#zero attempt was made to try to fit this into the art style of this show!

[the-girl-who-didnt-smile]

KING OF THE DEAD

Description (translation: disorganized rant) below cut

MAN I have a lot of different ideas I want to get out, but before getting into that, I want to preface this by explaining what my VISION here is. Because I am completely insane, I REALLY like imagining “what if my DeviantArt OCs were in the canon of Hazbin Hotel”, but I should clarify what I mean by that… I do not mean that I want them to appear in the main TV series. That would be pure madness, brother.

THEY ONLY HAVE EIGHT EPISODES IN A SEASON!!!

…What I was actually envisioning is that the Papa Legba characters appears in, I don’t know, Season 6 of this show, or later… He’s a flashback character and/or connected to Alastor’s mother, or even Alastor himself. Everyone else would just get relegated to a spin off after the end (or at least, outside) of the main series. The pirate crew / jazz band can flesh out the setting of Earth and possible realms that exist outside of Heaven and Hell… You could release, I dunno, comics or, some Hazbin Hotel light novels about them (I am open to ideas…) I feel like there is so much raw creativity in Hazbin Hotel, you could make tons of spin offs to develop various aspects of the setting and lore!

But here’s a fun thought… What Hazbin Hotel turns into this long running show with tons more episodes? Aside from Big Papa, I think the second coolest Voodoo-related thing that could be put into this show is either (1) characters inspired by the Erzulies (Ezili Dantor and Ezili Freda), or (2) characters inspired by Les Trois Esprits Du Cimetière:

That being, Baron Samedi, Maman Brigitte, and Gede Nibo.

(by which I mean, characters inspired by them. Like with the Papa Legba character, I think their names should be changed)

Since they are spirits of the Dead, they are actually the ones that fit the best into the setting of Hazbin Hotel, which takes place in the afterlife. Additionally, there are a number of sources that describe Gede Nibo as queer himself (this is something I plan to write about at a later time…). 

I was going to say that I think Baron Samedi might actually be a character Vivziepop is planning to put in this show, due to the number of characters wearing top hats, but I think the actual reason they wear top hats is because Lucifer wears a top hat… I think they’re Borrowin Lucifer, not Samedi… 

(this is really funny to me… I like the idea of Lucifer being a fashion icon in Hell)

In my VISION, the Papa Legba character would be more inspired by how he appears in 19th century New Orleans Vodou and folklore of the broader American South in the early 20th century; in contrast, “Les Trois Espirits” would be more inspired by their portrayals in Haitian Vodou, to honor Gede’s origins in Haiti. However, I would not design these characters as shown above, but use the alternative concept instead.

Having taken more than two seconds to think about this, I actually think the concept presented above (i.e., “The Baron of Death” and “Maman la Vie”) was conceived in poor taste, and that the alternative concept (i.e., “Baron of the Dead” and “Gran Maman”) is for sure the superior one. My brain cells were firing a little too fast back there… 

To put this in perspective, imagine if I came up with a character named “Mother Miriam”. She’s not Mother Mary, but she wears a hood to make herself look like Mother Mary, serves a similar role to Mother Mary, and is obviously inspired by Mother Mary. Not only is she transgender, but she’s a crazy sadomasochist too!

Atheists are probably laughing their asses off at this bizarre comparison, but come on guys… l-let’s be grown ups here…

The above is obviously offensive to Christians, so why is it any different with Vodou? Although I have written about New Orleans Vodou has been unfairly denigrated by American media, I have hypocritically treated Vodou without the same level of respect as Christianity and other major religions. We non believers still have to approach the lwa with the same level of respect as the Saints, etc…

It’s not just the Baron character who is problematic, but Maman. Previously I had claimed that Maman Brigitte was a Caucasian lwa with Celtic origins and that she is very promiscuous, but this is probably just misinformation. This and other comments I made regarding Baron Samedi were things I read from a source that turned out to be not reputable, I apologize for being so sloppy in my research. I think the confusion might arise from the fact that her name is spelled similarly to the Irish Saint. But if you look at traditional Haitian art, Gran Brijit is not portrayed as a Caucasian.

Here is how the lwa are portrayed by Andre Pierre:

A most exquisite painting! As you can see, Pierre employed a range of skin tones, where some of the lwa (e.g., Ezili Freda, Damballa Wedo) are portrayed as lighter skinned. Maman Brigitte is shown next to Baron Samedi in the bottom right corner.

Here is closer shot of Maman Brigitte, alongside Baron Samedi and Gede Nibo:

Maman Brigitte is not Caucasian, biracial, or light skinned. Actually, she is portrayed as dark skinned, where she, Baron Samedi, and Gede Nibo all have the same skin tone. Additionally, she is not promiscuous, but a dignified and reserved older woman. 

Andre Pierre is not the only Haitian artist to portray her in this manner. Here’s how she’s portrayed by Gerard Paul: 

And Roudy Azor: 

These match the description provided by Nwokocha, where she writes: “Gede, like all lwa, has many incarnations, including Bawon Samedi, a guardian of the cemetery; Gran Brijit, an old woman, keeper of the cemetery, and Gede’s partner; and Gede Nimbo, a male spirit who is often honored by queer ­people and who appears as an effeminate dandy.” (p. 37)

Elsewhere: “Gede’s delighted embrace of sexuality is an undeniable display of male desires. The spirit manifests in multiple genders, like his female counterpart Gran Brijit, but only the male version are so explicitly sexual. No female deity in the Vodou pantheon expresses sexual desires so emphatically or bluntly in a ceremony. There are female spirits who are coy, mysterious, vengeful, or wise, but not one proudly proclaims her sexual desires…” (p. 39-40)

The following paragraph provides important context to non Black readers: “During the centuries of enslavement in Hispaniola, enslaved Black women were subject to routine sexual abuse from White enslavers and others with the power to dominate them. To justify this commonplace brutality, Black women were constructed as hypersexual temptresses and prostitutes who were always available for sexual conquest...To combat the construction of Black women as hypersexual, their sexual desires were ignored entirely, characterized by reductive binaries that placed whores on one side and good, chaste Christian women on the other: there was no room for the actual desires of real women."

Source: Nwokocha, Eziaku Atuama. Vodou en vogue: fashioning Black divinities in Haiti and the United States. UNC Press Books, 2023.

Furthermore, I’ve noticed that Gran Brijit seems to have several things in common with the orisha Oya, to the point that I wonder if Gran Brijit and Oya have a shared origin… This is something I’ve been meaning to research… 

For the above reasons, I think it was tasteless of me to portray the Maman character as a younger promiscuous woman. I know she is sometimes portrayed by artist as a younger promiscuous woman, but I would rather portray her as she is traditionally portrayed as an older, sexually reserved woman. I don’t know, I just think this is the respectful approach to take since Americans get things wrong about the lwa all the time. This would also aid in adding body and age diversity to the cast - she contrasts with the other women by being a heavier set, older woman. 

Long story short, the alternative concept is the better one. Unfortunately, I basically just wrote myself into a corner here. I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS I just don’t foresee myself going back and retconning the shit I put into my stupid fanfiction. I REALLY regret not thinking of the alternate concept earlier!!!

… But like, bro… This fanfiction is SO FUCKING WEIRD!!!! Alastor is just, the wrong race and the wrong gender in this, and my DeviantArt OC owns his soul… Has anyone managed to one-up this in terms of sheer weirdness???

We are so far into wacky non canon land… WHERE ARE WE????!!!!

I don’t even care. Wacky non canon land can be so much fun.

Case in point: Alastoria.

She is so much hotter than Al’s canon hot ass girl form, it’s not even close!

You can just take this as this weird AU where Lavi and Lanmò became gods instead of demons. But yeah. It’s staying in my weird ass fanfiction, but this is expressly something I would NOT want to be put in the canon of this show. HOLY SHIT!!!!!!! THAT WOULD BE CRINGE!!!!!!!

WHAT WAS I THINKING??????!!!!!!!!!!!

…Sorry, boys. I only got two brain cells and they are both very deranged. But this is what I love about fanfiction: It is allowed to be stupid and shitty and cringe!

So yeah. Leave this concept in cringe fanfiction, where it fucking belongs!

…With that out of the way, I should probably explain what is actually happening in these doodles.

THE UNDERWORLD

So originally I had planned to just completely off-screen the sexualities of these two characters, because they’re SO OUTRAGEOUS you can’t actually show what they’re doing…. It’s also really easy to just slip and make this guy cringe (exhibit A: my…my Deviantart account…) But queer sexuality is such a big part of Hazbin Hotel (also Helluva Boss) it really doesn’t make sense to off-screen their sexuality. This represents my attempt to depict their sexualities in a non-cringe manner (mission failure imminent…)

They rule over another realm called “The Underworld” that predates the existence of Heaven or Hell. They handpick humans to join them in the Underworld, where they become Gede instead of Demons or Angels. (nominally, Baron is the one who decides, but in terms of real power they are equal… Maman can veto his decision, she’s just never done this because she’s always agreed with his decisions…)

The Underworld has several zones to it:

THRONE ROOM: It’s just that. 

I was picturing it like, if a man wants to speak with them, Baron sits on the throne; if a woman wants to speak with them, Maman sits on the throne; if a nonbinary person wants to speak with them, either one or both of them might appear. They make their avatars huge so they completely dwarf whoever wants to talk to them.

If the “court” (the “court” has no real power) is assembled for some important decision / law, Baron sits on the throne while Maman sits on his lap. It’s a joint rulership and the two have equal amounts of real power.

Let’s just plagiarize Thanos while we’re here!

ZONE 1: It’s basically a big ballroom house. The reason it has this ball theme is because the leader of the Gede is a character called “Queen of the Damned” (see below) and she’s a drag queen. Baron hates the music that is played in this zone, but he still shows up because he really likes Queen of the Damned. 

The whole idea is it’s like a bunch of drag queens, and their ruler is a drag king… or really, an ex-drag king (he just fully transitioned to male…)

Large sections found in Queering Creole Spiritual Traditions summarize the association between AMAB and AFAB gender/sexual queerness and the Gede, in which the authors make the comparison to ballroom culture.

Source: Conner, Randy P. Lundschien, and David Sparks. Queering Creole spiritual traditions: Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender participation in African-inspired traditions in the Americas. Routledge, 2014, p. 62 & p. 92

The chapter “"Look at Me!": Dressing Gede to the Nines” in Eziaku Atuama Nwokocha’s Vodou en vogue describes spiritual “female-to-male” transformation that occur when a mambo is “mounted” by Papa Gede; a connection to drag kings and the transmasculine spectrum is easily made. 

Source: Nwokocha, Eziaku Atuama. Vodou en vogue: fashioning Black divinities in Haiti and the United States. UNC Press Books, 2023. p. 35 https://www.google.com/books/edition/Vodou_en_Vogue/_2qLEAAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&pg=PA35 

In her travels to Haiti, Elizabeth McAlister observed the following:

“It is in these wee hours of the morning that the Gede spirits (pronounced GEDD-eh) will come to « monte » (ride) the dancers…Women, « ridden » by the lwa (spirit), will become men. Grasping walking sticks–some with penises carved at the top–they will begin the gouyad, a grinding, whining dance of the Banda, a stylized parody of sexual intercourse. Judging by the songs some of these women-turned-men are singing, you will guess they have become homosexual men. As the songs for the Gede continue, men will also seem like masisi, « faggots. » One man even seems to have become a women, who is busy gossiping primly to a group of her fans…Gede are living corpses, great healers, great workers, and the ultimate drama queens in a divine theater of power and gender. The Gede spirits display, mimic and caricature gender and sexuality in order to get at cultural knowledge and memory, the pain and truth of which only they can withstand. The Gede are almost always dark complected spirits of former colonial slaves and if you get to know them they will tell you how they were tortured, how they suffered and how they died. At the ceremony, after you have been ridiculed and forgotten, and as you rise to leave the next morning you can still hear the Gede inside, singing with nasal voices, « Miyo miyo miyo, faggots and dykes, Oh . . .  »”

Source: McAlister, Elizabeth A. "Love, sex, and gender embodied: The spirits of Haitian Vodou." Love, sex and gender in the world religions (2000): 129-146. https://africultures.com/love-sex-and-gender-embodied-the-spirits-of-haitian-vodou-5719/ 

Katherine Smith observed something similar, where she writes: “Gede mounts individuals as well as small marauding bands of vagabon who may pound on tombs and yell obscenities at the dead. In 2007, one such group of young men dressed in drag, fellated bones, and danced flamboyantly as the crowed cheered “Gede Masisi!” (Gay Gede!).”

Source: Smith, Katherine. "Dialoging with the urban dead in Haiti." Southern Quarterly 47.4 (2010): p. 83 

Hence, the decision to give this zone a drag queen (and king) theme.

ZONE 2: This is just a massive orgy. ALL KINDS of demonic debauchery take place here, but there are actually zones within this zone. On the outskirts, whatever’s going on is relatively normal/vanilla, but as you get closer to the center that’s when shit starts getting more and more wild. That’s because at the center is Baron and Maman are. They always have at least one (usually, a lot more than one!) of their avatars into the center of this massive sex pit… the CRAZIEST shit ever is happening there. But because they literally like every form of sex, you will sometimes spot one or some of their avatar(s) further away from the center, doing less crazy shit. You can tell where they are because they force you to listen to heavy metal. 

I was picturing it like they recruit the CRAZIEST, MOST MASOCHISTIC succubi and incubi from the Lust ring, and/or they make weird shadow projections that they have sex. They probably just turn people into zombies and have sex with those two… They’re SO crazy!!!

ZONE 3: This zone is in the very bottom, darkest pit of the Underworld. It is simply called THE DUNGEON. It is exactly what you think it is.

This is the other thing that these two like to do to people who disrespect them. You have to make up new vocabulary for the forms of mind fucking (literally!!!) forms of torture that take place here. Everyone who goes through this is broken in every imaginable sense of the word, and other ways that were not previously imaginable. It is inevitable that you will eventually die from whatever is being done to you. But they just go and fetch your soul and drag you back to THE DUNGEON. You have immortality now, but in the worst way possible… There is no fate worse than this. This too, is Real Hell.

…This is why these two are arguably extremely evil. Some of the people in THE DUNGEON were literally en route to Heaven, but they worked a REALLY long shift just before they died, so they rolled their eyes at these guys a little, and this was their final fate.

I don’t even care. To the contrary - I think these guys are extremely considerate! These two are just BROADCASTING how dangerous and insane they are. If you were dumb enough to disrespect them for any reason, that’s just Darwinism in action!

(it’s great because most of the people who suffer this weren’t the most evil people, but the ones who were both evil and stupid… I wish this is how real life worked!)

The reason they have this trait is because Croco D. Boy (One Piece) has this conference room but it’s actually just a torture dungeon that he uses to torture Buggy D. Clown for sport.

…It just dawned on me that there’s a decent chance Sir D. Crocoboy is a crazy sexual sadist, and that he got to clap Robin's cheeks back when she was still hot.

Now I’m feeling nothing but unbridled hate envy and rage!

Crocodile literally has the single worst Logia in all of One Piece, and he got bodied by PRE GEAR Luffy!!! He is so fucking cringe!

He’s so evil too. Why didn’t Luffy just kill this guy???

BANSHEES

Because I am literally the dumbest person in the entire Hazbin Hotel fandom, I really want to believe that Hazbin Hotel is gonna go full Marineford Arc and build up to this HUGE all-out war between Heaven and Hell.

ANNE FRANK VERSUS TE D. BUNDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

…So the “banshees” are the native species to the Underworld. They are called “banshees” because in this weird fanfiction, the Maman is a transracial adoptee who (in her past human life) was adopted into an Irish family. (it’s supposed to be meta on the portrayal of Maman Brigitte’s race/ethnicity + a liminal identity since she’s a spirit of liminality between life and death)

Although they’re called “banshees”, they actually have more of a Haitian influence. They are very playful spirits, who have two forms. In their non-combat forms, they dress in purple and white dresses in the style of Fet Gede dancers. They are empowered by Baron and Maman, which grants them healing and killing abilities. In their combat forms, their bodies become completely encased in Baron’s killing magic. They wear masks inspired by the art of Frantz Zéphirin, and they wield scythes. Scythes are kind of stupid weapons, but they wield them because the Spirit of Death of New Orleans (quite possibly, Baron Samedi) was described as wielding "a scythe in one hand and a small wooden coffin in the other". (p. 127)

Source: Alvarado, Denise. Witch Queens, Voodoo Spirits, and Hoodoo Saints: A Guide to Magical New Orleans. Weiser Books, 2022.

The whole idea is that it’s an Underworld counterpart to the Exorcists. In the event of an all-out war, I like to believe that Heaven is WAY stronger than Hell… Sera just BODIES Lucifer and there’s a bunch of super-strong Archangels + Seraphim + Cherubim, etc… that have yet to be revealed. Charlie would be a SERIOUS underdog and would need to recruit forces from other realms to stand a chance. So she would have to try to win over Maman and get this army on her side. 

I specify Maman because I think it is really easy for the Maman character to get overshadowed by the Baron character, where she’s just his wife and doesn’t have an important role on her own. I think the way to avoid this is to make them “yin and yang” - masculine and feminine counterparts. Baron interacts with men, Maman interacts with women, and both interact with nonbinary people (someone further down the masculine spectrum interacts with Baron more frequently, while someone further down the feminine spectrum interacts with Maman more frequently). For this reason, I tried to design Maman’s personality in a way to make her interactions with Charlie fun. At first, you think this is another Emily archetype, but the more you learn about her it’s just like, wow… I didn’t know psychopaths could be this nice!

A comment on transgender representation: Previously, I commented on the invisibility of trans men in media (more broadly, the trans masculine spectrum). I’m a little worried that this might have come across as me saying that transfems have good representation in media. That is not at all the case - especially when race and class accounted for.

This is a really dense topic that I can’t do justice in a couple short paragraphs, but key point: The worst, most offensive portrayals of transgender people usually involve transfems. So while there are more positive examples of transfems in media, these are necessary to undo the damage done by gross negative portrayals.

Take ONE PIECE for example. 

In One Piece, there is a horrendous portrayal of trans women in the form of Kamabakka Kingdom. Literally, just a bunch of hideous men in dresses, and they’re all crazy sexual predators… it’s AWFUL!!! (although, not gonna lie… I was entertained by Sanji getting thrown here because I think pre-timeskip Sanji is really annoying, and it was funny seeing him cry in his own personal Hell…) This was later rectified with Kikunojo, who is one of the best non-stereotypical portrayals of a trans woman from a recent anime! In the middle of being stereotypical and non-stereotypical, there are the characters of Bon Clay and Ivankov (who I would describe as nonbinary; not binary trans women) (Emporio Ivankov is one of my favorite characters in all of One Piece…) However, there are no examples of trans men, or nonbinary trans mascs. (Yamato is NOT transgender… that was always just mistranslation + people having no understanding of Japanese culture/fictional tropes) This exemplifies the hypervisibility of transfems and invisibility of transmascs.

The invisibility of transmascs (more broadly, masculine of center AFABs) is reflected in the language of the Haitian “M Community”. An important detail: I have been using terms that originate in the Western bourgeoisie, such as “LGBTQ”, “transmasc”/”transfem” and “AFAB”/”AMAB”, but these are not words Haitians use to describe themselves - especially those from the Black proletariat. There are several words to describe those of the “masculine sex” (assigned male at birth / AMAB). These individuals experience extreme prejudice and violence - including the former president of KOURAJ, who was killed in 2019. There is one word used - usually, as an insult - to describe anyone of “the feminine sex who has homosexual relations, even episodically”, including “all heterosexual persons of the feminine sex having homosexual relations”. There are no words to describe masculine of center lesbians, or individuals on the transmasculine spectrum. This disparity is found in many world cultures, and is most pronounced among the lower classes. The reasons for this are so complex, I will spare you the dissertation.

Long story short, good and diverse representation of transgender and gender nonconforming (TGNC) people is lacking - especially at the intersection of race, class, and gender. As far as I can tell, the vast majority of good representation of transfems involves white people or the whitest POC imaginable (usually, white looking mixed race people, or white looking East Asians) or it’s non humans who are racially ambiguous. Whenever nonwhite transfems are shown, they are usually given Eurocentric features (e.g., pale skin, straight and/or blond hair, etc…) and not given narrative importance. Not to mention, the extreme sexualization and fetishization of these characters, where it’s often some nameless, vilified prostitute... It’s a terrible message to send to transfems of color!

Helluva Boss actually has a very positive portrayal of a trans woman in Sally Mae. She’s literally the most important relationship Millie has, outside of her husband Moxxie! Her design is up there with Kikunojo… actually, I think her design is better, since she’s voiced by a trans voice actress. But I think it would add something to include transfem characters who are not racially ambiguous - either, former humans who are unambiguously Black, or nonhuman characters who are racially coded to be Black. 

That’s why all of the Banshees are transfeminine; or, in Haitian terms, part of the “M community”. So is their commander, “Queen of the Damned” (described below). That’s why all the Banshees wear women’s clothes but have flat chests, which become visible in their combat forms. They should all be voiced Black transfems and/or drag queens.

In real life, there is a broader range of gender presentation in the “M community”; I chose to make the “Banshees” more feminine presenting so that they could serve as a visual counterpart to the Exorcists. 

Similar to the celebration of Halloween, Fet Gede is a big holiday for them, and the other members of the Underworld. I made up the “Banshees” because Hazbin Hotel has native species to Hell which contrast with the former humans (Sinners); hence, the Underworld has a native species (“Banshees”) and a species of former humans (“Gede”, described below)

GEDE

The second species is called “Gede”. They are former humans - not native to the Underworld. Unlike demons and angels, their appearances closely resemble how they appeared as humans, but it is a superficial resemblance. Their bodies are A LOT more durable than human bodies, to the point that the average Gede is a lot stronger than the average angel or demon; however, there are a lot fewer of them. Banshees outnumber Gede by a large margin. Both species are very strong because they are empowered by Baron and Maman’s magic. 

The “Gede” are supposed to be similar to how the Gede are described in real life, but if it is offensive to call them “Gede” I would be fine with renaming them to “Undead”. 

DEEPEST INSANE FANFICTION LORE, but as described here these are the conditions for joining the Gede:

You must have paid proper respect to Baron and Maman your entire human life. 

You never sinned once* OR withstood all of Baron’s attempts to scare you without ever once feeling afraid

*STRICTEST IMAGINABLE definition of the word “sin” is used, including “sinful” thoughts and dreams.

For you see, the reason Baron likes to terrorize people with nightmares is because, well… it’s totally just because he likes scaring people. But it’s also a test to see which humans are worthy of joining his army. He doesn’t think anyone who got scared of him makes the cut.

On top of these conditions, they might deny someone entry just because they didn’t like that person, for some reason… for these reasons, there are very few people who ever got to join. Most of the people who join were en route to Heaven, so a lot decline. This pertains to why most of the Gede are Black, dark skinned, and LGBTQ… specifically those who were rejected by their families and don’t have loved ones in Heaven.

