factor, it does not adapt 1:1 to newer sticks.

So when you just wanna use the aiming mode in Goldeneye, it's way harder to aim properly than on an N64 controller. It's doable, but it's harder.

The online, exclusive to Switch due to the N64 emulator already supporting it, I couldn't try it but after seeing footage it is very sad that it still can't handle online with players from two different regions when on PC it is not as much of a problem.

If you ask me which version is emulated better, I'd say Xbox at first glance, but both versions are totally playable, good enough but imperfect. Code Mystics' work for their N64 emulator is I think respectable, and iQue's work on the N64 emulator for Switch is also much better than we originally anticipated with the trailers and other official footage.

And yes I mentioned iQue and not NERD because their official involvement with Nintendo 64 NSO seems to be purely on the UI integration, possibly a bit more, but the major developer is iQue.

A lot of the disappointment I noticed are on the fact that 360 XBLA port is not used in any way, and it is certainly a bummer when that version showed promise.

N64 Switch Online Issues

But I also do hear a lot of complaints about the controls, but I think it's more of a quality of life debate, I think it's playable except for the stick sensitivity on Switch. But everyone does point out the need for a way to remap controls. Instead we just use the Switch OS controller remap feature in an attempt to fit our needs, which, personally, is only a bandaid and is not a real fix.

Personally one of the most annoying thing is the fact that B and A are horizontal instead of vertical just like the original N64 controller.

WHY IS THIS NOT A FEATURE YET?

I also hate how the ZL is always Z, and the L button is always L, when most games' L button equivalent is Z since we put our left hand on the stick part.

iQue and NERD really needs to implement control remapping, PER GAME, or possibly ways to register presets per game or something, it getting urgent.

...what's the deal Japan? (Theory)

Now, if you're in Japan, you might have noticed GoldenEye 007 hasn't rereleased on Switch there yet...

Nintendo's website says that the game would be released in other regions on the 27th, as planned, but the game would be out in Japan only later in 2023, while mentioning the game's rating: CERO: Z.

This is kind of important, because this is the highest rating. Japan have strict laws about this, and you can't let kids access this game easily.

Aside from the very weird rating, this means a lot, this means Nintendo has to do something about Parental Controls about this game, there's two ways they could deal with this:

Either they just make a 18+ N64 NSO app with the game, rated 18+ instead of Teen or 16+ like in other regions.

Or they do add some parental controls check inside the app, preventing access in a dynamic way per account.

The thing is, I've seen how the application manages the game library user interface: it's very flexible in what it can show/hide, just see how it manages European games or the case of region locking, applied in Korea to hide Magical Drop2 (SNES) and F-Zero X (N64).

For me, this seems like the kind of thing that could have been implemented easily in a few months? Though I'm speaking as someone who hasn't been in a big company managing these things in some way.

The funniest part is still how the apps can access the Parental Controls OS service the entire time.

So my theory is the following: I expect a sort of refresh of the NSO retro apps in the near future, downgrading the NSO retro app age rating to a minimum, instead putting every single age rating info for each game individually, trusting the parental controls to provide information to the app to hide games that shouldn't be played by the user.

I can see the possible logic of implementing this fully for every possible age rating from Nintendo, because while you're at it, you could just as well manage it for the entire library of games, which, currently, is almost 200 different titles in total.

And this, I can see this taking time to do, because you'd need info from every single rating boards in every region, which all games have been assumed 16+/Teen just because the app is that way. I can see some logistics required and could potentially take months to make sure everything is all right.

Now I don't know if they could see this as an opportunity to refresh the UI in a way, possibly even adding new features (like custom controls, please), and maybe this is the reason why Game Boy Color NSO hasn't launched yet, I could see this as a reason to just have feature parity everywhere as a saner base.

I don't know if I'm being reasonable on my theory, but I feel like it'd make sense? We'll see how it goes, really.

[mysimsloveaffair]

Fallout - Official Trailer | Prime Video

First, Fallout is in my top five all-time favorite video game franchises (and I’ve played tons, so that’s saying a lot). I was nervous when this live-action trailer was first announced, but now that I see it, I’m not mad at all. They captured the games’ feel enough to make me want to pull out my old Fallout games and replay them (not Fallout 76, though🤢)! 

