#one damned visual kei error

[whiskey-bumblebee]

when I kissed the teacher 💋

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3338

A/N: fits into the touch tank ‘verse! All characters are consenting adults (and not to spoil it, but Hotch isn’t really a professor so it’s especially okay <3), Smut! Office sex. MDNI 

Also I feel like I didn’t describe the sex position super well, so here’s a visual (link image is N S F W!, it’s drawn so it’s not pure porn but. It’s sexual) 

Divider courtesy of @animatedglittergraphics-n-more​

There’s a rush of excitement in your veins as you smooth your hands over your outfit, walking down the hallway to the onsite lecture theatre at Quantico. Dr. Hotchner is guest lecturing today, and you’ll be damned if he doesn’t notice you.

The bottom hem of your skirt sits well above your knees. You’re wearing your favourite blouse, holding some books in your arms, which are folded across your chest. Your tote holds a handful of pens and a notebook. The lipstick on your lips is your favourite shade. A diamond tennis bracelet adorns one of your wrists. In short, you feel like a million dollars, and you look like a billion.

You can tell that you’re late by the fact that the hallway leading up to the door is completely empty. When you walk in, and take a seat in the back row, your suspicion is confirmed. Professor Hotchner doesn’t look up at you, caught up in the concept he’s explaining. You take a minute to set up your notebook and take the cap off your pen. It’s one of the ones with a feathery doodad on top, and you can’t stifle a smile when you watch it bobbing in the air above the page as you write the date. 

“So, based on those traits, we were able to determine that the unknown subject was disorganized, driven by passion, and prone to making mistakes. Each of those assumptions was correct, but which aspect of the wider profile was an error? Someone who isn’t familiar with the case, please.”

A tall young adult with blonde hair raised his hand, and Professor Hotchner called on him.

“The assumption that they must have been part of a wider criminal network?” He offered.

“Yes,” Professor Hotchner replied. “Can you tell me why that was a significant error we made?”

“Well, there wasn’t much evidence for that part of the profile, aside from the fact that there were a lot of crime scenes for a single individual.”

“And what is the lesson there? Someone else, please.”

Someone you couldn’t quite make out in the front row raised their hand, and the professor nodded in their direction.

“Don’t assume the worst?”

“Well,” Hotchner paused. “Sometimes it’s helpful to assume the worst, because it forces you to confront a minimal loss scenario, rather than a completely effective solution. Has anyone ever heard the expression ‘when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras’?”

There was some scattered nodding throughout the room.

“Right. So in the field, statistics matter. For instance, the vast majority of arsonists are young males. Knowing that information can help you narrow down the suspect pool quickly, which is key when response time is important.”

He clicked over to the next slide, and you grimaced, seeing the gutted remains of what had once been a lecture hall. 

“However,” Professor Hotchner said, taking a dramatic pause as the students considered the image. “It’s important that you don’t make a habit of ruling out zebras, because every now and again, you’ll see an unsub who doesn’t fit the stereotypical profile for their crime, method, location...”

Something pink caught his eye, and he glanced up at the back row, where he saw you, dutifully taking notes with a completely ridiculous pen. You looked up when you realized that the room had fallen silent, making eye contact with him. You gave him a dreamy wave, resting your chin on your hand. 

He looked away quickly. “As I was saying...”

The rest of the lecture continued fairly successfully. At one point, the professor was stumped by a question from a student, who had asked how a profiler was supposed to know the difference between a horse and a zebra when the hoofbeats are all you have to go on. He’d paced the room for a minute or so, considering his response.

“I would say that it takes practice. The main takeaway is that you shouldn’t jump straight to zebra, but you shouldn’t rule it out either, until you have a strong reason to do so.” He looked at the student who’d asked the question, a small smile causing his lips to turn upward. “But I wouldn’t know. I’m not a biologist.”

Scattered laughter broke out in the auditorium, and he pulled back the sleeve of his suit jacket to check the time. 

“Alright, I’m sure you all have places to be, but if there’s one piece of advice I would give you all, it’s that there are no perfect answers, which, honestly, makes lecturing on this topic a little difficult. You’ll make mistakes, no profile is ever flawless. But, most of all, remember that the profile doesn’t need to be perfect to work. A lot of the time, research, police work, autopsies, all come together, and it’s the details from those, combined with the profile, that enables us to limit harm.”

He cleared his throat and glanced up at you again, pressing his lips together tightly before looking somewhere else in the room.

“Thank you everybody, have a good weekend. I have a few minutes for questions-”

The end of his sentence was overtaken by the sound of students chatting, packing their bags, and clearing the aisles. You stayed put, watching a line form between his lectern and up the stairs, almost stretching to the back of the lecture hall.

You sighed lightly, waiting for the line to abate before you joined it. The other students were lucky that the professor was being so generous with his time. It had been half an hour, and the last three students were still waiting patiently for their turns. Most of the interactions had just been handshakes, futile attempts at networking. Even with the best intentions, he’d never remember their names, and besides, it would be unprofessional to give any of them a leg up. The BAU was a selective group, and for good reason. Very few of the students who had an interest in profiling would actually be good candidates for the unit.

At long last, the professor was finishing up with the last student. You made eye contact with Hotchner, shooting him a small smile before pushing the tip of your pointer finger between your lips, under the guise of soothing a papercut. You made sure to drag your finger out of your mouth torturously slowly, emphasizing the way your lips parted. He’d know exactly what you were getting at.

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes from yours. “I’m very sorry Patrick, but I really need to get back to work. Besides, I think you’ll be able to find most of the answers on the FBI website, if the hostage negotiation stream is something you’re interested in.”

Patrick stuttered, nodding and quickly leaving the room. Professor Hotchner had perhaps been a little curt, but you could tell he was tiring of the schmoozing from the look he shot you, eyebrows raised. 

He said your last name affectionately. “Would you mind if we take this to my office? I think another class is scheduled in this room in a few minutes.”

“Of course,” You said, gesturing for him to go up the stairs before you.

“No, after you,” He insisted. You crossed your arms.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I have a rule not to let men walk behind me.”

Your comment clearly flustered him, and he cleared his throat, a blush coming over his cheeks. He confined his eyeline tightly to the ground.

A few minutes later, you were seated in his office, the professor in his leather armchair and you sitting on the edge of the desk. 

“Sorry there are no other seats,” He apologized, still struggling to make eye contact with you.

“It’s no problem,” You said sweetly, letting your legs swing. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He finally looked up at you, his eyelashes framing his dark eyes beautifully. 

“I was wondering if you could help me revise the notes from today? I missed the first few minutes and I hate leaving them incomplete,” You explained sheepishly.

You leaned all the way back on his desk, letting your back rest flat against it as you reached to the floor for your notebook. You heard him take a sharp exhale at the way he was suddenly in the right place to look directly up your skirt. He pressed his lips together tightly, looking away as you popped back up, spine upright again.

