#OR THE HIGH PALETTE WHICH LEADS TO ANOTHER THING WHICH LEADS TO NOT BEING TO EAT AND GOD I CANNOT EVEN EXPLAIN HOW SELF CONSCIOUS I AM

[theevilicecreamsoda]

Wish I had an easier time with……… the difficulties

[askagamedev]

Would you agree that one of the only ways Concord stood out from its competition was through its character designs?

Going just off their clothing, their color palettes are hideous.

Concord really needed better character designs. When the player experience is greatly changed by the character or role the player chooses to play, the way that character or role is played must be clearly conveyed through its visual design. I thought Concord actually played quite well - several of their developers were former Bungie developers and Concord's gameplay was very much like early Destiny PVP. The game performed well and the characters played in fairly interesting ways once you started playing. The major difficulty was figuring out how a character played from how they looked.

For example, each of these characters from Samurai Shodown 2 really conveys what kind of gameplay a player can expect at a glance. One is a mid-range character who excels at keeping opponents at the right distance. One is a very fast attacker with short range and high combo potential. One is a heavy and slow heavy hitter. Earthquake, first, is clearly the slow and heavy hitter - his size is the biggest tipoff. Huge muscles, huge belly, and an extremely large weapon that can reach. Nakoruru, second, is the fast, short range fighter. She's got a hawk, a very fast animal, with her and she's got no visible weapon. The third character, Ukyo, is the mid-range character with his sheathed sword and sword hand ready to draw. It's immediately apparent that he's ready to draw that sword in a blink of an eye on anyone in range.

Here are three Concord characters - Daw, Duchess, and Vale. Among these three, there's a healer, a sniper, and an explosives expert. Is it easy to tell who's who at a glance? I would argue that it really isn't. The first character has a long rifle and goggles which suggests a sniper, but the white clothing and stylized red crosses suggest healing as well. The second character doesn't really fit the visual profile of any of the roles - judging by the size and bulkiness of the character's clothing, I would have thought he was a front-line tank of some kind instead, but I could see maybe that character being an explosives expert if there were any actual visible explosives. The third character's visual design doesn't say much at all - she looks like an old superhero with a gun. There are no real visual cues as to which role she fills. These characters are, in order, sniper, healer, and explosives expert respectively. This lack of visual clarity severely hurts the interest of anyone thinking about picking the game up because they aren't immediately drawn to a character or role they could be interested in.

From what I've gathered, one of the big issues during development with the character design was, as I suspected, design by committee. When the leadership wants things a certain way, those of us in the trenches must acquiesce. I've had situations where I've been assigned a particular task and thought it was a bad idea. I voiced my issues to the leads respectfully, I was overruled and told to do what they said, and I delivered what they asked. I know of another developer who got too close to a particular feature he worked really hard on and threw a massive tantrum when that feature was cut. That unfortunate dev was fired for his behavior. As much as those on the outside might think that we get to do whatever we want during development, individual contributors really are beholden to the decisions of our leadership.

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[topgun-imagines]

Karma

Requested: Yes.

Summary: The fight that leads up to the events of ‘Try Losing One’ and ‘Clock Don’t Stop’.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst. Cheating (sorta). Briefly mentioned bad childhood. Arguments.

Note: Loosely based on Karma by Kristen Carter. Prequel to ‘Try Losing One’.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

Who knew that wedding planning would take so much out of you? You sure didn’t. It seemed as if every day there were new issues with the plans that you and Jake had made. You both had decided on a smaller wedding, only inviting your closest friends and family. But even with the smaller crowd, it still seemed as if there were a million things left to do. Even though you wanted a smaller ceremony, both you and Jake wanted your special day to be perfect. From color themes to place settings, everything was being questioned time and time again. You and your fiancė just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

Today's issue was a two-in-one. After already choosing a color scheme, as well as bridesmaid's dresses, both of those decisions were called into question by both of your parents. While neither of you wanted to let your parents dictate your wedding day, the thought that something was wrong with your choices drove both of you into a spiral of overthinking.

This led to where you were now, your hand clasped in Jake’s as you drove down the freeway. You were on your way to the dress studio to fix both the color scheme and the dresses. Both of which, according to your parents, couldn’t be more wrong. Hopefully, you would be able to fix that today. The radio was humming softly in the background. The only sound that could be heard throughout the truck. You were gazing out the window, mind trapped in a time where you wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. Maybe everything would be better if you and Jake were just to elope.

Jake seemed to be in a world of his own as well, thumb tracing mindless circles into the back of your knuckles. To any outsider, the combination of you and Jake’s racing thoughts would be loud enough for anyone to hear. You loved Jake, of course you did, but sometimes, moments like this made you question what you should be doing. There was no way that you were going to leave him. That was completely out of the question. But sometimes, you wondered whether or not he felt the same. You hoped that when you finished wedding planning, your relationship would return to the blissful, happy state that it once was.

That was how the rest of the ride was spent. Eventually, Jake’s thumb stilled on your hand. The action certainly didn't go unnoticed by you. Your eyes continued to stare out the window, taking in the beautiful scenery. Since the pair of you lived in Mirimar, you had to travel into San Diego for the majority of your wedding preparations. After so many times of going back and forth, you knew that you would be there in less than five minutes.

Just as you predicted, the truck rolled to a stop three minutes later. Jake’s hand slipped from yours as he stepped out of the truck. You breathed out a shaky sigh. Today was going to be rough. It seemed as if every new decision that was made only served to wear you and Jake down. You stepped out of the truck, moving toward where Jake was waiting on the sidewalk. However, just before the door slammed shut, you were able to make out the familiar melody of one of your favorite songs.

Jake’s hand slipped into yours as you walked, almost bringing a small smile to your face. Another, more comfortable silence enveloped the pair of you as you walked through the doors of the bridal shop. Inside, you were met with what would have been your bridesmaid dress and a plethora of others. Near the back of the shop, many color palettes lined the walls. A young, blonde woman approached the pair of you. “Can I help you with anything?” Her voice was unusually high-pitched. You couldn’t help but notice how Jake’s hand slipped from yours the second she approached you. The woman did little to hide the fact that she was also blatantly checking your fiancė out. With you standing right beside him. You did little to conceal the roll of your eyes.

“We're alright. Thank you.” You dismissed her curtly. Stepping away from your soon-to-be husband, you moved toward the back of the shop. You only hoped that he was following behind you and not smiling at the blond. When you turned back to look for him, you found him halfway toward where you were, chatting with the blond with a smile. You scoffed quietly, even though there was a large pit of sadness forming in your chest. You knew the perfect way to deal with that. Cover it over with anger.

You focused on the wall of color pallets in front of you. A few were already in a pile on the counter by the time Jake walked up to you. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. Something inside of you wanted the contact, craved it even. But the other, stronger part wanted him about 50 feet away from you. You ducked away from the arm that he tried to wind around your waist. Jake’s hand dropped back down to his side.

The pair of you remained silent, a large space between you two. A space that neither of you dared to cross. Eventually, soft words were exchanged about the color pallet. Everything seemed to be going rather smoothly until the blonde decided to pop up again. This time, the sweater that she had worn earlier was nowhere in sight. Her eyes hadn’t landed on you once since you walked through the door. Your jaw instantly tightened when Jake glanced down. Was he seriously staring at her boobs right now?

You returned your attention to the choices in front of you. Pretending not to notice the overly pleasant conversation they were having next to you, you tuned them out. You fought the bile rising in the back of your throat. It wasn’t like this was the first time that some other beautiful woman had been hanging off of Jake. It happened all the time. The worst one had been a trip to Vegas with the rest of the Dagger Squad. Jake was drunk and some random woman had been throwing herself all over him. When you got back from getting drinks with Phoenix, you found her marking up your boyfriend's neck. When his hangover wore off the next day, he had nothing but apologies for you. It was safe to say that since then, other women flirting with Jake had become a sore spot for both of you. It seemed that he didn’t mind as much as you thought he did.

You tried to ignore the tears stinging in the back of your eyes. They continued to chat happily beside you. How could he not notice how you were feeling? Sure, you didn’t expect him to be a mind reader but you were sure he should be able to pick up on this. The last straw for you was when the blonde let out one of the most annoying laughs you had ever heard before slipping her number into Jake’s hand. You wanted to laugh incredulously when he took it with no issues. When she leaned in to press her overly-pink lips to Jake’s cheek, you snapped.

The color swatch in your hand was slammed down onto the counter as you turned on your heel. Jake turned with a start to find you stalking toward the door. There was a pained scowl on your face, as if it was taking everything in you to put up an angry front. Jake followed after you, eyes never once settling back on the blonde. She stared after Jake with her mouth agape. The shop door dinged as it slammed shut behind him.

Outside, you wiped at your eyes quickly. The last thing you wanted to happen right now was anyone seeing you in a vulnerable state. Especially Jake. You could hear the door slam shut moments after you stepped outside. You began walking toward the truck wordlessly, leaving Jake to trail behind you like a lost puppy. He called out to you before you could yank your door open, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. “What is going on? Where are you going?”

You sucked in a hard breath before tilting your head up. You still refused to meet his eyes. “You can either drive us back now or I can call Bradley to come get me,” You watched Jake’s jaw tense. It was no secret to anyone that Rooster was a bit of a sore spot in your relationship. He was the shoulder that you cried on in Vegas. He was the person that you went to whenever you were having issues with Jake, and Jake knew this. While the boys were definitely getting better, the thought that Bradley could comfort you better than he could at times cut him deeply. “Your call.” It was a firm statement, one that Jake knew it was best not to take it lightly.

Silently, Jake hopped in the truck and started it. You slipped in beside him, sure to maintain your distance. The drive was a deadly silent one. Not even the crackling of the radio could be heard. You counted down the minutes until you would be able to get out of the truck and away from Jake. You truly did love him with every fiber of your being. It just amazed you that he was so oblivious that what he was doing, while standing right beside you, was killing you inside.

It felt like an eternity later that you pulled into your driveway. You were out of the truck first, slamming the door on your way out. Jake followed suit. The both of you stalked into the house angrily. Jake more so confused than anything. “What is going on?” He questioned. You spun on your heel to face him, a startled laugh leaving your lips.

“Are you serious?” Jake remained stoic, eyes revealing nothing that he was feeling. One thing that you learned early on in your relationship was that Jake used that as his defense mechanism. After growing up in the house that he did, it was mandatory that he developed it. He rarely had to use it anymore, only occasionally during horrendous fights. You shook your head with a scoff. “You know what, Jake? Karma is a bitch and one day it's gonna bite you in the ass.” Your words were laced with venom, meant to burn hotter than anyone ever thought possible. Jake stood speechless as you walked out the door, slamming it shut behind you.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Newt Prince

After seven months together, she decided to make an honest man of him. That was unexpected, given that he'd started the day as a particularly duplicitous newt, but it was relatively successful, and by all accounts they had a beautiful ceremony.

There's a saying: you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. That was one approach. Amateurs tended to run that gauntlet, leaving their future up to trial and error, playing the odds until the day their lily pad comes in.

Not so Fenella. She knew the reason most frogs didn't turn into princes. That was because amphibians, like human beings, are normally distributed across their various qualities: intelligence, appearance, moistness, nobility, and so on.

To most novices, a frog is a frog, and sometimes even a toad. They have no palette for such things, no awareness of the tell-tale signs, and treat it as a lucky dip: blindly sprinkling doses of true love from pond to pond, with no idea what kind of man, or woman, is going to answer.

Fenella knew better. She knew that, if true love's kiss could turn a frog into its human counterpart - accelerating millions of years of evolution in the flutter of an eyelash - it could certainly go sideways, to first ensure she had the right kind of frog. It just took a slightly different motion, another kind of love, and she could pick and choose every detail: warts and all.

She was a genetic coder - the first of her kind, perhaps, and so were most of her creations. She found that DNA was just a language, one which ran on even some of the oldest hardware, each generation fully backwards compatible. She quickly became fluent, and from there it was froglet's play.

It became a challenge, to see what she could do. She bred them, raised from spawn: each batch of tadpoles carefully nurtured, tested, to find the one who best displayed their genetic potential. The candidate deserving of her kiss. Before long, she had a dozen princelings under her thumb, together with a wizard, a barbarian berserker, some form of jester she'd made wrong but couldn't bring herself to turn back, and a high priest.

It had taken years of research, carefully curating her roles and choosing the perfect prospects to fill them, but now the time was finally here. Today's newt was to be her hero: an honest man, the chosen one, a mantle earned through months of painstaking deliberation in her lab. He was to be the champion of her cause, the one to lead her party to triumph, and install her on the piece of hardware known as the throne.

It was only then, as he raised his sword, that she realised into which role she had cast herself.

[neonscandal]

9 Anime to Watch When You Want to Feel Like 👇🏾

Looking to sate that lovey, dovey, sweet tooth of yours or maybe you just want a saccharine palate cleanser, below are a few short series/movies to check out for casual viewing. While these are mostly the kind of shows that give you the anxious butterflies wondering will they or won't they (they will), I tried to include something for everyone though this is a list deserving of several installments. Either way, the genre de jour is romance✨ even if it does come with a side of laughter.

HoriMiya - (series)

Filed under: "It's popular because it's good", "Opposites attract", "Sunny x Grumpy", "Love Triangle" (but less so- read the manga though), "Unrequited love", high school

Horimiya is a funny comfort watch and palette cleanser because, within the ensemble cast, you see many different types of relationships play out which I didn't include above. I think what adds to this series is the fact that all of the MC's are very in their heads about everything for one reason or another so you will find someone you can relate to. The beauty of this story is knowing that one small thing can ultimately lead to something great and that everyone grapples with coming into their own, one way or another. So, there's a bit of angst in line with a coming of age story but, considering the title is a portmanteau of the two main characters, you know things work out in the end.

