#ReNoir Comics

[theknucklehead]

Here are some of Parasoul's alts.

Fluttershy from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Daphne Blake from Scooby-Doo

Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Jean Grey (Phoenix) from X-Men

Poison Ivy from Batman

Kula Diamond from The King of Fighters

Justin Bailey code from Metroid

[rayopuu]

these dummies

[thebuhonerodazorrow]

[felicianacariocapistoles]

Crappy meme I made cause a friend I got into MNT Gaiden said it would be funny if Renoir's face was on it.

[pascalcampion]

Auguste Renoir

1841-1919

I’d be curious  to ask Renoir  if he thought he mastered what he did. I love his work.yet, I see unresolved areas in his paintings. Some paintings are tighter, others are looser. art books would say he  chose to paint this way. I believed that. I believed that artist needed to be kung fu masters of the brush, that they had a ten step plan for every dab. But now I realize Renoir, Monet, Degas, all of them were much more like any of us. They tried,  they experimented. They flubbed their eyes and redid them. They worked fast to stop them from overthinking. They were impatient at times . They wandered and lost themselves and came back. Like a lot of us, they were passionate about their explorations. They were probably proud of some of their work and disdainful of others. And these also hang in museums. Renoir, out of all the Impressionists, holds a special place in my life. I was a kid then and interested in comics. My step Dad, Guy ( another great unsung hero I should make a post about) suggested I look at classic paintings, work on drawing crowds.  That’s life he would say. Pointing at this weird drawing of a bunch of people hanging around, dancing.  I remember looking at this painting with my ten year old eyes and mind and noticing the complete absence of muscles, capes, drama and word balloons. I instantly classified it as poorly drawn art.

I'm older, slower now but wiser. Looking back, I see richness reached through effort. An effort Renoir wasn’t always capable of doing.  

I am not even sure he knew where he was going before he got there and eventually, wasn’t able to make that journey.

He turned toward the nudes he would do toward the later part of his life, but the curious, deliberate energy powering his use of color, tangraming them into fields of flowers, boaters on an island or dappled lit ladies was gone.

I like thinking of Renoir this way because I understand the master we see only appeared in moments. Every one of us is a Renoir in a way. We work with  abandon hoping to get somewhere.

When we do, we are proud but not happy because our happiness comes from the doing, not the result.

#AugusteRenoir

AugusteRenoir

[mimisplace]

do you ever think about aziracrow and how they've literally been with each other since the very beginning? they probably held hands while dancing at a renaissance ball, helped rebuilding rome when it burned down, sat with patroclus and listened to achilles playing his lyre, they admired the egyptians building the pyramids, they posed for a painting by matisse - or maybe renoir, they high-fived when they contributed in creating the internet, they shared the first published comic, they kissed at the inauguration of the tour eiffel.

imagine being with someone since, and for, literal eternity and never getting tired of them, only loving them more and more and more as time passes by 🥹

[strangestcase]

Not sure if you've ever made a post like this/someone has already asked this and you've answered but I was wondering if you had a list of J&H adaptions (of any kind and as well as other fans making things that are just online stuff rather than big professional things) that you really like and think people should get into if they haven't really explored or even know of just yet? I'm curious because I've only branched out a little bit and got some stuff that was fairly. Meh.

I have made a few posts about the matter but! I’ll gladly repeat myself.

the trick with finding good J&H adaptations is to forget about 1:1 plot accuracy and instead focus on theme accuracy. You’ll be pleasantly surprised to discover a lot of adaptations (including crossovers and pastiches) understand the book and what it’s getting at.

Here’s my personal list of recommendations:

-MazM Jekyll and Hyde: a Korean visual novel that adapts the book to a T. The main timeline (chapters 1-8) are free to play, but chapters 9-10 and a few other tidbits are very cheap. Since it’s styled like an RPG, you can talk to NPCs that will give you some insight in the historical and cultural context of the novella. It has a spin-off game called Hyde and Seek in which Hyde is one of the antagonists, if you’re interested.

