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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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captaindodson · 4 years

Text

Starstruck - Timothée Chalamet 1/??

Disclaimer: This chapter is a bit slow but I promise it will pick up! Updates will be slow, but I will try my best to get parts out as fast as I can! :)

Word Count: 2.7k

Synopsis: Ella is a 20-year-old girl heading off to college in September and her family insists they all go on a week vacation to California before she leaves. Ella is excited to soak up the California sun and her sister’s are determined to meet the man of their dreams. On one fateful afternoon, Ella and this man accidentally meet and from then on they just can’t seem to get away from each other.

The squeal of my two sisters breaks my train of thought as I crouch in front of the small bookshelf in my living room. The sound of a woman's voice followed by the sound of cameras flashing alerts me to look over my shoulder in the direction of the sound. With the current spot I am in, I cannot see what is going on. So I grab two books blindly and tuck them under my arm as I make my way closer to the source of the noise to get a better view. My younger sisters Lindsey and Jordan sit on my parent's beige love-seat, covered in our thin, grey, cotton blanket, watching the television intensely.

“Timothee Chalamet stood on the red carpet tonight as the winner of the best actor trophy for his lead role in NightWatch. Timothee played a rookie detective trying to solve the disappearance of the Mona Lisa. During the investigation, the rookie detective is met with people of his past that just come back to haunt him. Timothee Chalamet currently stands outside 71Above posing for pictures as his rumored girlfriend Victoria Belluci parties inside celebrating his win.”

“Isn’t he so dreamy?” Lindsey says.

Lindsey rests the back of her hand on her forehead with a small smile, leaning her body back into the love-seat. Jordan copies her actions as they both close their eyes in bliss. I turn my attention back to the scene that is unfolding on screen. A man with brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, wears a dark blue suit, and he stands in front of a set of glass doors.

“Oh my god, move your butt Ella, we can’t see Timothee!”

I’m not even that close to the television but I take a step back just to feel my legs brush up against a small table holding a large object that begins to wobble. I turn quickly to grab a vase filled with fresh tulips from falling and shattering. Screams alert my attention back again to the television. Timothee has now started signing autographs for people outside the restaurant. He smiles as microphones and cameras are pushed into his face and that is when reporters start yelling questions out at him.

“Timothee, how does it feel to win best actor?”

“Timothee! Look over here Timothee!”

“Timothee, is it true you and Victoria are hooking up?Are you guys even together?”

“Timothee! How does it feel to be the next Christian Bale?”

“Timothee, tell us, is it true that you’re working on a secret project?”

“Ahah it’s no secret, I’m currently in rehearsals for the play that’s going to start in two weeks in New York. I’m excited for my fans to see what I and many others have been working hard on.”

Timothee answers the final question with a charming smile. He quickly signs another photo and hands back the marker to a fan. A large muscular man, dressed head to toe in black, comes right up behind Timothee and whispers something into his ear. Timothee’s smile drops for just amount as he nods. His smile bounces back and addresses the crowd that has accumulated on the sidewalk in front of this restaurant that he has to leave as his security starts leading him away into a black car. Timothee jumps in the rear door of the car and then it takes off into the streets of Los Angeles as the crowd that was once surrounding the front of this popular restaurant, quickly separates. The main camera zooms out as we are brought back to the studio where a woman with dark skin, flowing black hair that rests on her collar bone is dressed in a grey suit is sitting on a pink couch in front of a glass window. She smiles brightly into the camera and starts talking about things relating to Timothee Chalamet.

“Can you believe it Jordan!? In less than 24 hours we are going to be in California, soaking up all that Cali sun but also rubbing shoulders with Timothee Chalamet!”

Lindsey squeals in delight as she and Jordan high-five each other. I cringe ever so slightly to my sister's scream.

“What makes him so special? He’s just like any other male actor.” I shrug at my sisters and they give me a look of disbelief.

“Excuse me, what makes him so special? He academy award-wining actor who is extremely talented and hot.” Jordan just glares at me.

“Okay besides the point, California is filled with millions of people, the likelihood of meeting him is super slim. How can you be so sure you’ll see him-” I’m cut off mid-sentence by Jordan.

“We know where he’ll be. If you didn’t know Ella, both of us run very popular Timothee Chalamet fan accounts that follow his every move,” Lindsey jumps into the conversation.

“We know where he eats, where he hangs out, who he friends with, we’ve got eyes all over the world Ella.”

“Okay, that’s just really creepy. Listen, Lindsey, you’re sixteen and so are you Jordan. Mom and dad will never let you two go out on your own in a different country. We aren’t going to California to chase guys, and that includes Timothee. ”

I cross my arms at this point and my sisters do the same.

“Who says we can’t, ” Jordan and Lindsey say at the same time while keeping strong eye contact. A moment of silence occurs and then my dad’s voice breaks through the air.

“Says me. Girls, Ella is right, we are not going to California to chase boys. We are going to spend some good quality time together before Ella heads off to college.”

Our dad enters the room from the kitchen and pulls me into a half hug, he then continues.

“This will be the last time in a while before we get to see our sweet Ella again, so ladies lets make the most of it.”

My dad smiles down at me and I smile back.

“Yeah but dad-!” Lindsey attempts to reason with our dad by pulling out a pout and puppy dog eyes. Jordan copies her actions in an attempt to help persuade my dad. My dad walks towards Lindsey and stops right behind the love-seat.

“Lindsey, you will have plenty of time for that stuff. This vacation is about spending some quality time with family.”

He pats the top of the love seat with his hand. “Okay dad, I guess you’re right.”

Lindsey sighs and slumps back against Jordan in defeat. My dad gives her a small smile and turns so he is facing all of us girls.

“Anyways, girls you better get your things ready, we are leaving first thing tomorrow morning!”

My dad says as he walks with a skip in his step back into the kitchen. Lindsey and Jordan throw off the blanket that was in their lap and start running towards the stairs to their shared bedroom. I take my time walking up the wooden steps and down the hallway into my room. I toss the books I had under my arm into my suitcase laying wide open next to my closet doors. I stretch my arms up as my green t-shirt rides up on my stomach and then I relax again. I put my hands into the front pockets of my jeans.

“In less than 24 hours I can enjoy the California sunshine while trying new delicious food.”

I smile at the thought and as I head towards my dresser to start getting ready for the night. The morning arrives fairly quickly but also soars by in a flash. Everyone wakes up at sunrise and packs into our moms black mini-van and drive about 45 minutes into the city to get to Pearson airport. We go through security and Lindsey and Jordan are skipping ahead of me to get onto the flight while our parents hang back behind me. We make it to our flight on time and all get adjusted in our tiny airplane seats. Jordan and Lindsey sit on the inside seats next to the window as I sit on the edge, next to the isle, plugging in my headphones to watch whatever movie to pass the time.

By the time we land Jordan and Lindsey and rushing to get their bags out of the luggage and squeezing through people getting their things, while my parents and I take our time getting our carry on’s and head out of the crowded plane. As we all walk through the bright tunnel on our way to the main body of LAX, the voices of people get louder and louder. Once we exit the tunnel, there’s just hundreds of people, all different nationalities and ages walking around.

We head to the baggage claim and grab all of our stuff and start heading outside. I yawn into my arm as I drag my large suitcase across the LAX parking lot as follow my family to the car rental place. By the time we make it there, the wait isn’t very long. My dad got us a decent sized car and everyone shoves their luggage in the trunk and slides in.

I let Lindsey and Jordan jump in first as I slide in after. Everyone buckles themselves in and we head off towards our rental house for the week. We start driving out of the airport and this is when I pull out my white headphones and turn up my music and admire the Los Angeles landscape. Buildings shine brightly in the California sun, people are walking their dogs, skateboarding, a couple food trucks on the street. It’s almost unreal that I’m here right now. I rest my head on the window and the smooth ride combined with my music lulls me to sleep.

I don’t know how long I was asleep, but I’m awoken by a large bump in the road and this is when I realize we’ve already made it to our destination. It’s a very modern sized house with a brown tiled roof that tops tan brick walls. The house has a front porch with black metal chairs resting against the front of the house. A small path made up of large stones leads from the house to the driveway. Healthy green grass spreads itself all across the front of the property.

“Mom, can Jordan and I go to a fro-yo shop down the street? It’s super famous for its pumpkin pie flavor and Jordan and I really, really want to try it.”

Lindsey says this as she and Jordan unbuckle themselves and push the car door open.

“Sweetheart, as much as we trust you we can’t let you go out by yourself. We have to unpack and figure out what we are going to do for dinner”

My mom tells my sisters. Lindsey and Jordan look at each other before they both speak.

“Ella said she would be happy to bring us! Right, Ella?!”Jordan pipes in.

I squint my eyes at them, “I didn’t agree to anything-” I’m cut off by Lindsey.

“You told us before we left the house you’d bring us for some sister time since I’ll miss you sooooo much during the school year. ”

Lindsey gives me a puppy dog look and I make eye contact with my parents who are both staring at me. Feeling the pressure from them I cave in.

“Okay, let's go ” I sigh deeply. The girls high five each other as my parents give me a smile.

“Excellent! Be back in a half-hour girls, it’ll give me and your mom time to unpack a few things, and then we can all decide what we want to do for dinner when you girls get back.”

My dad smiles widely at us as he lifts another suitcase out of the rental car. Lindsey and Jordan smile devilishly at each other as I sign deeply and walk back towards the car to retrieve my things.

I collect my wallet and phone from the car as Jordan and Lindsey scurry down the sidewalk. I stuff my hands in my pockets as I follow my sister and Jordan down the street to this fro-yo place. They seem to talk quietly to themselves as I admire the scene around me. The three of us walk down the sidewalk along a ton of nice houses. Many look like the one my family is renting but just colored differently. Cars also drive back and forth on the road and the echo of car horns and people yelling fill the air. It’s hard to believe that I’m so close to attending the school of my dreams. When I finished high school I didn’t know what I wanted to do so I worked and saved up money until I finally figured it out.

By the time I reach a crosswalk there are already a few other people waiting so I just stand behind this guy in a yellow beanie and a denim jacket. I tap my foot as I continue to look around soaking in the California sun. Just as the traffic light is about to turn red I notice something. Weren’t Jordan and Lindsey in front of me? I whip my head around to try and spot them, I catch the smallest glimpse of Lindsey’s blonde hair just as she turns the corner at the end of the street. I squeeze in between the people around me, apologizing quickly and now running to catch up with Lindsey and Jordan. I’ve run about a block when Jordan and Lindsey start slowing down. I slow my pace down a little bit to catch my breath.

“Jordan! Lindsey!” I yell out to them. At this moment they pick up their speed and catch me off guard. By the time I reach the end of another street and turn the corner they’re long gone.

Shit. I heavily breathe as I lean forward to rest my hands on my knees.

“Damn, they’re fast,” I mumble to myself.

I look at the few people who pass me on the sidewalk. Each of them ignoring my presence and continuing with their day. I stand tall as I try again to try and see if I can spot where Lindsey and Jordan ran off too. My breathing slows to a regular pace as I hear the echo of screaming men and women coming from my right. To my right, conveniently is a relatively large, but clear, ally way. The most prominent object in the ally is a large green dumpster with a black lid. It seems like if I run I’d be able to clear the ally and catch up to Lindsey and Jordan.

I take a deep breath and start my jog into the ally. My light jog turns into a sprint to quickly get through this. The screaming and chanting of people get louder as I make it closer to the other side. Before I can even react, a tall figure dressed in a navy hoodie and a baseball hat turns quickly into the ally with his head down and I slam right into him I fall back onto the hard concrete beneath me with a loud thump as he stumbles but catches his footing. His hood has now slipped off his hat and I can his face more clearly.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I-”

I’m cut off mid-sentence as this stranger dives right for me, covering my mouth with his pale hand. My eyes widen as I’m met with a pair of forest green eyes staring deeply into my hazel eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, just please don’t scream my name.”

#Timothee chalamet imagine #Timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x female reader #timothee chalamet series #not my gif #dodson writing

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dorizardthewizard · 4 years

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So I watched the Eurovision movie

Uh, I have a lot of thoughts because this is the closest we’re gonna get to the real thing this year ;^; First, the positives!

What they got right:

Overall, I like that it wasn’t really taking the piss out of the competition – whether you agree or not with how it was portrayed, the creators do have a lot of love for the show and that is reflected in how much it means to the characters. I think it was fitting to start with the kids watching and being inspired by ABBA’s win (I’m always up for showing people where the group’s fame started), and making it their life goal to perform in the contest. Just like Lars and Sigrit, many musicians in Europe grow up with Eurovision being an annual tradition and it’s their big dream to one day perform on that international stage, so yeah I think it decently showed how important ESC is here.

They got the overall vibe right too – most of the songs really felt like Eurovision songs (maybe a little dated but still), from the Viking-Europop opener to the Lordi-aesthetic one to whatever the hell Russia was doing. I don’t think Greece’s song was something they’d ever send though; it fits the character but not what the country typically sends. Then again, Estonia have sent an opera song in Italian and Romania sent yodel rap so actually, I take back that statement. They were missing a Balkan ballad though! Staging was on point – I think it was filmed at the Tel Aviv stage so that’s obviously a factor, but big angel wings and hamster wheels also bring a lot of familiarity :P No pianos being set on fire though, which, in a movie with so many on-stage disasters, is honestly surprising.

Of course there’s also the past contestant cameos, for that I’ll say one thing – needs more Verka. Maybe some contestants from earlier years would have been nice too, at least we did hear Céline Dion’s song in the song-along. Would also have been nice if the whole mashup was Eurovision songs, instead of throwing in some other ones just to make it more recognizable for non-Eurofans. Otherwise, the mashup was really seamless and sounded good.

Another thing the movie got right was European’s attitudes to Americans, not sure how I feel about it since the movie was made by Americans, but it’s self-aware and pretty funny :P There’s also the funny gag about countries not wanting to host because of how expensive it is, not sure why a guy working for the national broadcaster would care about that but looking at Iceland’s population size, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was also an economist for the government or something.

What they got wrong:

Of course, there were some things they didn’t quite get right. First of all, did the UK win for it to be hosted in Scotland??? Unless Australia won, or some other country that didn’t want to host or something. They actually made a joke about UK getting zero points, but they said it’s because no one likes us, when in reality we just send the blandest songs :/

There were also a whole lot of technical inaccuracies like Sweden breaking the rule on number of people allowed on stage, big five countries taking part in the semi-final (come on, how can you not get that right? Maybe they were afraid Americans wouldn’t recognise half the flags? :P), the contestants were just sitting by themselves in some room like it’s The Voice or something, their delegations nowhere to be seen, and then there’s the total lack of security or planning around the competition, with Lars just running around doing whatever. The countries presenting their votes in the semi-final stood out as well, but since we didn’t get to see the final I can brush over it, just so we experience the voting somewhere in the movie. Wonder why they didn’t use past contestants for the points announcements? They also had the French one speaking in English but you know what, they remembered to make sure he was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower so I’ll let them off :P

One thing that did bother me was how hard the movie tried to make us think the Icelandic song was a failure, except the song wasn’t even bad so they had to resort to all the incidents on stage. They even had that complete silence after the hamster wheel incident, and there is NO WAY that would ever happen – even the null points songs get cheers! In fact, people would cheer harder, and I don’t think Graham Norton, or anyone for that matter, would be that surprised that people remembered the song and actually gave it points (oh yeah, great to see him in this!).