Sub/Dub | Funimation, Hulu, Crunchyroll

Sasaki and Miyano - (series + OVA)

Filed under: "It's popular because it's good", "Friends to lovers?", "Oblivious to love", "Love at first sight”, “Slow burn", high school

This is another funny comfort watch for me that is compounded by the fact that the build up and consideration this story takes is so. heartwarming. I would loosely say delinquent adjacent Sasaki falls in love with fudanshi Miyano and spends the whole series being a precious idiot in love. At an all boys' school, Miyano tends to find BL scenarios everywhere, except when it comes to he and Sasaki.

Sub/Dub | Funimation, Crunchyroll

Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku - (series)

Filed under: "It's popular because it's good", "Friends to lovers", "Oblivious to love", "Otaku x otaku", established relationship, office

I'm not going to weigh in on whether there's merit in MC Momose's assumption that being an otaku is relationship suicide. In fact, she swears she'll get it right this time by burying that side of herself down when she starts a new job. But she soon finds she doesn't have to pretend when she bumps into childhood friend Nifuji. While she tries her best to border on "normie", she finds acceptance and space to let her nerd flag fly along with another couple at her office that cosplay as normal people during their 9-5. Relatable.

Sub | Prime Video

Kase-san and Morning Glories (OVA's)

Filed under: Established relationship, high school

So this is tricky as you can really only watch one of the OVA's, wherein they are already in a relationship. Kase and Yamada find themselves excitedly exploring their new relationship while also offsetting the fact that they really don't have much in common. The story is sweet and rather honest about intimacy when it comes to things like your significant other seeing you naked or how we tend to project our uncertainty onto others even in an established relationship. Even though there are a lot of things pulling them apart or reasons why they may be better suited for others, they make a concerted effort to choose and stick with one another.

Sub/Dub | HiDive

Given - (series + movie)

Filed under: "It's popular because it's good", "Friends to lovers", "Love triangle", "Oblivious to Love", "Sleeps with everyone but you", "Dark secrets", college

I can't tell if this is good or if I'm just a casualty of Jonah Scott's Akihiko. It's hard trying to make it in a band. Even if you're talented, there could always be someone out there just a little better than you are. Same could be said about love, I guess. Especially in this series. It glosses over answering questions about some of the more series issues the main characters are facing but ultimately ties things up, even if the bow is shitty (I'm looking at you, movie). I think, without context of the manga, including the movie on the rec list makes it problematic so, dear reader, maybe just stop with the series.

Sub/Dub | Crunchyroll

MY Love STORY!! (series)

Filed under: "Ugly duckling", "Height difference", established relationship, high school

There are several points during this series where I was waiting for the other shoe to drop because Takeo and Rinko are simply so happy and innocent together. There are also several points where I expected this to turn into a BL because of Makoto. Ultimately, I'm glad Takeo is surrounded by the love he deserves because he's a sweet, baby angel.

Sub/Dub | Crunchyroll, Hulu

More than a Married Couple, but Not Lovers (series)

Filed under: "Friends to lovers", "Opposites attract", "Fish out of water", "Forced proximity", high school

This series hasn't finished airing but I'm calling it now. The "get married and settle down" propaganda these days is crazy and that's likely how this little ecchi based on the premise of needing to simulate married life in order to graduate came to be. Additionally, at least one inclusion had to be the very specific romance genre wherein a pining but melba toast dude catches the interest of people extremely out of his league. But things aren't always what they seem, here, especially in the case of gyaru Akari Watanabe.

Sub/Dub | Crunchyroll

My Senpai is Annoying (series)

Filed under: "Height difference", "Unrequited love", "Forced proximity", "Age gap", office

Technically, this show is more of a slice of life when it comes to Futaba Igarashi but I included it anyway because who wouldn't ultimately swoon for Harumi Takeda? Like, we get it, girl, that giant himbo with his old school chivalry and novice comprehension of technology would wear anyone down. TBH, writing that line made me want to rewatch this series again. This is a slightly smaller ensemble but ultimately still working through some funny relationship hiccups. I'm not calling it a slow burn. Reframe your expectations for a slice of life, but it has those awkward bits where characters have burgeoning and unavoidable emotions hence its inclusion.

Sub/Dub | Funimation

TONIKAWA: Over The Moon For You (series)

Filed under: Established relationship, married, ~high school

I lowkey had mixed feelings about this series but included it because, when I ship characters, this is very much what I mean. Just the overwhelmingly wholesome and awkward way two people create a life for themselves even if the milestones are a bit out of order. Additionally, while there's usually an element of boring person not deserving of other person and angst therein, this series highlights ways in which both main characters are beloved so it's literally just the icing of "we're here, we know we're in love, now what?".

Sub/Dub | Crunchyroll

[chaosincurate]

We are living in the best time for music since it became commodified.

I've been working on a big ol' post for the last few weeks, but I like to get out at least two posts a month here, so I thought I'd make a quick post about a bold claim, but a positive one, that I've been thinking about for a little while now: we are living in the best time for music since it became commodified.

I initially thought this when my parents were listening to the radio and I realized that there was more creativity to be gleaned from the music being played on average than I always remembered. Of course, the format is antiquated and I'm baffled as to how anyone that can afford to use anything else at all would choose to listen to the radio, but I digress. I realized that, either the lowest common denominator is more demanding now than ever before in my lifetime, or it was more viable to cater to niches.

One thing I do want to make clear before going on (tangent in green) is that I'm not talking about the financial side of music here. I'm speaking purely on the quality and creativity of the output. Economically speaking, music is a mess, and while I believe the hate for streaming as a format is overblown and over-reliant on attention grabbing statistics than reason, it'd be hard to deny that musicians do deserve a bigger slice of the pie, both in regards to the money they share with the streaming services and the money they share with their own label. And the economics of live music is still absolutely fucked too. But you know all this, lets get back to my hot take.

My reasoning for why I believe the title's statement to be true is quite simple: I don't think we've ever had this high a quality of music on every level of popularity. Whether an artist is a no-name, a popular niche act, or a superstar, there is a good chance that they will be putting out decent music and I believe it's never been so unlikely that it is a mere vehicle for cynical monetary gain.

Point 1: Democratization of Music Creation

It would be possible to argue that the reason I find music to be so good right now is simply because there is so much more, and that generally good stuff is more likely to be heard. Although I don't believe it is as simple as "good music rises to the top", I would agree that the democratization of music plays a big role.

Some might view that cynically, as a simple case of throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks, but I view it more optimistically. I prefer to see this massive spike in music released and think of all the artists that are now able to get their ideas into the world.

Point 2: Widespread Opportunity for Exploration and Inspiration (Artists)

This is, I think, the most important point. We are now seeing artists come through who were using streaming services in their most formative years for music taste, and by extension, inspiration. That means we are currently seeing artists who, in comparison to their predecessors, are far more exposed to a larger range of musical styles, which makes them less bound to each individual one. I believe that leads to artists who are able to wield more tools to evoke an emotion within the listener far more effectively.

Point 3: Widespread Opportunity for Exploration and Inspiration (Listeners)

It's a very similar point to the last one, but it is itself significant. That being the point that audiences have a broader palette than they used to, which I believe is the biggest reason that pop music in particular has been so interesting compared to previous decades. The most popular music around isn't nearly as beholden to trends, and even when trends do exist, they are as interesting as the trends in any other time in music history.

So those are my general thoughts on how music has become what I believe to be the best it's been since it became commodified. Just a quick one to satiate that part of my brain that was telling me to get another post out. What do you think? Am I delusional? Do you agree? Why? I'd love to hear people's thoughts.

[moonlit-tulip]

I agree that limited color palettes of this sort often reduce visual legibility compared with more varied ones. (Although I'd disagree as compared with greyscale.) Still, I like them anyway. For... kind of two reasons, off the top of my head, and plausibly more I haven't articulated as explicitly to myself.

First: a consistent color palette leads to ability to set up consistent color symbolism. Building a distinctive symbolic library is useful, when creating fiction / games / etc., because being able to teach your audience things like "green is the color of Inside The Matrix" or "orange is the color of Struggles" or "yellow is the color of Climbable Ledge" lets you communicate concepts to them in a quicker-and-more-compressed fashion post-teaching. This doesn't inherently imply that the palette needs to be limited in any particularly-aggressive way, but it does at least point in that direction in practice, since having more things be your limited set of symbolically-significant colors means having fewer things-of-indeterminate-color which can be other colors. (Although, conversely, this actively pushes towards relatively high contrast between colors in one's limited palette, in order to avoid people confusing one's symbolically-significant colors for one another in such a fashion as to be confused about what symbol one is attempting to invoke.)

Second: limited color palettes help to convey mood and character to their scenes. A bit like distinctive narrative voices do in prose? When you've got a narrator who Would Not Say certain things that a more Sandersonian clear-pane-y narrator would, and who conversely has a conspicuous tendency towards saying certain other things, this makes for a very different reading-feel than the counterfactual Sandersonian clear-pane-y narrator. So it goes with visual design as well: those mostly-shades-of-orange screenshots feel different to look at, compared with hypothetical recolors of those same screenshots into a more naturalistic color-palette, and limited palettes of that sort often feel more distinctive-and-interesting-and-memorable to me much as distinctive narration-styles in prose do.

(And these two points can go together, of course. When you've built up a symbolic library in which the color blue indicates Scary Dangerous Alien Intelligence, limiting a scene to a predominantly-blue palette is going to lend that scene a very specific bit of subtext, even when no Scary Dangerous Alien Intelligence has yet shown itself within the scene!)

I don't really understand the indie game trend of reducing and muting the color palette so much. It makes things much harder to parse from a visual standpoint. Very possible that my visual processing is just subpar, but some of these color choices just grate on me.

I think this is just difficult to read, maybe even more difficult than going totally monochrome. It's also possible that I just don't like it on an aesthetic level, which might be on me. But it's everywhere!

Why limit the colors like this? What's gained by it? Why do people like this?

With SCHiM I at least get that it probably saves on some amount of work, and helps to make the shadows distinct for the purposes of gameplay. But I still find the muted quality of it a bit baffling.

I'm not a color guy, or a gamedev guy, or really terribly schooled in the visual arts, but I haven't been able to find any kind of analysis of why this is happening as much as it is, whether it's something in the code, in the mutual inspirations, or just the dominant mood of creation. I definitely think I'm seeing too much of it.

[midnightscxre]

Dawn bled its palette of colors across the semi-dark sky. The cold wind bit the skin presaging autumn . Rarely did anyone look forward to Mother Nature's colorfulness with the change of season. What used to be a time of multicolored rustling leaves, the beauty of stripping trees of boring shades of green , carving pumpkins, hot coffee from Starbucks with various additions of caramel, cinnamon and other delicacies, was now only a sign of a more difficult survival. . . which was strained anyway. Tires stained with the mud and blood of the walking dead raced along the narrow road down the mountain. They should have continued to rack up the miles, ignoring the sleepy little ramshackle town  that seemed more like a village between two mountains, but the screeching engine of her black American muscle and the yellow light on the dashboard indicating low gas made the ruby-haired woman turn toward a lonely and deserted place .Her time in this new apocalyptic age has taught her a few useful things - and that is to avoid big towns, especially with a car. In the era where the virus reanimated dead bodies, those monsters were the least thing one should be scared of - people became real beasts. As if anything has changed - humanity has always been the worst plague on this planet. 

Cautiously turning into a narrow alley covered in shadows, Clare parked the car by what used to be a small shoe store. She came out quietly, the black blade of her knife ready in hand for surprises, the gun tucked in her grey yeans as the next precaution. After making sure that the only sounds came from the wind blowing against the windows, the decorations on the shops and the open doors, she covered the car with a military pattern blanket, took a backpack and a small gas can and started to look around for supplies that might have escaped desperate hands when disaster struck. After a couple of desolate stores of food and other necessities and a couple of cars without a drop of gas, her feet led her to where the pine-green eyes spotted a small anomaly - she would have sworn she saw a cornfield in the valley below the town. The closer she crept, the less real the scene became - tomatoes, lettuce, corn. . . things almost non-existent nowadays. Someone must have planted this - someone who was close. Clare replaced the knife she had kept since childhood back in its leather holster, pulling out a gun. She was skilled with both, but the gun still allowed solving problems from a distance, without close contact. And considering the nature of the people who survived in this age, flattening them with the earth as soon as possible from as far away as possible was the wisest move. A heavy, black boot stepped into a small house next to a field. It wasn't locked, and it didn't seem like almost all the other buildings she was in lately - where life no longer existed. Here, the smell and heat gave signs of life -- meaning , threats and dangers. The hand raised the gun, emerald eyes werefocused on the surroundings and the finger was resting on the trigger, while the back was always turned to the wall. She passed the living room, a small hallway, slipped into the bedroom, but only in the kitchen did she come across what she suspected -- another human being.  “  Hands up so high they can almost grab God’s damn balls. One wrong move, a bullet in your skull follows. “ Cold voice warned without hesitation, aiming at the man’s back. “  I’ll ask only once, and if you lie, that is again one piece of lead  between your eyes. Is there anyone else here with you? “ Whatever the answer would be, Clare knew better than to take it for granted, believe him and let her guard down. “  While you are processing this, move those legs and turn away from the counter, back on the wall, now or . . . well, I believe you know what will follow from first two examples. “

it was just another day . the sun was hardly over the horizon , but there was enough light that matthew could see everything clearly outside and make sure his crops weren't eaten by any strange animals or swept away by the harsh winds that had plagued the town the night prior . the weather was unpredictable and unforgiving . when things got too bad , all he could do was starve . as he surveyed his modest field , matt was pleased to find that most everything was still intact . after picking through a few items he'd need for the day , matthew went back inside and shut his door . there was no point in locking it . no one was coming around . no one had for years . when the world first went sideways , matthew kept up hope that someone else had survived , but that hope dwindled over the next months , and was eventually replaced by guilt , resentment , and all sorts of other conflicting emotions about being the last person on earth . it sucked . but now he had a routine . he was simply ... surviving , even now . / closed starter for @inkedpxges

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 2

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 4,000+

Masterlist

————————

Sounds of horns and shouting filled the air outside as you stood on the packed bus. Cramped in from every side, it was hard for you to tell where you were going. Not as if you were paying much attention anyways.

