#it's the camp. its the humor. it's the animation. its the passion the creators have for their own project. its the CHARACTERS!!

[grapefruit185]

he loves those dumb twins sm, the found family aspect of this show makes me go crazy!!!!!!!

(1st pic is referencing this post lol)

[disneytva]

Cricket Green and his sister, Tilly, grew up racing around on their tractor; embarking on wild adventures in the country; and spending time with their dad, Bill. But they’ve never experienced anything as exciting as life in a bustling metropolis, where they’ve just come to live with their Gramma Alice, a force to be reckoned with as well as the most affectionate grandmother you’re likely to meet. The siblings’ adjustment to their new surroundings is at the heart of the new animated comedy Big City Greens, from comic book creators and brothers Chris and Shane Houghton, which debuts on Disney Channel on Monday, June 18 (9:30 a.m. EDT/PDT), as well as on DisneyNOW and Disney Channel VOD

Disney Channel recently announced that a second season of the series is already in the works, a testament, no doubt, to the Houghtons’ determination to create a series with real characters, genuine emotion, and a premise that Disney fans of all ages will relate to. We spoke with Shane and his younger brother, Chris, about putting heart, soul, and even their own childhood into Big City Greens.

The Muppets are a major influence on Big City Greens. “We wanted the look of the show to really represent the fish-out-of-water aspect of the Greens moving to the big city,” Chris says. The Greens, with their signature bright yellow hue, stand out amongst the other city dwellers, who are a rainbow of greens, blues, purples, and more. “There’s something so charming about that Jim Henson design,” Shane emphasizes, and Chris notes that the Muppets’ impact goes beyond Big City Greens’ production design. “There are humor and clear, lovable characters and really unique relationships between them,” says Chris of the similarities between the Muppets and their new series.

The premise of Big City Greens was inspired by the “big city” Houghtons. Chris and Shane Houghton grew up in the rural community of St. Johns, Michigan, and didn’t venture very far from their small town until they left for college. “That was a big, eye-opening experience, and it was kind of a lonely and strange time, but also exciting and full of change,” older brother Shane recalls. Chris made the big move several years later, camping out on his brother’s living room floor for a few weeks while he got situated. “We wanted to explore what that felt like through the Green family. They at least have each other, but everything else is brand new.”

The series’ characters are based on true-life characters the Houghton brothers grew up with. There’s a lot of Chris Houghton in Cricket, the series’ protagonist. “There’s a third Houghton brother,” Chris explains, “and we were always getting into trouble—so a lot of that trouble-making, free-spirited childhood is embodied in Cricket. We try to bring a great, boisterous carefree energy to him. He’s a bit of a rapscallion.”

Cricket’s father, Bill, and sister, Tilly—a passionate advocate for animals—have their roots in the Houghtons’ real-life family members and neighbors from St. Johns. There is, indeed, a real Gramma Alice, who Chris describes as “a cantankerous, sweet-and-sour grandma who could whip back and forth between being the most terrifying grandmother you’ve ever met and a very, very sweet grandmother.”

Big names are in the Big City Greens guest voice cast. Though Big City Greens is a brand-new show, its guest voice cast is filled with huge stars. Emmy® Award-winner Jon Hamm (Mad Men) voices store manager Louis; Emmy Award-nominated Raven-Symoné (Raven’s Home) is set to play news reporter Maria Media; Grammy® Award-nominated Busta Rhymes lends his voice to a wise fish; Danny Trejo (Spy Kids) guests as bodyguard Vasquez; and Academy Award® winner Jim Rash (The Descendants, Community) is waiter Ted, to name just some of the talented voice actors. Chris stresses, “It was a huge vote of confidence for us and the show to have these really talented, funny folks that we all look up to respond to the material of the show.” 

Shane and Chris want Big City Greens to be a series that anyone can jump into at any time. Shane tells D23, “Coming from comic books, we would walk into a comic shop and see, for example, Spider-Man No. 527, and we would ask ourselves, ‘Can I start here? Can I open this up and understand what’s going on? And a lot of times, the answer is no.’” Chris and Shane purposefully structured their hit comic book series, Reed Gunther, so that each issue could stand on its own as a complete story, and that’s what they want audiences to experience with Big City Greens. “We want the show to be two parts funny and one part heart,” says Shane, a lifelong Pixar fan who says that Toy Story changed his life. “Those movies are so funny and so sweet, and I don’t ever want to make anything that doesn’t resonate with somebody on an emotional level.”

[rageagainstthemarine]

Do Not Reach Beyond the Sky (9/?)

Warnings: None Tags: Canon-typical violence, Freeform, Retelling, Original Characters, Additional Tags Pairing: None yet Characters: All of them

Fahleon Lavellan is several things, a Dalish elf, a deserter Warden, but Herald of Andraste is not of them. The Creators have played a cruel trick if anyone is to believe he played some part of the Conclave even if the evidence is a rift-sealing mark on his hand. Where he does fit, he doesn’t know and isn’t fond of finding out.