Okay, some of those inaccuracies were nitpicks, but they’re just fun to point out. I don’t think they quite nailed the portrayal though, but more on that later.

The movie itself:

Judging the rest of the film, the humour really didn’t do it for me- it was just kind of jarring that one half of the movie felt like your usual light-hearted music contest film that was fairly rooted in reality, then the next there’s a dismembered ghost of Demi Lovato and a guy getting stabbed by Elves??? I know it’s classic Will Ferrel random comedy but honestly, those parts could have been cut out of the movie just fine, it’s like half an hour too long anyway and you can tell by the way the humour drags. It can basically be summarised by the ending scene where Lars is yelling at the Americans and then just keeps going, and I know that’s the joke in that scene but they do this throughout the whole movie – something will happen and the characters will keep reacting back and forth and it’s honestly exhausting. That might just be me though, maybe I’d prefer more witty and self-aware humour in a Eurovision movie but I guess non-fans wouldn’t get half the jokes so they went for over-the-top ridiculousness ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As for the characters, Sigrit was great; she’s a good mix between cute and weird. Lars is… annoying tbh, maybe I just don’t care for Will Ferrel's character type but when Alexander asks Lars what he can possibly offer Sigrit I was like “yeah Lars, what CAN you offer?”. Their relationship was cute though and his arc about caring too much about winning was decent, it does kind of resonate with Eurovision because yeah, lots of countries will revamp their songs to have English lyrics and the style is increasingly converging to Americanized radio-friendly pop music. I do wish they’d focused more on this conflict, rather than bringing in a love square (?) with Alexander and Mita.

Speaking of Alexander, I actually liked how they portrayed the Russian character; he wasn’t a villain, he was fun to watch and was genuinely happy to see Sigrit succeed. I did not expect them to go there with the whole “there are no gays in Russia” thing – I laughed but also actually felt for the guy, and his friendship with Mita was peak mlm/wlw solidarity, it was sweet.

The ending:

For me, this is where it goes American Hollywood style and kinda reminds me of Madonna’s speech about everyone being winners. Felt like I was watching Camp Rock for a second then (which is funny since Demi is in this movie) – all the other acts are fun songs but we’ll just change ours to a ballad so it must be more heartfelt and resonate with the audience, as if a good chunk of ESC songs aren’t ballads already!! To be fair, they do well in having it be a personal song about her hometown and adding in parts in Icelandic (although I’ve heard it’s so butchered you can’t understand what’s being said), it’s a sweet ode to one of the best parts of Eurovision – celebrating where you’re from and making your country proud.

Wish they’d focused more on that tbh, we really could have done without Lars speaking to the audience – that’s the more Hollywood moment for me and kind of reminds me of acts that try to connect with the audience like it’s a concert. Sorry but we don’t do that here :P Instead of the “music is feeling”-like message, it would have been nice if the movie was more directed towards celebrating why the contest is so big and important even decades after it began, and how it literally brings an entire continent together for one night. This would have been nice especially because of all the cynicism towards ESC and its dismissal as just a dumb, campy event with no quality music whatsoever.

Huh, I just remembered there are no live instruments at Eurovision so how everyone can hear the piano at the end is beyond me, also the instrumental kicks in despite the fact that that song has never been recorded in a studio, let alone able to be played out loud onstage. But I’ll just imagine that’s for us to see, the audience actually just heard her singing and nothing else. I don’t think it would have been that impressive, so Iceland probably won everyone’s hearts through memes instead :’D

Overall, I don’t think the movie was terribly offensive or anything, just some silly fun that missed out on the potential of better portraying the Eurovision spirit. I might eventually watch it again, but with skipping out half the comedy :P

#eurovision #esc #eurovision movie #the story of fire saga #feel free to share thoughts if you were crazy enough to read all this!#my posts

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cherry-valentine · 4 years

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Summer 2020 Anime Season

What I’m Watching:

Deca Dence is one of the better shows this season, probably the best one that started fresh this summer. It has a very strange setup that I won’t detail very much here to avoid spoilers. It’s strange in that it’s a fairly unique twist and in that they waited until episode two to actually drop that particular bomb (whereas most anime would definitely try to cram it into episode one). The bare bones premise of episode one is that there is a huge, mobile fortress that contains some of the last remnants of humanity as they try to survive in an apocalyptic world overrun by monsters of unknown origin that range in size from tiny insects to huge kaiju. A young girl named Natsume dreams of being one of the warriors who fight the monsters, but is instead given the lowly job of armor maintenence, where she meets the older, gruff Kaburagi whom she learns was once a famed warrior. Natsume’s relationship with Kaburagi sets off the actual plot, but the story takes several turns that I honestly didn’t see coming. The series is quite violent, with literally tons of monster blood flowing and plenty of human death, but it maintains an overall upbeat, adventurous feel, with some well-done humor and genuinely touching moments. The art is colorful and bright, with some truly impressive animation. It clearly has high production values. Natsume is a fun character (even if we’ve seen characters like her many times before). She’s your typical optimistic, never-give-up, spunky sort of girl but she works really well as a hero in this kind of story and is generally entertaining to watch. Kaburagi is also a fun character that we’ve seen the likes of before (the stern former soldier type with a heart of gold). Overall a great series and very high on my watch list.

Gibiate is an oddity. It’s a series that had the potential to be top tier. I mean this show could have been not only the best of the season, but possibly the best of the year. It has gorgeous character designs by Yoshitaka Amano. The voice acting is top notch. And the premise is awesome: In 1600, a samurai and a ninja are both suddenly transported to a modern, near future Japan that has been completely ravaged by a disease that turns humans into powerful, grotesque monsters. They fall in with a small group of survivors that have gathered around a couple of scientists and a doctor who are working on a cure. Sure, it’s not 100% original, but it’s an exciting premise that results in some great samurai and ninja action. The problem is, for all the show’s great ideas, the execution is totally flubbed. For starters, the animation budget is obviously quite a lot smaller than it needed to be. What should have been thrilling battles of katana and shuriken on monster violence end up just being sort of bland. Too many cut corners. The writing also suffers, with often nonsensical dialogue and character behaviors that are so illogical that they end up being unintentionally hilarious. A good example of this is how practically everyone in the group of survivors just takes the fact that these two guys are time travelers from the past totally in stride. Hardly anyone is surprised at all or even questions it. The show tries to dismiss the stupidity of this by having one character say, “Well we have these monsters running around so why not have people traveling here from the past?” Which is still dumb because he’s a doctor who has been studying the virus and knows how it works, scientifically. But he has no questions for the guys who show up out of nowhere claiming to be from 1600? Another example would be how the samurai and ninja react to modern technology. Basically, there’s very little reaction. They don’t even react to a freaking helicopter! They should be losing their minds over this stuff! Still though, despite the show’s many shortcomings, there remains a small nugget of greatness. I can almost imagine how fantastic this show would have been with decent production values. And because I can see that potential, I’m still watching and I’m actually enjoying it very much. The characters, poorly written as they are, somehow remain interesting. The visuals, despite being sabotaged by clunky animation, are still appealing. I know it’s strange to watch and enjoy a series because of what it COULD have been, rather than what it IS, but here we are. Surprisingly high on my watch list.

Koi to Producer is an otome series with very pretty art and a supernatural plot. It’s based on a Chinese phone game that I’ve never played but sounds a lot like Mystic Messenger in how the game is played. It follows a young woman trying to produce a television show about various rumors, urban legends, etc. who gets mixed up in the world of Evolvers (humans who have developed special powers). Of course four of these Evolvers are handsome single men who are very successful and clearly attracted to her. She also ends up becoming a target of Black Swan, a shady group studying Evolvers. The show is somewhat plot-heavy, in that it tends to focus a bit more on the overarching story than on the romance. This is fine by me. The men are handsome, but two of them look a little too similar to each other, making it hard to tell them apart when they’re both in the same scene. It’s nice that the heroine is an adult and a big part of the story is about her career, but other than that she’s a bit bland and could be switched out for any other bland otome heroine and no one would notice. So far the series has hinted at an interesting back story for her so I’ll just have to hope it follows through on that. I’m enjoying the show because it’s pleasant to look at and not boring, but it’s the lowest title on my watch list.

Appare Ranman is my overall favorite of the season, which is ironic because it actually began last season. It was put on hiatus due to the pandemic and resumed this season. If you remember the old cartoon Wacky Races, this is basically the anime version of that. It focuses largely on two Japanese men who end up stuck in California after some crazy hijinks: Appare, an aloof and eccentric mechanical genius, and Kosame, a straight-laced but genuinely kind samurai who had been given the thankless job of keeping Appare in line. Broke and lost in an unfamiliar land, the two of them decide to enter a cross-country race and use the prize money to get back to Japan. Along the way they meet a whole cast of wild, crazy, and fun characters (including my favorite, the lovely, badass, and determined Jing Xialian, the only woman in the race, who had to fight against sexism and discrimination just to get the opportunity to drive in the race). The series has a very fun vibe, but has enough serious moments to keep it from being a straight up comedy (the aforementioned discrimination felt very realistic, and at least two characters are still suffering emotional trauma from losing family members to violence when they were children). One of my favorite aspects is Appare himself. He pays absolutely no mind to social norms and doesn’t care in the slightest what anyone thinks of him. This resulted in his family back in Japan being ashamed of him and everyone else viewing him as a weirdo. But Appare doesn’t mind any of that, and happily pursues his dreams. An interesting scene early on is when Jing is grappling with the fact that she’ll never be accepted as a racer because she’s a woman. She’s clearly in emotional turmoil. Kosame, who is the kinder, more compassionate of the two leads, can’t really help her. He can sympathize with her plight, but his own rigid regard for social norms prevents him from telling Jing to just go ahead and be a racer, society and their expectations be damned. It’s Appare, the guy who seemingly has very little regard for, or interest in, other people, who encourages Jing to follow her dreams. To Appare, there’s absolutely no reason why Jing can’t be a racer. The fact that society refuses to accept her means nothing. Jing has the skill to be a racer. She should be a racer. The scene did a lot to endear Appare to me. Aside from great characters (and there are so many that I can’t possibly mention them all here), the animation and design work are amazing. The characters as well as the vehicles look fantastic. The music is also great, with my favorite opening and ending themes of the season. If you want totally fun and wild romp, you can’t go wrong with this series.

Carry Over Shows From Previous Seasons: Black Clover Ahiru no Sora Major 2nd Season 2

Best of Season: Best New Show: Appare Ranman Best Opening Theme: Appare Ranman Best Ending Theme: Appare Ranman Best New Male Character: Appare (Appare Ranman) Best New Female Character: Jing Xialian (Appare Ranman)

#Anime #Anime Reviews #Seasonal Anime #Anime Recommendations #Summer 2020 Anime #Appare Ranman #Deca Dence #Text

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dyscrasia-eucrasia · 4 years

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Content Warning: This chapter depicts a brief scene of attempted assault

Part 9

"What's up Claykids, welcome back to my second channel, new vlogs every single day," Clayton Howard shouted at the Go Pro he held at arm's length from his face. Angel knew he was loud based on his videos, but hadn't been prepared for just how loud he really was. It took a lot of restraint not to cringe away.

"We're here with AngelVinh96, go follow him on Insta," Clayton continued, wrapping an arm around Angel's shoulders and pulling him into frame. Angel flashed a bright smile at the camera. "Angel's here to show us how they party in West Virginia!"

"Hiiii," Angel cooed, holding up a peace sign for the camera.

"Okay, and cut," Clayton said, and he lowered the camera, his huge smile instantly disappearing. He released his hold on Angel's shoulders. "That's good for the intro, we'll start filming again when we actually get to the club."

The conversation had been like that since they'd met up. Clayton had been all business, talking about shots and directing not only his friends, but Angel as well. Angel couldn't help but feel disappointed. This was sort of what he'd expected talking to Demie to go like when he'd approached him after the concert - awkward and parasocial. But Demie had been easy to talk to. Clayton, on the other hand, was the worst kind of influencer, the kind that was purely a performance.

And he'd looked so relatable on Youtube, too.

"Alright, so where are we headed?" Clayton asked, turning to Angel. His face was so devoid of joy that it was eerie.

"Alright, so, Broadway is the big gay nightclub," Angel said. "There's Atmosphere, but they don't have a dance floor."

"Aw man, we're going to a gay club?" One of Clayton's crew moaned. Angel thought that that one was Jason Ransom, but he could've been Miller High. It was hard to tell, they were both blonde Californian white guys.

"Man, shut the fuck up," Clayton said. "You can deal with gay guys hitting on you for one night."

That was the saving grace of all this, at least. Clayton was openly bi, and even if he was just as image-obsessed as the rest of Youtube, Angel might still be able to get a hookup out of this. Plus the exposure on Youtube would really help his Instagram follower count.

"So how long have you been a dancer?" Clayton asked as they walked down the sidewalk towards the club. Angel fought back a sigh of relief. Clayton was asking him about himself, so the guy couldn't be that self-absorbed, right?

"Like four years?"

"Wow, so you're like a veteran, huh? How'd you get into it?"

"It was in college - I really, really needed money, and I mean, I did theater in high school so I already knew how to dance, just not on a pole, y'know? And then it wound up being more fun than school, so I just sort of stuck with it."

"That's dope. So, this the place?" He nodded to a two story plantation-style house, complete with columns, with rainbow flags flying from the second story balcony.

"Yep, this is Broadway."

"Cool, cool, let me get some shots."

Clayton pulled out his Go Pro again, and turned it on. As soon as he did, his face light up with a smile and he started shouting. It was eerie, like he'd flipped a switch and become a totally different person.

"Yoooo, check it out guys, this place is DOPE!"

"Look at this Colonel Sanders looking place, fam!" One of his crew shouted behind him.

"Let's go inside!" Clayton said as he ascended the porch steps. Angel followed after him, flashing his ID to the bouncer.

It was a Thursday night, so the place wasn't jam-packed, and there weren't any drag shows scheduled, but the bar still thumped with dance music and there was a decently sized crowd.

"Yo, this place is so fuckin' country, I love it," Clayton shouted over the noise as Angel led him to the bar.

"Okay, so, my tradition here is to always start out with a shot of Fireball," Angel shouted, smiling as Clayton shoved the camera in his face.

"Alright, yeah, show us how country kids party," Clayton shouted back.

Angel ordered, and within a minute the bartender produced enough shots for the entire filming crew, who had gathered around the bar. Clayton took a minute to hand off his camera to one of the guys and coordinate camera angles, then picked up a shot glass.

"Alright, on three," he shouted. "One, two, THREE!" He knocked back the shot with ease, and Angel followed suit.