“Okay, you left fish and pasta in the fridge… he could use the tv or read a book for entertainment while you are gone…what about…” You ramble incoherently to yourself.

Even though the storm hit Athens hard yesterday, your studio art professor was still having classes today. Forcing you to leave Triton alone at home. You shouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason to. After all, Triton is a god, he was hundreds of years old.

But…, he was still a child. No matter how old or what type of being he is. He could still possibly injure himself or get into trouble. And that single fact alone made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Is this how parents feel leaving their child alone for the first time…?” You groan to yourself, leaning your head forward so it hits the window in front of you.

“Now Approaching *Athens International School of Art*. I repeat, Now—“ The robotic voice announces over the intercom. At the familiar name of your college, you squeeze your way through the other patrons on the bus to make your way to the doors.

Sweet, sweet air, you think to yourself as soon as you exit the bus. It was starting to get way too cramped in there. So much so, you wondered if it was a safety hazard. Though it wasn’t as if you were one to talk, you left a little boy alone—

“Argh!” You scream out, slapping the cheeks of your face. You needed to stop thinking of Triton. He was going to be completely fine. But, what if…

“I’m getting too attached already…” You groan to yourself. It had only been a day. One singular Day. But you were already smitten by the blonde haired child. “It doesn’t help that he's absolutely adorable as well…”

“Who’s adorable?” A voice calls out from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Whipping around, you let out a sigh once you identify who it was.

“Bryce… how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that…”

Bryce Kroger. He was studying abroad at Athens International School of Art for a year just like you except he was instead an architecture major. You met him by coincidence while taking art history so you didn’t know much about the guy, the only thing being the few stories he told you about his home country of Australia.

“Oi! It’s not my fault you're so skittish!” Bryce banters back with a huff.

“Whatever…”

“Eh? Wait, where you heading?” Bryce questions as he watches you walk away, “I thought you had Studio Art on Fridays?”

“I do. I’m heading to the library first though.” You yell back to the tall male who stayed put where he was standing. Not even bothering to follow you.

“You need to stop studying so much!”

“Shut up!”

“IT’S THE TRUTH!”

“SHUT UP!” You scream back with one final huff before storming off. So what if you studied so much. You just wanted to get good grades in the classes that counted. It’s how you got here in the first place. By working your ass off.

Unconsciously, you feel your hand twitch as you open the library door. So what if you spent hours studying. So what if you didn’t go out with friends that often. So what if you didn’t have a social life. So what—

You feel yourself pause, your expression turning sour. Lonely. That’s what you were. You were lonely. A miserable lonely girl.

“Miss!”

Startled out of your thoughts by the sudden call, you realize you were no longer standing at the front door but instead standing in front of one of the librarians. You must have unconsciously walked up to the front desk while you were lost in thought.

“A-Ah. Sorry, I was just looking for books on Leonar—“

You feel your voice trail off at the end as a book on the counter catches your eye. It wasn’t the gold detailing nor the leather texture. No. It was the simple words of “Greek Mythology: Tales of Zeus” printed neatly on the front.

“…Actually, Do you perhaps have any books about Poseidon?”

You just found something better to do with your time.

—.—.—.—.—

“Damn… this is extremely confusing…” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the pages of notes in front of you. Each book seemed to be a little bit different from the last. “Perhaps I should recap…”

Okay, so what makes sense to you is that Poseidon is the second eldest of three brothers and is the ruler of the seas. The things that don’t make sense are… practically everything else…

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream out of frustration right now.

According to the books, Poseidon has had many consorts over the years. One of them being Triton’s mother, Amphitrite…

“My mother… can be quite mean to other women. Even to some of the female servants around the palace. She believes that they are trying to seduce my father…”

…but that doesn’t match up with what Triton mentioned last night. According to him, it sounds like Amphitrite scared away any women that would even come near Poseidon. This also leads to another flaw in the mythology books. You doubted that Poseidon would be able to have an affair with any other women with Amphitrite antics, nevertheless have 10 other children with them.

“Triton also never mentioned having any other siblings…”

Letting out a groan, which you seemed to be doing a lot today, you banged your head against the table. It seems like these mythology books weren’t going to be of any help after all. Though…. you couldn’t help but wonder why the books were so off in the first place.

Lifting yourself back up from the table, you glare down at one of the book covers. It was blue, almost silvery in a way, with a giant black silhouette of Poseidon right smack dab in the middle. Or, at least, what Poseidon might look like…

“Well, my father is extremely strong and handsome. All the sea nymphs stare at him with big heart eyes half the time. Oh! B-but, father doesn’t pay any attention to them. Father is not a cheater like uncle Zeus…”

“…Is Father…? Oh. He’s alright… He’s nowhere as bad as my mother. He’s never hit me or anything. He’s just… cold. Extremely cold. He really just ignores me half the time…”

“…I do love my father…I just wished he would at least spare me a glance…you know?…Acknowledge his own son…”

“God damn jerk!” You hiss out in anger as you push the book aside. Your blood practically boiling at even the slightest thought of Triton’s father, Poseidon. He doesn’t deserve to have such a good and nice son like Triton.

However, as much as you want to curse out Poseidon more, you realized class would be starting soon and you really had to get a move on.

“Shit. I can’t afford to be late again.”

—.—.—

“Ugh. Why did the professor have to assign me this type of painter…?!” You whined to Yuri. Class had already ended by then with the professor long gone. The only people left were students that were conversing with others or trying to get a head start on their paintings.

“Well, it didn’t help that you barged into class late for the second time this week, (y/n).” Yuri explained with a sigh as she continued to set up her palette, not even sparing you a glance.

Yuri Saito, Or rather Saito Yuri, was an abroad student from Japan. She was the closest person you knew at the college as you both were similar in many ways. Especially since you were both homebodies.

“I get that but at least I showed up in the fir—“

“(Y/n)!” A voice shouts out interrupting your talk with Yuri. You turn around to see Bella Woods, a student apart of your major, approaching you. “(Y/n). You were part of your student council back in high school right?”

“Uh, Yeah. Why?” You answered hesitantly. You weren’t sure why, perhaps instincts, but you were already having a bad feeling about this situation.

“Well I need your help on something…” Bella explains, her voice trailing off at the end as she grabs something from her bag. It’s a piece of paper, a flier to be exact.

“A…A Cultural Festival?”

Bella nods her head at your words, “Yeah. The college wanted to put something on for the public to show what our art school is all about and Mrs. Yamamoto suggested this. A-Apparently, it’s something schools and colleges do back in Japan.”

“B-But how can I help? Wouldn’t it make sense for someone like Yuri to do this? Since she’s from Japan and all.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know a single thing about japanese culture festivals.

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m busy.” Yuri counterbacks with a glare before returning back to her painting.

“Well… you see… The school wanted to change Mrs. Yamamoto’s idea a bit since they really didn’t know anything about Japanese Cultural festivals either. So it’s like a Cultural festival, kind of not.” Bella rambled. You could tell all this information was scrambling her brain as well. “Basically, it’s like a Greek version of a Cultural festival where each major picks a Greek god and plans an event or booth around it.”

“…Okay… So it’s just like a school festival in a way?” You questioned cautiously. This was a lot for you to take in at once.

“Yes. Precisely. We are just taking inspiration from Cultural festivals.”

“Okay. Okay…” You answer as you rub the back of your neck, “I still don’t understand why you need me though?”

“Well, I kind of… kind of saw you reading the mythology books in the library today and we need more people on the planning committee…” Oh, god. It seems like everything is coming back to bite you in the ass, “…Just. Please (y/n), We need your help!”

You let out a small sigh as you watch Bella give you a pleading look, “Fine…”

“Yay—!“

“But…“ You start cutting off Bella’s cheers, “But I’m taking care of something really important right now at home so I can’t always make meetings and things like that. I can help with planning but that’s it. Okay?”

That was correct. As much as you wanted to help Bella and your department out with this festival, Triton was your top priority right now. His care and needs were above all else right now, even your own. So if this would get in the way of that then you would drop this project instantly. Instantly.

“Of course! Oh, thank you (y/n)!” Bella cheers, her body visibly relaxing now that a stress has been taken off your shoulder, “Well, I’m not sure if you're busy right now but… the committee is currently planning two classrooms down… so if you could…”

“I’ll go…” You sighed out. Damn, what’s with you lately. Less than two days ago, people hardly approached you. Now you are as busy as a bee. A person magnetic… Well, more like god magnetic as wel—

Wait, a minute. You feel yourself tense up as a thought flies into your brain. If Gods could travel and spend time on earth, could they live here as well? Just like how Triton wants to?

Shit. What if some that live here are able to identify Triton? You could be in big troub—

“(Y/n)? Are you coming?” Bella calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Y-yes.”

It seemed you would have to worry about that later. Not that it mattered right now, you could always just ask Triton when you got home. And even if he didn’t know the answer you would just have to be careful bringing him out of the house. Yeah… you would just do that.

“Guys, I would like to introduce you to (y/n). She’s a fine arts major just like us and knows about mythology. I think she would make a great addition to our group.” Bella introduces you as you enter the room. As you looked around the group of only 4 other people, you realized you really didn’t know anyone.

That is until everyone started to introduce themselves. You never heard of the first three—Brian, James and Kyle—but you found the last name, Marissa Samudra, quite familiar. You wonder if she was that Marissa.

Who you were talking about was Marissa, the hottest girl in school Marissa. Well, at least that’s what all the boys in your major told you. The girl in front of you at least seemed to fit the part. With white silk like skin, light green eyes and dyed coral pink hair, she truly was a sight to see.

“Okay. So shall we get started.” James suddenly spoke up, seeming to want to get the meeting started. You nodded your head in agreement before taking a seat next to Holly. As well as across from Marissa. “Well, I think we should first decide which god we should do. Culinary, Music, Visual performing arts and architecture already have chosen Aphrodite, Hades, Ares and Zeus. (Y/n)…”

You lift your head up at the call of your name.

“…as you know the most about Mythology, who do you think we should pick?”

“Well,…” You feel yourself pause, your palms growing sweaty out of nervousness. You really didn’t know that much about Greek Gods, only the class you took last year and the books you skimmed this morning. You also didn’t expect so many of the main gods to be taken already.

“…How about…”

You needed to think of someone fast. Someone that would satisfy all parties here. Someone that would bedazzle people coming to the festival.

“…Poseidon…?”

Why… Why was that what your brain had come up with? Poseidon? The very god that you were cursing out this morning. Wishing near death upon.

“Fish man?” Brian questioned, letting out a small chuckle at his own joke, “You really want to go with Fish man as our god? Isn’t there anyone better?”

“I think Poseidon is pretty…cool.” You feel a shiver go up your spine as you compliment the man. It was official, you might actually puke. “…He’s the king of the seas. It gives us a lot to work with for his character. Especially since most Fine Arts students are good at realistic elements, we could really do well on painting or using sea life.”

“True… but—“

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

You are shocked as you hear Marissa cut Brian off. When you first sat down, she seemed totally uninterested in the topic at hand. Caring more about her hair and nails than anything else. But now, now, she was paying attention to every little thing. You couldn’t help but wonder why. “Oh sorry. I really like the sea. It holds a special place in my heart… you know?”

Oh, that makes sense. You totally forgot Marissa’s paintings were mostly about the ocean and sea. Never drifting off to other topics.

“N-no. That’s actually pretty cool. You know what, we should totally do Posedin… or whatever the dude’s name is. He sounds really cool.” Bryan agrees as he bashfully rubs the back of his neck. Gross, could he make it any less obvious that he was smitten by her. And not in a nice way either.

You feel yourself shiver as you watch him sneak small glances down at Marissa’s chest area. Disgusting pervert…

“Well, with that decided let’s move on…”

…Great… You could already tell this was going to be a long meeting…

—.—.—.—.—

Again, for what felt like the hundredth time today, you banged your head against the wall. This time however it was against the door of your apartment.

“Seriously… a Café…?”

Yes, a Café. That’s the brilliant idea your group came up with. An under the sea type themed café.

In hindsight it didn’t sound all that bad. You could have a couple of students paint some props and decorations. Then another couple of students who know how to cook plan out the menu. Maybe even borrow some culinary students if you were lucky.

But,… there’s that.

Outnumbered three to two, the boys of your group insisted the girls that are serving customers should wear togas. Togas. They stated it was to bring in more customers but it was pretty obvious they had other intentions behind it. Especially since they didn’t even bother waiting a couple of minutes afterwards to ask if Marissa wanted to be part of the waiting staff.

