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#this composition makes no fuckin sense and i will own that
cranberrymoons · 7 months
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backseat love affair
prompt: high school or college au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 1,000 exactly, according to wordcounter.net 😭 (one thing about me, you give me an upper limit of a thousand words, i will make sure i get there) rating: e (18+) cw: good old fashioned fuckin' in the backseat (semi-public sex) tags: flirting, car sex, riding
[read on ao3 or below]
They share an American Lit class. That’s how they meet.
They probably never would have met otherwise: it’s a big campus, and they run in different circles, but they do meet, sort of, in the sense that Steve gets distracted during discussion rounds from day one, watching the anxious fidget of the guy’s hands as he makes some point that Steve’s brain doesn’t even have space to process because his thoughts are just one big haze of clunky rings, tight jeans, doe eyes, sharp tongue, long fingers and –
And anyway.
It’s late one night a couple weeks into the semester before Steve sees him outside of class for the first time. It’s a Thursday, and the little corner bar where he bartends three nights a week is packed – like really fucking packed, he’s making money hand over fist even with the shitty single dollar tips people are coughing up – and he turns around after pouring a row of vodka cranberries, and there he is, shouldered in at the end of the bar.
It takes him a second to realize who he is out of context, without the frayed edges of a composition book or a bent paperback in his hands, without the travel mug of sugar-sweet coffee at his elbow. But it’s him, sure as anything: hair pulled on top of his head in the heat of the bar, incomprehensible band tee and a grin of his own overtaking his face as he stares at Steve, eyes traveling up his legs and over his chest.
“I got that one,” he says to Robin, whose turn it technically is. 
She casts a look in the direction of his eyeline as she pulls a beer, then rolls her eyes at him.
“You better not disappear just to suck dick again,” she says, loud enough to be heard over the thump of the bass, which means she’s also loud enough that all the people in their immediate vicinity hear, too. “We’re too busy for that shit tonight.”
“I won’t,” he says, dropping a dish towel over his shoulder. “As if I’d let you take all the tips.”
She gives him a sarcastic smile as she turns away in search of the next person who needs a drink, and Steve moves to the end where the guy is waiting. He bends forward from his side of the bar, leaning toward him with his elbows pressed against the sticky surface of it. He’s technically supposed to just lipread when it’s this loud in here, but –
“Hey,” he says, close to his ear. “Carson’s class, right? I’m Steve.”
“Eddie,” Eddie says. His eyes trail over Steve again, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Cute shorts.”
“Thanks,” Steve laughs. They were a pair of jeans that already made his ass look good even before he turned them into cutoffs. “They help with the tips.” He pops his hip out a little more, leaning into it. “What’ll it be?”
Eddie’s eyes draw back to his face slowly, teeth dragging over his bottom lip. “To drink, or…?”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “For now.”
An hour later, he’s on top of Eddie in the backseat of his car, bouncing on his cock with Eddie’s hands digging matching five-point bruises into his hips. His breath comes in a series of short, sharp gasps as Eddie’s hips thrust up to meet his, knocking him forward where he balances himself with a hand braced against the window, slipping down the glass to grip at the armrest on the door.
Eddie tilts his head up and licks into his mouth, hot breath panting out over his lips as he fucks up into him, hard and fast and –
Steve comes on a shout, knuckles clenching as it rolls down his spine, hands shaking as he threads his fingers through the wispy hair at the back of Eddie’s neck and kisses him, drawing his tongue into his mouth as Eddie holds him in place on top of his cock and thrusts up into him, chasing his own release.
The noise he makes as he stiffens and comes almost makes Steve want to go again.
He laughs, loose and boneless in Eddie’s lap, heart still beating wildly in his chest, and then he kisses him again, just because, slow and deep and licking at the backs of his teeth. Eddie chases after his mouth when he draws back, sitting up with him and slipping a hand down his back to press against the base of his spine, holding him close. The change in position shifts Eddie’s cock where it’s still buried inside him, and Steve inhales sharply, smiling against his mouth.
“Fuck,” Eddie gasps when it’s over. “Jesus Christ.”
“I know,” he says, ears ringing from the lingering noise of the bar and also the – “That was…”
“Yeah.” Eddie laughs too, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah.”
Steve exhales heavily, shifting in his lap to pull off his cock, then he slumps back against the door on the opposite side, their legs overlapping, and they stay there for a long moment as they catch their breath in comfortable silence. At last, reluctantly, Steve takes a breath and says,
“I should get back.”
Eddie smiles, slow and sweet as he watches him fish around for his clothes. “Can I have your number before you go?”
Steve lifts his hips off the seat as he pulls his shorts back on, then tugs his shirt back over his head. He leans forward for another kiss, which draws out, Eddie’s tongue as distracting as all his other little fidgety movements. 
“Tomorrow,” Steve says, finally pulling himself away. “In class.”
When he gets back inside, clothes rumpled, red mark high on his throat, Robin glares at him. He laughs, still flushed, still buzzing, and rakes a hand back through his hair.
“I was on my break,” he says. “You can do whatever you want when you're on yours.”
“Whoever I want, more like.”
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bunnybearsworld · 1 year
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a ranking and analysis of “epic: the musical” songs so far, from someone who knows a lot about theater and not a lot about mythology
RANDOM DISCLAIMER: to reiterate from the title, i know a lot about music and theater, but NOT a lot about greek mythology. i'm trying to slowly read the odyssey as sagas release so that i'm never too far ahead but i can still have a sense of where things are going. aside from that, i have very basic foundational knowledge from vague exposure to pjo (but i never got into pjo myself LOL)
(also no one better spoil the odyssey for me in the tags or the comments i swear to god this is supposed to be about the SONGS)
putting it under the cut so people can scroll past if they want; this is long as fuck and i'm not gonna pretend it isn't.
9. the horse and the infant
i almost placed this one higher SOLELY BECAUSE OF "PENELOPE… PENELOPE, AND TELEMACHUS". (side note: low placement absolutely does not mean bad. i love every song in epic. like, excessively.) i'm probably going to talk about odysseus's voice A LOT. i love it. the reason i got into this in the first place is because back when early auditions were happening, one of the demos came up on my fyp and i was baffled by the vocals. from a plot standpoint i really like what this song does lyrically and what it shows of odysseus in particular but also how the gods interact with the mortals. zeus is immediately talking down/condescending to odysseus (which is fair because. it's fucking zeus, and also a detail that was pointed out to me by my friend), who reacts saying he "knows" he's ready for, essentially, whatever zeus throws at him… until he finds out zeus is making him kill a baby. the first two songs in the musical (this and "just a man") both reveal so much about odysseus, which is of course good because that's who we're supposed to sympathize with.
anyway. love this song. fuckin bangs.
8. just a man
normally with these early character-establishing solos i like them a little at first and then always skip them after that first listen. that's just a Thing for me. like, i know who you are now, i don't need to hear it again. but not this song. this was the first song that really told me i was gonna obsess over this musical for a long time and that it was going to ruin my life. my ONLY criticism, and it's not even a big one because it doesn't truly bother me/disrupt my listening experience at all, is that it's hard to hear any distinct emotion from odysseus for most of it. BUT I CAN'T EVEN BE MAD BECAUSE HIS VOICE IS SO STUPIDLY GORGEOUS. maybe that's hyperbole but i feel like you can't blame me for that. again as far as plot hearing odysseus's internal struggle about killing the baby is very foundational for our understanding of the character. also, the dual meaning of the lyric "when does a man become a monster" which as others have pointed out refers (most likely) both to odysseus wondering if fulfilling his end of the prophecy will make him a monster and also wondering when, if this baby grows up, it will cause whatever destruction zeus foretold… i have a lot of feelings. i like this song a lot. a LOT.
SECOND RANDOM DISCLAIMER: at some point, you will probably start to think i sound pretentious. i like my own funny words and think i am a magic man. you are allowed to not like my funny words.
7. open arms
i would like to briefly touch on how much i love steven dookie's voice before we proceed. ok thanks. ANYWAY, this to me is our first real shift away from the musical theater genre-sound, something that i love about modern theater and particularly composition. the vocal style is less theater-inspired to me, too--until the lotus eaters show up--which really speaks to the message of the song in my opinion. the laid back sound after the sort of chaos and pain of the past few songs is refreshing to me. as far as characterization it solidifies what i feel we already knew about polites just from that little bit of him we heard in full speed ahead, but shows the more caring side to his positivity (the "you can relax, my friend" refrain and variations). i also love what it shows about the dynamic between odysseus and polites, establishing further that polites isn't just a soldier but a friend. this is one of the songs that i don't have a lot to say about, truthfully, but mostly because every time i listen to it i'm just enjoying the sound LOL
6. full speed ahead
SIX HUNDRED MEN. SIX HUNDRED MEN UNDER MY COMMAND…. this is where we really meet some new characters, and their introductions--true to form for the show--show a lot about them, both right away when they show up and all the way through the end of the song too. eurylochus, the battle-minded second-in-command to odysseus, and polites, the kind-hearted best friend to odysseus, both make their positions very clear not only in their verses but i feel also in just the way that they greet odysseus/each say "captain" (but that could also just be the different qualities of their voices). re: vocals, more vocal excellence from odysseus (have i mentioned "and ithaca's waiting etc" yet?), and polites sounds so fucking good constantly, and eurylochus has such a consistent tone through his whole verse. re: polites, a lot of the other voices in this musical are kind of standard fare (respectfully! i love theater voices genuinely) for what you imagine theater actors to sound like, but polites (played by steven dookie) has such a unique tone for this medium and i love it so so much. the soldier ensemble is insane too. from a compositional standpoint i LOVE the call and response, particularly on "so, captain, what's the plan? (captain, what's the plan?)" + that section where the soldiers echo odysseus that comes right after that. i didn't think this would beat just a man when i started this, but i was very wrong. very very wrong.
5. polyphemus
i don't want to talk about plot OR musicality, first. i want to talk about sound design. the choice of the particular sound effects that were used with the reverb and the overlapping noises from the sheep paint a very clear picture indeed of polyphemus's cave. (something that definitely did not hurt to accomplish this end was the teaser video where odysseus, eurylochus, and polites were in the dark holding candles (? i think, some kind of small light sources at least).) audio panning was also present in the intro for this track, i would say up until polyphemus starts to sing it's pretty prevalent, and audio panning is my favorite thing you can do to establish spatial understanding in non-visual media. okay, moving on. in this song, odysseus directly parrots polyphemus's words and melody, and this is a theme that continues in the other songs the two are both in. this also, to me, shows that one of the layers of his plan is to make himself seem more agreeable to polyphemus (which in itself as a fact i think is rather clear in terms of plot, but i think the specific methodology from a compositional standpoint is fun). AND JUST TO SAY: the moment at the beginning where this suddenly becomes a horror musical made my heart drop through my ass in the best possible way. i had to stand up for the rest of the saga because sitting down limited my range of motion too much and i had to go insane. in terms of characterization, we know that odysseus is smart and resourceful mostly from what we hear about him from others, but i feel like this song is the first one where we see that firsthand. i love this song.
4. warrior of the mind
the first song i had to just sit with and loop for a while (i did the same with just a man, but several days later upon relisten). athena's vocals never fail to astound me, teagan earley's tone is so clear and strong, and this is kind of specific but i like the choices she made on vowel placement, particularly on that last "mind" in the first chorus. also, i'm not even going to beat around the bush: i'm a trumpet player, i've been playing trumpet for theater and in other contexts for almost a decade now, and when i heard that low trumpet line underscoring the first establishment of the melody in the chorus, i KNEW an octave kick was coming and i was THRILLED when it delivered so perfectly. i don't know if it's synth trumpet or a live musician, i assume synth just for ease of production, but either way, i'm obsessed with it. absolutely a fantastic composition choice when it comes to ramping up the energy of the second half of that chorus. again in regards to composition: obsessed with odysseus's harmonic line in the second chorus. it took me a while to pick the notes out because i go a little harmony-blind sometimes when i'm too busy ooh-ing and ahh-ing but once i got that line in my head i was all about it.
(did not think this section would be so wordy, but) what this song shows about athena in my eyes is her fondness for odysseus--which sounds obvious until you remember how zeus interacted with him vs how athena does. athena gets close to talking down to odysseus sometimes, yes, but in more of a human, sarcastic way ("you'll see where it ends"). one could argue that the entire intro is her condescending to him in some way, certainly, but when she almost immediately also establishes that she sees the merit in his skills and his mind and has for some time now, it takes away the sort of preachy sound that was there when zeus was doing it. again in the characterization vein it shows odysseus's spirit, the more childish side of him (of course, because he was younger for much of this song) that we don't get to see in the songs that are set in the "present" period. in warrior of the mind, we see odysseus, the boy. in all the other songs, we see odysseus, the king.
anyway. i adore this song. if that wasn't, like. clear.
3. survive
THE ECHO OF THE HORSE AND THE INFANT. MY JAW WAS ON THE FLOOR. people other than me have said that this could be a way of showing that the fight with polyphemus is the will of the gods and i can see the merit in that standpoint but i also think that this is, in this telling at least (which is a distinction i make because i started the odyssey literally today and read maybe 10 pages before i had to go to class so i don't concretely know the details), showing that this is the first real conflict odysseus and the soldiers have been in since the seige of troy. also interesting to note: this song, if i'm not mistaken, is actually in compound meter at least in certain parts (before u fight me on this take a second to count it both ways, i'm not even entirely sure because of how i've been feeling the pulse). also, this reestablishes what i said earlier about polyphemus and odysseus parroting each other, but in this case i think it's polyphemus trying to do as much damage to odysseus and the soldiers as possible, certainly more like mocking them than trying to communicate on their level. (but also, melodic repeats are kind of just how music works, lol. remember when i said u might start to think im pretentious?)
now, maybe this is my sympathetic lens for odysseus showing, i fully admit that bias and own up to any way it may skew my judgement, but in that first chorus, i feel like odysseus isn't just trying to rally his men but to find the will in himself to fight as well. after the long war in troy and being confronted with polites's ideology, i would certainly be weary and sick of fighting. something about "it's just one life to take / and when we kill him then our journey's over" sounds so self-consoling to me. idk! maybe just me!
i'm, uh. not gonna talk much about the plot at the end, there. for obvious reasons, as someone who foolishly got attached to polites. we're gonna gloss over that. (fellow polites likers, how we feelin, though? we all coping?)
2. remember them
if you'll recall from many many paragraphs ago, i mentioned that in "just a man", i felt like there wasn't much emotion in odysseus's voice. this? the intro of this? this, to me, kind of makes up for that. and i mean the VERY beginning, the anger/intensity in that first verse. something that i noticed, that the fellow polites likers will be upset with me for pointing out, is that starting on "mark my words now" and through eurylochus asking "but captain, what'll we do with our fallen friends?", the guitar in the back is playing the melody of "we're up, we're off, and away we go" from "full speed ahead", the first song we hear from polites in. (sorry guys, if i was burdened with this knowledge you will be, too.)
this song and "polyphemus" both do a really good job of establishing horror-style tension. eurylochus's "there are more of them?" and what i would call horror sirens on the strings in the beginning of polyphemus are what i mean, here. it gives that nice stomach-swoopy feeling that recreational horror is so fond of. the ramping tension when eurylochus is pleading with odysseus to order them to run is fantastic too.
re: odysseus vocals. "my friend is dead! our foe is blind! the blood we shed, it never dries! is this what it means to be a warrior of the mind?!" will never NOT make me insane. it makes me want to scream, genuinely. and via the lyrics and instrumental sound we understand the ruthlessness of odysseus's vengeful side as well. again, possibly my sympathetic lens, but "let's grab the sheep and away we go" and during the argument up to that aforementioned point, odysseus just sounds tired to me.
also, i'm sure we all collectively shat our pants when we heard athena. i don't have much to comment on the matter further than that, but know that i was losing my fucking mind as soon as i heard her voice.
last thing: odysseus's choice of words when revealing his name is interesting to me. the "infamous" odysseus? infamy has a very negative connotation and maybe that's just him acknowledging that to polyphemus he'll always be painted in a negative light due to his actions in the cave, but it's an interesting choice in verbiage to me.
