I'm curious
Fabricant451
Member
Queen of Hearts
STATUS: Jenny Nicholson's four hour takedown of the failed Star Wars hotel is the most entertaining thing Disney Star Wars has provided in seven years 5 mos ago
- Last Seen: 29 days ago
- Old Guild Username: Fabricant451
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 6255 (1.59 / day)
- VMs: 25
-
Username history
- Fabricant451 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Khyron Shadowfang,
Festive,
Damycles,
Izurich,
PrinceAlexus,
Aces Away,
Crimson Flame,
Red Helix,
mattmanganon,
Kaithe Dame
Status
Recent Statuses
5 mos ago
Current
Jenny Nicholson's four hour takedown of the failed Star Wars hotel is the most entertaining thing Disney Star Wars has provided in seven years
2
likes
5 mos ago
Train isn't a real band, it exists just to be played softly in clothing stores or the few malls that still exist in America. You can't convince me otherwise. RIP to the bassist though.
1
like
5 mos ago
Discord really did ruin everything, now people can't even air their grievances publicly like the good lord intended
7
likes
5 mos ago
Someone grab the lid before the worms escape the can.
4
likes
5 mos ago
The real status bar drama are the friends we made along the way.
5
likes
Bio
Look, I got lost on the way to getting some jajangmyeon and it'd be foolish to leave now.
Most Recent Posts
Hallway
One step at a time. That was a good way to look at things. A better way would be to take more than one step given the situation but that was inching closer to mixed metaphors. Elliot shared the sentiment, at least, of focusing on specific, immediate goals rather than plan for other possibilities or eventualities. She assumed everyone in the group had read Of Mice and Men enough to know the significance of the title and how deviating from the idea of 'one step at a time' in a situation like this was just asking for everything to go tits up. Elliot wasn't going to bring that up, the last thing anyone wanted to hear was that planning ahead was just as likely to fail than succeed. Optimism was the name of the game. Well, that and survival, but optimism was slightly easier in the here and now.
"Right, I'm not keen on stepping softly or whatever, so stick close." Elliot was given the reigns to take point and take point she did, stepping out in front of the group and heading down the hallway with steps that could be described as 'striding'. It was stupid to break into a sprint or a run or even a jog when conservation of energy was of utmost import but Elliot was walking a bit above casual. There was a deliberate pace and had it been just a regular school day it was doubtful that she would even stand out - on any given day there were no fewer than five students trying to hurry to their next class or to lunch without any consideration for other students. There might've even been a similar scene but with panic and screams as students fled in terror down the halls but if Elliot thought of that she would only ruin the optimism she was trying to express.
The important bit was that while Elliot was making a beeline to her locker, she wasn't rushing there like she was running the mile in gym.
Thirty seconds. That's how long it took for her to arrive in front of her locker, but in this climate thirty seconds might as well have been thirty minutes. If some of the others were taking the time to check the classrooms en route and around the locker that was their right, Elliot hadn't looked back to see if anyone had followed until she arrived - and even then she just checked her sides before making one more request. "It'd be cool if nothing came up from behind and took a bite outta my ass." Sensible. Reasonable, she figured, and set to work opening her locker.
The inside of Elliot's locker was as plain as the outside. She never quite saw the point in putting up pictures or mirrors or stickers or whatever on the inside. It was a locker, it was meant to store shit not hang out in front of and gossip. "Ah, perfect." Elliot reached inside her locker and pulled out the thing she had made the group detour for: a simple black guitar case which she promptly slung onto her back, slamming her locker shut behind her.
"Right. What's the plan now?"
Weeks Ago
"So, what's your passion?"
As far as studio spaces went, Brandy had seen better. Of course, she had seen worse but that didn't exactly change the fact that she had gotten a raw deal from the real estate company. That was the worst thing about this town, everyone was out for themselves. Everyone was willing to walk on the backs of the little guy if it meant climbing a slightly higher fence. Brandy wasn't sinless, she'd gotten where she was on the backs of all the midwestern suburban girls who thought they could be the next Cheryl Ladd or Goldie Hawn just because they did a crappy school production of Romeo and Juliet. They, like so many, had dreams but lacked passion. Lacked drive. Lacked the good sense to throw away their morals for their own benefit. There was a reason those wannabe dreamers worked in crappy diners or reception gigs while Brandy was renting office space and had captured the libidos of young boys peeking in the shoebox under their older brother's bed as much as she had the fathers and bachelors who still had time for fantasy.