-Le Testament du Docteur Cordelier aka The Doctor’s Horrible Experiment: originally released as a TV movie in 1959 but later released in cinemas, this Jean Renoir production tightly follows the book plot with very small changes. The biggest change is that the story is set in 1950s Paris rather than 1880s England, with all the characters having different names. It has a budget of five dollars and a shoestring but it’s very well written and well acted, with a professional mime playing Jekyll and Hyde. My friend @nemeyuko has a copy with English subtitles. WARNING: there is a rape scene near the end.

-I, Monster: a 1971 Amicus production (basically a knockoff Hammer movie) with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing as the leads. Some character’s names and events are changed, but the plot is very much recognizable as a Jekyll and Hyde adaptation. The setting is also changed to the Edwardian period. This adaptation focuses on the psychological element of the story, including overt references to Freud and modern psychoanalysis, and putting the spotlight on Jekyll’s addiction to the serum.

-The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: 2003 Norrington movie that has almost nothing to do with the comics it was adapting from, but it’s considered more enjoyable by most people since it isn’t as dark and gritty. I specially recommend the movie for its take on Jekyll/Hyde, since it doesn’t shy away from the addiction angle. Hyde is entirely done with practical effects. The movie novelization is available in the Internet Archive, and it has a bit more focus on Hyde.

-Jekyll and Hyde at the Old Vic: a dance adaptation that reimagines Jekyll as a dorky botanist in 1950s England. It doesn’t have any dialogue and it’s mostly about an angsty love story but I really liked it (basically imagine Jekyll and Hyde meets Little Shop Of Horrors, and I’m not exaggerating!). It was available for free on YouTube a while ago but it’s been taken down- if anybody has any recordings let me know!

I have a rather lengthy list of adaptations I’m watching on YouTube, a lot of which I haven’t even started yet (and a lot of which aren’t particularly worthwhile) but here’s a little documentary and a couple of funny sketches.

[thelastofthebookworms]

I could only put 9 names here so I tried not to include neo-impressionist and post-impressionist artists here.

More polls about art (Van Gogh paintings, Monet paintings...), indie comics, literature etc on my pinned post.

[tartetasin]

slowly making my way through these designs for my project … apologies for the unpolished look! ramblings below;

—

I’m admittedly embarrassed about sharing these so soon!! uploads have been slow while i’m getting a feel for these designs and writing. Charlotte is pretty well-defined in my head, the “belle of misfortune” archetype is one i’ve been familiar and enjoy a ton, but I haven’t dabbled much in an openly antagonist char as Morning Star, despite wanting so.

His appearance is pretty funny, right? he’s an old existence from Hell themed after the scariest task of being new to retail… answering phone calls, oooo… 👻 I’m worried that he might be tad harsh, but I hope he manages to leave an impression! even if this is his “pocket” form to recruit the deceased.

Charlotte is based on a painting by Renoir, “L’avant-scéne” with colors picked from “Portrait of the Dancer” by Alexej Von Jawlensky. She’s a literal ghost stuck in the past!

Morning Star’s title borrows from Der Schauspieldirektor, the comic singspiel by Mozart.

—

[untilthenextencore]

"Nights To Remember Ch. 3: Bright Lights, Big City, Dark Sylph, Dark Lord~..."

~

~

Bright lights, big city. Taillights & headlights. Children of the sun. Suntanned skin & brown bottled beer. And a curvy, dusky skinned sylph a bit too dressy for such casual surroundings heading into the blues pumping nightclub. Cutting a swath through the milling crowd. Bathed in a pinkish glow from the neon curved lights announcing to the world the humble haven at which they, along with Robert & co had found themselves: The Chuco.

A reference to the Pachucos, zoot suiters that a lot of its denizens were birthed to or had otherwise in their family.