Everyone who joins the Gede is immediately forced to agree to have their hands cut off. Unless you never sinned once, Baron does not explain why. He just orders you to do this as the initiation ritual. If you don’t agree to this, you’re denied entry. But if you agree, the process is very painful but extremely quick. He cuts off your hands, but immediately replaces them with his and Maman’s magic. Maman’s magic is the most potent healing magic in existence, so the pain is over in an instant. The reason this process is so quick isn’t because Baron actually cares about your wellbeing (unless you never sinned…) it’s so that there is no loss of dexterity. Joining the Gede does mean you are joining his army, but for the most there really aren’t any wars… For the most part, you kinda just get to party, become really powerful, and don’t have to deal with the corruption in Heaven or Hell… it’s a pretty good deal! But you are forced to wear a top hat, because these two are dictators…

They also force humans to crossdress and act like the other gender for their own amusement. (I don’t know if this is legit but Maya Deren and Zora Neale Hurston described the actual deities doing this shit… absolutely diabolical…!)

Unlike the Banshees, the Gede can be of any gender identity. I was picturing a wide range of underrepresented gender identities and sexualities being shown, like “Ezili’s children” and masculine of center lesbians. Together with the Banshees, they form an army that is commanded by “Queen of the Damned” (described below)

If anyone was curious, the man shown here is actually a minor character in my fanfiction. He’s actually not representative of the typical Gede, as he’s supposed to be a tribute to Doctor John Montenee, but for what it’s worth his sexual orientation isn’t defined and is open to interpretation. Here’s a description for him: https://the-girl-who-didnt-smile.tumblr.com/post/757897862098124800/the-fate-of-the-preacher 

QUEEN OF THE DAMNED

The commander of the Underworld army is called “Queen of the Damned”. She was loosely inspired by Gede Nibo, but she has been gender bent to be on the transfeminine spectrum. (at some point in the near future, I plan to write something about Gede Nibo and why I previously claimed that he is queer…) Actually, she was more inspired by the documentary Des hommes et Dieux / Of Men and Gods, where her appearance is loosely based on one of the interviewees (Innocente…I just liked her style). Although I’m using the pronoun “she” to refer to her, she’s nonbinary and uses any pronouns. I was picturing her being someone who has Haitian heritage but is part of the diaspora, since many of the characters in Hazbin Hotel are from various ethnic groups in America. For this reason, I think she would identify as both part of the M Community, and as transfeminine. Naturally, she is herself a houngan, and an extremely powerful one at that.

Aside from Alastor’s mother, this is the only other human who never sinned once. In her human life, she was rejected by her family, and died in a horrific act of violence. Because she was completely sinless, this is the second and final human in all of human history that Baron ever felt sorry for. He was keen on having her join him; she agreed, as she had no one waiting for her in Heaven, and felt comfortable around someone who is also transgender. 

This is the third reason Baron defaults to a transgender avatar: In the millennia he’s existed, he’s observed that a disproportionate number of the people who die in unfair acts of violence are Black and transgender. On some level, his heart is moved by innocent people who die violent and cruel deaths; hence, he chooses a transgender form to make trans people feel comfortable in his presence.

Hilariously, Maman does not have this trait. Well, she’s actually not completely heartless…. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for her to find love. But she’s in love with the embodiment of Ruthlessness itself. For this reason, she has literally never once felt sorry for any innocent person who has ever died. 

“Queen of the Damned” died in the most fucked up and unjust way ever, and yeah… Her heart was unmoved by this. She actually does care about “Queen of the Damned”, but she had to WARM UP to her after she died…!

Her boobs are awesome, and she’s the craziest person in all of existence…

This is basically my dream woman.

Baron and Maman are so OUTRAGEOUSLY overpowered, Baron can just one-shot this entire army in an instant, like it’s nothing…So can Maman, since her pink magic completely destroys their combat forms. I think they just made this army for their amusement, but it wound up becoming a gift for “Queen of the Damned”. 

Queen of the Damned likes these two so much that she didn’t just cut off her hands - she cut off her nose and ears, and tattooed markings onto her body to make herself look like Baron. Out of all the Gede, she styles herself most like him. The doodle shows her combat form; in her non-combat form (not shown) she wears a top hat and has a heavy metal theme. She likes to play around with gender presentation, where she often mixes masculine and feminine elements. Additionally, the sword she wields changes shape, where the pink handle extends and the black blade shrinks. It turns into a magic staff with potent healing powers. Hence, Queen of the Damned is a very powerful combatant and a very powerful healer. She only has a fraction of Baron and Maman’s powers, but uniquely she can kill and heal.

Her combat form and name are both inspired by Aaliyah as Akasha… IT”S AN ASS KICKING UNDEAD VALKYRIE!!!! (she is also inspired by Marvel Valkyrie… this is just a rough draft though…) Basically, the Banshee army is a counterpart to the Exorcists, so she’s a counterpart to Adam. Only, she is for sure stronger than Adam. Her raw attack power is at least as strong as Adam, and she’s WAY smarter and more ruthless in a fight. She is extremely ruthless in a fight because she was personally trained by Baron. She’s also a very smart battle commander. Charlie would have to win over Maman AND Queen of the Damned in order to form an alliance with this army. 

Because this is his favorite human ever, if she’s ever in mortal danger Baron appears out of nowhere and immediately kills her opponent. But it’s only if she’s in mortal danger (someone on the opposing force has to smart enough to capture her without attempting to kill her). Baron likes her so much that he would totally just kill anyone who inflicts any sort of harm on her, but she’s such a ruthless fighter she hates it whenever he gets involved. Hence, the compromise of him only intervening when she’s in mortal danger. He doesn’t give a shit about the rest of his army…everyone else can go fuck themselves

This is the other thing that can trigger Baron’s Berserk mode, other than Maman dying. In theory this should be impossible, but if Queen of the Damned somehow dies, he goes Berserk. This only happens if he isn’t fused with Maman; if he’s fused with her, her presence calms him down enough to halt the Berserk Mode (in other words, there are no conditions where you can BERSERK MODE DYAD… that would be the most broken thing ever!!)

(if you haven’t deduced this, all these ideas would get remixed and somehow reworked into the alternate concept. In the alternate concept, the Underworld has a Haitian gangster theme to it, but there’s still this zone that’s inspired by ballroom culture and they celebrate Fet Gede… I have an alternate concept for the Gede Nibo character called “Port au Prince”, which I plan to post soon…)

Also I forgot to mention this, but that’s not rum they’re drinking… it’s capsaicin extract. They just diluted it in ethanol (extracted from kleren, no substitutions) to make it look like rum.

They just do this to trick people into thinking it’s rum. This is a very weak drink for them.

[clock-onyx]

Coral!

INFO (SHORT):

Name: Coral

Age: ~ 28

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual Ambiamorous

Height: 6'0" / 182 cm

Species: Siren (Resembles an axolotl)

Title: Natrual Inhabitant (Born in Taxlis, travelled across the planet before coming back)

Occupation: Singer (Rock, Pop etc)

Status: Alive

INFO (LONG):

SHES REAL!!!!! OH MY GOD FINALLY!!!

I wanted to go a little away from my god, demigods and such and showcase some redesigns of super old ocs!!!

This is YET another difficult redesign I kind of nailed for once, been tryna diversify my characters from the same repetitve traits and shes one of the recent ones!!! This one took a few good attempts (I still might change some stuff)

Shes got a banging girlfriend that I WILL post soon since her design is done aswell!

Coral's one of my oldest ocs, the FIRST one for my world, actually, I didnt have the heart to change much of her apperance so I didnt

Shes a singer that made a small group with two of her friends aswell as her girlfriend to entertain Taxlis with their music, all having diffrent tastes in it. However, theres a much more sinister motive to why they came to Taxlis out of all the cities to stay in and entertain the crowds

In the group, she's... quite the loud one, very extroverted and open about herself, has zero care of what others think about her (unless if its about the ones shes close to), making her the most popular out of all of them. Although, that can make her stubborn with stuff

Shes also the one who constantly attempts to have a goth or scene look but fails since there arent many options in Taxlis, BUT shes trying!!!!!!!!

FUN FACT!!!!!!! Sirens in Taxlis use large pieces of algae as a wig, since they cant grow hair, its a very common thing amongts then

I know for SOME the redesign might be weird or off, but I like it, I think it fits her a lot <|:333

AND ALSO!!! She has 4 external gills, I just kept two for a more experimental style

HERES A NO BG VERISON TOO!!!

OLD ART!!!

Im actually so shocked that I dont have more pictures of her wtf 😭😭😭

[firecooking]

Here me out, in the tugs fandom there are 3 depictions of captain zero

1. Shitty mustache ( looks like it's pencil drawn)

2. Mustache that curls into a zero ( it curling to represent how he's the antagonist and also it resembles a 0 )

3. No mustache ( because he's either terrible at facial hair or artist just didn't draw him with one)

In your au is there an inside joke that zero can't grow proper facial hair?

I have been a conosuier of human Captain Zero's for years, and that theory does hold water!

I think the only Zero I can think of until a few that cropped up around this year with a beard that was drawn more than once is Dan-the-countdowner's over on deviant art. God speed Dan you where like the only guy drawing human Captains for years.

Also, your asks are always on deck in my ask box when I have a few minutes of free time, please don't think I'm ignoring them, sometimes it takes me a while to formulate my answers. Also I don't often do drawing requests, but I make an exception for my TUGS au's!

Anyways, on to my au! There will be a detailed explanation under the read more but tldr:

When Zero was a younger man he always kept himself clean shaven, after his time in he army he attempts to grow a mustache, which was universally hated and every one regarded as a bad move. Post War 1918-pre Zip 1920 is lovingly known as the rat years in the photo albums that reside around Zero Marine Bigg City.

Before the Great War Captain Zero clean shaved every morning, brushed out, cared for, and styled his hair, and generally looked put together and intentional despite living with rather wild, wavy, longer hair. I picture him around a 2b/2c if he makes an attempt to care for it but when he's not doing anything particular its just a frizzy/fluffy 2a, he has pretty fine hair so it's never consistent unless Zero makes the effort. His hair keeping short also makes it less wavy than it might be if he let it grow out.

He'll never admit it but he never really liked looking anyone in the eyes as a young man, and he still doesn't like it. His long bangs covering his face made him feel more calm and helped hide the fact he was avoiding eye contact.

When he signed up for the draft, Star had made a few passing comments about his hair, but Zero never thought anything of it. He's always remembered Star had had longer hair, and the Army wasn't that different to the navy, right?

After he was drafted and was in training, one of the first things that happened was his hair was trimmed back to fit in his helmet better and his daily grooming routine was reprimanded as a waste of time for a medic. He was told to change it or lives would be lost. So change it he did. This change consisted of not doing his hair routine save for 'basic maintenance' [ie, none] as needed, and only shaving one or twice a week, his facial hair never did grow very fast and was rather sparse anyways.

When he got back from the war, he vowed to grow his hair back out, but he was a different man returning home.

With his new found free time in the mornings meant he could always find time for tea and some breakfast. Making for a slightly less 'tired bitch of a captain' according to his three tugboats [data gathered from eaves dropping on their nightly poker games]. With his shaving routine fully altered and him no longer being picky about being clean shaven, he decided to try out facial hair, his father always maintained a beard, so why couldn't he? Genetics were on his side! He often forgets he's adopted.

It never did grow in fast, or very full. Even with Zorran's best efforts to help, Zero never really had more than a slightly bushy mess. And his hair never really got back to it's same length/health after the war, he always blamed it on the fact it was cut back, and not the fact he was a depressed mess after Europe who had stopped grooming almost entirely for years.

When Zip was due to be christened, Zero finally went down to a barbers shop to get himself cleaned up for the photographs at the urging of his tugboats and mother.

The barber took one look at him and told him the mustache needed to go and that his hair was initially damaged from lack of care during the war and then exacerbated by lack of care after. Zero on a whim let the man do what he felt was right, it was a new decade after all.

Zero's up cut was initially very low maintenance for him and he quite preferred it that way. Zero didn't keep up steam with his hair care the same way he did before the war, but he could manage to brush it in the morning to keep it from getting as bad as it had been.

Once Zasha comes into his life and he realized she has much curlier hair than he ever did [a mix of 3 b/c], he starts to pick hair maintenance back up as he learns how to take care of her hair. He's gotta be a role model and a good father after all. He still never gets back to how he was before the war, but at least his hair is healthy instead of oily, frizzy, and out of place.

More importantly he's taking regular showers and grooming again. His tugs count both of those things as a win.

He never figures out why he was less particular about the way he looks after the war. He was living a life of crime before the war. In the army he never injured a soul or took a life, unlike his days collecting debts as an 'accountant.'

He doesn't see how the war to end all wars could have changed him.

[voskhozhdeniye]

So @bobbyhillrealness is doing a zine on artists among their friends and family, and has sent us questions to answer about our art. One of the questions is, "Three songs that would describe your work?"

I figured I'd share my answer on here too. I'll do three songs that have been/are influential to my music, and three of my own that I look at as moments where it felt like things clicked for me.

Nine Inch Nails - Vessel: Year Zero was my first NIN album. Trent and Radiohead are probably the two groups that after being raised on major label top 40s as a child, and well into my teens, really made me pay attention to aspects of being an artist that I had never considered. There's a Thom York quote about Radiohead opening for R.E.M., and how while musically R.E.M. aren't a huge influence on Radiohead, being around R.E.M. showed them how to carry themselves as a band. Both NIN and Radiohead have had nasty battles with record labels in the past. Trent has been trying to put out a live DVD since 2008. His ex record label, which he hasn't been on since 2007, has blocked each attempt. In 2008, he "helped" fans sneak cameras into multiple shows. He then "leaked" his personal audio recordings of those shows online. The fans made and distributed their own DVD. Both bands, in different ways, taught me to value the creative process. As for the song in general, I had never heard anything like that at the time. That song, and the album in general, really made me pay attention to what I was listening to. I started questioning what I was listening to, and wondering how it was made. After years of listening to Trent's music, the thing I've noticed is that he is very good at fitting noisy, experimental sounds, tones and ideas into compact pop music structure. Closer sounds like a children's merry go round in hell. My Movement modular synth was built to sound like Vessel.

DJ Shadow - Stem/Long Stem: Every song on this album is made up of samples from other songs. So the drums might be from one song, the bass from another, a guitar sample from one place, a piano sample from another, and so on. Earlier, I'm referencing an answer to another question not mentioned in this post, I spoke about how I gather scraps from everyday life for my art, particularly for my writing. Shadow is the musical equivalent, gathering samples from all over the musical spectrum to build new compositions. I think of art like papier-mâché. You take small pieces and build towards a grander piece. Trent and Miles Davis, when he was alive, worked in a similar way to Shadow, except instead of using other people's samples. They record their bands playing, and then chop up, sample, and rearrange their own recordings. That's where I'm at with my music now.

Yellow Swans - Going Places & Pan Sonic - Teurastamo: Yellow Swans and Pan Sonic are groups I've learned about in recent years. Both have influenced my music in different ways. Yellow Swans are noisy, walls of sound. When I first started building the modular, the goal was to build a drone machine. As I built it, the Daft Punk fan in me also wanted a say in its construction. There was a point where I found these two influences to be conflicting. I have always loved Daft Punk's Rollin' & Scratchin'. While that song is a good example of that combination, I imagined noise damaged dance music, equally indebted to both styles. Pan Sonic made dance music, but they were equally interested in harsh noise. Early Yellow Swans incorporates drums and at times sounds like really aggressive '90s Busta Rhymes beats. I haven't really looked up what either band's creative process was, but through listening, I've picked up things that I've attempted to try with the tools and knowledge available to me.

As for my own music.

December: There's a joke among modular synth users. There are multiple formats of modular. The version I use is named Eurorack. It's been nicknamed by some as Eurocrack. This is from 2017. It was the first of my now monthly State of the Artist patch. I was less than a year into everything at that point, and was spending money on modules unsure if I actually had talent, or if it was the money hiding deficiencies. Looking back, that was a very simple patch, but my inexperience made it a good teaching moment. I think that was the first thing I made that made me feel like it wasn't the money. Honestly, at times it has been money holding me back, but a lot of times it's just been inexperience, which is resolved with time, and the lack of ability to transfer thoughts into tangible art. I feel like your creative process is learning how to overcome that hurdle.

The Future: This was April 2020. I had just gotten the music computer right before Christmas and was still learning my way around. I had formed an early process when working on the computer, and was working at getting more comfortable with it. This is a very simple track. It's just a short sequence repeating over and over while I manipulate the filter type and filter cutoff. I'm very interested in catharsis through art. This was an attempt at something like Nils Frahm's Says.

Nature Walk Daydream: This is longer than it needs to be, but oh well. This is from April, and it really conveys the DJ Shadow everything goes in the pot thinking I spoke about earlier. This starts with multiple loops of birds I recorded early one morning. Eventually, a synth that resembles the bird calls joins in. As the song slowly unfolds, drums come in and the bird calls become a part of a beat. The idea for the song is that you're taking a walk through the woods and begin to daydream. When it goes back to just the birds, it's you being snapped out of the daydream.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hi I’m here to review the Clementine comic. it’s not good.

Does this even need an introduction? You know why I’ve gathered you all here today. You know the comic exists, and you probably know that it’s not great and we’re all upset about it. 

Myself included. I am not okay. At all. 

Skybound could’ve literally spit in my face and I’d come out feeling better than I did reading this comic, because this comic is an insult to the original Telltale games and Clementine as a character. 

This comic is a fancy fanfic. Glorified fanfiction. It’s not canon, and Skybound and Tillie can pretend that it is, but it’s not. Bold of them to assume we’d just accept this from people who didn’t work on the original games and never wrote for Clementine before, and based on this comic alone, any chance of us taking it seriously is gone. 

I’m gonna go through every single page, every panel, of this comic and give you my review. So I guess if you’re worried about spoilers [though at this point why would you?] then be warned, spoilers for the entire comic ahead. 

I also wanna add that I have nothing against Tillie Walden. I know a lot of dingdongs are harassing her on insta over this comic and that’s not okay. You telling her how much you hate her isn’t going to change anything. If anything, you keep being assholes to her and she’s just gonna block everything out, even things simply critiquing her work in hopes that it helps her improve. 

You’re allowed to be upset about the comic and share your feelings about it, but don’t take it out on the actual human being like that. Besides, like I’ve said before, if Tillie wasn’t gonna make the comic, Skybound would’ve found someone else to do. This was coming no matter what because Skybound wants that coin. 

That being said, I’m not going to hold back my opinions on this comic. Skybound and Tillie made this comic, they put it out there and asked for money for it, therefore I’m allowed to explain why it’s garbage as well as ponder over the questionable intent and whether or not Tillie actually has played these games. Y’know, it’s like how I have nothing against Kent, but sometimes he says things I disagree with and well, y’know how it goes. 

Alright, this is gonna be long, so let’s go--

The first few shots we get are of the school, two people sleeping, and Clementine’s empty bed. Nothing super note-worthy, we have no idea who is sleeping in the beds, it’s just there to establish that it’s early and everyone’s still asleep. 

The drawing of the school looks fine? Not super accurate, but I can give it a pass since it’s a few years later, I assume. What I can’t give a pass is how you managed to already mess up on the first page of your comic. 

Because..... why are you implying that Clementine’s room is upstairs? First of all, seems kinda dumb to put Clem, who has only one leg and has to walk with crutches, upstairs. Also, if you’ve played TFS and paid any attention to where her room is actually located [the dorms] then you’d know there isn’t any stairs leading to their floor. It’s the side building next to the admin building, you walk through the door, go down the hall, take a left and their dorm is right there sooo..... 

Oh right, it’s probably done this way so that we can have such a suspenseful moment where Clementine is sneaking out while the others are asleep and her foot makes a creeeeeeakk that could wake everyone up, thwarting her plans of abandoning everyone quietly so she doesn’t have to deal with any consequences. 

Because yeah, Clementine is sneaking out with all of her supplies because apparently, she’s been planning an escape from this place for a while. 

And just look at how gosh darn happy she is about it. You can’t see or hear me, but know that I’m laughing. Don’t worry, I will talk about her abandoning everyone later.

But first, I have a gripe with Clementine's design in this comic. It doesn’t look like her. This art of her right here is the most accurate we get throughout all 12 pages, and it’s the best looking, too. 

Moving on, she slams the door shut while this walker changes faces and hair between panels, so that’s cool. I will say, I like the idea of the Ericson crew putting spikes on the door. That’s fun. 

Though Clementine slamming the door shut while trying to sneak out seems counter productive but it fits with the theme this comic has of inconsistency, so it works. 

Next we have Clementine going to what I believe is the fishing shack by the river, and she’s going through some things that she’s stashed away, telling us that she’s been planning this escape for a while. 

Oh good, she has a map. Well at least now she won’t get lost out there in the woods while she makes her escape... also that last panel with her profile.... why does it look so funny? Like this page of the comic doesn’t look too bad, but there is something off putting about her eye there and how she has zero expression. 

And it turns out that rustle was a walker, and Clementine is super inconvenienced by this and gives us our first piece of witty dialogue.

Yeah you dumb walker, can’t you see Clementine is busy running away from home and abandoning all of her loved ones without a single goodbye so she doesn’t have to witness the consequences of her selfish actions?? Gosh, so rude.

Just a heads up, the dialogue in this comic is stilted, emotionless, and bland. The words have no flow, no charm, and never feel like they should be coming out of Clementine’s mouth. Then again, the upcoming graphic novels this is tied to are for young adult/middle graders so I guess we have to dumb everything down so their baby brains can process it. 

.....Why does her face look like that? Also, interesting that she decided to move her ponytail to the other side of her head.... which is a thing that happens throughout this comic, her hair will randomly change sides. 

I believe it’s a metaphor for her changing and inconsistent personality. 

So yeah, Clementine is just making off with the supplies she gathered [I’m sure Ericson doesn’t need ‘em anyway] and she’s just so gosh darn annoyed at all these small inconveniences bothering her.... because it’s just too early for this. 

.....Again, why does her face look like that?

I’m sorry, like I get it, Tillie’s style is supposed to be purposely messy yet minimal but it doesn’t work. When you do a comic in a more messy style, usually it has charm and heart put into it. Effort goes into the messy look, and when things are minimal, that usually means more clean, yeah? So you put them together and just..... that is nothing resembling Clementine’s face. 

Can we just--

Look at canon Clementine’s face. Look at the way her eyebrows are shapes, how wide her eyes are with her eye lashes. The dirt on her skin, the lines-- there is so much personality in her features. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a neutral expression or she’s expressing anger or joy or sorrow or whatever. 

Now, is it fair to compare a model of Clem from the games to the Clem in this comic? Well, I assume that if Tillie is doing this comic, she would use references from the game to ensure that Clementine is recognizable, especially now that she’s no longer wearing her signature hat. 

So why does she look like this? Why do I look at these drawings of her face and see nothing but a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth? You might as well draw me a simple smiley face. And I get that it’s a comic, and it’s a lot of work to draw the same character over and over again and you gotta cut corners somewhere, but maybe put some effort into the close up shots of her face so that we can actually see it’s her? 

Other fan artists have made comics in their styles that shine bright with Clementine’s personality, so what happened here? 