Clayton's entire body shuddered, and he yelped. "Oh shit man, that's fire!" He shouted. He looked over at Angel, who hadn't had a reaction to the shot at all. "Dude, look at this fucker, look how fucking calm he is!" Clayton grabbed the camera back and shoved it in Angel's face again. "That shit was spicy as fuck, how are you not even affected?"

"That wasn't spicy!" Angel laughed. "That was like, white-people-spicy! It's not actually spicy!"

"Check this guy out," Clayton shouted, "balls of fucking steel over here!"

"C'mon, let's dance!" Angel shouted, grabbing Clayton by the strap of his tank top and pulling him towards the dance floor.

"You heard the man," Clayton shouted into the camera, before tossing it back to one of his crew.

Angel quickly learned that Clayton had no rhythm to speak of. He moved jankily; gyrating, but not in time to the music. He couldn't really keep up with Angel. Still, it was fun. Or at least that was what Angel told himself. He would've preferred someone who could actually dance, but it wasn't like Clayton was known for dancing or anything. It wasn't like he could really be disappointed.

They stayed on the dance floor for a few songs, always shadowed by one of Clayton's crew, before Angel dragged Clayton back to the bar. "Okay, we gotta get more drinks!" He shouted.

After downing another drink, they headed back to the dance floor. Clayton loosened up some, but he was still way off rhythm.

"I gotta go take a leak," he shouted after a couple more songs.

"Sure, bathroom's over there," Angel shouted, pointing.

Before he could tell what was going on, Clayton grabbed the sides of his face and brought him in for a sloppy kiss. His crew hooted in drunken frat boy-style approval.

Angel had no time to react before Clayton stumbled off the dance floor. He just stood there, stunned. Sure, he had had a crush on Clayton for ages, but this wasn't how he wanted the hookup to go down. He didn't necessarily need anything romantic, but he wanted it to at least feel like… something. Like it meant something, even if the meaning was just that they were both horny. Instead, all it felt like was that Clayton was doing it for the camera.

He walked off the dance floor, going to lean against a wall. Clayton's cameraman followed him, and Angel hated it. He wanted a chance to think, but he had to smile for the camera.

Clayton emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, and spotted Angel. He grabbed Angel's hand and practically dragged him over to a bench.

"Hey, you should dance for us," Clayton said, almost collapsing onto the bench.

"I've been dancing!" Angel laughed.

"No, like, you should give me a lapdance or something!" Clayton shouted.

"Um… I don't really do that outside of work," Angel said, laughing again, though this time it was tinged with anxiety.

"C'mon, it'll be good content!" Clayton said.

"Strip! Strip! Strip!" His cameraman started chanting.

"C'mere," Clayton yanked on Angel's hand. Angel lost his balance and stumbled, almost falling on Clayton's lap.

"Take it off!" The cameraman shouted as Clayton grabbed at Angel's shirt.

"Stop," Angel said, shoving Clayton's hand away.

"C'mon, one little lapdance," Clayton slurred, sticking a hand on Angel's crotch.

"Fuck OFF!" Angel shouted, pushing Clayton hard and standing up.

"Uh oh, made him mad," the cameraman jeered, coming in close with the Go Pro.

"Get that out of my fucking face!" Angel shouted, swatting it out of the cameraman's hand. It hit the floor with an audible crack.

"Hey, you're gonna break my camera," Clayton whined.

"Good!" Angel shouted, kicking the camera across the floor. He didn't wait for Clayton to react. He wanted out of the bar, now. He stumbled towards the door, and out into the muggy night air. He stomped down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction from where they'd all parked to get to the bar.

He accidentally hip-checked a public trash can, which wobbled, and then spilled. He let out a guttural shriek of frustration, walking away from it before anyone on the street could say anything. He rounded a corner and spotted a bus stop bench, collapsing onto it.

He bent over, his head between his knees. He felt like he was going to puke, but it never came. There was nothing in his stomach to puke up. He'd starved himself all day, hoping that he'd get to hook up.

Well, that definitely wasn't going to happen.

He fought back tears. He didn't want to cry on a public street. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He knew he should get an uber, but he couldn't stop himself from opening up Instagram. There, right at the top of his feed, was a picture of himself at Broadway. Clayton had posted it, and tagged him in the post. His notifications were going crazy as people began to follow his account.

He closed the app, pressing the top edge of his phone against his forehead. He wanted to throw the thing across the street, but knew better.

He felt betrayed. Not like he'd ever had any trust in Clayton - they didn't even know each other - but he'd at least figured Clayton for a good person. He guessed that was why people always said you should never meet your heroes.

He needed to talk to someone. He needed to vent. He needed someone to tell him that it would be alright, that he was more than what he made himself out to be online.

There was only one person he could think of that would do that. Or at least had the potential to do that.

He opened up the phone app and dialed a number. As always, the phone rang for a long time before it was finally picked up.

"Demie?" He asked in a shaking voice.

#writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #gay fiction #lgbt fiction #original characters #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

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liugeaux · 4 years

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The Master of Blasting

Months ago, once I realized my Retron had a save-state feature, something got into me. I realized I could go back to old retro games and actually finish them. Sure, I played 100s of games in the 8 & 16-bit eras, but I’ve never been that good at anything with a steep difficulty. Most games of the late-80s, early 90s were punishingly tough and typically, without cheat codes I never got to see the end of them.

After playing through all the old Donkey Kong Country games and Sonic the Hedgehog 1, I turned my eye towards a peculiar series I had only dabbled in before, Blaster Master. With the release of Blaster Master Zero on Switch, I was extra interested in diving into the well-regarded B-tier NES original.

With a little research, I found that a total of 8 Blaster Master games have been released...that’s when the classic Sergio completist kicked in. I convinced myself that I shouldn’t play the new Switch games until I’ve completed all of the retro titles. When I began my journey I didn’t realize it would be such a headache. Here’s my run-through of all the Blaster Master Games.

1988 - Blaster Master (NES)

Ah, the original. This little game has a charm to it that most games of the late 80′s don’t have. It was clearly inspired by Nintendo published games like Metroid and Zelda. Blaster Master’s key gimmick is the ability to play as the armored tank Sophia the 3rd or as an on-foot character named Jason, the pilot of the tank. As needed, Jason jumps out of the tank and enters human-sized doors.

Blaster Master is a 2D platformer, but once Jason enters a door, the game switches to an overhead perspective for navigation through maze-like dungeons. None of the mazes are particularly hard to solve, but all of the game’s bosses are found in these dungeons. As a kid, having a game that completely switched perspectives was rad. I never owned it as a child, but I vividly remember my time with it through rentals and such.

This first game is super hard and I found myself using known glitches to get past the game’s harder boss sequences. In true Metroidvania-style, there’s heavy backtracking throughout Blaster Master and if you don’t know where you’re going getting to the next level can be quite annoying. Having played the whole game, I can finally say that despite a super strong first impression, Blaster Master isn’t that great.

It's WAY too hard and by the halfway point the luster had worn off the unique gameplay. For some reason, this is the point where I decided to dive headfirst into the rest of the Blaster Master games. I’m a glutton for punishment I guess.

1991 - Blaster Master Boy (Game Boy)

Prior to playing the original, I had no idea there were so many titles in this series. I definitely didn’t know there were multiple portable entries. Blaster Master Boy is less a Blaster Master game and more a Bomberman game. Technically its a sequel to the Bomberman spin-off Robo-Warrior. A quick trip over to Youtube can confirm that the gameplay and music are lifted directly from Robo-Warrior. To add even more confusion, in Japan, Robo-Warrior was called Bomber-King, Blaster Master Boy was Bomber-King Scenario 2 and it wasn’t even published by the same company.

Because of this weirdness, I didn’t spend too much time with Blaster Master Boy. It also didn’t help that there isn’t a decently priced copy anywhere on the internet.

1993 - Blaster Master 2 (Genesis)

Five years after the original, Blaster Master returned to the console market with Blaster Master 2. It was a Sega Genesis exclusive and the only title in the series released in the 16-bit era. Playing this immediately after the original really made it quite hard. The controls aren’t as precise and the difficultly level is somehow ratcheted up. Blaster Master 2 is a more straight forward platformer without the backtracking of a traditional Metroidvania.

Unlike the first game, when you enter the human sections of the game, you don’t start a top-down sequence. Instead, the pilot levels are 2D platform shooter areas. All of these seem half-baked, clunky and compared to the game’s contemporaries, quite sad. Fortunately, top-down gameplay wasn’t completely abandoned, before the end of each level there’s an odd top-down sequence, where you pilot Sophia. This mechanic never returns in future games, but taking the rest of the game into consideration, it really isn’t terrible.

Unfortunately, there’s not much good to say about Blaster Master 2, It hits most of the design notes that the first one hits but the entire experience feels like it was made by a completely different team. Funny enough, after saying that, I looked it up and Blaster Master 2 was, in fact, made by a completely different team. Ha!

The game’s only saving grace is its vivid color pallet and solid sprite design. Like the first game, the music solid, but unless you’re taking a trip through the whole series like me, Blaster Master 2 can be skipped.

2000 - Blaster Master: Enemy Below (Game Boy Color)

It took Sunsoft awhile to get around to the Blaster Master series again, but in 2000 they came out swinging. Blaster Master: Enemy Below was released for Game Boy Color and of all the games on this list, it is the game that most resembles the original. Much of the art is designed to look nearly identical to the NES games’, even down to a nearly pixel-perfect recreation of the SOPHIA tank.

The top-down Jason segments return as does the extreme difficulty and fantastic soundtrack. It’s hard to really complain about the execution of this title. It was clearly an attempt at just trying to make the closest thing they could to the original and in many ways, it is a tighter and more consistent experience. Unfortunately, that’s also a strike against it. Enemy Below doesn’t bring anything new to the table. The bosses are basic re-hashes of the originals, the levels feel like a “lost levels” DLC pack and the game being portable doesn’t really encourage innovation.

I guess the coolest thing I can say about Enemy Below is that it's still available for purchase. On the 3DS Virtual Console, you can pick up Enemy Below for about $5. At that price, it’s easy to recommend, especially since it comes with built-in save-state functionality.

2001 - Blaster Master: Blasting Again (Playstation)

Also, released in 2000 (in Japan, 2001 in North America), is the weirdest game in the series to date, Blaster Master: Blasting Again. For those of you too young to remember, the Playstation/N64 era of video games was full of 2D series trying their hand at 3D games. Blasting Again is an egregious example of this frustrating industry trend. You still pilot a tank, with all the same features, like homing missiles, and hover, but you’re dropped into a fully realized 3D world with painfully bad anime cut-scenes.

The “Jason” sequences are still here, but they too are 3D and mundanely boring. Also, with this being an official sequel to the original, you play as Jason’s son Roddy, not Jason. Much of the music from earlier in the series is remixed, and rerecorded, so not all is lost in the odd one-off. Unfortunately, the antiquated tank controls and punishing difficulty makes Blasting Again hard to recommend. I was able to play it on PS3 with no issues, but the toggle switch for the digital and analog controls was initially hard to find.

I ended up sinking about 40 hours into finally beating this tragedy. I wasn’t able to use save states and despite it being objectively bad, I grew to love it’s janky and unfair presentation. As a whole, these games have really tested my ability to control my anger, but Blasting Again was the first one to truly get all the way under my skin.

2010 - Blaster Master: Overdrive (WiiWare)

Notice, I have yet to say any of these games are good, that’s because they aren’t. What they have is a charm to them that conjures the aura of the scrappy beginnings of gaming and the forced appreciation of only owning 4 games that had no checkpoints. Thus far, despite initial misgivings, I’ve enjoyed my time on this journey. Blaster Master: Overdrive is where that joy ended. The fun I was having with the series was taken out back, brutally beaten, and left to die in the town square as an example to anyone daring to play this absolute nightmare.

Overdrive starts innocently enough. It does it’s best to try and evoke the gameplay and tone of the original and for what it's worth the art style isn’t terrible. The Sophia and Jason gameplay loops are in-tact and even the gun-upgrades are more important than ever. Where Overdrive falls apart is its difficulty and embarrassing lack of control options.

I’m sure most of you are at least familiar with the Wii-Remote. With this being a Wii-Ware only game, it could only be played with the Wii-Remote. The real downside is that the developer either ran out of time or opted not to explore the myriad of control options the Wii offered. There’s no classic controller support, no Gamecube controller support, there’s not even a way to map buttons to a nun-chuck. You are stuck playing with the Wii-Remote turned sideways.

This wouldn’t be that big of a deal if they had found a better way to implement strafing into the controls. To strafe, the player must hold the B button. That’s the button underneath the Wii-Remote. In a world where the player is using the remote like an old-school NES controller, B button usage is a legit finger-bending-nightmare. Couple this broken control scheme with punishing difficulty and you have the perfect recipe for rage-quitting. I‘m not proud of my behavior during my time with this game and let’s just say I own 1 less Wii-Remote now.

The last thing I want to say about Overdrive is less about the game itself and more about its availability. The Wiiware marketplace is 100% closed, which means there’s no legit way to purchase this game, outside of buying someone’s Wii who had already bought it. This is an ominous foreshadowing of things to come. I would have paid for this game. Hell, I’m deep enough into this BM adventure I would have paid a premium to play this dumb game, but Nintendo’s shut-down of the Wii-Ware shop is a low-key attack on game preservation that us archivist, CANNOT forget. *steps off of soap-box*

2017 - Blaster Master Zero (Switch/Steam)

With the release of Blaster Master Zero, the series got the most attention it’s had since the original game. Most of that attention was because Zero was basically a launch game for the Switch. The best way to describe Zero is to say that it’s developer Inti’s attempt to take the Blaster Master formula and actually make a decent game. For the most part, they succeed. Oddly enough, almost 30 years later, Zero is the first legitimately good Blaster Master game.

Much like Enemy Below, Zero tries its hardest to evoke the look of the original NES game. Some refer to games like this as pixel art, others refer to it as lazy...I float somewhere in the middle on it. It was great playing a Blaster Master game with a proper controller where the mechanics actually work. However, it was frustrating seeing a game, based on a design aesthetic that hit its ceiling in the late 80s, try to beautify itself. Many attempts were made to make the design stand out, but it just kept hitting the ceiling established by its predecessors.

Alternately, by Inti making the game super-playable, the flaws of the older games stand out even more than before. Typically, good Metroidvania’s have an intuitive way of hinting at where you need to go next or a good way of telling you what access you’re new power-ups give you. Due to Zero’s obsession with evoking the original, that intuitive gameplay is replaced with a red box on the map screen. This turns the game into a “drive to red box, shoot things, drive to next red box and shoot more things, experience”, rather than the naturally explorative nature of other games in its genre. The anime story seemed unnecessary from the start, but I’m sure someone will enjoy it.

While playing Zero I honestly asked myself, “Is this game way easier than the older games, or can I finally control this little tank properly?” I’m sure the real answer is somewhere between those two extremes, but ultimately Zero was a blast, albeit WAY too easy. I’m really looking forward to seeing how the sequel improves upon this wonderful jumping-off point. However, I’m positive I’ll be disappointed that more wasn’t done to bring the series into the modern 2D-platforming space.