“Poor girl… I feel bad for her.” You mumble to yourself as you pull out your keys, finally unlocking the door to your apartment. You wished you could just beat all those men senseless with a baseball bat. “That’s actually not a bad idea… Could I bring a wooden club and say that it's part of the character? They seem to not know that much about—“

“Miss (y/n)!” You hear shouted as something comes barreling into you. Knocking you onto the ground right as you enter your apartment. “O-oops I meant to only say (y/n)…”

Even though you got the air literally knocked out of you, you still let out a small chuckle as you reached up to run a hand through the perpetrator’s locks. Triton’s blonde locks. “It’s okay. I only told you this morning to stop referring to me so formally. It will take time for you to get used to it.”

Suddenly, you wince at a feeling of pain as you move slightly. Triton sure was strong. You, honestly, wondered if he held back some strength when he jumped at you. If so, you wondered how strong Triton was nonetheless an adult god.

Speaking of an adult god…

“Hey Triton.” The boy lifts his head up at your call, “Do any gods live on earth?”

The boy seemed to take a moment to think, “Well kind of? Not really Greek Gods though. Most of them are too proud to live with humans.”

“Oh well that’s goo— Wait, a minute! Other gods are real as well!?”

Triton nods his head furiously, “Yeah pretty much all gods. As long as it is considered as one, it exists. There’s Nordic gods…, Indian gods…, Oh! Even Buddha. I like Buddha, even though I’ve only met him once. He introduced me to salt water taffy! It’s delicious.”

“I-I see…I’ll try to get you some then. Another time.” As much as you wanted to hide your surprise you couldn’t. Learning that Greek Gods actually existed was one situation but learning that All Gods existed was a whole nother ball game. Did that mean demons existed as well?

“Hey (y/n). Could I ask you a question?” Triton asks, suddenly seeming bashful all of a sudden.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could I…” Triton pauses for a moment, “Could I call you…”

You leaned closer to Triton as his voice slowly got softer and softer at the end. His ears and cheeks were bright red as he waited for you to answer. However, you couldn’t answer him as you didn’t hear the last part of what he said.

“I apologize. Could you repeat what you said, Triton? I couldn’t hear the end of it.” You felt bad for asking him to repeat it as his face only seemed to get even more red when you asked.

“I-I… Could I call you… Mom?”

It was silent as his question, or rather request, fell upon your ears. You thought about it for a moment. Especially whether it was morally right for you to have him call you ‘mom’. Even if his true mother was a terrible person, she was still his mother.

Though, then again, She really didn’t act like his mother. Especially in all her hundreds of years of existence of having him. At least from what you’ve heard from Triton. She’s had plenty of chances to show her love for him and she never did.

“Of…Of course you can.”

You feel yourself smile as Triton’s face lit up. And you knew, Deep down inside, that you did the right thing. You would show this boy the love he deserved.

“Hey (Y— Mom.” You giggle at how Triton seemed to practically beam with happiness once the title left his lips.

“Yes, Triton?”

“Could we have dinner right now?”

You feel yourself jump up a little in surprise. Since you stayed later than what you usually would, due to the meeting, you didn’t have anything prepared ahead of time for dinner.

“Ah, yes. Do you think you could wait in the living room while I prepare it?”

“Of course!” Triton answers as he scrambles up off of you. As you make your way to the kitchen—which was technically in the same room as the living room—to start dinner, you find yourself drifting off into your thoughts.

You realized you really hadn’t thought this through. Taking care of Triton and all. Your apartment was small, he didn’t have his own room, he seemed to eat a lot more than a human boy his physical age and so much more.

You wouldn’t be able to buy a bigger apartment right now. Going through college and all. But you could take more shifts at work. After all, it was literally down the street. You were also good friends with the owner of the toy shop next door. You bet he would allow Triton to play with a couple of toys while you worked.

As you continue to list things you would need to take care of Triton especially if it was long term, Triton was watching cartoons on the couch.

“…Wonder cats will be right back!…”

As the show goes to commercial break, Triton feels himself let out a sigh. Television sure was awesome and all, much better than the plays and coliseum matches used to entertain gods, but he despised ads more than anything.

“Who in the world created such a malicious thing…”

Triton’s voice trails off at the end as the ad changes to another. As he stares at the screen, he feels a shiver shoot down his spine. As quickly as he could, Triton changes the channel to another before shakily dropping the television remote. A cold sheen of sweat breaks out all over his skin as he collapses back onto the couch.

To anyone else, the commercial before looked like any normal hair dye commercial seen on Tv. But not to Triton. Especially when he saw something oh so familiar.

“T-that hair color…” Triton feels himself shiver at the thought, “L-looked too much like Aunties. Mom’s…No…

…Amphitrite’s Sister.”

Author Note: Ahhh this chapter contained so much but I knew I couldn’t split it up. Especially if I was doing posting Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was worried that the time frame in between would mess my readers up. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I know there wasn’t a lot of Triton moments but I wanted to get the ball rolling on the plot so that things and certain characters (*cough* Poseidon *cough*) will appear soon. Well that’s it for now, see you next time :)))

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[rainbowchewynuggets]

Hellboy & The Gatekeeper (pt 8)

Heading down the hallway, Hellboy sees what’s causing the booming and rumbling. Giant ghostly white hands are clapped around clusters of support structures. The arms attached to them strain to pull something through a giant wall of white light between two pillars at the far end of the hall.

The hands try to grab him. Instinct tells him to evade. The hands are even more huge up close, which makes them slow. But their weight and rough gnarly texture could tear his skin off and break his bones. Hellboy only has narrow chances to make headway as the thing’s forearms clutter the path leading to the light.

He can hear the monster’s voice now, what he thought was the echoing of the temple’s distress earlier. It’s so loud here that it shifts the dust on the ground and thunders in Hellboy’s ears. Though, he can’t understand the words.

Meanwhile, the possessed Keeper stands on a raised platform at the meeting point of all the other main paths. Calmer, they are more themself. But they haven’t stopped.

They hold their hands high. Purple flames burn in each palm.

Out in the human world, at the edge of a tired Indiana town (captioned: Greensport, Indiana), the marks of the Gate bloom in the ground of a tightly packed threadbare suburb. Orange flames snake up out of the dirt as the marks let them through. Only small flickers at first, hiding under bushes and behind fences. Nobody seems to notice as they come home for the evening. It hasn’t rained.

Hellboy has nearly reached the wall of light.

The hands are too far ahead to reach him, but the noise is pushing the sand back in waves now. Sand is much easier to fight, and he busts his way through with his sleeve covering his eyes. He doesn’t see the extra hand shoot out of the light and catch him like a snake going for the kill.

The flames grow. The Keeper’s expression becomes complicated, as if they’re hesitating. Shallow cracks form from the tension in their neck and shoulders. The flames still grow.

Hellboy can barely breathe in the third hand’s grip. His wounds burn. Struggling only makes the barbs on its surface dig into him harder. The only range of movement available is his back sliding against the lining of his coat. He strains to force himself downward and manages to slip out of the hand’s grip, leaving the coat in the hand’s confused clutch. Hellboy scrambles to close the gap before the hand can feel around for him. Finally, he gets his foot over the line. The other side is bitingly cold, as if he just stepped into an icy lake.

The possessed Gatekeeper stops dead at what they’re doing and turns, the flames in their hands blown out at an instant.

G: No.

The Keeper picks up another fallen support beam and dashes off toward the light.

The flames up top disappear, leaving only tiny burns behind. A dog sniffs at one that just winked out under its favorite tree.

Hellboy enters the dead world. Its deep red, orange, and brown palette makes it look like a wet cave full of molten rust. The creature inside it–so huge it can barely move but not too big to squeeze through the exit if it wanted to–is a nightmare. A grotesque coral skeleton with sharp tusks growing from every inch of its body. Its fourth hand grasps at the wet walls to draw itself forward. Orange and brown liquid runs like blood from its hollow eyes and mouth which burn with white light. The spikes growing from its face cast ghastly shadows on the walls. The shredded robes of other dead hang from its gaping jaws.

Hellboy is tiny in its wake, a little sand sculpture being slowly worn away by an otherworldy wind. It wicks off grains of his body with each passing second. Here, he is colorless, brittle, and a little translucent. Movement feels like pushing against cold wet clay.

The ancestor hoists itself higher, exposing its huge chest of ribs where more dead tatters hang. What robes it once had are gone, leaving a gnarly red-brown carving behind on the limp skin of its collar. It bellows a phrase that makes Hellboy wince, but he only slides back a little.

He pulls his gun and aims for the neck. The head looks too dense to puncture.

Hellboy: Shut up!

The bullet tears the skin apart instantly and buries in bone, but the creature is unfazed. It rakes the walls with its claws, unleashing a hail of boulders and humid dust. Hellboy’s head snaps up. He manages to avoid the biggest rocks and deflect what’s left with his stone hand. He picks one up and throws it at the thing’s ribs. Some crack and fall to the ground. The ancestor doesn’t break stride as it swings a paw at Hellboy. It gets him pretty good, sending him flying into a wall. He tumbles a bit before coming to rest on a high outcropping exposed by the rockfall.

It takes him a minute to pick himself up again and regain his bearings. When he does, he sees the Keeper standing just inside the wall of light, staring up in horror at the remaining ancestor. The beam hangs limply in their hand. The monster is preparing to strike.

H: Kid, move! Move!

The Keeper doesn’t. The cracks in their body deepen and spread. Their eyes well with tears.

Hellboy shoots the ground next to the Keeper’s feet. They snap out of it and bolt just in time to avoid being hit. Hellboy doesn’t see which way because he has to avoid getting hit, himself. When he looks back, the Keeper is out of sight.

————

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[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Tulips And I Bloom In The Spring

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

Requested by @thesupremeswife (the request with the photo) (I’m not posting the photo here because it’s too big and idk how to make it smaller). It’s just fluff because I was angry. I hope you’ll like it, xuxu, and I hope you’ll feel better soon <3

A/N: John Belushi died at the Château Marmont. That’s not really important to understanding the fic but I don’t like leaving out details. As always, English isn’t my mother tongue. x

Word count:  ≈ 4 000

There was a clearing in the forest in the city where you lived, with a stream that flowed lazily through a field of red and yellow tulips. By the stream there were ruins of what had once been a manor. The roof had collapsed, and only the walls still stood. By the wall facing the stream there was a rock and on that rock you liked to sit. In the hottest days you would dip your feet in the fresh water and look at the tulips swaying gently in the breeze.

This clearing was your spot. You would come here when the city grew too loud and you felt like you were drowning. Barely anyone else knew of it. If it started raining when you were there, you’d take shelter under the trees, and if the wind blew the rain a little too hard, you’d lean against one of the walls of the manor to protect yourself from it. It was perfect. It was quiet and lonely and yours.

Sometimes a stranger would walk by and admire the tulips and shoot you a curious glance. You ignored them. Sometimes they would try to start a conversation. You ignored them. You were disappointed in the world and didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

One day in spring as you lay on the soft grass by the ruins, you were startled from your reading by a chatter of voices. A group of people emerged from the forest. A family going on a picnic, you thought. You focused on your book again. But the voices grew louder, and out of the corner of your eye you saw the party cross the stream and saunter towards you.

With an annoyed groan you sat up, set your book on your lap, and raised one hand to shield your eyes from the sun. You noticed one of the men was carrying a camera.

The woman who seemed to be leading the group – she was wearing high-heels in a forest; who wore high-heels in a forest? She was stupid and shallow, you decided – came to a halt in front of you and shot you a dazzling smile.

“So sorry to bother you, dear. Would you mind moving over there?”

“Why?” you retorted moodily. “I was here first.”

The sun hung pearls of light on your eyelashes. You couldn’t see the woman’s features very well.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” she repeated with another charming smile. “We’re here to work and we really need you to move to the other side of the clearing.”

“Well,” you retorted, “I’m really sorry, but I’m not moving.”

That being said, you lay back down on the grass and opened your book to resume your reading.

The man carrying the camera mumbled something you couldn’t hear. The woman raised one hand to shush him. She looked at you, cocking her head.

“Did you know,” she said in a casual, polite voice, “that this place is haunted?”

You ignored her. You knew what she was doing, trying to scare you so you’d leave.

“I’m to make contact with the spirit who’s trapped in these ruins. Tom here is her great grandson.”

“Right,” you mocked, not averting your gaze from your book, “and I’m the pope and I’m here to have a picnic with Jesus.”

You heard the woman sigh. You couldn’t help but shoot her a glance. She raised one hand to her hair, combed her fingers through a golden lock with a graceful, affected gesture.

“Never mind,” she said. “Stay here if you want, but know you’ll be in the shot. Come on, boys. Be careful not to step on the pope.”

You snorted.

You pretended to read as the little group walked around you and settled by the ruins. You watched them out of the corner of your eye.

A tall man who carried himself as if he were the most important person on the planet, strode around the ruins with one hand stroking his chin, muttering remarks for an assistant to scribble down on a notebook. The woman in high-heels disappeared inside the manor and came back ten minutes later, looking pleased. She winced as someone with a round reflector threw sunlight in her eyes.

You decided they were here to shoot a movie and this woman was the main star. There was no way she had told you the truth. Spirits and ghosts and haunted ruins didn’t exist. Maybe you would have believed in them had you still been a child. What you did believe in, though, was liars. People who smiled pretty smiles and used pretty words to manipulate you and get what they wanted. You knew what life was like. A constant battle, everyone protecting themselves from each other.  