Anyway, surprise..... it’s not a walker annoying Clementine. 

........Why does AJ look like that??? I’m sorry, I hate to do the same thing I just did but--

Just because you put Clementine’s hat on AJ that doesn’t automatically make it him. I just.... wow. This feels like there wasn’t a single reference involved, like if someone gave Tillie a basic description of AJ and she just did this. 

But appearances aside, what is AJ saying? He says that he knew it, that Clementine’s leaving and I cannot stand this dialogue. It’s unnatural. Again, I know you wanna dumb it down for all of us because I guess we dumb.... but this conversation does not feel natural. 

“I knew it. You’re leaving.” “AJ....” “I’m coming.”

Even if you changed it to, “I’m coming with you.” it would sound more natural. Hell, he doesn’t even question WHY she’s leaving, he just stands there like “I’m coming” like??? I’m sorry, have you ever heard a single word this murder baby has said? I assume you have because I assume you actually played TFS, right? Soooo.... what happened here?

.....whY DO THEIR FACES LOOK LIEK THAT KSAJDLKJAS:LKDJLKASJD:L--

So now we’re getting into it.... into the bullshit. 

Clementine tells AJ to go back to the school, and AJ says that she wasn’t even going to say goodbye..... and then more bad dialogue that sound unnatural when you try to fucking read it. 

First off.... AJ’s reaction to Clementine attempting to leave is barely anything. Again, I hate to keep questioning if you actually played TFS, but AJ would throw a fucking fit if he caught Clementine out here ALONE like this, attempting to leave. 

And then he says “Like last time? You were going to come back?” this sentence makes my brain hurt. I just.... “Like last time, right? You’re coming back?” UGH

Wow, I feel nothing. 

I’m sitting here watching these two imposters with fucked up faces who are supposed to be Clementine and AJ and I feel nothing. 

I’m not even going to comment on the faces anymore. You can see it. You know. 

So yeah... AJ tells her the #1 rule, and reminds her that she promised.

Y’know.... she promised that she would never leave him again? Remember? At the McCarroll ranch? That flashback that was in TFS? The one you would watch if you played the game? 

Why is she looking straight at me when she should be looking at AJ as she says this? Is this Clementine’s way of telling me she’s sorry for what a shitty direction this is taking? I wouldn’t know because her face isn’t doing anything. Just because you draw a couple of tears that doesn’t mean I’m feeling the emotional heartbreak you’re attempting to convey. 

I don’t have enough middle fingers for this.

Well, my hat’s off to you. Ya did it. Ya fucked up everything single part of Clementine’s character in the span of two pages, I’m almost impressed. 

First off, the baby thing is weird. Why is she calling him that? She’s never called him that, which you should know.

Second, she’s not happy and that’s why she’s leaving. Clementine isn’t happy, and AJ can’t make her happy. Ericson can’t make her happy. So she’s going to go out on the road to.... what, be unhappy by herself? 

I’m sorry, but apparently we need a few reminders here of who Clementine is, because this isn’t her. 

This is Clementine. 

Clementine fought for years to find a home, something she hasn’t had since she was an eight-year-old girl before the apocalypse. The motor-inn wasn’t a home, the cabin wasn’t home, the ski-lodge, Howe’s, Wellington, Richmond, Prescott, none of them were home. 

She struggled for years, dealing with trauma after trauma while out on the road. She went from group to group, watching people she cared about die and she was powerless to do anything about it. Whenever she let her guard down and become comfortable, it bit in her in the ass and left her heartbroken.

She was there when AJ was born. She grew close to Rebecca while she was pregnant, she let herself do that even after everything she went through with Christa. Clementine had a bond with AJ even before he was born, and after Rebecca died, she did what she could to keep him safe, despite play choice. 

She cried when she thought AJ died and when she found him in that car again. She swore to protect him, to raise him right and love him. All they had was each other. 

And when she joined the new frontier and AJ got sick, she risked everything to save him and she was devastated when they took him away from her. When she found out he was alive, she is willing to go as far as helping Lingard overdose [INJECTING HIM HERSELF IF SHE HAS TO] to figure out his location. She did shitty things to find him, she killed people at McCarroll Ranch to find him again. 

Clementine raised him and he is her family, do you understand that? She went to hell and back for him, she taught him how to protect himself, and even though she made mistakes she sacrificed everything for him. She promised him that they would have a home of their own one day, she talked about how much she wished for a world where she didn’t have to worry about fighting and killing and AJ could just be a happy kid. 

She fought for Ericson, she watched her friends die or become mutilated by someone from her past. She allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to pursue a romantic relationship with Louis or Violet because she felt safe with them, felt safe at Ericson because it’s their home now. 

And when Clementine was bit, she thought she was going to die but she still fought to make sure AJ would be safe and happy without her and it was heartbreaking. She’s dying and the only thing she cares about is AJ. Not herself, not what’s going to happen to her after she dies or turns... no, she tries to make AJ smile again, she makes sure he remembers the rules, and she tells him that she loves him. 

Then he cuts off her leg, and she survives. AJ saved her fucking life, and she got to wake up at home and live to see her family again. She got to push AJ on a tire swing, she got to eat a hot meal and laugh with her friends, she got to make plans with her lover/best friend for what’s next for Ericson, and she got to talk to AJ and tell him the truth... and she asked him if she did a good job, and he’s honest with her right back. 

Hell, she tells him to keep her hat. Her iconic hat. The one thing she has left of her father, possibly her more cherished item. She lets him keep it. 

The last time we see Clementine, she’s happy. She’s sitting on the steps by herself, staring at her family with such fondness in her eyes and a smile on her face because she finally did it. She finally found a home where she can breathe. She has a bed to sleep in, she has AJ with her, she has a boyfriend/girlfriend who loves her and who she loves back, she has friends she can rely on. 

Clementine smiles, and lets out a small laugh. 

She doesn’t have to run anymore. 

And now you have the balls to tell me that AJ and Ericson don’t make Clementine happy anymore. 

She abandons everything to go back out on the road again, and that’s proof enough for me that you don’t understand a damn thing about Clementine or her journey. 

“ I don't even know the person I'm talking about... It's like all we have in common is the same name.” 

....Anyway.

Wow, Clementine found a car and kept is stashed. How lazy and convenient for this bullshit plot. 

And this is the part where I have to tell this comic to fuck off. 

What, you think if you throw in an incredibly inaccurate flashback next to a current pair of hugging Clem and AJ that I’ll feel anything but anger? That flashback is a slap to the face. It’s snowing, but the only time we’ve seen snow is in S2 when AJ was a literal new born, so why is he that big? Is that supposed to be from ANF because that ALSO doesn’t look like that AJ, and that’s not the outfit Clementine had on... AND there was no snow. This is cheap and meaningless. 

Any fan of the series who has played through the games could tell you this. 

So.... AJ runs into the woods and then we get this garbage.

This comic is awful. It misses the point of everything TFS, and the rest of the series, stood for. There is no heart here. I feel no happiness in reading it, and I don’t detect any passion behind it. It’s a lifeless comic that retcons everything in order to throw AJ away and start fresh with a new adventure for Clementine that makes no sense because the cow isn’t profitable unless it’s milked. 

This isn’t canon, and it won’t ever be canon, and honestly? At this point, I have no faith in the graphic novel trilogy. It will take a lot to do a turn around from this, and I don’t even know if that’s possible. 

Again, to reiterate, I don’t have anything personal against Tillie Walden herself. She’s just doing her job, and from what I’ve seen of her as a person, she seems like a sweetheart. I don’t want anyone giving her shit because I think the comic isn’t good or that you agree with me. All of my anger is directed at the comic itself, her work, not specifically her.... and a little bit at Skybound, because they’re the reason this is even a thing in the first place. 

So yeah.... there ya have it. 

[rumblelibrary]

Hello, it's me again, your friendly neighborhood... Hungarian?!...👀❤️

Can I request a Sebastian Zöllner fic, where he is a coworker of Reader, and there's an obvious sexual tension, attraction in the office, they sit opposite each other, legs touching sometimes, hands touching... Idunno... Things like this 👀🔥 but nothing happened... Yet...🔥🔥

Never an Enemy [Sebastian Zöllner x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 5k

Warnings: A bad mouthed journalist with strong opinions about art and performance that might offend

Author’s note: Did I let this idea simmer in me for ages? Yes. Did I ever stopped thinking about it? NO.

You hummed softly while the music blasted in your headphones as you made your way up the stairs to the headquarters of the Art Tribune, the art focused magazine you worked for since over a year.

You liked the job even if to deal with artists was hard and the pay check could really deserve an improvement, it was stimulating and surely kept you on the edge. That morning in particular you needed to revise some background stories and just loads of reading to do to work on a new article for an upcoming exhibition. Just the usual fact checking, but you just couldn’t do it at home the day before so you decided to come early and enjoy some peace and quiet at the office.

You arrived at the top of the stairs of the fourth floor with a groan, you told yourself you had to do the stairs because you spent 70% of your life sitting in front of a computer, kind of self care, but brutal. You groaned lightly going straight toward the little kitchen installed for the team when you noticed something in the empty shared room full of desks. It was actually a really nice place with big industrial style windows that let lots of light inside, a very smart environment to work in, with areas where you could relax, free Wifi and loads of facilities. Usually people were put in big desks together, facing each other, trying to push a sort of ‘community feeling’.

Inevitably most of the people created barricades with books, and pictures of their dogs or even empty coffee cups. Yes, all cute and artistic, but do not talk to me.

That’s what also the attitude of the man you shared your desk with on your first day. He whined like a child for twenty minutes, complained he was happy to work alone, followed the assistant of the editor around the office and created a barricade of catalogues between the two of you so thick that you wondered if it was also bulletproof, only to rest his elbows over it half an hour asking if you had the change for the vending machine. Yes, that random man was you colleague and friend, Sebastian Zöllner.

The same that you are witnessing now asleep on the desk, head resting on his crossed arms while a stand of saliva went down on his shirt, wild hair and shoes taken off.

He could be considered an attractive man if he wasn’t a bloody nightmare of a person. You actually worked a lot with him and enjoyed his presence most of the days, your characters folded nicely and you would bounce off his attitude. He was strong on biographies and annoying the shit out of others, so he was always nagging at someone, you included.

You smirked slowly tracing his hair with your fingers, he never looked so innocent and you were always surprised to learn how those messy hair were so soft. It wasn’t the first time you did that gesture, sometimes he did lean his head like this only to be touched like an annoying mewling cat that needs attentions. “Kaffee” He mumbled making you chuckle, such a an annoying brat and he didn’t even open his eyes.

You carried on walking to the little kitchen room to prepare some coffee for you and your desk partner. You shook your head aimlessly as you started wondering why the man is here at this hour and if it was really a good idea to wake him up. To have him awake means to be able to do little to zero.

You watched the coffee get ready, the comforting tune of your morning playlist getting you still on the good side of your mood as you poured the coffee in your mug.

Then you saw it, an arm sneaking in front of you and taking the mug from your hand, you jump scared in a second almost pouring the rest of the coffee on the whole kitchen counter only to encounter Sebastian sleepy figure behind you bringing the mug close to his nose and inhaling deeply the aroma before having a gulp, you stared at him as his jaw clenched, his eyes got a bit teary. “Fucking hot” he whined making you chuckle, he deserved it for stealing it, luckily you were already doing some more for him so he stole your favourite mug but you had some coffee for you left.

You pulled off your headphones leaning them on your neck “No idea you’d be sleeping at the office, weren’t you off on some interview ?”

He shrugged “yeah, well me neither, but interviewing sculptors is always annoying as shit and those are always supersensitive” he said opening the freezer and pulling out some ice cubes from their box and putting them in the coffee mug. “Scheiße!” He cursed as the ice cube landing in the mug caused the coffee to spill onto his white shirt. You pressed your lips tight against each other not to laugh into his face, but he was already pissed off and it wasn’t even proper work time. You watched him lean over the sink trying to wash it off somehow without even bothering to take it off, just adding chaos on chaos.

“Y/N! Do not laugh and try to help me! Beside, the heck are you doing here at this hour?” You rolled your eyes at that comment, but you didn’t indulge him in that request.

“I was just looking for silence”

He nodded like he didn’t believe a single word of it, he was just an asshole and you had to deal with it like it or not. You almost hated how he was so freaking good at writing and that’s probably why many people indulged him. Even you knew his pieces on the magazine and didn’t expect to find out he was so…so Sebastian.

You let out a breathy chuckle taking your mug and making your way to your joined desk letting him wrestle his balance over the kitchen sink trying to get the stain wet and not shower himself in the meanwhile.

You sat down at your spot leaning the mug on side, hands covering your face trying to keep a clear mind letting out a big breath “okay, let’s do this”

You turned on the lamplight on your desk pulling out your laptop from your backpack. As the computer was ‘waking up’ you stared at Sebastian side of the desk compared to yours.

You had like a little citadel of books around you, but it was pretty neat, a little succulent gifted by your friend for your first day at work with the name tag ‘Danny’ on it sitting beside the lamp, lots of pencils and pens of different colours and notebooks to no end. If you had something in common with that beast of a man was that you both still relied on paper for sketching ideas and write down impressions in the moment, then onto the typing.

His side, however, was like a contemporary artwork in itself. Half empty cigarettes packages everywhere, the ashtray filled up, paper inside books and books filled with more papers. Notes everywhere, the damn king of neon yellow post-its, stains of coffee and crumbles of food invert corner, his red laptop showing off like a punch in the eye and his satchel bag always hang or thrown around.

You often wondered if the cleaning stuff just gave up on him. Your lucky guess was that he would probably throw a fit if anything was moved, so everyone just played the blind eye.

He was good at throwing fits.

You watched him come back sitting in front of you, half of his shirt soaked in the attempt to clean it up, he licked his lips picking one empty package of cigarettes looking in it and throwing it away until he found one with still something in it and he lighted his cigarette as he turned on his laptop. You sighed opening the window to let the fresh air not getting you intoxicated.

You went back to sip your coffee and stare at the screen quietly, every now and then your eyes falling onto the little cloud of smoke in front of you.

Sebastian was an attractive man, that was undeniable and you were sure that made him also a successful interviewer even though he was so random and chaotic, when he was silent and collected in thoughts he was indeed a sight to be seen. The dark hair framing his face like he was some cherub, his deep eyes staring into the void of his own words as he typed. He had a sort of decadent look on him.

Slowly the office begun to get filled, people coming here and there to tease Seb about coming early and he just waving his cigarette around asking for silence.

“Zöllner””

The chief editor shouted getting into his office without even turning around. Seb rolled his eyes looking at you as he pushed the cigarette in the ashtray waving his hand around to dissipate the smoke around him before standing up.

“I wonder how he managed to survive few days without shouting my name” he smirked.

You looked at him and mimicked his smirk.

What a chaotic man.

You had finished your reading by then and started to make a first draft of the article you were meant to work on.

“Y/N!!!” Sebastian voice rang through the office making you jump on your seat and he gestured at you to go with him with a big wave of his arm.

You looked at your screen with an helpless sigh, it seems like you will not write that article anytime soon, you’d better just have slept an hour more.

You stood up following that incessant wave as Seb put his hand on your back to get you in a bit quicker.

“Good morning”

You said as the chief editor nodded quietly “Look Y/N, it is a big favour I have to ask you” he begun frankly as you were beginning to get worried “you did your time with silly articles, so I thought it could be interesting to pair you up with Sebastian to go to tonight’s exhibition of Evita Schnecke”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Sebastian shrug his shoulders.

“I need somebody to keep the horse with tight rains” Mr Megelbach continued gesturing with his pen at Sebastian and then at you “and you will dip your toes in those big time artists environment, but we really need to make sure Sebastian won’t hurt anyone’s sensibility, her interview has been obtained with lots of hard work”

“Yeah, we all know that hard work” Sebastian whispered in your ear earning a glare from Mr Megelbach who handed you a couple of catalogues from that artist and the invitation.

“So, put on hold your current article for today, make a plan with this train wreck and please make sure he doesn’t show up dressed like that”

“That was unneeded”

“All precautions are always needed with you, and now get out of my office the both of you”

You nodded moving out of the office, you were a bit anxious. Those artists were unpredictable just as Sebastian.

You made your way back to your desk with him as you sat down looking at the invitation. “So, it begins at 9 pm” you said almost understanding why Sebastian shouldn’t be allowed to go unescorted because the invitation on the dress code had: Wear something that talks about your soul. Only that could bring Sebastian to have an aneurism.

“I hate that bitch”

“Seb, that’s not a good start for an article”

He smirked as you said so but shrugged

“I mean it, this woman was born into privilege, she portrayed herself to be this underground rebel, but her simple black dress was a Chanel and her everyday boot Balenciaga, so I don’t trust her for a reason”

You smirked as you could agree with that and showed him the two catalogues the boss gave you

“Choose your fighter”

He groaned so loud he could have stabbed his toe and he leaned over his side of the desk picking one from your hand giving a light pinch on your side “teacher’s pet”. You chuckled softly as he always said that.

“Tell me if you read something that it is not about the performer’s way of life” he mumbled opening it in front of him.

You begun your reading and it was indeed the hell pit of a vey spoiled kid who was told to be the greatest since the first day of life, you picked your notebook and opened it taking notes on things that you could ask about.

Sebastian in the meanwhile lighted up another cigarette rolling it between his fingers mindlessly, his eyes looking above the paper at you every now and then among the little curses in German about the stupid things written there.

After some time it was becoming really a torture to read and you leaned your back on your chair stretching your legs forward for Seb to catch one of them among his.

You smirked as you often joked to him he was like some bear trap with those legs always catching yours.

He put his hand under the table bringing your leg up onto his thigh as you shifted even lower on your seat, his hand touching your ankle mindlessly as he had a talent for little massages like that. He did it the first time a while aback, a summer day where it was so hot and humid that you couldn’t feel your own legs.

So it became a little ritual among the two of you. You had many of those rituals, it was like an unspoken collection of attentions. Like you making the coffee in the morning because he was a grumpy ass. Or him always buying you some chewing gum or little treat when he went to buy cigarettes.

“I guess I am not the only one that needs a restyle”

He said bringing you away by the tenderness those little actions brought to you when he pushed his finger in your Vans shoe deepening a hole that you were trying to ignore from months.

“Seb, don’t do it, I wanted to make them last another season”

“Another season? These can’t last the end of the month, no doubt why your sex life is a train wreck”

You frowned at him taking your ankle off his hand to push on his chair making him roll back thanks to the little wheels underneath it, but he held on the desk and pulled himself closer again.

“What do you even know about it”

He looked at you, eyebrows raising up on his forehead

“Y/N, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t allow you to leave the bed that early in the morning to go to the office and that’s a fact”

“Oh, and how on heaven could you detain my passion for this job?” “Well, I can write you a list about it, you can consider it a to do list on your next date” His smirk was so wide, he enjoyed to tease you like that, the bastard, he knew to be an hottie and he always acted like half of the world was up to fuck with him.

“Oh please, do it, I want to see”

You teased him and he leaned in elbows on the table staring at you.

Oh the sexual tension with him was too much, you always went down on this hurricane of remarks, always him mentioning how you need more orgasms or implying it, or even implying how good he is at giving them.

“But be careful, because any act should be performed and not only lived”

You said quoting the artist you were reading about and he whined so hard like you really stomped your foot on his balls.

“Horrid witch”

“Me?” “No, that one”

He huffed and puffed picking another cigarette. Sometimes cigarettes just died on his fingers as he forgot to actually enjoy them more than waving them around.

The artist herself wasn’t remarkable, she used themes seen over and over before, she had a background as performer/dancer and she added painting to that, but more than talent she had an amazing marketing squad. You read her story and her commentaries about living like in a poem, which always sounds pretty easy with a big bank account.

You did all you could to stay neutral even if Seb was going down to massacre the woman, you two shared a bundle of two sandwiches (or better say, your brought a package of two and he was skipping his lunch so you just handed it to him) until you decided to get parted and go get ready at home.

That evening you were waiting for him in front of your apartment, when a taxi stopped in front of you and his figure appeared waving at you to come in on the back. His eyes widened in surprise “Well, well, well, look who got all fancy here”

He smirked as his eyes travelled on you shamelessly, the dress was actually one of those you brought ages ago and never used, also to wear heels felt like new, last time you went to a fancy event almost hard to recollect.

“Just move and let me in”

You said chuckling as you looked at him being so elegant when you noticed it, the price tag on his shirt.

“Seb, did you just buy this shirt?”

“Yes, and I am going to take it back tomorrow”

You looked at him puzzled

“What?” He groaned “I suck at ironing stuff”

You looked at him as a little laugh escaped your lips as he told you not to, but it was too late for that, you shifted closer to him anyway helping him to hide that price tag better behind his neck. Nevertheless the white shirt was really fancy and fitted him perfectly.

As you arrived in front of the gallery you sighed and made your way inside.

The place wasn’t crowded but few eyes turned as you got in.

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter asked and Seb picked two flutes immediately downing one in a gulp on his own as the other was still in his other hand, he put the empty glass on the tray and then picked a third one handing it to you.

“Drink Y/N or you won’t make it to the end of the evening”

You smirked as he was always over dramatic, but indeed the evening seemed to be made for posh people to show off how cool they are.

You spotted the artist pretty quickly wearing a Valentino bright red dress, she surely had the dancer figure and gestures which gave her some kind of an edge.

"She is all yours"

You looked at Sebastian already half way through his drink, giving you that cheshire cat smirk.

"Are you sure?"

"You know I will insult her in a second if she names her dancing background one more time, I saw the videos, she looked like a three ready to collapse on the ground" he chuckled as you smirked shaking your head at his metaphor, but he is probably right, he is too much biased.

"I didn't notice the open back before" he said referring to your dress as he caressed over your skin with his fingertips making goosebumps raise up your spine.

"What? Am I too sexy for your own good?"

"Probably" he commented not losing a beat to answer you. You were taken aback from a moment, his eyes still down on his hand touching your back before raising up to find yours.

Then he took his hand away and pressed the cold champagne glass against it making you hiss "Now go, I'll check this bourgeois art"

You frowned but you just moved away from him. He always did it, he teased you and then made it a joke. You gave it back to him too, it was your relationship, that's how you balanced it.

"Good evening " you said to her with a smile holding your glass in your left hand before offering your right hand to her "I am Y/N, from the Art Tribune"

She went from neutral to smiling in a second

"Oh, I was waiting to meet you" she said leaning to kiss your cheek, surely she was a woman with charm, with a degree of boldness that made her charming and also, you noticed, extremely touchy-feely with everyone.

"We can define this a sort of retrospective of your previous works, I liked to see the evolution of it" you lied, because you just saw the catalogue.

But that was fair enough to have her go on about her, guess what? Past as a dancer, about how she needed to express herself, how she was her own muse and all the stuff you already read.

"What is next for you then?"

"I want to follow my dream, I have always wanted to found a space with my name where people could rent the rooms to perform dances and arts"

You stared at her. For real? Like there weren't other hundreds in the whole city?

"What will keep you apart from all the others that did this before you?"

"Nobody is me" she smirked like it was clear and obvious.