Opening the book to today’s page, you held the book open with one hand, propping it up on your lap, pointing to the notes you’d made. Sure enough, he walked you through each of the notes you’d taken, telling you where you’d missed a key point. As you did so, he pulled his chair in closer to the desk, one of his hands coming to your thigh, where he rested it casually. If you put the book down, he would have been face to face with your barely-covered pelvis, given how much your skirt was riding up.

You played with your hair for a moment, nodding as he explained the principle of minimal loss. In a breathy voice, you asked, “And that’s where the trickle, flow, gush strategy comes into play?”

He noticed your emphasis on those three words, and swallowed. “Well, yes. Sometimes the minimal loss principle is used outside of hostage situations, but trickle, flow, gush is only ever used in hostage scenarios.”

Undoing the top few buttons on your blouse, you leaned forward, emphasizing your breasts. “That’s so... interesting.”

His hand, the one on your thigh, started to move incrementally towards your hip, taking the skirt with it as he went. You set the notebook aside, finally, and waited for his reaction. 

“Professor?”

“Yes?”

“Would you care for a practical experiment in profiling?”

He sighed and leaned back in his armchair, drinking in the sight of you on his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, blouse no longer modestly buttoned.

“We tend to make a rule of not profiling profilers,” He explained, but in all honesty, you were watching his hands slip from the arms of the chair to his lap, where he folded them over his crotch.

“One sentence, just tell me if I’m telling the truth,” You begged, spreading your legs slightly. He couldn’t help the way his jaw slackened as he realized what you were revealing. This whole time, his whole lecture... you had nothing underneath that tiny, tiny skirt.

Suddenly, he was standing over you, disrupting the height difference that had left you, for once, looking down at him. He placed the tip of his index finger on the beginning of the inside of your thigh, just by your knee. 

“Go ahead,” He breathed, close enough that you could feel it on your neck. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss there, trailing down your neck at an excruciating pace. Once you were moaning softly, he started tracing his finger up the inside of your thigh. You had the distinct feeling that once his finger and mouth crossed paths, you might burst into flames. Such light, delicate touches that they were almost ticklish.

You grabbed his tie tightly in your fist, pulling it so he had no choice but to face you.

“I want you to fuck me, more than I want anything else in the world.”

From the immediate reddening of his face, you could tell he knew you meant every letter of what you’d said. It must have been almost intimidating to know that you were being completely earnest, almost frightening to be wanted so badly.

“So, Professor...” You sighed, before pulling him in by the tie and licking a stripe up his stubbled cheek, “True or false?“

“True,” He said, his baritone cutting right through you. It was his straightforward, factual tone. There was no room for argument or misinterpretation.

You let go of his tie and laid back on the desk, leaving your legs dangling over the edge, your hips at the perfect height, resting securely on the desk. 

You heard the sound of a zipper being undone, and looked up to see him draping his blazer over the back of his chair. He was standing between your legs, taking you in like a painting at a gallery, cocking his head from side to side.

“You’re ethereal,” He said plainly. 

“Fuck me then,” You replied.

It was bold, but you knew that after the lecture, and the way you’d been teasing each other in the office, you’d be able to take him. You were soaked, leaving your core dripping, feeling hypersensitive to the slight coldness of the room. 

He pumped his hand up and down his cock, and on any other day, you’d be happy to watch him pleasuring himself: the pure masculinity of his huge hands fisting his length... But today, you needed it.

“Please,” You whimpered. 

“Just putting on a condom,” He murmured quietly. In the hush that came over the room as you admired each other, you heard the wrapper landing in the plastic-lined bin under his desk. 

He gave your hip a squeeze, and you nodded. He nodded back, and nudged your legs wider apart. There was already a delicious stretch in your inner thighs from how you had to open your hips to create space for his strong frame. Once he was satisfied with your position, he started to ease into you, guided with one of his hands.

Your breathing immediately became shallower, and you felt yourself clench tightly around the very very tip of him. He moved his hand away and guided your legs into the air, letting your ankles rest against the front of his shoulders. He gripped your thighs for leverage.

He pushed in further, and you moaned loudly. You both knew the office floor would be empty, so neither of you made any attempts to stay quiet. 

“You’re so big,” You said, grinding your hips towards his and whining softly at how it pushed his length even further into you. He gave a short thrust, and it knocked the wind out of you. 

He moaned your name softly and whispered, “I don’t think I can keep up the act. What do you need, baby?”

“Please just fuck me, don’t worry about taking it slow,” You breathed. “Please, just give it to me hard.”

He huffed a short laugh, breaking character temporarily to cup your cheek affectionately. 

“I love you,” He said tenderly, his mouth setting into a firm line as he leaned into the second part of his sentence, “But I’m going to fuck you like I want to break you.”

 And with that, he pressed the rest of the way inside, his mouth dropping into an ‘O’. His sigh was almost pornographic, and he looked up at the ceiling. You weren’t sure if he was praying or just trying to become accustomed to the feeling.

“You’re so tight,” He hissed. “Gonna fuck you open.”

True to his word, he set a brutal pace; slow but deep, slamming his hips into yours, pulling out halfway, slamming in again. It left your brain in a tailspin, with stars behind your eyes. He’d switch it up by pulling almost all the way out, leaving you begging and writhing, grinding your hips towards his, and then he’d push back in slowly, watching your reaction to every inch, your brows pinched, eyes screwing shut.

“Touch your breasts,” He said. “Wish I could, but I’m a little,” He breathed, fucking into you hard. “Preoccupied.”

With each thrust, shit was tumbling from the desk. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, the crashes to the floor only a small part of the soundtrack of his thrusts and your shared sounds. When his groans gave way to something more akin to whines, you knew he was getting close. The desk was scooting across the floor with the force of it all. 

“Can you finish like this?”

You knew it was a question without judgement, so you weren’t ashamed to shake your head. 

He stroked one of your legs affectionately. “I’m going to drop this one so I have some room to work,” He said under his breath. 

You nodded, and he gently eased your leg down, making sure it was slow enough that you wouldn’t cramp or stretch too far in this strange position. With one of your legs in the air, and the other wrapped around his hip, he lowered his free hand to your labia. He pressed his cock almost all of the way into you, and traced his thumb around your stretched opening, making you aware of how much of him you were taking.

“So deep,” He groaned softly. “Feel how well you take me?”

He brought his thumb around to the top of your slit, tracing it in wide circles, gathering some of your wetness and using it to lubricate your clit as he made his circles narrower and faster.

“Like that?” He breathed.

“Up and down,” You whined breathily. “I’m so close, Aaron.”

He moved his thumb up and down, flicking your clit under his thumb. Your reaction was immediate, your legs shaking around him, held in place by his steadying hand on your upright leg.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron,” You chanted, eyes rolling back. 