2019 - Blaster Master Zero 2 (Switch)

Zero 2 is very much a sequel to Zero. In true anime fashion, the story immediately gets super self-serious and consequently superfluous. I’m sure some players will love the dialog between protagonist Jason and all of the various anime-faced characters, but that’s not what I’m here for. Needless to say, the story gets involved in ways other Blaster Master games haven’t. That’s not a strike against it, it’s just a characteristic that may not actually matter.

All previous mechanics are intact here and new ones are introduced almost immediately. If Zero was truly the first good Blaster Master game, then the refinements introduced in Zero 2 make it...wait for it...THE BEST BLASTER MASTER GAME EVER MADE! It controls well, the levels are interestingly built, and where previous sequels in the series lacked innovation, Zero 2 is full of cool and weird, new stuff. The bosses are fresh and interesting, the Jason sequences have been enhanced with a brand new counter mechanic and the space travel segments add a level of depth not seen in previous games.

I hate that I’m being so positive about the game. It’s been so much fun talking shit about Blaster Master games. Unlike the previous game, developer Inti found a way to modernize the gameplay and still make a genuinely challenging experience. I had trouble with multiple bosses, but never did I feel like the game was unfair, or something was broken. Many of the additions to the story also benefited the gameplay. Something as simple as making the Frog from the original game the reason Jason can immediately leave dungeons serves both the story and gameplay.

This has been a long journey, and the real hero is Inti Creates. Hopefully, Zero and Zero 2 have done well. The work put in by Inti deserves praise. They have perfected a formula that’s been pending since 1988. Both titles are only $10 on the Switch shop, and at that price, you are basically stealing them. Anyone with a Switch has no reason not to pick at least one of them up and check it out.

As for the series itself...I have very mixed feelings. There are very few good Blaster Master games. It's a series that trades in loose nostalgia for a widely forgotten NES game. From that, a bunch of often half-hearted sequels were developed trying to capitalize on the little bit of cache the original game still has. I don’t regret my time with the series and I think more titles deserve the Blaster Master treatment, but subjectively, I wouldn’t recommend anyone pick up any games outside of the original and the 2 newest Switch titles.

#blaster master #blaster master zero #blaster master enemy below #blaster master blasting again #blaster master overdrive #blaster master 2 #blaster master zero 2 #blaster master boy

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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The Choppers

It’s teenage crime spree time! With Arch Hall Sr. writing and producing, Arch Hall Jr. starring, and Bruno VeSoto supporting, the result is sure to be MST3K-worthy. All it’s missing is Ray Dennis Steckler, but I guess one can’t have everything.

America’s youth is its greatest resource, and those youth are in danger of growing up into criminals. Witness our antagonists here: Cruiser, Torch, Ben, Flip, and Snooper. They drive around in a truck full of chickens, taking apart random cars and selling the pieces to Moose, a grouchy and unscrupulous junkyard owner. The cops are baffled, but sooner or later the young thugs are bound to make a fatal mistake – and theirs comes when they girl they decide to sexually harass turns out to be the secretary of an insurance investigator. At around the same time, Moose gets tired of their attitude and decides to turn them in. Looks like the Choppers have chopped their last, uh… chop, I guess.

I’m sure you all want to know whether Arch Hall Jr. sings in this movie. He does, but not until forty-five minutes in when I really had begun to hope I’d escaped him. The piece is actually kind of catchy although not particularly memorable, but I may be in a forgiving mood because the first musical number in the movie was so much worse. It’s performed by an elderly guy who works at Moose’s junkyard, and not only is he a bad singer, but what starts out sounding like a boy scout campfire ditty turns out to be a mournful country song about his divorce. It made me long for the comparatively sweet strains of I Love You Vickie.

The photography here is notably terrible. Almost the entire movie takes place outdoors in harsh desert sunshine because I think they didn’t actually have any lights. Indoor scenes are kind of dim and night scenes are completely indecipherable – although I think somebody didn’t believe a practically pitch-black screen was enough to convince us it was night, because there are also lots of loud cricket noises. There’s a bit where the Choppers vandalize a guy’s car because he took their parking spot and it’s almost impossible to see anyone’s faces or tell who’s talking.

The acting is sort of indifferently bad. Arch Hall Jr. is Arch Hall Jr., where everything he says sounds kind of stagey and dumb, and nobody else is much better. The twenty-somethings playing the young criminals use hip slang in a way that suggests they have no idea what these words actually mean. Arch Hall Sr. continues to believe he can build his son into a teen heartthrob, and so he shows us things like Cruiser’s pasty chest and belly as he lounges by a pool.

You say you didn’t need that screencap? Well, I didn’t need the shot it came from.

Most of the screen time in the movie is spent on the Choppers as they take apart cars, play or listen to bad music, argue with each other, and harass women. The supposed heroes aren’t on screen nearly so much, but that’s okay because they are stunningly un-likeable. There are a couple of bland cops, but the ones who are really our protagonists are inept insurance investigator Tom Hart and his nagging girlfriend Liz. Tom comes across as an oblivious dope, while Liz constantly whines that she’s tired of fighting crime and wants to go home and eat.

Tom never redeems himself, but Liz gets a couple of moments. She’s the one who notices that feathers keep turning up at the crime scenes, and when she recognizes Cruiser’s car at a drive-in she is able to keep him staring at her boobs long enough for her to memorize the license plate number. Naturally at the climax, she is not present and Tom, who did pretty much nothing all movie, gets all the credit for catching the gang. The movie doesn’t make anything out of this because it doesn’t see anything wrong with it.

Which of course brings us to the fact that The Choppers hates women something fierce. There are only two we can actually be said to meet: Cruiser’s empty-headed girlfriend Gypsy (I know a bot who would be righteously angry at this name choice) is there to hang around in a bathing suit and be dumb. The movie can’t decide how much she does or doesn’t know about his criminal hobbies – she seems to help vandalize the car in the parking lot, but then becomes the damsel in distress at the final shootout. Liz nags, mocks, and generally treats Tom terribly, and at the end her competence is treated as his accomplishment.

Several of the five boys have backstories that depend on absent fathers – Cruiser’s was killed in WWII, Torch’s is an alcoholic, and Snooper has had a series of uninterested stepfathers. The implication is that a single mother cannot possibly raise a boy. He needs a father to turn him into a man (this is as near as stated aloud when a reporter attempts to interview Torch’s drunken father on the radio). The only moment involving a woman that doesn’t reek of misogyny is when the boys harass a waitress and she blows them off.

If we’re gonna talk about fathers and sons… this is another movie Arch Hall Sr. made to try to build up his son’s career, and another movie in which the two of them are at odds. They never actually meet in The Choppers, but the reporter played by Hall Sr. comments on how intelligent and talented the boys are and how much they could have accomplished if they’d only had the chance to live up to their potential. Once again, it’s really, really tempting to try to do some psychoanalysis here, as if Arch Hall Sr. was using his films to tell the world how disappointed he was with his son. I don’t know these people, of course, but that’s definitely the impression I get.

The main theme in The Choppers is one I’ve already dealt with, the idea that a boy without a father will become a criminal, stuck forever in the stage of life where rule-breaking is fun and consequences are things that happen to other people. There seems to be a level on which the boys have adopted Moose as a sort of substitute father – he has encouraged and taught them in their criminal endeavours, and while he and they argue and threaten each other, they are honestly shocked by his eventual betrayal. In the end, Moose abandons them just as their biological fathers have done.

There also seems to be some attempt to talk about class. All the Choppers seem to come from underprivileged backgrounds except for Cruiser, who has a backyard pool and a fancy car. This puts him in the same category as Paula from The Violent Years, in that we’re given no good reason why he does this besides what his says to the reporter at the end: “we had a ball.” Like Paula, Cruiser is the leader of the gang, but unlike her, he does not participate in the actual crimes. Instead, Cruiser and his fancy car serve as lookouts – his upper-class origin allows him to be in charge without having to get his hands dirty, and there are signs that the rest of the boys resent this. When they are all cornered at the end, it’s Cruiser who suggests giving up while Torch prefers to go down fighting. Unlike the others, he’s not sufficiently invested in this to die for it.

What the movie is trying to say here is that money is not a substitute for good parenting, and privileged boys can still fall into crime if their fathers aren’t there for them. What it manages to imply is that even in crime being rich gives you a head start and can make you a leader regardless of actual leadership qualities.

So this movie is really, really bad, and doesn’t deal very well with its thematic material – but that’s not to say there’s no entertainment value to be found here. It’s never funny when it tries to be, of course. There’s an attempt at a running joke with Snooper wondering if he’d be more attractive to women if he wore contact lenses, which will make you shudder if you know what contact lenses were like in the 50’s and early 60’s. The humour that works in The Choppers is naturally the unintentional kind, to be found in the bad acting and the unwieldy chicken truck.

My favourite moment is when Cruiser, talking on a candy-striped walkie-talkie the size of a dachshund, tells his cronies to give the police “the farmer routine”. Flip and Snooper immediately pull a couple of cowboy hats out of fucking nowhere and put them on, and I almost did a real-life spit take. This feels like the kind of thing that would have fascinated the Best Brains. I can imagine Joel, Crow, and Tom whipping their own Stetsons out from under the theatre seats to wear for the rest of the scene (Servo would have needed help with his) and every subsequent appearance of a cop being greeted with, “quick, put on your cowboy hats!” It would definitely be the stinger.

Talking about having a favourite Arch Hall Jr. movie is like talking about having a favourite kind of turd to eat, but insofar as the statement means anything, The Choppers is my second-favourite of his movies I’ve seen so far. It’s less misogynistic than Eegah! (not a high bar) and doesn’t have nearly as much crappy music as Wild Guitar (accomplished by simply having less music). My favourite Arch Hall Jr. movie is The Sadist, which I actually don’t consider bad enough for this blog. In The Sadist Hall Jr. played a serial killer, and he was pretty terrifying. If he’d had more roles like that (with directors who were not his father and could actually coach good performances out of him) he might have been a decent character actor.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the choppers #sorry about my face #60s

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theashemarie · 5 years

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Demo Brew Ch. 1 | Pearlina

☆ Reblogs appreciated! ☆

↪Chapter 2: [The Squid Sisters]

↪Chapter 3: [The Song]

Read one chapter ahead on AO3!

[It starts as a simple bet--Pearl's attempt to prove to her father that she can work a minimum wage job like anyone else. It quickly becomes anything but simple. A web of secrets, a music opportunity, and a chance at love--what could go wrong?]

[The coffee shop AU has always been a favorite trope of mine, so I decided to just go for it. Plus, I love putting my own spin on these things--domesticity and small, meaningful moments are my bread and butter. So, this fic is the culmination of everything I love.

I flubbed the timeline a little in this, but that's mostly to do with the timing of the entrances of certain characters. This story still takes place in the world of Splatoon--there's just a little bit of a timing change, and Callie and Marie enjoy secrets more. As a result, I've tried to follow a bit of the inkling/octoling anatomy (mostly the inclusion of three hearts and the avoidance of any reference to bones). Just a heads up.]

Chapter 1: The Bet

Here’s the deal: Pearl got this job to make a point. Her father said, “You wouldn’t last one week in a dead-end, minimum wage job,” and Pearl, competitive and aggressive to a fault said, “WANNA BET!!” in a voice that was all capital letters and begged more than one exclamation point. So, she trotted her little ass to the nearest over-priced coffeeshop and applied, right there, on the spot. The owner, Callie, hired her immediately, because she liked her fighting spirit and wanted a cut of Pearl’s hundred thousand gold winnings if she pulled it off.

That was two months ago.

Pearl doesn’t know why she stayed. (That’s a lie. She stayed because Callie needed her. With Marie off to Calamari County to care for their aged (“Not decrepit!” Cap’n Cuttlefish declared as Marie guided him out over six weeks ago) grandfather until such a time as he stopped trying to get into the sewers (don’t ask), Callie was down half her staff. Pearl stayed because Callie gave her the sad eyes, the big ones that looked like a sunset on the ocean.) Her father upped the ante—an extra fifty thousand gold for every week she stayed—but she doesn’t need the money. Not really. Her allowance is building steadily in her account and she still lives at home, where her every need is taken care of. She doesn’t take Callie’s money because she doesn’t need it, so she’s working for free. “Volunteer work,” Callie assures her, “it looks good on your resume.”

Fresh Start is a small place, with only a handful of tables and no to-go window. There’s exactly two people who work there—Callie and Marie, co-owners and cousins, who somehow had enough money to open a coffeeshop in the middle of Inkopolis Plaza, the richest area of the city. There’s a decently sized pastry case and their sweets rotate every day of the week so you can never get the same thing two days in a row. Their savory offerings are mostly sandwiches, though Callie is looking into learning how to make flatbread pizzas. Callie handles most of the paperwork while Marie seems to enjoy working the counter, especially the fancy espresso machine. Overall, it’s a small place, a blip on most people’s morning and evening commutes, but there’s something about the familiar, friendly atmosphere and staff that keeps people coming back.

Pearl beginning to think that this is a distraction. Her father doesn’t approve of her sudden swerve into the punk scene, mostly because he doesn’t like to see his little princess wearing so much black, but she isn’t just going to drop that for some stressful job. Sure, Callie is great to work with, but the customers can be awful, especially because they’re smack in the middle of Inkopolis Plaza, where all the fifteen-year-olds obsessed with sports come after turf wars. You don’t know true brats until you’re face to face with a sweaty fifteen-year-old who has to have their latte with exactly two and a half pumps of sweetener in it, and Pearl is the queen of brats so she can say that.

So yeah, the punk gig. She still does it. Late at night, when her dad is out of town usually. She’s twenty-years-old and still sneaking out of the house. The irony isn’t lost on her.

This is all to say, Pearl is ready to jump ship as soon as she can. The second Marie steps foot back into the store, she’s peaceing out and collecting her check from the International Bank of Dad, splitting it with Callie (because she’s not about to renege on that deal), and never looking back. The world needs to hear her music, and, really, she just wants to scream into a mic at the pit of night. Is that too much to ask?

Then, predictably, things change. Marina walks in, and Pearl finds herself returning to the shop, even after Marie has given up on keeping their grandfather out of the sewer (don’t ask).

Pearl realizes that she’s in love with Marina about two days after meeting her. It isn’t a surprise. She falls in love a lot—with hips and large, gentle hands and sleep-heavy limbs and bright, alive eyes and long legs and long hair and short hair and sometimes even with a laugh. She isn’t picky. She falls in love with pieces of people all the time. The most recent one, a fling of a relationship on the road with her band, was a girl who loved human fashion; Pearl fell in love with the way she wore her old-fashioned hats, cocked to one side, tentacles cut short into a bob. She really liked the bob. She might have copied the bob.

Of course, relationships with pieces of people never work out. But, Pearl always reasons, she’s young, she’s wild, she’s got piercings, and she’s disappointing her father with her screamy music. Her bandmates don’t get along and it seems like they’re sick of her, but she doesn’t let that get her down; typical punk stuff, she’s assured herself. She’s going through a phase where she’s allowed to only love fractions of individuals. It’s not healthy, but she’s coping, more than anything, with broken hearts. She always has at least one broken heart.