You asked few more questions, but you were sad to admit Sebastian was right. There wasn't art there, there was just profit, selling a name, a brand.

This saddened you because you met many artists that had less than a chance to make it but double the talent of Miss Valentino Dress.

"Y/N" Sebastian warm hand was on your back as you were downing the last bit of champagne "Come, come ,come quick" he said pushing you away as the artist clearly recognised him but he dismissed her with some insult or whatever he just mumbled.

"Seb, I was working, what the hell?"

"Elke is here"

You still didn't understand, you were puzzled as the reason of that anxiety was still unknown to you.

"Like your girlfriend Elke?"

"Put an ex in front of it" he said looking around frantically

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know"

"No, me neither, I thought she was just bashing around, she always did" his arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer "please, act sexy for once"

You were one second from hitting his guts with your elbow when Elke herself approached.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" she said waving her glass around

"Yeah, well I work for an important Art journal if you remember"

"How could I forget?" she groaned looking at you then as Sebastian's hand rested onto your hip. Really? Was he acting like you were his date?

"Hi, I am Y/N"

You said politely to her and she chuckled "Run when you can, this man is a leech and you don't even know it"

She mentioned it almost casually, but you could feel all the poison implied on your skin, Sebastian's hand giving you a soft squeeze, you had never seen him like this before. He looked like a dog that just got kicked, his back hunched over you lightly both trying to protect you and for protection.

"Well, thank you for your advice, I must be a real torment too because we actually have lot of fun together, I like his unpredictability"

You said it from your heart, you didn't want to insult her or anything, but you felt bad for him. Even if he probably deserved it, to be humiliated like this must be hard in any circumstance, in particular in a place where he is supposed to work and being known.

He looked at you a bit surprised, he leaned slowly pressing a kiss on your temple and you smiled because of that gesture so enveloped in that feeling of tenderness.

"Your shot" Elke said clearly a bit annoyed that you as she just moved along followed by a man that must be her date.

"Lets go out"

You suggested as Seb nodded and just followed for once, he held your hand as you guided him and for once he wasn't talking or commenting anything.

As you went out he sat down on the sidewalk pulling out his package of cigarettes taking out one immediately.

"Hey stand up" you said to him as he looked up at you and you snatched that cigarette off his lips "let's go away"

"Where? Don't we have to stay until she gets naked to dance?"

You smirked "No, we have all the material we need"

You took his cigarette away offering him your hand as he picked it and you guided him.

He was silent, which is rare, when he was silent it meant he was upset in some way, he always had a nice comeback line for everything usually.

His head leaned on side like a scolded child as he slowly laced your fingers together.

You walked across few streets, your heels clicking on the cement until you made it to your final location pulling him inside.

"Constatinopole?"

Seb asked looking at the sign, it was a kebab place, your favourite by the way.

"I am hungry" you just said making him lower his head and smile like a kid with cue breathy chuckles.

You ordered for the two of you as he went to sat down putting another cigarette between his lips when the man behind the counter glared at him and he just put it back in the package.

He sat down slouching as you did some small talks with the guys there, you clearly knew them. The soft music from the radio holding the place into a sort of magical aura as his eyes travelled over your naked back once more, the need for a cigarette becoming even more urgent.

You two dressed so elegantly really were so noticeable in the bright lightend place, he smiled to himself thinking it could be a nice painting by Hopper.

You came back offering him his kebab with a soft drink, very thoughtful because he was indeed already a bit high on champagne.

You ate quietly together, it wasn't uncomfortable, your silences were happening often at work and always filled with a sense of common understanding, you leaned your leg up like you always did at the office and rested it on his thigh as you sat sideways beside him. His hand flying naturally on your ankle to give his usual massage, his thumb tracing your skin with imaginary patterns as his other hand held the kebab close to his mouth.

The speaker at the radio announcing next song as Rocket Man by Elton John filled the room with a melancholic vibe. You couldn't help but think the song suited perfectly Sebastian, his being out of this word, out of control.

"Thank you" he said at some point as he tried his best not to ruin his shirt, you looked up at him as he was staring, his eyes telling you something on their own "You have been the best girlfriend I have ever had"

He added with a bitter smile diverting once more his gaze, you smiled back at him, he looked so resigned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you have never seen him so fragile before.

"I could be"

His eyes darted up to you, his surprise evident as he put down the kebab, the soothing voice of the British singer still giving a dream edge to the moment as he moved closer. You slowly shifted your leg to give him room of movement as his right arm sneaked to rest on the back of your chair closing the space between the two of you.

His lips tasted still a bit of champagne as he pressed them against yours, you kissed him back slowly as his left hand travelled on your thigh pulling you closer to him probably staining your dress because of his greasy hand.

He pulled back almost immediately before leaning onto you again titling his head on the other side. This second time the kiss was more deep, more intense. Your hands slowly cradling his face before pulling back yourself.

He smiled against your lips and you smiled back.

Maybe tomorrow you will regret it like Elke said, maybe not.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahlingLet me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[comedicreliefonlyworkswhenfunny]

I am against the "Americanization" of fandoms.

What this applies to

Holding non American characters (and sometimes even fans) to an American moral standard. This includes

Refusing to take into account that, first things first, America is NOT the target audience, so certain tropes that would or would not pass in the west are different in Japan.

Like seriously, quite a few of the jokes are just not going to pass or hit, because they require background information that is not universal.

Assuming all American experience is standard. (This could mean watering down just how much pressure is placed on Japanese youth irl by saying that sort of thing is universal (while it is, to a degree, Japanese suicide rates are pretty fucking high because of how fast paced and work heavy some of their loads tend to be), and it's really annoying and rude when someone is trying to speak out about how heavy and harsh the standards are placed on them to succeed just for some American whose mom occasionally yells at them to do their homework dropping by to say "it's like that everywhere")

Demonizing (or wubbifying) a character using American morals, including and up to harassing fans over their interpretations or gatekeeping whether or not a character "should" get development (while you shouldn't do that fucking period, it's rude and annoying- this is specifically for the people who use American standards without acknowledging the cultural gap between them and, you know, the fucking target audience) ((Like seriously, saying "It's different in Japan" is not the end all be all excusing someone's actions, but sometimes the author didn't immediately think that maybe (insert vaguely universal thing) was that bad or that heavy of a topic before they put it into their media. If you don't want to see things like that? Pick a different series and stop harassing the fans))

Getting mad at or making fun of Japan's attempts to satirize their own culture. (A good example is Ace Attorney! To most of us, it's just a funny laugh can you imagine if courts were actually like that- guess what? Japan's are! (Not that America's are actually that much better, they just look good on paper))

Making America/American issues the center of your fan spaces

(Usually without sharing or bringing light to the issues that other countries are going through)

Your

Experiences

Are

Not

Univseral!

Seriously, very few things across America, even, are universal. Texas things the hundreds are nothing while Minnesota's like "oh it's only thirty degrees below zero"- so for fucks sake, stop assuming that all other countries work in ways similar to America.

It's good and important to share Ameican issues with your American followers, but guess what? America isn't the only country out there, and it's certainly not the only one going through bullshit. Don't pull shit like "why's no one reblogging this?" or "why should I care about what's happening in (X country)?"

Don't assume everyone lives in America.

Stop assuming everyone lives in America.

America is not and has never been the target audience for anime, and it's certainly not the only country outside of Japan that enjoys it.

Like I said above, sometimes Japan attempts to satirize its own culture. We can't tell what is and isn't meant as satire, because it's not our culture.

Social media activism can be tiring and maybe you don't have the energy to focus on things that are out of your control, but, if someone tells you about the shit they're going through, don't bring American politics up.

For the neurodivergent crowd out there thinking, "But why?" it's because a lot of social media, especially, is very heavily Americanized- sometimes to the point where people assume that everyone is American. Not to mention, it's disheartening. I'm sorry to say, but you're not actually relating to the conversation, you're often diverting the focus away from the topic at hand. Even if you mean well, America is heavily pedestaled and talked about frequently, and people from other countries are tired of America taking precedent over their own issues.

Don't divert non-American issues into American ones. Seriously. It's not your place. Please just support the original issue or move on.

Racist Bullshit

This especially goes for islanders and South Asian characters, as well as poc characters (because, yes, Japan DOES have black people)

Making "funny" racist headcanons. Not fucking cool.

Changing the canon interpretation of an explicit character of color in order to fit racist stereotypes.

Whitewashing or color draining characters. Different artistic skill sets can be hard, yes, but are you seriously going to look at someone and say "I don't feel like accurately portraying you or people that look like you, because it's difficult for me." If someone tries to correct you on your cultural depiction of a character and/or their life style, don't be an ass. (If possible, it would be nice for those that do the corrections to be polite as well, but it does get really frustrating).

Seriously, no offense guys, but, if you want to persue art, you're going to need to learn to depict different body types, skin colors, and/or ethnic features.

On that note, purposefully, willingly, or consistently inaccurately portraying people or characters of color (especially if someone in the fandom has "called you out" or specifically told you that what you're doing comes across as racist and you continue to do it). If you need help or suck at looking things up, there are references for you! Ask your followers if they have tutorials on poc (issue that you're having), whether it be bodily portrayal, facial proportions, or coloring and shading. Art is so much more fun when you can depict a wider variety, and guess what? Before you drew the same skinny, basic, white character over and over, you couldn't even draw that!

Attempting or claiming to DEPECT CULTURAL ACCURACY within a work or meta, while being completely fucking wrong. ESPECIALLY and specifically if someone calls you out, and you refuse to fix, correct, or change anything.

*little side note that the discussion revolving art is a very multilayered conversation, and it has quite a few technical potholes, which I'll bring up again farther into this post.

Fucking history

Stop demonizing or for absolute fucks sake wubbifying Japanese history because UwU Japan ♡0♡ or bringing up shit like "you know they sided with Nazis, right?" It's good to recognize poor past decisions, but literally it's not your country keep your nose out of it. And? A lot of decisions made by countries were not made by their general peoples. Even those that were, often involved heavy propaganda that made them think what they were doing was right.

Seriously, it's not your country, not your history. Unless you have some sort of higher education (but honestly even then a lot of those contain heavy bias), just don't butt in.

^^^ this also goes to all countries that are NOT Japan (specifically when people from non American countries talk about their history while in fandoms and someone wants to Amerisplain to them why "well, actually-"). When we said, "question your sources," we didn't mean "question the people who know better than you, while blindly accepting the (more than likely biased) education you were given in the past."

What this does NOT include:

Fanfiction

FANfiction

FanFICTION

FANFICTION.

Seriously, fanfiction is literally UNPAID WORK from RANDOM FANS- a lot of which who are or have started as kids. ((No, I'm not trying to excuse racist depictions of people just because they're free, please see above where I talk about learning to grow a skill and how it's possible tone bad and get good, on top of the fact that some inaccuracies are not just willful ignorance))

"Looking it up" doesn't work

"Looking it up" almost never works

Please, for fucks sake, you know that most all online search engines are heavily biased, right? Not to mention, not everything is universal across the entirety of Japan. You want to look up how the school system works in Hokkaido? Well it's different from the ones in Osaka!

Most fanfiction is meant to be an idealized version of the world. Homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, and racism are very prevalent and heavy topics that some fan authors would prefer to avoid. (Keep in mind, this is also used by some people in those minorities often because thinking about how relevant those kinds of things are is to them every day).

A lot of shit that happens in writing is purely because it's an ideal setting. I've seen a few arguments recently about how fan authors portray Japanese schools wrong- listen, I can't tell you how many random school systems I have pulled from my ass purely because (I need them to interact at these points, in these ways). Sometimes the only compliment I can think of is 'I like your shirt' or sometimes I need character A to realize that character B likes the same thing as they do, so I might ignore the fact that most all Japanese schools require uniforms, so that I can put my character in a shirt that will get someone else's attention.

Sometimes it's difficult to find information on different types of systems, and sometimes when you DO know those things, they directly rule out a plot point that needs to happen (like back on the topic of schools (from what I've seen/heard/read- which guess what? Despite being from multiple sources, might still be inaccurate!) Japanese schools don't have mandatory elective classes (outside of like gym and most of them usually learn English or another language- I've seen stuff about art classes? But the information across the board varies.), but, if I need my character to walk in and see someone completely in their element, I'm probably not going to try and gun for accuracy or make up a million and two reasons as to why this (non elective) person would possibly need something from (elective teacher) after school of all things.)

Some experiences ARE universal- or at least overlap American and Japanese norms! Like friends going to fast food places after school doesn't /sound Japanese/ or whatever, but it's not like a horrible inaccuracy to say that your characters ate at McDonald's because they were hungry. Especially when you consider that the Japanese idolization of American "culture" is also a thing.

Also I saw someone complaining about how, in December, a lot of (usually westerners) write Christmas fics! Well, not only are quite a few of those often gift fics, with it being the season if giving and all, but Japanese people do celebrate Christmas! Not as "the birth of Christ," but rather as a popularized holiday about gift giving (also pst: America isn't the only place that celebrates Christmas)

But, on that note, sometimes things like Holidays are "willfully ignorant" of what actually happens (I've made this point several times, but (also this does by no means excuse actual racism)), because, again: plot convenience! Hey what IF they celebrated Halloween by Trick or Treating? What if Easter was a thing and they got to watch their kids or younger siblings crawl around on the ground looking for tiny plastic eggs?

Fanfiction authors can put in hours of work for one or two thousand words- let alone ten thousand words, fifty thousand words, a hundred thousand words. And all of these are free. There is absolutely no (legal) way to make money off of their fanworks, but they spent hours, days, weeks, months- sometimes even years- writing. It is so unnecessary to EXPECT or REQUIRE them to spend even more hours looking up shit that, no offense, almost no one is going to notice. No one is going go care that all of my combini prices are accurate or that I wrote a fic with a Japanese map of a train station that I had to backwards search three times to find an English version that I could read.

Not everyone has the attention span or ability to spend hours of research before writing a single word. Neurodivergent people are literally a thing yall. Instead of producing the perfectly pretty accurate version of Japan that people want to happen, what ACTUALLY happens is that the writer reads and reads and reads and either never finds the information they need or they lose the motivation to write.

^^^ (This does NOT apply to indigenous or native peoples, like Pacific Islanders or tribes that exist in real life. Please make sure that you portray tribal minorities accurately. If you can't find the information you need (assuming that the content of the series is not specifically about a tribe), please just make one up (and for fucks sake, recognize that a lot of what you've been taught about tribal practices, such as shit like human sacrifices or godly worship, is actually just propaganda.)

Not to mention, it often puts a wall in front of readers who would then need to pull up their OWN information (that may or may not be biased) just in order to interact with the fic ((okay, this one has a little bit of arguability when it comes to things like measurements and currency, because Americans don't know what a meter is and no one else knows what a foot is- either way, one of yall is going to have to look up measurements if they want to get a better understanding of the fic)). However, a lot of Americans who do write using 'feet, Fahrenheit, dollars,' also write for their American followers or friends (which really could go both ways).

On a less easily arguable side, most fic readers aren't going to open up a new tab just to search everything that the author has written (re the whole deep topics, not everyone wants to read about those sorts of things, either). Not only are you making it more difficult on the writer, but you're also making it more difficult for the reader who's now wondering why you decided to add in Grandma's Katsudon recipe, and whether or not the details you have added are accurate.

Some series, themselves, ignore Japanese norms! Piercings, hair dye, and incorrectly wearing ones uniform are frowns upon in Japanese schools- sometimes up to inflicting punishment on those students because of it. However, some anime characters still have naturally or dyed blond hair some of them still have piercings or wear their uniforms wrong. Some series aren't set specifically in Japan, but rather in a vague based-off-real-life Japan that's just slightly different (like Haikyuu and all of its different prefectures). Sometimes they're based on real places, but real places that have gone through major changes (like the Hero Academia series with its quirks and shit).

Fandom is not a full time job. Please stop treating it like it is one. Most people in fandoms have to engage in other things like school or work that most definitely take precident over frantically Googling the cultural implications of dying your hair pink in Japan.

Art is also meant to be a creative freedom and is almost always a hobby, so there are a few cracks that tend to spark debate. Like I said, it is still a hobby, something that's meant to be fun (on this note!)

If trying new things and expanding your portfolio is genuinely making you upset, it's okay to take a break from it. You're not going to get it right on the first try and please, please to everyone out there critiquing artists' works, please take this into account before you post things.

I'm sorry to say, but, while it gets frustrating to see the same things done wrong over and over again, some people are genuinely trying. If it matters enough for you to point out, please offer solutions or resources that would possibly help the artist do better (honestly this could be said about a lot of online activism). I get that they should "want" to do better (and maybe they don't and your annoyance towards them is completely justified- again, as I said, if this becomes a repeated offense and they don't listen to or care about the people trying to help them, yeah you can be a bitch if it helps you feel better- just please don't assume that everyone is willfully ignorant of how hurtful/upsetting/annoying a certain way of portraying things is), but also WANTING to do better and ACTUALLY doing better are two different things.

Maybe they didn't realize what they were doing was inaccurate. Maybe they didn't have the right tutorials. Maybe they tried to look it up, but that failed them. Either way, to some- especially neurodivergent artists- just being told that their work is bad or racist or awful isn't going to make them want to search for better resources in order to be more accurate, it's just going to make them give up.

Also! In fic and in writing, no one is going to get it right on the first try. Especially at the stage where we creators ARE merely in fan spaces is a great time to "fuck around and find out", before we bring our willfully or accidentally racist shit into monetized media. Absolutely hold your fan creators to higher standards, but literally fan work has so little actual impact on popular media (and this goes for just about every debate about fan spaces), and constructive criticism as well as routine practice can mean worlds for representation in future media. NOT allowing for mistakes in micro spaces like fandoms is how you get genuinely harmful or just... bad... portrayals of minorities in popularized media that DOES have an impact on the greater public. OR you get a bunch of creators who are too afraid to walk out of their own little bubbles, because what if they get it wrong and everyone turns against them. It's better to just "stick with what they know" (hobbies are something that you are meant to get better at, even if that is a slow road- for all of my writers and artists out there, it does take time, but you will get it. To everyone else, please do speak up about things that are wrong, but don't make it all about what's wrong and please don't be rude. It's frustrating on both ends, so, if you can, please try not to escalate the situation more.)

Anyways, I'm tired of everyone holding fictional characters to American Puritanical standards, but I'm also tired of seeing every "stop Americanizing fandom" somehow loop into fanfiction and how all authors who don't make their fics as accurate as possible are actually just racist and perpetuating or enabling America's take over of the world or some shit.

Fan interpretation of published media is different than fan creation of mon monetized media. Americans dominating or monopolizing spaces meant for all fans (especially in a fandom that was never meant for them to begin with) is annoying and can be harmful sometimes. Americans writing out their own personal experience using random fictional characters (more often than not) isn't.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Kind of a silly ask that you guys don’t have to answer but — would love to hear what Hogwarts house you’d think JM, TH, NJ, and SJ would be sorted into and why (YG, JK, and HS as well if you’d like)! If you’re not familiar with HP/would rather not use that sorting method, then perhaps what color you’d denote them and why?

Okay, reading this ask it actually made me laugh (in a good way) so thanks for that! It’s been a loooong time since I last thought about the world of HP so I had to freshen up my memory of the traits of each House to try figuring this out, kinda, mostly, hopefully? An attempt was made, let’s call it that.

Namjoon -- Ravenclaw - he’s extremely intelligent, enjoys learning and he’s so wise for someone so young, and he’s also incredibly witty, way more than a large portion of the fandom give him credit for. Also, he’d look great in black and blue. I’d actually see Yoongi as part of this House as well since honestly he picks up so much knowledge and is just a vault of stuff he knows, it’s incredible.

Jimin -- Slytherin - I feel like this is a very common opinion and if you exclude the negative traits associated with the House and just leave the good ones, it could really fit. Jimin is very ambitious, he certainly displays some leadership qualities (he even joked about taking over the leader role from Namjoon in one of the Japanese interviews in the summer 2020, if I remember correctly), and I feel like he’s also resourceful, and he’s really mischievous if he wants to be.

Seokjin -- Hufflepuff - I’ll admit I had zero recollection of what a Hufflepuff even is before checking it (did the House even play any kind of significant role in the story besides existing in the background?) but looking at their traits, I could see Seokjin being a Hufflepuff. He’s an incredibly hard worker, like we know he starts learning a choreography on his own before their group practice, and we know from Yoongi that he can go hours working on creating melodies and beats if he gets into it. He’s also really patient and loyal to his members.

Taehyung -- Huffleclaw - Now figuring out Tae was a challenge since I didn’t feel like he fit one House so I went with a hybrid since apparent that’s become a thing over the years? He’s far more intelligent than many give him credit for, something the other members have commented on numerous times and also we’ve seen him beat all of them in mind games like Blue Village during RUN, he’s so, so creative with his art in form of painting, photography and also music wise with the ability to develop his own unique style that’s so different from the other members and so very him, but he’s also a hard worker and loyal to his members and his opinions and way of thinking, even if they might be unique and different than the norm. I could actually see Hoseok also being a Huffleclaw with his creative side (his rap style that is so uniquely and recognizably his, it’s incredible) paired with his hard working one, perfect traits for a dancer.

Now Jungkook I have a hard time deciding which could work, and not to fall back on the old fandom wide stereotype of Jungkook being a mix of all four (or all the other six members), but in a way, in this case, he kind of is? But if I had to decide I would say he’s a Gryffindor mixed with...something. Maybe a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? I’m not sure. I’m sorry, JK, I’ve failed you...

Thank you once again for this! Also, I still very much plan on writing a reply to the long ask you sent in recently. I’m still putting together my thoughts but I’ll have it soon, hopefully! :)

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

A Creepy Christmas Cultural Conundrum: The Lasting Legacy of The Nightmare Before Christmas

A request by @lcvcdbyhim.

If you traveled back in time to the year 1993 and told someone that Tim Burton’s new stop-motion animated film, The Nightmare Before Christmas, was going to be the biggest holiday movie in for the next twenty years, they wouldn’t believe me.  They just wouldn’t.

Of all of the holiday films of the 90s, Christmas or Halloween, nothing comes close to the cultural giant that is The Nightmare Before Christmas.  Even family favorites like The Santa Clause or Home Alone don’t get nearly the attention and praise that this film has.  Every year, from Halloween through Christmas, stores are packed with shirts, wallets, keychains, sneakers, backpacks, banks, toys, clocks, jewelry, decorations and more, all covered with images of Jack Skellington, Sally, Oogie Boogie, Zero, and other characters and images from the film.  Even outside of the holiday months, the more merchandise-driven stores still dedicate an entire section to The Nightmare Before Christmas, putting it on the same level as franchises like Star Wars or the various superhero films.

The question is, why?

Why has The Nightmare Before Christmas’s imagery become nearly as recognizable as images of classic monsters like Dracula and the Frankenstein monster?  How is this oddball little movie fast approaching How The Grinch Stole Christmas and other classic Christmas specials in terms of popularity?

There has to be a larger reason that simply being available to be marketed for two holidays instead of one.  

Today, we’re going to be taking a look at The Nightmare Before Christmas in an attempt to figure out where all the hype came from, and more specifically, why it’s still so popular.