[beauzos]

originally i didn't really like the Side Order dlc much, and while i think it's way too light on story, it kinda actually fuckin slaps gameplay-wise. it is so fun to replay the spire. when i heard in the trailer that it was intended to be replayed multiple times i was like "yeah i'm not doing that lol" but it's actually fun beating it with new weapons. i've done it five times. it's a lot of fun.

i appreciate that you still get some story piecemeal with each pass through, but my point still stands about the story though.

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 2

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The second time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — in which he thinks he might be losing his sanity.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer

Author’s Note: As the Colt obsession rages on, I hope y'all enjoy part 2, because it certainly was sizzling when I wrote it :D This one is more from Colt's POV, and it includes some of his inner monologue (which I loved in the film). I appreciate everyone's kind words so far and would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter! Thank you all! <3

Part 1

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Ever since the little paint-smudging incident, Colt has been, well… off.

This never happens to him. He’s a professional, he’s been working on movie sets for years, he’s known hundreds and hundreds of coworkers. But something is different. You’re different.

As he leans against the hood of his truck after filming, one leg propped on the fender as he takes a deep breath of the midnight air, Colt can’t stop replaying the events of the day before. You painting a prop sign, you laughing at his dumb jokes, you smearing red paint across his face. The steadiness of your hands, the smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. The sunbeams luminescent in your hair. The way your hand felt for the few seconds it lingered on his cheek.

Get it together, man, his inner monologue scolds him.

Colt can’t deny that he has feelings for you. You’ve been on set together for about two months now, and he sees you practically every day. Every time he performs a stunt, you’re always there adjusting the furniture, dabbing color onto the walls, rearranging props with that magnificent touch that brings every setpiece to life. Colt is amazed by your talent in your job as a set decorator, and your skill pushes him to try harder stunts each time, to try to impress you with his own skills.

But there’s one major problem that he can’t get past — he’s just not good enough for you. Sure, Colt has all the confidence in the world when it comes to throwing himself from a moving car or flashing a dazzling smile at you across the set, but he’s destined to be an unknown stuntman for the rest of his career. Your talent and dedication promises great things for your future, and Colt has already made up his mind that he’s not going to stand in your way by coming on too strong.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Even when he’s trying to be noble and keep himself from getting you distracted from your career, he’s replaying the way your eyes fluttered shut for a moment when his thumb brushed your jaw.

I’m so screwed.

Colt has just agreed with his inner monologue that he will keep his distance from you and turn all his unfulfilled feelings into protein powder when you step out of a nearby trailer, one arm over your eyes as if you’ve been crying.

All thoughts of noble detachments shatter instantly, and Colt pushes off his truck to make his way toward you. He’s relieved when you lower your arm from your face and he can tell that you weren’t crying — just so dead tired that you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Hey, Van Gogh,” he calls to you, keeping a distance of about six feet as he reverts to his usual habit of artist-nicknames. Too familiar, too familiar, abort, abort. “Too much moonshine?”

Your eyes pop open in surprise to see him standing there, but a wearied smile crosses your face nonetheless. “Too much moonlighting,” you correct him, leaning back against the art trailer with a sigh. “Gordon has been on my back all day about the props for the train station scene. I got wooden benches for a rustic vibe, but he wants metal for a grittier vibe. I painted the graffiti mural in multi-colors, but he wants it red for a sharper contrast. I spent the last week distressing the station floor so it would look lived-in, but now he wants it clean. Clean, cold, and clinical.” You bury your face in your hands, rubbing your red-rimmed eyes. “I just finished making twenty neon signs for the depot, but I don’t know if he’ll even still want them by tomorrow.”

Colt’s heart tugs seeing you so exhausted and discouraged, and he elects to ignore his previous inner monologue and take a few steps in your direction. “Sounds like Gordon is trying to direct a hospital soap opera instead of an action thriller.”

“Exactly!” You throw your hands up in frustration, letting your head loll to the side as you look at him through half-opened eyes. “I never want to see another paint roller again. Or at least not until tomorrow.”

Colt chuckles at that, taking another step closer. “It is tomorrow. It’s past midnight.” His brow furrows in concern as he watches your eyelids drift closed again. You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet.

“Right. I knew that,” you mumble. “I need some sleep.”

“I’d say you need a hibernation,” Colt says gently, cursing himself for the way he feels the urge to reach out and touch you. “When’s the last time you got any winks?”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you try to recall. “Uhhh… Tuesday?”