The first teddy boys in a way, Robert thought, right down to the flashy clothes & slicked back hair. Some of the kids still sported that "greaser" aka teddy boy look. Though Robert knew well enough to steer away from the former term & used the latter. He recognized the look anyway. Right down to the cuffed jeans & white t-shirts with the rolled up sleeves that had the cigarette packets & matchbook tucked inside.

He had attempted such a look in his youth. In those heady early days. When rock'n'roll first shook him, and blues first seduced him away. Astray.

Astray.

Astray is apparently how he continued to stay. How else would he find himself here? At a small nightclub away from the rest. Away from all others. But Magnet.

And her.

Magnet he saw chatting up a pretty, petite young thing against a nearby wall.

That just left him. And her. And about a few tens of other kids around them. But in his mind they all but disappeared. All blurring into a Renoir like smudgy frame for his gaze. Myopic as ever. Single-minded. Laser focused. His view. His vision. The vision.

Her.

Her.

Her.

She was bathed in light. A pink light. Blushing violet pink. The shade was a near perfect match to the signage outside. It lit her & everyone else in the room. Making them look like the denizens of one of those pulpy romance comics. All dark features & strawberry light. All dark features except for him. Which, despite his better nature, only served to have him further feel like the protagonist in one of those pulpy romances.

All dark features. And strawberry light. All he saw then was dark features & a figure lit by strawberry light. From the club's tinted lighting, yes. From the rose colored glasses Robert always seemed to sport- especially regarding her - also yes. But also from within.

She lit up.

She came alive here.

She was incandescent.

Her eyes sparkled. Glittered. Shone really. Her mask of previously remote features now fully removed if not shattered. Now her lips curved in the proudest gleaming grin.

She raised her arms in exultation, releasing a cry of exultation from deep within. One which ended up being a cry of call and response. As many around her responded with a similar cry in return.

Thankfully she was far enough ahead - while of course still remaining well in Robert's sight - that no one around them let out any other screams at Robert's striding his 6 foot, blonde, white, English country boy self inside.

Indeed he saw some glimmers of recognition, disbelief, then outright confusion. He could read their features like a book. A silent movie at play before him.

Is it him?

It is!

Why the fuck would he be here?

There's no way!

Little did they know.

There was a way.

One way.

Her.

Her.

Her.

Robert took a beer Magnet gave him in passing. He then noted with his first sip, that Magnet as he passed, was currently flitting on his way to another girl still with the first in tow. Three's company. His kinda company clearly. Clearly hopeful that a threesome was on the way.

Classic Magnet.

Upon taking this beer, Robert raised it to those eyes of recognition. A toast. In return, he pressed a finger to his lips & gave a conspiratorial smile. Thankfully, miraculously, this seemed to be enough to quell any tongues that might've been set a-wag by his arrival. Smiles were returned. Nods & cheers with their drinks in return. A few blown kisses by some young lovelies.

And it was then that even though Robert found his "cover blown," so to speak, he found himself in the clear.

With his way now clear, Robert made his way to Dahlia. She had hugged a few old friends in warm, enthusiastic greeting, chattering animatedly in a quick catch-up. Catching them as she was arriving & they were leaving. After waving goodbye, she then strolled over to the bar, picking up a beer & taking a swig herself as her bent elbow rested on the bartop she leaned back into.

As Robert approached, the soundtrack of sorts, incidental music, continued to tease him in a way that seemed anything but incidental, accidental, or by happenstance. This time, it was Junior Walker & his All Stars.

"What does it take…

(What does it take)...

To win your love for me?...

(To win your love for me)...

How can I make…

(How can I make)...

This dream come true for me…"

He reached out in what seemed like slow motion. Reaching for the vision in raspberry light. Strawberry light. A brilliant smile that seared itself into his mind at first glance. A lyrical laugh that rang out above the clinking beer bottles & trickled over him like the lightest, sweetest waterfall. And silken, tawny skin that burned him alive simultaneously as his fingers slid across her velvet soft hand. The one without the ring.

Her eyes cut over to him. Her gaze at first flickered in confusion before alighting in recognition, smile back to full strength. She mimicked the song then playing in her greeting.

