#my art needs to get more difficult to look at and to parse.

[boypussydilf]

betty, my princess

[tryslora]

Blog: It's the thing I can't ignore

I just turned my music down.

Why is this important? Well, at the same time, I also pulled up a reminder that I wanted to talk about different kinds of background noise when it comes to being neurodivergent and trying to create an environment for focus.

So. Timing.

The most important thing to state here is that this is what works for me; it is not a recipe for perfection for everyone with some form of neurodivergence.

I have often been asked “Why don’t you put on headphones?” as a way to resolve issues with noise in a space. The answer is: I can’t. It doesn’t work for me.

I saw a video recently where it was a skit between two people (one ND, one NT) discussing how they parsed the conversation flowing around them in a crowded room.

For the neurotypical person, they focused in on the person they were speaking with, tuning out everything in the background.

For the neurodivergent person, they pointed out that every single conversation in the room was equally audible. It became a mashup in their head, making it nearly impossible to focus on the conversation with the person near them, because their brain gave equal weight to the conversation going on at the next table over.

I saw this and screamed “YES” because that’s it. Exactly.

Add in random background noise, which my brain also cheerfully elevates to high importance level, and hearing becomes difficult. I have to look at someone and see their lips moving. I don’t read lips. But I have to be able to put the two things together to get my brain to remember that THAT is the particular sound to pay attention to and parse.

I do not do well in crowded or loud environments.

This also means that when I’m in my office, and there are sudden noises coming out of the arts studio down the hall, my brain is constantly picking up on them as Important Must Pay Attention things rather than relegating them to background.

The reason why putting on noise cancelling headphones to pipe music into my ears does not work is because putting it CLOSER to me makes it WORSE. Headphones scream “most important” to my brain, and thus, that becomes the focus thing. Not the words on my screen. Not the task at hand. Certainly not writing.

I suspect this may be a similar problem with notifications on my phone or Discord or whatever… brain promptly elevates their status, and I can’t function until I look at them. Side point, letting it go.

Anyway.

Right now I’m listening to a playlist made up of songs from anime I’ve watched—opening credits, endings, insert songs. And I just turned it down, because even having it be very familiar music in a language not my own was too much today. I needed it to be even more distance from. (Yes, it’s playing on speakers—no headphones here).

Does this affect me only when I’m trying to write or work? Nope.

I wear earplugs when I sleep, because if there is noise, it will wake me up. My brain is very insistent on that importance level of the things it hears.

Husband loves white noise, and I hate it. I find the chirping of night bugs, or running of water, or rumbling thunder all very distracting, yes, even when I’m sleeping. I tune in rather than tune out.

And the funny thing is, yes, he’s ADHD too. And I know so many people who have ADHD who find white noise to be something that saves them. Without it, they can’t focus. And I do get that.

Hell, as a teenager, I studied to top 40 hits on my radio, then replayed songs in my head to remember what I was reading at the time when the song played (and then would reread the page in my head, man I wish my memory worked that well now!).

So as I said at the start: not everyone who is neurodivergent processes things the same way. For me, I like having sound, but I need it be distant enough from me that I can put it aside, and it needs to be predictable in some way and not grate on my skin/eardrums.

(Just hit fast forward because that song had autotune which was absolutely distracting.)

Anyway. There are side points to this, like my discovery that I can process audiobooks, but had to figure out when and how they worked for me. And the knowledge that something that is background in one place might be distracting in another. And the fact that things change over time as our brains change (and in my case, apparently as my hormones change—did you know that menopause affects ADHD? SIGHS. Yeah, I know that too, now…).

Oh, and the different kinds of music that are required for different projects. Currently anime music works for me. Eventually I’ll go back to overly familiar pop punk. Or classical piano and guitar (wrote a whole book to that particular soundtrack).

But the short version is, figuring out what worked for me helped increase focus. And there are still days when I don’t know the answer, and wish I could tune everything out with earplugs in public spaces, but the flipside of everything is that when I’m not sleeping, I kind of freak out when I can’t hear the world around me. So.

Aren’t brains fun?

[romani-ranch]

Robin Fire Emblem is the best gender separation in the series.

Excuse the smash render, this is the only fullbody I could find that had both of their full outfits.

Look at these cunts. These genuinely look like the same persons but with different gender expressions. I do think the character creator leaves a bit to be desired, as does any character creator with gender-locked features, but on their own merits, with regards to the base designs, the two robins are the perfect gender select. They are wearing the exact same outfit, and they didn’t force F!Robin to show way more skin. I genuinely believe these are the same character. Considering what’s to come, I’m amazed at a design this good in a Fire Emblem game. There is the Gacha game, and the distribution of alts between these two is, Not Great, but that is a topic for another post. Please take a moment to appreciate these designs before we continue. Things will get worse, quickly.

In contrast, look at the Corrins.

While their outfits are very similar, there is one glaring difference. F!Corrin has to show off her thighs, while M!corrin gets to wear much more practical tights. There is literally no reason for this to be a gender difference, aside from the notion that there is something inherently sexual about femininity. I don’t even necessarily think F!Corrin needs to cover up, I just want the designs to show the same amount of skin, because they’re the same person. Corrin is a weirdo, they walk around barefoot in impractical armor, if they want to show some skin, that’s fine, I just want some equality.

Byleth, however is where Fire Emblem *really* shits the bed.

Excuse my use of Gacha game art, but the poses in their Three Houses renders are so different it makes comparing them there very difficult. (Which is probably a conversation to be had in itself.)

That being said, what the fuck is this? What the fuck is F!Byleth wearing? The difference in skin shown is fucking STAGGERING. While certain elements of the outfit are consistent enough to make it clear these are intended to be the same character, holy shit are these outfits different, and as a direct result, they communicate the characters very differently. M!Byleth looks like the stoic, ruthless mercenary of few words they’re supposed to be, where F!Byleth looks more fun and quirky in exact fucking opposition to the way they are characterized. And for fucking what? F!Byleth’s outfit isn’t even hot, it’s a category 5 Disaster of Fashion.

And to round off this conversation, I’ll mention Alear.

Comparing these two is surprisingly difficult, for me at least, because their fits are so fucking bizzare and nonsensical they’re difficult to even parse. That said, there are similar ideas going on in both outfits, but F!Alear feels a lot more like a sexy cosplay of M!Alear, than a more feminine take on the same design. Replacing the shorts with stockings is already an odd, yet predictable choice, as it continues the pattern of female characters showing thighs, but here it especially feels like it hurts the design, as the weird baggy shorts of M!Alear alter their silhouette, an element that F!Alear loses out on entirely. Much more egregious, however, is what happens to M!Alear's Jacket. It becomes some kind of miniature corset that removes an entire dimension from her design. I don’t think it’s as god awful as what F!Byleth has going on, because I can at least compare the two outfits directly, but it’s really not great.

Anyway, this is why Robin is the best My Unit, and nobody even comes close.

Also why gender is a fucking scam.

[ozwuv]

I would like to draw more but I find myself overthinking it and then losing motivation. So, I was wondering if you ever had a similar issue and if so what do you do to stay motivated and not overthink?

Really good question actually!

What nipped the overthinking for me was just completely dropping the planning stage of drawing. I don't put much thought into composition, colors, etc. I don't have any solid ideas of how I want things to look before I begin. Obligatory disclaimer that this is from my perspective as a hobbyist and therefore not practical for an aspiring professional, & this is gonna sound like BS but hear me out lol

Most of the time the only things I have in mind are 1. What character(s) I want to draw and 2. A vague idea of the atmosphere I want the finished product to convey. And "finished" can mean a lot of things -- a messy sketch can be finished, a fully rendered piece I spent an entire day could be finished. A common pitfall people fall into is having an impractically rigid idea of what a "finished" drawing is and subsequently what they want their art to look like, all the bells and whistles etc, when realistically your art is never going to look exactly how it did in your head. But is that really such a bad thing?

I guess the overarching concept is to just fall in love with the process and enjoy the journey rather than the destination. This obviously sounds easier than it is in reality, but imo people focus way too hard on what they're producing rather than how and why they're producing it. Other people loving what you draw and praising it is wonderful, but if you don't enjoy the process, what was the point? Drawing (and I would venture to say most other forms of art in general) becomes a chore with that mindset applied.

A lack of planning may very well mean you wind up drawing a lot of stuff that doesn't seem interesting, maybe haphazard, difficult to parse, etc, but this is all your perception. It's cliché, but there is always going to someone out there that adores something you think looks like a dumpster fire, and that applies to the things you draw too. Over time, just doing whatever you want and enjoying the process has this trickle effect that will improve your output. In the same vein, constantly overthinking will also inevitably trickles into your output. You can often tell when someone enjoyed the process of something they drew vs when it was just a slog for them to get through (at least relative to their other works).

I would venture to say that you could spend your entire life studying and could be the most technically knowledgeable person about illustration ever in the world, but if you don't genuinely love the process, your work will never be as good as it could be if you did.

If you finish something and think it looks like shit that's always a bummer, but if you had fun with it, I think that was time worth spending. I've said this before, but most of the time I only truly dislike something I've drawn when I spent any part of the process frustrated with how it was going. It's counterintuitive, but I really think that placing so much emphasis in how you want the finished product to look is what ultimately is going to make it look like shit to you.

All that being said, once you do get past that initial overthinking phase, you can start to get more specific with planning and whatnot. The key is to just stop holding onto the idea of what you want and allowing things to develop as you go. Your art will naturally improve this way since you're actually enjoying it. To me, that's what people mean when they say they can tell something was made with love.