Colt shakes his head. “Come on, I’ll drive you back.”

Your eyes open at that, and you automatically shake your head, swaying a little as you do so. “No, you don’t need to do that! I’ll be fine. My hotel is just a few blocks from here.”

“Good,” Colt agrees, reaching out to put his arm around your shoulders. “Then you won’t have to pay me back for gas money.”

You sigh in mock frustration but give in when he starts leading you to his truck. He can feel you leaning on him, drawing from his strength when he knows yours is depleted. Colt has to force himself to focus on the task at hand and not get distracted by the intoxicating smell of oil paints and charcoal and wood chips emanating off your skin. He especially tries not to notice the way your head naturally falls against his shoulder while he leads you to the passenger door.

Once you’ve climbed into the seat, you immediately droop forward and rest your forehead on your knees. On an impulse, Colt pulls off his jacket — his most comfortable one: the brown one with the drawstrings — and drapes it across your shoulders. He suppresses a grin when you mumble something that sounds like “hmmk hmum” but probably was supposed to be “thank you.”

The drive to your hotel lasts all of three minutes, and he parks his truck under the portico so you’ll be closer to the door. Against the pitch black of the midnight sky, the hotel looks cozy and welcoming, street lamps bathing the sidewalk in a halo of golden light.

Colt opens the door to the passenger side, a smile crossing his lips when you turn your head from where it’s resting on your knees to peek up at him.

“Are we there yet?” you mumble, eyes fluttering between open and closed.

“Just a rest stop,” he informs you jokingly, holding out a hand to help you out of the truck. You gladly accept it, so exhausted that you can barely stand up straight. Colt feels another shimmer of worry at seeing you so worn out.

With his arm around your shoulder again, Colt walks you to the hotel door, which opens automatically to let you in. His thoughts are a jumble of worry, consternation, and elation at this situation, but he breaks out of his reverie halfway to the elevator, when you start giggling uncontrollably.

“What?” he asks, basking in the way your musical laugh wraps around him like a melody. Colt, get it together. Stop romanticizing this.

You snicker again, pressing the elevator button to your floor. “I bet the desk clerk thought I was drunk and bringing you home with me.”

Colt goes stock-still at that comment, only moving again when the elevator door opens and you enter the compartment together. Your sleep-deprived brain is so addled that you barely even register the implications of your remark, but Colt’s mind instantly starts racing with his own thoughts. Be professional, don’t make a saucy joke, just play it cool, play it cool, change the subject, change the SUBJECT—

“You should call Gordon,” he suggests, so enthralled with the feel of your head resting on his shoulder that he can barely get the sentence out. “Tell him you can’t make it tomorrow. You seriously need to get some sleep.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, one that flutters across his collarbone like an autumn breeze. He swallows and turns his head the other way, using all his willpower not to completely come undone right in front of you. You have no idea the effect you’re having on him, so sleep-deprived that you’re missing any cues that would clue you in normally.

“I have to be there tomorrow,” you insist drowsily. The elevator door dings open, and Colt leads you through the opening, his arm still tight around your shoulders as you point him in the right direction. “We’re filming the train station scene, and it has to be perfect.”

“What, at the cost of your health and sanity?” Colt quips, though he can’t deny that there’s a note of seriousness in his tone.

You shake your head stubbornly. “I’m fine. This is my job. I just have to do it.” You yawn widely, stumbling a little as you get closer to your hotel door. “I just need a few hours and I’ll be good as new.”

Colt lifts his eyebrows skeptically but doesn’t argue with you. You’re pulling your room key out of your pocket, and he’s suddenly torn between the desire to run before he violates his vow of noble detachment, and the need to confess every passionate feeling coursing through his veins right now. He knows this isn’t the right time, though, and that there may never be a right time at all.

You unlock your door with a swipe but pause before going inside, leaning your back against the doorframe so you can look at Colt squarely. “Thank you for bringing me back.” Your smile steals his breath, makes him imagine a halo of stars around your face. “I couldn’t have made it without you.”

Every muscle in his body is urging him to lean forward, to close the distance between you, to capture your lips against his so he can whisper every unconfessed feeling, every gentle passion, every overwhelming longing in this silent, dimly-lit hallway. His heart is pounding so loudly in his ears that he thinks you must be able to hear it.