He moaned, the ragged sound getting caught in his throat. You heard your name echoed back to you in his deep baritone, and the sound, and his continued attention to your clit, sent you deeper into your orgasm. Whether this was still the first, or the second, you were unsure. Your legs shook against him, and he pressed kisses to your calf as he spilled himself into the condom, muffling the sound into your skin. You were starting to come down just as he came, so you watched as his face crumpled, almost as if he was about to cry. He panted heavily and opened his eyes, looking directly at you.

It was cliche, but you really felt that he was staring straight into your soul. His face broke out into a wide grin, and he eased out of you quickly, before you became too sensitive. With the utmost care, he helped you bring your other leg back down, rubbing your thigh gently to discourage any aches from setting in. His warm hands felt wonderful on your skin, and you moaned softly. Once your body felt like it was back on the right planet again, you grinned and he smiled right back at you, leaning down to press kisses all over your face. 

“I love you,” He murmured. 

You hummed affirmatively, running your hands over his back, still clothed in his button up and tie. “I love you too.”

He disappeared from your eyeline for a second, and when he helped you to your feet, you saw that he had laid out his suit jacket and pants on the floor of the office. 

“It’s not a bed, but...” He blushed slightly, hand coming to the back of his neck. You kissed his cheek and lay down as he took off the condom and pulled on his briefs. He loosened his tie and lay down beside you. The ground was undeniably hard, but for now, the warmth of his clothing beneath you was enough. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you so you were snug against his chest. Happy, you nuzzled into him, feeling his comforting natural scent fill your nose. 

“If I doze off, you have to wake me up,” You craned your neck so you could look at his face. He gave you an affectionate squeeze, but he was already almost lost to the sandman. He hummed softly, his breath evening out. 

You snuggled into him. You’d both wake up soon enough, since he was right, this wasn’t much of a bed, but for now, you couldn’t imagine doing anything other than resting your head back down on his chest and letting yourself be held, but more importantly than that, completely and utterly loved. 

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner/reader #hotch/reader #hotch x reader #my writing #hotch smut

[kvicka]

#visual kei #morrigan #harajuku #punk #one damned visual kei error #kvicka #fashion

[sardonicallys]

𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 | 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲

mobile masterlist | web masterlist

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Hyunjin + Jisung + Female!Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Street Racing AU, Love Triangle, Angst

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Illegal Activity (street racing, importing cars and modifications, actively avoiding authorities, ellicit drug use, underage drinking), Violence (car wrecks, physical altercations and battery), Cursing, Terminal Illness

𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: The beauty of weighing a whole more than the sum of its part is that everything always looks perfect from far away, but when the details finally manifest, the margin for error escalates exponentially. If thrill was a sport, Jisung would be the poster child; there isn't anything he wouldn't do to taste the acrid essence of adrenaline and his own blood. But not everyone admired his desire to take every block like a trip, especially not Hyunjin. It takes nothing short of a car wreck, a police raid, and a lot of coincidental magic to mend a bad impression — but it doesn't last.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1,040

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: Recently had a burst of inspiration from multiple facets (namely, God's Menu visuals, Initial D rewatches, and some wonderful authors here on Tumblr) to attempt a street racing AU for Hyunjin and Jisung. I'm super excited to get this series going!

Please message me if you’d like to be included in the taglist.

He's fifteen when he first gets a slice of what it really means to have full control.

What that even entails, he's not sure, as he's been a calculated implantation who was molded by the hands of others, carefully crafted to have strings inserted in the crevices of his joints, along the planes of his bones, and deep within the grooves and valleys within the chamber of his skull. There is nothing of him that belongs solely to himself, so when he tasted the power of petrol through direct injection, it made all the difference because it was all for him. It was all he ever wanted, and he was sure that the high he chased was all he ever needed.

"Just start it, it won't bite," Adam jeered, jamming his elbow into his friend's ribs before receiving an image of disgust, eyes satellite revolving behind his wired glasses.

"I don't have my license yet, you know that."

"...Oh yeah, late birthday. Right," sighing, he leaned a hip into his new — or as new as a used car could get — CP1 in defeat.

"Don't be a pussy Peter, you don't need a license just to start the damn car," this time, it was Ismail's mocking tone that filled his ears, "The police aren't gonna ride up just cause you started a car."

And he knew that. But something acrid developed in the back of his throat the moment his eyes caught glimpse of his own reflection in the window tint, there was an unspoken and ominous looming apprehension that settled in the acid of his stomach, and it didn't feel right. It especially didn't feel right when Adam snatched the back of his head with his palm, deftly shoving him into the driver's seat as Ismail threw the passenger door open, their delighted howls of amusement loading the perimeter of the tiny coupe. Having gripped the steering wheel for balance, Peter attempted to settle as a clairvoyant pitched click simmered from his hands. Flinching, he released the circumference as the two boys looked at one another, matching cheshire grins before directing them at their timid friend.

"...Did you lock the steering wheel?" Adam dropped the passenger seat as he climbed into the back, elbows slung on Peter and Ismail's chair shoulders, hands hung into the valley above the console while Ismail wound his seatbelt in.

"Was that the noise?"

"Hell yeah it was."

"...So?" Peter deadpanned, rolling his eyes as Adam reached over and buckled him into the driver seat.

"Really gotta start the car now so you can unlock it."

"What?"

"Yeah, you heard him, start the car," Ismail chided as Adam tossed the keys into Peter's lap, interested gazes boring holes into his forehead.

"You both are fucking with me, unlock the steering wheel on your own," sulking, he unclipped his belt while reaching for the door's handle. Ismail gripped the crook of his elbow before sighing, "Come on, Peter, it's not that deep just start the car."

"If it's not that deep, why do you guys want me to start the car so bad?"

The two had sheepishly muddled expressions, each different but radiating a similar emotion. Adam was the first to shrug, attempting to compose himself, "...You know, cause friends do everything together, and all that shit."

"It's fun, really, and once you get your license you're going to do it anyways so we thought it'd be fun to like...Teach you?"

"To be honest Peter, sometimes you're a fucking know-it-all and for once, we knew something you didn't so we wanted to rub it in a little. But we really do wanna get you to drive with us, you know," despite the insult, Adam looked the most sincere he had been, the purest expression of honesty Peter had ever seen. It almost made him shiver he was so repulsed, but, it also gave light to the trio's friendship that he hadn't necessarily understood before. Left to simmer in his thoughts, he reached into his lap without another word and shoved the key into the ignition before pulling and rotating his wrist forward, the engine purring to life.

"Happy?"

The volume of cacophony only increased as a final smile developed on Peter's mouth, all three satisfied. But what he had not noticed the moment the engine woke as he had been refraining from breathing, it somehow took the swelling and containment from his lungs, stole it away and replaced it with something addictive.

He's fifteen when he feels like he's losing everything.

There isn't anything in particular that Hyunjin wanted out of life, no desires outside of maybe getting a PlayStation 4 for his birthday and to pass math because he was tired of sitting in the hallway on his knees every week, hands hung in the air as punishment for having the lowest scores in his class — thankfully not in the school because he couldn't imagine what that punishment was like. In his heart, he knew he studied. Whatever he actually retained? That was a different story.