1. my goodbye
you were a fool if you thought this was ever gonna get anything other than first place of all the songs that are out so far. hearing athena and odysseus tear each other to pieces was so satisfying on the second listen with the new understanding that the partnership was sort of exhausting on both ends. i confess that my first thought right after i finished this song the first time was "HOLY FUCKING SHIT" but my SECOND one was "bro really wrote a breakup song and thought we wouldn't notice (but said with a positive connotation)". as far as i understand it, and i've asked questions about this so i'm fairly certain, there was nothing romantic in nature about the relationship between athena and odysseus (which i see as a good thing), and the song sounding like a breakup song is more a fun creative choice. and i DO think it's fun, in that case! so with that interpretation in mind, when i go back to the lyrics now, i think about how odysseus's original idea that he and athena would be friends was shot down and in this song i start to feel that maybe despite athena's best efforts they DID consider each other as friends. and of course i think that's intentional--that's why "you're not looking for a mentor, i'm not looking for a friend" cuts so deep.
there's also something in the way the two characters argue with each other that i find so compelling. i feel like athena is really trying to be right, or maybe not that she's trying to be right per se but that she's trying to make odysseus understand why he's wrong. odysseus, on the other hand, seems to be trying to hurt athena as much as possible, in as few words as possible. athena's argument has one core idea, and it's that odysseus is reckless/unfit to be her disciple because he's too emotional. odysseus, on the other hand, brings up several points, like 5 or 6 different little gripes about athena that he's probably been holding onto for who-knows-how-long. it just shows how the focus is entirely different on both parts and i like it a lot LOL
vocals absolutely deliver of course, that goes without saying. and i made that point earlier about how i felt odysseus didn't show much emotion in voice, and maybe this is just me being the #1 jorge rivera-herrans defender or something but i feel like a sort of detached-ness was intentional this time. like odysseus saying, "you can't fire me, because i quit." that's not entirely me being biased, i think the language reflects it too: "this way, you'll close the door and have your damn goodbye." that sounds dismissive to me, and the way that he previously frames athena leaving as something that would be good for him ("this way, you won't plague my life").
anyway….. less of a ranking and more of a song analysis where the songs just so happen to also be ranked. this was originally gonna be on my priv twitter, but the character limit was driving me up the wall, so. here.
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airborneice · 2 years
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i am...BEYOND excited...
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nat-20s · 3 years
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me looking at my own post: you could fanfic out of this!
Anyway here’s how I think a typical “Martin’s Poetry Corner” would go!
~*~
Martin: And for my second thing, we’re going back to the poetry corner!
Jon: Again? Didn’t you have a poetry corner last week?
Martin: It’s been well over two months since the last poetry corner, my dear. And just for that comment I’m going to up the amount of the poetry corner. From now on this podcast is me reading poetry interjected with some guy talking nonsense.
Jon: You say that like the majority of our audience wouldn’t prefer that. Also, some guy? I’m wounded! Earlier you were calling me ‘beloved husband’ and ‘cherished one’ and now I’m ‘some guy’? What did I do to deserve that level of downgrade?
Martin: You decried the poetry corner!
Jon: I decried nothing! It was a purely non-judgmental comment on the frequency of it. If you want to do poem every week, I have nothing against that.
Martin: Hmm. I might test you on that. I know the whole point of this thing is to share things we think are lovely, and I do find all the poems I read lovely, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive.
Jon: Oh? And what might your nefarious hidden agenda be?
Martin: I’m certain you’re the only one that would find it nefarious, but I can, must, shall, and will find a poem that affects you. Now, I’m sure the listeners at home would decry that goal. After all Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou, Wendy Cope, and Langston Hughes all did nothing. He didn’t even blink at “The Two-Headed Calf”, surely there can’t possibly-
Jon, laughing, which severely limits how much he’s able to sell his faux offense: I’ve been affected by poetry before!
Martin: Name one poem you had an actual strong reaction to.
Jon, smugly: It’s almost certainly not one you know. It’s called “Streets” and it’s by this really obscure author. God, what was his name? K was his middle initial I believe?
Martin, laughing: Piss off!
Jon: Well it’s true! I felt something at all of your poetry.
Martin: Liar! I very distinctly remember you calling it ‘almost affecting’! And you declared I was enamored with Keats, which doesn’t even make sense, we have wildly different composition styles.
Jon: You’re working from incomplete information. That tape was from my first read through. It was the reread where they got me.
Martin: Reread? I thought you hated rereading things?
Jon: Typically, yes. But. Ah. It was during the year you were gone.
Martin: Oh. Oh, love.
Jon: It’s been half a decade since then, Martin, I can assure you I’m fine. Though, I suppose reflecting on it, the affecting quality was more to do with who had written the poetry itself. Even now, you could write a grocery list for fun and I’d be hopelessly endeared by it.
Martin: Shut up.
Jon: I shall not! It’s been a hell of a road to get here, I think it’s more than acceptable to flaunt how much I like my husband, especially when he’s doing something he enjoys. In fact, I think it’d be more than appropriate if I did one of your poems for one of my wonderful things next week.
Martin: Absolutely not! Jon, there is a certain level of ‘embarrassing old men in love’ we’re allowed to be in the public sphere, and that would exceed it by, fuck, tenfold? Our quota would be wiped out for the year. For the next five years. No. Besides, my poems aren’t meant for anyone’s eyes and ears but my own, and occasionally you when you’re being nosy.
Jon, with audible shit eating grin: So you’re saying you wouldn’t like to hear your poetry in my voice?
Martin, having a gay panic despite being married to this man for years: I..uh..
Jon: Yes?
Martin: I would..I would like that very much. Privately. Er, please.
Jon: Well, since you asked so nicely. I suppose the poetry corner shall remain yours, for now.
Martin: Thank you for your grand generosity and understanding. Speaking of, should I get to the actual poem? I think I might have a winner with this one.
Jon: Please do.
Martin: So this week I’m bringing a poem written by an, as far as I can tell, unnamed ninth century Irish Monk-
Jon: -ninth century? Decided to abandon the contemporary route then?
Martin: Somewhat? The poem was written in the ninth century, but no one wants to hear me butcher the original, so I’m going to read the English translation by Seamus Heaney, which was done in 2006, so sort of contemporary? Depending how you look at it? Anyway, this is Pangur Bán:
Pangur Bán and I at work,
Adepts, equals, cat and clerk:
His whole instinct is to hunt,
Mine to free the meaning pent.
More than loud acclaim, I love
Books, silence, thought, my alcove.
Happy for me, Pangur Bán
Child-plays round some mouse’s den.
Truth to tell, just being here,
Housed alone, housed together,
Adds up to its own reward:
Concentration, stealthy art.
Next thing an unwary mouse
Bares his flank: Pangur pounces.
Next thing lines that held and held
Meaning back begin to yield.
All the while, his round bright eye
Fixes on the wall, while I
Focus my less piercing gaze
On the challenge of the page.
With his unsheathed, perfect nails
Pangur springs, exults and kills.
When the longed-for, difficult
Answers come, I too exult.
So it goes. To each his own.
No vying. No vexation.
Taking pleasure, taking pains,
Kindred spirits, veterans.
Day and night, soft purr, soft pad,
Pangur Bán has learned his trade.
Day and night, my own hard work
Solves the cruxes, makes a mark.
Isn’t that just delightful? Jon what did you-holy shit!
Jon, voice tight: What?
Martin: You teared up! You’re affected! Fuckin’ gottem!! I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known that the way to Jonathan Sims’ soul was through a poem about a man feeling kinship with his cat. Incredible.
Jon, slightly sniffling: It’s a very nice poem! You read it because it’s a very nice poem!
Martin: Yes it is! That doesn’t discount the fact that I have read poems about love and hardships and finding joy in being alive and it’s the one about the cat that gets to you. Of course. I love you.
Jon: I love you too. Even if you are a bit too victorious over this. I think that will wrap it up for this week?
Martin: Think so! And as we say at the end of every episode, uh, the way to a man’s heart is not through his stomach, but through cat poems from a thousand years ago.
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calpalirwin · 3 years
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Better Now
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Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.
A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.
Word Count: 2.6k
And away, and away we go!
__
Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.
“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”
“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.
“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.
“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”
She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”
“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.
“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”
“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”
“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.
Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”
“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”
She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”
Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”
“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”
Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”
She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”
“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”
There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”
“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”
“Y/N.”
“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”
“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”
Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”
“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”
Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”
Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”
Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.
She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”
“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”
“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”
“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”
“Not in a band, huh?”
“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”
“That’s gotta get lonely.”
“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”
“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”
She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”
“Go for it.”
“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”
“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”
“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”
“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”
“That’s the hardest part.”
“The fuckin’ worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”
“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.
“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”
“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”
“Good luck, Y/N.”
~~~
Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.
She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”
She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.
“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”
She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.
“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.
“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”
He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.
There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”
“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”
“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”
“Unfathomable.”
“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”
“Lucky you.”
He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”
“That’s rough.”
“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”
“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”
“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”
“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”
He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”
She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.
~~~
Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.
When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.
“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.
“It’s done?”
“It’s done!”
“Well, hit play! C’mon!”
For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers. 
“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.
“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”
“And other times?”
“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”
She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”
“Please, don’t.”
“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”
“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”
“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”
~~~
7 Months Later
Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”
“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”
“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”
“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.
“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”
“Better than I’ve ever been.”
__
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chichirichick · 3 years
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SoMa Week Day 2: Healing
Hey, again! First off, I want to actually be proud of myself for a second since I'm posting two consecutive entries for @soulxmakaweek! I never expected my brain would actually allow this, but here's Day 2! Read it on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut!
I have a scar. Hard not to notice since it's hip to armpit, a line that practically killed me. While maybe some guys would love it for the braggin' rights, I think I'd prefer forgettin' it exists. It healed- so why do I have to give it another thought?
Shit.
OK, I know I do. I know there's somethin' there, but I'll be damned if I actually want to scratch anywhere past the surface of it.
I have a scar.
Easy to notice.
Hip to armpit.
Didn't kill me, but…
Maybe it sorta did. Or-- man, do I feel stupid saying this, but-- maybe it killed a part of me. Puttin' the rest of that explanation into words sounds as promisin' as havin' my teeth pulled but… here goes:
Maka Albarn is a giant pain in my ass. Has been from day one and has succeeded in doin' nothin' but improvin' on that skill each day of our partnership. 'Cept… at the same time, she is the only reason I'm alive.
That doesn't make any sense- mostly 'cause the reason for that scar is Maka Albarn needin' my protection, needin' me to take a death blow for her and not hesitatin' to do it.
Well, it makes some sense since she was the one that kept me together after. A guy who practically loses his guts doesn't exactly have the mental or physical oomph to feed, clothe, wash, and all-around take care of himself. Maka did that. Stein may have stitched me up, but eatin', drinkin', sleepin', even showerin' was all thanks to Maka. And, for the first time in our entire lives, none of it came with even a breath of complaint or a look other than somethin' close to pitiful from those green eyes.
So I lived because Maka did the heavy liftin'.
But part of me died because Maka did the heavy liftin'.
See, if you look back at that fourteen-year-old Soul who came to DWMA, my general hope is that you'd see a cool guy, but I know the truth. I wasn't anywhere near cool in my own head. Sure, I had the look-- still do-- but if you cracked me open you'd hear the racket. Even before that annoyin' lil' gremlin, I had voices foggin' up my inner workin's. My mom, my dad, my brother- just to name a few. I hated it. I lived with it every step I took and there didn't seem like a way to escape it.
But she killed it.
Guess I should say somethin' nice like "she healed me with her love," but goddamnit is that ever corny, and I'd rather complete that teeth pullin' I mentioned than have her actually hear those words from my mouth.
'Cause it's really fuckin' hard to hate yourself when you got someone who'll drag your ass into the bath if you can't do it yourself or someone who'll sleep with you every night until the nightmares settle. It's even harder to doubt yourself when they're always there tellin' you that you'll make it through, tellin' you that you're more than enough.
That old Soul died with that slash.
The new Soul… guess he just heals a lil' more every day that I'm he's with her.
Maka barely glanced over the composition before she ticked her eyes to him in annoyance. "What is this?"
"Tol' you- it's that stupid paper Marie wanted us to write about 'where we find our strength,'" Soul tried to deliver that with the same enthusiasm he had for laundry day. "You said you'd proofread mine because, and I quote: 'You always mess up your grammar and you're lazy with your main ideas so you always get the same grade.' And heaven forbid lil' Ms. Perfect's weapon get anything other than-"
"I can already tell you that your structure is terrible." She glanced again at the page, not absorbing the words just the awful penmanship and the truncated lines. "You know what paragraphs are, right?"
Soul rolled his eyes. "Maka, just read it."
She only dared another quick peek before leveling a grimace at him. "And are you serious with all those apostrophes?"
"It's how I talk," Soul offered with a shrug.
Maka released an all-suffering sigh before she centered her glare on the first line of the page.
Soul watched her eyebrows wrinkle.
Her mouth gaped and snapped shut again.
Her eyes flicked only a second's worth of attention to him before hitting the paper again.
He tried to relax, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep himself from drumming unsteady beats on his thighs to echo the ones in his heart.
Pink and then red started to drift to the top of her ears.
"Well?" He was eternally grateful that he managed that with impatience rather than one of those boyish, nervous squeaks that were threatening in this throat.
"Y-you-" she was stammering off the word, her eyes still glued to the paper. "You can't use an expletive in a school essay, Soul!"
He sucked his teeth. "Maka Albarn, that's all you got to say to me?"
She waved the paper at him, less a white flag of defeat and more a banner for her cause. "One- fix the apostrophes. I don't care if it's the way you talk- no one writes like that! Two- take out the curses. They seriously have no place in academic responses. And three-" She heaved a breath as she pulled the paper taut, making it hide her face from him. "Three- if you thought this was romantic, you shouldn't have prefaced it with the idea that first and foremost I'm a pain in the ass!"
"A giant pain in the ass," he corrected.
"Soul!" That was a tumultuous mix of tones from the refusal of defeat to the outright embarrassment of having her feelings written so perfectly yet entirely not eloquently.
"You're ruinin' my paper." He moved towards her, hands coming over hers to relax the strain in the page and uncover her face. "So you said you'd correct my mistakes, right? So correct me if I'm wrong, Maka…" His cool was fizzling as he needed to stop to take a swallow in hopes of easing his voice. "I sorta… I'd sorta like to know if I'm wrong about the love part. Like… do I have to fix it to say partners- friends- or…"
"You have to fix it to say you love me too," Maka snapped bluntly.
In vain he tried to catch the giddy little laugh that escaped his mouth, but there was no snatching it from taking flight. "Guess I did forget the main idea."
Maka's face burned while her fingers crinkled the edges, but a wonderful fluttering was starting in her heart. "But that is the main idea, right?"
"Yeah, sorta the whole point of the essay." He tried to shrug it off but the glow on her cheeks was being amplified by the smile that was starting to break through the worry. "So, uh, I guess I'll fix it. I'll just- I should probably just say it plain, right? That I-" Maybe this was the moment his point was proved, looking down at her, holding her hands in his, killing the last little bit of that scared boy who no longer existed. The real wound finally healed. "I love you, Maka."
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Lou Reed - Masonic Auditorium, Detroit, Michigan, April 26, 1978
“Fuckin’ Detroit — are you kidding me?!” That’s how Lou Reed greets the Motor City at the start of this show. The crowd loves it. But before we get to the show itself, let’s talk about fashion. We’ve seen a lot of Lou looks during our Summer of Lou trek so far. But his 1978 ensemble is something else. Suspenders, sleeveless t-shirt with his own face on it, transparent guitar, flares ... it’s breathtaking! The suspenders in particular make him look more like a comedian than a rock star — which I suppose makes sense, considering that Take No Prisoners was recorded in ‘78.  