"Hello, stranger." She then added yet another one of her light, playful teases. "Long time no see." Clinking bottles with him, she continued. "I was wondering when you were gonna amble your way in."

"Ah…"

For once in his life, Robert struggled for a snappy line.

So he scrambled for the closest thing.

A grin curved his lips, easier than he felt inside. "Well I can't very well leave you to the wolves now can I?" His delivery wasn't as smooth as he'd have liked, alas. His voice shook slightly. Hopefully she just took that for barely checked laughter.

As it turned out, she took it in stride. It barely checked. It barely registered.

"Wolves?" Dahlia tossed her head back in a laugh of her own. "What wolves?" Motioning to all that was around them, she stated proudly. "This? This is family! We're among family here, Planty! Don't you see? Can't you tell? We're home!"

Home.

Home indeed.

For her.

Dahlia, the girl from East LA. Hometown girl. Local girl made good. Just as her historian father Alberto Dominguez-Alvarez was a local man made good. His books and scholarly lectures and presentations were full of their glory days, both past & present.

Children of the sun.

Chucos.

Chicanos.

He'd caught one of those presentations & lectures in Birmingham in his Pre-Zeppelin days. That's where he got Alberto's books. That's where he got a primer on Mexican culture. Pre-Columbian & current. On Mexican youth. Past & present. On her.

Her father had used her pictures as an example - if a rather self-indulgent one - of modern Mexicanidad. Mentioning her then current early enrollment in UCLA.

There was a collage of pictures of her with her acceptance letter. In a brown beret uniform in East LA where they hailed from. In her Quince dress from the society page. In a button down & jeans in the slightly more upmarket part of LA the family had then moved to. In a classic, demure dress in Mexico. Using her as an example of possibility, of accomplishment, of their multifacetedness. All in one.

Later, he admitted when questioned that yes, she had been in the Sunset Strip curfew protests that some had termed riots. But he stressed that they were protests. And social engagement, community engagement was not a crime and should not be considered a crime due to a difference in melanin between the protestors themselves or between them & those they were protesting against. A knowing reference to the Civil Rights Movement.

Neither Alberto nor Robert had no idea how prescient those words were. He would later. Later. Later when Dahlia showed pictures of both herself & her father in the East LA walkouts, backing up people back home. Backing up friends. Backing up family.

And again at the Chicano Moratorium.

One of the few Zeppelin gigs she had missed she missed on purpose, flying into LA to take part while they did a gig. She headed back to East LA where her family had moved back to by then. Ready to support. To protest. To be heard. The pics she later showed them showed them looking hopeful. Proud. Expectant.

That was before, due to unforseen circumstances, things went left that day. Dark. Deadly. Black.

As soon as he heard, Pagey was on the phone. Peter too. As soon as he heard from Dahlia herself - thankfully safe at home & able to take the call - that she & her family were fine, Pagey had her fly back out to meet them on their next stop on the next available flight. Pagey had her in his arms. Locked in his room with him. Grant assigned them - her really - a bodyguard, under his, Jimmy's & honestly everyone's agreement.

Saying another silent prayer for Ruben Salazar, the one casualty that day, and any others affected, Robert decided to shake the darkness from his mind.

He allowed himself to be pulled back into the light.

Pink light.

Raspberry light.

Strawberry light.

Warm light.

Her light.

He saw his teen self in his mind's eye as he was then at the presentation. Gawking at the pictures. She was bleeding beautiful. Two years younger than him. Where did they make birds like that? Brains and beauty. Dusky skinned determination. Heaven-sent & hip as hell. LA? East LA? Right then and there, he pledged that if he ever made it to the States, he had to go there, wherever that was. Los Angeles, he knew. How far east he'd have to go, he didn't.

What he also didn't know at that time - not until much later - was just how close just such a girl was to him then. Not just such a girl. That girl exactly. For the time was spring 1967, and not only was Alberto in England.

But so was Dahlia.

Alberto, of course, was lecturing Robert & others in the north in Birmingham.

