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Anonymous Tue 01 Oct 2024 23:27:25 No.69629052 Report

Quoted By: >>69629106 >>69629179 >>69629419

>>69629036
doomer Fangs meets up with her alternate skinnie game E2 self.

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Anonymous Tue 01 Oct 2024 23:31:04 No.69629137 Report

Quoted By: >>69629169 >>69629275 >>69629419

>>69629106
The thread disscused skge2 before

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Anonymous Tue 01 Oct 2024 23:32:47 No.69629179 Report

Quoted By: >>69629275 >>69629419

>>69629106
>>69629052 (me)
Basically she's the worst verison of Fang

Anonymous Tue 01 Oct 2024 23:33:07 No.69629190 Report

Quoted By: >>69629275 >>69629419

>>69629106
She's fang at her worst. Got everything she could ever want (Except anon) and has let her ego run rampant. Incredibly vain likely has poorly hidden contempt for her doomer self that develops into open contempt as the conversation progresses and doomer realizes how much of a monster SKG E2 is.
People were kicking around ideas on how the interaction would go yesterday

Anonymous Tue 01 Oct 2024 23:42:16 No.69629419 Report

Quoted By: >>69629651

>>69629052
>>69629137
>>69629179
>>69629190

>Another day of drowning the thoughts. Can't hurt me if they can't pierce the veil of this shitty vodka. I take a deep swill trying to forget the blank and unimpressed faces. Same every single day. Questioning and even pity-filled gazes. Fuck all of them. I stumble over to my bed, or the thing that gets to be called that: Torn and clawed from my many, many outbursts. At least this thing's loyal.
>I tilt the bottle up once more, drawing the last of it into my mouth and down inside. The poison working wonders as my empty stomach quickly floods my bloodstream with pure numbness. Exactly what I was looking for.
>Phone more or less thrown onto the nightstand and I kick off my boots. Only time I can get any sleep at all and I'm going to savor it. I almost miss the bed as my head dizzies. Think I might've gone a bit too far too quickly.
>Now that I'm laying down it kicks into overdrive, world turns and flips as I feel my eyes flutter and shut. Memories mash together and clash. Day piecemeal and broken as it's replayed, stopping and starting.
>Finally my head decides it's had enough and succumbs to the sleep offered. The alcohol soaks them, too. Strange and uncomfortable. Nightmares of any and everything ranging from beings trying to kill me to just simple things like the bass breaking. I try to keep myself grounded, find a happy dream. Maybe one where I don't have to wake up to a filthy skin row apartment. Maybe I don't want to wake up at all.
>Of course the night eventually ends. The struggle over as dawn starts to peek into my room. Dawn? Shit!
>I scramble up and reach for my phone only to find it missing. I blink in the dim early light and flounder for the thing, patting the stand then leaning over to check under the bed. I'm surprisingly not instantly sick to my stomach from the turn. I sit back up and stare straight ahead and start to notice something's...off.
cont.

Anonymous Tue 01 Oct 2024 23:51:30 No.69629651 Report

Quoted By: >>69629845

>>69629419
>This isn't my apartment. It's way too clean for that. Too organized and pristine. Too...rich. I trace the walls with my eyes as I take it in.
>I still get this huge sense of 'me' from all of it, though. I notice several familiar posters, several photos, framed of the band. It's extremely odd.
>I stand and move over, wondering quietly what kind of strange dream of nightmare I've found myself in. I stop in front of a framed photo of us winning some sort of competition. A small handwritten section on the bottom, not my own.
>"Congrats VVURM DRAMA!"
>I start to trace a hand along the photo, unfamiliar yet comforting as a voice startles me from behind. I whip around as...I speak?
>"We entered the battle of the bands, won first place. All thanks to yours truly, of course. Hell of a lot of work but, well,"
>They gesture at the room itself, beaming.
>"It was worth it."
>I fully take in what seems to be me, yet slightly different. Still long hair, tied back into a ponytail and wearing a sort of pant suit, unbuttoned jacket and white shirt underneath. Looking nowhere near as bad as I am. A wide grin appears on their face.
>"The hell happened to you? Reed get you hooked one heroin or something?"
>I stare dumbfounded at the comment as they maneuver off into another room. The hell is their problem with Reed?
>I follow along and start to argue when they call back, not giving me the time.
>"I'm just playing with ya. I know the druggie's harmless. Seriously though, what gives?"
>They sit at a floating island, stool pulled up to it, motioning for me to sit as well. I slowly accept as I stare at them. A mash of emotions threatens to escape my mouth. I reign it in best I can and give the cliffsnotes.
>"I...moved out after highschool, turned to the band full time but...It's been rough."
>My body tenses as another backhanded statement comes through, the other me going for a cigarette. "Starving and pruning, yeah? Anon still around?"
cont.