Side note: Let go of the need to be consistent/have a developed style. Just let yourself be inconsistent. You don't need strict consistency unless you're like an animator who needs to keep characters on-model or something. Experimenting is not only way more fun, but leads to improvement and discovering new things to implement into your process/style at large.

Tl;dr just get a lil silly w it :3c

[demonfuck]

thinking about making art that is patient

being the way that i am, this maybe kind of comes naturally to me

as a teen i found it interesting to make art with no audience in mind. as in, NO audience. it will sit on a server somewhere gathering dust

and it doesn't try to make you feel guilty for its isolation. it was never your responsibility to find it and interact with it and understand it. it's patient. it makes peace with itself

i'm happy with that process making it kind of timeless. there were never any references or details that demanded that it be read this week, or this year, or within this lifetime. i've always been fascinated by outsider art, including stuff that doesn't get found until after the artist has passed away

it makes MAKING art feel less urgent to me. to be able to make something, "put it out there", and then continue making it. i feel the URGE to get wrapped up in expectation and disappointment. to say, why did i make this if no one saw it? should i continue making it? if i continue making it, will resentment seep in to the text? what good are my good ideas if no one is looking at them?

i think there's a part of me that deliberately tries to avoid the pain of disappointment and unpopularity by expecting to be discovered long after my death. to say, well, wouldn't it be exciting if someone discovered my weird art blog or my unfinished book sometime in the future? i know of lots of comics and anime that have meant the world to me, that i didn't get to participate with in real time

still. it's all too possible to go too far with this sort of thing. i appreciate when this way of thinking let me work on art one piece after the next without stopping myself and forcing myself to try something different because this wasn't Doing Numbers. but doing it like this forever would cut me off from lots of wonderful experiences within my lifetime. to be able to learn what works and what doesn't. what's too difficult to parse, what's boring, what's annoying. unintentionally anyway. i don't mind making something difficult, boring, and annoying, but i rarely want to make something impossible to parse that puts you to sleep

when i was making art for myself, for my own needs, i'm glad i made it in a way that was criticism agnostic. and while i'd like to allow myself to maybe, advertise myself more, consider an audience more, i really want to retain the lessons i've learned in making patient art

idk. i want to push myself more this year ! because there's a major keystone of motivation in the back and forth conversation between audience and creator. i work faster when i know, specifically, that someone will see and respond to my work. and criticism plays a major role in becoming more effective at achieving whatever your art was meant to achieve. comforting someone, discomforting them, sharing a lesson, imparting a warning, or just helping them lose track of time safely in a world full of demands and danger

and then there's the money game. the "make something that will fund your next something" type game. make a portfolio of things that communicates what you're about, what your capable of now, that makes people imagine what you would make in the future if you're allowed to continue creating without starving to death. this basically runs in the opposite direction of my entire spiel about patient art, but i don't think it contradicts it. potentially, anyway

generally i think i've turned myself into that portfolio. when i talk to people, i'm showing them my Self as the thing i'm capable of. my problem solving, my comfort, my patience, my passion. i practice being valuable as a person and i hope sometimes that maybe that will be the avenue which sees my life get funded. "if you like talking to me today," i imply, "you should buy me dinner so that i am around to keep talking tomorrow!" is this normal? is this moral? join my patreon

[hartshorn-and-isinglass]

At last, I’ve finally gotten a chance to listen to the VSO perform live. When I saw how heavily it was already snowing tonight I had a real moment of doubt as to whether I was going to even go. In fact, it looked like more than a few people may have bailed given how surprisingly not-full the Flynn was. Due to the snowstorm, they also cancelled intermission and played the entire program straight through so that everyone could gain a half-hour lead time on their trip back home. It’s very pretty out but ffffffuck that wind coming off the lake is miserable.

I am, of course, glad I went. Support the arts and feed your soul, like I said. 

This program was a little unusual in that it was two tone poems and two piano concertos–as director Andrew Crust mentioned, it’s unusual for a piano soloist to be down to play two full-length concertos in one performance. A bit of a flex by Sir Stephen Hough, tbh. But that dude’s entire life has been a flex, so hey, why not also just toss in the Mendelssohn Piano Concerto No. 1 before you do the East Coast premiere of your own piano concerto. 

First piece up was Wojciech Kilar’s ‘Orawa’, a tone poem based on the region of the same name along the Polish-Slovak border. I know Kilar from his excellent soundtrack to Coppola’s Dracula and decided not to listen to any of his other concert pieces just so I could be surprised by this one–now though I’m going to definitely look more of his stuff up. In a Bartok-esque fashion he takes a page from the region’s folk music to create this piece, but Kilar is a bit more spare and minimalist in his orchestration. It’s very evocative of a cold alpine climate. I was struck by how Andrew Crust’s conducting is very easy to follow even from an audience POV. He’s very whole-body with his gestures. This was the only piece where I got a clear look at that because once they wheeled the piano onstage the lid was blocking most of my view, alas.

Next up, the Mendelssohn. Mild hot take but I do like Mendelssohn a lot more than I like Beethoven and a huge part of it is that his melodic lines are just so. fucking. satisfying. Perfect timing of tension and release; it’s what makes the Mendelssohn violin concerto fun to play and still fun to listen to even though fucking everybody plays it. This is a rip-roaring good time of a piano concerto and Hough was a delight to listen to. My only complaint here was entirely my bad: when I selected my front-off-center seat (I wanted to be close to the orchestra for nostalgia reasons) I figured that the piano would be a bit more towards stage right and I’d be sitting clear of it. Instead, they parked that thing so that I was essentially under the middle of the piano and getting blasted full-force by the sound coming right from the bottom of the plate… and yeah, that about knocked my socks off. I’ve learned a valuable lesson for future piano concerts, LOL. 

Anna Clyne’s ‘Sound and Fury’ was the second tone poem, and I am going to need to find a recording of this to listen to because I for sure didn’t catch everything that was going on in it. It’s a piece for symphony orchestra plus a narrator towards the end (with the narration here being provided by author M. T. Anderson) but it’s clearly influenced by electronic music and there’s a hypnotic quality to most of it that actually made it difficult to parse everything going on. Intriguing. 

Last up was ‘The World of Yesterday’ by Sir Stephen Hough. The origin story for this concerto is that during the pandemic a Hollywood director asked him if he would write some music for a film about a pianist writing a concerto (very meta). The film never got greenlit, but Hough took the sketches from that and turned it into an actual concerto. This concerto is a love letter to like, every tonal composer from the early to mid-20th century and so it feels very film-score, since that is the sound that became the blueprint for music in film and television. As the title would imply, it is very evocative of nostalgia, and that nostalgia is very seductive… for a while. But it doesn’t quite lead to the happily ever after of the movies. Hough joked before the performance that while the great composer-pianists wrote their piano concertos to showcase their best performance attributes, he's not sure what he's actually good at. But one thing that I noticed, ironically, is that this doesn't feel like Rachmaninoff where the piano just fucking takes it for the next 32 bars to pull a Ling-Ling. There's a balanced interplay between piano and orchestra. It's still a fair workout for the pianist but it's not as much of that blatant "look at meeeee" kinda deal. So make of that what you will. Anyway, the recording for this concerto is coming out soon and I will have to give it another whirl when it drops.

So yeah, very glad I made it out for this one!

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 017: Let's get smashed (ASM 116-118)

MASTERPOST

So John Romita Sr. just died. A great artist. I don't need to tell you, by this point.

1973 is here! Now, as I said, I'm very familiar with the few upcoming years. But will I look at them differently? Hmm!!!

The issue recaps what happened last time, and it feels surreal to now see exactly what happened. It's pretty much how I imagined it, except slightly more complicated.

Richard Raleigh is back! Or rather, here. What's up with that?

Well, turns out issues 116-118 re-publish Spectacular Spider-Man Magazine #1 (that special in black and white!) but edit it to fit continuity. In the original print (of ish 116), Stan Lee explains that SSM#1 was published around an election year, and they felt like the new election year was apropos for a lil' lifting, handled script-wise by my baby Gerry Conway, and visuals-vise by John Romita Sr. naturally.

So let's read them!

Ah, Romita. Your art never disappointed.

Maybe it's my contemporary look, but this single panel on the right raises so many alarm bells it's hilarious. I've head that kind of words coming from my politicians. *sigh*

The GwenPeter drama continues, and with the recent realization that Romita worked on romances, it all makes a lot of sense.

Man, I'm sure I commented on that back when---

Yup.

It's very nice to see how much Romita's art improved (more perspectives! And the colors help him a lot too.

You know, as we get on to issue 117, I feel like Conway's writing is easier to understand for me, as-in, not difficult at all, whereas Stan's writing was often annoying to parse due to some expressions. You really see the difference. Of course, Stan wrote the original issue, but Conway pretty clearly rewrote pretty much everything.

We've got a new masked baddie, and he reminds me of when the Kingpin's son was the antagonist for a bit. I hope we get to see him and his mother again!

Back to the gentleman's club (with no George Stacy in sight, since he died), Norman is still interesting and Robbie continues to be the MVP.

Yeah, Pete, things haven't really changed.

...I'm saying that, but actually, it's the opposite in my country now. Presidential candidates are about appealing to the voting majority... that is, old people. That is, people who don't work anymore but support the government's effort to raise the age of pension YES THIS WAS A POLITICAL POST FROM THE START MUAHAHAHA no but seriously. OLD PEOPLE WHO AREN'T GONNA BE AFFECTED BY IT ARE THE ONES MOST SUPPORTING IT. what a bunch of assholes.

anyway.