Meanwhile, Dahlia at the time - as he would later find out - was staying southward in London.

She had left the hotel room her father had gotten her, leaving her to study for a paper she was going to do on English History as he traveled about. The hotel room then stood mostly empty. Instead, she saw fit to stay with another attendee of one of her father's lectures that he'd given in London before coming up north.

A friend.

A penpal.

An on again off again budding potential love & beau.

On Shooter's Hill.

In Pangbourne.

With one who would later - now - be his songwriting partner & close friend.

Yes.

With one James Patrick Page.

There she was holeing up with him. Hitting up his local haunts with him. Scotch of St. James in between her studies. Granny Takes a Trip between corrections of one draft's grammar most likely. Giving herself to him for the first time. First of many. First of many on that trip he figured as well. Knowing Pagey. In the car if he had one. In the boat. In the boathouse. Every bleeding where in the boathouse. Again knowing Pagey, Robert figured there was hardly a surface in the place, down to the couch he sat on that first day when he came down, that hadn't been so christened that time in '67.

Granny's, the Scotch, in bed (and other places) with a dusky, driven & foreign little brunette dish. All the places Robert could then only dream of being.

Now he had his dusky brunette by way of Maureen. But she was back home with the kids. And he'd had others since then. Plenty others. Many others. He even had several around him that day.

All his focus went to only one though.

One that was off limits.

Very decidedly off limits.

The one that was closest to him funny enough.

Or as Brenton Wood sang then.

"I run after you...

Like a fool would do...

But mama didn't raise no fool...

And I should know...

That baby you got it...

That's all I can say to you..."

Brenton even seemed to see in her what he did.

"You got soul, too much soul...

Foxy clothes, the cutest nose...

The greatest shape...

There's nothing fake about you...

Baby you got it..."

But when Brenton continued, Robert felt it once again hit too close for his liking.

"My friends say no can be...

You're not the girl for me..."

Bullseye!

Try as he might to distract himself with another sip of his beer, the next song was no better.

"Just pull them little strings...

And I'll sing you a song...

I'm your puppet...

Make me do right or make me do wrong...

I'm your puppet...

Treat me good and I'll do anything...

I'm just a puppet and you hold my string...

I'm your puppet...

Your walking, talking, kissing loving puppet...

I'm hanging on a string...

I'll do anything, love you 'n' kiss ya..."

"Here…" Dahlia snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked down. A peace offering. Another bottle of beer to replace his now drained one.

Another clink.

"Cheers." She locked eyes with him, pursed lips grinning behind her bottle.

"Why won't you...

Take a chance on me...

And let me show you...

How wonderful to love can really be...

I can love you for all eternity...

Take a chance on me..."

God damn it if it wasn't Brenton Wood again summing it all up again.

"Dahlia…" He breathed her name in more of a sigh than he wanted to allow at that point. Her name always sounded like a sigh. Always. From day one. From the first day he heard it. A sigh.  A dreamy sigh. To him. From others. And most importantly from him.

"What is it, Robert?" She slid her hand over his, giving a gentle squeeze again like she had in the car. "You feeling alright?" 

That voice.

That hand.

That silken skin.

That touch.

That tenderness.

A tenderness that was always so apparent in her.

A gentility amidst her all-encompassing warmth that ranged from the flickering of a flame, dancing & playful like the mirthful light that shone in her eyes to molten, incandescent, torrid & sizzling. It scorched him. Seared him. Searing him deep within. Burned him. Burned within him. Burned him inside out. Made him feel feverish.

And again, the song playing around them said it all.

"The touch of you (baby, baby, the touches from you)...

Is drivin' me out of my head, oh, boy (baby, baby, out of my head)...

What a touch from a little hand can do (can do)...

Especially coming from you…

Turn my life all around (all around)...

I can't seem to settle down…

Oh, baby…"

"Dahlia, I…" He started before he even knew what he was going to say.

Thankfully…

Mercifully…

He was cut off before he could figure out much more to say.