“Anytime,” Colt manages, his throat so tight that can barely rasp out the word. He has to clench his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to you.

You reach up to shed his brown jacket and hand it back to him, but Colt stops you by holding up his hand. “Keep it,” he tells you. Shut up, shut up, shut UP— “It looks better on you anyway.”

The golden light from the street lamps outside must be playing tricks on his eyes, because he could swear that your eyes brighten at his words. Your fingers tighten around his jacket, and all he can imagine is your fingers entwined with his, your head on his shoulder again. The way it should be.

Your eyes flicker closed for a moment, and you sway against the doorway. Colt instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hand landing on your arm and holding you up for the moment it takes you to regain your balance. His skin feels like it’s on fire from this close proximity. He releases your arm so he doesn’t lose his sanity, but the touch lingers on his palm, making his heart race and his mouth go dry. His eyes flit down to glance at your lips again before he can stop them. Another moment, and he won’t have any self-control left.

You seem to feel the tension, too, lingering in the doorway when you should have said goodnight by now. He knows you’re struggling with it, and he knows it’s his responsibility as the clear-headed one to end this before it starts. His breath is rattling in his throat as he says, “Get some rest. Let me know if you need a ride over tomorrow morning.”

His voice seems to break the spell over you, and you give him a sleepy smile as you nod. “Thanks, Colt.” Your eyes linger on him for a moment more, and then you disappear behind the heavy hotel door.

Once you’re gone, Colt turns and leans heavily against the hallway wall, suddenly feeling breathless and exhausted from the intensity of what he just felt. He can’t believe he even let himself think about kissing you when you’re so dazed, but surely he wasn’t misreading those signals? Surely he felt the heat of your own gaze meeting his?

Colt sighs, trying to clear his head while he catches his breath. He can’t even entertain the idea of starting a fling with you, because his feelings have gone way too deep for a fling. He just needs to keep his distance and stop overanalyzing every moment he shares with you. He needs to get a grip on reality so he doesn’t completely ruin your friendship and burden you with any guilt. This has to stop. I’m going to stop right now, and I’m not going to think about it anymore, and I’m going to get hold of myself before it’s too late.

He hopes his inner monologue is right this time, because he knows he’s only falling harder for you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 3

[zayalive]

A Long Time

it has been a while since i've updated my blog. from where i left off, i still had to complete the red dead redemption ii story as well as finish that 100% grind. since then i have not only done both of those, but i have gotten all the achievements for red dead online as well. i honestly enjoyed most of the online experience besides the hackers. it took a grand total of 263 hours to get all the achievements in the game. it was definitely a grind, but i haven't experienced a 100% that wasn't a grind at least somewhat.

after red dead redemption ii, i wanted to check out max payne, as i've heard so many good things about the series. remedy seems to make quality games, and i'm a big rockstar games fan (duh) so i thought it would be a perfect fit for me. i started max payne, and so far i'm liking it. the face models and death sounds are really funny to me though, but i look past it. so far i've enjoyed the narrative, and aesthetics the game offers. i am hoping to finish my playthrough in the near future. i will say i'm either bad or the game is pretty difficult.

beyond this, i had set out to finish up getting all of the grand theft auto iv achievements. as of writing, i have just gotten them all. every time i go back to the base game, it's such a treat. easily one of my favorite games ever.

these shots are from my time finishing up the ballad of gay tony achievements but i just love how orange this game can be.

my ultimate goal for gaming in 2024 is to play/replay all the rockstar games titles in preparation for grand theft auto vi. i cannot express how excited i am for this game. just a day or so ago, jason schreier reported that rockstar are forcing employees to go back to the office for five days a week as they are entering the final stages of the game's production. my heart goes out to the developers on this one, but i can't help but be a little giddy. it's been such a long road (hehe) to this game, and we're finally almost there. trailer 1 felt so surreal to me, everything looked amazing. my favorite parts were the ped density, the motel scene, and then the store robbery scene that ended the trailer.

that just about sums up my gaming adventures over the course of the month i've been absent, it's been fun!

[deathofawish]

Death of a Wish - Q&A

We announced Death of a Wish with a teaser trailer on June 1st, and it is now open for wishlisting on Steam and itch.io. There are a number of questions that we would like to address for new and returning players interested in the game.