The multiple references to Peter's ulcer make more sense now too! Forgot about that. Poor baby. (Honey you're about to live through the worst two years of your life, and I will be seated. With popcorn. Actually, I have a coke and crackers. Yes, it's not even noon yet. Who cares. I'm a freelancer. My schedule is random.

Robertson's digging into Raleigh makes him a prime target (as usual), so the Disruptor's about to attack him with the Smasher. But wait... Huh?

In the reader's letters, people are praising Gerry Conway and overall issue 113. Which. Yes. He gets the soap opera. He gets it!!!

In issue 118, Robertson tries his best against the Disruptor, and to be fair, his best is a whole lot. Of course, he isn't fit to fight him, but still!

As the final battle, rages on, those messages down there interspede, and it's a genius move. It wasn't present in the original and I've got to say, it's excellent. It gives pacing, foreboding, and foreshadows what's about to happen...

The Disruptor says "he won't run off with his tail between his legs like a jackal" and oh boy, did they know about the upcoming villain of the same name? It's a line present in the original, but I can't help but wonder...

Of course, the Disruptor was actually Raleigh all along (it couldn't be anybody else), which makes his behavior kind of wonky, but oh well.

This set of issues is fine, I love me some intrigue, and we get to see the supporting cast, but it lacked something. As to know what, exactly, I'm not sure.

In the letters, Bill Creighton complains that the supporting cast hasn't had much appearances recently (before the previous batch of issues) and Stan reassures him that Conway, as was already seen, is attached to showing more of them. He also teases a bigger part for Harry soon... and laughs maniacally. Muahaha.

[running-with-toast]

Lettering sound effects in Shiori Experience

Hi! I’m Toast, the letterer on #dropout’s English translation of Shiori Experience. This series was my first time doing typesetting, and I’ve learned a lot over the two years I’ve been involved in the project. Each new chapter brings new challenges, and as our team has matured we’ve gotten more ambitious. We recently began translating the comic’s sound effects along with the dialogue, a decision which instantly doubled the size of our workload. 

Our most recent release, Chapter 64, was probably the most technically complex chapter we’ve done so far. The sound effects in this chapter were varied and complicated, presenting a number of interesting challenges. Today I thought it would be fun to give y’all a peek behind the curtain, and show the thought process and effort that goes into the adaptation of sound effects in Shiori Experience.

Shiori Experience is a music manga [citation needed], so it isn’t surprising that the sound effects can get pretty complicated. Music manga need to convey not just the sound, but more importantly the impact of a performance, conveying an auditory experience in a totally silent medium. Shiori Experience’s approach to this problem is to make the sound effects semi-diegetic objects. They hang in the air, burst out of crowds, get obscured by foreground objects, and cast shadows on their environment. This is a really cool effect, but also makes converting them from Japanese to English a fucking nightmare.

(Look at the shadows)

Shiori Experience is kind of a nightmare

In some ways, lettering for Shiori Experience isn’t actually that difficult. Sound effects in this series are goddamn everywhere and they’re fucking gigantic, but they’re always straightforward. Much like the art of the series, the sound effects are clean and angular, strong dynamic shapes which are easy to parse even if you can’t read the katakana. For a great example of this, look at this sequence from Chapter 64.

This sequence demonstrates what you can achieve with good lettering. The sound of the band is conveyed perfectly with these visuals. The clear and regular beat of the drums, the dark and energetic bass line, the screaming uncontrollable energy of the electric guitar. We didn’t even bother translating it. We didn’t need to.

But look at the sequence again. In spite of its apparent complexity, there’s only two fonts here, a dynamic block text and an angular brush. Those two fonts represent the vast majority of SFX in Shiori Experience. The rest is just text effects and perspective tricks.

So to convert these sound effects into English, we just have to find equivalent fonts. It took me a while to pin down a set of fonts I was happy with. For the pointy brush font I eventually settled on Jolly Lodger, a brush font with a sort of piratey vibe. I’m still not 100% satisfied with this conversion, it isn’t as pointy as the original, but it’s good enough for now.

And for the big block font I chose Boogaloo. It looks a little thin when it’s on its own like this, but it really bulks up with the right text effects.

Great! We’ve got our fonts! Doing the sound effects should be as simple as erasing the old text and replacing it with the new text, right? Wrong. The nightmare begins.

Different approaches

There are several schools of thought when it comes to lettering manga SFX. One is the "keikkaku means plan" approach. In a translator's note outside the panel, or in plain text near the SFX, describe what the sound is. This is incredibly easy. This is also lame.

(This is from the official release of Dungeon Meshi. I wouldn’t want to redraw this one either, but like, come on guys.)

Another school of thought is style matching. Similar to the translator’s note approach, but rather than plain text, the translation uses similar text effects to the original SFX. This works fine, but it can create a lot of visual clutter if implemented poorly.

(This is from Drifting Dragons. Please read Drifting Dragons.)

The last approach is full replacement. In this approach, the original SFX is (are you ready for this?) fully replaced by the new SFX.

SFX Redrawing

Replacing a sound effect isn’t as simple as just erasing it. We work with tankoban pages, scans of the Japanese volume release. These files are flattened, with the art and text all on one layer as a single image. We can’t just disable the text. In order to remove the original SFX, we have to redraw them.

(for context this is from when I had covid)

Redrawing means recreating the art hidden by the original SFX. This is a complex process, requiring a steady hand, sharp eyes, and  a lot of guesswork. Since we don’t know what precisely is underneath the original SFX, we have to use context to reconstruct it. The goal of any localization is to make the translation invisible to the reader. The same principle holds true in redrawing. The art we add needs to be invisible, meshing seamlessly with the original artwork.

(I made this dude up out of whole cloth. I’m honestly really proud of how he came out.)

#Dropout uses a mix of style matching and full replacement, with the choice between the two being determined by a number of factors. To illustrate that decision-making process, let’s break down the process of redrawing a page of Shiori Experience, specifically the spread across pages 172 and 173 from Chapter 64.

Deciding between Style Match and Full Replacement

This is the original untranslated page, and there’s a lot going on.

In the background of the first panel is the sound of the band, バアアアン, phonetically translated as "BA-A-A-A-N", localized as “BWAAAM”. In the foreground is the cheering of the crowd, ボオワアアア, "BO-O-WA-A-A-A" phonetically, “ROOAAR” localized. Lastly, along the side of panels 3 through 6 is applause, パチ, "PA-CHI", “CLAP”.

At a glance, this page is overwhelming. The cheering sound effect is huge, with custom text effects conveying the energy of the crowd. Worse is the clapping, which overlays multiple panels with dozens of unique partially obscured faces. This looks like a pain in the ass to redraw, but in the end I decided to do a full replacement instead of a simpler style match. With the number and size of the SFX combined with the visual density of the panels, doing a style match would result in a cluttered unreadable mess. Too much of the original artwork would be covered, and there just isn’t enough space. So, full replacement.

The redrawing process

As I’ve gained more experience, it’s been surprising to learn what constitutes a difficult redraw. You’d expect crowd shots to be the hardest, with lots of unique faces and little details, but they actually aren’t that bad IMO. More detail means more context means less guessing. Definitely a lot of work, but not difficult. Meanwhile, something like a gradient or screentone pattern which looks simple is actually a goddamn nightmare to recreate, as we'll see later.

That’s why I started my redraw for this page with the clapping. Again, this looks like it would be really hard, but looks can be deceiving. There’s a lot of clapping, yes, but the text is thin and spaced out. Whiting out the text reveals just how little artwork is actually hidden by the sound effects.

After whiting out the original text, the next step is connecting as many existing lines as I can. I do the panel and bubble borders on a separate layer since they’re simple structural elements. The artwork itself requires a bit more thought. I need to examine the original artwork carefully to avoid connecting lines that shouldn’t be connected. Context can also provide guidance where there are no lines to connect, such as the cheering guy’s hat in the first panel, or the clapping hand in the second panel. Also, when there’s lots of little SFX like this it’s easy to miss a few lines, like the box thing near the bottom of the last panel (don’t worry I catch it later).

The last step is adding in all the inking and screentones, the pattern templates which fill in the “color” to the line work. I have to go through with the clone stamp tool, collect samples from the image, and extend the pattern to fill the blank areas. This is the most annoying step in the process for me, because it requires a level of precision even beyond what’s required for the line work. Humans are pattern-recognition machines. Our brains are really good at catching tiny discrepancies, like when a section of a pattern doesn’t quite line up with the rest of it. My patch job on this panel wasn’t perfect, and you can see where I couldn’t quite line things up in areas like the guy’s checkered shirt in the first panel.

And with that, this redraw is complete! Now it’s time to insert the English translation of the sound effect.

SFX Lettering

The clapping SFX is in that same brush font I pointed out earlier, which we use JollyLodger for. There’s no real perspective things or text effects here, so mimicking the original isn’t difficult. Here’s the before and after.

This approach of fully redrawing the old SFX before inserting the new SFX only works in situations like this, where the text is small and there’s enough detail to reconstruct the image with a high level of confidence. As an SFX gets larger, like the roar of a crowd, the harder it gets to fully replace. This calls for a different approach.

Because of the size and complexity of this sound effect, I decided to do the lettering first. This is the block font I identified earlier, which is replaced by Boogaloo. I do some basic manipulation right away, applying a black outline and distorting the text to create the same perspective effect as the original. The SFX in this series are subtly three-dimensional, and the replacement text needs to be in the same orientation to sell the effect.

I’m also being careful with my placement here, doing my best to align the new text with the old. This will be important later.

Next we need to recreate the distortion effect. Photoshop has functionality to mimic this kind of effect, but I opted to do it manually. Osada (the mangaka) does all these layouts, SFX and all, on paper. The original effect was hand drawn, so the replacement effect is hand drawn.