Both by a random lad in an awed hush. "Holy fuck! Now there's two of them, dude! Am I seeing things?"

But no…

He wasn't…

The lad wasn't seeing things…

Because there he stood in the doorway. All six feet of PreRaphaelitic glamour. A brooding Black Irish English stallion. The dragon. The "Dark Lord" himself.

Or as Dahlia gasped, trotting over to him excitedly.

"Baby!"

James Patrick Page.

Count on him to make his entrance to a song with a twangy guitar intro.

Of course he would.

Jimmy extended his arms, welcoming Dahlia in his embrace with a smile. He hugged her tight. Warmly. Protectively. He mumbled something to her to which Dahlia nodded. Pressing a kiss to her hair, her forehead & lifting her chin, then her lips, he claimed her. Sealing it with a kiss. Or three.

And as ever, Robert was left with the unintentional soundtrack summing it up for him.

"Love...

Love is strange...

Lot of people...

Take it for a game..."

~

Hope y'all enjoy~!...

As ever, this is forever under construction~...

[nexuschampion]

Just another day

@accioturtur

"Three Valentine's Days in. Not bad for a relationship that began at superspeed based on mutual murderous professions, hidden from everyone until it wasn't, interspecies at best, and by far the best thing to have ever happened to me."

"Happy Valentine's Day Mikey" she answered with a smile that brighted his entire day.

"Do you know that you mean more to mean than my entire comic book collection? More than my babies?"

"I'm sure your nunchucku are very offended" she laughed as he kissed her neck lovingly. "But yes, I know."

"I can't wait to go out. First time out in the world on the most romantic day of the year with my wifey? Best time ever."

"Everyday with you is the most romantic day of the year baby" Shadow was milling about the desk, piling various papers into piles to keep everything organized.

"You wound me. Today will be extra heavy on romance!!"

"Hmm. What have you got planned?"

"Dinner."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It's a lonely table, off in the back where we can be alone."

"Are you sure? Laying low has been working wonders for you."

"I'm sure. Going out to dinner with you on Valentine's has been one of the highlights of this whole thing. I literally woke up in the hospital after it was all said and done and thought, Ah ha! Finally we can go out on a proper Valentine's Day date!"

"I see you have your priorities straight."

"Always. I even know a spot nearby where we can have a quickie if you want."

"It's a too cold for a quickie!"

"I didn't say it was outside!"

"We don't have to do anything Mikey, I promise I don't mind. I just want you to be all right."

"Again with the wounding. This is the day of love, my love! As soon as you're ready we're going out for a day of good times only."

********************

The table was indeed lonely and quiet, which suited them both perfectly. He coudn't even see anyone else and it allowed him to snuggle up to her affectionately without distraction and she was free to do the same.

They were there for at least an hour, lingering with conversation that never seemed to run out or get old. After a few glasses of wine and a delightful three course meal they burst out laughing over the the fact that they would definitely rather be doing something else.

"Well we checked this box. Not nearly as great as I thought it would be but I had a damn nice time." He giggled.

"It was really nice Mikey" she laughed. "It's not exactly the center of the multiverse or any of the other wild things you've taken me to do but it was fun."

"I have fun every minute I'm with you."

"You are literally always with me Mikey."

"And I'm always having fun. Do you want to…" He was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He'd ignored it a few times, but when it rang for a 5th time within a couple of minutes he decided to check. He pulled it out and put it on speaker.

"Mikey. Shit about time! There is something really wrong here. One of them things, at least one, I think is headin' topside."

"Where?" Shadow asked.

"Still at dinner? We lost it not too far from there, a few blocks north. I think. Too big to get through a manhole but fuck it can probably just break through the damn street."

"A'ight. We're on it bro."

"That's not all Mike" Leo took the phone. "Something else is going on. Renoir and Donnie are acting strange. This isn't good. I'm going to go back and check on them. Raph will meet you topside. Call Casey. I'm calling in the Foot. I think we're going to need everyone."