Why should she take the time to mourn those who clung to something as pointless as integrity? The ones who refuse to compromise were the ones who only saw their dreams come to pass when they slept. Everyone thinks they're talented until they leave the comfort of friends and family.
The studio space, located on the third floor of an office building with nothing on the second floor and a laundromat on the first, was a good first step for Brandy. She still had her day-job of performing various other sorts of jobs for the camera and select lucky individuals whose sole contribution to the world would be telling their friends in ten years that they were in a porn once but having a place to call her own was how she would turn from being in front of the camera to being behind it as well. Just because she was established, in comparison to the busloads of dreamers anyway, didn't mean she could rest on her laurels. She already took the adult world by storm in her debut, how historic would it be to do it again. A woman running her own little adult entertainment company...imagine the possibilities there.
Of course, it wasn't all sex and fun. She had her legitimate side and what could be more lucrative to the dreamers, schemers, and true-believers than doing professional head-shots? Brandy had connections. Kind of. More than most and certainly more than the jerks who take advantage of girls fresh off the bus with promise that they know a producer if only they do them a favor...but who would be stupid enough to fall for that trick? Put an ad in the papers, offer a huge discount for anyone who brings said ad, and Brandy was in business. Of course, that it was also a way to gauge potential talent for her enterprise was a little known secret. Either way, even with her crappy studio space, Brandy was on her way.
"Wait, don't tell me. You...want to be an actress, right? You and every other pretty face around here. Well, you've got beautiful skin, but your clothes? Totally unflattering. You're hiding your God given assets. We're women in a man's town, we have to make them want you as much as you want this. But I've got a good feeling about you. You've got a look." Brandy's words of wisdom were aimed at a young girl with porcelain skin who seemed equal parts nervous and excited about head shots. What aspiring star of the silver screen didn't have that? Producers and agents loved passing around the pictures of would-be starlets. Brandy liked to joke that the more producers who popped a stiff one with the shots, the better chance the girl had at getting cast in a picture.
None of them found it quite as funny as she did.
"What'd you say your name was, by the way?"
"Nikki. Nikki Entwhistle."
"Well, look to the left for me, Nikki Entwhistle. And smile. You'll be in the papers one day."
As far as studio spaces went, Brandy had seen better. Of course, she had seen worse but that didn't exactly change the fact that she had gotten a raw deal from the real estate company. That was the worst thing about this town, everyone was out for themselves. Everyone was willing to walk on the backs of the little guy if it meant climbing a slightly higher fence. Brandy wasn't sinless, she'd gotten where she was on the backs of all the midwestern suburban girls who thought they could be the next Cheryl Ladd or Goldie Hawn just because they did a crappy school production of Romeo and Juliet. They, like so many, had dreams but lacked passion. Lacked drive. Lacked the good sense to throw away their morals for their own benefit. There was a reason those wannabe dreamers worked in crappy diners or reception gigs while Brandy was renting office space and had captured the libidos of young boys peeking in the shoebox under their older brother's bed as much as she had the fathers and bachelors who still had time for fantasy.
Why should she take the time to mourn those who clung to something as pointless as integrity? The ones who refuse to compromise were the ones who only saw their dreams come to pass when they slept. Everyone thinks they're talented until they leave the comfort of friends and family.
The studio space, located on the third floor of an office building with nothing on the second floor and a laundromat on the first, was a good first step for Brandy. She still had her day-job of performing various other sorts of jobs for the camera and select lucky individuals whose sole contribution to the world would be telling their friends in ten years that they were in a porn once but having a place to call her own was how she would turn from being in front of the camera to being behind it as well. Just because she was established, in comparison to the busloads of dreamers anyway, didn't mean she could rest on her laurels. She already took the adult world by storm in her debut, how historic would it be to do it again. A woman running her own little adult entertainment company...imagine the possibilities there.