But first, we need a little background.

When The Nightmare Before Christmas was first released in 1993, it received modest critical acclaim and a decent opening.  Right in the middle of Disney’s Renaissance period, a throwback to stop-motion wasn’t really thought of as being quite on the same level as animated films like Aladdin and The Lion King.  As a result, the movie did okay, but just….okay.

So what happened?

Very simply, The Nightmare Before Christmas gained a cult following.  Very quickly.

In the years that followed, The Nightmare Before Christmas started being praised as one of the greats in the animated film category.  People started watching it for part of their holiday tradition, around both Halloween and Christmas, and the further we are away from that mediocre opening, it seems the more people laud it as a work of art.  Stores like Hot Topic started selling so much Nightmare merchandise that now the imagery from The Nightmare Before Christmas seems to be the face of a new goth/emo trend.  In fact, since the film’s release, the movie has been put on a rather bizarre pedestal, with some fans lavishing enormous amounts of praise on this movie.  In a way, it seems like disliking it is unheard of.

To return to our earlier question, why?  It doesn’t seem like anything special.  There have been other ‘weird’ stop-motion films, such as Corpse Bride or Coraline.  The characters and story are simplistic, almost childish at times.  The music is good, sure, but with all the hype around it, the movie can very much seem….overrated.

Once again: Why?

It all boils down to uniqueness.

In 1993, Tim Burton was still relatively new to audiences.  Directing since 1985, his biggest hits had been the likes of horror-comedy Beetlejuice, superhero blockbuster Batman, and drama flick Edward Scissorhands.  In other words, the world was still being introduced to the styles that we are currently familiar with: use of Johnny Depp, score by Danny Elfman, stripes, German Expressionism, and pale-skinned, dark haired, sunken-eyed outcast protagonists.  Thanks to the sheer number of Signature Style Burton-esque films, The Nightmare Before Christmas no longer seems like anything all that special in terms of style of film, but at the time, it was something very new, distinct, and different.

The same goes for the stop-motion aspect.

The stop-motion ‘weird’ films that we are the most familiar with: (Corpse Bride, James and the Giant Peach, Frankenweenie, ParaNorman) have all come after The Nightmare Before Christmas.  Before Nightmare, stop-motion’s biggest claim to fame were the Rankin/Bass Christmas specials.  The Nightmare Before Christmas revolutionized and reawakened the style of filmmaking and started a new form of animation that is being used since.  Once again, it all comes down to that uniqueness of the time, especially when it applies to the story.

The story of The Nightmare Before Christmas, despite its aforementioned simplicity, is a rather unique one.  The idea came to Burton while watching Halloween decorations come down at the same time Christmas decorations were being put up, and the movie is really all about the juxtaposition between the holidays.  Jack Skellington, the king of Halloweentown, is dissatisfied with the ‘same old thing’ and decides to try something new.  The ‘new thing’ that captivates his interest turns out to be another huge holiday: Christmas.  Full of excitement at this strange new holiday, Jack decides to get the person in charge of Christmas out of the way (Santa Claus) and take Christmas for himself, assigning the denizens of Halloweentown the tasks necessary to bring about the festive holiday.

Being from Halloweentown, of course, Jack doesn’t fully understand Christmas, despite his frantic attempts to do so, and in the end, Christmas is a disaster, thanks to his botched interpretation of what makes the holiday.  In the end, Jack learns not to meddle with things he doesn’t understand, and the movie ends at around 75 minutes.

As basic as it is, the idea of one holiday trying to do another is pretty creative, as is the way it is done.  The concept of holiday worlds, based on the special day is extremely interesting, and it’s executed well.  In fact, when looking at the film for what and when it was, The Nightmare Before Christmas was actually very creative in everything, characters, the visual look, the way it was done, story, even the music by Danny Elfman is very fitting to the story and characters, and it’s all very catchy.

When contextualized into the time period it was made in, The Nightmare Before Christmas, for all it may seem stale and overdone now, was fresh and unique, noteworthy for being something audiences haven’t seen before.  

There’s more to the intense popularity of this film than quirkiness, though.

What I said earlier about the film being basic?  That is actually a point in its favor.

One of the remarkable things about The Nightmare Before Christmas is that, for having a reasonably complex concept, it’s execution is very simple.  The story never makes itself more complicated than it has to be.  It’s very straightforward, with no plot twists or surprises for the audience.  The direction the story takes is predictable, but that’s by no means bad.  Not only is the story uncomplicated, but the meaning is as well.

It isn’t hard for people to understand Jack’s predicament, nor is it difficult for even the youngest kid to know that his endeavors to make Christmas are doomed to failure, because they pick up that Jack does not understand what he is trying to do.  He has the feeling right, but he has no constructive direction to take it, and with a lack of understanding, ends up creating a mess.

Jack’s enthusiasm is for the holiday spirit, and it’s contagious, no matter which holiday you consider.  By never trying to ‘explain’ the good feelings of the holidays and just letting them be, The Nightmare Before Christmas actually continues a trend that one wouldn’t think it has much to do with at all.

In my opinion, the hype behind The Nightmare Before Christmas, especially in the up-and-coming generations, is much the same reason that Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is still talked about by the older generations.  The holiday feeling.

Jack experiences the joy of Christmas without knowing why.  Despite his best efforts, he cannot decipher the whys and wherefores of it, he just accepts that ‘just because I cannot see it doesn’t mean I can’t believe it!’.  This tone, this viewpoint towards the holiday of simply enjoying it, is reminiscent of Christmas specials like How the Grinch Stole Christmas or the Rankin/Bass stop-motion productions.  It evokes nostalgic feelings for the holiday.  The Nightmare Before Christmas is to the post 90s generation what the other animated Christmas specials were to the ones before it: the traditional, good-feelings, familiar celebration of the holiday.

Most importantly though, it’s a film that people enjoy watching.

With a unique concept, design, and execution, nostalgic feelings and holiday warmth, and it just being a generally fun, charming movie, it’s not really a true wonder why The Nightmare Before Christmas got as popular as it did.

Is it overhyped?  Yes.  

Does that make the movie itself any worse?  No.  It just means that audience expectations are affected by the culture around it, some for the better, some for the worse.

Of course, it’s not a movie for everybody.  Some will like it more than others.  Some might love it, some might hate it, and some might just be okay with it.  But that goes for any film.

The Nightmare Before Christmas is a cultural juggernaut, that’s for certain, and I doubt we’ll be seeing any fewer Oogie Boogie coin banks in the near future, but that’s more a reflection on the commercialism of film since 1977 (Thanks, George Lucas!) and how much people are willing to buy to reflect their tastes in film.  My point is, the movie is still popular enough that people buy stuff connected to it because they like it.

And that’s not a bad thing.  It’s a good movie, remarkably simple, but smart enough to hold up years later and continue to emotionally resonate with audiences.  It was something that no one had ever seen before at the time, and is packed full of enough distinctive style and imagery that it is still instantly recognizable as being from The Nightmare Before Christmas.  It’s an immensely popular film for a reason, and it’s not going away anytime soon.

Thank you all so much for reading!  If you have any thoughts, questions, comments, suggestions, or just want to say hi, feel free to leave them in the ask box, I’d love to hear from you.  I hope you guys enjoyed this article, and I hope to see you in the next one.

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New On the Job

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part One: The Beginning

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n was job searching, looking for a new place to work as an escape to her, then, current job; she’d been denied every pitch she had, yet she worked her ass off with zero recognition. Writing was her passion and her dream job laid in the hands of a magazine company in the city. Will the combination of her sexual frustration and her competitive nature cause her to risk her biggest dream for a blue eyed coworker?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! 

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here!

I flattened my skirt with nervous hands in which had already clammed up with excitement. The day had finally come where I’d start my new job as print journalist at Essence, a small but ever-growing lifestyle magazine company. My heels clacked against the wood floor as I quietly greeted the receptionist before making my way into the elevator. Pressing the button with my knuckle and waiting for the doors to open, I found myself playing with the ruffled sleeves of my blouse, seeking something to pass the inevitable time in which my impatience could not handle. Once the doors had opened, I quickly slid inside—pressing the third floor button almost immediately—before taking this intermission as a chance to double-check my appearance.

I used the front camera on my phone as a mirror, as I played with my hair, making sure it fell in the same loose waves I had styled before I left my apartment that morning. I also made sure the subtle lip stain that tinted my lips was still in tact as well, making me smile in content at my reflection before putting my phone away in my purse as the elevator doors opened again, revealing my arrival to my destination. I took a left, approaching Lauren Sawyer’s office, the CEO of the company, just like I’d done for my interview. Although the rollercoaster-falling feeling in my stomach was similar to the feeling I’d had during the interview, this was a different kind of excitement; now, I actually had the job. With three knocks to her wooden door and a few seconds of the somehow-intimidating door staring back at me, she swung the door opened and smiled in realization of my presence.

“Y/n, welcome to the office!” she greeted me proudly, holding her hand out to shake.

“Officially this time,” I added with a toothy smile, grabbing her hand to reciprocate her firm shake.

“I cannot wait to show you your new desk and give you an official tour of the building!” She gushed, exiting her office and heading straight down the minute hallway to the right of the elevator, which then opened up to a wide room with multiple rows of desks.

The left wall had exposed brick with huge windows lining the whole thing, looking out to the busy streets of New York. The entire room was filled with the sounds of people typing on their keyboards, but it was the perfect welcoming for my writer’s soul.

“I want you to meet a few people before we get started,” she informed me, leading me up past rows and rows of people, taking turns staring at their computer screens and keyboards back and forth with focus written on their facial features.

She walked in between rows of people working and typing away, some looking up from their screens and glancing at the new presence. The rows consisted of tables large enough to fit about three people on each side, facing towards each other with their computers dividing them. She finally came to a stop to a woman in a floral dress and short ginger hair. She had big, black headphones sitting on her head as she stared at the screen in front of her while she typed quickly. As she finally noticed Lauren and I, she quickly grasped the headphones and tore them off of her head, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Sorry, I didn’t even see you guys,” she apologized with a soft voice.

“No need to apologize for being focused,” Lauren gleamed at her. She gestured her arm out to me. “This is Y/n, she’s a new print journalist.”

I stuck my hand out, which the girl gladly took into her own with a gentle shake. She looked young, looking about my age, maybe even younger.

“I’m Faith,” she introduced, before returning her delicate hand to her lap.

“Faith is another one of our print journalists. She’s been working here for about two years now, so if you have any questions, she’ll be able to answer them for you. I think you two will get along lovely,” Lauren informed me.

After introducing me to Faith, she introduced me to the other print journalists for the company, some of which I could tell took their job more seriously than others. Then, she introduced me to the editors. She walked over to a desk where a brunette male sat, seeming to be multitasking by sipping at a coffee and typing at the same time.

“This is Dean, he’s one of our sub-editors. His job is to make sure our print journalists, like you, compose work that’s grammatically and factually correct. He works closely with the art team as well, to make sure the images and words compliment each other perfectly,” she explained.

“Don’t make me sound too perfect, you know I’m always screwin’ around with George,” he joked, making Lauren roll her eyes. With this, he revealed a thick British accent, startling me.

“Sometimes I wish that sub-editors didn’t have to work so closely with the art team,” she sighed, laughing. “If you find yourself working with him, you’ll no doubt find yourself meeting George, too; I can’t seem to separate the pair, it’s like trying to separate two best friends from working on a school project together.”

“Hey, we accomplish loads together! We’re a great team, George and I,” he defended.

“He’s right,” she said in defeat, looking at me. “But I won’t admit that to him.” She winked.

After leaving the brunette to his work, she gave me a tour of the whole building before finally showing me to my desk. It sat next to the window, and there was enough individual space that I could decorate with a few things. It wasn’t ideal for my mild claustrophobia, but it was manageable. I was at least thankful I wasn’t sat in the middle of the row, with people on both sides of me.

I also ended up being sat across from Dean, the brunette sub-editor. I didn’t mind, I thought she’d actually given me an advantage, being physically close to someone I’d have to work closely with. Lauren had also informed me that there would be a meeting with the journalists and editors in an hour from then about new content ideas, which would be a good experience for me to listen to and take mental notes. About ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, Dean stood up and offered me to join him for the meeting, as he figured I may have trouble remembering where the specific conference room was; I hadn’t been able to memorize the complicated large building yet, anyway. I accepted his invitation, and followed him through a hallway.

“Lauren’s kind of shit at training new people,” he confessed, leading me through the twists and turns of the building.

“I’m not even sure where to get started,” I admitted, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I’m sure one of the other writers can help you with that,” he elaborated. “I can help you with the process of sending the writing to the sub-editors, but I don’t have much knowledge about the actual writing aspect.”

He stopped in front of a door, opening it for me, revealing others I’d previously met, all sat at a long table. The table faced a whiteboard with messy handwriting already scribbled onto it. He pulled a seat out for me, making me blush and seat myself before he took a seat next to me. The head editor I’d been introduced to earlier strolled into the room alongside her PA, her assistant, who scurried over to an empty seat with a laptop. The head editor, who I’d forgotten and was reminded of her name Connie, cleared her throat before starting the meeting.

She began by explaining that they were in need of article ideas for the following weeks. She started with the beauty and fashion editors, as we all listened to them pitch ideas. It was interesting, hearing the pop culture references they were coming up with, as this had been new territory compared to my last job. Once they had come up with ideas and deadlines, she focused on the article ideas for the journalists.

Faith, the ginger-fellow-journalist, cleared her throat before speaking. “I was actually able to get in contact with one of the producers of The Bachelor, and I was thinking of conducting a Skype interview.”

“That’s wonderful! Get that interview scheduled as soon as possible and let’s talk about deadlines later,” Connie ordered, in awe of Faith’s plan.

Other journalists began speaking up, all trying to impress Connie just as much as Faith had. With the pressure and the new environment, I wasn’t able to come up with anything myself. My silence caught Connie’s attention, dragging her emerald eyes toward my shy y/e/c ones.

“I don’t expect you to come up with anything just yet, Y/n; after all, it is your first day,” she reassured me. “However, make sure you use this week to your advantage by taking notes. And, I expect a pitch from you next week.”

I nodded sharply at her instructions, before listening in on the rest of the pitches and deadline dates. She called the meeting to an end soon enough, everyone exiting the room at once in attempt to get to their keyboards as quickly as possible. I followed behind Dean quietly, mind filled with endless thoughts concluding my first meeting at Essence. Dean could sense this, as he spoke up once we’d gotten back to our desks.

“Connie can be a bit intense.” His thick British accent seeping through.

I laughed dryly. “You think?”

I began looking and reading through articles on the Essence website, taking notes. I’d made a separate document page for these specific notes, leaving specific quotations that inspired me and that I felt were important for me to remember. After reading for hours and ignoring the strain in my eyes, I was interrupted by the grumbling of my stomach. I frowned, looking at the small clock in the corner of my computer screen. It read 1:03 pm, meaning I’d missed lunch. I got up from my seat and walked over to the cafeteria, relying on my memory as navigation. The small “cafeteria” held a snack bar, a cabinet set filled with snacks and food, and other kitchen supplies like a fridge, sink, and a microwave.

I decided to make myself a salad from the snack bar and adding a side of cashews to keep me full until dinner. I brought the plate back to my desk and went on my phone, replying back to the texts my roommate had sent me throughout the morning.

“Y/n, what’s your email?”

I looked up from my phone screen and to the brunette across from me, swallowing the bits of lettuce that I’d been chewing for longer than usual. 

“Just for the future,” he added to normalize his question. I nodded quickly and looked around for something to write on.

“Right, um...” I grabbed a sticky-note from my purse and scribbled my email address onto it before reaching over and handing it to him. 

“Thanks,” he stuck the sticky-note onto the table next to his keyboard and resumed typing. 

I turned my attention back onto my salad and my phone screen, continuing to digitally converse with my roommate. My phone buzzed with an email notification, as my head spun to my computer screen. I opened up a new tab, signing into my email in curiosity. I clicked on the new email from the email address “deanchapman7″. Opening up the email, there was a meme image with nothing else attached. I laughed out loud, bringing my hand to my mouth at the sudden reaction. I leaned over to look at him, biting back giggles, as he looked at me innocently. 

“What's so funny?” he smirked.

I shook my head before searching through the memes on my phone, sending myself one of my favorites, before sending it to him. As soon as I heard his mouse click, he snorted and leaned over to look at me from his computer. I copied his previous innocent composure.

“What’s so funny?” I chewed on my lip. He rolled his eyes, before returning his blue irises back to his screen. 

I brought my eyes back to my phone screen, immediately telling my roommate that I’d made a new friend already. With a finished lunch and some more note-taking, the day came to an end as I watched the sun set on the city through the window beside me; that was something I could get used to.

The next day, I had a full day of note-taking ahead of me that I couldn’t say I was looking forward to. I greeted the brunette across from me, as he sipped at his coffee and waved back at me silently, acknowledging my presence but was too caught up in his work to carry a conversation at that moment. I opened my document and pulled up some more articles and began my venture into more endless note-taking. I’d also taken a break to order a pair of Bluetooth headphones from Amazon, since most of my coworkers seemed to have them on their head while working. I wondered if they were listening to music or a podcast while working, and if so, then maybe that helped them focus.

I watched over as Dean aggressively typed across from me before groaning and covering his face with his palms. He rubbed his eyes, standing up and exiting the office, heading down one of the hallways. I bit my lip in curiosity at this sudden outburst, but returned to my work. 

“Excuse me?”

I looked up across from me to see a tall man leaning against Dean’s desk, looking at me. He had dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and his eyebrows seemed to be furrowed in frustration. 

I cleared my throat. “Uhm, yes?”

“Have you seen Dean anywhere? I need to talk to him about something, but he hasn’t been answering my emails,” he surprised me with his British accent, matching Dean’s. Do a lot of people have British accents here?

“Uh,” I stuttered, trying to come up with words as his facial features distracted me. His hair was styled upwards, strands forming soft waves. “He just left not too long ago.” I blurted, pointing towards the hallway in which Dean had exited to.

The man sighed, running his hand through his hair and flaring his nostrils. 

“When he comes back, can you tell him that George was here looking for him?”

“Yes, of course,” my voice hitting a pitch slightly higher than my normal tone. I watched as he stomped away, before stopping in his tracks and turning on his heel, facing me once again. I felt a lump in my throat as his irises scanned my face.

“Are you new here?” he asked, his previous frustration washed away as his tone sounded more innocent this time. 

I nodded, trying my best not to blush under his stare.

“I started here yesterday, I’m a new print journalist,” I stated, trying to sound as professional as I could with his attention on me.

“I’m George, I’m Dean’s mate; I’m the art director here.” He leant forward onto Dean’s desk again, sticking out his hand for me to shake it. 

So that’s George. I grabbed his hand and gave it a delicate shake, watching as he maintained eye contact for a moment before letting go. 

“Judging where he left, I’m thinking he went to go find me,” George laughed, running another hand through his hair and resting the other on his hip. I stared at his navy blue button up, which fit him just right, and his slacks. My eyes traveled to his belt before quickly looking away and mentally cursing myself for looking at him so intimately. 

“He seemed upset when he left,” I admitted, recalling his groan and the way he’d put his face in his hands. 

“Ah,” George clicked his tongue. “That would be my fault. Well, not my fault, but the contents in my email regarding one of the picture editors. Long story short, someone fucked up and it interferes with his deadline. Poor bastard.”

“Jesus, that doesn't sound good,” I chewed on my lip, not quite sure what to say, but wanting to carry on the conversation. 

He laughed, flashing a smile I wish I hadn’t seen, because it made him even more attractive. I was practically jelly in my chair at his point. 

“Yeah, we’ll get it sorted out; we always do,” he confessed with a closed-lip smile. “Well, it was nice seeing you...”

“Y/n,” I introduced with a sheepish smile.

“Y/n,” he corrected himself. “Tell Dean I was lookin’ for him?” 

I nodded. “Will do, as long as he’s not still pissed off; that was kind of scary.”

He laughed again, crinkles by his eyes appearing. 

“Dean? Scary? Bloke’s a teddy bear!” he exclaimed. “Dean wouldn’t hurt a fly. He just gets overwhelmed sometimes, but what sub-editor doesn’t?”

I smiled at his comparison between Dean and a teddy bear. George was right, the brunette seemed extremely kind. I thought back to the day before, when he’d asked me for my email address to send me a meme. Suddenly, Dean appeared from the hallway he'd disappeared into earlier, widening his eyes at George.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, mate!”

“As have I,” George responded, a lot more calmly. “I met your new desk mate too, by the way, she's lovely.”

I could feel my cheeks turning scarlet at that point due to his compliment. His accent extended the weight of his words, and I knew there was no way I didn’t look like a tomato. Dean looked over to me and sent me a smile.

“Sorry about this idiot,” he glared at his friend, who rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Let’s go to my office,” George suggested. 

And with that, the boys took off toward the elevator. I watched as they walked together, backs turned towards me, before George turned his head to me for a moment, looking at me one last time before they disappeared. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath before I was practically gasping for air. My hands went to my cheeks, which to my expectations, were on fire. I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustrated with my cheeks habitually turning red every time I was in the least bit embarrassed. 

I looked across from me at Dean’s empty desk, where George had been leaning against, looking at me, just minutes ago. I chewed on my bottom lip, remembering the way his hair looked, the way his hand felt, the way his eyes bore into mine. I had to pinch myself to discontinue the thoughts, remembering that I was at my job. He’s probably slept with every woman in this office, I thought to myself. That thought made me sick, sick enough to quiet my thoughts about him and resume my work. It wasn’t possible for a man that handsome to be such a gentlemen, there had to be something nasty about him. With the effect he had on me, I wondered if he used his charm on other girls in order to get them to sleep with him. That had to be it, right? I hoped that I wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon, not sure what I’d do and what thoughts I’d have again. But a small part of me, deep down, begged to see him again.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Dressed Up, Part 1 of 2 (An I Give Up Deleted Scene)

Genre: Fluff / Sexually Suggestive Situations(15+)

Characters : You x Baekhyun

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Warnings: a pretty woman makeover, nudity, an attempt at seduction via video call, Houston we have a sugar daddy.

[Part 2]

IGU Deleted scenes masterlist

This shop wasn’t your usual style. What was your usual style? The sale rack at that department store in the mall. This place was definitely not your style. The second you walked in you could feel it. There was a mild and pleasant fragrance wafting around your nose as you stepped through the double french doors and from the corner of your eye you saw a woman dressed smartly with a tasteful pencil skirt and heels that were not too high for a full shift of standing on her feet.

If she made any judgements about you upon entering the store, she kept them to herself. The fact that you didn’t quite fit the look of this boutique’s typical clientele wasn't lost on you and you nearly spun on your heels right on out that door before she was able to call out her welcoming greeting.

‘Something nice. This is going to be black-tie so go buy something nice. Ask the shop ladies for suggestions…’

You couldn’t leave. The company party was tonight and you’d be damned if you would be the only one wearing a five year old sale rack little black dress from the back of your closet. You didn’t even want to think about the complaining such a move would produce from Baekhyun. You’d surely never hear the end of it.