[This blog is cross-posted from our newly opened newsletter - be sure to give it a follow if you’d like to receive email updates about the game!]

What is Death of a Wish?

Death of a Wish is a linear action-RPG structured like a musical album. The game is divided into levels called “Tracks”. In each track, players explore hostile worlds while fighting numerous enemies using varied combinations of melee and ranged attacks, encountering story events, set-pieces, and bosses along the way. Players can develop their character by mixing up numerous weapon types, passive modifiers, and items to form a truly individualized style.

Death of a Wish marks the return of the “Corruption” mechanic. This is a meter that rises whenever the player dies or takes damage. When Corruption maxes out, something will happen that will affect the rest of the playthrough. Corruption can be reduced by getting high ranks in combat encounters by fighting gracefully. Death of a Wish is developed by melessthanthree, the creative moniker of Colin Horgan, an independent game designer who explores themes of Catholic guilt, queerness, and religious trauma. They have built out a large range of experimental and personal games primarily on itch.io, ranging from autobiographical text adventures to fringe horror experiences. Joining them on Death of a Wish are a range of collaborators whose work includes contributions to games like Butterfly Soup, Manifold Garden, and Digimon Survive.

How long will the game be?

We expect that the full game should take 5-7 hours to complete. Death of a Wish is designed to be highly replayable though; there will be a wide range of challenge modes and unique ways to approach encounters, as well as a high skill ceiling that rewards mastery and player expression. It is a five hour game that you can play for over a hundred hours.

Where did Death of a Wish come from?

We included a commitment to include an additional character as a stretch goal for Lucah: Born of a Dream’s Kickstarter. Born of a Dream was influenced by action games like Devil May Cry 3 and Bayonetta, which include bonus characters like Vergil and Jeanne who bring different abilities and play styles to the games. Christian was initially intended to be included as an alternate character in Born of a Dream in this style. Plans for this alternate character changed throughout development, and this alternate play mode evolved into a DLC campaign, and eventually into its own game, Death of a Wish.

Do I need to play Lucah: Born of a Dream to enjoy Death of a Wish?

Death of a Wish is intended to be friendly to newcomers, and it assumes no familiarity with Lucah: Born of a Dream. While Death of a Wish is loosely connected to Born of a Dream, players can enjoy the game’s story as a standalone work without missing anything. With that said, people who appreciated Born of a Dream may notice themes, motifs, and character arcs that are enriched with greater context. We would recommend that lore-heads replay the Sacraments from Born of a Dream and ponder them thoughtfully.

How difficult will the game be?

Death of a Wish is tough but fair. It is demanding, punishing, and players will need to pay attention to systems in order to survive. This applies on both a skill-based, reflexive level, as well as the knowledge-based, systems mastery level. We hope that this creates an extremely satisfying play experience filled with moments of challenge and catharsis. With that said, there will be a wide range of difficulty options. You can also build your character towards less-reflexive play styles using tools like burst damage and damage-over-time. A number of physical accessibility options are included, such as reducing enemy damage, simplifying combo inputs, and reducing enemy health. There will also be more robust gamepad control mapping and accessibility options.

Why does the game look like that?

Death of a Wish uses a pixel art style that started with 2015’s Comforting Sounds, when Colin wanted to start making their own art after collaborating with other artists on previous projects. Death of a Wish expands upon that same style to facilitate the game’s combat, world, and atmosphere. Action games are highly contingent on character animation and movement. Having the same person design both the combat systems and character animations allows us to tune the combat to an extremely intricate degree. Game feel is fundamentally important to the combat, and this art style in motion facilitates an extremely satisfying sense of impact and momentum. It’s a game that’s striking and beautiful on its own surreal terms. Death a Wish cannot be compared to anything else visually, and we’re dedicated to exploring this style deeply and intentionally.

What platforms can I play the game on?

We can confirm Windows PC for now. We are also investigating other platforms. We can share more information on this later.

What are the biggest new additions to the game?

There are a number of exciting changes and additions to the game that we will be unveiling over the coming months. One significant difference is that stamina has been removed from the game. This totally changes the pace of play, and results in an aggressive pace of combat where you cannot hesitate at the risk of losing enemy pressure. Death of a Wish is coming soon. You can wishlist and follow it now to get the latest news and announcements.