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Fahleon needed an excuse to start flinging arrows. Between the lack of sleep, Cassandra's constant glares, and Varric's insistent pacing, one was going to miss - accidentally - and hit either of them in the neck. The dwarf paced about the camp another time to rifle though the rations. Fahleon twitched at the sound of leather on leather and he rose to his feet when Varric tossed a wrapped package of salted meats towards him. He let it drop to the ground.

Excuse be damned.

"I'm going hunting." Walking, more like. Away. Far away. Until his head stopped pounding and his teeth stopped grinding. Fahleon shoved his fingers in his mouth, careful of his teeth, and whistled a sharp note over Cassandra's disapproving tone. Ada tore from the branches to climb the winds above the tree tops. He reached for the pouch slung on his belt out of habit and his fingers back back sticky with old blood. Maybe not an entirely, made up reason to leave, he thought, raising his brows.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Fahleon didn't take his eyes off the kite wheeling in the upper winds. "She won't eat that." He waited for Cassandra to protest with a tap of his fingers against his thigh. He tapped his third and laid it flat against his pants when she inhaled.

"I'm sure it will be fine on its own."

His nostrils flared. "She." He felt more than saw Solas coax a bundle of kindling into flame for the mornings...food...as static under his skin and he rubbed his palm along his pants. "I wont lose her. Again," he added with a narrow of his eyes. Solas did something else, brought the flame higher, it didn't matter. It itched, was the truth, and he scratched madly at his hand with a growl.

What was he doing? Cassandra had asked for a leader when she'd thrown his back to the wall, kept in place by a templar, an assassin, and another woman who's words were as sharp as any of their blades. He didn't need to explain himself or make up some story to do what he wished. His whole...job was to do just that. He wished to walk, just for a moment, under the trees and bloody his hands.

The woman was going to demand he stay put, again, and Fahleon pushed past her and her complaints. He let the shade of the wool cool his face and unslung his bow. He wouldn't need it, not when Ada would be doing to hunting herself, but the wood felt good in his grasp and having something to hold kept his hands busy from clawing another wound into his palm as the magic itched along it. He tilted his face to the skies and tracked the bird's movements beyond the glare of the rising sun.

Hunting alongside her was easier than breathing. Just as well, since irritation made his chest tight. Cold, mountain air filled his lungs and froze off what was left of the tension still sitting on his shoulders and cooled his temper. His head stopped aching and his feet steadied their pace through the woods. If he knew nothing about what he was supposed to do when he met with th Chantry mother or even what to do after, he at least understood everything about Ada. The way she paused the split second before a dive, the sudden twist of her body to push the full force of her small talons into her prey. Her screech of victory when it was over. It rang through the trees and Fahleon jogged to catch up.

This was what he was meant for - shadows and silence and a weapon in his hand, the smell of dirt and coming rain and his own, even breathing. He was made for stalking the smaller creatures hidden beneath the trees, to chase them down and turn their skin and bones into something for use for him. Simple pleasures. Selfishness. Isolation. Nowhere did that include leadership. Communication. Thinking of others. Fahleon wrinkled his nose.

If he thought anything, it was that none of them deserved to be saved from whatever threat currently ravaged Thedas. If the Conclave was just the start, Fahleon would stick around for the other fireworks. As a spectator, not a fighter.

As if he had much choice in the matter, but it was a thought that didn't fail to bring a small smile to his lips. He made sure the expression was wiped off his face before he ducked back into the light of the camp clearing, hunt finished after Ada pounced on a squirrel. There wasn't any arrows to shoot off and little left of the creature to bloody his hands with, but his fingertips were stained pink after skinning what was left and pocketing what Ada hadn't finished for her later.

This was all he needed, after all. His bird, his bow, and his privacy. Two out of three wasn't...terrible. Inconvenient, but so long as he could continue ignoring those who took it away from him. Such as Cassandra's narrow eyed look as he dropped his things by a tent and Varric's raised hand of greeting as he circled the fire to warm his hands. The small smile threatened to return at their silence.

Solas emerged from some corner of the camp, and Fahleon thwarted his attempts at conversation by pulling the skin from his pouch and setting it to dry on the stones keeping the flames contained. The scent of blood mingled with the blend of herbs boiling in a pot above them to curl into a mess of unpleasing smells that was good to dissuade both insects and elves. The disgusted noise that left Solas made his lips quirk.

It wasn't so effective with dwarves. Varric inched closer, and Fahleon kept a careful eye on his not so subtle shifting. He paused when Ada flitted to his shoulder and Fahleon rolled his shoulder to make her shriek before lifting a piece of leftover meat to her. She tore at his finger.

"So, you and the bird?"

"No story." Fahleon frowned when he found Varric nearly at his side. At least his smile had dropped from cheery to something normal. His face was pale so close to Ada, eyes flicking between her beak and her talon as if she'd use them to rip out his teeth at any moment. It wasn't the worst idea she'd had. He tossed a second piece towards the woods and the kite lunged after it. Varric filled in the space she left.