Sartorial choices aside, this Detroit audience tape is a solid representation of a well-represented year for Lou. The “Everyman Band” is slick and sleazy, kind of a dirtbag version of the E-Street Band, lead guitars blasting, saxes honking, keys tinkling, backup singers cooing. Lou sounds more at ease and confident than he has in years (maybe it’s the suspenders!) and the new Street Hassle material is delivered with glee, alongside the now-expected warhorses. The set’s high-point comes during the intro to “Coney Island Baby,” where Lou croons a bit of the original doo wop “Coney Island Baby” by the Excellents, a hazy memory from way back in ‘62. Beeyootiful. 
Despite his ribbing of Detroit at the start, Reed pays tribute to the city by bringing out hometown hero Mitch Ryder to sing a very loose “Rock and Roll” — Ryder was one of the first to cover a Lou composition and the songwriter seems to have really appreciated it. The show comes to a harrowing end with a soul-sleaze remake of “Heroin,” which feels roughly a million miles from the song’s beginnings. But it works somehow, with Lou delivering a powerful vocal, as his backup singers wail “Her-oooo-innnnnn” behind him ... Things are getting weird in the late 70s. Onwards!
Lou Says (1978): I believe in glamour. You oughta stop the mind trip a little and get into the physical trip a little. If you think somebody who’s smart is good, you should see someone who’s smart and beautiful. Tom Waits? Why would I want to listen to him, he’s ugly and grubby. I don’t give a fuck if he’s good. It’s not Elvis Costello, where if you’re really smart you’ve got to look like a fuckin’ banker with fuckin’ glasses. People call him four eyes for a reason. How can you look at him and get off? When you go to the movies now, all the stars are ugly. Who cares about Dustin Hoffman? I want glamour.
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boogiewrites · 4 years
Text
Choking On Sapphires 92
Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)
Title & Song: Love Her Madly
Summary:  Alfie and Genevieve sign a contract together. Alfie finds a nostalgic turn to the air between them as they negotiate with less than professional means. They whisper about their future together, but it seems others have much louder opinions about it they want to be heard.
Warnings/Tags: FLUFF. Sexual Content. Negotiations. Old Enemies, New Problems. 
Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!
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Everyone around them noticed the change. The sway to Alfie's stride was a strong strut, masculine as he headed to breakfast every morning. His laugh loud and brash, his threats sharp and cutting, an air of confidence and content reigned in the home and all who lived there felt it.
Genevieve was a soft wave of femininity, hair and face pressed and painted, dresses now modest and structured, not giving away so much of her flesh when she was working. Her strong calves and still scared but bejeweled forearms were the only skin shown besides her face. She was in control, pointed and severe for the world, and happily soft and kind to those she deemed worthy of it. She would hold Alfie's chin to grab his attention. The only soul who dared to do so. His whiskers would bristle as she kissed him and wished him a productive day, saying quietly to him that she loved him. She spoke only loud enough for him to hear, but anyone with the gift of sight could see it between them.
Alfie was softer at home now, finding his way directly to his bride to be every evening. She was still hard outside the bedroom to the gaze of any eyes but his own. But her glimmer was back when they would allow their sighs to escape as they pressed against one another in the sanctuary of their bedroom. He didn’t mind the harshness. He rather enjoyed her directness, in fact. Which is why when she showed up to his office for a meeting in an oddly familiar dress, he was more than surprised. It was clear quickly from her body language, there was a shift in her attitude. Her eyes were dark and sultry in a way he hadn’t seen in many moons. There was a playful young thing waiting to come out behind a closed door and he was happy to oblige.
“Is this my noon appointment?” Alfie rhetorically asks, eyeing her from tip to tail as she stood outside his office. She was in something he’d only seen her wear once and had never expected to see again. She looked at no one but him as she posed in jewels that shone even in the dim dusty warehouse. A flimsy polka dot dress with her matching accessories, cut at the knee and far tighter around the bust and waist than he recalled. The buttons strained against her breasts and he pretended not to notice.
“Well uh... yes.” Ollie answers confused at the way they were looking at one another. “It’s Miss Durand.”
“I know it is Ollie ya fuckin' knob. Learn to read a room.” He points an easily agitated and ink-stained finger his way. “Go read the papers while I work out this contract. Make yourself useful.”
“Yes, sir.” He shuffled off defeated.
“Don’t be too hard on the man, not everyone can speak without conversation as we can.” Gen soothes with soft words after Ollie rounds a corner.
“He needs to fuckin' learn.” Alfie muttered and turned to enter his office. “Got the contracts drawn up.” He announced with a boom of importance, followed with a hum or worrying lips as she shuts the door behind her. The mood set as the door clicks is thick, unchanged in the time that had passed since it's inception. A power struggle of business laced with the nostalgia of sexual tension unexplored.
“Straight to business Mr. Solomons. I appreciate that in a man.” She praised as she took her glasses that match his own out of her handbag to place them on her straight nose both gingerly and with a flare of drama. As was her way.
He squinted his eyes, her behaving as if she wasn’t being even mildly suspicious. “Yeah…” he groaned out, and drank in any sign of her possible tells. “Here it is... Miss Durand.” He tapped a ringed finger to the parchment pushed across his desk. “But you can call me Alfie if ya like.” A smile she had seen behind that desk over a year ago awaits her as she meets his confident gaze. Reservation with an undertone of wild possibility sat behind his blue eyes. Same as the first time, she didn’t know if she should shoot him or fuck him.
She smiled with a coy crooked raise of her lip, “Then you may call me Genevieve.” Her breathy response reached his pink-tipped ears. He picked up on her game and the twinkle in her eye as he leaned back in his chair to observe her with his trademark intrusive stare. She had sorely missed having a partner she could play with.
“S’all there. Give it a read. My lawyers made it legitimate.” He studied her as she did just that and is pleasantly surprised when her expression remained unmoved. She truly had been working on her stone face.
“Of course.” She dismissed his instruction with a curt tone as she began. She expected a joke, to be honest. For him to create a negotiation, be that tough bastard and toy with her a bit. But alas, there was a surprise in the words but it wasn’t a joke. “I come here with cheeky intentions and you do this to me?” She inquired, a subtle smirk ghosted across his face at her accusations.
“It’s a binding, legal contract Miss Durand. I’m not sure what you aren’t finding up to your, understandably, high standards.” His words were fast and even.
“I know you make no mistakes in writing these up and this is not one.” She states to assure herself, shaking her head and pressing forward. “Are you quite serious?” She spoke quietly after finding his face unmoved.
“I don’t joke wif business, you should know 'is.” He lowered his chin and gave her an almost cocky brow for having gotten the drop on her.
“A percentage of profits from the items that require my goods?” She paused as she met his inquisitive stare as she rose from her seat. “And the inclusion of my name into the business as a shareholder.” She states, leaving one finger on the paper that now rested lopsided on the desk. She wouldn’t forget the giving terms and she didn’t have to look to recall them.
“Thought it was fair.” A shrug is given in response, his seat creaked as he shifted his weight back.
“It is.” She nodded with narrowed eyes and a curious face.“You’re writing me into your business?” She clarified.
“All legal and bindin’.” He reiterated with a nod and open hands.
“I’d be a beneficiary?”
“Are ya confused Miss Durand? With your circular questions? Doesn’t suit you if ya don’t mind me sayin’.”
“Are you quite serious?” She rose and began a slow walk to his side of the desk, her expression only giving away the confusion and not her intention for the growing closeness.
“Repetitive questions are very telling of the state of shock your in.” He smirked. “I don’t fuck about with me money, love, I’m entirely serious.”
“I am shocked.” She nodded confidently. “ I am woman enough to admit it.”
“Consider it a merger.” He offered as he watched her move closer. A slinking cat in her tight dress. “A partnership.”
“Beyond betrothal?” She stopped and rested her hip against his side of the desk.
“The first gift of many.” He added with a shake of his head and a sweep of his hands. “It’s simple. You’ve given me a lot of goods. I believe you’d be a good fit for helpin’ me out with the bakery, let me focus on the tracks. I won’t have to oversee it if I know you’re handling it.” He spoke with his usual brash bite as he did with business while she stood with crossed arms and a thoughtful composition.
“I’ve never ran a bakery before.” She submitted as her eyes moved about the room.
“You know as much as any baker I’ve got. The rest, the girls can teach ya. You know the best ingredients in the city and how to get them for the best price. It’ll only be beneficial to both of us if you’re up for it. And it is my belief that you are. It wouldn’t be a time suck. Couple times a week, mark the problems, do the books, send it to me to finalize.” He moved his hand toward the contract as he explained.
He watched the acceptance move across her face. He knew she’d find it more than fair and hoped she’d see the sentiment behind it. “You really want to write me in like this?” Her voice a shade softer than before.
“Course. Why the fuck not? You’re the best businesswoman I know.” He stated obviously. “Why buy from outside sources that aren’t as good when I have you right here?” He motioned with his hands to her body and gave her a supportive nod.
“Flattery Mr. Solomons.” She gave him a much softer smile.
“It’s gotten me far.” he nodded, a smile only she could sense invitingly resting on his full lips.
She gave him a brief up and down, work clothes with their usual dusty and billowy nature against his body in recline. She moved to take the pen from the desk and positioned herself between his legs, bending over in front of him and signing the contract with her signature feminine flair.
“Now 'is is….” He stared at her round arse draped in soft fabric. “Less than professional acceptance.” He groaned out with his underlying playful tone obvious to her.
“Do you mind if I respond in a way that’s unprofessional?” she asked as she restedd her hands on the desktop and let him gawk.
“I’d prefer it.” he grunted with a raised brow.
“How long did you have this meeting down for Mr. Solomons?” She asked as she took her hair down and he felt his nostrils flare as he saw her feminine proportions modeled so closely to his itching hands.
“Half an hour.”
“I think we can work within that don’t you?” She gave a smirk he could not see but turned to reveal a thoroughly amused expression looking down at him.
“I’ll work wif any time frame ya got for is love.” He almost growls, putting his hands on her waist to gives it a squeeze.
She slides her fingers, intertwined with his as she tugs him gently closer, moving his hands to her bum. “I think for something like this a little celebration is in order.” Her tone is confident as she moves a heeled foot up onto the arm of his chair, her flared skirt only teasing him with her stocking covered knee.
“Ya know I love celebratin' a good deal.” He responds with hands that slide from her cheeks to her thighs and rest there with a soft back and forth.
“Is this how you would’ve preferred our first negotiation to have gone?” She asked with a tilt of her head, looking innocent enough but the buttons on her top strained as she leaned back onto the desk.
“THAT'S where I know ‘is dress from, yeah?” He nodded with enthusiasm.
“It is.” She answers slowly and rubs her fingers through the longer bits of hair at the crown of his head.
“Don’t remember it being quite this tight last time.” He teased, both his hands move to cup her heavy breasts in the light linen fabric.
“Oh, piss off.” She jabs and ruffles his hair with a playful shake of his head.
“That is NOT a complaint. Lemme make that perfectly fuckin' clear.” He squeezes and plays, hands rubbing up her ribs to give the girls a good solid wobble.
“Crystal.” She hums and accepts the pawing grip at her body. “I thought it fit to wear this to have a bit of fun, living in sin before we’re married. I can be the newcomer Genevieve Durand, and you are the well established and infamous Alfie Solomons.”
“Again, not a complaint…” He begins with a more serious brow. “But where did this come from? Ya’ve been so serious as of late, pet.”
“Thought some reminiscing might be timely and nice. A touch of cheeky indulgence in the middle of the day for us both?” Her fingers keep stroking his head, scratching his beard as he enjoys the feeling of her soft hands doting on him. “Perhaps a nice escape? I get to play a role, and so do you, act out what we both wanted deep down the first time around?”
“And what exactly is it that you want to do to me Miss Durand?” His eyes were issuing a challenge and she was woman enough to answer.
“I think to get a proper feel for your taste for the Abeille Company you should try some of my honey from the source.” Her voice was breathy and soft, fingers slowly pulling up the hem of her dress and showing him her inner thigh as his hands ran up along the backside of them. “I’d also like a demonstration of just how talented that wicked mouth of yours is. I’ve heard you’re such a cunning linguist, Mr. Solomons.” She rests back on her hands and lets his hands explore her soft thighs, fingers tracing the upper binding of her stockings as she looks down at him proudly for her cheeky words.
“I ‘ave been told I have a gift for it. I’d love to give ya a demonstration. Only makes sense we share our skill sets yeah?” He places a single kiss to her bent knee and sighs at the contact. It was good to be reminded that she could, in fact, have fun and be a bit childish. When it was appropriate and with her Alfie love of course.
“I did have the funniest feeling in the pit of my stomach while bartering with you.” His nose ruffles up her skirt like a curious pup, making his way to her silk knickers. “Similar to the one I’m having now.” She smiles and keeps her hand on his head, feeling his soft dark gingery hair run between her fingers. She feels his warm mouth press against her silk-covered center, comforting and arousing all the same.
“Let me see ya love. Gonna wanna remember ‘is.” He speaks quietly but she feels the grit of his need in his voice as it vibrates off her lips. With confident hands, he pulls down her knickers and pushes her knees apart to sit her back on the desk. With a peppering of eager kisses, he reveals her soft pink center by pushing her skirt back over her hips. He says nothing, a bitten lip and dark eyes speaking enough as his fingertips trace and tease her. He plucks the buttons from her top half to reveal more full body in rounds of waves as each moves her breasts closer to release. A show begins for her, a man enamored worshipping at the altar of his love. Mouthfuls of her weighted and now freed tits reverberate as he moans into her flesh. His thumb swipes over her clit, a slickness already aiding him from her own impatience.
He feels her relax and soften beneath his touch. Something she’d been more easily achieving every time they were intimate now, which was becoming a very welcome habit at night for Alfie's heart, but not so much his knees. It was mostly hands and mouths, him taking the lead and pleasing his betrothed how he believed a man should. Her tendency to allow him to lead her through it and lay back and take whatever he gave made her behavior this afternoon particularly surprising.
With his plush lips nestled between her thick and soft ones, attached and lapping, nursing away at her clit her hands hold his head. She scratches up his back, messing up his hair as he works away at her with small nods of his head as she held her knees wide apart for him. She gets to watch him work at her, tongue as pink as her folds and showing its expertise in making her feel good. The shades in the glass widows give them more privacy but the dust in the air makes the sepia light filter through dimly. Making the red in his hair more prominent as she enjoys fussing with it. “I don’t know if you’re a better negotiator or lover, Alfie.” She exhales with shut eyes and a panting mouth.
Although he could exist just fine without it, he did love hearing the praise from someone’s who’s opinion he held in the highest of esteem.
“That wicked, wicked tongue.” She mewled, he groaned and held fast to her thighs. “That tongue has won me over time and time again, Solomons.” Her head falling back as her hands grip into his messy crown of hair. “But I'd like to seal this negotiation with my favorite instrument of yours.” He grunts in amusement as he looks up at her with boyishly eager eyes.
“Would that be me mind?” He asks as he wipes his beard on her inner thighs with messy kisses.
“You’ve already charmed me with your cleverness darling now let me charm you in that throne of yours.” She pushes his shoulder back with her heel and he happily obeys. He leans back, hips pushed out in his relaxed position as she moves to her knees slowly.
“Ah fuck sweetie ya ain’t gotta-“
“It’s been too long, Cheri.” The dark upward turn of her eyes and her low deep tone were enough to stop him as she palmed him through his trousers, moving with a subtle smirk to free him. “Let me remember what a handful you are Mr. Solomons.” She speaks as if conducting business still, taking his rapidly hardening cock into her hands with loose and doting strokes. “Your reputation precedes you.” She coos and kisses his leaking tip. “Heard Alfie Solomons was hard to handle, biggest bollocks of any man in London. Hard. Head… strong.” She leaves another lingering kiss, lips ghosting over the underside of him. “May I present my offer for these negotiations Mr. Solomons?” She was toying with him and the playfulness in her eyes he welcomed. It’d been so long since he’d seen it.