A few minutes later, a man walked up to you carrying a box and said: “Billie Dean says I have to do your makeup since you’ll be in the shot.”

“What the fuck?” you growled, glancing up at the man. He was young, and looked pretty uncomfortable.

Behind him you heard Billie’s voice call tauntingly: “Cannot have this messy head of hair of yours in my show.”

You sat up, shot her a look. “Excuse me?” you growled.

Billie was standing in the main doorway of the ruins, fluffing her hair, not looking at you.

“It’s not my fault you refused to move,” she sang. She turned to you, flashed you a smile – arrogant, smug, infuriating.

The man crouched down beside you and opened his box. Inside were two eyeshadow palettes, brushes, an array of lipsticks, foundation, mascara and things you were seeing for the first time in your life. The man cocked his head and squinted at you, as if considering which colour would fit you best.  

“What the – “You stood up as he took a brush out from the box. “Don’t you dare touch me or I’ll kick you.” You clenched your fists, turned to Billie Dean. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars,” she grinned. “I’m merely trying to do my job, dear.”

For a few seconds you scowled at her. Then you picked up your book and stomped to the other side of the clearing.

“Thank you so much!” Billie chimed.

You ignored her.

You opened your book and tried to read, but the words didn’t make sense. Vague anger was gnawing at your heart. You rolled over to your side, but it wasn’t comfortable enough. You lay on your stomach, but it hurt your neck. With an annoyed huff you sat up, crossed your legs, and watched the tulips.

Your eyes drifted to the manor. Billie Dean was standing in the doorway, talking to the man called Tom. You finally took the time to really look at her. A white lace dress that clung to her waist, pale pink acrylics, lips painted a soft red. You stared at her bare legs and suddenly it was too hot in the clearing. Certainly the sun had moved a few inches closer to Earth.

Tom nodded, turned, and disappeared inside the ruins. Billie Dean lingered in the doorway, and part of you suspected she wanted you to admire her. You told yourself you wouldn’t, just to spite her. You turned your attention back to your book and scowled at the page.

You didn’t know how to read anymore. Your eyes kept going back to Billie.

And then she ran one hand through her hair, once, twice, three times, turned and flashed you a smug smile before she walked inside the ruins.

With an angry groan you lay down on the grass and closed your eyes. You were sweating, your heart was beating too fast. After a moment you opened one eye. The clearing was deserted. The tulips swayed gently in the breeze. It looked exactly the same as a few minutes before, and yet something had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint what. Something in the air, maybe, something you couldn’t see but breathed, and it went through your lungs and contaminated the very cells in your body.  

An hour later you decided it was time to go home. You hadn’t read a single page and there was no point in staying here. But your body refused to move. So you decided you’d take a nap. You closed your eyes, rested both hands on your stomach. You listened to the whisper of the breeze in the trees and the songs the birds were chirping at the sun and the soft muttering of the stream. All of nature was alive, and all of nature had been contaminated by that new thing in the air because now all of nature was singing of her.

A shadow fell on you. You opened one eye and shot up.

Billie smiled that arrogant smile of hers and arched an eyebrow. “Would you fancy a drink?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open. You closed it. “What?”

“We’re done here, and I thought,” she pointed one long finger at you, “that I could buy you a drink to thank you for being so accommodating.”

You stared at her finger for way too long. When your brain rebooted, you tried to give her a look, but the sun was in your eyes and made you wince.

You ordered your mouth to say “No”, but your mouth said “Yes”. The smile it drew from Billie was worth it, though.

“Splendid!” she exclaimed, curling her finger and touching the tip of it to her palm. “I know just the place for you.”

The place in question was a very fancy, very bucolic coffee shop on a river bank. You sat down at a round table on the terrace with a vase of roses in the middle. Billie took the liberty to order a glass of lemonade for you, and sat back in her chair as she lit a cigarette.

You didn’t realize you were staring at her until she teasingly blew smoke in your direction and asked you if there was something on her face.

“Jeez, no, you look perfect,” was what came out of your mouth. You silently scolded yourself.

“Why, thank you,” Billie smiled. “I had a feeling I was to meet a pretty girl today, so I had to make sure I looked my best.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You won’t fool me with all this seducing of yours,” you said, squaring your shoulders to look fierce. “I don’t care for crooks.”

Billie arched an eyebrow. Her smile became polite. “You think I’m a crook?”

“Talking to spirits?” You snorted. “Yeah, I think you’re a crook.”

“I’d have to be one crazy masochist to have willingly chosen this life, wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged. “How could I know?”

Billie blew out smoke, crossed her legs and threw her head back.

“So you don’t believe in what I do?” she asked in a sweet voice.

You held her gaze. “No.”

An amused smile. “And yet here you are, having a drink with me. I wonder why.”

You tried to think of a witty answer, but your brain was empty of words. Thankfully you were saved by the arrival of the waiter, who set your drinks on the table and flashed Billie an enamored smile.

The sun was setting and splattering the river with blinding specks of light. Billie closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. You sipped your drink, and tried – but failed – not to blush when she caught you staring.

You straightened your shoulders, cleared your throat. You said, to distract her attention from your reddening face, that you would watch the next episode of her show. She laughed, threw back her head again, and lit another cigarette.

After that there were a few minutes of silence as Billie watched you and you pretended not to watch her. You turned your head and stared at the river.

Billie took your hand in both of hers. You shot her a glance.

“Do you often think such dirty things while contemplating the sunset?” she taunted, mischief glinting in her eyes.

“Excuse me?”you blurted out.

She smirked. “I can see what you’re thinking, dear. That’s part of my gift.”

You stiffened in your chair, heat rising to your head. You had half a mind to withdraw your hand from her grip. You decided not to.

“What’s the point anyway?” you asked her after a few long, uncomfortable seconds had passed. “I’m not into one-night stands.” You paused. “They make me sad.”

Billie hummed. For a second she looked almost wistful. Then she started stroking her thumb on the back of your hand.

Her fingers were cold. You wondered if pressing them against your mouth would warm them up.

When you both decided it was time to leave, Billie insisted she paid for your drink. You stood awkwardly behind her as she laughed with the waiter, then followed her out.

On the threshold you stopped and met her eyes. She gave you a smile.

“Well then, darling, I guess this is goodbye,” she said.

You shrugged. You looked down, toed at the ground. You saw Billie Dean’s shadow move on the concrete, sliding closer to you – and then you felt her lips, hot and soft, plant a sweet kiss on the right side of your jaw.

Your heart jumped. You took a sharp intake of breath, eyes growing wide as Billie lay one hand on your cheek to guide your head towards hers. She pressed her mouth against yours, barely touching, and pulled away before you could register what was happening, but it left you shivering and burning and aching for more.

She met your eyes again and smirked, arrogant and confident and so goddamn irritating. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she hummed. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The day after, you went back to the clearing. You pretended you didn’t know why. You pretended it was because the weather was warm and the so sky blue and the sun so bright.

The air in the clearing was still full of Billie. The place had been irremediably contaminated by her. It would never be the same now. It wasn’t peaceful anymore; it sang of longing and desire.

You walked into the ruins and lay your hands on the walls and pricked up your ears. You called out loud to the spirit, before deciding you were stupid. There was no such thing as ghosts.  

When you turned to leave, Billie Dean was leaning in the doorway, watching you. A huge grin tugged at her lips.

You met her eyes and felt heat flood your cheeks and ears.

“Um,” you said.

“I’m the only one who can hear her, baby doll,” Billie sang. She ran her eyes up and down your body, and licked her lips.

Your eyes flicked down to them.

“I don’t believe you,” you heard yourself say. “I don’t believe ghosts are real.”

Billie’s grin grew. She straightened up and walked towards you.

“Then why are you trying to communicate with them?” she whispered, like a secret, as she came to a halt right in front of you. Your gaze drifted from her lips to her eyes.

“What is the ghost saying to you?” you asked.

Billie chuckled, raised one finger. “Spirit, dear.”She brushed the tip of her finger over your lip. “She’s saying,” Billie went on, her voice dropping an octave lower, “what a beautiful young thing you are, and I would be a fool not to kiss you.”

You shivered at how dark Billie’s eyes were. Without thinking, you nipped her finger.

The dark in Billie’s eyes turned predatory. She smirked, slipped one arm around your waist and pulled you close.

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. Your skin tingled where her arm touched you. You put one hand on her chest to hold her back.

“Why are you here?” you breathed.

“I am being,” she answered, eyes flicking to your mouth, “irresistibly drawn to you.”

Your brain was empty of thoughts. It wasn’t a brain anymore but a recipient made to contain Billie’s scent, Billie’s warmth, Billie’s touch, Billie’s everything. “I don’t believe in love at first sight,” you heard yourself whisper.

Your mouth was dangerously close to hers. Her breath was tickling your lips with every exhale. Her breath was silk, and it caressed your skin.

Billie chuckled. “There’s a lot of things you don’t believe in, sweetheart.” She stroked the corner of your mouth with her thumb again, and you gave in.

Billie grinned into the kiss as if she had won some kind of war and you mumbled, “Shut up”, because she had, in a way. But dear you, she was irresistible and you wanted – needed – all of her.

She must have been right, after all. There was something, some kind of force, drawing you towards each other. You had never felt this way before, this level of want, this carnal need to be with her and know what it really meant to make one with someone. You were certain the moment you’d touch her, your soul would be healed.

Billie slid her tongue inside your mouth and you moaned softly, dug your finger into her butt in retaliation.  

Billie shuddered. “Take me to your place, now,” she rasped.

“It’s too far away,” you whined, desperately pushing your hips against hers.

Billie chuckled. She pressed her mouth to your jaw, peppered delicious kisses down your neck that drew another moan from you.

“There’s a hotel right at the edge of this wood. Close,” you breathed.

“Close,” Billie breathed back. You felt her shiver against you at the promise this word held. “Oh God, close.”

**

When you woke up the next morning, the bed was empty. You extended your arm, patting the mattress, finding nothing. Your eyes shot open. You sat up, dread tightening your throat, when you finally realized you could hear the sound of the shower running. Billie’s clothes still lay on the floor where she had abandoned them. Steam curled out from the slightly-opened bathroom door.

With a relieved sigh you slumped back onto the bed. A smile tugged at your mouth as you buried your face in the sheet. You rubbed your nose on Billie’s pillow to catch a whiff of her perfume.  

Part of you was screaming for you to just grab your things and run away. There was no plausible scenario in which this could end well. You and Billie lived two very different lives, and you were you, and Billie Dean was… Billie Dean. She was perfect and charming and successful in every way.  

But then – but then there was that other part of you which was singing. It was so deliriously happy and it was begging you to try. Give her a chance. Don’t let her go. Do anything, give anything to make her stay.

You opened your eyes and raised your head when you heard footsteps. Billie met your eyes, froze, smiled a rather nervous smile.

The air left your lungs. She was wearing a grey tank top and white panties. Her hair was still damp from the shower, not yet brushed, and her face was completely makeup-free. She obviously looked a bit uncomfortable, as she picked her clothes from the floor and held them against her stomach.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were still asleep.” She gave you another nervous smile. “What are you staring at?”

“You,” you blurted out. You blinked, cleared your throat. “I love your face with no makeup on.”

“Oh.” She chuckled, lowered her head. “I’m not looking my best.”

“Nonsense,” you replied fiercely. “You look stunning.”

She peeked up at you, a soft blush blooming in her cheeks. You bit your lower lip and opened your arms. “Come here and give me a hug?”

Billie seemed to hesitate. Her body leaned towards the bathroom, then towards you. She dropped her clothes on the floor and hurried to you.

With a giggle you pulled her down with you, resting one hand on the nape of her neck to guide her mouth to yours. You opened your eyes during the kiss to admire her.

When Billie pulled away, she sat on the bed next to you and sighed happily. You leaned towards her, combed her hair back from her face and gathered it in one hand. Then you reached for your phone and, before she had time to realize what you were doing, you snapped a photo of her.

“Y/N,” she laughed, half-amused, half-embarrassed.

You frowned at your phone. “Wait, it’s bad,” you whined. “I can only see the top of your head.” You raised your phone. “Let me take another, come on, look at me pretty please.”

Billie laughed again, louder. “I’ll let you take all the photos you want once I’ve made myself up, baby doll,” she sang.

She made to stand up, but you grabbed her arm and pulled her back down so she was lying on top of you.

“Don’t go,” you whispered against her mouth. “Stay here with me forever. Let’s never leave this bed.” Billie hummed, planted a lazy kiss on your collarbone. “I don’t care about your ghosts. They can survive without you.”

Billie chuckled. She raised her head, and you automatically buried your fingers in the long, damp locks of hair that framed her face.

“Spirits, dear,” she corrected you. She lowered her head again, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your neck.

“Spirits,” you breathed. Billie was kissing a trail up your neck, her mouth hot and wet. You shivered, wrapped your arms around her waist. You pushed your head back to give her more access.

You knew it wasn’t wise or safe to offer this complete stranger intimacy and vulnerability on a silver platter, with a curtsey to boot. But it felt like you knew her, somehow – or rather, it felt like something deep inside you knew her, had known her in another life maybe, and was slowly waking up to her touch. Coming home.

And you knew you were supposed to be done with the world, supposed to be disappointed in it, supposed to be disillusioned, but you didn’t want to be disillusioned anymore. You wanted to find again the capacity to hope and to dream and most of all to believe without a doubt that your dreams would come true.  

You sucked on her lower lip when her mouth met yours, and whispered, almost angrily, “What do you hope to get from this? Us? Because I don’t want a fucking remake of The Bridges of Madison County. Will you promise me never to break my heart?”