Varric was close enough to nudge him, and he did. Fahleon leaned away from the touch and the dwarf hooked his thumbs in the buckles of his pants, instead. "There's always a story, and with the kind of eyes you look at that animal of yours, there's definitely a good one."

He bristled. If this was just a question to ask in a way to pass the time, Varric could busy himself better by coming up with a story of his own than to bother him for an answer he wouldn't give if he wanted to talk about her like that. Even better if he did it somewhere further away from him. Far away.

Fahleon closed his eyes and, in unusual patience, eased out a slow breath. It was easier if he just the conversation over with. "I found her on the ground - probably tried to fly. She was hurt. There weren't any other birds. I took her with me and fed her until she was better. I brought her back but she didn't leave. End of story."

"That can't be the end-" Fahleon shut him up with a sharp look. Varric dutifully closed his mouth and rocked back on his heels. "You're leaving out all the best parts, though."

Fahleon struggled to keep the apprehension off his face. "Humor me," he parroted, with more confusion than Varric had voiced. The dwarf grinned.

"Seems to me you left out all the mystery, all the passion! All the parts that say that the bird of your's wasn't the only one to be saved that day." Fahleon narrowed his eyes, but Varric only settled on the ground in front of him. Fahleon sighed. He was in for the long haul, now. "See, what you're doing is a bluff. Right there," he said, pointing, but Fahleon didn't see anything out of the ordinary. His tunic was a bit more wrinkles and his pants had a new stain...whatever Varric was looking for wasn't there, but he only pointed more insistently. "There. Your eyebrows."

Fahleon rubbed at the space between them with his thumb.

"The mystery is why you brought her home. To fill some hole, right? So let me guess. You lost someone or you got lost yourself. You were scared and someone took you in and-"

Fahleon clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. "Stop."

Varric lifted his hands in surrender. "You can keep your bluff, but your face says it all. Might be easier if you thought about trusting some of us sooner rather than later, too, because if this goes how I see it happening, you're going to need friends - and not just me."

"We're not friends." Even less so after Varric's attempt at not prying. He was further than a stranger, in all areas. Fahleon barely knew him, barely understood him, and after this...had drastically underestimated him.

"Of course we're not, Smiles," he said, and Fahleon backed away from the hand that was stretched out to - what? - pat him? Hit him? Choke him? He snorted at Varric's wilting smile and turned.

Solas met the full force of his sneer but it was Cassandra that earned his bite when she grabbed his arm and spun him around. He gnashed his teeth and growled. She didn't flinch and it made his cheeks warm. Was he so common faced for them to grow used to his ire so quickly?

"Someone was out for the Divine's life and may be out for yours as well," as if that explained the need for her hands on him. Hadn't she wanted his life just days go, too? He jerked his arm but she only curled her fingers tighter around it. "With the mage-templar war spreading we are in more danger of bandits and rogue mages. You cannot run off every time-"

"You care for me now?" he snarled.

"I am warning you that I am watching every move you make," she snapped back, returning every ounce of vehemence Fahleon gave her. It stung harder than the slap she'd hit him with the first time they met and he rubbed at his mouth. Cassandra gave him another pointed glare before releasing him, and Fahleon whirled for the other side of camp.

It was one more night before Harding was back from her rendezvous with the camp in the Hinterlands proper. One more night of the feeling of eyes on his back - Cassandra's eyes, it was confirmed. Not that he hadn't known without her telling him so. He spat. Varric wanted him to trust her? Or any of them? Halla shit. He'd trust them when they started trusting him. Solas would take the first chance his guard was down to cut open his hand to see how it worked and Varric was one second away from sticking a bolt in his back. Cassandra would do it from the front.

Better not to take his chances. Just as in Haven, Fahleon found a reasonably sized tree and wriggled himself up the trunk to wedge himself in the nook of two sturdy branches. He called to Ada with a whistle and she left the bones pecked clean for the limb above him. It made his nerves ease, just a fraction, to have her nearby, even if she'd tucked her beak in the ruff of thick feathers around her neck to sleep. How lucky she was to be oblivious of it all.

"Traitor," he muttered, and she squawked something undignified for a lady at the disturbance. A quick swipe of a talon at his head put a shallow cut above his brow and he wiped away the sting before folding his bands behind his head to cushion it against the bark as he eyed the rest of the camp.

Varric had taken up a spot further from the fire and Solas had retired to his tent. He narrowed his eyes and rolled onto his side when Cassandre met his gaze. He wouldn't sleep, not with her knowing where he was, and it would leave him with more time than he liked to think.

At dawn, they'd travel the rest of the down the Frostbacks following scout Harding's latest report on the mage-templar war and make their way to the horse master's farm. They'd find the Chantry woman and after that...he scowled. He'd do whatever he was told to.

Close the Breach. Find the suspect at the Conclave. Save Thedas. Everything in between was just small talk.

But after all that? Would he be free to leave? To return home? Pretend like none of it ever happened? Would he be the Chantry's dog by then, begging for every scrap of praise and wagging his tail when he was given another job or two? And the anchor - what would happen to that after all that time passed?

Fahleon rubbed at his eyes. Creators, he really should have just ran.