Of course, it wasn't all sex and fun. She had her legitimate side and what could be more lucrative to the dreamers, schemers, and true-believers than doing professional head-shots? Brandy had connections. Kind of. More than most and certainly more than the jerks who take advantage of girls fresh off the bus with promise that they know a producer if only they do them a favor...but who would be stupid enough to fall for that trick? Put an ad in the papers, offer a huge discount for anyone who brings said ad, and Brandy was in business. Of course, that it was also a way to gauge potential talent for her enterprise was a little known secret. Either way, even with her crappy studio space, Brandy was on her way.
"Wait, don't tell me. You...want to be an actress, right? You and every other pretty face around here. Well, you've got beautiful skin, but your clothes? Totally unflattering. You're hiding your God given assets. We're women in a man's town, we have to make them want you as much as you want this. But I've got a good feeling about you. You've got a look." Brandy's words of wisdom were aimed at a young girl with porcelain skin who seemed equal parts nervous and excited about head shots. What aspiring star of the silver screen didn't have that? Producers and agents loved passing around the pictures of would-be starlets. Brandy liked to joke that the more producers who popped a stiff one with the shots, the better chance the girl had at getting cast in a picture.
None of them found it quite as funny as she did.
"What'd you say your name was, by the way?"
"Nikki. Nikki Entwhistle."
"Well, look to the left for me, Nikki Entwhistle. And smile. You'll be in the papers one day."
FLASH
"I hate it when I'm right."
For a town obsessed with bright, flashing lights no one really wanted to see the blue and red ones shining down the street yet there was always a certain morbid, macabre curiosity that bade onlookers to sneak their peeks. It was worse in a community where people knew each other. Where people talked. Brandy wondered if anyone would claim the body, if anyone knew who Nikki Entwhistle was. The boys in blue were starting to pull people back, but it was a scene many were familiar with. If it wasn't suicide then it was someone a little too friendly with the lines and thinking they were invincible. In a city full of dreamers, nightmares are far too common.
"Did you know her?" A curious, old gossip stopped Brandy as she turned away from the scene.
"I bought her that dress."
What more needed to be said? The cops wouldn't be interested in talking to Brandy. It was a suicide, not a homicide, and Brandy wasn't exactly friends with the girl. Nikki Entwhistle's head-shots would be in the obituaries tomorrow courtesy of the photos Brandy took. The ones being passed around a studio would be crumpled up and thrown in the trash like so many others. Brandy couldn't bring herself to mourn for the girl. The city had broken her. Another dream dashed, another hopeful discarded with the hopeless. Just another day in paradise. In the same corner shop selling papers with Nikki's obituary more people would purchase a skin rag with Brandy on page thirteen, finger crooked in the mouth. The irony that both Brandy and Nikki would be photographed in similar positions was not lost. Both women weren't strangers to getting fucked.
Brandy needed one of two things, both stiff, and one was more readily attained. It was almost instinct that carried her feet away from the grizzly scene towards the familiar. The Pit wasn't her typical haunt, she'd lived on the fringes between Oceanside and the city for long enough to dart between worlds, but beggars couldn't be choosers and it wasn't as if she would be paying for it anyway. There wasn't a bar in the state Brandy would have to pay for, such was the way of the endless parade of hopefuls with more cash than sense.
As she rounded the corner towards her destination, she arrived just in time to see the bouncer tossing someone. What a dive. If he was drinking here by choice then he was some kind of desperate the then get himself tossed. "Rough night?" Brandy made no attempt to stand in the queue, such as it was. She was getting inside because she was Brandy Valentine.
"No more than usual. You in town for a shoot, B? Don't see you around often. What's it been...couple weeks? Months?"
"Well you know me. I can't keep away from a dive den of depravity. If I stick around, I'll buy you a drink when your shift's done. We can get off together."
"So you are working."
"Nope."
Brandy Valentine left the bouncer grinning as she sauntered past, stepping inside The Pit with all the poise of a celebrity, and considering where she was and who she was...she might as well have been one.