Mikey hung up and stood, Shadow right behind him. He waited next to the table and grinned at her. "Maybe this is more like it. Care to do the honors?" He held out his arms.

It was hard to not simply run out the door, but dammit, it was Valentine's. Shadow reached up to unbutton his collar, then the rest of his shirt. There was always a few seconds to undress him, and it still felt like an hour's worth of foreplay. Once he was sufficiently undressed, a telltale sign to the public that there was trouble afoot, he kissed her. "I'll see you on the other side."

She took his clothes and set them on the seat of their table. "I don't like it when you say it that way."

"I'll see you when I get home from work?"

"I'll see you after you kick that things ass."

He tucked his phone into his belt, winked at her, and sprinted out of the restaurant. Shadow followed suit, starting that process of instructing people what to do and where to go in case a fight came nearby.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Tag people you'd like to get to know better!

Tagged by @furyeclipse (my dearest, thank you very much, you're a great being ^^)

Favorite Color: Blue. Seriously. Everything I own is blue, since I was a little kid. Everything my sister owns is pink, also since we were kids, and my mom always says we are that Renoir painting:

This one. The difference is that my sister is older, taller and brunette, while I'm smaller and blonde. In a way, we are like Dante and Vergil.

Recently we took a pic during the Guns n' Roses concert, and we're wearing the same coat - the difference? My sister's red, mine is dark teal :)

(also, she doesn't even enjoy videogames, she doesn't know anything about DMC, it's just a fine coincidence)

Favorite Flavor: Apple, peach and cinnamon. Not necessarily all together. My mom calls me the crazy cinnamon lady. Also, I'm forever in the search for the best apple pie in my city xD

Favorite Genres: Horror, thriller, sci-fi and fantasy, probably.

Favorite Music: I have NO idea. Mainly rock, I'd say, but I love everything, honestly. Except a very few genres (mostly from my country) that I really REALLY don't like.

Last Song: Zick Zack, by Rammstein

(I was showing my mom this video 'cause we were discussing plastic surgery and crazy people doing DIY fillers at home with no safety whatsoever and I said "hey, I got the perfect video that gets the overall idea of our conversation, hold on a minute")

ALSO it does get quite disturbing halfway through, so be warned ;)

Last WIP: The cyberpunk style book I'm writing, called Nyx Protocol. It's a provisory name, though T-T

Last Movie: Sound of Music. Yes, I know all the songs. Also, I used to dance with my sister alongside the movie when we were kids, she was Liesl and I was Rolffe. Thankfully, we never broke our furniture jumping around them :)

Currently Reading: Ramses, by Christian Jacq; Burnout Society, by Byung Chul-Han; and an old Astronomy book from the 70's I stole from my dad 'cause it's my new hobby \o/

Currently Watching: I don't watch many series 'cause I tend not to finish them. Last one I watched was The Sandman (mostly because I read the comics and didn't wanna miss it). I also tend to put on long youtube videos while I'm drawing to keep myself distracted - so disturbing things tier lists, horror tier lists... I've no idea why I do this to myself. When it becomes too much, I just watch beautiful stuff, like Sound of Music and such.

Working On: My book, Nyx Protocol, which I HOPE I'll finish by mid 2023; a Vergil x reader longfic called Nemesis; Shall Never Surrender requests; a mentoring art program my friend took me as her student for free so I can officially get into the industry; learning French and German on my own; finishing at least one of the many games I have in my list by mid 2023; trying not to burnout again because I tend to do a LOT of stuff at the same time to feel productive T-T

I tag: @princesssakurasylveon and anyone else who wants to be part of it!! I didn't tag more people 'cause I don't know if they'd feel annoyed by it, so... Yeah. Do feel tagged if you want to share a bit about yourself!! ^^

Also, my answers are a LOT longer than they should, I regret NOTHING

[thebuhonerodazorrow]

Gatti Vol 1

[byneddiedingo]

Ingrid Bergman and Mel Ferrer in Elena et les Hommes (Jean Renoir, 1956)

Cast: Ingrid Bergman, Jean Marais, Mel Ferrer, Jean Richard, Juliette Gréco, Pierre Bertin, Dora Doll, Frédéric Duvallès, Renaud Mary. Screenplay: Jean Renoir, Jean Serge. Cinematography: Claude Renoir. Production design: Jean André. Film editing: Boris Lewen. Music: Joseph Kosma.