“Yes, please do.” He moans, pushing back a curtain of black hair from her face. “Show me what you’re bringin' to the deal, love.” He rasps out as she takes him into her mouth. A feeling of fullness and closeness she’d missed floods her. The control was a delightful rush as his hands stayed on his chair arms and she worked him with both of hers. The swears begin, the familiar tension in her neck and the moans of exertion and enjoyment all fall back into place. She might’ve been the one on her knees, but it was clearly Alfie who was the one losing control. With a familiar twitch in his veins against her sensitive lips she pulls off him, a quick and precise swish of hair to the side with a hiked up skirt catches him off guard.
“Time for your counteroffer Solomons.” A wicked smile on her face as she slowly jerks and lowers herself onto him, a position of power as she straddled him in the chair. With hands to his shoulders, tits out and in his face, she felt that rush. Oh, to have control again. It made her sigh and swoon, his hands on her, his mouth serving her eagerly. She had a gangster at her beck and call and he was a pup while buried side her, licking and whimpering and eager to please all the same.
“Fuck me, love.” He whispers against heavy pendulous tits that bounce in his face as her thighs burn with the less than familiar use. He forgets the game as she pulls his head back by his hair and uses him. His hands find her hips as she grinds against him.
Genevieve felt her orgasm building, bodies full of friction giving her what she needed, realizing how much she’d missed taking him for a ride, having him beneath her like this. “Fuck, I missed this.” She lets out in an almost whine, hips and chest soft and rippling. “Fuck, I missed you.” She moans out and lowers her head back down to create a small bubble of privacy of her now waist-length hair around them. With her breathing heavy, she pants against his forehead, his hands large and encasing her back as she takes back her power in her old way. There were no bad thoughts as they moaned together, no bad feelings as she felt him fill and stretch her, only deep fondness for the man that could bring this out in her. “I do love your mind... and that filthy mouth... but… your cock should never be undersold.” She lets out a huff of laughter as she wipes her hair from her face, an inner glow of happiness he sees peak through.
Her cheeks flushed pink. Her hair loose and wild with her feminine and full body working itself against his willing one. She looked youthful and content, like he’d seen her after a run in a field of flowers, the lavender smell in the air just the same. “Yours now, Genny.” He manages to get out and she hums at his sentimentality in the midst of play. He knew what she needed, what could power her or drain her and he always delivered with his observant nature. “Brilliant woman like you… knows when she’s got it dunnit she?”
“Yes.” She nods and holds his face. “Your mine Alfie Solomons. Mine. Tell me.”
“Yours, signed in black and white.” She lets our a rolling laugh, a flip of hair and a smile full of teeth as she lets out a school girl squeal and bounces again on him. “Fuckin' hell love ya gonna finish me quick with this lovely little cunt yeah? Been too long I can’t take a ride like 'is like I used to.”
“I’m close Alfie, just… fuck me.” She pleads and he gets to hear crass words from her for the first time in so long. It makes his stomach twitch and his balls tighten. “Give me what I want.”
He takes hold of her hips and makes her grind against him. A play to have her come and give him an extra minute or two of this lusty angel on his lap. “You want it, it’s yours. Long as you’re mine you get what you want yeah?” He grunts through clenched teeth.
“I want you, Alfie.” She moans helplessly, his hand moving her more now than her own hips as they grow weak and stiff for the impending orgasm. “Don’t waste a drop, Solomons, finish inside me. Want every bit of you to be mine.” She lets out without much thought, just hungry for him and the intimacy of abandon she could only feel with him. No one else could make her this way, this safe and secure and loved to let her be free like this. It was an addictive feeling of connectivity that she’d never known before.
“Ya gonna fuckin' get it love, fuck.” He tries to hold back as he feels her tightening around him. A high pitch pant that calls out to every masculine cell of him comes from her swollen lips. As he watches in wonderment of her chest heaving and face becoming so transparent in her feelings as only he can cause, she gasps and begins to shake. “Like fuckin heaven you are yeah?” He kisses her sternum as she tremors and her hips stay steady and grinding, feeling her heartbeat under his lips as she whimpered out his name, only loud enough for him to hear. Her body tenses and swells, a wet mess of both of them on the insides of her thighs as she held his face and kissed him, hips slow and indulgent as they rocked onto his. His hands held her, two calloused palms on each arse cheek, kneading her like the bread he sold upstairs.
“Fuck.” She sighs against his lips as they cool off, a shiver as sweat begins to dry and their hearts slow. “I needed that.” She admits with a relaxed smile.
“Is that how we do deals now?” He asked with a serious face and she lightly slaps him and chuckles.
“Im a fan of it as a business model.” She answers and kisses his forehead as she smooths back his sweaty and fussed hair.
“It’s a good model for adding more Solomons' to the business.” He chuckles as she adjusts his shirt.
“More Solomons'?”
“Yeah, you’re a smart bird ya know staying in like 'is after… keepin' all me in ya like is.” He moves his hands up to her breasts then to her stomach as he speaks. “Recipe for making babies, innit?”
“Ah.” She says with a now knowing nod. “Perhaps.” A coy reply as she raises off him and begins buttoning her top back into place.
“Perhaps?” He scoffs. “Pretty sure there’s only one way to make the little buggers, love.” is his playful answer.
“I know that.” She rolls her eyes. “I just mean... okay? Perhaps as in... if it does… it does?” She shrugs a shoulder casually. “We are to be married soon anyway. Not like having a baby right after marriage is an uncommon sort of thing.”
“It’s not.” He answers simply as he groans and stands, cleaning himself up and shaking out his legs. “Just making sure we’re both on the same page.” He pulls her back in and pushes her hair behind her shoulders. “Didn’t know if you was ready for it yet is all.”
“I am.” She answers softly. “Have been, truly. Not a secret that I wanted to be a mum.”
“True.” He nods. “Ya know I only want to make sure ya doing well. Telling me these sorts of things. No small decision.”
“I think you’re a fine candidate to be a father. Protective, good listener…”
“A fan of full-bodied women with tits that could smother me.” He adds in with a mumble.
It does what he wants and makes her laugh. “They’re going to get so big Alfie. My word. Will I even be able to walk or just topple over?” She teases back.
“I’ll be a proper husband and I’ll hold em up for ya love. Least I can do really.” He offers with a shrug as he cups her chest and feels it move with her laughter.
“After all, you’ll have done it to me.”
“Fuckin' right, love. Wanna watch this belly swell up with me and watch you and the babe grow. Knowing it’s mine… you’re mine… does things to a man.”
“Does things to a woman too.” She smirks. “I want a strong husband to rub my aching feet and rub me down in all my roundness with oils.”
“Oh you won’t keep me hands off that fat arse of yours.” She scoffs and hits his chest and he acts offended. “What? A mum's supposed to have a big bum love! You’re already lookin' like a proper mum with these tits and child bearin' hips. Am I supposed to lie?”
“YES!” She laughs and shoved him and he grabs her back gently and kisses her cheek.
“Ya gorgeous, love.” He offers more sincerely. “And being the greedy bastard I am, the more of you there is the more I get all to meself.”
“There’s that charming tongue again. What a fool I am for it.” She rolls her eyes and sighs, feeling swept away in his charm like a young girl.
“And thank fuck for that.” He says genuinely as he gives ticking kisses to her neck and ears with his whiskers. “What else has an old fucker like me got going for him?” He taunts.
“This meeting was only for half an hour and I’m afraid there’s not enough time left for me to cover them all.” She says with pouting lips that were only a bit patronizing.
He opens his mouth and side-eyes her and gives her a groan. “Oh ya little-C’mere.” He growls and squeezes her tight as she lets out laughs and sighs at his childish behavior. But the break in all seriousness is truly what she needed, a service he provided exclusively for her.
As their lives always do, everything around them keeps moving even as they take small moments to be still and get lost in one another. They part, new contract signed and not being the only thing to remind them of this joining for the day. Besides at the bat mitzvah, there had been no formal announcement of their official coupling. Word traveled fast for people like them, so they figured there was no point in making a fuss about it. The news quickly spread and there were the concerned glances from women who did not know the true Genevieve when she was asked about the truth of the rumors. Alfie, however, was praised for his luck and getting a wealthy and pretty woman, the only insinuation dared in the men’s eyes who mentioned it being of he was sure he wanted to settle.
After an afternoon of business and personal errands, Genevieve arrives in a cheerful mood back home. After their encounter in the early part of the day, it wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic of Alfie to send her flowers, since her abduction he had made it a point to be softer and more affectionate with her in the same ways.
“There was no sender.” Claire proclaimed as she looks up from her papers in her hands, feet tucked under her in the large chair.
“When did they arrive?”
“Before tea.”
“Curious.” Genevieve whispers.
“How so?”
“I hadn’t had my appointment with Alfie yet.” She answers.
“Are they from him? Thought they could’ve been celebratory for the engagement.”
“Normally I would agree... but Alfie always sends cards and a congratulatory sending should have one as well.”
“An oversight perhaps?” Claire shrugs.
“Hmmmm.” Gen hummed. “Hyacinth’s though…” She shook her head. “Very curious choice for such a thing.” She chewed her lip and studied the bouquet. “And in yellow.”
“Forgive my ignorance of the poetic meanings of flora but should that mean something?”
“Means fuckin jealousy.” Alfie answers with a box in his arms as he comes in, all broad in his hat and coat. He sits an opened box onto the table next to the flowers.
“So you didn’t send them?” Gen affirms and he lets out an annoyed sigh.
“No, love I did not.”
“Jealousy?” Claire asks now sitting up and paying attention.
“I got this fuckin' lot of rubbish today as well.” He knocks the box with his hand. Genevieve leans forward and sees a butcher's block of knives.
“An early wedding gift?” Alfie could hear the sarcasm in her voice as she purses her lips.
“Would seem so, yeah?”
“Yellow hyacinth's. ..knives as a wedding present.” Gen chewed a nail with narrowed eyes.
“A knife? Who sends fucking knives? Is it a threat?” Claire asks with growing concern for the quiet non-verbal conversation between Alfie and Genevieve happening in front of her.
“Knives are symbolic. As a wedding gift they are said to bring bad luck and cut the couple apart.” Gen explained.
“In that case it could only be… oh, ANYONE in the city who doesn’t want you together.” Claire groans and slumps at the new obstacle announcing itself.
“Load of superstitious cunts.” Alfie gruffs out and knocks the flowers with the back of his hand.
“I believe we find ourselves once again in agreement.” Gen says with an apologetic and sad smile to Alfie who only stares angrily at the flowers. The pair on the lad to send these to her. He wishes he’d killed him when he had the chance.
“You two might be but who the fuck is daft enough to send something so outright rude and aggressive to you?” Claire demands.
“Stupid fucker.” Alfie shakes his head in annoyance. He knew he’d come back to show his fuck ugly face again. The mad apples never fall far from the tree.
“I believe our former associates the Greeks, or rather Niko, is my guess, has just let us know what he thinks of our engagement,” Gen answers her finally after reaching out to pluck a petal off the stacked flowers and study it. “And he is not happy.”
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baconpal · 4 years
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Bravely Default and BD2
Here it is, the partially prompted bravely default rant/retrospective/whatever the fuck!
With the announcement and demo of bravely default 2 out now for a bigger market than the original game ever had, I feel that as a massive fan of the original I should put some amount of effort into explaining what the appeal of the original is, why bravely second missed a lot of the appeal, and why bravely default 2 has been very, very worrying so far.
If you care about any of that, come on in and I'll try to actually avoid spoilers this time and make this a more legitimate recommendation of a game than usual.
THE APPEAL OF BRAVELY DEFAULT The games obviously have a beautiful art style, especially when it comes to the backgrounds. Every city is like a painting, a beautifully composed shot that you see from just one direction to give you one very strong impression. While the overworld and dungeons are fully 3d and do not have as strong of an artistic impact, they are still very competent and have good colors and cohesive elements. The character design, including the job outfits, the monsters, and all the villains are just top notch. Simple, evocative designs that make the most of the 3DS' limited hardware and build upon the teams skill in making handheld games look good. (its the same team that did the ff3 remake and 4 heroes of light, which looks absolutely kino on original DS) The music is also consistently excellent, with great use of motifing, a full and varied orchestra, and many good slow paced tracks for most of the non-combat segments. Shit like "Conflict's Chime" being the main battle theme, "Infiltrating Hostile Territory" being a common dungeon theme, and "That person's name is" as the rival boss themes makes even the seemingly repetitive songs a constant joy to listen to.
The story is pretty decent, it's not the best part of the game, and there are definitely some aspects of the story some people loathe, but the characters (specifically ringabel fuckin love him) are pretty good and the make for an enjoyable experience. The side material like D's journal are really well done and integrate into the main narrative well for how tucked away and ignored it is.
The gameplay and systems are also some of the best of any RPG I've played, and I've played far too many. The job system from ff3 and 5 is brought to an even greater depth with the addition of universal job abilities, allowing any character of any job make use of another jobs features to create an endless depth to strategy. The way various jobs can mingle together, and how no job is completely perfect on its own makes for very compelling team composition and unit design. The extensive amount of jobs helps as well for replay value and for assuring that no easy winning strategy is found by all players.
The BP system makes battles take on a very unique pacing as the player and enemies can choose to save up turns or blow them all at once to make more complicated strategies possible, or to make the most of an enemies vulnerabilities. This powerful option gives the player a meaningful way to capitalize on their knowledge of the game, while also allowing them to make truly detrimental mistakes. That may sound not good if you're a fucking baby, but nobody wants an RPG you cant lose, but losing because you fucked up is much better than losing because the enemies are just stronger than you or anything to that effect.
But the single greatest part of bravely defaults, which creates the games wonderful balance and unique design philosophy, is that the player is expected to hit the level cap long before finishing the game. Reaching level 99 should occur somewhere just after the middle of the game, at the point where the player has access to almost every job and has encountered almost every type of threat. Reaching level 99 brings with it a certain security, the implication that from then on, all enemies will also be level 99, and that any failure to defeat an enemy will be a result of a bad strategy or the players own mistakes. The game is not easy, and is certainly intended for veteran final fantasy players used to the games with job systems and changing up your entire party to combat a single encounter. Leveling up is not a slow grind part of the game, as you have a lot of control over the speed and frequency of battles, and it is not difficult to keep up with the games level curve.
The other layer to this unique design is that the game expects you to "cheat", or use strategies that would be overpowered and frowned upon in most other games. Bravely default easily expects you to know or discover strategies such as: applying a status to all enemies and killing every enemy with that status using another spell, cycling a counter move over and over to have a nearly invincible party member, applying a healing attribute to a self-damaging character to get huge damage at little cost, casting reflect and dangerous spells on your own party to bounce them at the enemy, or duplicating a move that does maximum damage 15 times in a row. The game builds all of its encounters with the knowledge that your team will be the maximum level and that you will be using the most vile tactics you can come up with, and the game will do the same. Bosses and even common enemies will employ equally vile tactics using the exact same moves that you have access to, meaning you can learn from your enemies or quickly grasp the enemies strategy through your own experiences. One of the late game dungeons is entirely optional, but involves several fights against parties of 4 just like your, using the same jobs and skills you have gained during the game as a perfect test of your ability to develop counter-strategies, instead of relying on your own overpowered tactics. This type of design is really not something you find in many games due to the prominence of grinding or the lack testing strategies, and it is the most true appeal of bravely default to me.
BRAVELY SECOND EXISTS I GUESS So bravely second, a direct sequel to bravely default, definitely is a video game. It uses the original game as a base to generate more content, but completely misses the appeal of the original, and the new content added makes the experience even less focused. Overall, it's still a fairly alright RPG, but it fails to follow up on bravely default in a meaningful way or to provide as compelling of a gameplay experience. Here's some of the things it fucked up.