The lettering for this effect is now complete, and we can begin the redraw process. Since we already have the letters in place, we have the advantage of knowing exactly where a redraw is needed, turning what would otherwise have been an enormous replacement into a minor patch job. From here, it’s the same process as the clapping SFX: Raw, Blank, Line, Fill.

Minor sidebar: translating Japanese sound effects presents an interesting and incredibly niche problem. The katakana symbol オ is translated phonetically as “o”. The problem with that is that when you’re replacing a オ with an O in a sound effect, the hole of the O is positions right on the center of the オ. This makes オ really annoying to redraw. Every O turns into a little window of totally new art, with barely any reference points to draw from. It violates the principle of invisibility, but there’s really no way around it. You can see I got a little lazy here, and clonestamped a different section of the crowd into the hole. As long as I don’t draw attention to it nobody will notice. I hope.

Sidebar over. Just for fun, here’s the before and after for the whole page.

Closing thoughts

So that’s what it takes to do the sound effects for one page of Shiori Experience. This page alone took me multiple days to complete, and it wasn’t even the most complicated page in this chapter. It isn’t why our releases take so long (that can be laid at the feet of staffing and scheduling issues), but hopefully I’ve given you a sense of how much work goes into each new chapter.

This chapter would have taken even longer without the help of Adi and Bangistus, who pitched in on a lot of the smaller SFX. Up until now the lettering of this series has been a solo show, Toast all the way down. Now that Adi and Bang are on the team I’m still keeping most of the big pages for myself, but being able to toss to the others when I get overwhelmed is going to be invaluable. Hopefully I can rely on them in the future as well, there’s some big things coming down the pipe

This series is a labor of love. Sometimes frustrating, often exhausting, but always worth it. I owe this series a lot, and I hope it shows in the work I put into it. I think it would be fun to do more behind the scenes process content like this, so maybe keep an eye out for that in the future.

Lastly, just as a status update, #dropout is not dropping Shiori Experience.  We have a temporary translator who’s helping us put together Chapter 65, which will be coming out Eventually™. Not as long as last time, but like always don’t hold your breath. We’re not sure what will happen after 65 drops. We’re still desperately hiring for a main translator, seriously if you know anybody please hit me up.

That’s all from me. Take care y’all.

[dianight]

Ok not to put this person's review on blast but let's go over it. Spoilers obviously.

As a quick intro, this person says "[...]I don't ever back down" regarding the reason they kept reading the manga while not enjoying it. It would go against my nature to judge them negatively for it. The stubborn, the obstinate, the determined, those who persevere worship me even if they don't know it, so I have to commend them even in their most stupid endeavors. Such as this one.

---

Most important part is "didn't feel right" which is a recurring theme on this person's experience. I found the story very (bitter)sweet myself. Difference in tastes one would suppose.

---

The pair of students in particular do bond over the fetish of one of them. The relationship is not even close to "one suffers/the other enjoys" because Hina would do anything for Airi and doing what she's told to do makes her happy because she gets to be with her. I feel like this person might not be familiar with more unconventional displays of affection: Hina doing everything Airi suggests (read: orders) and Airi wanting to mess up Hina because she is into her and in denial ("the cutest girl in class").

The series literally tells you why they do it at school. To say "PLOT" would not be incorrect, but we are talking about the in-story reason which again, is laid out for the readers: Airi is a girl who's concerned about her image, her facade and hanging out with her new friends is better for her than hanging out with the girl she's into but can't accept yet. Fooling around after school when they are alone is how Airi comforts herself.

I cannot find where they "justify it with the danger making it exciting" whatever that means. Once more, the manga shows word for word the reason for such a setup.

"Stupid characters making terrible decisions" is literally the best part of this review because that's what makes an interesting story. Sometimes one has to try some series and when you don't like what you are reading, you can just say "this isn't for me" and move on.

This person wanted my attention and they got it. Congratulations! Now you can do anything you want, it is only downhill from here.

---

This person might also not be used to series with heavier themes that have cutesy art. Madoka comes to mind. Gakkou Gurashi too. More that I don't remember now, but we get the idea don't we? That "violent whiplash" is even used intentionally sometimes but after glancing at their others works (and pixiv) I suspect Manio-sensei likes yuri and also enjoys more serious themes since some of the doujins (danganronpa(?)/needy girl overdose) deal with them.

This person might need some selfreflection perhaps. It is strange for me to see someone that reads something out of rage despite feeling terrible while doing so. I hope it was a bet and they got something out of it. I embody perseverance, not misery. "Feel terrible", "self-hatred" (are you okay girlie colega(a dude according to MAL)) those are questionable expressions when talking about something you read. Art is meant to evoke feelings, but there is a disconnect somewhere I feel. No matter, personal tastes.

---

Not a fan of the word "gross" to describe a toxic yuri manga. Makes me think that this person might be homophobic, or maybe just close minded. The first chapter had me sparkling with stars in my eyes.

We've gone over the whole "don't read things you don't enjoy" but the second sentence was difficult to parse. He doesn't want to remember so he's... looking back? You do you.

It appears that this person didn't like the writing, and I kind of agree that the ending was slightly weak in comparison to the rest. Hard to close this story in a satisfying way other than death, I'd personally would have loved if they both drowned together. This way perhaps they get rescued in time, get some help and start a new life together... (<- improbable). Not sure about what's to be earned when you are reading something you clearly don't want to, but a manga doesn't need to earn your feelings(?) or whatever this person is trying to communicate here.

I have to give this person some credit in looking at something not for them, going through it while raging and still coming out and saying "good try". I'm assuming good faith here.

A time machine would do this person some help if he can apply his own advice.

---

I completely understand that Kitanai Kimi ga Ichiban Kawaii is not a manga for everyone and it is not my intention to make fun of the author of this review. I just found it humorous and needed to type why.

Kitanai Kimi ga Ichiban Kawaii was good.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hi there! I adore your blog and I was so happy when I saw you pop up on my dash! Could I request a scenario of Soma x fem reader with the “b” prompt from the Soulmate AU post? Sorry, if that’s really specific, I’m a total sucker for the soulmate troupe lol. Thank you so much, and I hope you are having a lovely day!

aaaaa I’m so glad you’re enjoying my content!! <3

and never be sorry, this is so cute omg. I hope you’re having a lovely day too!!

SOULMATE AU ALPHABET

b…ody art (doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate’s skin).

When a small scribble of a lotus flower appears on the inside of your wrist, your heart skips a beat. You know what it means ― your soulmate is drawing on their skin, and finally you might be able to figure out who they are.

The next thing that shows up on your skin is a scrawling of words beneath the lotus, but… it’s in a language you don’t recognize. None of your usual coworkers can parse it, so you pay a visit to one of your business associates, Ciel. (He’s got a couple of hearts on his face today, probably a sweet reminder from his own fiancée.) Funnily enough, he’s not the one who helps you; he can’t read it, even though he says it looks like some kind of Indian dialect.

It’s actually his butler who offers more specific advice. Sebastian tells you that it looks like Hindi to him, and suggests that you might try asking his friend Agni, who’s currently staying in Ciel’s townhouse with his master, Prince SOMA.

Off you go on the next leg of your journey, and at the townhouse the door is answered by a tall, smiling Indian man in a turban who asks what he can do for you. After confirming that this is Agni, you shyly display your wrist in his direction with both the lotus and the words in full view.

“I’m so sorry if I’m bothering you or being presumptuous,” you say, “but Mr. Sebastian told me this might be Hindi. Would it be too much trouble for you to translate it for me if it is?”

The thought of him possibly ending up as your soulmate crossed your mind when Sebastian mentioned him. Although he and Soma surely can’t be the only Indians here in London, they’re the only two who are vaguely in your circle of acquaintances.

As it stands, you’ve never met either of them before, so your soulmate could just as easily be someone else you’ve never met… perhaps they’re even still in India!

Practically the second he sees the miniature picture and words, his eyes go wide. His smile doesn’t disappear, though, and he quickly ushers you inside. “Here, stay a moment… I think my prince can help you much more than I can.”

“Oh, ah… of course.” Although that’s strange, you take a seat where he directs you to, and you wait anxiously.

You can’t get too lost in thought, because just a moment later there are clamoring footsteps coming down the stairs. “He bhagavaan, is this real life?!”

The man you’re faced with is within a few years of your age, maybe a bit younger, with a shockingly violet shade of hair tied up in a messy ponytail. And his eyes, those eyes, it’s like his creator poured golden sunshine right into them.

… And sunshine right into his smile, too. His face is so bright, you’re surprised the townhouse even needs lamps. Couldn’t he just light the rooms himself by smiling?

Agni is right behind him, clearly attempting to get the other man under some kind of control even though he’s smiling himself. “Lady (Name), please, meet my lord, Prince Soma Asman Kadar. Will you show him what you showed me?”

“Oh, ah… yes, yes.” You hold your wrist out almost like an offering, so that he can see everything which came into existence on your skin. “I’m sorry, is it difficult to read? Is that why Mr. Agni needed your help?”

Soma laughs, and moves to roll up his own sleeve. “Yes, I’m the only one who can read my own writing! It’s ― what do you say it like in English? ‘Chicken scratch’? Look!”

As soon as your eyes make contact with his wrist, you feel almost like they’re going to fall right out of your head. Right there on his gorgeous skin is black ink, just like what appeared on yours… a drawing of a lotus, and a scribbling of some words.

You’re so stunned, you can’t do anything but hold on when Soma grabs you and twirls you around. His excitement is endearing and you’re not sure you would stop him if you were thinking straight right now. “It’s you!” he laughs. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s you!! This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life, when I finally meet my princess!”