Until, of course, Marina walks in, orders her coffee from Marie with a soft, accented voice, and Pearl has to try very hard to keep her eyes in her head.

“That’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Pearl hisses to Marie, as she turns to froth up some milk for a latte. “Do you know her?”

“Her name’s Marina,” Marie answers, uninterested, in her own world. She’s always like that—like she’s far away, thinking about some other reality, some other world. Calamari County or something. Man, these country people.

“You actually know her?” Pearl demands.

Marie smiles then, a small thing, and holds up the paper cup, treating Pearl to her slanted handwriting—Marina.

“Oh,” Pearl says, and sounds just as foolish as she feels. “What’d she order?”

“Green tea latte. You can go talk to her, y’know. I won’t tell Mom.”

She’s talking about Callie, who has a strict no flirting policy after an unfortunate incident involving Marie and a dare—chain flirting for tips, which Pearl let her keep, just because she actually did it; she even flirted with the tiny horseshoe crab that owns the weapon shop. Pearl swore he was thisclose to hiding in his shell. It was especially hilarious because Pearl knows that Marie is like her—she falls for girls, sometimes boys, but mostly, Marie maintains, she loves food. Pearl can respect that.

“But, she’s so...” Pearl glances in Marina’s direction. She’s standing at the pickup counter, scrolling through her phone. She’s got on an oversized sweatshirt and tight leggings with boots that Pearl immediately wants for her own wardrobe. She also has large, expensive headphones over her ears. But, most notable is her hair. It’s so different from what she’s used to seeing in the plaza, where being fresh means having one of two haircuts. And it moves so fluidly, like a silk sheet being spread over a bed.

“She’s so...?” Marie prompts.

“She’s so... out of my league!” Pearl moans, modulating her tone so that she can’t be heard over the percolating coffee pot. It comes out as a low whine.

Marie glances back at Marina and then back to Pearl, at her dark, but designer clothes, and her pink-tinged bob, and then at her boots. “If you say so,” she says, and then turns to slide the latte across the counter. “Marina, this one’s yours.”

The first time Pearl gets up the nerve to talk to Marina, the Squid Sisters are playing over the radio, which gives her the opening she wants. Marina always has those headphones, so she has to know her stuff about music—and anybody who’s anybody knows the Squid Sisters.

The greatest mystery of Inkopolis, the Squid Sisters are the most secretive musical act that’s ever hit the mainstream idol scene. They cover their faces at performances and don’t appear on television, which really makes Pearl wonder sometimes. What if she’s passed them on the street? The smoke and mirrors make them even more of a commodity, and then they drop music without warning, as if they exist outside of the laws of record labels. Pearl is something of a fangirl, but everyone is. The Squid Sisters have it all—adoring fans, lots of gigs, and anonymity. Pearl doesn’t quite understand it; she wants to be adored, wants to crowd surf, wants to be approached on the street for autographs, but she can respect the desire to be left alone.

“Turn that off,” Callie says from the back room. She’s never been a huge Squid Sisters fan. But then, she doesn’t seem to like music much on the whole. She and Marie never sing, never dance, just keep their heads down and make coffee. Pearl has been trying to shake them out of it, but they’re both stubborn in their own way.

“No, leave it,” Marie says from where she’s spreading cream cheese on a bagel for someone. She’s got that smirk, the one that she always wears when Callie starts in on the Squid Sisters. “I like this song.”

Callie makes a loud sigh. “Of course you do.”

Fresh Start is mildly busy right now, probably because it’s near lunch, so Pearl is taking orders. Not her favorite job, but it beats making the coffee. And, this way, she can duck into the back if Marina ever shows.

It makes her uneasy, how unsteady Marina makes her feel. Usually, she’s great at this. She makes girls swoon with a bright, sharp smile, and then makes them fall for her with a well-placed hand and simple pickup line. But Marina? She’s scared to talk to her. It’s not normal, and Pearl doesn’t like.

But, also, she’s determined to see her again, at least once, before she quits and returns to her gilded castle of wealth. (There’s always an “I want to see her again” after she sees her again. It’s a never-ending cycle.)

Except, today, when Marina walks in, jangles the bell, Marie refuses to trade Pearl jobs. The Squid Sisters are singing “City of Color” over the speakers and Marie is grinning at her like a shark. “I’m perfectly comfortable right here,” she says, and turns the blender on so Pearl can’t beg further.

“Callie...!” Pearl tries, but then Marina is there, right in front of her. She has on a beanie today, so her headphones are around her neck, and Pearl can see how well-loved they are, just by how discolored the cushioning is.

“I’m up to my elbows in cookie dough! You’re on your own!” Callie yells back. Behind her, she hears Marie snort.

“Hello...?” Marina says, unaware of the power play occurring behind the counter. Pearl forces herself to smile.

“Hi!” she chirps, voice incredibly high-pitched and slightly panicked. There goes her hard-punk exterior. “H-how can I help you?”

Marina hums as she looks up at the menu. She gets something different every day, as if she’s cycling through the whole menu before picking something she really likes. Her finger comes up to tap her bottom lip, which really is unfair. Pearl has to force herself to swallow.

“Iced coffee, please. No sweetener.”

“Iced coffee!” Pearl yells, not because that’s what they do here but because she’s panicked. Marina is so... so pretty... and regal and—and—and...

Okay, so maybe Pearl is a lost cause.

“I heard her,” Marie mumbles from behind her. Above them, the song changes from “City of Color” to “Ink Me Up.” Callie appears, mysteriously free of cookie dough, and goes for the radio.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she declares.

“Oh, please leave it,” Marina calls, looking past Pearl and to Callie. When Pearl, Callie, and Marie all turn to look at her, she fidgets, pulls her hat tighter over her head. “Sorry, it’s just... The Squid Sisters changed my life.”

From anyone else, that would have sounded dramatic, but Marina says it without a single ounce of irony. She looks down at her hands, with their long turquoise tips.

“No problem,” Callie pipes, suddenly back to her happy, chipper, non-Squid Sister self.

“I’m very glad,” Marie puts in, as she appears beside Pearl with an iced coffee in her hands. “I’m very glad that the Squid Sisters helped you.”

Marina doesn’t say anything, merely takes the coffee with a small smile on her face. “How much...?” she asks.

“On the house,” Callie says, and she disappears back into the back room.

After the Great Zapfish goes missing, Callie and Marie leave to care for their grandfather. Something about his weak hearts. They leave Pearl in charge, and she promptly closes the store for half its hours, because there’s no way she can run this place by herself.

She does okay, all told. She considers asking for her father’s help, but she doesn’t want him buying her out of this problem. She needs to figure it out.

Mostly, that involves thanking people for their patience, because she not only has to handle the money, but make the coffee, clean the tables, and wash the dishes. Callie insisted on using real plates and cups unless the drinks were to-go, which left Pearl with large stacks of mugs in the sink at the end of every hour. She’s dealing with it.

Marina appears every day that week, and every time she asks after Callie and Marie. Pearl answers honestly—“I have no idea where they are or when they’re coming back!”—and Marina tries her hardest not to laugh at Pearl’s anxious, out of control energy. They even have real conversations, which is a step up from Pearl’s lovestruck sputterings of a few weeks ago.

“So, what do you do?” Pearl asks today, as she scoops ice into a cup for a frappe.

“...do...?” Marina asks, as if she’s unsure of the word, feeling the sound of it in her mouth.

“Y’know, like for a job?”

“Oh!” Marina laughs at herself, and it’s possibly the cutest thing Pearl’s ever heard. She has to try very hard not to grin stupidly. “I work in retail.” She gestures out the window, in the direction of the Galleria and its overpriced shops. “On the weekends, I’m an indie producer. I do a lot of remixes. I’m working on some Squid Sisters now.”

Pearl feels like she’s been struck by lightning. “You do what? No way! I’m in a band! I knew you were into music!”

“What’s your band called? Maybe I’ve heard of you.”

“Doubt it.” Pearl slams the blender closed and turns it on. They stare at each other for a few seconds as it does its work. “It’s punk,” she continues when it’s done. “Probably not your style.”

Marina shrugs. “Can’t know until I listen. Will you bring me a sample?”

Her eyes are so bright and excited. Pearl can’t feel two of her hearts, they’re pounding so hard. “Yeah,” she says, “I will!”

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #pearlina #ashe talks #ashe writes #demo brew

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gingerandwry · 5 years

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Rio de Janeiro, Brazil - Week 1

The bus ride from Paraty to Rio was easy and uneventful. The road runs along the coast, but unfortunately the view is mostly obscured by overgrowth. I caught some dramatic, beautiful glimpses, but Brazil could learn from California and Australia. Upon arrival at my Ipanema AirBnB, I took a breath then settled in for two weeks of adventure....

My friends Scott and Tony had left Paraty a couple days early to come to Rio, so I met them for drinks and dinner Saturday night. We walked to a lively, popular-with-millenials section of Leblon and ate dinner at CT Boucherie, an established steakhouse-ish restaurant that was fantastic (and a great value for how much we ate and drink). Those guys had had a big night on Friday so we all turned in early.

And it’s good we did since Scott had a full day planned for us. We started at Parque Lage for breakfast at their famous restaurant. It occupies the courtyard of a crumbling mansion (now an art school) and sits just below Rio’s most famous landmark, Christ the Redeemer. It’s a setting made for Instagram, and everyone certainly took advantage of that. The food was pretty tasty for a place that could easily half-ass it. After breakfast we walked around the park a bit and saw our first monkeys!

We then walked through Jardim Botanico, which appears to be the Beverly Hills of Rio. We walked through the Botanical Gardens as well, which are lush and beautiful. I think the most striking element were the massive tree trunks, some of which formed walls rising several feet above the ground.

From here we traveled back to Ipanema’s Praca General Osorio for the famous “Hippie Fair”, an arts and crafts market. I’m not sure what the big deal is-- it seems like every other crafts market I’ve seen. Afterwards the guys went to the beach, but I needed some literal chill time in front of a fan, so I lay low at my apartment for a while. We met up again for dinner at Zaza, a delicious Moroccan restaurant. It was the guys’ last night, but we were all pretty beat, so we called it early after a couple more beers.

Monday was shopping day, both clothes and groceries. I am not a beach person, and I was not prepared for how beached out Rio is. Even at nighttime in nice restaurants, people are in t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops. I needed some more beach wear to fit in (tho I only ended up finding one pair of shorts I liked). I met up with the guys again for lunch at Barraca do Uruguai, the most famous stand at Ipanema beach selling delicious meaty sandwiches. They had to get to the airport so we parted ways and I found myself all alone in Brazil....

On Tuesday I committed to the hard work of tourism. In the morning I took the metro to Centro, the historic center of Rio. I emerged at Rua Uruguaina into a hectic street bazaar. It was initially unnerving but a nice break from laid back Ipanema. Once I got my bearings I climbed up to Morro de Conceicao, a very old, Lisbon-esque street with cute (if shabby) townhouses, and then down to Praca Maua, the waterfront area that was revitalized for the 2016 Olympics. I first visited the Museu de Arte do Rio, housed in a beautiful colonial building attached to a gleaming modern annex. The view over Guanabara Bay is fantastic. The museum was showing two exhibits, one (”Mulheres”) featured women artists and had a lot of compelling pieces. The other was a history of samba. Once again I couldn’t understand the Portuguese captions, but there was enough music, video and glamorous visuals to make it fun nonetheless.

I walked across the plaza to Museu do Amanha (”Tomorrow”), a very modern “science” museum with a lot of interactive video displays and flashy installations for these selfie/social media loving Brazilians. The science was a bit thin; it starts with a brief history of the universe then focuses on humanity’s impact on the planet, for better and worse. But it was engaging.

I then hiked up another hill to the Mosteiro do Sao Bento, a monastery that is one of the city’s oldest buildings. Its plain, humble exterior belies an over-the-top opulence inside, a theme I found in every church I saw that day. Those early Portuguese settlers loved ornate, gilded wall reliefs like you would expect from Louis XIV.

After a tasty chicken burger at the hip Cozinha Mironga I continued toward the waterfront to Igreja de Nossa Senhora Candelaria, the biggest of the city’s historic churches. The surrounding area houses lots of current and former government buildings, most of them imposing neoclassical edifices or fanciful Baroque colonial desserts (or both). I saw the Centro Cultural do Banco do Brasil (tho I skipped the current exhibition of Dreamworks art), Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Carmo da Antiga Se (which served royal functions when the Portguese throne decamped to Brazil) and Paco Imperial (the one-time royal palace). From there I walked through the extremely underwhelming (but historic) Arco de Teles into Travessa do Comercio, a charming cobblestone street of colonial townhouses, now home to outdoor cafes.

From here I cut across the hustling narrow streets of Centro to Largo da Carioca, a plaza surrounding by some atrocious 1960s skyscrapers (tho the Petrobras HQ is a marvel) and dominated by a very old church, Igreja Sao Francisco da Penitencia e Convento de Santo Antonio (phew). It’s beautifully restored and wins the gaudiest award in a very tough category. Not one inch of that chapel was left ungilded, an odd choice for an order who has taken a vow of poverty.

I then headed back up to Real Gabinete Portugues de Leitura, or the Royal Reading Room. It’s basically a library, and one of the most stunning I’ve ever seen. It’s three stories of books (over 350,000) in sumptuous but tasteful, muted decor. You can feel the knowledge surrounding you, and it makes you yearn to have more of it.

From there I veered west into Saara, a small grid of narrow streets that serves as an outdoor market and bazaar. You can probably find anything you need here and at a good price. At the end of it I found Campo de Santana, an elegant park with an odd assemblage of wild beasts-- cats, ducks, some sort of large fowl, and a cute, big rodent creature (capybara?). That was enough for one day so I headed back to Ipanema, had a big, tasty, cheap dinner at Frontera and went home to bed.

On Wednesday I headed back down to Centro to finish my tour. I started at the Museu Historico Nacional. I have a particular interest in history museums because a) I think it’s important to have some background and context when you travel; b) I’m a history nerd; and c) they are difficult to do well since good history requires a lot of text, which is not well-suited to a museum. Rio’s history museum is... decent. Housed in a well-maintained old fort, it could definitely use some refurbishing and some more engaging exhibits. After a respectable space telling the story of the indigenous people, it mostly focuses on the leaders and elites who steered the country from a Portuguese (and Dutch and French) colony into an independent republic. It has little to say about slaves, and I found no mention of the military dictatorship that ruled from the sixties to the eighties. (This is especially problematic given the current president’s favorable, revisionist view of the dictatorship.) But otherwise the narrative seems fair and accurate, if not thorough. It has almost no weighty artifacts, like original documents or “this was the actual thing that person used” items. It is mostly full of examples (of china, jewelry, slave shackles, etc.), paintings (many immense) and busts. Two awesome exceptions are a large array of carriages and early cars spanning three hundred years and an actual historic apothecary that was moved into the museum when it went out of business. I also appreciated that all of the displays had English translations tho they were riddled with errors. It made me wonder why the museum wouldn’t have them proofread before printing them up in a permanent exhibition.