This was the beginning and end of it all, and he didn't think he was especially good or bad, whatever that implied. But the day he came home, the door to his parents' restaurant out front locked with a shoddy scrawled sign taped to the glass that read there was an emergency and they were closed for the next couple days, the house following their absence, he started to wonder that perhaps there was more to life than a PlayStation 4 and passing math. Despite being raised Catholic, baptized, and studying through Sunday school, he never really saw himself as religious. Most of the sermons felt more like mindless chants memorized through repetition than deliveries of profound messages but when his mother lie almost breathless, lips tainted blue as she clutched his hand as tightly as she could, whispering how much she loved him, Hyunjin suddenly wanted to believe in God.

"Don't tell anyone, especially not your mother," in his palm were the keys to the Tiburon in the garage, Hyunjin's father wrapping his hand around his son's, offering comfort through the touch but stern firmness that married with his words, "No one."

"...Okay."

"Be careful."

"Yes, dad."

#stray kids #stray kids scenario #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfics #stray kids angst #skz #skz scenario #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz fanfics #skz angst #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #stray kids han #stray kids jisung #han scenario #han scenarios #han imagines #han drabble #han drabbles #han angst #jisung scenario #han jisung #jisung scenarios #hwang hyunjin

[rhysismydaddy]

I have a prompt - modern au where Nesta has a secret hobby which her sister don't know about that is singing. She likes to sing loudly . Then one day cassian who is the mysterious neighbour heard her singing and he joins her from his room . ( I hope u understand what I am trying to say my english is bad) i love your writing . 💐💐💐💐💐💐The librarian fic is awesome😻😻😻

Nesta jogged around the corner to her building, panting heavily as she finished her run. It’d been a week since her sister’s wedding, yet she felt like she was still working off all the calories she’d consumed. 

Coming around the outside of her building, she jolted to a stop as she slammed into something. 

Or rather, someone. 

Nesta practically bounced backwards as she hit his chest, a solid wall of muscle and strength. 

Yanking out her earbuds, she reared back to give the intruder a verbal smack down on invading someone’s space like that. 

And paused.

Hot damn. 

He was the most attractive man Nesta had ever seen. 

Golden eyes creased with a mixture of concern and amusement met hers. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she nodded. “You should watch where you’re going.”

His dark eyebrows lifted, small smile pulling at his lips. “You ran into me, baby girl.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes. “Semantics.”

“I didn’t mind,” he assured her with a smirk. “But next time you throw yourself at me, you should really give me a little warning.”

She was definitely considering it as she re-examined the area she’d smacked herself into.  “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Nesta swiped open the fob to her apartment complex and made to move past him but was halted by him swinging the door open and walking in ahead of her. 

“Um, excuse me,” she called, grabbing his arm to stop him. 

He looked back, full lips pulling into a grin as he eyed her hand on him. “Already trying to jump on me again?”

She knew she wasn’t exactly a threatening person, so she gave him her best scowl. “Non-residents can’t just walk in here. Someone has to come check you in.”

“You already checked me out.”

I’m going to smack him. “Check you in. Wait outside.”

“You’re bossy,” he pointed out, crossing his thick arms and evading her point again.

Nesta just flattened a look at him, and he laughed. “I live here, babe.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “No, you don’t. I know everyone who does.” She began to get nervous. If he was a serial killer, she’d have no way of fighting him off. He was tall and muscled and could probably kill her before she-

“I’m serious. I’m subletting from the Baylors in 3B.” He pulled out a key fob identical to hers. 

“Since when?”

He started walking towards the stairs, leaving her forced to follow. She was in the middle of admiring his backside when he responded, “Since today. And stop staring at my ass.”

Unable to help it, Nesta laughed. And completely ignored his request as they walked up the stairs, both heading down the same hallway. 

“Who’s following who, now?” he asked, turning around and leaning a shoulder against 3B’s door. 

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I’m in 3A. We’re neighbors.”

His eyes went a bit molten as he looked her up and down. “That’s convenient.”

Oh, good gracious. “Good night.”

It was only 6 PM, but she didn’t care. If she didn’t get away from him, she was going to do something stupid. 

He was apparently having similar thoughts. “Good night, neighbor. Feel free to knock on my door if you get lonely over there.”

Nesta unlocked her door and laughed, ignoring the flutter in her stomach as she visualized what would happen if she did just that. 

Deciding to try and act like a normal female, she turned around, winked seductively, and closed the door between them. 

Almost two hours later, she couldn’t stop picturing the look on his face before she’d shut the door. Desire, mixed with a dash of sexual promise, had filled his gaze. She suddenly wished she hadn’t shut the door at all. 

Sweet sassy molassy, he was attractive. The kind of attractive where he probably got stopped on the street and asked to be on the cover of Men’s Health or something. 

And he was right, it’d be pretty convenient to-

No. 

Refrain yourself. 

You have to live next to him. 

If something happened between them, and it went poorly... not worth it. Even if he looked like sex on legs. 

She sighed, resigning herself to a life of celibacy, and stepped under the shower steam. After a long week, it was a blessed feeling to finally relax. 

Gradually unwinding, she hardly noticed as she began to sing. Nesta had never told anyone, but singing was her absolute favorite hobby. Even her sisters didn’t know. 

She’d been tempted to tell them over the years, but Nesta knew that as soon as they found out, she’d suddenly be signed up for every competition show on Earth. And she really, really hated to sing in front of people. 

Cutting her shower off, she wrapped a towel around her and went to scrounge up some dinner. Feeling much more upbeat, she switched to one of her favorite songs: Dangerous Woman. 

She wasn’t nearly as talented as Ariana Grande, but she absolutely loved the song. 

Nesta had just reached the crescendo of the song, belting out the lyrics, as she heard a rough, gravelly voice join in with hers. 

From across the shared wall with 3B. 

Laughter burst out of her as her brand new neighbor continued singing, practically screaming through the wall. Before she knew what was happening, she was yelling right back, going to the wall between their apartments and slapping it to the beat of the song. 

They sounded awful. 

Both of them were howling with laughter, screaming the lyrics, and pounding the wall. 

He’d taken to singing the part of the instruments, too, and it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. By the time the song ended, Nesta could hardly breathe.

Not five seconds later, a knock sounded on her door. 

She answered it, still laughing. 

Her neighbor smiled down at her, eyes alight with humor. “I would’ve joined sooner, but I had to google the lyrics.”

“Not your song, huh?” Nesta grinned. “You’re fucking awful, by the way.”

“You make up for it, though. You’re really talented, neighbor.”

Secret’s out. 

“I’m Nesta.” 

“Cassian.”

They shook hands, and he held it for a bit longer than necessary as he murmured, “You know, I think you have to sing me to sleep at night now.”