Anonymous Wed 02 Oct 2024 00:00:21 No.69629845 Report

Quoted By: >>69630146

>>69629651
>My fists clench up into balls. I stare down at my lap as I answer, furiously. "I don't want to talk about him."
>A snort from the other side of the table. Angrily I look up to see them completely aloof.
>"Worthless skinnie run out on you, too? Funny. All we ever did was help him and look at what good that did. Good riddance."
>A cold flame singes my heart. They're not entirely wrong but it hurts to hear that, to hear some of the darker parts of my thoughts made manifest. My limbs feel numb as I sit there and have to accept the statement.
>I hear a deep drag as their story starts.
>"Anon vanished and that was the last straw. Wasn't gambling any more on others. Put on my big-girl panties and did what I needed to. Got the band on track, got us the connections we needed and now we play regularly across a couple venues through Dinofornia. Still working on that mainstage appearance but, hey, getting there." A shrug as they exhale another cloud of fog.
>There's something slightly unsettling about how they talk. Feels like they're talking at me, rather than with me. It's a bit hard to place but before I can dwell an offer is sent at me.
>"Hey, let's bounce. Gotta get some practice in today. C'mon."
>I consider the ramifications of having Reed or Trish see two Fangs, one that's...well me on top of theirs. I fight back.
>"You sure that's a good idea?"
>Another snort as a finger points behind me.
>"Don't think it'll be a problem."
>I turn to see a mirror and notice a distinct lack of me in it. I wave a hand and see only the other me. Oh.
>Before I can fully parse everything that's going on they're already heading out. I scramble after, kicking myself for getting strung along like a lost puppy. I ask as they start to lock the door behind us
>"So you still go by Fang?"
>It's a quick reply, "Sorta. Use it as a stage name. Draws crowds ya know?"
>Again something about the way they say it rubs me wrong. Still hard to place exactly why but I don't question it too much
c

Anonymous Wed 02 Oct 2024 00:11:03 No.69630146 Report

Quoted By: >>69630342

>>69629845
>They continue, "Wait, do you not go by Lucy?"
>A nod no. An almost cringe from them...her? I start to get defensive but can't muster the anger at myself. Just one word response.
>"Rough."
>I follow along as we powerwalk. Hell this place even has an elevator. I step inside as the other me taps the ground floor, dropping the cig into the corner and stamping on it.
>Their voice a bit flat now, "So what is all this? you some sort of ghost or something? Here to haunt me about how shit my life could be?"
>Anger boils over finally, "I don't fucking know! I just went to bed and woke up here!"
>I think I spy eye rolls, "Cool it. Just asking. Raptor Christ."
>I shake off the flash of anger and start to find it hard to believe that the person standing across from me is a form of me. I'm really starting to not like them, at all.
>The elevator dings and we step out onto the bottom floor, heading out into a nearby parking garage and taking yet another elevator up a few floors to find their car. All the while a silent and heavy atmosphere hangs.
>Finally inside the car and I catch a smirk from the side, a CD labeled "Hits #2" is flashed at me. I perk. Hell yeah, now this I can accept. I watch as they slide the thing into the player and pulls us out.
>The sound is good. But not us. I listen quietly and notice just how much more pop it is. It's clear we're playing, I recognize the patterns, the rhythms and my own voice but the genre is nowhere near what we usually play. Not to mention I can distinctly hear a lead guitar.
>It's indie-pop. Fuck, really? I sink into the seat a bit as I listen. My stomach does flips on itself as I listen to a betrayal of something we'd agreed on a long, long time ago. Trish would really push us this far?
>Or maybe...
>It seems while I was busy pondering the music we've arrived. It's a...studio. An actual, furnished and functional studio. They practice here? I stare starstruck as the other me pulls us into a parking spot nearby.
cont.