For a town obsessed with bright, flashing lights no one really wanted to see the blue and red ones shining down the street yet there was always a certain morbid, macabre curiosity that bade onlookers to sneak their peeks. It was worse in a community where people knew each other. Where people talked. Brandy wondered if anyone would claim the body, if anyone knew who Nikki Entwhistle was. The boys in blue were starting to pull people back, but it was a scene many were familiar with. If it wasn't suicide then it was someone a little too friendly with the lines and thinking they were invincible. In a city full of dreamers, nightmares are far too common.
"Did you know her?" A curious, old gossip stopped Brandy as she turned away from the scene.
"I bought her that dress."
What more needed to be said? The cops wouldn't be interested in talking to Brandy. It was a suicide, not a homicide, and Brandy wasn't exactly friends with the girl. Nikki Entwhistle's head-shots would be in the obituaries tomorrow courtesy of the photos Brandy took. The ones being passed around a studio would be crumpled up and thrown in the trash like so many others. Brandy couldn't bring herself to mourn for the girl. The city had broken her. Another dream dashed, another hopeful discarded with the hopeless. Just another day in paradise. In the same corner shop selling papers with Nikki's obituary more people would purchase a skin rag with Brandy on page thirteen, finger crooked in the mouth. The irony that both Brandy and Nikki would be photographed in similar positions was not lost. Both women weren't strangers to getting fucked.
Brandy needed one of two things, both stiff, and one was more readily attained. It was almost instinct that carried her feet away from the grizzly scene towards the familiar. The Pit wasn't her typical haunt, she'd lived on the fringes between Oceanside and the city for long enough to dart between worlds, but beggars couldn't be choosers and it wasn't as if she would be paying for it anyway. There wasn't a bar in the state Brandy would have to pay for, such was the way of the endless parade of hopefuls with more cash than sense.
As she rounded the corner towards her destination, she arrived just in time to see the bouncer tossing someone. What a dive. If he was drinking here by choice then he was some kind of desperate the then get himself tossed. "Rough night?" Brandy made no attempt to stand in the queue, such as it was. She was getting inside because she was Brandy Valentine.
"No more than usual. You in town for a shoot, B? Don't see you around often. What's it been...couple weeks? Months?"
"Well you know me. I can't keep away from a dive den of depravity. If I stick around, I'll buy you a drink when your shift's done. We can get off together."
"So you are working."
"Nope."
Brandy Valentine left the bouncer grinning as she sauntered past, stepping inside The Pit with all the poise of a celebrity, and considering where she was and who she was...she might as well have been one.
Oh that's easy. Queen of Hearts by Fucked Up. I turn it up and I can't stop myself from belting out the chorus every time, especially the Veronica chorus and the Veronica verse.
Of the suggested three meals a day, which is your favorite and what is your favorite thing to eat for that meal?
Of the suggested three meals a day, which is your favorite and what is your favorite thing to eat for that meal?
Anyway I'm working through the backlog and Grand Theft Auto 5 is a bad game. Thank you.
In
What are you watching? Series or movies discussion/ reccomendation
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Off-Topic Discussion
<Snipped quote by Fabricant451>
Lol you got any others on your list you wanna watch?
I've been watching Elementary which I don't know why I slept on for so long since it has two of my favorite things: police procedural mysteries and Lucy Liu in killer fashion.
In
What are you watching? Series or movies discussion/ reccomendation
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Off-Topic Discussion
I'm just watching Lost again idk
<Snipped quote by Fabricant451>
Same. And some have been great and others have been weak. I think the level of care they've taken for this game, with Nomura and the other OG FF7 team all working together for this makes me less all "doom and gloom" and more just hopeful excitement for the future. But right now everything is speculation.
For me, though, it's not just the Nomura aspect that has me not anticipating what's to come but also the shortcomings I thought the game had, namely its combat, the padding, the side quest, and the overall design of the areas. I'm not sure I want to play another game in this remake franchise if all I can look forward to is hallways that play new versions of the songs I know broken up by bosses that take 20 minutes when they could take 5.
@Fabricant451
How isn't that rad. It's just a crazy wild ride that no one knows where it's going.
Because I've been on rides helmed by Nomura before.
FF7R is a sequel so it isn't retconning anything.
It's not even that, though. Shinra does blow up its own reactor but Avalanche doesn't know that and it's one of the changes that at least works in the narrative of the game. But it is absolutely not a sequel.
© 2007-2024