“O-oh… oh, my!” You can’t help but giggle right along with him, keeping yourself as close as you possibly can. He’s so… adorable. His happiness is infectious, in part because you’ve been waiting quite a while for this, too.

“I should have drawn more!” A grin splits his face instead of the simple smile he was sporting, his hand grasping at your wrist. “Don’t worry, don’t worry! When I wash this off in the bath, I’ll make sure to draw something else so you’ll know I’m wishing you goodnight. What’s your favorite flower? I’ll draw it right on my arm!”

Without much more fanfare, Agni gently waves the two of you off up the staircase, saying you should go talk while he gets some snacks. Of course, this seems to agree rather well with Soma, who tugs you on up the stairs enthusiastically.

“Come on! My room is very relaxing, and Agni is the best cook. We’ll have such a great afternoon getting to know each other!”

You had no other obligations anyway, and if you did, you’d be canceling them. This is much more important; you’ve met the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with, and you desperately want to learn everything you can about him.

So you allow him to pull you along, though you do pause at the top of the stairs. “O-oh, Soma! Soma, by the way, this thing you wrote… it’s Hindi, then, isn’t it? What does it say?”

“Ah…” He takes your arm again, putting it side by side with his. With a fingertip he points at each word. (Amusingly, he seems to say it haltingly, as if even he has to decipher his own penmanship.)

“Here, it says… ‘Once upon a time’.” His face colors slightly, a blush standing out just a little against the sienna hue of his cheeks. “I’m not sure where I was going with that, actually, but… it makes a cute story to tell people!”

Well, he’s certainly not wrong about that.

Maybe you’ll have to doodle him a little picture and message later, too.

[serpentariusart]

Art Fight- Making good references

In my opinion, a solid character reference is one of the best ways to encourage people to draw your character. Seeing a promising design in the thumbnail and clicking to find a reference that is difficult to parse really demotivates you to draw a character. A simple reference in a static/casual pose without shading is a good way to make sure other artists can easily understand your character with a glance. However a good ref does not need to be a detailed ref, which is what I want to touch on a bit in this post.

For the purpose of this little guide I'll be using Bryophyta, who's reference I wanted to update anyway. This is her current reference. Despite the pose not being very stationary it's actually pretty decent at showing her anatomy, however her design has changed since and my art has improved, hence my desire to update her reference.

This is a more recent image of her. All too often I see people on AF upload characters who's only image are something like this. This is not a good character reference! The shading means its more difficult to pick her colours, in particular for artists who use the colourpicker tool to get accurate colours. If you do shade a reference (sometimes it can help) it should be kept minimal so colours are still easy to figure out. Her pose obscures a lot of her anatomy such as her feet and makes her wings more difficult to understand. Her sitting pose also makes it hard to figure out how long her legs are.

This is still valuable art to include for your character, but it shouldn't be the sole image you rely on.

A good reference does not have to be detailed or clean! This is a sketch I threw together in about 20 minutes. Even just doing something like this is super valuable for helping other artists understand your character. You may know how they look in your head, but everyone else doesn't. So it's good to make your character as understandable as possible to others.

If you want to take it further there is plenty more you can add if you feel up for it. Cleaning up the art and making it more detailed would be good. Her claws for example aren't coloured in that image, and the way her cheek fins are drawn doesn't show the colour of the spines. A little more of extra effort to those spots can pay off if you're willing (though again, isn't necessary!).

Back front and side views for humanoid/anthro characters can be great, and for characters with wings showing what the dorsal (topside) and ventral (underside) look is very useful as well. Another little detail you could add is a more up close and detailed look at a certain part, such as the eye. It's ultimately up to what makes sense for your character! Here are a few other references of varying complexity to show you what you can do.

More polished, and also shows off her teeth + tongue. Also has little bits of flavour text to help flesh out the character more.

A simple front and side view with a little bit of information. Clean and polished finish.

Front, side and back view, along with flavour text and information.

Front and back view, along with an alternate outfit, detailed views of certain body parts and even more informational text. Note that while this one has shading, it doesn't get in the way of picking out colours.

Ultimately how much effort you put into your references depends on what you're up for, and you shouldn't push yourself too far. A simple sketch like the one of Bryophyta is sometimes all that you need.

[xoruffitup]

Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work. 

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.  

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Plus One, Ch. 2

Previously on Plus One

It oscillated every other minute between being an amazing idea, but also being the worst idea of all time, and Lexa was mostly exhausted of bouncing back and forth. It might be easier, she decided, if she just got herself on board with it being a good idea, but a deep, gnawing hole seemed to manifest itself in her gut at the very thought of seeing her ex. 

As she went through the motions of finishing the day, of doing inventory because it was Wednesday, Lexa tried not to distract herself with the thoughts of her impending trip. In just forty-eight hours, she’d be face to face with Costia, who she hadn’t seen in months, who she avoided before occasionally running awkwardly into each other at mutual friends’ events. She’d come face to face with her ex who was getting married. 

And she was going to do it with a complete stranger on her arm. 

With a heavy sigh, Lexa tossed her clipboard on her tiny desk in the storage closet and plopped down in the squeaky chair, tipping it back with a wail. Her sister was the worst. 

It was quiet in the shop, closed for just a handful of hours, Lexa always took a day to inventory and repair the damage of the week. She enjoyed the late evening work, when her workers were gone, and the shop was empty and full of dreams. No one knew how the cabinets stayed so clean, or how the scratches on table tops got sanded and fixed, or how the wobbly table by the window was miraculous cured one day, or how the ceiling fans got dusted, just that it all happened, and Lexa was off, meaning she didn’t come in until at least ten, the following morning. 

But Lexa sat in the chair and let her brain do the same mental gymnastics it always seemed to do in the new quiet she found herself craving. She opened her laptop and ignored the awaiting spreadsheet, and instead opted to look over the answer Clarke had given her to the “Know your partner” quiz Clarke googled and made them both do. A mix of basic information and Newlywed Game style innuendos, Lexa filled hers out after a bottle of wine and anxiously waited for Clarke’s. 

That was what started the daydreaming. She scrolled through Clarke’s answers and furrowed, doing her best to memorizing all that she could, as if she’d be tested on it all, as if it’d be impossible to believe she could be happy with someone like Clarke. 

And when those thoughts started to seep into her brain, Lexa leaned back again and dug the tips of her fingers into her eyes. 

In a week it’d be over. 

And with that and a deep, heavy sigh, Lexa looked at the screen again and went about learning Clarke. 

She started professionally, of course, looking at her corporate page and resume, because this was, if not anything, simply a business transaction and Lexa thought it was easier to parse a person if she didn’t actually have to fall for her. 

A graphic designer at Anya’s firm, Clarke held accolades and a long list of references. The link to her work showed a wide range of commercial campaigns and a certain amount of talent evident by her list of upcoming projects. A graduate of a small, private, liberal arts university, her academics leaned heavily scientific, which was a surprise until Lexa read some of the answers in the survey about a degree in physics given up for art. 

Lexa promised that she wouldn’t have looked at Clarke’s Instagram if Clarke hadn’t requested her first. She wasn’t someone who lurked, or at least she thought she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be someone who snuck around, digging through someone’s past, analyzing every filter and caption like a private investigator. But then Clarke appeared. 

And there were pictures of Clarke with friends getting drinks on a rooftop. And then the one with her laughing and baking. Or the Christmas party where she was on a corporate Santa’s lap, smiling so wide her eyes were shut. Despite herself Lexa found herself smiling along with the girl in the pictures. The one who went hiking with a pack of dogs, and the one who seemed to always be eating something. The one who had a lot of friends and enjoyed making them smile and laugh. The girl who posted storie about her morning run, and the girl who seemed to have a healthy work life balance. 

Lexa closed the webpages and stared at her inventory for exactly two seconds before curiosity won again and Lexa started looking at Costia’s account. There were the standard pictures of her pre-wedding planning. There was Costia working out. There was her new bride-to-be, happy and smiling at a gift for her birthday. 

And then a throwback that made Lexa’s stomach drop as she stared at a familiar image of Costia smiling in a bikini on a beach. It was from the last trip they took. Lexa was the one behind the camera. 

Three weeks after that picture was taken, Lexa walked in on Costia and a girl in the middle of the afternoon. Right in their own bed. Only to then discover it’d been going on for months. And it wasn’t the first. And then, Lexa didn’t remember much except that she moved into the apartment above her coffee shop and woke up one morning alone on sheets that weren’t familiar, in a room full of boxes. 

It seemed even more difficult to start inventory after that shot to the gut. 

But her phone went off, and Lexa leaned back in her chair after shutting the laptop again, wondering if that sinking feeling ever went away when it came to someone you love, or loved, or once loved, even for a moment. She didn’t have anything to compare it to, and she didn’t have any idea what love really was. 

It felt like a deep wound was scratched open, the scab pulled back, and a burning numbness gnawing at the bottom of her spine. It felt like it would swallow her whole, and Lexa hated, more than anything, giving anyone the power to do anything as such over her. 

Hey! Do you think this will go with your outfit?

An image came next, of Clarke in a dressing room wearing a very pretty dress, with very messy hair with her tongue sticking out. Lexa didn’t notice the gnawing feeling disappear. 

We don’t have to match completely. 

We do! Don’t you know how to date?

Not really. 

Another picture of another dress came a moment later. Clarke was pretty. She was happy and silly and kind. It felt oddly normal, for as crazy as the whole scheme actually was. 