The game reuses almost everything the original game had, including the same music, world map, and most of the original's towns and dungeons, while adding a few of it's own. Going through areas you've been before never feels good, and the new areas lack the quality or brevity of the original game, leading to uninteresting areas that overstay their welcome, despite being the only break from repetitively reused content.
This extends to the classes but in an even worse sense. One important trait of the original jobs is that they were not perfect by themselves. While every job provided some useful abilities to be shared with other classes, or provided a good base with which to make a character, no class was without flaws. The new classes in bravely second are a lot of the opposite, they are closed loops that think of everything they could have to make a good standalone character. The 4 starter classes you get in bravely second are all brand new, and there's almost no reason to use any class besides those 4 as they are just insanely good. The priest and magician specifically augment magic in a way that makes spells infinity scalable into the end game, completely trampling on any other magic classes territory without needing the extra effort of grinding a new class out. Many of the new job concepts are actually really interesting, like going back in time to return to a healthier state, or a class that changes the stats and attributes of all units in a battle, allowing for all new kinds of strategies; but these classes lack any opportunity to be used to their full potential since they don't mesh well with other jobs and are limited by their self-centered design.
Another completely missed aspect of the original is the level curve discussed before. Bravely second only really requires you get somewhere in the ballpark of level 60-70 to comfortably beat the final boss, and getting too leveled up is really hard to avoid if you are plan to try out various jobs.
Second also fails to account for how many incredibly strong strategies the player can come up with, and even introduces some of its own strategies that it has no way to counteract, such as halfsies (the first skill the first class gets) pretty much splitting the game in two by tripling the value of items like phoenix downs, and allowing for fool-proof strategies by making 1 character focus entirely on defense, effectively making the party unkillable. Essentially, if you play second after having played the original (like any sane person would) then you will absolutely destroy the game with no sense of satisfaction.
The story is also a large step down, enough to become an annoyance, as the writing style changes to a strange romantic comedy situation with, for lack of a better term please forgive my sin, anime writing, but like bad anime writing, ya know the kind of shit that makes people write off all anime cus a lot of it is awkward and unpleasant to listen to. The story tries to mess with some big concepts like "what if new game + was a real thing???" and time travel and shit like that but it doesn't mesh with the tone the rest of the game has and that tone doesn't mesh with the world or art style and it's just a mess.
BRAVELY DEFAULT 2 SEEMS KINDA POOPIE SO FAR So unfortunately, the big appeal of bravely default being part of it's end game makes it hard to judge how 2 is gonna go given we only have a demo of the beginning, but given that the original team behind bravely default has slowly been stripped out of the series as it goes on, the outlook is bleek.
Most immediately obvious is that the artstyle has made a horrible transition from handheld to console, somehow even worse than pokemon. The areas are all fully 3d and lack the style or compositional excellence of bravely default, and the outside environment look like asset store products. The small proportioned characters with simple features to be readable on a small screen have been replaced with identically proportioned characters with excessive detail and ugly features, and look horrible up close on a big screen. Only the negatives of the art style have made it over, and everything good has been made unsavory. The character and enemy design overall is much worse as a result, everything is messy, unclear, and clashes with everything else. It's an absolutely shocking downgrade.
The characters themselves are overly hammy and feel like shallow attempts to have a similar party dynamic to the original without having identical character types, and the writing as a whole doesn't seem to have improved from second, which was already quite a step down from the original.
The gameplay also has not done anything different or interesting yet, and seems to be selling itself to people haven't heard of or gotten enough of the BP system. Enemies being on the overworld as opposed to random encounters shows they have dropped the player agency over encounter frequency, which is dumb. The battles lack any of the flow the original had, especially when using the battle speed option, as the camera does not present everything very well and changes position often as a result. Overall, I have not enjoyed the bravely default 2 demo and feel it shows nothing but a continued decline in the series that likely should have just been a single game. With the release date being set for sometime this year, I feel there is no chance any amount of player feedback could save the game or even begin to pull it in the right direction, as it seems to be fundamentally flawed with an inescapable feeling of shovelware.
SO WHAT? Basically, all I wanted to say here is that the original bravely default is a very unique experience I think every RPG fan should give a good chance (and just do all the optional stuff during the "repetitive" part of the game, it's where all the best content is you bozo) and that the sequels are NOT the same experience. I guess it's kind of mean to just say "hey don't buy or like this new thing cus its not like the old thing" but people should know why there's a bravely default 2 in the first place, and should fight for what made the original great. I worry that BD goes down the same sad path that FF did, becoming a completely hollow, middling series that strayed so far from it's home that a whole new series had to be made to give the fans of the old style a place to go.
Thanks for reading, and hope you got something out of it.
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boy2reality · 4 years
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Fine, I guess I'll just write out what I CAN remember about shapeshifting. >:( [Warning for violence, self-harm, and suicide. Pretty fucked up stuff in this one.]
The first thing I remember about 'shapeshifting' was when I was first getting used to existing in general in the pocket dimension. It was at the stage where I was getting pretty good at copying objects. I cannot for the life of me remember what even happened, but I had gotten really pissed off. I was just... Destroying one of my creations (literally just a wooden ball), when my fucking hand just turns into a fleshy, spiky mace, and I slammed the mace into the ball. My hand felt like it'd fallen asleep completely when this happened. I remember looking at my hand and freaking the hell out, waving it around, like 'get it off get it off!!!' When I stopped shaking, it was back to being a normal hand. I was real fuckin unnerved, stopped being angry real quick.
I'm trying to go sequentially, so I'll talk about the fucked up one next. I had been watching this family for a while. It was a family of three; a dad, a mom, and their son who was fairly young. The mom had some really, really bad depressive episodes, one of which involved her hurting herself in an attempt to end her life. I'm almost positive I hung around just because it was an easy meal involving no effort from me.
Thinking back on this... I don't even know why I did it. Some kind of sick boredom? But I ended up shoving the dad into the pocket dimension. I trapped him in a pit of something sticky (unsure what), and shapeshifted myself into his wife. I revealed I was holding a knife to him, and he went ape shit trying to get out of the goop. But all he could really do is look on as I raised the blade to my own throat. He howled and shrieked his wife's name as I slowly drug it across my throat, cold steel sensitive against my skin. His fear and anguish was probably the most potent I'd ever fed off of.
After I sent him back, I hung around for a little while. The poor guy was losing his mind looking for his wife (who was at work still, I think). His son approached him and he just... Embraced him for a long time. Eventually, the mom came home, and he ran up to her bawling his eyes out. I was already lethargic from being full, but just... Damn. I actually, legitimately feel bad for doing that. That guy didn't deserve that at all.
Now onto brighter things. One of the favorite things I remember doing in this life. Something that really changed how I looked at things back then.
I had one rule when it came to manipulating people for their energy: don't target kids. My morals fluctuated pretty wildly in that life, but I always had that baseline. Don't directly ruin a kid's life.
I remember I was walking around near the eveningtime on a pier. The city I was born in was a place on the ocean, and there was this nice little area with storefronts and restaurants facing it. I think I went there when I really wanted some fresh air.
There was this kid I'd see every time I was down there. Dirty clothes, messy hair, looked like he hadn't showered in weeks. I'd always see him at a pizzeria, where the chef would give him cooked pizza dough. He'd sit on a bench and eat it while watching the waves crash in.
He also happened to have one of the most... Simple, pure-sounding Compositions I'd ever heard. (The closest song I can find to it is Cat, from Minecraft). Listening to it seemed to calm me down no matter how I was feeling. I gathered all the information I needed to know from listening to it. He was an orphan. His mom died when he was young. He lived at a shitty foster home that hardly fed and bathed him.
I'd gotten pretty good at manipulating the pocket dimension at that point. I was to the point where I was able to make small towns out of things, and still keep them looking realistic. I ended up stealing a laptop at some point, and I looked at probably hundreds of images of circuses and amusement parks. I was going to give this kid a day of fun. It was my evil plan.
So, one day while he was snoozing on the park bench, I shove him in. I had a vague impression of what his mother looked like from the time I'd spent listening to him, so I shapeshifted into her, or at least something like her. As soon as he raised his head after landing in, he looked right at me, and his face went white. He just asked... "Mom?" and I extended my hand to him. I told him that the park was reserved for just us today, and that we were going to have a fun day together. He came running up to me, grabbing my hand.
I leaned a little too hard into the 'loving mother' role. I let him ride whatever rides he wanted to. Whenever he said that he wished the park had a certain ride, I smiled, and said 'well, maybe they do, and we haven't run into it yet!', and there it would be after we turned a corner. Me and that kid spent hours running around the theme park that never ended. And during those hours, I realized something.
During that time, that kid was radiating so much happiness, joy, excitement... And it made me feel the same way. I hadn't had that much fun in years. I was still focusing on siphoning energy (mostly because I HAD to, keeping the illusion of an entire theme park is hard work), and I felt so energetic. I didn't feel hungry, I didn't feel lethargic, I just... Felt great. I'd gotten so used to, so ADDICTED to making people feel fear towards me, that I'd forgotten what actually having fun felt like.
So, at the end of the day, I told the kid that it was time to go home, but I had one more place that I wanted to show him. While I was figuring out placements for rides and such, I placed the Space Needle (that huge 200 ft thing that lifts you up and drops you) on the edge of the park... So when you were at the top, you could see the whole park. I told the kid to close his eyes, and I teleported us to the very top of it. We sat down and admired the view for a little while. I was pretty proud of all the work I'd put into crafting all the stuff.
After a moment, he looked at me, and told me that he knew that I wasn't his mom. I let out a sigh, and just said, 'welp, I tried, at least.' The kid laughed at me, and we stared out over the park for a few more moments. Then he asked me if he could see what I really looked like.
I was very, very tempted to shapeshift into something terrifying... But the kid's Composition was so pure, that I knew he wasn't going to have any foul intent with what I looked like. He genuinely just wanted to know. So... I dropped the act. Let the kid see me in all my stupid pink-haired glory. He got a little wide eyed, and told me that I was the 'guy he saw on all the posters'. I kind of chuckled at him, asking if I was that famous.
He told me that he'd heard a lot of bad things about me. I could tell he was getting nervous, but I also sensed confusion. He asked me a lot of questions, mostly of why I didn't hurt him. Why I didn't scare him. There'd been a lot of reports about how I abducted people and traumatized them. I ended up breaking down pretty badly in front of this poor kid, explaining that I didn't necessarily WANT to hurt people, I was just operating off my survival instincts, and it got to my head... I don't think he understood. But he taught me a pretty valuable lesson.
After it was all said and done, I warped him back to the pier. I never contacted or went around him again. The whole encounter kept me fed for a way longer than any fear ever did. It really made me shift out of 'primal instincts hunter' mode, and helped me feel like a person again. Food wasn't the only reason to stay alive. I didn't WANT to just live day to day, wondering how I'd get my next meal. So... I changed my approach. But that's a story for another day.
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1. Have A Seat
Ivy haphazardly pulled into one of the many empty parking spaces and threw the silver Nissan in park, opening her door.
"It is too fuckin hot," she groaned leaning out, her white coffin nails resting on the inside door handle. "I know I said I wanted summer to hurry up and get here but bitch I'm bout ready for fall.."
She was crooked and straddling the white line. If she'd parked between cars, she may have backed out to straighten up so that no one would dent her door or chip her paint, but since the only other cars were at the surrounding businesses, she closed her door and lifted in her seat to bare her full rows of teeth in the review mirror, passing her tongue over them. She hadn't flossed in the past two weeks, but she'd brushed her teeth for a second time in the day after lunch with a travel sized toothbrush in the bathroom at her job.
Turning her head right to left in the mirror, she examined all of her teeth close up before checking the corners of her eyes for boogers, the green of her irises lit by the sun shining through the window.
"My eyes look bout big as shit," she mumbled pulling her tube of chapstick to smear back and forth across her full naked lips without breaking her own eye contact.
"Okay shut up.." She pushed the radio to quiet the new Katy Perry song threatening to assault her ears and looked at her reflection once more before turning off the car. The A/C cut with it of course which meant it was time to go.
Climbing from the car, she looked up at the brick building with one of its offices labeled Orthodontist. Luckily, it was easy to find, she'd just never been inside. She drove passed it every day to get to work. It was a nine minute drive from her apartment. From work, it was about thirty minutes however and that was how long it'd taken to get there today.
The weighted glass door was tinted but once she put a little muscle to it, it opened to reveal a small but comfortable looking space with calm water blue walls and daytime television at a murmuring volume, mounted to the far right wall.
Two opposing leather navy couches sat invitingly. A small blue model sailboat sat on the tall receptionists counter that Ivy found herself standing in front of. It seemed to come to her neck. A petite black girl with long black box braids and deep skin of about the same age was typing on the computer, but she looked up immediately, a polite and professional smile on her face as she turned in her chair. She had small elfish features, high pointy ears, and perfect teeth.
"Hi, you have an appointment?"
"Yeah, Ivy Stevens. This is my first time here though, I-"
"Stevens? Your name is Stevens too? That's so cool. Dr. Stevens is amazing. Have you already spoken to him about your records?"
"Yeah, my dentist said he sent the requested information and I wondered if y'all got it."
"One sec, hon, I'll pull you up. Okay.. Yep, we've got em. Your insurance.. Okay.. Looks like you're set just fill out the intake paperwork."
Taking the clipboard, Ivy sat on the couch closest to the door she'd come through. She completed the paperwork fairly quickly before handing it back.
"Thank you. Have a seat. Dr. Stevens will be right with you."
As Ivy returned to the couch, her eyes darted about taking in her surroundings. It had a nautical feel. Artwork hung on the walls consisting of framed big ships on the ocean and then there were the abstract paint swipes with various shades of blue. Magazines were splayed on the end tables that met each couch and there was a floor abacus-type game meant for kids set aside neatly under the opposite end table along with a puzzle and a coloring book.
As nice as it was, right now A/C was its best feature.
"..I don't care what he told you, if it's not in writing.. see that's why you need to get things in writing," Judge Mathis nodded sternly toward the defendant before grabbing his gavel. "Case dismissed."
The woman tried to argue.
"No evidence, no case," he countered.
"Stevens," a questioning voice called chipperly.
Ivy turned her head to see the elfish girl smiling brightly as she held open the wooden door conjoining the waiting room to the hall. Her clothes were different. This time she wore light blue. Ivy's eyes darted briefly to the receptionist's desk and the girl was sitting there too in the same white getup. Okay identical twins. It clicked in Ivy's mind making sense and she followed the blue twin to the back.
"Have a seat and Dr. Stevens will be out in a second," the blue elf said disappearing. Ivy settled onto the bed-like dentist's chair with her legs extended, ankles crossed, and her keys and phone in hand. Her eyes shut as she waited, resting her lids. It was about two minutes or so before she heard shuffling.
She looked over to her left to find a man wearing light blue scrubs under a crisp white coat sitting on a stool and looking intently at a computer screen. She could tell he was young from the back, close to her age. The back of his head was faded into a top full off short dreadlocks. His long leg was extended off to the side, telling Ivy that he was tall and his poised left hand lightly touched the mouse. It was lively and held no wrinkles or ring. It looked strong though he moved with a gentle flow of ease.
Even through the scrubs and the coat, his build was such that she could tell he was active. He was visibly fit like he did intense sports or spent hours at the gym. Ivy watched his back waiting to see his face, but he was focused on the screen. Her nails drummed against her  Rick and Morty phone case in curiosity.
"Ms. Stevens.. you sure we aren't related?" The texture and richness of his tone and his cadence said round-the-way nigga, but the way he enunciated sounded practiced for white America.
"Depends.. your family from Florida?"
"Nah." The warmth of the smile in his voice could be felt and Ivy continued to stare at his locks and shoulders waiting to see his face to see if it matched. "Cali by way of Wakanda."
"Orlando from Antigua."