She pulled away to look at you. Her brow furrowed.

“I’m afraid I cannot promise you that, my love.”

“Will you promise me you’ll try?”

A smile. A poke on your nose. “That I can do.”

“Will you take me to the Château Marmont? I’ve always wanted to spend a night there.”

Billie chuckled, buried her face in your neck. She held you close, as if you were something precious, as if she were coming home, too.

You brushed back a strand of her hair to whisper in her ear, “You can’t say no. I’ve got a picture of you barefaced. ”

“Fine,” Billie laughed, her voice muffled against your skin. “Cocktails with John Belushi are at 6pm every Friday. I’m pretty sure he’ll have a great time trying to scare you.”

Tag list: @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills

[twh-news]

Interview: Makeup Artist Douglas Noe on Loki’s Looks Through the Years & Creating Anew for ‘Loki’ [EXCLUSIVE]

Douglas Noe has been in Hollywood for three decades. An award-winning makeup artist, he’s worked on projects such as World War Z, Planet of the Apes, Spider-Man 3, I Saw the Light, and Birth of a Nation. On top of these impressive credits, he’s also been Tom Hiddleston’s personal makeup artist since joining the MCU in The Avengers, designing all of the looks for Loki’s subsequent appearances.

Noe has been nominated for three Emmys with one win, and five Makeup Artist and Hairstylist (MUAHS) Awards resulting in two MUAHS awards. His skills include creating making natural and period looks, prosthetics, hair, and tattoos.

Along with being the head of the makeup department for the most recent Disney+ series Loki, Noe is also creating looks for the new Netflix comedy series True Story starring Kevin Hart and Wesley Snipes.

We had a chance to chat with Douglas Noe about his work on Loki, The Avengers, the incomparable value of teamwork on set, and most importantly, Richard E. Grant.

Nerds and Beyond: So you started your Marvel journey with The Avengers, but what drew you to your field in the first place? And how did you get your start?

Douglas Noe: Star Wars was a huge influence to me as a young boy, both sketching and drawing, and a little bit of sculpting but not much. Cut to 1983, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” comes out and I find a magazine called Fangoria on the newsstands where I can order blood and wax and pencils and fake hair. So, I started playing with these things. I was also taken with the horror movie craze that was happening in the early 80s — Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th, and others, obviously.

In High School, in 1984, I joined choir thinking I would get an easy credit, but my voice had not changed. So the choral instructor had been waiting for a boy soprano to do a theatrical opera presentation. So with that I sang the lead, I quit choir after that, because my peers were merciless, but, I learned the world of theatrical makeup which I hadn’t been introduced to.

I did years of theater. I went to a performing arts high school — it’s called Fort Hayes School for the Performing Arts in Columbus, Ohio — graduated, went to beauty school, and continued working in Ohio doing industrial, commercial, theater, and opera [makeup]. Worked for Maybelline and Revlon, got restless, worked in Cincinnati on my first film in the summer of 1990, it was July so 31 years ago, A Rage in Harlem. And my boss said you come to Los Angeles, I’ll make sure you get on your feet.

Nerds and Beyond: So you mentioned that it’s been about 31 years since your career started, what’s changed over the course of those 30 years in your field?

Douglas: How much time do we have? I’d say the biggest, biggest change would probably be the way we make these things now. Although another large change, more specific, would be the materials that we use. There’s a constant evolution and reinvention of almost all aspects of the materials that a makeup artist uses. That said, I have to shine a light on the way we do things now with the onset of digital and digital cameras. Shooting on film now has almost completely fallen by the wayside. Film was very forgiving, quite frankly, and now it’s not so forgiving. And because of that, the bar has been raised. The wonderful thing about this journey is watching my peers just get better and better and better, my colleagues rising to meet the challenge of not having anything to hide from with this new way we make films.

Nerds and Beyond: So, sometimes you kind of throw prosthetics to the wayside in favor of a more traditional makeup. How do you make that decision on which one to go with?

Douglas: That’s an excellent question. The decision is based purely on what are we going to see. That’s where I start, what is the lighting? I have a conversation with the director of photography and I find out what is the dynamic. Obviously, I know from the script whether it’s an interior or exterior, or if we’re exterior but we’re going to be on a stage, if it’s day or night. These variables all play into my decision as to whether or not I should rely on my theatrical experience and ability to paint 2D to appear 3D, or go ahead and make small prosthetics and put them where I need to put them and use actual prosthetics in lieu of paint.

That has everything to do with lighting, locations, logistics, and because most of his [Loki’s] wounds appear on his arm and some on his face in the Void, it’s all very moody and very dark. And again, the theatrical quality of the paint is not going to be altered by the changing light, it’s just going to react the same way the rest of the face is going to react. It’s purple light, it’s going to make everything have a purple hue. There was no accounting for any correction that didn’t need to be done. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. It’s real.

Nerds and Beyond: So, you did make up for not only Tom on Loki, but you helped plan out the looks for everybody?

Douglas: Yes, what I do is I surround myself with strong talent. It’s all about team. I designed Wunmi Mosaku, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Sophia DiMartino, and Tom [Hiddleston]. Regarding the rest of it, Neil Ellis, both Dennis Liddiard and I, added to the elements of his scars and wounds, which you would only see in close-ups.

The rest of it, the parameters are set — Blade Runner to Mad Men — and stay in those confines. And obviously, I choose color palettes for the women and there are parameters set for the men, but then it’s about team. I’m a big one on a team and not putting my thumbprints on other people’s work, but rather build other people up so they feel like they own what they’re doing.

My team consists of artists that also have stronger resumes and quite frankly, skills that exceed mine. It’s the mutual trust that allows us to keep a high level of artistic integrity in every aspect of the job. It also means I get the very best from my team, and it shows on the screen.

So, I didn’t have every look in my hand. Dennis Liddiard designed the Mobius character and I had Ned Neidhardt run with Gugu and turn up the volume on some of the elements that she already possesses that we can play with. Her eyes and lips, I think Ned turned the volume on both. And because we’re shooting in order, it’s a progression in the makeup you did.

Nerds and Beyond: When it came to Sylvie and Loki, when you when you’re doing those, did you try to kind of plan them both to have any similar things to give them a Loki look?

Douglas: It’s a fair question, but the answer is no. So again, I think the characteristics and traits that were going to be similar among them, aside from wardrobe and costume hints, were all character driven. And I did nothing with the makeup and hair to try to make them look or even closely resemble each other.

Nerds and Beyond: I want to kind of back up a little bit to Tom in the first Avengers film. That was by far one of his most standout looks. Can you tell me anything about what went into the creation of that absolutely tormented, haunted look that he had throughout that entire movie?

Douglas: Yeah, and that’s probably one of the elements that, because the character has evolved, we kind of left with Avengers because by the end of Avengers, and we carried it into Endgame, he does have a bit of an edgier look in Avengers, and not many people pick up on it. But the reality is he’s a little sculpted in Avengers.

I remember sculpting his cheekbones and temples, and doing a little play on his forehead for when he’s in the cell on the Helicarrier carrier with all that overhead lighting. I did like a little devil horn shadow, which is so subtle. The only person who’s going to notice is anybody who looks back at it and having read this and knows what to look for, but it is so nuanced and so subtle. And that’s the only place I think we did that. But the rest of him is very much chiseled and sculpted, but it’s a light touch.

And I think, again, as he evolved through the Marvel Universe and into the other movies that was something that was easy to leave behind, because I think that look played directly into his evil desire to rule over Earth. We rested that design element with that storyline.

Nerds and Beyond: It’s very clear too and I’ve always loved looking at that, because I’m a huge fan of the character. I’ve always loved kind of comparing how he looked in that movie to the rest of them.

Douglas: You’re on to me!

Nerds and Beyond: I’m not! I swear [laughs] So, what’s your best method for making the actors comfortable in the makeup chair? And with the final outcome?

Douglas: It’s dialogue; listening, talking to them, talking to their representation, whether it be an agent or a manager, and doing my homework and doing my due diligence to find out what’s going to make them comfortable the moment they walk through the door. I do my homework on them. It’s not just IMDb, it’s an internet search. So, I spend some time on the web and find out who these folks are, and if I find out, for example, they’re not one that likes to talk a lot, well, the writing’s on the wall, we’re not going to talk a lot, we’ll cut to the chase and get to the point. But also, it’s about building a rapport and building a relationship. Also, knowing that, I’ve said this in previous discussions, knowing it’s necessary to get out of the way.

Like if, for example, I’m not a proper fit for somebody, I have to be plugged in, I have to be aware enough to understand that it may not be working before somebody says to me, “Hey, this isn’t gonna work.” So it’s just about being open, especially as Tom’s personal on these projects and running the department, knowing that I don’t get to do everybody. I don’t get to put my thumbprint on other people’s work. Because not only is that disrespectful, it’s very often unnecessary, because I hire good people. I hire contemporaries and peers. Truly, you’re only as good as your weakest crew member. I surround myself with good people.

So, take Owen Wilson, for example, it would have been wonderful to do Owen’s makeup, but there were times when he was not going to be shooting with Tom and I was going to need to be ready for Tom or available to Tom, so it didn’t make sense. So I never touched Owen, I had Dennis Liddiard design that look and run with it. And then Ned Neidhardt took over that look when Dennis had to depart. That’s just one example of not trying to do everything.

Another one was the Classic Loki. I wanted to do Richard E. Grant’s [makeup] so bad, I can’t even tell you. I’ve been a huge fan since 1987. I wanted so badly to bring that full circle, didn’t make sense. It just didn’t make sense. So again, I never touched him. It wasn’t necessary. Ned was always there. And I think the same thing happened to me on Ragnarok reshoots, which I ran in Atlanta again with Dennis Liddiard. I wanted so badly to do Sir Anthony Hopkins makeup, but it didn’t make sense. So I was happy to hand it off to Bill Myer.

Nerds and Beyond: Oh man, I loved Richard E. Grant in this show so much.

Douglas: He’s amazing.

Nerds and Beyond: He’s so good!

Douglas: He really is. And he’s that good in person. He’s just so fun and interesting and alluring and attractive. He’s such a wonderful, wonderful person and, of course, a phenomenal actor.

Nerds and Beyond: I was watching little videos that he posted and he just seems like the warmest person.

Douglas: You know, just one last tidbit about Richard Grant is he’s got wonderful stories and as he’s telling them he’ll often stop and pause and just laugh. Just laugh, not for the sake of the stories or for anybody that he’s telling the story to, but because recounting the story brings him true joy. So he’ll stop and embrace that joy. Oh, it’s so wonderful.

Nerds and Beyond: That’s so amazing to hear. What is the most memorable job that you’ve done?

Douglas: The most memorable … That’s a tough one because I have so many fond memories of so many projects. The first Avengers film was memorable because there was a buzz, there was a vibration, a frequency, that was in the air when we were shooting that. We kind of knew we were making something big and something special. I don’t think any of us knew how big or how special it would be, but that certainly is one of the most memorable and most special projects.

I’m pretty good about focusing on the positive aspects of all these things, regardless of how difficult the project may be for whatever reason. The pros always, always heavily outweigh the cons, but I have a lot of wonderful, memorable experiences. Another one, it’s the polar opposite only because of the conditions in which we shot, but Birth of the Nation was one of the most memorable and exceptional experiences of my career. I was on the wrong side of 40, had 25 years of experience, and had still never worked so hard in my entire life. We did a 50-day shoot in 27 days. So proud of the work we did.

It was 100 degrees with 99 percent humidity, we shot it in the summer in Georgia, in Savannah, so it was hot, humid, and just getting the makeup necessary to be on individuals to stay put was its own challenge. And then the other challenges only added to that. But Nate Parker, the director, writer, producer, and lead actor, he is a special human being. And he was inspiring from start to finish. Usually, the first people in are the teamsters, transport department, and usually I’m second. He beat me in almost every single day. He’s in three hours before he needs to be. That was a very special experience.

Nerds and Beyond: Finally, are you excited about the news of Loki Season 2?

Douglas: I’m beyond thrilled! I invite being in the dark a little bit, I kind of like surprises and I like not knowing, so I suspected, but hearing the news confirmed, I was thrilled, naturally. What are they going to dream up? This is amazing. How do you top season 1 of Loki? That’s the burning question.

[rattlerinthewheel]

Beast of Our Behaviors: Scud/OMC

Scud and a friend hang out like old times.

For a prompt request by @pandoratriestowritestuff: 9) "I don't care how good it feels, you'd better not cum until I tell you to" and 13) "Touch yourself for me", taken from @palettes-and-prompts’ 100 Smut Dialogue Prompts.

Fic title is a song from The Crystal Method.

Chapter title is lyrics from TCM and Bubba Sparxxx’s PHDream, which is what Scud has playing when he meets Whistler.

- - -

"Old man, fuckin’ prick. Ain’t even around yet and he’s pissing me off. 'He’d do this, he’d do that.' Bullshit."

Something about one of his bosses not being around, and they’re looking for him, Marley thinks. He isn’t sure, he’s been zoning in and out, letting Josh vent.

Marley lets his head go ragdoll-limp and flop on the lump of beanbag his weight’s rearranged. Just getting a hazy picture of dark shapes, so he blinks, and then he can make out a pair of pacing red denim legs. They’re baggy and hide the feet, except for the toes of the white socks. The only bright thing in the studio, with the lights off, except the crummy TV playing some DVD the guy on the street said was popular overseas (didn’t tell him it wasn’t in English, the asswipe, so it’s reduced to background noise rather than entertainment).