I like that one, Lexa wrote, making sure to add a heart-eyed emoji to emphasize her point. Maybe that was flirting. Maybe she was allowed. She definitely needed more rules. 

Good, I do too. It matches your tie, you know? And these heels will still leave you a little taller than me. 

Sounds good to me!

Kind of excited. I guess I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow. 

I’ll be the one at the bar. 

I’ve heard it’s possible to find your soulmate at the airport. Something about the crossing of paths and time and space. 

If my soulmate is a bottle of wine, then I reckon I might. 

A love story for the ages. 

Lexa smiled once more at her phone before tossing it to the side and letting her head drop to the desk. With a groan she growled into her hands and broke it down. She just needed to make it seventy-two hours. That was it. She could sleep for about twenty of those. She could drink for another twenty or more, if she really tried. 

But this was it. This was the end. 

And regardless of the weight of everything else, there was something satisfying about knowing it was almost over. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The airport was absolutely teaming with bodies and people, weaving their way through the swelling crowds, loading and unloading the terminals at a constant, steady thumping rate, so regular one could set a watch to the heartbeat of the building. 

Clarke adjusted her bag on her shoulder and tapped the ticket against her thigh as she moved through the security line. The nerves were coming for some reason. That was why she was at the airport three hours before the flight. She was anxious and needed a stiff drink and a few moments to catch her breath. She needed to escape the whirlwind she’d allowed herself to create. 

Carefully, she made her way through the airport, checking the boards and finding her way to a seat in the empty waiting room. Not even an attendant waited at the kiosk. 

Once again, she let herself awkwardly scroll on her phone, learning everything she could about her future date and weekend plans. 

Lexa was nearly non-existent online. She didn’t have any pictures of herself. She rarely posted anything on her personal account, and when she did, it was just a book or a coffee or from a trip. She wasn’t one to enjoy being the center of attention, but when it came to her shop, she made sure to post almost daily, highlighting her employees and their recommendations, she made share to highlight events, she made sure to be as active as possible. 

Anya had already warned Clarke that her sister was devoted to her work. She’d poured all of her effort into being successful and part of the community, and Clarke admired it, she just wished that there was more for her to see. 

And so, once more, she flipped back to the long line of questions they’d filled out before giving up and gazing out the window at the planes coming and going. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to think that she was doing something nice and good. It was an act of charity. It was the shake up Clarke needed and was selfishly trying to package as benevolent. 

“You beat me, and I’m usually the first one here for a flight,” Lexa observed, walking up to Clarke, stealing her from her reverie. 

“I like airports. Just waiting for true love to stroll up and introduce themselves.”

Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets, her bag balanced on her shoulder as she cautiously looked around, surveying the empty terminal slowly. Clarke watched her look around, smiled at the innocence of it. Enjoyed the way she ran her hand through her hair, mussing it up a bit and tossing it to another side. 

“No one likes airports,” Lexa shook her head before taking the seat beside her. 

“I do. They’re romantic.” 

“Romantic?” 

“You can get onto a plane, and a few hours later, you’re hundred of miles away, and it’s different weather, and it’s a different time zone. You can go to sleep in a different state. How can you not be romantic about that.”

“It’s a tin can filled with recycle air.” 

“But there are peanuts.” 

That did it. Lexa cracked a smile to herself and relaxed a little. 

“I was going to be the first one here. Surprise you with coffee, but you beat me to it.” 

“You are quite a good girlfriend. Someone clearly trained you well.” 

Lexa shook her head, somewhat bashful, somewhat reserved. There was always something right there, just below the surface, obfuscated by a kind of resolve to never give anything away, not at any price. Clarke read it between words in their texts and emails, a glaring finality in the simple pixel of a period. 

“Can I get you a coffee? Two creams, two sugar right?”

“You don’t have to--”

“It’s early and I’m trying to be charming. Allow me to somewhat repay you for this whole endeavour.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, darling.” 

With the term of endearment, Lexa nodded, grinning into her chest as she stood and made her way across the terminal in search of sustenance. Clarke watched her take out her phone, texting her sister no doubt. 

Once more, Clarke resumed the digging on her own, scrolling on her own phone at old pictures on Lexa’s profile. She was ready for fun, and she was ready to crack at that facade. 

“I don’t know if this will help,” Lexa sighed as she sat down. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.” 

“Oh this won’t be good for me either,” Clarke said as she took a sip. “I’m a fairly nervous flyer.”

“And yet you let me get us both coffee.” 

“You made a good point, and I’m prepared to be paid back all weekend.” 

With another grin, Lexa leaned back, her arm going on the back of the chair that Clarke inhabited, naturally, with ease, with a level of comfort. 

“Are you ready to tell me the story?” 

“Which one is that?” Clarke turned to look at her date, returned from an absent moment. 

“How we met.” 

“How we met,” she nodded, her smile bordering on mischievous. “That’s simple. Don’t you remember? It was a very blustery Tuesday, and I was trying to escape the wind and rain. I almost tripped coming into your coffee shop, but you happened to be sweeping, and were kind enough to catch me.”

“You’re severely overestimating my reflexes.” 

“Fine. I ran you over and we both ended up on our asses in the middle of the coffee shop. Coffee everywhere.” 

“Sounds pretty likely.” 

“And I knew right there, I was hooked. Those eyes, all angry and annoyed at me for not looking where I was going, despite my persistent defense that I’d been assaulted by the weather.” 

“Why do I have to be the angry one?” 

“Wouldn’t you be though?” Clarke returned, daring her to be contradicted.

“Maybe,” Lexa agreed over the lid of her cup, fretting with it nervously. 

“So I crashed into you, and you bought be a coffee. I turned up every day after that until I finally asked you out. You took longer than I would have liked to answer me, but I accepted it anyway, and we’ve been madly in love ever since.” 

“And when was this?” 

“About eight months ago.” 

“How’s it going so far?” 

“Splendidly. I’ve already met your sister, who it happens that I work with, which is super convenient for everyone.” 

Quietly, Lexa sat there, going over the story, going over all of the past eight months of apparent bliss in her head. Clarke watched her furrow before softening, her eyes not seeing, but rather looking through the window as a plane took off and another landed. The softening of her features was soon met with a perplexion, a slight, gentle contortion of the brow and the lips, a tightening as a kind of confusion overtook the ease of the entire story. 

“Is it that easy?” Lexa asked quietly, turning her head toward her date. Clarke cocked her head, waiting for more. “Is all of it… just… a wind? Waiting for someone to just ask you out? Is it that easy? Does that happen to people?” 

“It can. How does anything happen in the world? It just… does. The universe is just a series of things happening, all of the time, right?”

“But is it that easy?”

To her credit, Clarke thought about it. She flexed her jaw and took a deep breath before slowing letting it go as she wondered if it really was. 

“I don’t know. Maybe it can be.” 

“How?”

“I guess there has to be a balance to making things happen and letting things happen.” 

“I don’t know if I’m good at either of those things,” Lexa confessed. She sat up straighter a moment later, afraid of her honesty, and surprised more by how easily it came out. 

“I think you can be.”

“That’s probably too kind.” 

“We’ll see.” 

Clarke rubbed Lexa’s shoulder, rubbed the middle of her back between her shoulder blades until she reached the collar of her shirt, where she massaged her neck. She tensed before relaxing, and Clarke didn’t stop, just rubbed there gently, slowly until she knew it was enough and she trailed her palm back toward the seat. 

It was right there, they just didn’t know it.

[sagaciouscejai]

And i fucking missed my shit cause of these asks

God fucking damnit you demand peoples time over a serious topic and you waste it with these hard to parse together asks that you could for the love of god PROOFREAD BEFORE YOU SEND THEM ITS A FUCKING TEXT POST and them your point is “kagewaka’s friend was a pedo for drawing sexy adult cirno cause i see cirno as a child regardless of interpretation this makes me uncomfortable and im not gonna give the artist the benefit of the doubt on it being an adult depiction cause of this and not understanding the difference between ‘obvious pedo art with a button that says ‘were all adults!’ on it’ and art thats more ambiguous going ‘ this is an age-up the depiction is not of a child’ or nothing at all cause the art is clearly showing an adult body or even when it isnt as clear cause like people have different body types and art styles and they may not fucking come out looking perfect or might ride that line but thats why we have that gray area in the first place since like people are trying to improve their art and may not be there to specifically depict the body type well given their skill or comfort level its that fucking steven universe art controversy again where they like drew rose quartz or connie wrong cause they had a limited art style from lack of experience and a desire to stay in their stylistic comfort zone and like yeah you need to work on that but FUCK ME ART IS HARD AND EVEN THE SIMPLEST SHIT LIKE THAT CAN BE HARD TO GET RIGHT ON A PIECE THAT WAS MOST LIKELY JUST A BIT OF FUN FOR SOMEONE TO DRAW A CHARACTER THEY LIKE IF THE NOSE IS SMALL OR THE DEPICTION OF ROSE ISNT FAT ENOUGH ITS NOT ALWAYS A FUCKING BLATANT RACIST INTENT EVEN THAT SIMPLE SHIT LIKE TWO LINES OR A BODY TYPE IS DIFFICULT TO GET DOWN ON A PIECE RIGHT, ESPECIALLY IF YOU DONT HAVE A LOT OF CONFIDENCE OR ARENT TRYING TO BRANCH OUT

YOU THINK THIS SHIT IS EASY CAUSE YOU CAN LOOK AT THE DAMN PICTURE? YOU THINK EVERY CURVE I DREW WAS 100% INTENTIONAL, LIKE IT WAS PLOTTED ON AN EQUATION ON A TI-93 AND JUST PRINTED OUT THAT SPECIFIC WAY BY MY HAND? I WOULD PAINT ANIMATED MONA LISAS IF NOT FOR THE LIMITATIONS OF MY FLESH. FUCK OFF.