The woman in the tasteful heels immediately approached you with a stepford-wife smile on her face. You’d taken seven steps inside and weren’t circling around toward the exit despite glancing at the first tiny price-tag that hung from the sleeve of a plain white designer blouse. It wasn’t even that fancy of a blouse. It just had round pearled buttons going down the front and looked like it might even be a bit see through in the right lighting and -- sweet jesus, it was thousands of dollars. For a white shirt. Your eyes widened on their own and immediately you shook away the queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

‘...and please, just don't look at the prices. Please just ignore that...for me, huh? Like the way I ignored the six packages of sausages you accidentally threw away because the lighting was bad and you thought that they were expired when they totally weren’t and I just ignored it and cried silently in the bathroom because of all those delicious sausages that I had just bought and you threw them all — just….’

His heavy breathing echoed into your ear and you could practically feel the heat from his lungs coating your eardrum with his frustrating memory of that single week when you’d been on an obsessive cleaning kick since watching Marie Kondo saving counter space and saving lives in the process.

‘Just ignore the price. Like I ignored the second love of my life being wasted like...like some common garbage. Please...do this for me, as the first love of my life...’

Was this really the right place? You had checked the address for the boutique three times in your phone before you even exited the taxi cab and it all seemed to match. This was the honest to god place, Byun Baekhyun, your foolishly loveable husband, had sent you to buy your evening gown for tonight’s party. You had an appointment at a salon after this and you didn’t quite know how you would get through the evening in one piece after all the strangers and their fussing.

Baekhyun had asked you to come. Baekhyun wanted you there and it was an important evening to him. A social event with the influential, the powerful, the up-and-comings in his industry and with his friends and he wanted you, his (still secret) wife on his arm. You were certain he would be dressed impeccably with a tailored suit, shined shoes, full hair and makeup no doubt. If there was one irrefutable fact about the man, it was that he thrived when he looked good. And he was going to outshine all others. The least you could do was put forth a little effort.

“Welcome, Miss,” the woman spoke up at last and your smile felt entirely too tense to look natural on your face. “Mr. Byun called ahead. If you would follow me, we have a selection of pieces for you to try.”

Pieces. They called the dresses pieces which meant they surely would carry a price-tag that rivaled some of the art that hung on the wall of that exclusive art gallery you saw next door.

And he called them ahead for you?

Of course he did. That was probably going to be the least surprising thing about this entire evening. That Baekhyun was simply unable to contain his excitement about a fancy schmancy dress up party which the both of you were attending together; of course he couldn't resist getting in on the decision making. You wondered what sorts of dresses he’d instructed them to pick. You wondered if he paid any attention at all to keeping within some sort of a budget. That sort of thing didn’t really seem appropriate in a place like this though.

You found yourself seated in an armchair and beside you sat a crystal glass with cold ice water. You began to reach for it, but quickly pulled your hand back as images of knocking the whole thing over on yourself played through your mind.

There was but a pause to breathe before the parade began. Young women with matching uniforms all carrying evening gowns in different shades and styles all walked before you with their smiles pasted firmly to their faces and their eyes all fallen down just so. You’d been so caught off guard by the fact that not a single one of them would look you in the eyes that you forgot to look at the first five dresses that passed you by.

It wasn’t until the color red popped like a bubble in your field of vision and pulled your focus down to the gown that was making its way directly in front of you and you looked down at it and...and...

Oh.

Oh my, that was…

You sat up straighter -- a gut reaction -- and the woman carrying the red gown stopped her movement the moment you flinched.

“Can I just…” You hated to interrupt their little show, but this one felt different than the others somehow. Despite with the way it hung lifelessly in her arms like a deflated balloon you could see the quality of the sheer fabric that draped over the floral lace bodice below. The neckline below the tulle plunged deep and from the look of it, the skin-tone fabric bodice gave the illusion of showing a lot more skin than it actually did.

You couldn’t possibly pull this dress off, could you?

“Ahh, the Valentino. Excellent choice — bring that one. She will wear the Valentino.” A voice boomed from somewhere behind you and the once quiet sales woman that initially greeted you was clapping her hands as she directed her army of dress-cradling women to leave the room. Only a select few remained for the fitting.

As you threw away your reservations of disrobing in front of a room full of eerily quiet strangers, you placed your first tentative foot inside the open gown and as it was pulled up and closed up around you, one thing about this dress became abundantly clear.

You weren’t just wearing the Valentino.

Oh, no.

The Valentino was wearing you.

Your first spin to face the triple mirrors that lined the wall had you under a spell and the flow of fabric that swayed and followed your spin made you feel powerful. Perhaps it was the very real skin just above your navel that was made visible by the deep plunge of the neckline below the red tulle, or perhaps it was the way the contoured lace fabric hugged your breasts, leaving them covered while giving the illusion of leaving them bare -- and the curve around your hips that cinched around your waist and flattered the shape of you -- but, wow, this dress was incredible. This dress hugged your every curve as if it were created with only you in the designer‘s mind.

This dress was...yours. Marie might even say that it sparked joy in a way that no other garment that had been placed upon your skin in this lifetime had ever done before.

The bright overhead lights brought out a sparkle in your eyes that made you feel like a hundred carat engagement ring sitting inside a locked display case of the finest jewelry store in all of the world and as you ran your fingers down the curve of your hips, finding the spot where the under dress ended up high on your thighs and the sheer red continued as if it’s only job was to tease at the idea of a covering -- you visibly swooned.

“How much is this one?” Your voice sounded dreamy, heavily affected and almost drunk, and you caught a glimpse of humanity as you made a split second of eye contact with one of the women who had helped you into the dress. As quickly as it happened, she looked away from your face and into the face of the shop woman behind you, but her cheeks were pink -- her eyelids fluttered rapidly. It was a hairline crack in her composure. The slip of the woman made your cheeks feel flush and you remembered where you were and who you were and what kinds of questions the patrons of this shop didn’t usually ask outloud. You wondered if in another life, you and this young woman who steadied her gaze away from your prying eyes, might have been friends.

“It’s within the budget, Miss,” the shop woman said.

“There is a budget?” This time your question was genuine curiosity and you lifted your brows and spun to look into her amused face.

“There is a minimum budget, yes.”

Impossible. He was impossible.

“Just tell me how many zeroes.” It felt like bargaining with the enemy at this point and the stitched floral design in the lace bodice had some sparkle to it when you rocked your hips back and forth in this lighting. It was probably hand stitched by an expert seamstress. Someone had loved this fabric with their fingertips and a needle and sterling thread and you hoped their hard work had been handsomely rewarded.

She had gone quiet behind you and you figured her bonus was at stake if she spilled the beans your dear husband had insisted she keep a tight lid on so you lifted your chin and let out a sigh of defeat.

“I’ll pay with my own card.” It looked like defeat to the casual observer. Yes, you were using the card he gave you and yes, it was funded by his money. Yes, he would get a text message that the card was used with the purchase amount and location but the benefit of using your own card meant that you would also get the same text message.

If it was too much you could always just return it then and there, right?

Maybe you could go to the mall and find something there that looked just like this if you squinted and covered one eye as you looked at it.

Your card was already swiped and yet, the dress that had just been charged was nowhere in sight. There was a second where you paused and your eyes wandered over the faces of the shop attendants with just a hint of a question on the tip of your tongue. Your card was quietly returned by the sales woman and her smile preceded her answer to your unspoken question.

“We will have it delivered to your home within the hour.”

Oh, right. Rich people didn’t carry bags. Well, except for the designer ones hung over their limp wrists with the logo facing outward for all to see.

It was for the best anyway, you had two more stops to make before checking in with the dog sitter for the evening. She, a young girl named Sunny, had been highly recommended by one of Baekhyun’s bandmates for her reliability and patience with young puppies. In fact, she was going to be taking care of two poodles that belonged to another member tonight along with your and Baekhyun’s new puppy. You tried not to worry too much for the tiny ball of fluff. After listening in on Baekhyun’s phone call with Sunny, you were certain the poor girl had been given plenty of helicopter-parent instructions from him, she didn’t need your worried phone calls to add to the mix.

You were already on your way through the double french doors of the shoe shop when you felt the vibration of your cell phone through the layers of your leather bag against your hip.

That would be it; the text message alerting the card holder that their credit card had been used to purchase a, most likely, obscenely expensive garment that would be worn exactly one time. Did you dare look? Maybe looking was a bad idea. Maybe when you looked you would lose the nerve to make your way through the double french doors of the designer shoe store that was next on your itinerary.

Your fingers felt itchy. The back of the taxi was quiet enough to hear the sound of your cell phone calling out your name, telling you to check to see what the damage was so you could begin freaking out already.

You were powerless to stop yourself and as you pulled your cell phone out of your bag you felt it vibrating again, this time for a new text messages that had just arrived.

On your screen, just above the notification that read ‘A transaction has been made on your credit card in the amount of…’, sat a new text message notification from ‘Curry & Chocolate’ and you clicked there first. Would Baekhyun have something to say about how much the dress cost? Would he shake his head that you had squandered so much of his hard earned money on something so frivolous and wasteful?

‘Omgomgomgomgomg asdflakdfja;lkjfa … which one did you get?!!!’

This was followed immediately by a message that read ‘WAIT NO DON’T TELL ME!! I want to be surprised,’ that was succeeded by every single heart emoji he could find in his phone’s keyboard.

You hadn’t actually ever done this before. Gone shopping without him, spending vast amounts of money on yourself like this, and you could see the excitement in the messages that came one after another on your phone.

‘Is it too pretty? What if you look too pretty and i faint in public?’

‘It’s not like this is our wedding day -- you can send me a picture as you’re getting ready, so i can prepare myself, right?’

His enthusiasm was adorable and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from giggling all alone in the back seat of this taxi.  

‘No, don't send me a picture. I want to be surprised. I’ll just drop dead, it’s okay. I’ll die happy.’

Knowing Baekhyun as well as you did, you knew that his meandering mind would eventually settle itself on its own and you didn’t have to respond to these messages with anything except for a few heart emojis and a quick reminder that you were still not done shopping for tonight. You replied that you had just arrived at the shoe store and would be quite busy in the salon for hair and makeup shortly after.

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting. The fancy dress store had lead you into a false sense of security that made you forget that designer shoes were just as ridiculously overpriced as designer fashion was and you sighed right out loud as you handed over your card to pay for the strappy heels with the blood red lacquered soles whose designer’s name you couldn't even spell without the assistance of autocorrect and you swallowed down the guilt that you would be wearing something on your feet that, if sold, would feed a family of four for several months.

Your hands were shaking when you signed the receipt and when your phone vibrated again, alerting you of the charge to your card, you cursed at your ability to do mental math as you began to tally up the totals.

Of course he texted you again after the bank did and the diamond and heart emojis that he sent did not help ease any of the guilt, despite the weirdly obvious clues that he was somehow having a fun time watching you spend so much of his money. At this rate, you would be the most expensive thing on his arm tonight — blowing out of the water, the hefty price tags of any of the fancy watches he could choose from to adorn his wrist. Even if he wore them all at once, they would not compare.

Your nails were done; hands and feet to match the red of the Valentino (because everything else should fall in line when this dress was clearly the one in charge) -- your hair was halfway there and the makeup on your face was pristine and set with products that the beautician swore would not budge all night long and all you wanted to do was curl up and take a nap by the time you were done with all the card swiping and receipt signing.

You had a schedule to keep though, and once through the doors of your home you were called back to the ringing doorbell when the deliveries started. First it was the dress, shoes; a new clutch for tonight’s essentials and when the door rang again you glanced around at all of the crisp and expensive packages, taking a quick inventory and coming up with a new question mark. Everything you had purchases today had already been received, yet the young man in the classy suit who stood at your door was holding a package in his hands with the markings from a store you had not visited today.

You were friendly enough although hesitant to receive this latest delivery for fear that it had somehow been sent in error. The man in the suit smiled wider and urged your focus down, pushed the package closer to you and his eyes begged you to just take it already. When he confirmed your name and you admitted that, yes, you were the person he sought out you really had no other move but to finally accept what he was offering.

You felt downright funny about this. The package was small; not another evening gown or pair of shoes. You’d seen enough of high priced boutiques today to recognize that this item was of a similar source. Only as you reached inside and pulled out the heavy black clamshell case, you knew immediately that you were handling expensive jewelry and you definitely had not visited a jewelry store in your shopping today.

Inside, the clamshell was velvet lined and housed a set of jewelry — sparkling diamonds, lots and lots of them. You saw teardrop earrings that matched a diamond necklace and even a delicate bracelet with the sparkling stones going all the way around and you set the whole thing down onto your granite kitchen countertop to get a good look at the way the stones took ahold of the fluorescent lights above your head and shot them back at you from all directions. The sparkles were astounding. The cuts of each stone overwhelmed and you also had to get a good breath of air into your lungs because you honestly had been holding your breath as you stared at the gorgeous jewels before you.

It was too much...but at this point would such a statement even make any difference? It was already here in your hands.

You pulled your phone out and snapped a shot of the jewelry, slightly annoyed that your phone’s camera couldn't capture the full range of sparkle, and you sent the image to your husband.

‘Please tell me this is rented.’

He didn’t respond to your text message and the longer you looked down at the jewelry, the prettier the sparkle of those stones looked once you moved in the recessed lighting of your bedroom.

The more you touched them and handled them and held the necklace up against your neck or the earrings up to your ears, the more beautiful the image of those diamonds adorning your skin made you feel and when you stood in front of floor length mirror in your spacious bathroom you were wearing them all, and you wore absolutely nothing else to compete with the sparks of light shooting off of those precious stones that decorated your body -- and oh, you felt it.

The priceless and perfect, here and now.

You felt like possibly a million bucks even well before you put on the dress and everything else this man had already provided for you.

This was his mark. The strands of diamonds that completely encircled your wrist, throwing fire with each slight movement of your hand over the bare skin as you raked perfectly manicured nails over one bare breast. You watched the light travel over your skin and you felt the traces of him all over you.

The shine of the biggest stone, seated over the hollow of your neck, where his lips and teeth had tasted your skin countless times, that stone there beckoned to you with the sweet softness of his voice - mine, mine, mine, as he often called out in the warm pauses between breaths.

An urge was brewing inside of your chest. Below where the diamond sat, deeper inside where with each of your deepest inhales could not seem to satiate. Your slow exhale only quenched the superficial need for air, but this urge ran deeper.

This was not something you and he did.

You had never allowed it before — extravagant and expensive gifts. Sure he had tried in the past but you had put up enough of a fuss about the price of things he gifted you, and the unfairness of it. That you could never match the price tag with the things you bought him. You’d made it clear that this sort of disparity irked you and he had always followed along, choosing instead gifts with more sentimental value than monetary value and you and him both treasured the meaning behind these gestures above all else.

But this—

What would be his meaning behind the diamonds?

That tonight was such a special occasion and your ensemble required only the absolute finest embellishment. Ornate, gilded, and as beautiful as the love you felt when you looked into his eyes.

Was this how Baekhyun wanted to show off his love for you? Could his intentions be this obvious?

A single faint vibration sounded from the dresser of your bedroom and you pulled your eyes from the mirror for a moment.

‘What are you doing~’

He couldn’t have possibly been bored. He was supposed to be getting ready for tonight, and you knew he had less than an hour before he had to be at the venue and you had been scheduled to arrive within the following hour to keep the photographers, who likely camped outside, in the dark about the true nature of your relationship with your very successful and very important idol.

‘I am trying on the diamonds’

It wasn’t, ‘I am googling the price’ or ‘I am returning them to the store’, instead you were uncharacteristically and alarmingly honest about just how weak this particular set of jewelry had made you. Perhaps it had been the entire day of shopping and your sense of proper wifely behavior had been thrown off, but that urge that sat inside of your chest swelled up again, inflating your lungs and making the lights from the ceiling reflect beautifully off the enormous diamond that hung around your neck.

When you turned your head, the teardrops hanging from your ears swayed with the movement and you tucked an invisible strand of hair behind your ear to watch the delicate way your bracelet slid over your arm with the motion.

‘Oh?’

His response was tentative. It was the tip of a toe dipped into a swimming pool and pulled back out again. Only to check the temperature, of course. He wasn’t about to dive in just yet.

The deliberate silence that followed that single syllable word was an advanced tactic that you had been entirely unprepared for and you held your phone in one hand looking down at the screen, simply unable to believe that he had no follow up inquiry for you.

He wasn’t even typing.

He had gone completely silent after that gentle and soft nudge that had filled you with so much curiosity and tension that it sent your thumbs down hard on the screen of your phone. You hit a few random letters and deleted them, surely giving away your obvious unrest after his ploy.

Didn’t he have anything else to ask you? Didn’t he want to know if you liked them, or maybe give you some details about how he just happened to run across this particular set of jewelry that looked as if it were made specifically with your tastes in mind when you had been given less than three days notice about this entire event and the fact that you would be attending had been well up in the air until this very morning. Did he really have nothing more to say?

You were being baited.  You knew this.

‘They are very, very beautiful, Baek...’

It worked.

You had barely hit send when you saw the graphic on your screen that told you he was typing out a response.

He had been waiting it out.

‘Can I see?’

The air surrounding your bare skin had, prior to his simple question, felt quite warm and comfortable in temperature, yet the second you read his request you felt a chill run along your bare thighs; traveling quickly without a clear destination. It spread over your skin, pulling and puckering up your nipples and leaving the surface of your skin rough with goosebumps that reached well to the back of your neck.

As quick as the chill, came the heat and the surface of your cheeks felt warm to the touch as you typed out a three word response to the man who held more power over you than any other soul to walk this earth.

‘Are you alone?’

Baekhyun’s reply came without delay.

‘Mhmm’

Your fingertip stuttered for only a moment and you toyed with the decision.

You shouldn’t encourage this, the lavish spending you had always denied. You shouldn’t reward it.

And yet, a set of jewelry had never quite made you feel this way before. Sure, the tasteful diamond solitaire ring you wore on your finger was the symbol that brought all the warmth and love to the surface of your mind every time you looked down at it.

But this, it was Byun Baekhyun polished and sparkling bright and lovely around your neck. It was the years you had shared together dripping like liquid from the tips of your ear lobes and it was his long shimmering fingertips clasped around your wrist; holding on tight and promising to never let you go.

The video call was ringing and after a second of darkness the call was connected. You were rewarded with the view of his face; the top of his, already styled, light pink hair and dark eyes lined with the barest of eye makeup, applied by an expert’s hand, and his eyes focused on the view of you in front of him.

His eyes were moving and you knew from the way you held the phone and the image of yourself from the corner of your own screen, exactly what he would see. It would be the image of you, completely naked, except for the earrings, the necklace and the occasional spark of light from around your wrist.

Baekhyun’s eyes widened marginally, only enough to tell you that this was a surprise and you could hear the small puff of air exhaled through his parted lips as his eyes took in the sight of you.

He then closed his eyes and ran a hand with slender fingers over the length of his face, settling that hand over his mouth and his eyes pulled open again much too slowly. He hadn’t yet said a damn thing about what he thought about the diamonds.

Didn’t he think they complimented your skin tone perfectly? Didn’t the way that big stone pulled the delicate chain downward make your neck look pretty?

Did the sparkle of diamonds around your wrist make him want to hold your hand perhaps?

“Do you like them?” He finally spoke when he had removed his hand from over his lips and his voice was soft and low. Once the question was out he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and he bit down. His eyes darted up to touch yours once before they drifted down again and you wondered if he was looking at the diamonds anymore or…

“I love them,” you whispered and lifted a hand to show off the way sparkles caught the light.

Your declaration pulled his eyes back into yours and pulled his lips wide as he flashed the smallest smile of satisfaction. This look on his face was somewhat hard to read. Of course he was quite pleased with himself, but there was something else inside of his eyes as his smile slowly fell and evened out again and his lips parted and a tiny puff of air escaped through his mouth.

“You look so, so beautiful in them,” he inhaled through those parted lips and narrowed his eyes, looking almost intoxicated as he seemed to loosen his focus, “I knew you would, when I saw them...I just— I couldn’t help myself, baby.”

The excuse was the first bit of a clue he had given you of the incredible cost. As you had suspected when you first saw them, they had to cost a lot.

He could not help himself, he said. Their beauty was simply too great to resist when he thought of spoiling you in such a way with this incredible gift. The idea that this man loved you so much, he was powerless against such a temptation...perhaps it was you who was intoxicated.

“Were they very expensive, Baek?” The sound of your voice was soft and heavily affected now and you played with the necklace with your fingertips.

A sound betrayed him. A throaty whine, cut off quickly when he snapped his lips shut and he closed his eyes. He inhaled through his nose before you saw the up and down movement as he nodded his head. Yes. Yes they were.

“Do you always try on jewelry this way?” It came out almost as a complaint and you felt your lips pull into a smile. You enjoyed the thought that you could still have such a powerful effect on him.

“I want to buy you more,” you heard him say under a breath, his words trailing through the effort of their escape, “if this is how—”

“You did say you didn’t want to see the dress yet.” You lifted your shoulders with a little shrug as if you had merely been complying with his own request from earlier and not playing any dirty tricks involving expensive diamonds and gold and nipples and your navel and collar bones and the invitingly suggestive way you now leaned back onto your bed. The same bed that exactly four weeks prior he had pressed your back into as he pushed inside of you.

He had yet to return to you since then and you could feel the longing beginning to turn into desperation.

So that’s what the urge was. It was to be felt and touched and kissed and thoroughly had by your husband.

The same one who was staring now, cheeks flushed, so much more than the makeup he wore. He was positively pink, to match his hair and his lips.

“Do you miss me as much as I miss you?” You asked with the desperation sitting heavy on your tongue. You were certain he could hear it. You would do anything, you’d spend a million dollars just on yourself. You’d accept the luxury car he had been trying to sell you on. You’d even learn how to drive it. You’d do anything if it meant you could have just a little bit more of this man.

You laid a hand, the sparkly one, over your chest, between your bare breasts, where you could feel the steady thump of your heart.  Something had changed on the other side of the screen and you lost Baekhyun's eyes for a split second as he glanced at something behind him. A noise perhaps. Did someone knock?

He returned to you promptly and leaned in too close to the screen for you to make anything of his face.

“Baby, this...this is already too much. How am I supposed to put on my suit if I can’t zip up my pants?”

When he leaned away from the phone enough for you to actually read his expression again you could clearly see the struggle written all over that pretty face. But, God, was he pretty. His hair was styled up, a rare hairstyle for him, and one that always made your knees weak.

There was an alarm ringing somewhere inside his room. You felt downright victorious when you shifted and let your knees fall open slightly, just enough to show off the full body wax you’d subjected yourself to as a part of all inclusive spa treatment paid for by the one and only EXO’s Byun Baekhyun and he covered his lips again with a hand that was much less steady than at the start of the call.

“Oh,” you heard him whisper. “Oh god, I’ve...I have made a terrible mistake.” He said softly to himself and he was looking down from the phone. He was looking behind his shoulder. He was looking down at his lap and then away from the screen again, in the other direction. “I should not have asked to see a damn thing. I should’ve left it the hell alone—why...why did I ask to see?”

He was looking all over, but he was not looking at you.