"I can hear it in your voice. What you doing on the west coast?" He clicked the mouse a couple of times and slid his foot as she tried hard to see more of his side profile. She could see he had a beard and small studded earrings
"What you mean? I ain't think I had an accent."
"Believe me when I say you do."
Finally he turned and Ivy's eyes widened as she whispered a low, "Damn" catching his reaction.
"You good?" His brows rose and he slid his stool to her right side getting closer. His dainty flattered smile gave her a glimpse of a few white teeth. She liked that. He was sexy and he had nice teeth. A good job too?
"Alright Ms. Stevens," he paused looking her in the eye, "Looks like you're here for a cleaning but you also want a filling.."
She wanted to be filled all right.
"I'll need to take some pictures of your teeth first if that's alright. It should be fairly painless. We'll work on the composite filling for a natural look and then we'll move into the cleaning."
"That's fine."
"Have you felt any pain or discomfort in your teeth?"
"Yeah, my bottom row. Right in here," she pointed watching his eyes train onto the tooth in question. His focus was making her hot.
---
Erik cranked the womans's chair leaning her torso back so that he could see her teeth more clearly. He draped a lead apron over her chest and took a blue rubber glove and pulled it onto his hand, pulling and adjusting the thin rubber over his palm. His middle finger held down her bottom lip gently as he peered into her mouth looking to the tooth she'd pointed out. It was a molar, tooth 19 to be specific.
"Bite down."
He placed a positioner between her top and bottom teeth and positioned his x-ray cylinder getting behind the radiation generator to take the picture. He repeated the process on both sides of her mouth.
"See, painless," he smiled moving back to the computer screen to analyze the x-rays. He could see the negative space in the tooth in question along with another tooth. "Looks like two cavities."
"The fuck? Two?"
"Don't worry I'm a fill em both today and you'll be good to go... just remember to floss. Always floss. If you go by the receptionist desk before you go, Saraya will make sure you get floss along with a sample of listerine... Okay." He moved back to her right side and pulled out a q-tip. "Here we go, open up for me?"
Nervously she opened her mouth and he swiped the q-tip gently over her gums.
"This is a topical numbing cream so that when I inject you.. you won't feel it. Ideally when you're getting work done, you don't wanna feel it."
He didn't expect an answer because she couldn't yet move her mouth, but the conversation was mostly to ease her anxiety. Patients tended to relax somewhat as long as he spoke to them constantly.
"That numbing gel kicking in yet?"
"Uh-huh," she grunted.
"Good.. Now, this is the anaesthetic. I'm a inject you and you should barely feel it."
"O-ha," she grunted. His experience as a dentist translated her response automatically. Okay, she'd said. He presented the needle and poked her gums at the injection site. He waited a few moments having injected her,  walking over to the computer again.
"How you doing," he asked as his fingers drummed on the keyboard. Her voice was low in response.
"I'm doing okay."
"Good.. I'm just giving it time to kick in. The more time you give it, the less you feel."
"That's good. I don't wanna feel it, I heard it could hurt and I don't like pain.." Her voice was getting lower and lower.
"Any moment now," he assured her letting the room go quiet as he stepped out for a minute. On his return, he went straight back to her x-rays before continuing to type through a couple of silent minutes.
"We still doing alright?"
No response. He waited a second deciding to ask again.
"Ms. Stevens.. you alright? How numb are you right now from a scale of 1-10."
Her only response was soft but heavy breathing. His fingers went still on the keypad, and he looked over at the woman to see that her eyes were shut. Her lips were slightly parted. He waved his hand in front of her eyelids getting no response.
"Saraya," he called and his receptionist appeared almost immediately, her smile wide. "Bring me my tools and lock the front door."
Her eyes glinted, her excitement rising. She turned leaving from his sight returning with a rolling silver metallic cart stocked with tools that were neatly arranged. He turned back to the computer screen exiting and discarding the dummy word document he'd been typing gibberish in for the past few minutes. When he turned back, Saraya was close to the woman's face.
"Aht, let's give Ms. Stevens some space please."
Saraya's hand reached out to stroke the woman's face with her index and Erik picked up the Bushcraft knife from the metallic cart swiping his thumb lightly over the sharp, smooth edge. It was a medium-sized knife with a sturdy, thick steel blade. Not one of his better knives, but useful and handy.
"Her skin is so soft," Saraya grinned in awe, her fingers lightly brushing the sleeping woman's cheek. She flinched, her smile dropping, and she froze when the knife whizzed by her cheek knicking her in the exact same spot where she'd touched the patient before thudding to the ground.
"That was my second time telling you.. Don't make me tell you again."
Saraya's face had fallen from the shock, but now the grin was back full force. "You spared me," she purred slowly standing and putting distance between herself and the body. "..She's all yours." Backing from the room with her hands in the air she disappeared and Erik's eyes returned to the sleeping young lady.
He sighed looking from her face to the phone and keys in her hand. Those had to be taken and he had the perfect space for them on the second tier of his cart. He was sure to turn the phone completely off.
"Let's get you trussed up, Ms. Stevens," he whispered reaching for the crimson bundle of rope. The color excited him as he wrapped it around his hand.
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inkblotdemon · 4 years
Text
Ranking Every Shitty Archer’s Goon Book Cover
That’s right kids, I’m back with another one. First off, Archer’s Goon is an extremely fantastic book, that you should absolutely read as soon as possible. Secondly, and most amusingly, it is the only other DWJ book to be adapted for screen apart from Howl’s Moving Castle. This was an extremely bonkers choice and the TV miniseries reflects that with how goddamn bonkers it is. Thirdly, there are thirteen covers of this book and apparently none of them were really designed to try to entice a human being to want to read the book.
I’m including the miniseries DVD covers here. for funsies. I’m also gonna translate them (badly. with google translate.) Extra points will be awarded for inclusion of Torquil (the best character in this book, or probably any book) or Awful (the second-best character), as they should.
also, partly to blame for this post is @anders-was-right​ who suggested I do it in the tags of the last DWJ ranking. If enough people want me to, I’ll find every Howl’s Moving Castle cover and rank them by Howl hotness.
1. 七人の魔法使い - Seven Wizards - It works. It’s sturdy.
Miho Satake wins once again! Look, I just feel like she really understands the spirit of DWJ books. Excellent backdrop, curving columns, strange buildings, moon... Points for the enormity of the goon. Points for how disgruntled Quentin looks.
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2. Das Geheimnis des Siebten Zauberers - The Secret of the Seventh Wizard - My favourite title! Better than the original title.
This Quentin is all wrong, he’s far too serene- unless! this is Hathaway. It sorta looks like him, the period clothing and background suggest it’s him... Why would you put Hathaway on the cover? I don’t know but I love Hathaway so I’ll make excuses. Mystifying but somewhat enticing. I’d pick this book up.
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3.  Same title as above.
This one has a very ‘classic 80s kids Scifi book’ feel- I’m not mad at it. MAJOR points for this being the only cover to have a proper spaceship on it. Both too confusing and too mundane.
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4. Ловушка для волшебников - Wizard Trap - Eh. It works.
I truly truly enjoy the magic floating pages and these Russian covers generally sit well with me but the vibe is far too cheerful. Awful looks almost cute, Quentin looks downright merry, Howard... actually, I like this Howard quite a bit. But the goon looks awful. I spy Torquil in the background there, and I wish I could see more of him.
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Everything beyond this point is a sin and is getting sent to graphic design jail. You have been warned.
5. And now we come to our first DVD cover! This time it’s called ハワードと七人の魔法使い - Howard and the Seven Wizards - which happens to be slightly factually incorrect, if you think about it.
It appears to feature Torquil not once but TWICE, forgoing multiple other siblings to do so! I approve HEARTILY. The setup works (ish), Awful (if that is her) looks suitably angry, there is a spaceship, albeit a bad one. Also, the goon himself has been entirely forgone in favour of other characters, which I feel indifferent about. 
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6. Fuck, this one is so weird. It looks like a manual on how to stand up to your imposing father. I do not enjoy this. I do not understand it. Trapping just Howard and the goon in a doorway to what looks like the afterlife (?) was a truly strange choice. Also, weird typography.
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7. Is this really the UK DVD cover?? It really, really looks like a documentary on abusive parenting or something. This is so totally, utterly wrong in every way that I actually sort of don’t know what to say about it. Where on earth is everyone? The only reason it’s scored so well is because I don’t find the image itself actively offensive to the senses.
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8. הבריון של ארצ'ר - Archer’s Bully. This is the one with the most literal title translation by FAR. Eh.
I truly dislike this one, starting with the offensive orange and the rather unusual forced perspective thing going on. I’ve been staring at it for too long and it’s freaking me out, I need to move on.
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9. Ew! I’ve seen this one around quite a bit. Ew!  a really horrid looking goon. A too-neat Howard. Awful looks okay. This just has stale vibes. No child would ever willingly pick this book up.
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10. This is the most popular cover! OH NO! Why the goon, Dillian, and Torquil? What a weird choice. What are they doing, anyway?? What’s the weird little moat? WHY DOES THE GOON LOOK LIKE THAT?
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Points for Torquil and points for his jewellery and makeup (many points) but minus points for how weird he looks.
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Bonus: also the Danish cover- De Syv Magter - The Seven Powers - A better title than the Seven Wizards. Maybe.
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bonus bonus: Also the Swedish cover. same translation. WHY IS THIS THE POPULAR COVER.
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bonus bonus bonus: also the cover of the Finnish edition, except this one- Kyylän Kyydissä- means ‘Riding Away’, or maybe ‘On the Ride’??, by far the weirdest title. I don’t know how it relates to the book. If you speak Finnish, please come explain this mystery to me.
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11. Oh! My! God! really horrible, utterly unmagical, hideous composition, the goon is too mundane but also too creepy, like your weird neighbour who peers over the wall into your garden while you’re playing with your cat. That tagline is no good. I like nothing about this image.
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12. ‘HE WAS BIG, HE WAS UGLY AND HE WAS IN THEIR KITCHEN’?????? that TYPEFACE, where did they even find that typeface! the sickly green background! Poor Fifi looking like that!
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13. I own a second copy of this book. It has this cover. I keep it under my bed because I can’t look at it. It doesn’t even get points for Torquil, it looks like a poster for the world’s worst Night at the Museum ripoff. The type is the ugliest it could possibly be. The colours are the ugliest they could’ve chosen. And the worst crime? fuckin’ ‘AS SEEN ON TV’.
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borisbubbles · 5 years
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Eurovision 2010s: 60 - 56
60. Emma - La mia città Italy 2014 
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Emma is short for “Emmanuella”. 😍 Clearly the inspiration for this act:
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You may not know this, but “La mia citta” is probably my favourite song out of 2014? It’s ROCKIN’ A RIDE (na na na na na na) of high voltage energy that I instantly became addicted to.  😍 Of course we were also immediately forewarned that Emma couldn’t sing her own song (which is hilarious, but yeah  😬)  so I was expecting a ready disappointment.  What I did NOT expect however was that Italy would yank UP the fun factor by trapping Emma into the direct-to-video sequel of Tinto Brass’s Caligula and letting her steal the show even more. 😍 ITALY <3 <3 <3 
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The vocals may have been beyond subpar, but Emma flailing herself around the stage, contorting her body in IMPOSSIBLE angles, dismissively pushing the beta manfolk around like the boss she is gives me SO MUCH LIFE. If she had sung in a key that suited both her voice and the song, she would’ve ranked even higher, but a spot right outside of the highest tier will have to do. ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS OF TERRIBLE TASTE. 
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59. AWS - “Viszlát nyár” Hungary 2018
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[2018 Review here]
GIVE ME FIRE, I’M A FIGHTER!
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2018 may not have been as great of an experience for me as it has been for many others, but good god did it NEED AWS. A 2018 without AWS has no high voltage, uptempo, loud, aggro ENERGY. “But Boris there’s also Toy” yeah no. Na na banana I do what I wanna :-) 
and honestly, why shouldn’t we love “Viszlát nyar”? Loss songs that instead of mourning solemnly burst into a primordial tempest of ire and flame. IT’S INTENSE, all thanks to Orz’s excellent performance. 
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and this comes WITHOUT the consideration that AWS were the backstage deities for the 2018 contest as well, providing many hilarious interviews and other moments of levity. 
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AWS were great, because they weren’t a typical Eurovision entry. They are an indie metal band from Hungary that won A Dal by accident and in doing so were thrusted into an adventure beyond their wildest expectations. They never took Eurovision seriously, but regardless they had loads of fun with it and so did I. We will continue this line of thought when we get to a certain deadpan Slovene duo, much, much later in this ranking. 🤭
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58. Loïc Nottet - “Rhythm inside” Belgium 2015
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Cutting Loïc means I have my change my t-shirt into the one my friend gave me for my 25th birthday (😍)
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and I mean what is there to say about Loïc? He’s widely regarded as one of the most artistic and memorable entrants in recent years, sparking a hot streak of entries which ended when Sennek refused to rehearse her song/come up with an act. 
I may as well use this moment for a little confession: Avant Garde is one of my favourite Eurovision genres. AG entries are always interesting, always delivering, always different from what we’re used to. They are brave and inspired. When well-executed they can easily becomes some of the all-time best Eurovision entries.
“Rhythm inside” also falls into the category, taking a fairly simple subject (the beating of the human heart) and turning it into a metaphilosophical journey of discovery, star matter and mindblowiness. Loïc launched “Rhythm” into greatness, providing excellent vocals, dancing and miming. 
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and also like all amazing things in life, it contains a small dose of SuRie: 
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However, avant garde often comes with one massive problem: poorly-executed AG tends to frame every twirl, fart and headturn as a testament of some highly ~artistic vision~ when it adds nothing of value. In other words, fuckin’ meaningitis. “Rhythm inside” is actually one of the worst offenders, imo. For every epic moment of Loïc gazing into the camera or twirling around like an ebon cygnet, we get a tryhard one in which somebody lays themselves down and starts kicking their feet into the air for no reason and *sigh*. 
It saddens me that  “Rhythm inside”, despite being a very innovative composition that explores the boundaries of music, tries too hard to sell its own artistry and well... it is that moment of self-doubt which prevents me from ranking it inside the elite tier. BELIEVE IN AND LOVE THYSELF!!!
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57.  Madame Monsieur - “Mercy” France 2018
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[2018 Review Here]
Every year is defined by its political zeitgeist, and in 2018 there were two defining themes: #MeToo, covered by “Toy”, and “Transmigration” covered by Madame Monsieur. I soon was convinced one of them would win 2018, which happened, but sadly it was the weaker of the two entrants 😭
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Regardless, Madame Monsieur deserve all the praise they can get. It is SO easy to take a topic such as “migration” and turn it into an Americanized story of Wrong And Right. It’s SO easy to turn it into a sob story. It’s SO easy to cheapen the plight over others for self-gain. It is important to remain authentic, austere and respectful. 
Which is exactly that Madame Monsieur did. 
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Using a peppy synthpop beat as a platform to carry their haunting lyrics (”je suis ces enfant que la mer a pris” ::shivers::), Emilie and Jean-Karl turn “Mercy”, a tribute to a baby born at sea to refugee parents, into a true humanitarian hymn, focusing on their message and letting this speak for itself. The end result is pretty potent. THE SEA OF FISTBUMPS <3
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So naturally I really fucking love “Mercy”. However, I also think it was lacking in the little area of staging. While I do think the intent of keeping it sober and free of gimmicks was a clever coice, the gut-punching message didn’t exactly come across.
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The act was too subtle. It’s the Hassani story of France getting outclassed by Italy at the last second, but much stronger than with Bilal. I don’t think the lack of LEDs was the issue though, like, just bring stage props? Work the camera more? It sucks that I have to nitpick so close to the highest tier, but the fact that I do proves to me that “Mercy” can’t make it that far. RIP sweet synth angels. 
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56. DiHaj - “Skeletons” Azerbaijan 2017
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[2017 Review here] Another lovable avant garde angel, morph! DiHaj improved quite a bit for me on the rewatch, but I can’t let her move onto the elite tier for reasons that I think are obvious. (If they are not, please unmute your computer.)
