HENRY NATION. WE CLAIM OUR VICTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Miyazaki's Retirement Declarations (chronologically)
Translated from last week's NHK documentary on the production of The Boy and The Heron (more under cut). I saw people posting a screencap of this and I just couldn't contain myself. THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON WAY LONGER THAN I IMAGINED LMFAO
This is from the NHK programme "Professional - Their Working Philosophy" (プロフェッショナル 仕事の流儀) a few days ago (16/12/2023). The episode investigates the production process of The Boy and the Huron, and how the late Takahata Isao influenced the movie.
(It was confirmed within the documentary that Mahito = Miyazaki, Great Uncle = Takahata Isao, The Heron = Suzuki Toshio, Kiriko = Yasuda Michiyo)
The documentary is currently available on the NHK Streaming Service (Location Limited). If you have your own ways of watching and you know Japanese, I would definitely recommend the episode as it gives a lot of much-needed context to The Boy and The Heron. Personally, I haven't found a way to watch it yet, so all I know about the documentary are hearsay I saw on Japanese twitter.
Original screencap:
Also, at the very end of the episode, Miyazaki was shown working on a Naucicaa piece without any explanation, which led to many people speculating whether he could be working on a sequel for Naucicaa of the Valley of the Wind.
What do yall think? Do you think he's going to finally retire or release yet another animated film in a few years? I would love to see Naucicaa 2 but I also feel like he really needs to... yknow, chillax a bit and stuff. He deserves a long ass vacation.
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had a dream i was in a grimdark magical girl yuri setting, so when i woke up i made it real (and bug themed)
bonus details under the cut:
So basically, a small town was secretly holding onto a box containing an evil god, that the local group of magical girls accidentally stumbled on and opened. The thing inside it wasted no time in starting to destroy the world, and for an unknown reason, one of the magical girls even joined forces with it. The rest of the girls managed to beat them, saving the world, but ended up dying from the curse it left on them soon after.
After dying, butterflies girl looped back in time before the box got opened, and decided to keep the box for herself, to make sure its evil influence (box thing yapping at you to let her out) wouldn't get to her beloved friends. Box thing constantly draws in her allies to the town to break her out & tries to convince butterflies girl to please let her out.
Also here's a really rough relationship chart for your interest:
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since all new 3d printing & photography is still in limbo, a throwback! this is the first doll i ever made. she is from a couple of years back, though a more precise grip on the timeline is lost to me.
i had a brief fascination with bjd head sculpts as a kid, and did a few frankenstein experiments on barbies, but was never really interested in dolls before. the hobby started in a flash when i happened to see a monster high custom video on youtube. i took one look at a cleaned abbey face, went "monster high face sculpts are like THAT?", and got my boots on to go to the nearest thrift store. did not find any monster high at that time, but bought a moxie girlz doll, and came home to make this.
the spider butt is insulation foam and clay, and the legs are worbla over a thick metal wire, which allows them to bend surprisingly well. also, the tattoos are patterns cut out of my childhood satin pajamas, which is an excellent example how a lot of my material storage may be Old As Balls, but eventually compelling things will have their use.
the arms are super charming when i look at them now; a relic from a time when i didn't just have a bin of spare doll parts to get new arms from. i thought about swapping them out now, but i think i'll keep her as she is, as documentation. the harness i do need to retie though, as i did not know shibari back then and it Could Be Much Better now that i do.
all told, i've made about 80 fashion doll customs. most of them have never been photographed, but i'll do some more throwback dollposting when me and/or my partner get time & motivation to take pictures.
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Consider:
Leo Valdez was not born. Instead, two pairs of hands form him from bronze and steel and gold. His hair is copper wires so thin they bounce like natural curls, and his eyes glimmer with silver flakes. The joints of his body are plated so delicately, so perfectly, the segments are near indiscernible, smoothly gliding over each other. Faint traces of fingerprints and flecks of impurity are deliberately left behind for their uniqueness, a form of impossible signature of his creators.
Most importantly, gilded bars curl around each other in his chest, protecting the red-red-red flame that pushes his eyes open everyday, that beats in tune with his thoughts, that heats his body to expand and grow.
A metal child is not so different from a human one, and yet is so far from it at the same time. He is curious, about the world, about himself, and he picks apart toys and TV remotes and his arms, spilling their secrets before his constantly shifting eyes. He does not cry from fatigue or thirst or hunger, but a bump, a dent, a scratch never fail to draw tears. He splashes in the rain and snow, carefully bundled in waterproof coats and jackets, and runs from baths like he's possessed, fire flickering in fear.
The first time he meets someone like him, an endeavour he had long thought hopeless, it is a malfunctioning dragon others call for the death of; he is too unpredictable, too dangerous, too broken. Leo looks him in ever-shifting eyes glimmering with silver and sees himself if the cage in his chest ever bends, cracks, shatters, if the gears beneath his skin ever jam and stick and wear down irreversibly.
It is not golden flowers and godly aid that preserve him; just as he'd done for his twin-in-all-but-appearance, he creates a new body, with new fingerprints and impurities mapping his design. His hair is more bronze than copper, now, and his eyes more gold than brass. The plates of his joints scrape against each other faintly, and the gears of his bones grind together uncomfortably — he only had so much time, so much material to use, he could not polish every element of himself in the way he wished, but it holds together.
Most importantly, he reinforces the cage in his chest, coats it in layers upon layers of metal, to ensure his flame will not go out in the explosion, that Festus will be able to salvage it and lay it gently in the chest cavity carefully carved in his new body, bringing it to life.
He returns to Camp, movements more clunky and mechanical than should be, and his siblings finally pin down his segmented limbs, his shifting eyes, his clicking fidgeting. They are ecstatic, just as fascinated with him as they had been with Festus, and he lets them. He lets them take him apart, piece by piece, clean out the sand of Ogygia from his organs, polish and oil his gears until they glide against each other, press new fingerprints, new signatures of belonging, against his skin.
Most importantly, they craft him a secure, intricate cage, with golden flames licking up the bars, with delicate chains shielding it from the elements, and his flame settles inside it, flickering happily, finally truly, truly comfortable in the cage of his body.
Leo Valdez may not have been born, but he was crafted with the most loving hands imaginable, and is that not so much better, for a son of the Craftsman?
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