The pacing halts, blocking half of the yellow-haired chatterbox, and a sigh freshens the earthy reek that was just beginning to fade. He pulls it in, a deep inhale, like he isn’t high enough already. Not like second-hand does much for him.

Any kind of it. Emotions included, which is why he ignores the grumbling and reaches out, fingers wavering because his world’s inverted, to snag the hem of the pants. "Jus’ tell him to fuck off, then."

The denim kicks free. Marley goes for it again, getting a better grip, ignoring the, "Quit bein’ an ass," as the denim kicks again but can’t get loose.

"Point’a you coming over if you’re just gonna bitch?" Marley asks. Something in his neck aches as he lifts his head to look up at the face that owns the denim he’s latched on to. "Thought we were gonna do shit."

"We always do shit," chapped lips huff.

Marley licks his own. Inspired, forgetting about the denim, he fumbles off his bean bag and drops to his haunches in front of his mini fridge. Bristling with anything a stoner could want (well, the shit that doesn’t need to be cold is piled on top) but all he goes for is a soda. He thinks he read something once about it dehydrating more than doing him any good, but he’s pretty sure that’s bullshit. It’s cold going down and wets his lips, how couldn’t a drink hydrate?

Government bullshit.

But when Marley turns around, his seat’s been stolen. He doesn’t mind the view it gets him: Josh, splayed out across the chair, an angry starfish. His joint’s in one hand, sagging in a half-assed pinch between his middle and ring finger, and Marley would worry about the carpet catching if he wasn’t drawn to the point where those sprawled legs lead.

Haven’t done shit yet, might as well, so he takes one big swig of his soda, jams it up on top of the fridge between two bags of chips, and pounces—if crawling over on his hands and knees and pawing at the practically-offered bulge could be considered a pounce. A stoner’s pounce, he decides: lazy and slow.

"Mm, thought you’d never," Josh hums, and Marley scoffs and elbows his thigh.

"Been tryin’," Marley grumbles as he pries away the zipper, then the boxers beneath, to get at the stiffy that’s just beginning to take. It’s easy to pull it out, get the foreskin down, and he gets in three slow pumps on his own before Josh starts to arch into his hand. "So now you wanna."

"Man," Josh pants, somehow going boneless and tense at the same time: his limbs melt while his body goes rigid. It gives Marley something to work against, and the sigh a slower pump earns puffs the hit Josh takes up into the stuffy apartment air.

"Gimme," Marley tells him, thrusts stumbling as he reaches for the joint with his free hand.

The end’s bitten and wet but he gets his lungs filled with earthy smoke anyway, and he forces them to hold it longer than he usually would’ve. When Marley does let it go he’s dizzy, and he wavers on his knees and has to grab one of Josh’s thighs.

The joint sticks out between his fingers, wagging with him, and Josh hisses as it bobs dangerously close to his cock. "Watch it."

Marley giggles as Josh reaches for the joint for another hit. It’s a brief fight, because Marley knows Josh was hogging it way too damn much and Josh doesn’t want to interrupt the hand job. In the end he’s got the joint back in his mouth, and he’s not a starfish anymore, propped up on his elbows so he can watch. Marley doesn’t mind an audience, so he gives Josh a show.

"Fuck," comes on the heels of his thumb swirling around the head, then his palm taking its place so his fingers can drape down and stroke up. That doesn’t get as much of a reaction, so Marley goes back to his first grip. The firm, sluggish stroke down to the base mashes his hand into the blonde curls springing around it.

Josh bucks his hips again, and Marley freezes, near the tip this time. "Behave," he teases.

Blue eyes lock onto brown and Josh growls, "Y’want me to do you after? Keep goin’."

Marley giggles again, a true high giggle, as Josh tugs him forward so he’s close enough to kiss. It’s awkward, the joint getting shoved to the corner of Josh’s mouth, singing their cheeks. But it’s good, because that means Marley gets a mouthful of earthy smoke on top of the sugar of the donuts they scarfed down earlier.

Josh’s cock twitches in his grip when he leans forward enough that his own stiffy, clothed, bumps it. "Uh uh, you ain’t finishing unless I say."

And Josh snorts at that, and Marley can’t keep his composure. He outright laughs and topples onto the stoner under him, kissing him harder, forgetting about the hand job. Josh doesn’t, grinding under him, which reminds Marley that yeah, right, he’s got one too. Funny how weed can make him forget that. It aches, like he’s going to explode right there, now that he remembers.

"Touch yourself," Josh pants as Marley’s rucking up his band shirt. It’s awkward, with how he’s straddling Josh, his legs kind of holding him and kind of not. Too much distance, the bean bag and body puts between the floor and his hips.

Marley’s too busy running his fingers over the scars webbing the exposed belly to pay attention; a pinch to his hip makes him jump, and he’s scrambling for his own fly as Josh watches, smoke fogging his face, but Marley can still see the tongue poking out in the corner that means he’s concentrating.

"Cute," Josh teases as Marley gets his jeans down as much as he can while keeping his position—because right, his zipper’s busted, damn—but pauses to scowl. "What? They are."

Marley scoffs and parts his boxers briefs—ignoring the red, yellow, and green zig zags; so what if they’re stoner colors, they were a gag gift someone got him, they fit, so why not use ‘em?—and groans when he plants one hand on Josh’s shoulder to brace himself and starts to stroke. Easy to ignore, when he wasn’t getting too much stimulation; but now, shit, he’s shaking and greedy and gladly lets Josh paw at him to help.

They get in their scuffles, know how to fight, but it’s not too often they resort to it; not now, either, but the rough pets make Marley shudder, the lack of lube, the tugs that rut his balls against Josh’s pinned shaft under him. They’re both getting off, this way.

"Not till I say so," he hums when he feels it—pre-cum, not his, making a damp spot on the thigh of his boxer briefs.

Josh hisses, holding out. Marley gasps as Josh’s other hand clamps onto the back of his neck, holding him down so Josh can buck his hips up. Josh’s cock slides along his thigh, up onto his hip, and Marley angles them down to trap the rut.

The carpet’s concrete compared to the bean bag as Josh flips them. "What was that about not being a fighter, Fromeyer?"

A scoff pants into his neck as Josh tucks in to nip. "Scud, like stud, dammit. Dunno why you don’t just call me that."

"Because it’s stupid," Marley grunts as Josh picks up the pace.

They’re grinding like horny teens, kissing and pawing, but fuck it—Josh’s got work now, and it’s been a while. Probably will be, again, before they can do this again. Hopefully his hardass bosses don’t drug test.

Josh’s leaving a bigger damp spot on his thigh as he trembles and finishes. Marley’s on his heels, getting that band shirt dirty, he’ll get bitched at for that. But for now, he’s content to just let the other stoner lie on top of him. They’re trapping the mess, getting it over more of them, but fuck it. They’re high, and Marley sighs, and grabs for the joint that’s been left smoldering on the carpet. Landlord’s an asshole, anyway. Can deal with it when his lease is up.

Marley snatches his fingers back as a boot grinds the joint to nothing. He yelps, and Josh fumbles and swears. The unfazed face above them tracks Josh as he gets to his knees, no real shame as he tucks himself away, then to his feet, gesturing at their intruder but not kicking his ass. Knows him, apparently.

"B? The fuck, man?" Josh hisses. Yeah, he knows him.

Marley isn’t as brave, and his high tanks as he blushes and tries to make it look like he doesn’t have white striping his thigh, smearing his hip. He stuffs himself away, at least, in time for the black dude to finally look at him.

"Uh, hi." And because Marley vaguely remembers manners, he points to his fridge: "Pretzels?"

Which feels wrong to ask this guy, somehow. Doesn’t fit with the vibe the room’s got now. He’s still a little high.

B ignores him, and Marley can’t help but frown when he sees Josh is packing up his shit, zipping his bag and jamming his boots on. He’d hoped they’d have a little more time. Not be interrupted, at least.

"You said you were grabbing provisions," B tells Josh flatly.

It doesn’t sit right with Marley. He doesn’t talk... normally. Too formal. But Josh is used to it, doesn’t say anything except, "Yeah, had a detour. Relax, man."

"Oh, I’m a detour," Marley scoffs, poking at the remains of the joint as B steps off to look out the kitchen window. Well, the everything window, since it’s a studio. Joint’s done for, and Marley sighs. His fun’s over, anyway.

"We’re already late."

"Yeah, yeah, I—Jesus." Josh is in front of Marley, then, as he finally clambers to his feet. That catches him off guard. So does the nudge Josh gives him. "Should be back in a few months."

"Months? Shit, what kinda job is this, dude?"

"Classified," comes from the door.

Josh rolls his eyes. "Tell Davey to have more of that good shit grown, yeah?"

"Only if you bring better snacks," Marley negotiates. Chips had been salt and vinegar. Gross, even if he’s too high to care much about flavor.

"Deal."

The quick peck Josh sneaks when he headbutts him surprises Marley, and then Josh is gone, scruffy and flushed and clomping down the stairwell outside the door with his bag. Too soon, too fast, Marley thinks. Would’ve been nice if they could figure out what the DVD was about.

Not as fast as B, lunging back into the room when he looks like he’s going to leave—no, checking to make sure Josh’s gone—and hurling Marley back against his bookshelf. It doesn’t hold a lot of books, more just junk, and an empty turtle shell clatters to the floor.

"Name?" B asks, and his coat twitches, and—holy fucking shit, that’s a big knife, and Marley tells him so. "It’s a sword. Name," B says with the weird patience of someone who doesn’t have time but knows he’s dealing with someone who’s high, and forcing him to hurry won’t do any good.

"Marley." The knife, the sword, taps his shoulder. "Jacobs. Wait, what—"

The hand pinning him goes for his face, his mouth, and Marley winces as his lip’s stretched down. B lets it curl back up just as fast, leaving behind the taste of fake leather, then he’s tilting Marley’s head to the side. Marley wants to tell him to maybe take the shades off first, but then he remembers this guy has a sword. He’s learned a thing or two from buying weed and a little bit of harder stuff. Don’t piss off the guy with the sword isn’t a rule verbatim, but it’s a cousin to don’t get into shit with Stevie, who’s known to carry.

"How do you know Scud?"

Josh, Marley thinks. "Uh, friends. High school, kind of." At B’s head cock, he hurries, "Well, Josh dropped out. We still hung out after."

"Why don’t you call him Scud?"

Jesus, who is this guy? "Not his name," Marley shrugs. "I’unno, I... like it better."

"And you hang out."

Marley says, "Yeah," even though he doesn’t think he’s being asked.

B’s tone suggests he knows what hanging out implies. Marley nods, and B steps off him. For a beat, there’s nothing but the background noise of the TV, what’s a funny pastime for them flat-out embarrassing now. Doesn’t matter that it’s not in English, the yellow-haired boy’s voice is grating, annoying to both the other characters and the audience. Chanting something about a hokage, whatever that is. Soup looks good, though.

The stack of junk over the fridge crinkles as B takes something—a bag of pretzels.

"Hey, what..." Marley trails off, expecting to be ignored as B heads for the door, this time for real, Marley thinks. But he pauses. Waits. "Is Josh okay? He got this job after he got jumped at some festival, I dunno if you knew. But he’s... what kind of job is this?"

Because it clicks. B: this is Josh’s boss. Josh sure bitched about him often enough. Not to mention: provisions, running late, classified.

"Like I said," is all B gives, which, yeah.

But Marley tries anyway. Steps forward, kicks his turtle shell by accident. It skitters further than it ought to, bumps the heel of a clunky boot. "Look, just..." I don’t know what the fuck happened, but is he suicidal? Is this some bullshit he took up to off himself? Is he in too deep with something? Mob? Cartel? "... is he gonna be alright? Is he gonna come back?"

The boots turn. A gloved hand picks up the shell, and then B’s pushing it into Marley’s hands. It’s not gentle, but he think it tries to be. "He’s useful."

That sounds... less than great, but Marley takes it. How many teachers bitched at Josh for goofing off, skipping classes, not being anything but a waste of space?

"Yeah," Marley says, "okay."

- - -

In the morning he wakes up hungover, the TV screen on a purple input screen, the DVD player fried because his soda must’ve fallen off the fridge and spilled. Marley wants to just turn over and go back to sleep on his futon, but blue and red are thrown up on the walls, cops—and Marley’s wide awake and checking that his stashes are hidden like any good stoner.

There’s a body bag being rolled out of the lobby, he sees, with his face pressed up to his window. When he pokes his head out to see if his neighbors know anything, one tells him it was the landlord being carted off. Shot point-blank, and Marley cringes at that. Sure, he was a strict asshole (only available at night, no food in the lobby, no black lights in the apartments) but that’s just... rough.

Well. Hopefully Josh doesn’t have to deal with that kind of violence, wherever his job takes him. Marley entertains the idea that maybe he’s with the CIA. Nah, not Josh, who treated Rage Against the Machine like commandments when they were in high school, who rolled his eyes at army recruiters, who laughed as they got their asses chased by truancy officers.

He’d just as likely be running around with monsters, Marley snorts, and rips off a chunk of stale donut and goes back to bed.

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 1: La Seine no Hoshi (1975)

1. Introduction

Well, dear reader, here it is. My first ever official review. And, as promised, this is one of the pieces of Frev media that you have likely never heard of before.

So, without further ado, sit down, relax, grab drinks and snacks and allow me to tell you about an anime called “La Seine no Hoshi” (The Star of the Seine).