Anonymous Wed 02 Oct 2024 00:19:55 No.69630342 Report

Quoted By: >>69630549

>>69630146
>I follow along as we walk inside, a few knowing nods from several individuals as we do. Regulars. VVURM DRAMA are regulars here.
>I bite the inside of my mouth and consider exactly how much I can give up for this kind of lifestyle. Maybe there's something to be learned here. I hate it but...maybe it's the change we need. Shit, wonder how Trish is gonna respond.
>Speaking of we find the other two band members as we enter a recording room. They look wildly different.
>Trish is similar but tamer. Her normal longer hair and an outfit consisting of a tank top and jeans. Nothing out of the ordinary but she's got a huge lack of makeup and...life?
>The normal heavy goth makeup is nowhere to be found, a regular base and nothing else, if that. No eyeshadow, no lipstick just...Trish.
>But that's not the most striking part. It's her eyes. The Trish I know has a spark in them, set deep but fiery. An anger or a passion. Flipping between like a see-saw. This Trish is nothing in that regards.
>Soft and pleading eyes. Wanting and...submissive. Almost afraid. Who the hell is this?
>I glance over to Reed in horror as well. He's never been too clean looking but as he stands before me I worry that he's a few paces from the grave. Thin as a post, everything sunken in and frail. Clothes tatters and stained. If I didn't know better I'd think he was blind with the way he points his head at nothing. He doesn't even perk as we enter.
>Trish speaks, excitedly. "Oh heya Lucy we were just gett-"
>She's cut off by the other Fang.
>"We're working on the two songs I sent you a few days ago. Starting with 'In progress one' understood?" A nod from Trish. Reed just slowly picks up his sticks and straightens.
>The soul of the music will revive them I'm sure of it. Even my Trish and Reed perk when we write, find that spark again. I watch and expect to see the happiness flow in.
cont.

Anonymous Wed 02 Oct 2024 00:27:54 No.69630549 Report

Quoted By: >>69630826

>>69630342
>There's none of it to be found here. It's like a job. Nothing behind the sound, just machines performing what's asked of them. I can barely stand to watch.
>It's another generic indie-hit. I can already tell this thing is designed and nurtured to be popular. To sound 'good.' I'm disgusted.
>It just gets worse. I notice Trish misstep a note and start to do the usual, making a mental check here to bring it up if she forgets. Lucy spares no such courtesy. Everything grinds to a halt as she stops.
>"Trish." Her tone is absolutely wreathed in command and authority.
>"Sorry! I know, sorry." Quickly Trish cowers before her as Lucy sighs and counts the band down again.
>Again they go through the song as if it was no more than a paycheck. Just a means to an end. Every second of it boils my blood. Hatred courses through me as I solidify my position. Never. Not ever will I do this.
>Finally they get to the end of the song and I pray for a reprieve, some sort of congratulations or a pat on the back. Instead I get the worst thing I've ever had to witness.
>In one fluid motion Lucy moves over and strikes Trish across the face, tumbling her backwards as she speaks up, voice of fire and brimstone
>"Did you even practice!? You almost fucked the timing, AGAIN!" She sighs and puts on a cold venom in her voice, "Are you really going to make me find a replacement?"
>My eyes go wise as Trish quickly begs, "No please! I'm just tired! Please, Lucy!"
>Lucy just glares down at her, finally shaking her head before moving away. Trish scrambles up and takes her place as Lucy counts another song down. I catch her gaze before she does and notice just how empty her eyes are. The only thing in them expectation
>It hurts. The song counts down as I stare at the floor and realize that this is a piece of me. I could have done this. I'm lying to myself trying to deny it. I can see each step that got us here. I burn inside as I watch them finally finish another song. Perfectly. Mechanically
c