He was not appreciating the way the line of sparks around your wrist traveled slowly down your stomach, lower and deliberate in direction. The occasional glance of his eyes when he was too weak to resist touched upon your movement and you smiled to yourself.

He had worked so hard. He had spent so much. The least he could do was watch you enjoy them.

“It’s—it’s time for me to go—baby,” he huffed through gritted teeth, “I — do you… do you like them this much? I have to put my suit on and go.”

You nodded your head — mouth agape as your legs parted further and you slipped your hand lower, the tips of your fingers finding the smooth skin between your legs, parted directly in front of your phone now propped on a pillow. You were already so wet, you just needed him.

“F-Fuck—Wh—what the fuck— what are you...doing with your hand?”

He was cursing now. The sound of it fueled your desperation.

“Fuck.fuck.fuck— my manager is texting me. You— fuck— I’m so fucking hard, how dare you. ”

“What are you going to do about it, Baekhyun?” You hadn’t expected your question to come out sounding quite so challenging but with your fingers running lazy circles within your wetness you were already feeling entirely too reckless to control your tone.

“I’ll...there’s no time. I don’t have time. I have to go. He’s already outside knocking and texting me, baby, I have to...do some squats or fuck it, I’ll tuck it in my waistband. I’m usually dressed right but I guess I’m dressed up tonight.”

“Are you really going to go?” The realization that he seemed to be quickly moving around his dressing room and the grunting you heard didn’t sound so much like sexy grunts and more like genuine effort made you sit up and look closely at the screen of your phone. He had sent it down and you could see movement as hasty arms were pulled through crisp white sleeves and his slim fingers fastened buttons and stuffed his stray shirt tails into his slacks.

You saw the evidence. Baekhyun had a full-on, sex-ready erection sending a bulge of black underwear through the open zipper of his pants and your arrousal/irritation that he would deny you so easily was temporarily halted by your genuine curiosity now.

You watched as he grabbed it. Just wrapped his right hand right around and his face twisted into one of pain as he seemed to squeeze down quite hard.

“Baek—don‘t...hurt yourself,” he looked like he was choking the life out of it and your voice took on a tone of genuine concern. You had seen one sex related injury come into your practicals at the hospital just this past week. The last thing this man (you) needed was to pull or strain something and be unable to fuck you later. You hadn’t seen him for a whole month. You did not want to wait even longer because he’d gone and broke his dick just because you had teased him too much.

His face ticked toward the phone and with all the ire and annoyance of a truly sexually denied man his words clipped back at you, “I’ve owned it longer than you have, darling. I know what I’m doing.” You held back the eye roll. You could write novels of all the ways you’d seen people hurt themselves when they had been positive they knew what they were doing.

Seemingly satisfied with his self aggression, Baekhyun pulled the thing up and with his other hand began zipping up slacks and shifting and pulling fabric around the offending appendage.

When he was all done, you had to admit it was hardly even noticeable unless you were you and you knew exactly the shape, length, width, and girth well enough to make out the exact outline of that dick inside of those pants. Of course you would easily find what was yours.

“I can still see it,” you said with a smug smile and his focus shot back at you with an equally smug grin.

“And I can still see what’s mine. All decorated so sparkly and pretty just for me. I might decide to add a pearl necklace too. If you love wearing my diamonds this much, perhaps you’d enjoy walking around with my cum on your tits all night.”

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth and you gasped. You actually scandalized-church-nun gasped right out loud and the action betrayed you entirely against your will.

Perhaps more shocking than the words themselves was the sudden realization that your own arousal seemed to be the one betraying you.

The image he had put into your mind...it sounded so filthy, and so damn tempting. To be marked as his so obviously. This man was so desired by so many, yet there was only one for him.

Only you.

Could this possibly be why you took to the jewels so strongly?

Your response came out sounding more like a dare than a denial.

“You wouldn’t.”

He leveled his eyes and that frustrated look on his face shifted into one of sudden understanding. A single eyebrow bobbed above his eye.

“Ohh,” he whispered inside of a breath and the corners of his lips pulled into a smile, “oh, you do want that, don't you?”

You felt unable to formulate a response. You doubted the question was rhetorical, yet you felt too stunned and too affected to reply.

“You know, it makes me so very excited to give you pretty things. Expensive things. Things that will show off your beauty. Things that show everyone that you are mine.

I would give you anything you wanted, my love. Anything.”

“Any—thing...” your words eked out slowly and softly in response to his, but there was little meaning in them. What you did feel deep inside your chest was a stronger sensation that had began to take root. Perhaps it had already been there; when you looked at him, through their eyes, the fans...when you saw the things they said about him, the yearnings and the longing they all expressed in elaborate and vivid ways.

And the feeling that grew inside of you as you watched them and all of their desperate wanting that was, again and again, denied.

When the cameras turned off and when the concert ended and the curtains closed and the staff went home and the acting ceased, Byun Baekhyun would pick up his phone and he would call you.

You would be at home or at school or in the subway or having lunch and your phone would ring and you would get his tired sighs or the subtle smiles and the pet names and when the stars aligned and his time off would coincide with your time off, your door would open and you would get his face and his lips and his smell and his skin and they...they had no idea.

This part was for you only.

And that feeling would surge again, just as it did when you unwrapped some gift he gave you, or opened your student loan statements to find that he had, again, made the last payment for you because the due date was coming up and you were going to be late due to your work payment schedule not quite aligning with the due date of the loan payment.

That feeling, it wasn’t quite the same as pride. It wasn’t smugness, or boasting that was fueling this, but it was an intense satisfaction that you were the lucky one. The one fortunate enough to receive his love. Baekhyun always found a way to make you feel like the absolute most important human in his world and even sitting here on the phone with him wearing the expensive diamonds he gave you, you could feel the profound gratitude that your life and his life had intertwined at such an important time as it had. That you had been given the chance to be loved and to love such a brilliantly beautiful man.

It made you feel the kind of special that did not happen to many people.

Baekhyun was dressed now. He was straightening a tie in a mirror and giving another rough tug at his waistband and he stood again in front of his phone, bending at the waist to place his pretty face into the frame of your video call.

You had given up on touching yourself by now. What was the point when he wouldn’t watch you do it.

“I’ll see you in an hour. You won't be late will you?” His voice still sounded huskier than usual but he was making the shift into business mode.  You could tell in the way he straightened out his face, blinking his eyes wide before squeezing them tight and shaking his head a little bit to rid himself of whatever leftover effects of you might still remain there.

He was magical sometimes, the strength of character this man had inside of him was astounding.

After a few throat clears he opened his eyes. Baekhyun lightly kissed his fingertips and blew the tiny kiss toward you and responded with a little nose scrunch when you caught the kiss in the air in front of you quickly, before it could vanish, you laid it over your heart, where you liked to keep all of his long distance kisses.

The call went black and he was gone for now and you pushed yourself to your feet to finish getting ready for tonight.

[ part 2]

IGU Deleted scenes masterlist

[miximax-hell]

Happy Goku Day, everyone!!

I checked and, miraculously, I still have followers on this blog. In fact, I’ve gained some since the last time I posted, for some reason! I’m not going to question it, though. Just... bless. But, hey, long time no see! As usual!

This time, I’m going back to my roots. The first drawings I posted on this blog were meant to show my love towards original Raimon, and it’s never a bad time to remind you all that I still adore these kids. Especially now that my friend @dust-monsters-under-my-bed​ has reminded me of them. Go check her art, btw! She’s not very active on Tumblr, but you can find her art on Twitter right here: https://twitter.com/rachelmonart

Anyway, she’s watching Inazuma Eleven for the first time and she’s made me think again about how much love these kids deserve, BECAUSE THEY SURE GOT NONE FROM HINO. DAMN YOU, HINO. So, today, let’s talk about the one and only IE character whose feet are classified as mass destruction weapons, who decided to borrow power from someone who will make you all question me, my logic and my tastes: Yamhan (or, as he is known in the west, Tiencha), THE FUSION OF YAMCHA AND TENSHINHAN FROM DRAGON BALL.

Introducing ShoYamHan! More on him under the cut.

So, first of all, how have you all been? I suppose many of you, like myself, are being told to stay at home to fight this situation. I salute all of you who do your best to stay safe and not help spread anything. It’s a very necessary fight, even if it can be boring at times. Many of us have friends or relatives fighting on the frontline, though (unless you yourself are the doctor or nurse friend!), and we hopefully know that staying at home is a small price to pay.

As for me, I got a job in December and lost it last month, so... yeah. It’s not been great. Still, something I’ve been working hard on for a while should be released soon and that’s so exciting! MY NAME WILL FINALLY BE ON SOMETHING’S CREDITS AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR IT TO BE UP.

But, anyway, back to business!

Rachel suggested I talk about the reasons behind this particular miximax, and considering it makes for a perfect parallel with my first posts, where I talked about the reasons behind Max’s and Kageno’s miximaxes, I’m all up for it! But, this time, I will have to do something new: explain WHO THE HECK YAMHAN IS. So let’s start with a picture of this handsome devil.

As most of you hopefully know, this project is about miximaxing Inazuma characters with video game characters. No anime, movies or anything else. Only and exclusively video games. Dragon Ball has probably spawned all those things, but it started as a manga, so you’d be right to think it most definitely does not qualify for this project. And, indeed, Dragon Ball doesn't. What DOES qualify, however, are Dragon Ball characters exclusive, or first introduced, in a video game. And that’s exactly the case we’re dealing with here!

Growing up, I loved Dragon Ball games. Even before I watched the show properly, in fact! I would go to my friend’s house, who was a fan of the show, and we'd play the Dragon Ball Budokai games nonstop with absolutely zero regrets. Those were some great times. And once I came to know the source material, the game that blew my mind the most was Dragon Ball Budokai 2. Was it the best one? Not necessarily. Is it my favourite? Not by a long shot. Still, it was the most creative! Most games follow the story of DBZ, which, obviously, is always the same. But Budokai 2 wasn’t afraid to do new things. Its story mode resembled a tabletop game and it was more than happy to deviate from the source material in some really fun ways; most notably, with exclusive fusions.

Budokai 2 introduced us all to Yamhan, the fusion of Yamcha and Tenshinhan, two long forgotten characters in the series, as they (and especially poor Yamcha) didn’t do anything especially relevant past... well, past the original Dragon Ball. As a champion of the unloved, that blew my mind. There were other fun things in Budokai 2, but what fascinated me and stayed in my thoughts for years to come was Yamhan. It was just such a cool concept. Two underdogs who had fallen into obscurity fusing to create a much greater warrior!

Of course, Yamhan isn’t the only videogame exclusive characters in Dragon Ball. He isn’t the first, nor the last. Yamhan isn’t the strongest, nor the weakest. But I haven’t played FighterZ nor Fusions (yet), nor pretty much any game that wasn’t on PS2 or GBA. And even if I had, I doubt Android 21 or any of the HUNDREDS of combinations available in Fusions would captivate me and my imagination as much as Yamhan did back in the day. Yamhan was a fusion, which is something that has always fascinated me to begin with. I MEAN, THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS ABOUT FUSING CHARACTERS, SO I THINK IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS LMAO But he wasn’t just one among hundreds. He was this very specific, never-seen-before, cool as heck and usable fusion. Like, wow. That was wild for me. Sign me up, man.

But, you know, I try not to let that sway me too much. Of course, I wouldn’t likely pick a character I hate for a miximax, but, still, my preferences aren’t everything. And choosing Yamhan begs a question that I have already alluded to: if Yamhan isn’t the strongest game-exclusive DB character out there, then, why him? Well, the answer to that is related to the biggest problem posed by the sheer concept of miximaxing with a Dragon Ball character:

Power escalation.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Goku is, pretty much, the strongest character that has ever played the lead in any manga, and one of the strongest fictional characters ever, period. By the end of the Dragon Ball Super anime, he has EXCEEDED THE POWER OF MANY LITERAL GODS AND IS (or has been) A CANDIDATE TO BECOME ONE. You may prefer One Piece, or Naruto, or anything else, but few things reach the astronomical, reality-bending scope of Dragon Ball. Not to say DB is the best series--I’m just saying that it’s so out of control at this point (and I love it). But, of course, the stronger Goku is, the stronger the villains need to be, and Goku ends up becoming EVEN stronger than said villains. Rinse and repeat dozens of times until you can make an entire universe disappear by raising your hand.

Now, imagine applying that out-of-this-world power escalation to a context where the power balance isn’t so outrageous. For example, Inazuma Eleven.

Goku wriggling in his sleep is more powerful than Zeus, and an accidental sneeze would smash all of Ixal Fleet to smithereens. Do you see what this would do to the balance? It would ruin it completely, as anyone who miximaxed with Goku would be immediately a one-person army able to defeat ANY opponent--and if the opponent were to be EVEN GREATER than Goku, well, the rest simply wouldn’t stand a chance. Ever. Remember: the point of this project isn’t to create perfect and unbeatable players, and I’m not trying to prioritize anyone or make them noticeably stronger than anyone else just because I happen to like X more than Y. That completely ruins the tension and the fun (and my attempts to create justice in this unfair universe). The point is to come up with a balanced team full of players with strong points, but with flaws, too, that complement each other when they play together against stronger enemies.

So, if we go with Dragon Ball, and I love Dragon Ball WAY too much to not include it in this project in some way, we have to be careful and avoid overdoing it. Balance is key. And now that you know why I didn’t just choose the fusion between Beerus and Whis or something crazy like that, I’ll move on to explain what makes Yamhan a very interesting option. I SWEAR THERE ARE SOME ACTUAL REASONS.

First of all, the very concept. You know, Yamcha and Tenshinhan fused to created Yamhan, and now, Shourin is fusing with a fusion. That’s just... hecking cool. I won’t lie--my preferences towards Yamhan didn’t tip the scales towards making this happen, but my preferences towards FUSIONCEPTION totally did. XD But there’s more, thankfully.

From the very beginning, I knew I wanted a fighting game character to miximax with Shourin because it fits his theme best. I’m not big on fighting games, though, so it was quite tough. Especially because just any fighting game wouldn’t do it. Shourin is a martial artist. As I mentioned at the very beginning of this post, his feet are his weapons. His entire body is a weapon, really. If I were to suddenly miximax him with some character who wields a sword or an axe, for example, it would be a complete disservice to Shourin. Original Raimon members don’t have much going on for themselves, and I’m going to cut or ignore the ONE thing that makes one of them special? Not in a zillion years. Shourin needs to fight with his body. That, of course, cuts many characters already: pretty much the entire roster of Soul Calibur, many members of Mortal Kombat, many from games like Skullgirls (which I still want to try to represent here in the future, because @lumaga worked on it and it makes me happy just because of that), etc. For a very long time, I considered someone like Ryu, from Street Fighter, but then it hit me: I have never played Street Fighter and I don’t want to include him just because I know what a Hadouken is. It’d be... cheap. And fake. Thankfully, as I also mentioned earlier, I played LOTS of Budokai back in the day and I am an actual fan, so I don’t have to pretend to know what the heck I’m talking about. XD And, thankfully, most of the characters in DB games fight with their bare fists and legs, so they perfectly fit my needs. Yamhan is, of course, no exception.

Now comes my favourite reason to choose Yamhan and not, well, literally any other DB game-exclusive character. And that reason is style.

Remember that power escalation thing I mentioned earlier? Well, it’s epic, but it comes with a big disadvantage: power ends up becoming much more important than skill. Early Dragon Ball was very focused on fighting styles. There was an ongoing feud between the Turtle School and the Crane School, who taught different martial arts to fight in different ways, and there was a big plot involving which one was superior. It wasn’t just about who was strongest, but about who fought better. With time, that disappeared, though. Even though battles became flashier, aerial and more spectacular, they were much more indistinct. Sure, there were gimmicks like “heh, I have a tail and I will sometimes hit you with it,” or “I will try to hit your face with the palm of my hand instead of my fist for some unspecified reason,” but that isn’t... much. You just see very fast people avoiding equally as fast punches to the face. And Goku, the main character, only shows some style when he adopts a fighting pose BEFORE fighting. Once the punches start flying, it’s all a race to see who can hit the other the hardest in the gut to make them spit blood. Cool nonetheless, but still.

Ironically, though, it’s two of the least relevant characters who never really lost those styles that made them unique when they were first introduced to the series. And those are, of course, Yamcha and Tenshinhan.

Yamcha joins the Turtle School and learns techniques as classic as the Kamehameha, but he had his own style way before that, based on attacking and tearing enemies apart like a wolf would. This is best represented by his signature move, the Rougafuufuuken or Wolf Fang Fist. He never drops this style, but instead builds up on it through his training to make it even fiercer.

Tenshinhan has different things going for himself. First of all, he is a hybrid between a human being and a civilization known as the Three-Eyed People, which grants him powers such as growing extra arms from his back or dividing in 4. Not just moving so fast that it looks like there’s four of him, but ACTUALLY dividing into 4 separate bodies. In terms of skills, he was a Crane School student, but when he realised the wrong of his master’s doings, he decided to start training and developing on his own. Basically, a path that mirrors Yamcha’s, but both lead to unique fighting styles unlike anyone else’s in this universe. And, most importantly, none of them depend on appendixes that are always there, like the aforementioned tail, so they totally work for us here!

Shourin is a proper martial artist. He wouldn’t want to make himself crazy strong as much as he would like to refine his technique and learn new moves and tricks. Martial arts are about discipline, self-control, skill and protection. He would take a cool-ass combo based on a wolf’s moves over earth-shattering strength any day of the week, hence why the fact that these two have so many techniques to offer is so appealing.

Finally, and probably least, is the design idea that immediately came to my mind when I thought of a miximax between Shourin and Yamhan. Historically, I have had to work with characters like Fudou, who are usually mostly bald and they miximax with someone with hair, thus making for some very... difficult things to figure out. But the idea of miximaxing Shourin, who is mostly bald, with Yamhan, who is ALSO mostly bald, was just golden and too good to ignore. And the fact that Yamhan has three eyes GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO ADD A THIRD CROSS-SHAPED EYE ON SHOURIN’S FOREHEAD. IF A MIXIMAX BETWEEN BALD PEOPLE WAS GOLDEN, THIS IS OUTRIGHT PLATINUM.

Shourin would've probably looked a lot less like a joke if he had had hair covering his entire head or if I had at least given him proper eyes... but that would no longer be the Shourin I love. Not to mention that it’s very likely that Shourin willingly shaves his head to begin with (even if the ponytail ain’t doing him any favours--but that’s just Inazuma logic, so let’s not look too much into it), just like Tenshinhan or Krillin do, so he would probably be happier to keep that, uh, advantage. Relative advantage, but still.

As a side note, though, we can’t forget the balance. When Yamcha and Tenshinhan fuse, they undoubtedly become the strongest human being in the DB universe, overcoming the one who is usually strongest: Krillin. A fusion is always greater than its parts individually, and Yamcha and Tenshinhan aren’t so far away from Krillin to begin with, so that’s not even a question. Regardless, they still don’t have that overwhelming and surreal strength from other characters, so we still don’t get into absolutely OP territory. Yamhan is strong enough to provide Shourin with a power that can make a real difference without completely putting him above everyone else.

Sadly, Yamhan doesn’t really have a backstory, as he’s a game-exclusive character that, honestly, was probably only there for a laugh. That means there is no deep connection between them. We can, however, make obvious connections between Shourin, an aspiring martial artist whose dream, as stated in IE2, was to study at Manyuuji (Kogure’s school) for their focus on martial arts, and is now trying to become stronger to protect what he loves, and two skilled warriors who have been training nonstop under different masters and on their own for basically their entire lives to keep becoming stronger and more skilled in order to defend what’s precious to them and, simply, to be the best version of themselves they can be. Upon seeing such dedicated warriors and artists, Shourin would undoubtedly want to learn from them and, if necessary, borrow their strength too.

Or he might just fanboy and ask for their autographs, honestly. I sure as heck want Yamcha’s. And his baseball card.

[prorevenge]

Don't screw with the crew!

Back in the early 90s, I got a gig working as a front-of-house sound engineer on a major 10-day music and arts festival in London’s Docklands with some fifteen stages dotted all around the waterfront. All of the crew working the stages were either experienced theatre techs, and/or had loads of experience working major outside events, which is the reason we were hired. As an aside, this festival was to celebrate the culmination of a massive investment in the redevelopment of this area of East London, itself the former site of one of the largest dock complexes in the world.

I was tasked with running FOH sound on one of the largest stages. Normally, events like this are loads of fun to work but within two days it became apparent that the organisers had 1), no idea of how to run major outside events and 2), had not the faintest idea of how to book acts and schedule same. In particular, we also had to contend with some woman from Docklands' middle management team who had been given the job of "overseeing" our particular stage, a person who not only had rapidly proved to be totally ignorant of any aspect of managing outside events, but also someone for whom the word "entitled" had been invented.

Our stage was licensed to run events from midday until 10:00pm but we rarely had a full day’s-worth of events for punters to enjoy, due to the aforementioned incompetence with booking. Still, not our problem—we'll just work with what’s given us.

On the Thursday, we had scheduled an evening of old-time Victorian music hall which featured, as a special guest, a very famous film and TV actress. Her performance rider required a grand piano. For some unfathomable reason (and again due to the incompetence of the organisers), the piano—a full-size Yamaha concert grand—arrived from the hire company on the Tuesday. This was a remarkably stupid idea for any number of reasons: due to operational considerations, we had to store the piano in the backstage area where it spent two days suffering in the heat of the day despite our best efforts to shield it.

As any piano technician/tuner will tell you, this is An Extremely Bad Idea, especially with an instrument worth close to £100,000. Almost as bad was the fact that our area was little more than a roughly-graded building site: the ground was covered in hard-core rubble fragments around the size of hen’s eggs (very uncomfortable to walk around on, even with proper work boots), which also kicked up loads of dust and other detritus—not the sort of crap you want floating about gumming up the works of a very expensive concert grand!

Now let me properly set the scene: it’s mid-summer, very hot, and our venue is a large circus-style tent with around 800-seat capacity. The cast of the show, along with our august star, were due to turn up at around 1:00pm to conduct a production rehearsal so we could sort out sound and lighting cues for the show.

The main cast duly turn up on time, and we start sorting out their technical requirements (pretty simple and nothing that we’re not used to). At about 1:30pm, our star turns up sporting dark glasses and an immaculate couture. As anyone who’s worked in this industry knows, the initial interaction with a major A-list star vis-à-vis their technical requirements can go one of two ways: full-monty diva, or let’s go with what we have.

Her first demand was that the piano be dropped off the front of the stage so that she could maintain an eye-line whilst standing right downstage, both with her pianist and with the audience. The stage was about 4.5 feet above ground level and would have required at least eight burly lads to safely shift a full-size concert grand off the deck. Also not a good idea since it had been tuned that morning and moving it would have almost certainly caused the tuning to go out of whack.

I delicately pointed out that doing so would be in direct violation of both health and safety, and fire regulations—as per our written policy—as it would have put the piano in both the fire lane and close to one of the primary emergency exits from the venue. Thinking rapidly, I then suggested that we place the piano as far downstage as physically possible, and that she page herself three or four feet upstage so that she could still glance over and take cues from her MD whilst still “taking in” the audience.