intentionality my ass. not every artist is striving to reach your definition of what constitutes adult or not. not everyone is so trigger-happy on this shit, even if they may feel the skeev of an age-up on a kid character. These are not consessions and apologies, they're facts of the current world that you can't just smash into and hope to eradicate with these flimsy ass asks that you rapid fire off, with poorly worded justifications. With these fucking headcanons you hold so dearly that you feel them canon yet can't explain them when asked. God i hope this anon is who i think it is cause i'll look like a fool otherwise with that last sentence but the shoe is looking like it's fitting.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

hi, Rachel. I've been wanting to write flash fiction for a while—not too long ago I started writing short stories but always on the longer side. But I can't understand exactly the difference between a longer and shorter piece, or how sometimes a short-short feels as vivid as a longer one, and google just states the obvious (write less words :D). So I know you've written a few and I really respect you in this art. Do you have any tips or help? even if you don't know, do you have resources? thanks

I wrote this post earlier but it ! disappeared! EDIT: I also thought I posted this but apparently I did not?? maybe I did?? I don’t know?? sorry this took forever! but luckily this is like my favourite thing to talk about in writing! The difference between flash fiction versus short short fiction and long short fiction really all comes down to structure, so I’ll share three different structures I’ve made up to help illustrate what I mean. (So keep in mind this is all made up by me and therefore may not make sense lol!)

I just wrote up a post on sticking to shorter word counts with @ellatholmes​ which you can check out here!

Disclaimer: While I’ll be separating short fiction into three categories (flash fiction, shorter short fiction, longer short fiction), even the nuances in these categories require different things. For example, even though stories between 1k-3500 words may count under shorter short fiction, a 1200 word story is going to have completely different needs than a 3500 word story, and the more practice you get, the more obvious these needs become. 200 words could be the difference between 50 different structures, so take these as a place to start but also the best way to understand how to write shorter short fiction is to do that: don’t allow yourself to go over a certain word count, and if you must for the story, reflect on what structure it may be following.

Usually when we’re taught story structure, it looks something like this:

(via skyword)

This obviously works, but visually, at least for me, can be a bit confusing because that inciting incident is just a flat plane that seems to propel rising action, when in reality, I think it’s a peak in itself and where the entire story lies.

1. Shorter short fiction structure (1000-3500 words)

We can break down this structure in 4 steps:

0) regular boring life before the story starts (not written in)

1) inciting incident (story starts here are as close to here when things get interesting)

2) rising action - story’s events happen here and lead to...

3) short changing moment (can be a decision, a realization, anything where the character “changes” in some way from who they were at the start of the story)

4) Denouement (usually very short, depending on the story this can be a paragraph or 1-2 sentences)

This kind of story has a bit more room than the second option to have more defined “moments”, but still it is quite compact, so efficiency is still required.

2. Shorter short fiction structure (modified - usually works for flash fiction)

This structure is 3 steps! It’s very similar to the above, but just slightly compressed with some different terminology I’ve made up lol!

0) regular boring life before story starts (not written in)

1) inciting/disruptive event (something happens here that disrupts the character’s life << NOTE that I’ve opted to call this the inciting/DISRUPTIVE event because in shorter short fiction, there may not be as much space to have a fleshed-out “event”, per se, but rather, just enough space to describe something [even in one sentence] that somehow disrupts that character’s life. For example, in my short story “Fig” the disruptive event is that someone dies--we don’t see this happen on the page, but it’s implied right away).

2) consequences of disruptive event (aka rising action, except I like to think of this as the consequences to that disruptive event until you make it to the inevitable end)

3) inevitable end (some change should occur to the character over the course of the story but it may be subtler/a smaller change)

This structure is more in line with the structure of a “moment” (how I like to view flash fiction in general). There is more concentration on this moment rather than setup, and usually you only get the information that is absolutely vital for understanding (even more so than you usually do in other kinds of short fiction).

Longer short fiction structure (3500+ words)

0) regular boring life before the story starts (not written in)

1) inciting incident (story starts here are as close to here when things get interesting)

2) rising action that leads to...

3) moment of change (this might be what you’d call the novel’s climax, but I view this as a moment when the character changes somehow from who they were at the beginning of the story)

4) denouement

This structure differs from the others as it has a bit more room to explore character change (obviously in that moment of change). The character might have a more defined, longer moment of “lift” or a reflective moment toward the end of the story, where that “lift” may be much, much shorter in the previous two structures.

I think the secret to getting a shorter short story feel as vivid as a much longer one is to understand their skeletons so that you’re not making your story top heavy or bottom heavy with thinness on either end (which I’ve 100% done in the past)! Redefining shorter short fiction is VITAL though. I don’t think people talk about this enough--the differences between each kind of short fiction. Flash fiction is just an impression, a little dip into a moment that still feels satisfying without being over 1k words. That’s a very difficult task, because it all depends on your idea. Some ideas are simply not flash fiction ideas because they intrinsically require more room to exist. When I wrote Mama Lives in My Mouth which is flash and is coming out in Young Voices soon so you can see that yourself, I immediately knew the idea of a mother living inside her child’s mouth would NEVER work in a piece longer than 1k words. I didn’t think I could sustain that idea, which meant I immediately knew it would be a shorter piece. This is a muscle you’ll develop as you write short fiction, and is a muscle I’m still developing myself! I know it’s difficult to parse whether or not an idea is a longer or shorter story when you’re first starting, which is why sometimes, it’s best to just jump in and fail. Failing is how I learned how to write a story and the differences between these three structures and when I may pull on one and not the other. At the end of the day, these structures are essentially the exact same. It goes INCITING INCIDENT > STORY’S EVENTS THAT LEAD TO > MOMENT OF CHANGE/REFLECTION/CLIMAX > STORY ENDS, but the placement/duration of these events differs, which is really only something you can understand when you do it!

I hope that helps! If anyone has any resources on flash fiction, please send them my way! <3

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #16- All the Greatest Love Songs are Secretly About Heroin

Dang, been a minute since we got into the series proper. What all happened again?

Oh. Right. That.

…So anyway, let’s brush up on our Ultra Magnus history!

There was a massive fight on top of a spaceship. Swoop was there, Impactor was there, Overlord was there, Heretech was there, Killmaster was there- shit was lit. Ultra Magnus was doing his thing, though it looks like this was before he got LASIK done, because he’s got a visor on.

Then Ultra Magnus got shot in the gut and fell off the spaceship. It was so scary his hand started spasming.

Later on, we return to a place we’ve seen before, albeit from the Decepticon side.

Magnus, your badge isn’t up to code, my guy! Better get that sorted, before your current self comes out of his medically induced coma, invents time travel, and comes to beat you up.

Also, Pious Maximus? What is your friggin’ DEAL, bro? What the actual hell is your deal?

All the K-Cons start falling out of the sky, and Magnus orders everyone to take cover, as a familiar-looking bomb that literally has his name written on it lands bang on target. It’s such an intense experience, his hands start spasming.

Later still, Magnus is in the middle of dealing with the Simanzi Massacre, and it looks like his visor’s seen better days. Hopefully it was a reading pair, and not something he actually needed to see. Rotorstorm is also there, because his character apparently only exists to suffer. Magnus and his team rise from the muck and the mire, coming ashore right on top of a Cybernought, which promptly fries Magnus with its hand lasers. He gets so crispy, his hands start spasming.

For anyone having trouble parsing the scraps of rended metal that used to be Rewind of Lower Petrohex here, allow me a moment to break him down. That cylinder in the lower left corner is his camera, the wire coming off of it is where it plugged into his head, and that squarish chunk with the clean, round hole in it is probably part of his helmet. The other chunky bits I couldn’t tell you what they are, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that Chromedome absolutely put the dog to sleep with that blast last issue.

Inside the Lost Light, Swerve’s trying to be a nice guy by putting on some tunes for Ultra Magnus, who got his spark shot by Overlord last issue, but all it’s really done is make Ratchet get distracted.

Magnus is in a bad way, as was established by First Aid last issue, and it doesn’t seem like Ratchet’s having any more luck than had been predicted. Swerve’s here for emotional support, and also because he’s got medical training. Tailgate’s here for cleanup duty. Drift’s off in the corner making snide remarks about the medical equipment, probably because he’s mad his legs are still off.

Drift looks like he’s been chiseled out of stone here, and I kind of love it. Forget softboi uwu Dwift, I want more of this guy who’ll bite into a teddybear cactus and not even flinch.

Agustin Padilla’s back on the scene for this issue, and he’s decided that everyone’s going to be elongated in as many ways as he can manage in 20 pages. Tailgate and Swerve? Tallest they’ll ever be in the series. They’re as tall as Cyclonus, and he’s a fucking space jet. Someone’s got a chevron? You better believe that thing’s scraping the gotdang ceiling. Drift’s kitty-cat ears almost never fit into the panel, because those suckers are LONG today. It’s like they’ve all been put through a taffy-puller. There are a lot of little quirks with this art, but this is one I can kind of get behind, if only because it’s so distinctive.

Getting back to the story, Drift’s talking about the Death Clock here- no, not the animated band from Adult Swim, but an actual medical device that can calculate the moment a shrinking spark will give out, down to the second. It only measures the lifespans of the terminally ill, so Swerve hasn’t accidentally given himself even more depression by sticking his little hands in the shiny light without a thought as to what the device he’s messing with might do.