From here I walked back to Praca Floriano (aka Cinelandia) which is the heart of downtown. The plaza is fairly non-descript, but it’s surrounded by some of the city’s most beautiful buildings: Theatro Municipal, Bibliolteca Nacional, Museu Nacional de Belas Artes and Camera Municipal. It was so stunning I stopped for lunch on the square and came back to see it lit up at night (when apparently the navy was attending the opera...).

After lunch I continued west into Lapa, past the iconic Arcos (an old viaduct) and the peculiar Catedral Metropolitana de Sao Sebastio. It’s a brutalist cement cone modeled after Aztec pyramids, and it looks nothing like any church I’ve ever seen (tho not far off from St. Mary’s in San Francisco, aka “The Washing Machine”). After my initial shock and repulsion, I found it growing on me, if only for its boldness and break from tradition. It’s most famous for the tall stain-glassed windows (which are impressive in their size if not beauty), but what stood out to me was the main crucifix. It’s surprisingly small and suspended in the center of the cone about 30 feet above the altar. Jesus looks so vulnerable and alone, floating in an empty void. Of all the gory crucifixion scenes I’ve seen, this more than any other moved me and actually made me sad to think about Jesus’ plight.

I then ventured further into Lapa. Nowadays it’s best known for its rowdy nightlife, and some of the bars were just starting to open up. Like much of Rio (and many Latin American cities), the area had traces of better days but now mostly looks decrepit. I made my way back, under the Arcos and headed to Cinelandia to catch the train home.

Thursday was considerably less ambitious. After a late start, I took the metro to Botafogo. Amid the usual urban grit of Rio are several beautiful old colonial mansions (as well as a notorious favela). I believe it was once an upscale artsy neighborhood that fell into decline, but some of the old buildings have been restored as museums or work spaces. Unfortunately, like so much of the city, they are hidden and inaccessible behind tall walls and fences. One beautiful exception is the Fundacao Casa de Rui Barbosa, once home to a famous writer and politician, now a museum. I didn’t go inside but the gorgeous grounds around the home are open to the public and look like a miniature botanical garden.

I made my way toward the next neighborhood, Humaita, and stopped at Cemiterio Sao Joao Batista, the final resting place for some of Brazil’s most famous residents. It’s quite beautiful and dramatic under the watchful eye of Christ the Redeemer. My last stop was Cobol do Humaita, a food market and dining hall, which are always pleasant to wander. The sun was going down so, after six days in Ipanema, I figured it was time to see the sunset on the beach. Obviously Rio faces East but the light is still nice.

Friday turned out to be my most ambitious day and, painfully, the hottest so far. I returned to lovely Cinelandia and Lapa and visited the famous Escadaria Selaron, a public stairway that has been covered in a colorful tile mosaic in tribute to the people of Brazil. It’s pretty, fun and festive and swarming with tourists. Fortunately most people turn around at the top (if they get that far) instead of continuing into the beautiful Santa Teresa neighborhood. Like Botafogo, it’s full of charming old homes in various states of (dis)repair. But these are not walled off. And they run the gamut from cottages to palaces, so there is a lot of variety, both in architecture and culture. It reminded me of Russian Hill and Telegraph Hill. Also, this being a very steep hill, there are stunning views of the city and the bay from everywhere.

There is not much to do in Santa Teresa besides admire the loveliness, which probably helps keep the tourists away. Parque das Ruinas is the main attraction-- a crumbled mansion once owned by a salon-hosting socialite intellectual. It really feels like ruins, but staircases and walkways have been installed and the surrounding grounds turned into a park. The views from the top are spectacular. The small museum next door (Museu da Chacara do Ceu) hosts a private collection. It sounded interesting but appeared to be closed for construction.

I continued walking through the main commercial area which hosts some charming little boutiques, restaurants and bars (as well as a makeshift barber and a bar perched out on one of the viewpoints). I stopped for fantastic feijoada at Bar do Mineiro and more beer at the historic Bar do Gomes. Then, rather than walk all the way back down, I opted for the bonde, a cute little cable car that runs up and down the hill.

With a little daylight left, I headed back down to Botafogo and then over to Urca for one of Rio’s premiere attractions: Pao de Acucar (Sugarloaf Mountain). It stands tall at the north end of Copacabana and offers stunning views over the entire city and bay. It’s accessible by a sequence of two cable cars (gondolas), teetering at dizzying heights. It was crowded, as I expected at sunset, but not actually that bad. I stayed up there a while soaking in the “Marvelous City” and, like everyone else, taking tons of photos.

It was my first Friday night in the city, and I had nothing to do, which would have been a shame. But a guy I had been chatting with invited me to Paraiso do Tuiuti, a samba school. I demurred, concerned that I would not understand the instructions in Portuguese. But my friend then explained that it’s not a school so much as a club that performs sambas. The schools are formed in the favelas and compete at Carnaval every year. Friday night Paraiso was having a big birthday party and putting on a show for their friends.

The Paraiso clubhouse is across the street from Feira de Sao Cristovao, a kind of permanent country fair. It’s home to dozens of stalls selling all sorts of stuff, but at night, it’s mostly just restaurants and bars with a lot of karaoke. There is also a main stage with the kind of cheesy acts you would expect at a fair. And the crowd was overwhelmingly under 30, maybe 25. It was cute good times but I was not sorry to leave when my friend arrived.

The Paraiso do Tuiuti building is a big auditorium, not unlike a high school gym. A large samba band was in full swing in the corner of the mezzanine, and various people in uniforms, outfits and costumes were milling amongst the hundreds of guests. It all felt very festive, intimate and personable. A little later the performances started. My friend explained that each year at Carnaval each school performs a new samba and competes for first place (the schools are also organized like sports leagues with a top tier, mid tier, etc.). Paraiso do Tuiuti was performing their greatest hits that night in honor of their birthday (with songs going back to the 80s), and once they were done, a couple other schools-- Estacio de Sa and Mangueira (last year’s winners)-- performed as well. The whole experience was phenomenal and unforgettable-- the rhythms, the leg work, the costumes, the energy. It was a fantastic, only-in-Brazil night that a tourist can only hope to stumble upon.

Since I did not get home until 6am, Saturday and Sunday were my lazy days off before I returned to the tourist trail the next week....

#riodejaneiro #brazil #brasil #travel #gaytravel #intentionaltravel

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brutcllysoft · 3 years

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4th of july ft. @becamedcath

setting: a boutique in LA, july 2015

ROWAN

Rowan knows she’s in trouble. In fact, trouble doesn’t even feel like a big enough word to describe the situation she’s found herself in. Against all of the odds and all of her preconceived notions, she finds herself drawn to Andy. The last few months have been nothing short of bizarre and as much as she’d hated to admit it back in May, after she got to know Andy a little better he isn’t that bad. He isn’t what she’d thought he was --- it’d taken a little time for them to get used to each other, for her to begin to chip away at the walls that surrounded him and get to see glimpses of who he really is, not the image that’s portrayed to the media. He’s sweet, in the biggest twist of events --- grown to be nice to her now that they don’t want to kill each other, he makes her laugh, and he keeps her on her toes which she loves. Her stomach twists into knots at the thought and she knows she’s in trouble because she’s starting to kind of think of him as her boyfriend and not her business partner. She’s fucked.

And even more so because it’s like she never knows where they really stand anymore. Sometimes she thinks she’ll catch his eye and see something --- like maybe he’s having the same thoughts she is, like he wants to push things further and say fuck the contract but then one of them will blink and they’re back to shy glances and sheepish smiles over fret boards and sheet music. They’re in California this week, the label holding 4th of July party at their Los Angeles location. The hotel they’ve been put up in is nice enough, and though the party doesn’t officially start for another few hours, Rowan’s stylist and his team have been in her room since noon, working their magic. She thinks she looks fine. Her hair and make up aren’t a problem, though they rarely are aside from that few months back in 2012 that her stylist thought 2001 Justin Timberlake curls should be brought back. She’s not exactly fond of the dress, though, a little disappointed that they’ve put her in pink yet again despite the fact that she’s trying to break out of the Bumpkin Barbie prototype. But it’d been the best out of all the options she had been presented with and she doesn’t look bad. Just different than how she’d like. But her thoughts are stolen from her when there’s a knock on her hotel room, a giddy feeling filling her when she knows it’s Andy --- and following quickly after is guilt because she shouldn’t be feeling that. She swallows it back though, opening the door.

“Hey---” she can’t stop her smile from falling when she catches sight of him. Not because he looks bad --- he always looks good, she’s come to realize, and she kind of hates him for it. A few weeks ago they’d taken a red eye to New York City and he’d looked as handsome as ever while she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed (which, to be fair, she had). However, his choice of clothes is cause for concern. She knows he’s got an image to uphold but the party has a strict dress code for cocktail attire and she doesn’t think his ripped jeans and leather jacket are really going to make the cut, causing her to let out a quiet breath. “Andy,” his name comes out in a slight whine, the stress evident in her. It’s not that she really cares what he dresses like because honestly, she doesn’t. But the party is a good opportunity for both of them to rub elbows with new people and the last thing she wants is for the two of them to end up on TMZ for the wardrobe faux paux. “Please tell me you’re kidding and you’ve got something you’re going to change into before we leave. Didn’t Chris tell you about the dress code?

ANDY

The last thing Andy had ever expected to happen to him was to fall for Rowan Fisher. She’s not his type, she’s someone he would scoff at if they hadn’t been thrown into this PR stunt together. And yet, in the last four months, they’d become friends, actually managing to find common ground and create a relationship with one another that didn’t begin and end with snide comments. He finds himself looking forward to each time they’re together, wanting to soak up every minute that they have. He had assumed she was just what the media portrayed her as, but as they spent more and more time together -- The truth became more apparent: They’re more alike than he thought. It had been enjoyable when they reached a friendship, but now… He couldn’t look at her without knots forming in his stomach, without taking a second look in the mirror to fix his hair. The word crush isn’t what he would call it, mostly because he’s scared to admit to something like that, but there’s no denying just what it is. Andy keeps the thought to himself, playing it cool whenever they’re together, knowing that if he lets his own feelings seep into this, it could fuck up their contract -- And he’s not about to have Rowan Fisher’s legal team come after him for a crush.They’re getting ready for some bullshit party the label is putting on for the holiday, all about networking and setting off fireworks or some shit. Andy’s not entirely sure, but his first single had come out a week prior, and already shot him to the top of the charts -- So tonight was immensely important, and they had to be on their A-game, even if they were going to be stuck with industry snobs. At least there was an open bar.

He knows Rowan is probably being held hostage by her hair and make up team, who are surely forcing her to dress like a neon puff pastry. Mostly it was just an excuse to see her before they have to go and put on smiling faces for Greg Sullivan and his band of merry misfits. He spends five minutes standing in the mirror before leaving his dressing room, fixing and then touseling his hair multiple times, rehearsing what to say as his excuse. It’s odd to be in the position -- He can’t think of the last time he had a genuine crush on someone. Bethany had been… a different case. His relationship with her was built on sex, coke, and causing a scene in the hotel bar -- At the end of the day, they didn’t really like each other, just the adrenaline high they could achieve together. For lack of a better term, Rowan is different. She’s good and wholesome, with a heart the size of a small country -- It’s something Andy’s come to really admire about her, the way she opens her heart to people in her life, whether it be through her everyday life or her music. Of course, he hadn’t told her any of this, nor did he have a plan to. It’s hard not to let himself think she’s just putting on an act and he’s fall for it, that she’s just trying to make the best of a weird situation until she can be rid of him. Andy tries not to dwell on the thought.

Instead, he makes his way to her dressing room, knocking once before opening the door. “You decent?” He calls out before sticking his head in first, entering entirely a moment after. “Oh, Jesus -- Clearly not.” Andy makes a face as he catches sight of the pink monstrosity she’s been put in, but it doesn’t last -- She’s already pointing out the fact that he’s still in the ripped jeans and t-shirt/leather jacket combo he arrived there in, clearly not impressed. He’s a little caught off guard by how much he enjoys hearing the sound of his name on her lips, drawing him closer to her without even trying. “What?” He’s genuinely caught off guard, brows furrowing as he looks down at the clothes he’s wearing. Andy’s not like Rowan in that regard -- He doesn’t get done up for events, or spend hours with hair and make up. Usually a stylist shakes out his hair and he wears his signature leather jacket, and they call it a day. “Who cares about a dress code?”

ROWAN

The face he makes when he walks in has her has her feeling just slightly self-conscious, but she tells herself she’d had a similar reaction to the dress --- doesn’t dare to let herself think that he could be making the face at her in general and not the dress itself. Christ, her ego can’t take that kind of blow tonight, not when she needs to be on her A-Game. Besides, she knows the outfit is bad. It’s something she probably would’ve picked out when she was fifteen, but now all it does is lock her into the image she’s already been shoeboxed into, rather than actually helping her move forward into the new one she’s desperately hoping to break into. “Don’t make that face,” she scolds him, nose scrunching slightly. “I don’t get as much wardrobe freedom as you apparently do. It was this or neon green with long sleeves so this is the lesser of two evils.” Though still very much evil, she leaves that to herself. It’s something she probably would’ve enjoyed wearing when she was sixteen, but it definitely goes against the more mature and grown up image she’s so desperately trying to break into. A hand moves to tuck blonde hair behind her ear and she can hear her hair stylist tsk over it, but chooses to ignore it in favour of the conversation at hand.

His question has her lips pursing momentarily. A voice somewhere in the back of her head tells her not to push it --- that she always does things like this, always comes on too strong about things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, that her control freak tendencies are always one of the first things to make people realize how annoying she truly is and can be. But it’s like a compulsion she just can’t help. “Greg Sullivan does,” the answer slips out as casually as she can, shrugging her shoulders but it’s obvious that Greg Sullivan isn’t really the biggest factor here. Though that being said he loves to remind them all that they’re under his thumb and while Rowan herself has never been on the receiving end of a verbal lashing from him, she’s heard them and has zero interest in doing so. He creeps her out enough from the few and far between interactions she’s already got to smile her way through, she doesn’t need to add that to their itinerary. “And honestly, so do I. Looks are important in the industry -- to make a good impression.” Which has been drilled in her head since she was sixteen --- to always put her best foot forward, not to let anyone see her looking anything less than perfect. No wonder the sight of Andy in his ripped jeans and t-shirt before the night of a big party have her stressing out. Then she realizes she’s kind of insulted him and her cheeks heat up just slightly, stumbling to correct herself remembering how shitty it felt moments earlier when he’d given her that look. “You don’t look bad, but do you want Greg Sullivan breathing down your neck about it in a few hours? You’re not allergic to button downs, are you?” Her tone shifts, something more casual, closer to the teasing one she’s adopted around him in recent weeks.