The tension was palpable: after a few seconds consideration she replied, “No problem, I can work with that.” Phew!! No sooner than this crisis had been averted than the Docklands rep rocked up. I remind you, gentle reader, that this person had absolutely zero knowledge about how to run an outside event.

She had also been a major thorn in our side for the previous week, trying to micro-manage proceedings in the venue in order to big herself up in front of her bosses: we, of course, completely ignored her “suggestions” but in such a way as made her think she was in charge—trust me, she wasn’t! She had also been inexcusably rude to virtually every single member of the crew from Day One, and had over the days previous reduced several of them to tears. Production crews don’t take kindly to our own being treated in such a cavalier fashion, and while we’re generally fairly thick-skinned, there comes point where we want to get our own back. Believe me, after a week of constant abuse, we were coming up with creative ways of disposing of the body.

Although we didn’t realise I at the time, our saviour was at hand…but I digress…

Obviously star-struck, she announced in gushing tones that she would be taking personal charge of our star’s every need and that we were not to concern ourselves with that aspect: indeed, we were to “keep our place” as we were only the hired help. Our stage manager, who was at that time sweeping the stage, bridled at the suggestion and made as if to use his broom to beat the brains out of this woman. I had to step in front of him as unobtrusively as possible and stop him from burying the woman right there and then—“she ain’t worth it, mate.”

She then swanned off, leaving our star slack-jawed in amazement. She then turned to me and said, “Is that fucking woman for real?” I replied: “Darling, you have NO idea!”, at which point she laughed uproariously. I gave our star a brief summary of the previous few days' farrago and instantly, she became one of us and from then on we were all on first-name terms.

We then ran a full tech rehearsal from 3:00pm to 5:00pm, sorted out all our cues and then repaired to the beer tent with the cast for a spot of late lunch and a drink or two.

The show was scheduled to kick off at 7:30pm. At around 6:00pm, The Harridan reappeared to overlook the situation. She noticed that we had all the sides of the tent raised in order to get some air flowing through—remember it’s mid-summer and it’s currently low to mid 80s. She then demanded that all of the tent flaps be lowered because she wanted a more “theatre” atmosphere and the light spilling through the side walls would spoil the effect. Despite pointing out that dropping the tent sides would significantly raise the temperature in the venue, she demanded the sides be dropped, so despite our earnest advice to the contrary, we reluctantly complied.

At around 7:00pm, we saw eight 50-seat coaches arrive. To our amazement, out from the coaches came an entire flotilla of old-age pensioners, many on Zimmer frames, who proceeded to shuffle their way into the tent across the hard-core rubble underfoot. We discovered later that the organisers had forgotten to advertise the event anywhere (seriously??) and in desperation, had gone around to all the local Darby & Joan clubs a couple of days before handing out free tickets and laying on transport in order to have an audience.

So now we have 400-odd OAPs frantically fanning themselves with anything to hand as the temperature climbs ever higher. We start the show: everything’s going fine but the mercury in the thermometer I have strapped to the FOH rack is slowly going up and up: it’s so hot up at the sound desk that I’m down to my shorts!

By the end of Act 1, the temperature has gotten up to around 94°F and one could clearly see the old dears are in a bit of distress. Naturally, the organisers had neglected to provide water for the public, and judging by the horrified expressions of the two St John’s Ambulance first-aiders stationed either side of the stage, things were about to get a lot worse. I climbed off the tower, found the rigging crew and ordered the sides of the tent raised. No sooner had I done so than “our friend” standing nearby demanded that the sides stay down because "she was in charge" and "...her instructions were to be followed absolutely, no questions!"

It was at this juncture that diplomacy went completely out of the window. I informed her in no uncertain terms (and employing a fair amount of Anglo-Saxon vernacular) that it was in fact the crew who had the responsibility of ensuring the health and safety of all the people in the venue, not her, and that we have the legal authority to enact ANY procedure that we see fit at ANY time to ensure the safety and well-being of everyone present. I then informed her that I was now exercising my authority under The Health & Safety at Work Act 1974 to remediate the situation, and that if she made one single attempt to circumvent that authority, I would have her ejected from the venue without hesitation. She then got in my face and screamed, “I’M IN CHARGE!”. No strike one, no strike two, instant strike three!

I glanced over at two of our security crew who had been hovering in the background with huge shit-eating grins on their faces, who then stepped up either side of her. Defeated, but complaining like a banshee with a terminal case of haemorrhoids, she was escorted off the premises in short order.

By the time Act 2 kicked off, we’d gotten the temperature down to a more manageable low 70ºF, much to the appreciation of our audience, and the rest of the show went off without a hitch.

After the show, cast and crew—including our august star—repaired to the bar for a well-earned drink. Moments later, you-know-who appeared and in imperious tones informed us that our star was to be the guest of honour at a VIP reception for the various Docklands' bigwigs. With a tinge of regret for having our fun curtailed prematurely, we said our goodbyes to our star.

Now it gets interesting!

Not ten minutes later, she storms back into the beer tent with a face like absolute thunder. Taken somewhat aback by her reappearance, we enquired as to why she had returned.

“That fucking woman! She drags me off to this so-called ‘VIP party’: I get there and all that’s there are two fucking plates of curled-up ham sandwiches and two fucking boxes of cheap wine from Sainsburys! How the holy fuck did she get this job?

“I gave her a right bloody earful and came back here because I’d much rather drink with you guys!”

At which point she calls the barman over and orders a round for the entire crew. We spend the rest of the evening chatting away like old friends: she regaled us with stories of her life, and she was gracious enough to listen to some of ours. Despite us trying to buy her a drink, she refused point-blank and picked up the entire bar tab for the rest of the evening on the basis that “…you’ve had to put up with that fucking evil bitch all week: the least I can do get you folks a drink!”

All good things must come to an end and at the end of the evening, her chauffeur turns up to take her home. She embraces all of us as old friends: she hugs me, plants a big kiss on my lips and thanks me, whereupon I comment, “you have just fulfilled a boyhood dream!” Again, that uproarious laugh! She looks at me and says, “Don’t let that fucking bitch get you down! Leave it to me…”

I later discovered through the back-channels some weeks later that our bête-noir had been fired from her five-figure job for her monstrous screw-up, primarily because our star’s agent had ripped the organisers a new one in very short order; you do NOT fuck with someone of our star’s track record without there being consequences. So, although we were not directly responsible for The Harridan’s demise, we were gratified to have someone of our star’s calibre standing up for us.

Revenge is a dish best served cold!

Edit: corrected °C for °F.

(source) story by (/u/GhostOfSorabji)

[solarpunkvegan]

solarpunk vegan stim boards

Hey guys! So, I’ve just started doing research for creating my own stim boards where everything shown is sustainable. This means no plastic, nothing non-vegan, etc. I’ve sketched a few ideas, come up with some themes, and I’m looking into how to make these things in a sustainable way. Things like slime, floam, kinetic sand, water beads/orbeez, wax melts, and more. Some of these things might be impossible to do in a truly sustainable way, and if so, I won’t do them. If they’re not possible I’ll try to replicate some of them in a new way, so instead of slime or floam I’d put my hands in dirt/soil/sand/mud, instead of water beads, I’ll use glass balls in water, instead of melting wax I’ll film vegan butter melting. As an example, today I’ve researched some eco glitters and found one that uses zero plastic but also uses shellac and so I won’t use it. I’ve also learned that you can make glitter with salt and food coloring so I’m researching sustainable, natural food dyes.  Some examples of things I know I can (probably) do sustainably: time lapse of baked goods rising, cutting into pretty cakes, food in general, incense/candles burning, bath bombs, watercolors, paint w/ palette knives & painting in general, confetti made from using hole punches on leaves/flowers, dying fabric w/ natural dyes, crystals catching the sun, plants moving in the breeze, time lapse of plants growing/drying, moving water, latte art, wind chimes, bird watching, herbarium bottles, land art/earthworks, plant mandalas/danmalas w/ stop motion, calligraphy, making smoothies, bubble tea, public domain/stock footage of animals, close ups of brushing/styling hair, petting animals/close up of fur (sanctuary or pets), sustainable makeup being applied (maybe nail polish?), flowering teas, homemade soaps, sand castles, and more.  (All of these will be researched of course) Most of these things will be new to me and the plan would be to make an entire video out of each thing. For example, when I make a bathbomb from scratch following a tutorial I’ll film my attempt and results. Then footage from that video will be used in a future stim board. Each video will explain how something is and isn’t eco-friendly, so I’ll explore for example, how most bath bombs are made, what parts are good or bad and why and how to make your own that’s eco-friendly. The stim boards will have links to each thing used, so if a board contains a cake, a bathbomb, and an eyeshadow, I’ll link a video for each one, me making the cake, reviewing or making the eyeshadow, etc.  Unfortunately, some of these things will not be good my first (or 30th) try. I cannot for the life of me make latte art or calligraphy. But I can try! My failures will probably make for a funny blogpost but will not get a video or be in a board. I’m also new to gif making so I have a lot to learn. (My background is in video editing & photography). I would also like to make things like what you can see here in these amazing videos by Shanks FX: https://bit.ly/35F48Nm I’ve always wanted to do these regardless, and I think they fit into stim boards nicely.  My boards will include things that are sometimes called “living photos” which are essentially just looping gifs. I made a whole project surrounding these in college, the fun part is combining an actual still photo with moving video and blending them together. One example I’d love to do is the steam rising off a cup of a hot drink. The intent with these is to not have any obvious cuts, but seamless loops. I know a lot of these already exist, but I’m attempting to make 90% or more of these entirely on my own. Footage of animals or moving streams are something I can’t really film right now, or ever in some cases, but if I can do it myself I’d like to. As for themes, I’ll definitely take requests, but one theme I’m excited for is bees. I see a lot of bee stim boards which usually involved destroying beehives, they’re gorgeous but I would like to make some that celebrate bees without destroying their habitats & food. No honey will be used (though I could film a honey replacer like beefree dripping on one of those sticks you always see). I’d use public domain/stock footage of bees and beehives, and do other things that represent them, a cake, makeup, showcase the flowers that are good to plant for bees, etc. I’m open to themes around fictional characters, but I want to have some basic themes under my belt first like aquatic, forest, high tech solarpunk, cottagecore-like, art nouveau, tiny living, zero waste, etc. I’m also really interested in all things vintage so I might make one w/ a record player. At the risk of getting too ambitious, another idea I had was creating soundscapes for the boards, if the board is on tumblr it could include a music player and/or a link to a youtube video w/ the soundscape. The board itself could be its own youtube video that loops w/ the sound. Or if it’s on my blog it could have a music player w/ each board. I’ve taken some sound classes in college but I’m no expert, so this might be unrealistic. If you have any suggestions and/or critiques I’d love to hear them. All of this is subject to change as I’m just starting on research now. Actually making the content will take even longer as any ingredients I need might not be readily available right now and I’m going out as little as possible. Thanks! (:

[siennaposts]

PipeLine - Development

So, starting again after my first failed attempt. I wanted to keep the same idea where an object would have to be controlled by a person using platforms. I had somewhat of the physics mechanic figured out when I made my first attempt but there was a lot of finessing to do. I created a basic level ‘room’ using platforms, just temporarily. I then made a ball and a player platform and got the ball to bounce off every platform in the game.

When creating this game, I considered what Fullerton mentioned about prototypes in chapter 7, “Prototypes could include the graphics capabilities for the game, the AI systems, the physics, or any number of problems specific to your game.” I thought about how this could apply to my design. What did I want to demonstrate with my game, specifically in regards to mechanics and objectives. Not only did I want the player to be able to have fun whilst playing the game, but I wanted them to be able to recognise the potential in my design. My goal was to achieve this by creating an enjoyable game with objectives, threats and complexity. This was a lot to strive for, for the first prototype I had made, however this would accurately fit the mould of a well though out digital prototype.

I wanted the player platform to be able to move in any direction but also rotate to aim the ball into certain directions. I made it so that the arrows would move the platform itself and had A and D as rotate buttons. I also created W to be a spin option just as a fun option to play around with. It was tricky getting the ball to bounce off the platforms well as I using the physics add on, and when the ball would bounce off one of the platforms, the ball would go in the opposite direction (correct) but the platform would fly away (incorrect). I thought this was going to ruin my whole game as I don’t know anything about physics at all. I started playing around with the physics settings changing the density of some objects and ended up making the platforms having a crazy high density numbers and the ball having 0. This way the ball really struggled to move the platforms, however it was still possible. I was happy enough with that for the prototype anyways because I was running out of time at that point. Next was to look at the objectives. I didnt want it to be timed event as I personally don’t like being rushed whilst playing games, I want to just enjoy it and take my own time. So I decided to make the objective trying to collect coins. I made a few around this course, of which at this point I had made a unique level course for the ball and player platform to manoeuvre around. 

I also wanted there to be a threat, as the timer threat wouldnt be included. So I made a few spike around the course that would damage your lives. So how did I link it up and make it work? I created global variables, ‘lives’ and ‘rewards’, both empty. When the ball collided with the triangle, the spike would get deleted and the lives counter would +1. When lives counter would go up to 3, the game would be quit because the player lost. Every-time the ball would come into contact with the coin, the coin would be deleted and the ‘rewards’ would +1. When the variable reached 5, the scene would change. All of this took me some time to understand but once I worked it out I felt like a pro lol. I then had a solid foundation for my prototype so began working on the aesthetics. I created some background art, I made glowing platforms as the boundaries and player platform, I made the ball also glow, and downloaded some free sounds too for sound effects. These game sound effects really tied in the game well however I felt like I needed some ambient and immersive music for the background. I hit up my musician mate and he gave me the perfect song. 

I duplicated this main level and created a quick introduction with white text showing the basic instructions for the game, and created a middle scene between the introduction and main. 

Why did I choose to make this game the way it is? I wanted to create an outside of the box platformer game and reverse the typical platformer. I chose an ‘out of space’ art style as I felt like the whole floating platform and ball situation was like the whole zero gravity in space. I chose to make the objectives rather than a timed event as I wanted the gamer to be able to take their time and somewhat relax when playing. I did include a few small threats however so that the player has initiative to keep the ball in their control and not let it do its own thing. I made an introduction as I wanted the player to gain an understanding of the controls of the game, rather than just throwing them in and making them learn themselves.

Overall I am happy with how I have completed this prototype and I’m looking forward for the feedback.

Gdev Code:

Fullerton, Tracy. Game Design Workshop : A Playcentric Approach to Creating Innovative Games, Fourth Edition, CRC Press LLC, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/qut/detail.action?docID=5477698.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Colonialism

You back into things sometimes.

One of my many guilty pleasures is old school pulp, which I first encountered with the Doc Savage reprints in the 1960s, then old anthologies, then back issues at conventions, and now thanks to the Internet, an almost limitless supply.

And to be utterly frankly, a lot of the appeal lays in the campiness of the covers and interior art -- brass plated damsels fighting alien monsters, bare chested heroes combatting insidious hordes, etc., etc., and of course, etc.

Once past age 12, I never took these covers or the covers of modern pulps such as James Bond, Mike Hammer, or Modesty Blaise seriously; they were just good, campy fun.

While my main focus remained on the sci-fi pulps, I also kept an eye on crime and mystery pulps, war stories, and what are sometimes called “sweaties”, i.e., men’s adventure magazines.

Despite the differences in the titles and genres, certain themes seemed to pop up again and again.

Scantily clad ladies, typically in some form of distress, though on occasion dishing out as good if not better than they got.

Well, the pulps that drew my attention were the pups made for a primarily male audience (though even in the 1930s and 40s there were large numbers of female readers and writers in the sci-fi genre).  Small wonder I was drawn to certain types of eye candy; I had been culturally programmed that way.

That’s a topic well worthy of a post or two on its own, so I’m putting gender issues / the patriarchy / the male gaze aside for the moment.

What I’m more interested in focusing on is the second most popular characters to appear on the covers (and in the stories as well).

The Other.

The Other comes in all shapes / sizes / ethnicities.  Tall and short, scrawny and beefy, light or dark, you name it, they’ve got a flavor for you.

“Injuns” and aliens, Mongols and mafiosi, Africans and anarchists.

Whoever they were ”they ain’t us!”

Certain types of stories lend themselves easily to depicting the villainous Other.

Westerns, where irate natives can always be counted on to launch an attack.

War stories, where the hero (with or without an army to help him) battles countless numbers of enemies en masse.

Adventure stories, where the hero intrudes in some other culture and shows them the error of their ways.

Detective stories, where the Other might be a single sinister mastermind but still represents an existentialist threat.

And my beloved sci-fi stories?

Why, we fans told ourselves our stories were better than that!  We didn’t wallow in old world bigotry, demonizing blacks and browns and other non-whites because of their skins.

Oh, no:  We demonized green skinned aliens.

Now I know some of you are sputtering “But-but-but you wrote for GI Joe!”

Boy howdy, are you correct.

And boy howdy, did we ever exploit the Other with that show.

I never got a chance to do it, but I pitched -- and had Hasbro accept -- a story that would have been about the way I envisioned Cobra to have formed and been organized, and would focus on what motivated them.

They were pretty simplistic greedheads in the original series, but I felt the rank and file needed to be fighting for a purpose, something higher to spire to that mere dominance and wealth.

I never got to do “The Most Dangerous Man In The World” but I was trying to break out of the mold. 

For the most part, our stories fit right into the old trope of The Other.

Ours were mostly about the evil Other trying to do something nefarious against our innocent guys, but there’s an obverse narrative other stories follow, in which our guys go inflict themselves on The Other until our guys either come away with a treasure (rightfully belonging to The Other but, hey, they really don’t deserve it so we’re entitled to take it from them), or hammer The Other into submission so they will become good ersatz copies of us (only not so uppity as to demand equal rights or respect or protection under law).

These are all earmarks of a very Western (in the sense of Europe and America…with Australia and New Zealand thrown in) sin:  Colonialism.

Now, before going further let’s get out terms straight.

There’s all sorts of different forms of colonialism, and some of them can be totally benign -- say a small group of merchants and traders from one country travel to a foreign land and set up a community there where they deal honorably and fairly with the native population.

The transplanted merchants are a “colony” in the strictest sense of the term, but they coexist peacefully in a symbiotic relationship with the host culture and both sides benefit, neither at the expense of the other.

Oh, would that they could all be like that…

Another form of colonialism -- and one we Americans are overly familiar with even though there are all sorts of variants on this basic idea -- is the kind where one culture invades the territory of another and immediately begins operating in a deliberately disruptive nature to the native population.

They seek to enslave & exploit or, failing that, expel or eradicate the natives through any means possible.

It’s the story of Columbus and the conquistadors and the pilgrims and the frontiersmen and the pioneers and the forty-niners and the cowboys and the robber barons.

It’s the story where different groups are deliberately kept separate from one another by the power structure in place, for fear they will band together and usurp said power structure (unless, of course, they band together to kelp make one of ours their leader, and build a grand new empire just for him).

It’s the story where our guys never need make a serious attempt to understand the point of view of The Other, because they are just strawmen to mow down, sexy lamps to take home.

I think my taste in sci-fi and modern pulp writing in general started to change around the mid-1970s.

Being in the army quickly cleared me of a lot of preconceptions I had about what our military did and how they did it.

The easy-peasy moral conflicts of spy novels and international thrillers seem rather thin and phony compared to the real life complexities of national and global politics.

Long before John Wick I was decrying a type of story I referred to as “You killed my dog so you must die.”  Some bad guy (typically The Other) does a bad thing and so the good guy (one of ours -- yea!) must punish him.

Make him hurt.

Make him whimper

Make him crawl.

Make him suffer.

The real world ain’t like that.

Fu Machu falls to Ho Chi Minh.

As entertaining as the fantasy of humiliating and annihilating our enemies may be…we gotta come to terms with them, we gotta learn to live with them.

That’s why my favorite sci-fi stories now are less about conflict and more about comprehension.

It’s better to understand than to stand over.

. . .

The colonial style of storytelling as the dominant form of story telling is fairly recent, dating only from the end of the medieval period in Europe and the rise of the so-called age of exploration.

This is not to say colonial story telling didn’t exist before them -- look at what Caesar wrote, or check out Joshua and Judges in the Old Testament -- but prior to the colonial age it wasn’t the dominant form of storytelling.

Most ancient stories involve characters who, regardless of political or social standing, recognize one another as human beings.

And when gods or monsters appear, they are usually symbols of far greater / larger forces & fates, not beasts to be subdued or slain.

Medieval literature is filled with glorious combat and conflict, but again, it’s the conflict of equals and for motives and rationales that can easily be understood.

It was only when the European nations began deliberately invading and conquering / dominating foreign lands that colonialism became the dominant form of storytelling.

It had to:  How else could a culture justify its swinish behavior against fellow human beings?

Even to this day, much (if not most) popular fiction reflects the values of colonialism.

Heroes rarely change.

Cultures even less.

We’ve kept The Other at arms length with popular fiction and media, sometimes cleverly hiding it, sometimes cleverly justifying it, but we’ve had this underlying current for hundreds of years.

Ultimately, it hasn’t served us well.  

It traps us in simplistic good vs evil / us vs them narratives that fail to take into account the complex nature of human society and relationships.

It gives us pat answers instead of probing questions.

It is zero sum storytelling: The pie is only so big, there can’t be more, and if the hero doesn’t get it all, he loses.  (John D. MacDonald summed up this philosophy in the title of one of his books:  The Girl, The Gold Watch, And Everything.)

It’s possible to break out of that mind set -- The Venture Brothers animated series brilliant manages to combine old school pulp tropes with a very modern, very perceptive deconstruction of the form -- but as posted elsewhere, imitation is the sincerity form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness, so while I certainly applaud The Venture Brothers I don’t want to encourage others to follow in their footsteps.

Because they won’t.

They’ll pretend they will, but they’ll veer off course and back into the old Colonialism mindset.

We need to break out, break free.

Here in the U.S. it’s African-American History Month.

The African-American experience is far from the Colonialism that marks most white / Western / Christian storytelling (and by storytelling I include history and journalism as well as fiction; in fact, anything and everything that tells a narrative).

It’s a good time to open our eyes, to see the world around us not afresh, but for the first time.

Remove the blinders. 

I said sometimes you back into things.

Getting a clearer view of the world I’m in didn’t come from a straightforward examination.

It came from a counter-intuitive place, it found its way back to the beginning not by accepting what others said was the true narrative, but by following individual threads.

It came from Buck Rogers and the Beat Generation and Scrooge McDuck and the sexual revolution and Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance and the civil rights era and Dangerous Visions and the Jesus Movement and Catch-22 and the Merry Pranksters.

It came from old friends, some of whom inspired me, some of whom disappointed me, and yet the disappointments probably led to a deeper, more penetrating insight into the nature of the problem.

This Colonialism era must come to a close.

It can no longer sustain itself, not in the world we inhabit today.

It requires a new breed of storytellers -- writers and artists and poets and journalists who can offer 

It’s not a world that puts up barriers by race or gender, ethnicity or orientation, ability or age.

There’s ample opportunity for open minds.

All it asks of us is a new soul.

  © Buzz Dixon