Like French Cancan (1954) and The Golden Coach (1952), this is one of Jean Renoir's brightly Technicolored entertainments, with ravishing cinematography by his nephew, Claude Renoir, that recalls the rich colors of the paintings by Jean's father and Claude's grandfather, Pierre-Auguste Renoir. And like many of those paintings, the movie opens itself up to criticisms of possessing more style than substance. Elena et les Hommes, which was originally released in the United States under the title Paris Does Strange Things and now bears the title Elena and Her Men, is a giddy, somewhat brainless romp whose chief claim to our attention is that it was the first film Ingrid Bergman made after her break from Roberto Rossellini, who starred her in serious dramas in which she was put to extremes of emotional torment. Making Elena must have been an enormous relief for her, because it shows: She has never been more beautiful onscreen, wearing the opulent finery of 1880s Paris. She has also never been more lively or funny, throwing herself with complete abandon into the nonsense of the plot. It makes me regret that she did so few comedies: Only Indiscreet (Stanley Donen, 1958) and Cactus Flower (Gene Saks, 1969) gave her a real chance to lighten up the way Renoir's film does, although she showed her comic skills by parodying her more glum roles, especially the doughty missionary in The Inn of the Sixth Happiness (Mark Robson, 1958), in her Oscar-winning performance in Murder on the Orient Express (Sidney Lumet, 1974). It's too bad that her leading men in Elena aren't up to her standards: Jean Marais looks like he doesn't understand what's going on (which is understandable when so much is), while Mel Ferrer looks like he gets it but can't quite overcome the handicap of being Mel Ferrer when what is needed is a Cary Grant or a James Stewart to match Bergman's skills.

[anotheruserwithnoname]

I know buying comic art is nothing new or unusual, but the cover paintings used by companies like Gold Key in the 1960s and 70s were next-level. This is a link to a random example that is actually for sale. To heck with Renoir; give me the cover to UFO Flying Saucers #2 any day! LOL (I actually have a copy of this comic too!) Image is taken from the Grand Comics Database (comics.org):

[veronicacarminerenoire]

BEATRICE / SHE + IT / ADULT.

i attend farnsworth in the lethe stream and i'm kind of annoying about it. i'm also engaged to @karnacacore <3 our five year anniversary is coming up soonish :3 i post about him sometimesss. i like bladed weapons + league of legends + dishonored.

i'm kind of busy tbh and i do bite but not hard enough to cause lasting damage so shrug. if you need to get a hold of me bother irving about it probably

my bestie is currently dragging me through rereading the gay superhero comic (we're on the director and the watch rn) and rewatching the new supernatural so i post about that sometimes ig

notes below cut

i have a dissociative disorder if that means literally anything to you so don't expect me to be the best person in the entire world. i love alcohol and will drunk post. if you're being a cunt to me i will consider that full permission to be a cunt back and i am very "reactive" or whatever so take that as you will

my biggest comfort characters are jericho swain + oliver renoire + wyman (romantic) and kim kitsuragi / will graham / the watch (platonic)

yes my dad is on the coalition council. yes i hate him just as much as you do. don't bother me about him or ask me to pass anything along to him, i don't live at home and i avoid speaking to him as much as possible.

tags are for my friends, frequent fliers, and content.

(this blog is run in character by adelaide beatrice corneau. i am open to text roleplay if you want to; other ocs are welcome to interact, and if you'd like to do canon character / bea, we can figure something out for your universe. i will probably make a page about this character's lore at some point, but this is a stand in! you can find me @bitd if you need me ooc.)