“La Seine no Hoshi” is a children’s anime series made by Studio Sunrise. It consists of 39 episodes and was originally broadcast in Japan from April 4th to December 26th of 1975.

Unlike its more famous contemporary, a manga called “Rose of Versailles” that had begun being released in 1972 and is considered a classic to this day, “La Seine no Hoshi” has stayed relatively obscure both in the world of anime and among other Frev pop culture.

Personally, the only reason why I found out about its existence was the fact that I actively seek out everything Frev-related and I just happened to stumble upon the title on an anime forum several years ago.

So far, the anime has been dubbed into Italian, French, German and Korean but there is no English or even Spanish dub so, unfortunately, people who do not speak fluent Japanese or any other aforementioned language are out of luck ( if anyone decides to make a fandub of the series, call me). That being said, the series is readily available in dubs and the original version on YouTube, which is where I ended up watching it. The French dub calls the anime “La Tulipe Noire” (The Black Tulip), which could be an homage to the movie with the same name that takes place in the same time period.

Unfortunately, while I do speak Japanese well enough to maintain a basic conversation and interact with people in casual daily situations, I’m far from fluent in the language so the version I watched was the French dub, seeing as I am majoring in French.

So, with all of this info in mind, let’s find out what the story is about and proceed to the actual review.

2. The Summary

(Note: Names of the characters in the French dub and the original version differ so I will use names from the former since that’s what I watched)

The story of “La Seine no Hoshi” revolves around a 15-year old girl called Mathilde Pasquier - a daughter of two Parisian florists who helps her parents run their flower shop and has a generally happy life.

But things begin to change when Comte de Vaudreuil, an elderly Parisian noble to whom Mathilde delivers flowers in the second episode, takes her under his wing and starts teaching her fencing for an unknown reason and generally seems to know more about her than he lets on.

Little does Mathilde know, those fencing lessons will end up coming in handy sooner than she expected. When her parents are killed by corrupt nobles, the girl teams up with Comte de Vaudreuil’s son, François, to fight against corruption as heroes of the people, all while the revolution keeps drawing near day by day and tensions in the city are at an all time high.

This is the gist of the story, dear readers, so with that out of the way, here’s the actual review:

3. The Story

Honestly, I kind of like the plot. It has a certain charm to it, like an old swashbuckling novel, of which I’ve read a lot as a kid.

The narrative of a “hero of the common folk” has been a staple in literature for centuries so some might consider the premise to be unoriginal, but I personally like this narrative more than “champion of the rich” (Looking at you, Scarlet Pimpernel) because, historically, it really was a difficult time for commoners and when times are hard people tend to need such heroes the most.

People need hope, so it’s no surprise that Mathilde and François (who already moonlights as a folk hero, The Black Tulip) become living legends thanks to their escapades.

Interestingly enough, the series also subverts a common trope of a hero seeking revenge for the death of his family. Mathilde is deeply affected by the death of her parents but she doesn’t actively seek revenge. Instead, this tragedy makes the fight and the upcoming revolution a personal matter to her and motivates her to fight corruption because she is not the only person who ended up on its receiving end.

The pacing is generally pretty good but I do wish there were less filler episodes and more of the overarching story that’s dedicated to the secret that Comte de Vaudreuil and Mathilde’s parents seem to be hiding from her and maybe it would be better if the secret in question was revealed to the audience a bit later than episode 7 or so.

However, revealing the twist early on is still an interesting narrative choice because then the main question is not what the secret itself is but rather when and how Mathilde will find out and how she will react, not to mention how it will affect the story.

That being said, even the filler episodes do drive home the point that a hero like Mathilde is needed, that nobles are generally corrupt and that something needs to change. Plus, those episodes were still enjoyable and entertaining enough for me to keep watching, which is good because usually I don’t like filler episodes much and it’s pretty easy to make them too boring.

Unfortunately, the show is affected by the common trope of the characters not growing up but I don’t usually mind that much. It also has the cliché of heroes being unrecognizable in costumes and masks, but that’s a bit of a staple in the superhero stories even today so it’s not that bothersome.

4. The Characters

It was admittedly pretty rare for a children’s show to have characters who were fleshed out enough to seem realistic and flawed, but I think this series gives its characters more development than most shows for kids did at the time.

I especially like Mathilde as a character. Sure, at first glance she seems like a typical Nice Pretty Ordinary Girl ™️ but that was a part of the appeal for me.

I am a strong believer in that a character does not need to be a blank slate or a troubled jerk to be interesting and Mathilde is neither of the above. She is essentially an ordinary girl with her own life, family, friends, personality and dreams and, unfortunately, all of that is taken away from her when her parents are killed.

Her initial reluctance to participate in the revolution is also pretty realistic as she is still trying to live her own life in peace and she made a promise to her parents to stay safe so there’s that too.

I really like the fact that the show did not give her magic powers and that she was not immediately good at fencing. François does remark that her fencing is not bad for a beginner but in those same episodes she is clearly shown making mistakes and it takes her time to upgrade from essentially François’s assistant in the heroic shenanigans to a teammate he can rely on and sees as an equal. Heck, later there’s a moment when Mathilde saves François, which is a nice tidbit of her development.

Mathilde also doesn’t have any romantic subplots, which is really rare for a female lead.

She has a childhood friend, Florent, but the two are not close romantically and they even begin to drift apart somewhat once Florent becomes invested in the revolution. François de Vaudreuil does not qualify for a love interest either - his father does take Mathilde in and adopts her after her parents are killed so François is more of an older brother than anything else.

Now, I’m not saying that romance is necessarily a bad thing but I do think that not having them is refreshing than shoehorning a romance into a story that’s not even about it. Plus most kids don’t care that much for romance to begin with so I’d say that the show only benefits from the creative decision of not setting Mathilde up with anyone.

Another interesting narrative choice I’d like to point out is the nearly complete absence of historical characters, like the revolutionaries. They do not make an appearance at all, save for Saint-Just’s cameo in one of the last episodes and, fortunately, he doesn’t get demonized. Instead, the revolutionary ideas are represented by Florent, who even joins the Jacobin Club during the story and is the one who tries to get Mathilde to become a revolutionary. Other real people, like young Napoleon and Mozart, do appear but they are also cameo characters, which does not count.

Marie-Antoinette and Louis XVI are exceptions to the rule.

(Spoiler alert!)

Marie-Antoinette is portrayed as kind of spoiled and out of touch. Her spending habits get touched on too but she is not a malicious person at heart. She is simply flawed. She becomes especially important to the story later on when Mathilde finds out the secret that has been hidden from her for her entire life.

As it turns out, Marie- Antoinette, the same queen Mathilde hated so much, is the girl’s older half-sister and Mathilde is an illegitimate daughter of the Austrian king and an opera singer, given to a childless couple of florists to be raised in secret so that her identity can be protected.

The way Marie-Antoinette and Mathilde are related and their further interactions end up providing an interesting inner conflict for Mathilde as now she needs to reconcile this relationship with her sister and her hatred for the corruption filling Versailles.

The characters are not actively glorified or demonized for the most part and each side has a fair share of sympathetic characters but the anime doesn’t shy away from showing the dark sides of the revolution either, unlike some other shows that tackle history (*cough* Liberty’s Kids comes to mind *cough*).

All in all, pretty interesting characters and the way they develop is quite realistic too, even if they could’ve been more fleshed out in my opinion.

5. The Voice Acting

Pretty solid. No real complaints here. I’d say that the dub actors did a good job.

6. The Setting

I really like the pastel and simple color scheme of Paris and its contrast with the brighter palette of Versailles. It really drives home the contrast between these two worlds.

The character designs are pretty realistic, simple and pleasant to watch. No eyesores like neon colors and overly cutesy anime girls with giant tiddies here and that’s a big plus in my book.

7. The Conclusion

Like I said, the show is not available in English and those who are able to watch it might find it a bit cliché but, while it’s definitely not perfect. I actually quite like it for its interesting concept, fairly realistic characters and a complex view of the French Revolution. I can definitely recommend this show, if only to see what it’s all about.

Some people might find this show too childish and idealistic, but I’m not one of them.

I’m almost 21 but I still enjoy cartoons and I’m fairly idealistic because cynicism and nihilism do not equal maturity and, if not for the “silly” idealism, Frev itself wouldn’t happen so I think shows like that are necessary too, even if it’s just for escapism.

If you’re interested and want to check it out, more power to you.

Anyway, thank you for attending the first ever official meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Second meeting is coming soon so stay tuned for updates.

Have a good day, Citizens! I love you!

- Citizen Green Pixel

[transclover]

So for that Penny sisters AU what are her siblings names and why are some appear the way they look? Seriously the one in the high-tech chair/throne looks like a friendly Penny-themed Ultron. Are there personalities exactly the same as Penny or do they very wildly?

This is Quarter:

She was the first prototype and uses a gravity dust powered wheelchair to move around! Her aura didn't properly 'latch on' to the synthetic nerve endings in her legs. At her point in the project, they were just seeing if they could create synthetic aura, the actual "disguised as human" thing wouldn't come until later. Upon first meeting her, you would notice her formal, calm speech and manner. She calmly debates specific word usage with her siblings; "the connotation of 'scary' is different from the connotation of 'horrifying', and it wasn't 'horrifying', Nickel, it was 'scary'-". Though he was leading the project, Pietro only took her in after she had been living at the house of another pair of scientists on the project for some time, who meant well but didn't really understand she was a full, autonomous person. They'd leave her alone in the house without entertainment for hours at a time, and so she turned to something she could access anywhere: the Internet. She loves video games, and even played a team based mmorpg with someone called the_dragon_motorcyclist for almost a full year! She is fluent in remnant memes, but all of her references to them are just subtle enough that you question if she Knows she's referencing something. (She does. She does know)

This is Dime:

She's the second prototype, and their aura attached correctly! They have the first prototype of the floating array. But, when asked to fight Grimm, they directly refused. They were the first to unlock their semblance, (which I'll reveal later :3c) and because of overcorrection from the Quarter experiment, she has more of Pietro's aura than any of the other siblings. She is caring and softspoken, and uses violence as only a last resort.

This is Nickel:

She's the third prototype, and was expected to be the last. They'd perfected the synthetic skin technology, and implemented coding that made her want to keep her identity as a robot a secret. This manifested in an acute paranoia around appearing 'normal' and being 'found out', and a connection error in her eyes (which were prosthetics intended for humans and not regular robotic eyes) meant she experiences visual hallucinations. She's generally shy, but can be explosive if she thinks someone is trying to 'find her out'.

As for the overall look, I tried to model the robotics style after both Penny's robo legs and general Atlas style tech and the robotic soldiers they use:

I encorporated the smoother, curve-focused design for Penny, and tried to keep the visible segmentation and limited color palette of other Atlas tech.

[dustedmagazine]

Big Thief — Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You (4AD)

Photograph by Jessica Viscius

Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You by Big Thief

Big Thief’s new album, their fifth, eases into view with a tune called “Change.” It’s a woozy three-chord shuffle, the kind of song you can imagine being sung around a campfire, its well-worn truths about the futility of trying to keep things the same offering a degree of solace. The song acts as something of a mission statement for this double album, prepping the listener to expect the unexpected. Named after a lyric from Adrianne Lenker’s solo song “Anything,” Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You deftly touches down in the band’s usual folk-rock territory, while also exploring a new terrain of sounds and production styles that broaden their musical palette. Don’t panic, though; Big Thief hasn’t gone synth-pop. Instead, DNWMIBIY is both a consolidation of what’s made the band’s previous albums so compelling, and offers a natural next step in the evolution of their writing and arranging talents.

The majority of the album’s opening third will already be familiar to anyone who’s been keeping up with the band’s release schedule during the second half of 2021. The first surprising gear shift comes immediately after “Change” as “Time Escaping” pairs a metallic clanging riff on prepared acoustic guitar with James Krivchenia’s slamming drum beat. Then, on side B of the album’s four sides, the band takes its most striking left turn. After the joyous, swirling vortex of single “Little Things” comes the brief, minimal “Heavy Bend,” which brings to mind Four Tet’s Pause with its combination of crisp, compressed beats and harp-like nylon-string guitar. “Flower of Blood” and “Blurred View” draw the first half of the album to an uneasy close with murky, early 4AD-style tones. It suits Big Thief well, and adds a layer of mystique to Lenker’s otherwise clearly enunciated vocal performances. 

Elsewhere, the title track and “Simulation Swarm” evoke the crystalline beauty of 2019’s U.F.O.F. “Simulation Swarm” in particular is stunning, and stands among the band’s finest songs to date. The band generates spine-tingling tension between Lenker’s open-tuned arpeggios, Max Oleartchik’s sliding bass runs high up the neck, and an overdriven guitar break that ricochets out of the speakers. Buck Meek’s plaintive harmony vocals come to the fore on “Certainty” and “12,000 Lines,” and his wantonly oblique lead guitar wanders all over the loose, jammy “Love Love Love.” Twain’s Mat Davidson brings old-timey fiddle and backing vocals to rambling country hoe-downs “Spud Infinity,” “Red Moon” and “Blue Lightning.” And then there are welcome moments of repose, as Lenker goes it alone on “Promise is a Pendulum” and “The Only Place,” tracing out stark vocal takes over strident fingerpicked guitar. 

The most surprising aspect of DNWMIBIY is that for a double album, the quality control is high and the sequencing is especially effective. It’s also startling to learn that the band has another 25 songs from these sessions waiting in the wings (fingers crossed we get to hear at least some of them before the year is out). In the meantime, DNWMIBIY is the first album to join my best of 2022 list. 

Tim Clarke