Fuck it.

Rolling her eyes and looking him up and down, she replied. “In your apartment, or mine?”

________________________________________________________________

Wrote this in literally five minutes, so I’m sorry if there’s a ton of errors. Thank you for the ask, nonnie <3 

[ioannemos]

29: I Think I Need A Doctor ‘Verse: Detroit: Become Human Prompt: Emergency room Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor Rating: PG-13/R Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, language Words: 700

------------

“It’s not your fault.”

Connor tastes human blood again. He shuts down the newest DNA scan. He knows whose blood it is. It’s finally drying. He had to blink it out of his eyes.

He blinked up at a small light. It took him the same amount of time to chart the blood spray across it and the wall it was mounted on as it did to process what the voices were shouting.

Cars shift out of the way, clearing a lane for him more efficiently now that their processors realize how much room he actually needs. No human could drive this fast safely. The car wouldn’t let him drive this fast either until he broke the limiter. Once he shuts off the engine, this car will never work again. He reminds himself not to shut it off at the emergency room doors. It will be difficult to move out of the way, and he can’t block the entrance.

“Connor.”

The front of his shirt clings to his chest. The cloth is thin, and android skin is liquid-resistant, so even a small amount of blood will wick through fabric quickly. The heat has gone out of it and his chest feels cold. Not cool, cold. Frozen. His fingers are locked around the steering wheel.

His internal gyroscope had to recalculate, sending out inquiries about orientation before he realized he was laying on the floor. Warnings began to cascade across his vision about muscle tears, microfractures, thirium loss, pump overclocking, a visual error, a processing error, an unexpected shut down. Muscle groups unlocked in sequence.

Two sets of lungs draw in air, then exhale it. One is fast, but steady, the pant of someone used to adrenaline and using it to his advantage whenever he can.

“I know you can hear me. You don’t have to reply.”

The other is…

There was a weight on his chest. Another blink cleared the red from his eyes. Light and dark moved above him. There was a pattern to it. Another blink and his scan restarted. High velocity blood spray, like from a gunshot wound. Voices meshed and tangled, phrases like “put pressure on it” and “oh my God” and “don’t move your hands” and “holy fuck” and “what just happened” and “call an ambulance” and “that’ll take too long, who has keys?”

It’s still there. Still breathing. The heart’s still beating.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s bad.

It came back in a stuttered information dump, pictures and sounds and movement. It filled him with horror, with fury, with a detached presence of mind. Hank had opened the light reset on his phone that they used on violent androids. Between the pattern of light, the refresh rate of the phone, and the way most androids processed vision, it worked like flashing lights for certain kinds of epilepsy, inducing a minor crash. He swept away the remains of the virus, which couldn’t restart without its trigger, and sat up.

He’d been able to yank his arm back before the virus pulled the trigger, but not before the gun was clear of Reed’s head.

“You said it was a virus. Someone else was controlling you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“We’re almost there.”

“Connor?”

“We’re almost there. They’re expecting us.”

“Listen.” There’s a sudden sharpness in Hank’s tone. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

He glances in the rearview mirror for an instant. His face and neck are spattered with red. There’s blood in his hair. “There were witnesses.”

“Don’t say fucking anything.”

There was brain matter in the blood.

“Witnesses saw me shoot him.”

“Listen to me, God damn it-”

There was blood everywhere. It was soaked into clothes, smeared on the floor, coating their hands.

“There’s no point. I’ll never be a cop again.”

“Then we’ll figure it out but don’t you fucking dare take this on. That wasn’t you and don’t you fucking dare say it was. Don’t say anything.”

“It was a virus,” he said, and Hank’s expression barely changed. “I’ll drive him.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Connor-”

His hands both contain heating elements capable of reaching temperatures over 1,400°F for incinerating biological samples to prevent cross-contamination. Right now, he doubts it’ll ever feel sufficient.

#whumptober2020 #no. 29 #emergency room #detroit become human #fanfic #blood #gore #violence #language #hank anderson #my favorite #connor #you pierce my soul #video games #mine #abbie writes a thing #whumptober #writing is hard #my muse is a monster

[elizabethan-memes]

Can you elaborate on Erusamus and the reformation please, or at least point me toward sources? Politics make more sense than philosophy to me, so I see the reformation through the lense of Henry VIII, or the Duke of Prussia who dissolved the teutonic order, or France siding with the protestants during the 30 Years War because Protestants > Hapsburgs

So sorry to take so long!

If you needed this answer for academic reasons, given that summer term is pretty much done I’m probably too late to help, but I hate to leave an ask unanswered.

HELLA LONG ESSAY BENEATH THE CUT SORRY I WROTE SELF-INDULGENTLY WITHOUT EDITING SO THERE IS WAY MORE EXPLANATION THAN YOU PROBABLY NEED

Certainly religion has been politicised, you need look no further than all the medieval kings having squabbles with the pope. Medieval kings were not as devastated by the prospect of excommunication as you’d expect they’d be in a super-devout world, it was kinda more of a nuisance (like, idk, the pope blocking you on tumblr)  than the “I’m damned forever! NOOOOOOO!” thing you’d expect. I’m not saying excommunication wasn’t a big deal, but certainly for Elizabeth I she was less bothered than the pope excommunicating her than the fact that he absolved her Catholic subjects of allegiance to her and promised paradise to her assassin (essentially declaring open season on her).

I think, however, in our secular world we forget that religion was important for its own sake. Historians since Gibbon have kind of looked down on religion as its own force, seeing it as more a catalyst for economic change (Weber) or a tool of the powerful. If all history is the history of class struggle, then religion becomes a weapon in class warfare rather than its own force with its own momentum. For example, historians have puzzled over conversion narratives, and why Protestantism became popular among artisans in particular. Protestantism can’t compete with Catholicism in terms of aesthetics or community rituals, it’s a much more interior kind of spirituality, and it involves complex theological ideas like predestination that can sound rather drastic, so why did certain people find it appealing?

(although OTOH transubstantiation is a more complex theological concept than the Protestant idea of “the bread and wine is just bread and wine, it’s a commemoration of the Last Supper not a re-enactment, it aint that deep fam”).