Anonymous Wed 02 Oct 2024 00:37:47 No.69630826 Report

Quoted By: >>69631082

>>69630549
>"Alright we're done here. Text me the names you two once you two figure it out." Icy and distant she moves to the door and opens it, pausing to glance at me with that petrifying gaze. She pushes out as I find my legs frozen to the spot.
>I listen in quietly as Reed slowly approaches Trish, seemingly a touch of life in him as he talks to her. His voice is beyond quiet and soft. Almost painful to listen to it's so tender.
>"Hey. Are your hands okay?"
>It's a touch of a pause before she answers, "Yeah. The blister popped again last night." I look closer now and now only notice her hands. They look like they've been through a blender. I can see a small dot bandage on her finger. A deep red-brown stain on it as she turns it up to show Reed.
>All he offers is a pat on the shoulder, the two now moving to the door. I follow along, not wanting to risk getting trapped in here. They walk out a different way than Lucy. I have to take a bit of a roundabout path to get back to the car to find her smoking again, a bit of an annoyed look at me as I approach.
>"I was gonna leave you if you took too long. Come on."
>I put my foot down. "Why the hell do you treat Trish that way!? She's our friend!"
>As if she's had this conversation a million times she doesn't even flinch, just ashes her cig once. "If I don't push her she doesn't get better, we don't make hits, we all starve. Like you."
>I could jab my thumbs in her fucking eyes. She keeps going.
>"I guess that's the difference, here. You took it laying down. Let it happen. And look at you." A chuckle, cold and dry.
>I scream back. "FUCK! YOU! You...you gave up everything for what!? Money!?"
>This seems to have drawn a rise. The cigarette now stamped out as she raises her voice. "I made compromises. I suffered, I bled, I sweat and cried for this. I'm PROUD of where we got to, where I carried us to. I sleep in a comfortable bed, eat nice food and have something to show for it."
>She goes for the throat now.
cont one more.

Anonymous Wed 02 Oct 2024 00:47:55 No.69631082 Report

Quoted By:

>>69630826
>"I don't have to turn tricks in skin row to barely feed myself. Take a hint, bitch."
>My head rings as she enters the car, quickly peeling out and leaving me standing and shaking staring at the trail as she leaves. Slowly I find myself sitting, legs refusing any more effort.
>I stare into the distance and feel everything crashing around me. Her words cut. They'd meant to. My knees pull up to my chest as I quake and shake. I'm not a failure.
>The tears start. So what if I struggle? So what if I barely find time to live? I'm not...I'm not HER. I press my face into my knees as I sit on this little parking spot divider. I couldn't ever. Not in a million years treat my friends like that.
>Yet a point of hers refuses to leave my head. She did make compromises and got what she deserved even if it made her a worse person. A small but dark bead settles into my head. I can't force this anymore. Compromises must come but...not that. I can give up some things. I won't ever give up my friends.
>I start to pull off my legs to find somewhere to be. Find a way home from wherever this is. I think I don't need to work very hard for it.
>The world's blurry and fading. My form melding with the colors in the background. Every blink getting harder to tell where I am until finally the last blink reveals a ceiling.
>Nausea. Heavy. I groan and start to focus, entire body reminding me exactly what I'd done. And where I need to be if I don't want to have to clean my floor.
>I scramble up and into the bathroom, evacuating my insides into the porcelain throne. Another few pumps of gagging as my poor decisions come out of my mouth. I roll off and sit dazed.
>Change is happening whether I want it or not. That or dad has to come ID my body. I wipe my face, coated in sweat as I pierce the haze with a promise to myself of growth.

Fin

>>69629058
Next, short break first.