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HOWEVER, I do think “Skeletons” a great, dark moody song that is highly entertaining. It is, for the most part a great example of how to do novelty at Eurovision: It displays the greatest strength of modern Azerbaijan: the visually stunning SPECTACLE. Music is supposed to a form of expression and DiHaj goes ALL OUT.
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Of course, I understand that the act isn’t to everyone’s taste and it does suffer a *little* bit from Fuckin’Meaningitis™ , which is fair enough. At the same time... the story told here is pretty obvious? There is no dispute that this song is about a broken relationship and the moral dilemma that often comes with it. Azerbaijan stuck with the source material provided by the song and that makes Skellingtons’ act much better than that of “Rhythm inside”. It’s a captivating story, because it makes sense. 
Too bad those Professional Swedish Backings sounded like crap tho...x
And that was the last of Azerbaijan,
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After a pretty terrible start of the decade, Azerbaijan reinvented themselves as trash angels and the rest is herstory. I hope they continue to dazzle us with ridiculousness in the years to come. 😍
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And now we move on to the higher tier. CONGRATULATIONS TO THESE (nearly) FLAWLESS ANGELS:
2010 
Juliana Pasha - “It’s all about you” Tom Dice - “Me and my guitar” Kuunkuiskaajat - “Työlki ellää” Jessy Matador - “Allez ola olé” Giorgos Alkaios & Friends - “OPA” Paula Seling & Ovi - “Play with fire” maNga - “We could be the same”
2011
Dino Merlin - “Love in rewind” Poli Genova - “Na inat” Lena - “Taken by a stranger” Maja Keuc - “No one”
2012
Ott Lepland - “Kuula” Pasha Parfeny - “Lăutar” Loreen - “Euphoria”
2013
Elitsa Todorova & Stoyan Yankulov - “Samo shampioni” Koza Mostra ft. Agathonas Iakovidis - “Alcohol is free” Gianluca - “Tomorrow” Who see ft. Nina Zizic - “Igranka” Anouk - “Birds” Zlata Ognevich - “Gravity”
2014
Aram MP3 - “Not alone” Conchita Wurst - “Rise like a phoenix” Cleo - “My słowianie- We are slavic” Tinkara Kovač - “Round and round” Ruth Lorenzo - “Dancing in the rain” Sebalter- “Hunter of Stars”
2015
Elina Born & Stig Rästa - “Goodbye to yesterday” Nadav Guedj - “Golden Boy” Aminata - “Love Injected” Polina Gagarina - “A million voices” Bojana Stamenov - “Beauty never lies” Måns Zelmerlöw - “Heroes”
2016
Iveta Mukuchyan - “LoveWave” Laura Tesoro - “What’s the pressure?” Poli Genova - “If love was a crime” Nika Kocharov & Young Georgian Lolitaz - “Midnight gold” Hovi Star - “Made of Stars” Francesca Michielin - “No degree of separation”
2017
NAVIBAND - “Story of my life” Blanche - “City lights” Joci Pápai - “Origo” fusedmarc - “Rain of revolution” JOWST ft. Aleksander Wallmann - “Grab the moment”
2018
Rasmussen - “Higher ground” Elina Nechayeva - “La Forza” Ieva Zasimauskaite - “When we’re old” DoReDoS - “My lucky day” Lea Sirk - “Hvala, ne!” ZiBBZ - “Stones”
2019
Kate Miller-Heidke - “Zero gravity” Mahmood - “Soldi” KEiiNO - “Spirit in the sky” Zala Kralj & Gašper Šantl - “Sebi”
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saltine-kakyoin · 4 years
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PLEASE what is sda I’m super curious I’ve seen u mention it so many times and now I Gotta Know
ahh, ruth!! howdy! I would like to apologize if this ask is all over the place, ya girl is currently goin thru an emotional meltdown + this is my only respite 🤠
The Sergio-Divergent AU is my Baby 😭 it started out as two separate aus, actually! The first one was an "all the crusaders live" au and the second was a "joseph had a son who is josuke's father" au because I could not and tbh still can't accept Joseph cheating on the legend that is Suzi. I realized there was no reason to have them as two separate aus, so they became one.
I have a more detailed page about it all if you're on desktop, but I'll give you the quick rundown! Years after Holly is born, Joseph and Suzi have another son, Sergio! He spends a lot of his childhood with Lisa Lisa because everyone is super busy, and bc of that he gets the whole 411 about his family's history and Hamon. Joseph doesn't let Lisa Lisa send his kid through Hell Climb Pillar, so Sergio and Lisa Lisa agree on music as a good way to practice Hamon. He becomes a huge music kid because of this, which leads to him becoming really good friends with Sadao! (much to joseph's despair lol) He is mcShooken when Jotaro is born, and spends many weekends and school vacations in Japan with the Kujos bc he adores the little guy.
Aside from having Funky Breathing Powers, he has a relatively normal life until he graduates from uni! He has a mild existential crisis, but Sadao comes in to save the day and gets him a few gigs over in Japan. This is where Sergio meets Tomoko, and they hit it off really well (after Holly is able to convince him that yes, she is flirting with him lol).
There's a golden year or two where things are nice. Tomoko graduates from uni, and Sergio gets a nice residency for his compositions! They get engaged! But, things go haywire when Tomoko is like bro.. I am jus DYIN?? And they rush to the hospital to find out!! AHHH the bitch has been pregnant the whole time and her baby said yo I'm fuckin outtie! (I wasn't entirely keen on this concept at first, but this exact thing happened to my sister so I will let it be) Cue the age of madness, in which Sergio and Tomoko try to juggle their jobs, their upcoming wedding, and their newborn.
Things get even madder when Joseph rings to be like, "Heyyy... I do not mean to alarm you but we found Dio's coffin and, uh, he's not in it lol." Sergio is deeply alarmed by this bc Dio was like, the monster under his bed AND in his closet as a kid. He filed the fear away growing up because Dio was dead and couldn't hurt anyone anymore, but now!! Aha! He tries to keep sensible about it, and to his credit, he does for about a year! But then Dio makes his thotty thotty trip to Japan to go crazy go stupid with Giorno's mother and Sergio, a Joestar and big experienced Hamon user, feels his presence deeply. (Dio also senses him [and Holly, Jotaro, and Josuke but he has no idea lol]) All pretense is thrown out the window, Sergio flips his lid because not Only is dio back... but hE'S IN JAPAN AHH.
There's a mild lapse in logic here because it'd be safe to assume that Dio's in Japan to kill all of them? But right now Sergio's just like, he's here to kill ME (and then everyone else. The idea rn is that Dio's coming for him first bc he poses the largest threat, but ahh idk.) Anyhow, Sergio has a mild meltdown about it and postpones the wedding because he doesn't want to run the risk of making Tomoko a widow. Tomoko is not pleased by all of this and is like bro.. you've gotta go to Tibet and get better at fighting with Hamon, I'll go live with my dad in the meantime.
So he goes to Tibet! I need to rework this section a bit, so I won't write too much about it. But! His stand, Golden Prophet, manifests here + he is directed to Abdul by one of Abdul's childhood friends! (This is messy to read, sorry! This is an artifact from before the rework, and I haven't addressed it yet ahh) So he goes to Egpyt, and becomes good buds with Abdul as he learns how to use GP better. The whole time, he's been having the migraine and nightmare of his Life because Dio is also in Egypt! Confident (and perhaps too confident) in his abilities, he sets out to kill the family scourge once and for all. However, he's intercepted by a particularly destructive stand user, Suad, whose stand circumvents his own. He ends up suspended in mid-air by a pole through his lung, which. :( He freaks out for a hot moment bc he Knows there's no way out, and that he won't get to go home and marry Tomoko or help her raise Josuke. In the mania, he has a moment of lucidity and realizes nobody knows Dio's whereabouts except for him... So, he uses Golden Prophet to make one final spirit audio call to his dad, and spills all the beans. With his final breaths, he urges Joseph to seek out Abdul and also make sure Tomoko and their son are well supported.
The stand user, Suad, comes back into consciousness during this phone call and realizes that Sergio is not as horrible as Dio made him out to be, and that he's literally just a Dude. He's just a dad. Wracked with guilt bc she is also just a parent trying to secure a future for her child, Suad defects and seeks Abdul out herself. Abdul is familiar with some of Dio's stand users, but Suad was one of them and knows More. She tells him everything she knows + acts as one of his informants.
This is all set-up for the "All the Crusaders Survive" part of the AU. Joseph is way more cautious going into Egypt because it already claimed his son's life. The Speedwagon Foundation is way more present in Cairo, which is fundamental to Kakyoin's survival. The rest of the AU is very long and basically just follows everyone in the aftermath of the crusade and beyond!
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dungeoneering102 · 5 years
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Improving Cults
So recently I had a post about how cults should be designed (IMO). I mentioned the four cults present in the D&D module Princes of the Apocalypse and said how those were really bad examples. Due to some interest, I decided to make this post that elaborates on how I have altered those four cults to make them more realistic and interesting.
Why I Dislike the Original PoA Cults
In the original book, the Players are supposed to face off against 4 cults: the Black Earth, Howling Hatred, Crushing Wave, and Eternal Flame. Each of them have a leader (referred to as “prophet”) and work semi-together to summon super powerful creatures called “Princes.” The book also mentions that they all serve the “Elemental Eye.” Here are my problems with this set up:
We don’t ever get told what the Elemental Eye is. It seems to be just a pedestal or an unnamed entity. But it’s never explained.
The cults work together. This makes them all just fade into each other. There’s no drama because now the players are just fighting a large group that happens to have 4 leaders.
The cults all have the same goal but very little distinguishing elements in terms of their philosophy or approach to said goal.
So let’s try to fix this...
Elemental Eye
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I hate that this aspect is never explained. It was just so very vague and yet its what commands the four cults. Supposedly, the Eye has given the cults their power and influence. In turn, it will somehow eventually inform the cult leaders on what ritual to conduct to summon their respective Princes. The Eye does this only WHEN the Party kills the first two Prophets. So I changed it all around.
The Eye is a physical thing. It is a stone of great power, supposedly locked within the altar in Fane of the Eye dungeon. In my story, the Eye calls forth the four Prophets, but informs them that it will only choose the STRONGEST among them. This is important and I’ll discuss why below. But now it is a physical thing and once ONE of the Prophets proves themselves powerful enough, the Eye is gifted to this person. All others die upon touching the Eye.
Lastly, to get to the eye, each Prophet has to prove that THEIR cult is the strongest and has the most influence. They do this by getting the most recruits and building beacons across the valley. The beacons are something that you can see in the module’s artbook section, although they’ve been cut from the final game. I re-inserted them as buildings that would be a sign of the cults�� growing in power. Your PCs can stumble onto these as they explore the valley. The cult that proves to be most influential, gets to summon their Prince.
The Cults DO NOT Work Together
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Around the Renaissance Era, the Christian church had several divisions. New branches and sects appeared all over Europe, and started fighting over who is the TRUE CHRISTIAN church. They all believed in the same God and Jesus. What was different is how they worshiped these figures. The result was a complex political game fought between these powerful and rich churches over the souls of their followers and the influence over Europe. These conflicts ended with people fleeing Europe, the Catholic Church setting people on fire, and a very powerful shift in the politics of the time.
I think, that’s a pretty interesting story. So why are the cults of PoA just working together, with some minor issues between them? I say cut them the fuck apart. They are four individual cults. They believe in the same deity (the Eye) but go about worshiping it in different ways. They each have their own beliefs and philosophies that conflict with one another, and pit them against each other. Why do we do this? Because 4 DIFFERENT baddies is better than 1 four headed baddie. This conflict between the cults, allows the Players to play a large and complex game of politics, where they play off each of the cults against one another to get them to destroy each other. PCs might ally with one cult, only to get into a big mess and have ANOTHER cult offer them help in return for betraying their former allies. In the end, you get a Game of Thrones level game of politics and alliances.
Unique Cults
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Now all of the four cults want the same thing: summon forth their elemental daddy. The problem with this, they might just meld into each other and become very similar. So we have to differentiate them in three ways:
How they present themselves (identity).
What do they believe in (philosophy).
How they act during combat (gameplay).
If you distinguish EACH of these, you get distinctly diverse cults. Below is going to be MY breakdown of how I distinguish each of the Elemental Cults.
Howling Hatred Storm.
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Change that fuckin’ name. No one will wanna be a part of a group called “Howling Hatred.” Bad guy groups usually pick actually socially OKAY names, otherwise they won’t get any supporters. Let’s call them “Howling Storm” or “Howling Wind.” ANYTHING else but HATRED!
Identity/Philosophy. The wind is fickle and full of lies. The leader of the cult, one Aerisi Kalinoth, pretends to be a winged elf by creating fake wings using illusions. Their main outpost is filled with cultists who PRETEND to be knights. The whole thing reeks of deception and illusion. So I made that their selling point. Make your dreams a reality is the tag line for this cult. They convince people to join, so that when THEIR Prince is summoned he can blanket the world in an illusive state, where everyone’s best dream will come true. Of course, they will all live in a constant dream state, but it doesn’t matter. People who are depressed enough would be willing to fall into eternal sleep if it is guaranteed to make them and their friends forever happy. This is what Aerisi offers. She appeals to the desperate, the depressed, the lonely. She offers them to live out their dreams in an eternal sleep. Kind of like a suicide cult.
Gameplay. This is very simple. The cultists stay airborne as MUCH as possible. Forcing PCs to fight vertically, instead of horizontally, find cover, find ways to fly up as well, climb high structures, etc.
Black Earth
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Personally, the Prophet of this cult is my favorite. So to be fair, I don’t much to change about this cult.
Identity/Philosophy. For this cult I ran with the theme of burial. Marlos Urnrayle, the prophet of Black Earth, sells the burying of your past. Made bad choices in life? Did thing you regret? Forget about it. Bury that past, and on the dirt build your life anew. Atop the ruins of old, rise your new home. This would totally get the attention of past criminals and bandits, whose lives have been ruined by their own crimes. Now they can start anew, in an organization that accepts EVERYONE.
Gameplay. Another easy one. You should describe your cultists as being extra tough and hard to break. Maybe give some of them some earth powers, ripped out of Avatar: the Last Airbender. I let my cultists just call forth pillars and stone walls, while others would swim through earth as if it were water.
Eternal Flame
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Identity/Philosophy. Compared to the other cults, this one seemed more combative and militaristic. So I ran with that. Vanifer, the cult’s leader, runs a militia. Again, remember that the valley is without any leadership. She offers leadership. Her message is that she is building the army this valley desperately needs and she intends to bring peace and order to this valley, by force if need be. Her selling point is that she promotes discipline and order. People who lack any purpose, live messy lives, or need some kind of a leader-figure to tell them what to do, would fall into this easily. Think of veterans or troops, who after wartime cannot fall back into normal life as they need someone to order them around.
Gameplay. These guys are on FIYAAAA. Make their armor too hot to touch, make being around them uncomfortable. Allow them to be strategically more intelligent, using maneuvers to flank, surprise, and stun their opponents. This is a military organization, after all.
Crushing Wave
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Identity/Philosophy. This cult consists of smugglers and pirates. What do pirates stand for? That’s right, an anti-establishment way of life. So the cult preaches FREEDOM. But absolute freedom. In fact, anarchy. Gar seeks a world that he can drown, where only those deemed strong enough can survive and are thus freed from the shackles of social restrictions. This idea of absolute freedom without authority, of being able to live off your own merit and not having to answer to anyone, is something many would like. People who have been duped by corrupt officials, people who dislike the restrictions of society, or dislike social norms. The Wave offers them all a chance to be free of this.
Gameplay. I got Lovecraft vibes from the cult. his cult is led by Gar Shatterkeel, who almost drowned but heard a voice in the oceans that led him to safety. Borderline Cthulhu-esque. SO, I made them all weird and creepy. They talk strange, they walk strange, they tend to stare. Ultimately, while they all fight for absolute freedom, the irony is that they are being manipulated by a primordial entity that is slowly brainwashing them.