I’ve just finished an old but interesting article by Terrence M. Reynolds in Concordia Theological Quarterly vol. 41 no. 4 pp.18-35 “Was Erasmus responsible for Luther?” Erasmus in his lifetime was accused of being a closet Protestant, or “laying the egg that Luther hatched”. Erasmus replied to this by saying he might have laid the egg, but Luther hatched a different bird entirely. Erasmus did look rather proto Protestant because he was very interested in reforming the Church. He wanted more people to read the Bible, he had a rather idyllic dream of “ploughmen singing psalms as they ploughed their fields”. He criticised indulgences, the commercialisation of relics and pilgrimages and the fact that the Papacy was a political faction getting involved in wars. He was worried that the rituals of Catholicism meant that people were more mechanical in their religion than spiritual: they were memorising the words, doing the actions, paying the Church, blindly believing anything a poorly educated priest regurgitated to them. They were confessing their sins, doing their penances like chores and then going right back to their sins. They were connecting with the visuals, but not understanding and spiritually connecting with the spirit of Jesus’ message and his ideals of peace and love and charity and connecting with God. Erasmus translated the NT but being a Renaissance humanist, he went ad fontes (‘to the source’) and used Greek manuscripts, printing the Greek side by side with the Latin so that readers could compare and see the translation choices he made. His NT had a lot of self-admitted errors in it, but it was very popular with Prots as well as Caths. Caths like Thomas More were cool with him doing it, but it was also admired by Prots like Thomases and Cromwell and Cranmer and Tyndale himself. When coming across Greek words like presbyteros, Erasmus actually chose to leave it as a Greek word with its own meaning than use a Latin word that didn’t *quite* fit the meaning of the original.

However, he did disagree with Protestants on fundamental issues, especially the question of free will. For Luther, the essence was sole fide: salvation through faith alone. He took this from Paul’s letter to the Romans, where it says that through faith alone are we justified. Ie, humans are so fallen (because of the whole Eve, apple, original sin debacle) and so flawed and tainted by sin, and God is so perfect, that we ourselves will never be good enough. All the good works in the world will never reach God’s level of perfection and therefore we all deserve Hell, but we won’t go to hell because God and Jesus will save us from the Hell we so rightly deserve, by grace and by having faith in Jesus’ sacrifice, who will alone redeem us.  The opposite end of the free will/sola fide spectrum is something called Pelagianism, named after the guy who believed it, Pelagius, who lived centuries and centuries before the Ref, it’s the belief that humans can earn their salvation by themselves, by good works. Both Caths and Prots considered Pelagius a heretic. Caths like Erasmus believed in a half-way house: God reaches out his hand to save you through Jesus’ example and sacrifice, giving you grace, and you receive his grace, which makes you want to be a good person and do good works (good works being things like confession of sins, penances, the eucharist, charity, fasting, pilgrimages) and then doing the good works means you get more grace and you are finally saved, or at least you will go to purgatory after death AND THEN be saved and go to heaven, rather than going straight to Hell, which is what happens if you reject Jesus and do no good works and never repent your sins. If you don’t receive his grace and do good works, you won’t make the grade for ultimate salvation.

(This is why it’s important to look at the Ref as a theological as well as a political movement because if you only look at the political debates, Erasmus looks more Protestant than he actually was.)

There are several debates happening in the Reformation: the role of the priest (which is easily politicised) free will vs predestination, transubstantiation or no transubstantiation (is or isn’t the bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Jesus by God acting through the priest serving communion) and the role of scripture. A key doctrine of Protestantism is sola scriptura. Basically: if it’s in the Bible, it’s the rules. If it’s not in the Bible, it’s not in the rules. No pope in the bible? No pope! No rosaries in the bible? No using rosaries! (prayer beads)

However, both Caths and Prots considered scripture v.v. important. Still, given that the Bible contains internal contradictions (being a collection of different books written in different languages at different times by different people) there was a hierarchy of authority when it came to scripture. As a general rule of thumb, both put the New T above the Old T in terms of authority. (This is partly why Jews and Muslims have customs like circumcision and no-eating-pig-derived-meats that Christians don’t have, even though the order of ‘birth’ as it were goes Judaism-Christianity-Islam. All 3 Abrahammic faiths use the OT, but only Christians use the NT.)

1.       The words of Jesus. Jesus said you gotta do it, you gotta do it. Jesus said monogamy, you gotta do monogamy. Jesus said no divorce, you gotta do no divorcing (annulment =/= divorce). Jesus said no moneylending with interest (usury), you gotta do no moneylending with interest (which is partly why European Jews did a lot of the banking. Unfortunately, disputes over money+religious hatred is a volatile combination, resulting in accusations of conspiracy and sedition, leading to hate-fuelled violence and oppression.) The trouble with the words of Jesus is that you can debate or retranslate what Jesus meant, especially  easily as Jesus often spoke in parables and with metaphors. When Jesus said “this is my body…this is my blood” at the Last Supper, is that or is that not support for transubstantiation? When Jesus called Peter the rock on which he would build the church, was that or was that not support for the apostolic succession that means Popes are the successor to St Peter, with Peter being first Pope? When the gospel writers said Jesus ‘did more things and said more things than are contained in this book’, does that or does that not invalidate the idea of sola scriptura?

2.       The other New Testament writers, especially St. Paul and the Relevation of St John the Divine. (Divine meaning like seer, divination, not a god or divinity). These are particularly relevant when it comes to discussing the role of priests and priesthood, only-male ordination, and whether women can preach and teach religion.

3.       The Old Testament, especially Genesis.

4.       The apocryphal or deuterocanonical works. These books are considered holy, but there’s question marks about their validity, so they’re not as authoritative as the testaments. I include this because the deuterocanonical book 2 Maccabees was used as scriptural justification for the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, but 2 Maccabees is the closest scipture really gets to mentioning any kind of purgatory. Protestants did not consider 2 Maccabees to be strong enough evidence to validate purgatory.

5.       The Church Fathers, eg. Origen, Augustine of Hippo. Arguably their authority often comes above apocryphal scripture. It’s from the Church Fathers that the concept of the Trinity (one god in 3 equal persons, God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit) is developed because it’s not actually spelled out explicitly in the NT. Early modern Catholics and Protestants both adhered to the Trinity and considered Arianism’s interpretation of the NT (no trinity, God the Father is superior to Jesus as God the Son) to be heresy. Church Fathers were important to both Catholics and Protestants: Catholics because Catholics did not see scripture as the sole source of religious truth, so additions made by holy people are okay so long as they don’t *contradict* scripture, and so long as they are stamped with the church council seal of approval, Protestants because they believed that the recent medieval theologians and the papacy had corrupted and altered the original purity of Christianity. If they could show that Church Fathers from late antiquity like Augustine agreed with them, that therefore proved their point about Christianity being corrupted from its holy early days.

Eamon Duffy’s book Stripping of the Altars is useful because it questions the assumptions that the Reformation and Break with Rome was inevitable, or that the Roman Catholic Church was a corrupt relic of the past that had to be swept aside for Progress, or that most people even wanted the Ref in England to happen. Good history essays need to discuss different historians’ opinions and Duffy can be relied upon to have a different opinion than Protestant historians. Diarmaid MacCulloch’s works are good at explaining theological concepts, he is a big authority on church history and he’s won a whole bunch of prizes. He was actually ordained a deacon in the Church of England in the 1980s but stopped being a minister because he was angry with the institution for not tolerating the fact he had a boyfriend. The ODNB is a good source to access through your university if you want to read a quick biography on a particular theologian or philosopher, but it only covers British individuals. Except Erasmus, who has a page on ODNB despite being not British because he’s just that awesome and because his influence on English scholarship and culture was colossal. Peter Marshall also v good, esp on conversion. Euan Cameron wrote a mahoosive book called the European Reformation.“More versus Tyndale: a study of controversial technique” by Rainer Pineas is good for the key differences in translation of essential concepts between catholic and protestant thinkers. The Sixteenth Century Journal is a good source of essays as well.