Ultra Magnus has about ten days to live. This makes Tailgate incredibly upset, because he, unlike everyone else on the ship, hasn’t experienced the horrors of war and death.

Ratchet’s right, though. There’s certainly a chance that Tailgate, who’s been shown to react to stressful situations by having panic attacks to the point of blacking out, could have a very severe response to what is his first major catastrophe. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder usually isn’t an immediate development, but being proactive about your mental health is never a bad thing if you can swing it. Hell, with how bad the Overlord situation was, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rung was booked solid long enough for Tailgate to actually have time to develop PTSD.

Rodimus is on the intercom to address the situation that just took place, because man oh man, was it a doozy. He intends to hold an inquiry to figure out just what the hell happened and how Overlord got on the Lost Light to begin with. As he tells everyone what’s going to happen, our focus shifts to Chromedome, who’s standing on the outside of the ship, staring off into space.

Man, I hope Chromedome’s on the front half, because this is a fucking grim scene to witness.

Skids comes out, having been looking for Chromedome. Trailcutter of all people pointed him in the right direction- which I suppose makes sense, given that he was on the Ethics Committee on Kimia. He probably would know Chromedome and Rewind decently well by this point.

Chromedome turns around to show off his mourning black Autobot badge, freshly photoshopped onto his chest for our viewing pleasure. It’s especially blatant when contrasting with Padilla’s rougher linework style.

Skids asks our brand-new widower how he’s holding up, and Chromedome says he’s fine, which is funny, because the other day he was all:

Chromedome has a moment of reminiscing, playing connect-the-dots with the stars like he and Rewind used to do all the time.

Skids, they were married for 250,000 years.

Skids might actually have been one of the worse people to have found Chromedome, if this is what he’s going to say, and then immediately leave. He’s so awkward and clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be there. Does he feel weird about Chromedome knowing more about him than he himself does? Does Skids not have access to any of his memories related to mourning? Geez, I hope nobody needs him to help them through a difficult emotional time for a good while, because this was painful to watch.

Back inside the ship, Rung’s come over to Rodimus’ room to see what all the crashing and banging is about. It would seem our dear captain’s upset, and has decided to work through his frustrations by destroying his private quarters, perhaps in an attempt to summon the wrath of Ultra Magnus, thus saving him through the power of his own mess-induced rage. Rung comes to sit with Rodimus, I guess giving up his search for Chromedome, and the two of them discuss Magnus. Specifically, they discuss Magnus’ memos, and how much Rodimus despises receiving them, because they make him feel like he’s not doing his job right. He stopped even opening them, they made him feel so bad.

If you subscribe to the headcanon of Rodimus having ADHD, you could potentially read this as being a manifestation of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. As it is within the story proper, Rung’s decided to ignore this tidbit of information to get at the more pressing issues, like why exactly Rodimus felt the need to wreck his room.

This is about the point where the art for Rodimus becomes roughly 90% spot blacks, and it’s highly suggested that Rung get out while the getting’s good.

Oh, well this is going to be awkward.

Later on, we’re at the funeral. There’s five coffins, though not all of them actually contain a body. Everyone’s here to see their friends off, even Cyclonus, who was invited to the wake by Chromedome himself. Awful nice of him to do that, given their history.

The lineup in the front row is a bunch of chatterboxes, and they prove that very quickly as Swerve, Skids, and Whirl theorize on the contents of Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase, which is also here at the funeral. Swerve swears himself to the duty of finding out what’s inside, on threat of death should he fail.

A short time skip is had, and Rodimus is revealed to be wearing his ceremonial funeral cape and terrifying vampire arm spikes to this shindig, as he sends Tripodeca, who is surely the most beloved of all Autobots, off with as many kind words as he can muster in the time they have. Everyone says goodbye, and we get to Rewind’s turn. Rodimus has a moment of pause, as Rung gives him the most withering look I believe he will ever produce in the entirety of the run of MTMTE/Lost Light.

Rodimus concedes to giving Rewind the credit for saving everyone from Overlord posthumously, as well as Fortress Maximus and Chromedome, labelling himself as a failure on that front. Chromedome comes up to the podium for a few words on the love of his life.

…well, it’s been a long day for everyone, I suppose.

Chromedome sits back down, right next to Brainstorm because they’re besties, as Brainstorm stares him down like he knows something Chromedome doesn’t.

Probably because he does.

After the funeral, Brainstorm pays Chromedome a visit, finding him in the middle of spring cleaning. He’s taking all of Rewind’s stuff and shoving it in a box to be destroyed.

Does it count as foreshadowing if it’s like a page before the reveal? I guess so.

Chromedome is trying to ease Brainstorm’s mind about the inquiry Rodimus is conducting, saying that the guy ought to talk to Drift before he gets TOO antsy about spilling the beans- perhaps a touch too late there, Domey- but Brainstorm isn’t here for any of that.

So you’re saying Chromedome/Dominus isn’t going to be endgame.

Turns out Chromedome’s been collecting dead spouses, and he wasn’t even aware of it. When faced with this inherent truth about his personal relationship with grief, Chromedome only has this to say:

Time for a pop quiz!

When the burden of life is too much to bear, what is an addict most likely to do? Is it:

A) Quit cold turkey

B) Seek help for their addiction

C) Relapse

If you answered C, you get a gold star, and a harsh reminder that addiction is a fucking monster that will devour your life and meaningful relationships, leaving you with nothing but itself for company.

Chromedome has had a problem with injecting since he got good enough at it to get his own set of finger needles, and he’s been completely dependent on other people to get himself to even close to stopping the habit. His character bio on the crew roster page has, up until this point, outright claimed this.

Now Rewind’s gone, and there’s really nothing stopping him from just taking that pain away. Brainstorm certainly can’t do it, though not for lack of trying.

Chromedome says that he won’t go through with his plan, but Brainstorm knows he’s lying, because they’ve done this song and dance before. At this point, asking Chromedome to not inject is just a courtesy to the deceased.

No wonder Chromedome invited Cyclonus to the funeral- probably figured why the hell not, since he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Brainstorm gives Chromedome a data slug- the last one Rewind ever made, shot through the door just before it sliced Chromedome’s arm off, and found by Fort Max. Brainstorm leaves, probably to go prepare himself for that awful, hollow feeling he’ll be getting the next time he sees Chromedome.

Over in the shuttle bay, Rodimus is addressing the crew, Chromedome is retconned into being Toxin because he’s not supposed to be in this scene, and Drift is named as the sole conspirator in the Overlord debacle. Rodimus just starts tearing into Drift, and while he does, we cut over to the medibay, where some zombie nonsense is going on.

Golly, seems like there’s some flavor of undead on the Lost Light every other week, doesn’t it?

Rodimus strips Drift of his Autobot badge and tells him to get the fuck out.

Back at Chromedome’s room, he’s decided to take a gander at what Rewind left behind, plugging the data slug into the computer.

Man, this part always makes me a little weepy.

I can’t do Rewind’s final message justice, not in the choppy format I present here- which is perhaps a bit ironic, given the nature of how it’s presented. In the final moments he had, Rewind pieced together a plea for Chromedome to love himself, and to remember that he was- and still is- loved. He shared his own fears of them being apart, and how he knows how hard the coming days will be. He begged Chromedome to be kind to himself, because he- whether he believes it or not- has grown from the person he was in the New Institute.

As this message plays out, we see Drift swarmed by furious Autobots, who get violent as he makes his way off the Lost Light, only to be helped back to his feet by none other than Ratchet, before climbing into a shuttle, surely never to be seen again.

Shane McCarthy slipped Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet all the way back in MTMTE #4. This is the start of the pining portion of their relationship.

God, just- there’s a reason Roberts has claimed this issue as one of his best, and it’s this fucking message. Please, if you somehow have gotten to this post without reading the comics- well, first, how, and second- go and READ THEM. I promise it’s worth it, they’re beautiful and funny and full of heart, even when everyone’s being a dick to each other.

Rewind leaves Chromedome with one final piece, which probably didn’t feel like enough, but was all he could manage in the time he had left.

I’m basically legally obligated to post this panel.

Let’s take a moment to consider Rewind as a character. He’s an archivist, and one who’s gotten very good at his job over the millennia. The guy’s OBSESSED with history, and recording as much of it as possible.

Which stands to reason that he knew about Chromedome’s past conjunx endurae. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It would be public record- even if you don’t necessarily get a marriage license on Cybertron, Chromedome would have been on the paperwork with these other guys somewhere, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to answer the question of “Who’s this guy you lived with for several thousand years?” Would imply some… rather unfortunate things.

Rewind also has a hard time letting go of things- he gets jealous of Chromedome’s past relationship with Prowl any time it’s brought up, and he’s still looking for his ex-husband after what’s probably been at least a million years. That, combined with the way Rewind lives his life- you know, recording every single moment of it- gives me the impression that he really, really wouldn’t enjoy the idea of being forgotten. He wants Chromedome to stop injecting because it’ll kill him, of course he does, but he also wouldn’t want to be erased.

The video cuts off, leaving Chromedome alone. It’s all up to him now, whether Rewind gets to stay in his heart now.

Chromedome/Dominus is still on the table.

With THAT crisis of love dealt with, we move back on to that weird zombie nonsense we saw a little bit ago. Ultra Magnus is missing. Odd, that.

Ratchet, how many times are your patients going to have to disappear from your medibay before it’s less of a “them” problem, and more of a “you” problem?

As Ratchet goes off to search the rest of the ward, Tailgate accidentally bumps into the death clock, which gives him a nasty little surprise: apparently he’s only got three days to live.

Yeah, this is the point where the comic kicks into overdrive, plotwise- there are no brakes on this train anymore.