ANDY

It’s not lost on them that there’s different expectations held for them -- From the sexism that plagues the industry, all the way down to how different their styles are musically, aesthetically, everything. She’s the good girl, the one with the smile and innocence who has a squeaky clean image -- Whereas he’s the opposite, known for causing fights and showing up in a leather jacket, without much thought for anything else. His image is built off of him being a mess, so he’s never been forced into putting a suit and gelling back his hair. “Jesus,” Andy’s sure she’d look good in whatever her stylist put her in, but neon green may be a stretch. “You sure you didn’t offend your stylist, or something? ‘Cause that sounds personal.” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs at his own words. A few months ago, he spent all of his time around her huffing and making snide comments -- It was strange to think that now, they were cracking jokes and having a conversation that didn’t involve mocking the other. “Wanna borrow my jacket?” He suggests, only half-serious. “Might give you a little more edge than… Whatever it is they put you in. Can’t imagine you’d look too bad in it.” He immediately kicks himself for his last comment, feeling like a child with a school boy crush. Hopefully she won’t pick up on it, save him the embarrassment and burning cheeks. Since when was he the kind of guy who got crushes on girls? Who made comments about a girl wearing his jacket and then had to use all of his will power to not go beet red? Jesus.

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of Greg Sullivan, someone he hates deeply -- But he welcomes as a topic change. The words fuck that guy are at the tip of his tongue, but even Andy knows better than to blurt out something like that in a place like this. You never knew who was listening, and he wasn’t planning on getting sued for defamation or something for making a passing remark. He gets the point when it comes to the importance of appearance, that perception is reality. Andy couldn’t give a shit if Greg Sullivan liked how he looked, but in that moment -- He cared about Rowan’s opinion more than he wanted to admit. A half smile comes when he notices her cheeks changing to a twinge of pink. Christ, this girl had just insulted his outfit and still he’s standing there with knots in his stomach. What the fuck. At her question, a smirk comes to his lips. “What, think you could do better?” He challenges, giving her a look. He may not be able to handle accepting his feelings for her, but he was always happy to flirt with her -- Whether she dished it back or went red and stumbled over her words. Either way, he was into it.

ROWAN

The way Andy’s face takes on just a little colour after he makes a comment about her in his jacket certainly isn’t lost on her, and it creates a small smug feeling in her chest. Even if he’s just doing all of this for fun or to pass the time, it’s satisfying to know that it isn’t completely a one way street --- that she isn’t the only one being affected by it. “Maybe when the sun goes down,” she hums out the answer to what was likely a rhetorical question, unable to keep herself from poking at it just a little. Somewhere in her mind a voice tells her that if the paparazzi outside the party get a shot of them leaving with his jacket slung over her shoulders they’ll be on the front of every magazine in the morning and she has to stop herself from frowning, disappointed that that had come to mind at all. She knows that’s the whole reason they’re even in the same room right now --- the contract is still heavily hanging between them -- but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s about that anymore. Certainly not in moments like this, and she doesn’t want to somehow taint it with something like that so she doesn’t let her facial expression change and pushes the thought away. “S’long as you think I can pull it off,” she teases just a little, circling back to his comment.

His wrinkled nose and disgusted expression is one that she can very much relate to when it comes to both Sullivans, but she doesn’t comment further on it. For a minute she’s a little worried she may have pushed too far and that they’ll be back at square one, her insult having hurled her right back into his bad graces. Then he’s smiling again --- or as much as he ever really does, and Rowan decides then that even if it kills her she’s eventually going to see that half-smile he always sports turn into a full blown grin stretching across his face eventually -- and she’s relieved. “I know I could do better,” she counters confidently, head tilting at him. “There’s a little place down the street I could do some serious damage in as long as you’re willing to trust me on it. No pink, I promise.” And yeah, maybe her fingers are metaphorically crossed behind her back because it wouldn’t kill him to wear a pink tie and match her, but she’s not about to open up with that.

ANDY

It’s almost shocking to him that she goes back and forth with him, half expecting Rowan to have made a face or tried to change the topic quickly at the offhanded comment. “I’ll hold ya to it.” Andy adds, something of a smirk at his lips. He hates that he’s getting coy around her, but if he just tells himself it’s harmless flirting — He can make it out without cheeks that look like he’s sunburned. A certain doubt keeps him grounded, reminding him of the contract they share and that anything they do that could make them look good on a paparazzi picture is the goal. He wonders if that’s motivating her, or if she actually likes him — But that’s a road Andy refuses to let himself go down (right now, at least), knowing it’d put a damper on a night that’s supposed to be a good. Just enjoy yourself. He tries to remind himself, though it’s unclear if it’ll last. “I think you’d look pretty good in leather.” He smirks as he speaks, looking her up and down as if to assess the possibility. A brow arched at her confidence in dressing him, a look of surprise on his features. “Is that so?” He challenges, hating that the way her head tilts while she speaks so confidently has his heart slamming against his chest. Her suggestion is one that could easily get them in trouble with Reina and Chris (especially the former), but admittedly — That’s part of the appeal. He’s not sure where this will lead but he’s eager to find out. “You’ve got a deal,” he begins, before holding a finger up. “If, and only if, I get to pick an outfit for you too. Because this —“ He gestures to the pink mess of fabric she’s wearing. “Isn’t gonna cut it. We’re going to a label event, not prom.” He teases her, unable to stop the half smile that comes with it. “We got a deal, Fisher?”

ROWAN

It’s so strange to think of where they are now compared to a few short months ago. She’d been so sure that there wasn’t anything in the world that could make her even tolerate him, let alone be friends with him. And now here she is --- with a crush. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising. Rowan has always had a habit of jumping in head first and falling for the men in her life far too fast. She is vaguely aware of the fact that she looks at the world through rose coloured glasses and right now Andy is included in that world. The flirting and the back and forth is something she’s come to enjoy --- the phone calls late at night something she looks forward to and finds herself disappointed if they miss. It’s dangerous territory, that much she is aware of and when she has moments of clarity -- usually when she’s alone, catching herself thinking about him when she most certainly shouldn’t be -- she tells herself she needs to draw a line in the sand and stay on her side of it. And then she’s with him again, or he’s texting her and it all goes out the window. It’s just so easy to have this kind of relationship with him.

She’s surprised when he agrees so easily, honestly having had expected to have to beg just a little but the look of satisfaction that comes with it falls just as quickly. Of course he has conditions. Her lips purse together, hesitating and weighing out her options. She hates not having control over it --- but then, had she really had control over her outfit tonight anyway? Or over anything she wears, for that matter? Her teeth catch on her bottom lip for a moment, trying to figure out if this moment of rebellious freedom will be worth the inevitable chewing out she’s going to get from Reina for showing up in something that hadn’t been pre-approved. They’ve worked so hard over the years to carefully craft her image into what it is, and while they’re trying to break away from parts of it --- that break away is just as carefully planned. “Deal. But it can’t be anything that’s gonna have Reina draggin’ me outta there by my hair.” She’s not sure that’s even possible, but it’s worth a try. She moves to slip her shoes on. “Okay, slugger, let’s get this over with.”June 4, 2020

ANDY

She’s become a piece of his life, one he didn’t expect months ago — Rowan became part of everything he does now. Andy sees her everywhere he goes, he’s left each day wanting to hear the sound of her voice and know what she’s thinking. He doesn’t tell her that, of course. Instead, it’s masked with a phone call where he asks about her day, or purposefully leaving something of his with her so he has a reason to come back. This conversation started just the same — Wanting an excuse to see her, so he checks in under the guise of seeing how she’s doing. Under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have agreed. It’s not often that he actually “dresses up” and if it weren’t her insisting on dressing him, he would have told whoever criticized his outfit to go fuck themselves. But with Rowan, he’s eager to have alone time with her, to sneak off and do a task as mundane as this with her by his side, and no one looming over either of their shoulders.

His heart rate speeds up as she bites her lip, apparently deep in thought over his conditions, before she agrees. Truthfully, Andy’s a bit surprised they were both willing to agree to this — But he’s not complaining. At the mention of Reina, something between a scoff and laugh comes. God knows the woman in question wouldn’t be happy with anything he does, even if he could move mountains she’d complain they’re too far to the left. “I’ll skip the leather and chains, got it.” He jokes, knowing that they’re going to surely get in some sort of trouble regardless of what either of them are wearing. The nickname slugger pulls a smile from him — He tries to conceal it, as stupid as it sounds, so that she can’t see how much he enjoys it. “Well?” He holds his arm up for her to loop her hand through (the idea of holding her hand makes him more nervous that he wants to admit, before the embarrassment of being nervous to hold a girl’s hand settles in.), so that they can be on their way.

Getting to the boutique in question is a simple enough task — They still have hours until the event tonight, so no one is on the hunt for them, leaving a window of opportunity to sneak out. This place isn’t exactly somewhere Andy would choose on his own, but he’s willing to trust Rowan’s judgment. Before he knows it, he’s got an arm full of hanging clothes, shoved into the fitting room so that the fashion show can begin. He’s got the first suit on — One he’s pretty sure she’s picked out just to fuck with him, now that he’s looking himself wearing a blazer with a matching pant that’s pattern could rival the curtains at his Mother’s house. “Okay, I’m regretting agreeing to this.” He says loud enough for her to hear, before opening the fitting room door to show it off. “People actually buy this shit?”

ROWAN

It hadn’t taken them long to get to the boutique she’d had in mind. Part of her finds herself disappointed when they get there, her arms easily slipping out of his so they can get down to business but she doesn’t dwell on it. While they still have a good amount of time before anyone is expecting them, she doesn’t want Reina to find out about her disappearance and send out a search party or something. On the other hand, the little bit of alone time they manage to sneak is something Rowan would like to hold onto for as long as possible, so maybe the embarrassing search and rescue would be worth it. Either way, she makes quick work of buzzing around the shop, loading up his arms with various articles of clothing she insist he try on —- and yes, maybe a handful of them are a little extravagant; things that aren’t really practical for where they’re going nor would she want him to wear them, but part of her just wants to see if he’d be willing to indulge her. It doesn’t quite occur to her yet that soon they’ll be in opposite situations and he can have her trying on something equally horrendous.

Before long they find themselves hidden away in a private fitting area. Rowan flops onto the couch while she waits for him, slipping out of her heels almost immediately and justifying it by saying she’ll, hopefully, be buying a different pair of shoes anyways. “Don’t be a baby,” her eyes roll at his comment, though her voice remains light and teasing. “It can’t be that—-” turns out it is that bad. Her words fall short when the curtain opens, her lips pursing together into a thin line to keep herself from laughing too hard, though that only lasts a few seconds. Her nose crinkles while she really takes in the outfit, clearly not one of her more serious choices. “It’s bold,” she suggests weakly, trying not to start off with something too harsh should it make him regret this whole thing. “Maybe just a little bit… busy.” She stands from the couch and takes a few steps to cross the room, one finger lifting to touch against the largest piece of the pattern — a deep red flower that’s on the jacket at least sixty times. “This colour is nice, though, and I think there’s a shirt in there that’s pretty similar. That should be round two.”

ANDY

He’s not sure where this is headed -- He’d agreed to letting her dress him because he likes a challenge and has a crush he won’t admit to, but now that’s actually standing in the fitting room, Andy’s not sure what Rowan had in mind. He may have a crush on her, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have an ulterior motive. Or maybe he’s just assuming the worst. It never takes him long to get into his own head, but once her words fall short at the sight of the suit he’s in -- It’s reassuring. “I look like a lamp.” He dead pans, trying to ignore the way he holds his breath when she steps closer to him. Rowan isn’t even really touching him, just examining the design -- But it’s enough for his nerves to make a comeback. “Somehow I doubt that’s gonna be much better.” He replies easily, giving his usual poker face despite what’s actually going on behind the mask. “But for you, I’ll give it a shot.” Andy gives her a half smile, before turning on his heel quickly to return to the dressing room before she can catch sight of the redness in his cheeks. God, when did this become so fucking personal? He’s never had an issue talking up a girl at a bar, an event, whatever -- But Rowan’s managed to get a hold of him, one he hadn’t expected. He retires to the fitting room once more, replacing the suit with a button up shirt of the same pattern with a pair of black pants -- It looks much better, truthfully. Rather than getting swallowed by the pattern it’s more of an accent, but he’s still hesitant. The majority of his closet consists of black, denim, or old band shirts. Nothing like this. “I don’t know about this, Ro.” He calls from the fitting room, a knot in his stomach at the nickname. Get a fucking grip. He opens the door after, showing her the clothes before stepping over to the mirror. “This one still looks… like a lot.” He continues, sizing himself up. "You sure this isn't some form of sabotage?" He teases her, giving a pointed look.

ROWAN

Part of her is pretty sure this isn’t going anywhere and that at the end of all of this, he’s going to revert back to square one and leave here in the exact same outfit he’d come in wearing. Rowan’s not sure that he really trusts her on any of this, and that much is evident as he calls out that he doesn’t know about it again. “It’s not sabotage. You’re my boyfriend --- at least as far as the world is concerned. You look bad, I look bad. It’s a package deal thing.” She manages to catch her slip up relatively quickly, but kicks herself for having done it at all. Rowan is very much aware of the fact that she’s getting herself into a potentially heartbreaking (not to mention financially devastating should Andy’s legal team decide to sue her for some kind of breach of contract) situation by starting to actually like him, but it’s not something that she has any control over. He had seemed like the perfect candidate for the role a few months ago --- one of few people in the world that her bleeding heart wouldn’t open up for, and he’d managed to knock down all of her expectations and preconceived notions about him and here they are.

“It just looks like a lot because you’re not used to it.” Her smile is soft, trying to reassure the obvious nerves he’s got. “It looks good, but if you’re gonna be uncomfortable all night then you shouldn’t wear it.” She knows exactly what it’s like to have to wear something you don’t feel confident in and how it can ruin a whole night. Her lips purse together for a second before disappearing into the dressing room to dig around for a moment, coming back out with a few items thrown over her arms. “I think you should stick with that pattern. It looks nice on you, but if you’re unsure about the shirt you could try this---” she steps up beside him, moving to hold a black shirt up -- not her first choice, if she’s being honest but it’s not really about her --- against his chest before draping a tie in the same pattern over his shoulder. “I still like the shirt. But I’d give this the okay, too. S’your choice.”June 11, 2020

ANDY

He hates how much he loves hearing the word boyfriend fall from her lips, though he pushes the feeling away, telling himself he’s just reading too far into things. She’s just talking about how his fashion choices, or lack thereof, effect her -- Even if he’s not sure he’s ever heard her refer to him as her boyfriend outside of a paparazzi filled event. “Yeah, yeah -- I get it.” He plays it cool, verbally waving away her words despite the knots in his stomach. “We’re America’s sweethearts or whatever now -- Did you know we’re the new Brangelina?” He teases, gasping at the mention of the couple, eyes rolling as he leaves the dressing room to show off the clothes. Her smile is soft, sending him back to square one -- Andy hates that something as simple as just fucking looking at her is enough to make him feel like a little kid, but he can’t help it when she gives him a smile and tries to ease his concerns. “I guess,” he shrugs, turning to look in the mirror, examining himself. The longer he looks at it, the more the shock begins to wear off -- But it’s still a bit much in comparison to his usual look. She moves to place a shirt in front of him while standing behind, and though it’s something more his speed -- A black button up, right to the point -- he can see she’s not that impressed. The close proximity between them gets his heart racing, and before he knows it he’s turning on his heel to face her. She’s closer than they usually are when the cameras are present -- Enough for him to smell her perfume and have to resist the urge to reach out and move a piece of hair from her face. “I think I’m gonna trust your judgment on this one.” He nods, looking down at the patterned shirt he’s wearing. “If I end up on a worst dressed list I’m blamin’ you, though.”