Last Point - Diversity
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In the book, all cultists (except the prophets) are human. That’s all fine and dandy but I don’t see why it needs to be so. I recommend you make the cults more diverse in their composition. Elves, dwarves, orcs, dragonborn, whatever you got. Not because YAY DIVERSITY or anything. Just because, I think it makes most sense that cults that fight for influence and power, wouldn’t discriminate based on race or gender. This, in fact, could be a selling point for them. Especially if you have racial tensions in your Fantasy setting.
I hope you all find this breakdown of how I modified the cults helpful. Please remember, that these are not “THE BEST WAY TO PLAY.” These are only the best way I found to play. You might find something that fits your campaigns and players better. Special shoutout to @ravenbane13​ (and everyone else who reblogged my last post) for encouraging this piece. I did go a bit longer than I wish, but hey, I hope you find some use in that wall of text.
The Unfair DM
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cainromainelettuce · 5 years
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( non-binary ) haven’t seen CAIN ROMANOV around in a while. the BILL SKARSGARD lookalike has been known to be (+) RIGHTEOUS & (+) AMBITIOUS, but HE/THEY can also be (-) EVASIVE & (-) UNTRUSTING. The 24 year old is a SENIOR majoring in BUSINESS. I believe they’re living in EMERITUS, but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( snot goblin. 20. EST. she/they. )
surprise !! i am the snot goblin ! (aka james aka saige aka amos aka aleta) !! i very much apologize for this intro being late !! and also for possibly being pretty long.
EDIT: i forgot to mention but 1. like this if u’d like to plot w/ him !! obv !! and then 2. if discord is easier for any of u, my thing is emo stan #3644 uwu
TW: CULT LIFE, HEROIN USAGE / ADDICTION, DRUG ADDICTION / USE / ABUSE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, ABUSE, MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES ( PTSD, ANXIETY ). if i forgot anything PLEASE tell me !!
a e s t h e t i c s
dangling limbs from tree branches, yellowed book pages, opened bottles of vintage wine, oversized sweaters and deep under eyes, bleached denim, worn leather gloves, cat hair against black cloth, fields of wheat, broken windows, descending staircases, tight-lipped smiles during public appearances, golden skies, light spilling from windows, stumbling over one's own words, wire-framed beds, linens, wool scarves, making the wrong decisions; running, from others and yourself.
general information !!
full name: cain alexei romanov
nickname(s): cock and ball torture, N/A
b.o.d. - feb 19th, fuckin pisces
label(s): the fallen, the phoenix, the crestfallen, etc. etc.
height: 6′4″ jfc
hometown: rochester, ny babey !!
sexuality: bi...? bi. yes. bi.
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stats
biography !!
cain, like all of my other children, was born into a life of privilege. his father’s a senator of new york and his mother’s a philanthropist; both pretty prominent figures. cain is the eldest of five.
he was raised in mind of keeping a good public reputation, taught to be the perfect citizen. essentially, he was a golden child who could really do no wrong. as a child, he’d always aim to please his parents in any way he could.
this included joining several clubs during school, such as model UN, debate, DECA, etc. etc. as well as a few sports (soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse -- all throughout the years, not at once). pretty sure he’s been a class president once or twice, and has been in the lead for valedictorian.
his whole thing was that he was supposed to be perfect. volunteered on the weekends at homeless shelters and food banks and like...he just did The Most. the absolute most
this pleased his parents, and he never had a problem with them. life was good. they attended church on sundays, sometimes wednesdays, always did things as a Family. like, we’re talking family dinners and christmas photoshoots and new year eve parties.
probably lived in a gated community tbh
he went into college strong, started off as a double major in political science and business, lookin’ to take after both his parents. he’d Always been fairly close to tatiana, being around the same age as her. nothing freaky ever happened among them, and i wouldn’t have really called them...friends, if that makes sense? they were confidantes, they vented to each other for whatever reasons at the time.
however this whole ~do no wrong~ bearing was a charade. in the community and his families’ eye, cain was just this precious, hardworking citizen who gave back when possible.
those who actually, genuinely knew him knew he was just a dick lmfao
arrogant, harrowing, and an outright bully who tore down others when he felt like it -- often unprovoked. he was the senator’s son and a rich one at that, and ever since middle school he was just...mean !
because of his father and his family’s general position in the community, tattlers were the ones getting in trouble rather than cain, who’d often go without punishment for his attitude.
like...was That Bitch who’d actually, genuinely look down at somebody if they had less than him. just an absolute narcissistic dickhead who only cared about like, maybe two or three people outside of his family.
his only redeeming quality was probably his protectiveness over his siblings tbh -- even if he wasn’t ... the best person, nobody was rly allowed to fuck w/ his family.
this carried into college, he probably joined one of the frats too, y’know. known for keeping his composition even when others resorted to violence, ��cos he never liked to get physical. it would’ve been bad for press, y’know ??
sometime during college, two important things happened.
the first one is that he became a sort of...middleman? broker? he wasn’t the one creating/growing what he was selling, but he wasn’t the one dealing them. y’know, he was the middleman. took drugs and sold them to dealers to sell, for profit, for funsies. very hush-hush for the obvious reasons.
the second is that he met earl and may meyers. they were fellow volunteers at a thanksgiving food drive, and the older couple were immediately drawn to cain -- and him to them, essentially. to this day he can’t tell you what about them had been so appealing. just, the air around them was something else entirely. some would probably call it unhinged. they were kind folks, very down to earth, very religious and warmhearted. they liked his name being cain a whole lot; told him that he reminded him of their late son.
i’d say the beginning of this was late junior year for cain. the couple volunteered more and more at the same places as cain, as often as he did -- which, in retrospect was odd -- but cain hadn’t really known better. being the Good Samaritan he acted as, he kept talking to them. it became a genuine friendship. a few months into it, they had started talking about like...the sin of wealth and what it does to your soul, god choosing only a select few to be saved when he eventually cleanses the earth, etc. etc. they claimed that cain was special, one of those to be selected, they could see it in his aura, etc. etc.
it was...oddly appealing to him? like hmm..maybe i am being constrained by capitalism and disappointing god!
but like...this was mostly because of a lot of emotional manipulation for a duration of months -- and he had never once suspected anything like that to be happening. cain had always been so sure of himself, that he’d never imagined one day being manipulated, even if he was manipulative himself.
earl and may told him that they were going to leave rochester, that there were so many more who had the same ideals as them -- it was time to join them, to be saved. cain held off from this, as a senior in college by now.
after all, he had his perfect lil family and a good side-business going on, and he had a long term girlfriend who put up with his shenanigans. cain was still an absolute asshole to others but he had at least found his crowd to all be collectively awful and full of themselves, y’know?
over winter break, however, cain had a change of heart pretty suddenly. 
for the third important thing had happened.
it had started off as a pretty average, normal day. christmas had gone and passed -- it was one of the days between christmas and new years eve, y’know? a period of days where time nor place is real. like walmart at midnight, or an empty 7/11 parking lot. during a seemingly normal conversation about his ancestry with his mother, she had suddenly broken down in sobs.
it was during this discussion that she revealed, to cain only -- that he was not his father’s son.
the beginning of vaughn and adelaide’s marriage had a pretty...rocky start, to say the least, and in a night of petty anger, adelaide had cheated on vaughn. this resulted in the pregnancy that wound up with cain.
the news rocked cain’s world in a very bad way, the sort of way that breaks a person. his entire life he looked up to his parents, did everything they ever asked of him, molded himself into perfection for the hope of being a sliver of a man his father was. and to learn that his father was not, actually, his father?
within the week he’d gotten into several altercations, both sober and drunk, and had landed in county jail overnight. nobody knows where cain went on new years eve, but he hadn’t skipped town until the third -- according to tatiana, who had received one last gift from him on the 2nd (her birthday).
then, he was gone. it wasn’t a missings person ordeal -- cain had made it very known that he was leaving rochester and that he had skipped town. hadn’t even broken up with his girlfriend before doing so. hell -- hadn’t even told the people he worked for. 
BEGINNING OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS
only earl and may knew where cain went. because he went with them to the place they had told him so much about. this was the fourth most important thing to happen to him, because it changed his life.
cain didn’t know what a cult looked like, but it felt pretty accurate to hollywood’s interpretations. they lived separate from society in rural new york -- not nearly as far away as cain would’ve liked, but thank god in the long run for that. the people wore white, linens and cotton. there was no technology, just prayer and daily chores. money meant nothing, there.
i want to keep this part relatively short, so i’ll try my hardest. cain was only in the cult for three-ish months before he escaped. the beginning was grand -- it was peaceful, it was mind-clearing. he was treated as something special, his name being some sort of ... message, a sign that he’d been a gift for the group. that he’d be, ultimately, an eventual leader for them. however -- the longer he stayed with them, the more apparent it became that he wasn’t the messager they had long waited for.
he began slipping up. they became displeased with him. punishments occurred. sometimes once a week, sometimes multiple. he remembers hundreds of hands, pulling and tugging and gripping and begging -- asking him to repent, please, repent, and submergence on more than one occasion. these were not the worst.
 they were convinced that he couldn’t truly be cleansed of his sins unless he forgot his past life.
fun fact: heroin in small doses, daily, can lead to memory loss.
though it’d only been around three months of this -- it really felt longer to cain. time wasn’t a concept. there was only the ground they walked on, and god, and that was that.
drugged and weakened but still kickin’, he had gotten into a particularly violent, brutal fight with earl. this was the last straw. cain had attempted to murder his ‘brother’. this led to his next punishment.
in a particularly twisted reenactment / retelling, cain had been branded with the cult’s interpretation of the mark of cain (they were going to be accurate and place it upon his forehead, but after a lot of resistance [he bit somebody] it was, begrudgingly, placed atop his heart instead) and left for dead in the middle of nowhere.
by all means, he probably should’ve died. by miracle, though cain was no longer a believer -- he was found by a farmer.
END OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. STILL MENTIONS OF TRAUMA / MENTAL HEALTH / RECOVERY BEYOND THIS POINT.
by early april he’d been reunited with his family. things went very fast, suddenly, for him. recovering from his forced addiction, and the trauma he’d been put in within only a small amount of months -- and his father’s reputation -- his mother’s inability to look him in the eye -- cain took matters into his own hands and, rather than return to lockwood, put in his transfer to hendrix.
because he’s a grown man who, while recovering from being in a cult, can still make his own decisions even if they’re irrational. he should’ve taken a year off, really, and recover. but he couldn’t imagine staying in his house, either, and generally ?? his mind was just a very messy place.
he went to hendrix a s a p, before his term in the summer even began. he wound up at hendrix a few weeks (like...three?) before the lockwood kids and was very dismayed to find out that oh, coincidence, there’s an abroad semester attending !!
so that’s sort of where he’s at rn.
personality !!
okay so...douchebag cain is No More. they’re retired.
to the hendrix students they’ve familiarized themself with, they’re a pretty quiet person. well-meaning, kind enough if not a little sarcastic. sort of distant, not much for parties. smokes weed and like, drinks occasionally, but not much else. definitely doesn’t do anything harder. 
they’ve got four cats. that’s their entire personality. four cats. they got them all after transferring to hendrix and like ... no regrets ?
i imagine their parents still pay for their schooling ‘cos it’s not like their father Knows that cain’s not his child. if anything, vaughn just thinks that cain suffered a mental breakdown and needed a break.
anyways. they love their cats a lot. like, probably has photos of them in their wallet.
as mentioned above, their memory is pretty...fucked up right now. they don’t forget anything major, but there are days where it takes them a while to remember faces or names and sometimes they wake up and won’t know where they are.
not that they really...sleep a lot? they have night terrors, which fuck with their sleep schedule. they sleep only for a few hours each night because the nightmares are too bad.
cain suffers from severe touch aversion. skin-to-skin contact of any sort is enough to send them into a pretty bad panic attack. they wear leather gloves more often than not, because it helps without hindering them too much. they’re not the biggest fan of body contact in general, even with clothes, but it won’t send them into a panic like bare skin will. they make sure their few friends know that they don’t really like physical contact at all.
they’re dealing with PTSD, attends therapy every week. keeps an entire journal where they write b/c it helps them cope. it’s like, everything to them.
they’re...sort of like...blunt? they won’t go out of their way to be like ‘hey i joined a cult and it fucked me up pretty badly’ but they won’t lie about it either if the topic somehow comes to that. they don’t like delusions, but they don’t like drawing unnecessary attention to them either.
lockwood students being at hendrix makes them pretty anxious, just because they were looking to sort of ... rebuild themself into a better person, and like pretty much most students at lockwood knows how much of a massive tool they used to be. not to mention like, their plugs and customers they screwed over by leaving, and their ex girlfriend who they’re still probably in love with ?? but it’s just complicated now.
smokes weed to soothe them rather than just get high. is probably stoned often.
doesn’t really like cars! or swimming! or crowds. doesn’t like to feel trapped.
whenever they’re overwhelmed and needs to be away from everything, they’ve developed a habit of climbing into trees. they won’t suddenly go jump in a tree during a conversation, but more so at night or when they need to think.
probably trying to redeem themself in some sort of way. because while they want to avoid the lockwood students as much as possible, that’s not right. they want to fix the shit they’ve done and be a better person, because the whole...situation they’ve been in has opened their eyes.
uuuhh...there are days where they forget that tatiana’s dead. so that’s sad.
i wouldn’t be surprised if people from lockwood were suspicious of cain, considering they left rochester only a week or so before tatiana went missing, and just so happened to come to hendrix around the same time eva went missing ??
oh !! cain developed a stutter, and their voice is a little damaged from...screaming. a lot. in general they look a little gaunt, a little unhealthy. 
they can still definitely hold a conversation, and like i said they’re pretty...lowkey. soft, sort of. generally a quiet person and while they’re not the most social, they won’t be a direct asshole or anything. likes people! just...has low energy.
goes by he/they, doesn’t really care which one as he alternates pretty frequently.
dropped the political science part of his major and like...unfortunately is very much unhappy with being a business major atm. he might just go through another four years of college in a diff major or fuck off all together.
EDIT: i forgot to mention that he’s sort of really into the investigation of the cult he was part of b/c they’re still like...out there. also fascinated by the watershed app and shit, ‘cos they fucking...hate this shit with a passion. probably willing to stick their nose into places they shouldn’t
wanted connections !!
so first and foremost, cain would’ve been known around lockwood. connections relating to that would be v much appreciated !!
mostly enemies or people they’ve wronged, tbh, ‘cos he was a massive dick.
exes they’ve dumped, hook ups, ex-friends, people he’s gotten into arguments or fights with.
his ex gf would be gr8 . if anybody would like some angst.
uuhhh i’d imagine he’d know a few of the other prominent families from rochester, especially. not to say that they would’ve all gotten along.
hendrix pals !! give me some solid friendships based on mutual respect.
people cain used to receive drugs from and people he used to send those drugs to.
ex-party pals ??
people suspicious of them b/c cain was/is a very suspicious person. people still angry at them.
let them RECONNECT and FIX FRIENDSHIPS
people he’d bully or fuck with or whatever.
wholesome shit. angst shit. slowburns, anyone ?!? enemies to friends. friends to enemies. enemies to bigger enemies.
i’m not taking hook-ups for....obvious reasons.
but sexual tension is welcomed. maybe a sexting thing ??
ppl they DON’T even know that well but hATE his dAD because FUCK POLITICIANS y’know ?!?
old pals from lockwood, if i didnt mention that.
i imagine a lot of conversations w/ lockwood kids begin like ‘this is where u fucked off to, huh?’ b/c like....they told everybody they were ditching rochester. it wasn’t a secret or a shock. but it’s still like huh. u bastard.
people who are soft for them ??
people who are hard on him ??
make his life difficult but also uuuhh uwu him
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