[sparda3g]

Kimetsu no Yaiba Chapter 192 Review

It’s not the final battle without the protagonist. Tanjiro has risen to resume the battle against Muzan. Although his condition is questionable with that tumor-esque on his face, his determination remains all fired up. We are very close to the climax; unsure how this will all end. If that’s not enough to feel tensed, this chapter will certainly push you even higher.

I stated in the last chapter review that I was saddened that we didn’t get to see any more of Tanjiro’s time (spiritually speaking) with Yorichi. I hoped for a flashback to cover a flashback. My wish was immediately granted within the first pages. You could imagine how happy I was when reading the first panel. The best part, it’s not only designed to please us fans for more scenes with Yorichi, but also inform a crucial detail that can be a game changer.

Upon Tanjiro’s journey as Sumiyoshi, he witnessed Yorichi’s Sword Forms, thanks to the request of his wife, Suyako. I only know her for a very short time and already I like her uplifting spirit to uplift those who are broken. I also like Tanjiro’s note about his understandings changed when examining forms performed by another. His analysis made him realized the accuracy of his movement differs greatly. Yorichi’s Sun Breathing Forms were so delightful, Sumiyoshi forgot to breathe. Talk about breathtaking, and it certainly was. It’s sad however, because Yorichi was a simple person, no matter how gifted he was.

The saddest part is when Yorichi gave his ear ornaments to Sumiyoshi. This of course explain the lineage passing down to the current generation. With Yorichi passing them down, it’s his sign of never to return; essentially, this was their first and last interaction. It pains me to see this end on a sad note. Tanjiro hoped he will see him happy on his way out. God bless Sumiyoshi to be the man to end with happiness.

He didn’t want to end with sorrow. He yelled at Yorichi to understand his life is not without value. He wanted him to know his family will forever be grateful for saving them. Nothing will change that, no matter how many people bashed him. The most important of all, he will pass the ornaments and Sun Breathing to future generations. Truly amazing how he remembers the movements precisely. This officially became the Kamado’s legacy inheriting the Hinokami Kagura. The best part, Yorichi thanked them with a smile. Beautiful.

I love this closure. It goes without saying, Kamado’s ancestors were kind-hearted lovable people. Remember, this is all Sumiyoshi’s words. Tanjiro couldn’t interfere, but he didn’t need to; he and Sumiyoshi both shared a similar gratitude. It speaks great volume on both fronts. It’s even better how the presentation presented Sumiyoshi’s voice with Tanjiro’s appearance; perfectly intertwined. All in all, this was great.

Tanjiro thanked Yorichi for everything. His action definitely didn’t resort to nothingness. Without him, Kamado’s lineage would have ended much earlier and Tamayo’s action wouldn’t happen if she wasn’t spared. It all comes down to now; better late than now. This segue to another crucial point: the path to the 13th Form.

Upon experiencing Yorichi’s performance, he witnessed all 12 Forms, reciting all the names. The only missing form is the 13th; or was it? It was at this point that I thought it’s a shame that he didn’t see it for some reason; however, Tanjiro enlightened us on his discovery. He noticed the Dance and Flame Dance have similar names. Also, he recalled his father’s words about breathing properly lead to dancing forever. This reflected the Hinokami Kagura; danced until dawn. I can’t believe I missed that detail.

According to Tanjiro, the 13th Form is born from the completed cycle of all 12 Forms. That sounds pretty plausible. It also sounds like a combo chain in order to unlock it, like a fighting game hidden move. If this is all true, then it’s such a risky and difficult task. The user has to keep the flow going, but how can they when the threat is right there, hence probably why no one bother trying. Not to mention, the Forms consume stamina; that’s a lot to waste. But what choice does he have?

The tension is already running high, but Tanjiro’s monologue increase it higher. Everyone is knocked out and/or badly injured; it’s all on him now. His thoughts isn’t filled with sheer confidence; it’s mixed with determination and concerns. He knows he’s not as gifted as Yorichi or as skilled as his father. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he will survive. He’s at disadvantage in many ways, but he will not fold. The goosebumps I felt throughout the panels when he’s readying for a do or die fight. This is how you create sheer suspense.

The action begins and it’s already looking to be the most defining point yet. The artwork draws out the intensity of the clash. The single page with the flame surrounding Tanjiro’s sword is mesmerizing. The visual has suddenly kick it up a notch or two. On top of the intense clash, Muzan sees a vision of Yorichi through Tanjiro. Now, it has gotten damn personal. Tanjiro takes the strike, but still on the battle. Fortunately, he has great sense to read the movement, so he can evade better. Another example of being more powerful isn’t the only way to win.

The part that got me jumping is Tanjiro’s Sun Breathing Dance. Not only it looks spectacular, but the fact he’s using the Forms would make ancestors teary, let alone the fans. It all comes down to one goal: unlocking the 13th Form. He’s going to perform all 12 right here, right now. This is hype yet horrifying. I know it’s the key to stall Muzan, but in his state, it’s suicidal, and I love him for that.

This was a great chapter with rewarding payoffs. I love everything with Yorichi and Sumiyoshi. It is amazing how these two characters, let alone Yorichi, can be so likeable, and they’re exclusive in a flashback. The theory on 13th Form was really interesting. The action was exhilarating with the artwork complementing its intensity. I think there’s an error in one flashback panel with Tanjiro’s Mark present on Sumiyoshi. The cliffhanger got me excited, though I prayed for his life. God speed, kid. Everyone depends on you.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #chapter 192 #review #spoilers

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations NOEL! You’ve been accepted as IAPETUS.

This was the hardest decision we’ve ever had to make. Both of the applications for Jack were so damn good and we went back and forth on it. But, the way Jack idealizes Alma in your expanded connection has what hooked us, Noel! The way you ended Jacks bio to everything written about Alma, to this “He’d expected a gun to his face; instead, he’d gotten a lifeline.” This, this line right here had us SOBBING. We can’t wait to see you bring Jack to life on the dash! 

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information: 

NAME/ALIAS: Noel :~)

PRONOUNS: They/them

AGE: 24

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: CDT / GMT-5

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Jack Mizuno

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cismale, he/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:  

I see Jack as someone with an identity whose boundaries are constantly in flux, and the consequences of that endless/unsure sense of self. Someone (largely) unrepressed, unrepentant, unashamed, whose depth comes from his own unknown limitations, and the exhilaration that comes with exploring that edge. What could he do, what will he do? He hardly knows himself, but rather than being a problem, it’s a challenge, a philosophical question. He shares his brain with so much all the time, and sometimes the space between himself and everything else is more a suggestion than a defined line. 