ROWAN

It comes as a surprise when Andy turns around and she’s suddenly aware of how close they are. Her initial instinct is to step back and put some distance between them, to try and retreat back to the easy atmosphere between them but she doesn’t move. Instead, she stays where she is — almost like she can’t pull away, like if she does he’ll just move too as if they’re connected to each other. “Good choice,” she smiles up at him, tries to regain the bit of composure that she has lost. She can feel his breath fan against her cheeks when he laughs and despite how unprofessional it is (is their relationship even professional anymore? It’s all so confusing) she can’t stop the idea of how easy it would be to just lean up and kiss him then — her eyes linger on his lips for just a second too long, cheeks flushing slightly and her hands move to smooth out the collar of the shirt, not because it really needs it but she just needs to do something with them. “You’re gonna be thanking me tomorrow when you make top ten best dressed —- maybe even top five.” She bites her lip for a second, trying to figure out just how much she’s willing to toe the line. Her eyes stay on the top button of the shirt, “you’re gonna look good —- you do look good. If only you knew when to make a move, coulda been the whole package.”

ANDY

Anyone who saw this would be able to tell exactly what’s happening — They’re shamelessly flirting, finding themselves in what would be a montage in a stereotypical rom-com. There’s no denying that he’s enjoying this, how seriously she’s taking this and each smile she gives creates knots in his stomach. Admittedly, he turned to face her for purely selfish reasons, wanting to be closer to her, even if he has to resist the urge to reach out. Andy has to remind himself that she’s not actually his girlfriend, that none of this is real — And there’s a large possibility that Rowan is only humoring him for the sake of the contract they’ve signed. He catches the way her eyes linger on his lips, the twinge of pink on her cheeks, the way a shiver goes down his spine while she fixes his collar — A voice in the back of his head tells him he’s just making it up, but for this moment, he’s letting himself enjoy it. “I’m gonna hold ya to that.” Andy smiles, giving her a look. The tension is palpable, and he’s tempted to lean in, but stays where he is for fear of misreading this — Rowan is a sweet girl, one who always sports a smile and something kind to say, it wouldn’t be shocking if he’d made this all up in his head. And then — If only you knew when to make a move… A brow arches, smirk at his lips. “Make a move, huh?” He repeats, a hand moving to the back of her head as he leans in — “Oh, oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” One of the workers are the boutique turns the corner and interrupts once he’s practically a centimeter from her lips, stopping him dead in his tracks. Of fucking course. Truthfully, his brains first reaction to someone interrupting had been that Reina found them and was going to rip him apart. His hand lets go of her, and he clears his throat as a hand rubs the back of his neck. “I think this one is good. Let’s uh — Let’s find ya something to match.”

#v: nashville.#nash: andy.

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tattooloading854 · 3 years

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Welcome to the November issue of About This Particular Macintosh! Wewelcome you back for another outstanding issue of your favoriteMacintosh Internet magazine. This month we find the Macintosh world ina somewhat astounding juxtaposition. While the iPod reigns as theundisputed leader in the digital music player market, other PC makersare struggling to rein in increasing demand for Macintosh products.There will be more on Apple’s results a little later in this column.

PC Download Buy now Release date: 2013-10-29. Battlefield 4™ Final Stand is one of five expansion packs included in Battlefield 4™ Premium. Battlefield 4™ Final Stand moves the fight into the grand Russian wintry landscape as the war closes in on its epic conclusion. In an effort to change the tide of the war a Pan Asian Coalition. Buy Commandos Pack. $14.99 Add to Cart. Package Details. Title: Commandos Pack Genre: Strategy, Action Developer: Pyro Studios Publisher: Kalypso Media Digital Release Date: Apr 13, 2010 Languages: English Read related news Single-player. Welcome, Officer! This mission pack pack for the 1999 released Commando: Beyond the Call of Duty adds 6 new missions to the game, sending you to various fictitious locations in Germany, 1943. Download & Installation. Mission Pack v2.151 – Installer; Resolution-Hack – Optional.

Capture This

Most Mac users are familiar with iPhoto, the photo management componentof Apple’s popular iLife suite of products. In October, Apple releasedAperture, a photo management and image processing solution designed for professional photographers.Aperture also comes at the professional-grade price of $499.

Video Raised the New Gadget Bar

The holiday shopping season is again upon us. All around the world,consumers by the millions will be buying the latest electronic gadgetsfor friends and family. Trumping the digital music player competitiononce again, Apple released video versions of the iPod just in time tosatisfy the excessive spending appetites of holiday season shoppers.

The day before the introduction of the video iPod, Apple executives intheir quarterly conference call with Wall Street analysts stated inresponse to an analyst question that the then-unnamed new product wasincluded in the company’s conservative holiday quarter financialforecasts. We’ll see come January if Apple hands its investors one moreholiday season surprise.

Evolution and Intelligent Design

Communities across the country are debating whether or not the theoryof Intelligent Design should be taught in science classrooms alongsidethe evolving theory of Evolution.

Mac buyers need not engage in such a conflict when it comes topurchasing a new computer. The recently updated iMac is an evolutionarystep in Apple’s product development, while evidencing the next stage ofintelligent home computer design.

The new iMac has a remote control for the new Front Row multimedia experience and a built-in iSight video camera.

The Quad

A quad is often described as a rectangular open space surrounded bybuildings or one of four children born at the same time with threeother siblings. In this case a quad is the latest in chip technologyintroduced into Apple’s Power Mac product line.

Sporting dual-core G5 chips, the new Power Macs provide users with enhanced performance and fresh video card options.Representing the last of the four October new product announcements,the new Power Macs should be quite popular with buyers in highereducation, allowing students who often walk through a quad on the wayto classes the opportunity to use the best in Apple technology toadvance their pursuit of knowledge.

Record-Setting Results

When ATPM began publication over ten years ago, many PC industry punditsand Wall Street analysts considered that Apple’s best chance for survivalwas as a strong division or semi-independent subsidiary of a muchlarger technology company.

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For the three months ended September 24, 2005, Apple Computerreported revenue of $3.68 billion and net quarterly income of $430million. For the full fiscal year ended the say day, Appleannounced revenue of $13.93 billion and net income of $1.335billion. The quarterly and fiscal year results set new revenue andearnings records for the Cupertino-based company. In the fourthfiscal quarter Apple shipped 1.236 million Macs and 6.451 millioniPod digital music players. Apple ended the fiscal year with about$8.261 billion in cash and short-term investments.

In other news Apple announced that Timothy D. Cook has been named ChiefOperating Officer.

Our November Issue

Before we look at what our November issue includes, we’d like to alsoinclude you among our writers and editors. If you’re a Mac enthusiastwith a desire to share your skills and insights with the greaterMacintosh community, please contact our managing editor.

Pod People: Kool and the Nano Gang

“Just the thought of losing you, scares me half to death.”

FileMaking: Welcome to FileMaker 8!

Charles Ross detours from his round of tutorials and takes a good lookAt FileMaker 8.

How To: Serving Up a Tune or Two

Can your Mac and your stereo really make beautiful music together?

How To: Upgrading Your Cube’s Video Card

When your Cube needs better video performance (or a bigger chunkof video RAM), it’s possible to upgrade the stock Rage Pro 128 tosomething better. This article covers replacing it with ATI’s Radeon7500 32 MB card.

Desktop Pictures: Gateway Arch

Lee Bennett found the St. Louis Gateway Arch itself to be morephotogenic than the topside view.

Cortland

Chad finds himself beginning a new phase in life while Cortlandcollects the last of a client’s bill.

Frisky Freeware: FinderPop

Frisky the Freeware Guinea Pig checks out FinderPop.

Review: AirClick and AirClick USB

Though Apple now offers a remote control for iPods, GriffinTechnology’s AirClick may be the better choice.

Review: Commandos Battle Pack

Fight for the Allies in squad-based combat missions across Europe.Commandos Battle Pack contains two games from the real-time strategyseries: Commandos 2: Men of Courage and Commandos 3: Destination Berlin.

Review: Digital Photography Pocket Guide, 3rd Edition

Digital photographers, whether they’re seasoned pros or brand new tothe field, always have questions. Derrick Story’s new edition of theDigital Photography Pocket Guide has all the answers in a trim fieldguide that all digital photographers should carry.

Review: OmniGraffle Pro 4

OmniGraffle Professional 4.0 adds several welcome features to analready well-rounded application.

Review: Portectorz

Remember when your PowerBook’s ports were covered by a plastic door?RadTech offers a silicone-based solution for the latest Apple portables.

Also in This Series

Welcome (and Goodbye) · May 2012

Welcome · April 2012

Welcome · March 2012

Welcome · February 2012

Welcome · January 2012

Welcome · December 2011

Welcome · November 2011

Welcome · October 2011

Welcome · September 2011

Developer: Feral Interactive

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Requirements: 500 MHz Mac with Mac OS X 10.2, 256 MB RAM, 1.85 GB disk space

Recommended: 867 MHz Mac, 32 MB VRAM, 2.5 GB disk space

Trial: Feature-limited (Commandos 3 Demo)

The Commandos Battle Pack includes two games, Commandos 2: Men ofCourage and Commandos 3: Destination Berlin. Both are real-timestrategy games from an overhead viewpoint, similar to Myth. Thestorylines follow WW II missions that take advantage of the commandos’special skills and span much of Europe.

In each mission, you control one or more members of an elite Alliedunit, usually facing off against vastly superior German forces behindenemy lines. The size difference means that stealth plays a big role,so save the trigger finger for the first-person shooters.

The Green Beret’s knife will silently dispatch enemies, but hidethe body afterwards.

Installation

Both games install from the DVD, and you need it mounted to play.Included are print and PDF versions of the user manual. Keep the manual closeat hand for Men of Courage, but you’ll need it less during DestinationBerlin.

Note that the printable Keyboard Guide uses the default settings forMen of Courage. Destination Berlin, however, changes the defaultlayout. If you want the same layout for both games, select “UseCommandos 2 shortcuts” from the setup options. This can affect howcomfortable you feel moving from one game to the other.

Gameplay

Both games progress in a similar way. An intro storyline lays out themission objective and shows you which commandos are involved (usuallytwo or three, sometimes just one). Study the layout and movement ofNazi soldiers and vehicles on the map, explore buildings to find ammoor equipment, and slowly work your way through the objectives.

You start with the training missions, and it’s a good thing, too.(Don’t worry, they’re not insultingly simple.) After finishing them,you’ll have a better understanding of how to switch between commandos,use weapons, and maneuver around enemies.

You do a lot of crawling to avoid alerting enemies to your presence.Watch their fields of vision to find openings. You can usually get veryclose to soldiers without their knowledge—if you’re quiet about it.

Each commando’s name says something about his skills: Sniper, Thief,Spy, etc. The cut scenes and in-game responses have decent voiceacting, giving each a little personality. (Too much would probably be adistraction.) Typical objectives include blowing something up, stealingsomething important, or contacting Allied spies already in the field.

Grenades can take out small vehicles and groups of enemies.

A major difference between Men of Courage and Destination Berlin is themission help. In Men of Courage, you start with a primary objectivethat gains secondary goals as the mission proceeds. A checklistmeasures your progress and gives you pointers to the next importantlocation.

In Destination Berlin, the creators apparently decided that was way toomuch help. You get a vague goal description, a little introconversation, and no friendly checklist. It’s like night and day andcan be very frustrating when you start playing Destination Berlin. Tocompound that, its manual is very sparse on gameplay. The Men ofCourage version at least includes weapon-usage notes and more detail onthe game controls.

The game supports Internet multi-player through GameRanger. However, Iwas unable to find GameRanger opponents after checking a number oftimes. If you do choose multi-player, Men of Courage has a co-operativemission mode, but Destination Berlin has competitive missions such asCapture the Flag.

Graphics

The game graphics show care, even if they’re slightly dated. The mapsin both games have sophisticated layouts of 3D areas, but are renderedwell for an angled 2D viewpoint. There are four fixed outdoorviewpoints, which you switch between as needed. Indoors, you can freelyrotate the camera. Sometimes, building angles hide spots you want toinvestigate, though (which can be frustrating).

The Sapper confronts a Nazi inside a town building.

Destination Berlin adds great weather effects, such as a drivingsnowstorm or plodding rain. You can zoom in and out to see actionacross the map, but play slows down notably when zoomed out. Playerswith good 3D cards will benefit.

Play Control

Control in both games is much like Myth and other overhead real-timegames. You scroll around the map, direct characters to one or morelocations, and do a lot of clicking because fine-tuned locations arehard to specify on a wide view. Changing perspective is easy enough,but Commandos does little to solve the persistent interface issues of“Go there! No, there! Not around the fence!” and “Can’t you seethe tank bearing down on you? Run!”

The Nazis respond to actions with some intelligence, but all Commandoactions are up to the player. (However, you can tell them to watch an area andshoot anything that walks across it.)

Adding backup commands to your players would be a huge help, such as“Duck if someone starts shooting at you” or “Retreat to this safe areaif a patrol comes around.” The clumsy nature of the controls basicallydemands a stealth game, since actually shooting it out with enemiesquickly exposes how slowly your players react.

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The red view means the Nazis have seen you. Get ready to reloadyour game.

Annoyances

Passing one of the Destination Berlin’s tutorial missions requires theSpy’s “Distract” skill. Thanks to IGNfor noting that it requires a Control-click to open this command menu. Themanual says nothing about it, but you can’t finish the training missionotherwise. After the Spy dons an officer’s uniform, Control-click theaction commands.

Settings

My 32 MB Radeon 7500 video card provided clean graphics at 800x600pixels, but action slowed down when zoomed out on the map.Higher-performance cards with more VRAM will no doubt perform better.

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Tips

Learn and use the functions keys instead of clicking through the menus.

F5 makes enemies glow red.

F7 highlights boxes and building entrances.

F9 does a “quick save” of your game.

F11 is “quick load.”

You’ll use F9 and F11 a lot as you work through the mission, usually torecover after making a strategic mistake (i.e., wandering into a hailof bullets).

Bugs

In 30-plus hours of gameplay, the game crashed a few times, but therewere no repetitive bugs. Check the Feral Interactive site for updatesjust in case, but there were no patches at press time.

Summary

The two games have interesting storylines and challenging missions, butcome with a third game called “How many times will you click in thewrong place and reload your game?”

There’s obviously care in the graphics and level design, and thechallenge of overcoming hordes of enemies with just a handful of troopspulls you in. If only there were situational commands and improvementsto the player movement, it would rate a Very Nice. As it is, Good willhave to be good enough.

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