He’s like one of those kids raised in excessive, grotesque wealth, except with information instead of money; information, which is often power. Definitely someone who never learned to shut up, turn down the drink or the job or the daring glance. No one can be tapped into the Internet like that, an endless sea of screaming neon and screens and signs and meaning and nonsense and desire, and not be a little bit unhinged. He combats this with a straight-forward, analytical nature, a temperament capable of riding the crest of all that data without drowning. Most of the time. 

Ultimately, Jack is someone with immediate access to anything and everything he could ever want to know, and a personality just morally flexible enough that he wouldn’t for a moment think to feel ashamed using it against someone.

BIO: (cw: neglect, violence, addiction, drugs, suicidal ideation)

Jack’s power had started as a party trick.

It was the first time he’d been invited to a sleepover. The other boy’s parents probably felt bad for him, the kid with no mom and no friends and an always-absent father, but the specifics didn’t matter much. He’d been hungry for their attention, anyone’s attention, and when the opportunity was given to him he intended to leave an impression. Do you have a computer room? There’s something you should see. He’d rested one hand on the mouse, one on the keyboard, scowling-serious like the hackers he’d seen on TV. The posture was more for the visual than anything else; he wasn’t going to need to press a single key tonight. Give me a name. Someone you hate.

One brush of his thumb against a wire, and the screen flickered a hundred colors. Garbled words and images, resolving into a series of personal photos, emails meant for someone else’s eyes. A social security card. A private world cracked open for him, as easy as asking please.

It was the last time he’d let anyone watch him work. The other kids had looked at him in horror, his still hands, the blank look on his face. Blank as the static on a broken TV, or the waxy face of a corpse. Freak. Mutant. It didn’t bother him— other people’s opinions rarely bothered him— but it made the reveal less effective. Distracted from the point, which was: Look what I can do. And, more importantly: What can you give me for it?

Jack had been glad when they'd moved states not long after. Moving every few months was mostly an annoyance, but it did give him an unlimited supply of second chances at first impressions. By his teens, he’d perfected his routine. Cash for information. Blackmail, answers to tests, access to any secret. Any question answered, for the right price. Even if he had nothing to spend the money on but video games, candy, cigarettes and (eventually) drugs, whatever— it was the power that got to him, the real fun of the exchange. Before long his clientele had expanded from his fellow students to the local teachers. Then their friends. Then, a more dangerous kind of customer. More dangerous friends. If his father noticed his new schedule of late-night outings, he never mentioned it. Richard Mizuno had never been much of a parent, coming and going with no notice, sometimes for weeks on end. When they were sleeping in the same house, he didn’t seem to notice Jack’s movements around him at all.

Jack got caught when he was fifteen. A client looking for dirt on a cheating spouse recognized him, his dark hair, those blank eyes. Hey, aren’t you Mizuno’s kid? It was inevitable, running in circles adjacent to criminals, that he’d eventually run into someone who knew his own criminal father. Rich was a small-time con man and a big-time gambler. What money he made never lasted long in his pockets; it was rare that he made more than he lost, and outrunning his debts had been what kept them on the move through Jack’s childhood. That evening, his father called him into the kitchen and passed him a cigarette over the cheap plastic table where they’d never eaten a meal together. That evening, his father looked at him with interest for the first time in his life.

Once again his ability was a party trick, this time for his father’s benefit. Something to show off to strangers in the back rooms of clubs and anonymous private basements. Look what I found on you. Imagine what I could find on your enemies. Blackmail was a dirty business, but it paid better than the various scams his father had been working through the years. Pretty soon, they were making good money, more in a week than they’d previously seen in months. For the first time, they signed an actual lease on an apartment. He swapped out his Craigslist bed frame for one from Ikea. Soon, all Jack’s evenings were spent scowling in corners, the prop for his father’s grand reveal, and his mornings were spent sleeping through classes. He didn’t need to be present for the actual deals, but his dad liked leaving an impression, and silent boy genius hacker was a pretty memorable one.

That routine lasted nearly three years. The Mizunos made a name for themselves as the ones who could get dirt on anyone, anytime, and bore no strict alliances; it was more lucrative that way. Their reputation began to precede them. Even at a young age, Jack knew enough about the world— enough from watching his father, and the men who came after him— to know it could never end well. Inevitably, his dad made a gamble on the wrong person, and got a bullet in the head for his trouble. Jack took what was left of their money and ran as far as he could run, all the way to the opposite coast, into the familiar arms of an anonymous face and an unfamiliar town.

In another life, that would have been his lesson to take a sharp right turn and set down some more legitimate roots. As it was, he’d spent his years honing his abilities, learning how to control them and sell them to the highest bidder. The money was too easy, the satisfaction of a new impossible puzzle cracked— it was addictive, all-encompassing. Where most people only accessed a trickle of information at a time, their own personal corner of infinity, Jack bathed in it.  All the world’s secrets at his fingertips, if he did things right, if he kept at it. Every puzzle had its solution. He could have anything and everything in the world he could want, and at that moment all he wanted was more.

He was so cocky. Cocky, and empty, and often bored. Sometimes high. It was a dangerous combination. First, he got run out of New York with his life, just barely. He’d bet on the wrong person, someone who knew that all it took to get him to do something was telling him he couldn’t. Nothing more attractive than a locked door and a challenge. Nothing better than proving someone wrong. Next stop, Chicago, where he hadn’t fallen into old habits as much as his only habits. It started with some high-powered mutant at a house party, looking him up and down with a raised brow— This guy? Really?— and it was like he lost his fucking mind. People could call him any name in the books and he wouldn’t bat a pretty eyelash, but questioning his abilities set him off like a rabid dog, what little common sense he had disappearing behind a smirk. All the mutant had to do was cock his head and ask, Can you? And Jack had said, Try me.

Jack would show them. He would show everyone in the entire world if he had to. And that was how he’d found himself on the wrong side of the Blackburn Syndicate.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS: 

ALMA: When Jack looked up from his crouch on the floor of the Blackburn server room and saw Alma, pure rage in a five-foot-two frame and looking ready to snap his neck, he’d laughed. In the split second between seeing their face and recognizing it, his mind tried the odds of getting out of that room alive and came up with the equivalent of an error message. So this was it, his penultimate moment, the last bad decision in a history of bad decisions. He’d lived his life from one increasingly risky gamble to the next, always left unsatisfied and searching for the next big thing-- assuming he didn’t get his face kicked in first. Not a great way to live if longevity was a priority, but he’d been running long enough on hubris to ignore that part. Until now. Now, it seemed the ever-chaotic universe had found a small justice to be done, one small moving part of chaos to put back in its place. He was going to be powered down for good. All that was left was to let go, with the finality of an animal going limp in the mouth of its mother, submitting to the inevitability of the narrative he’d always seen coming. 

Jack wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. Disappointed? He should be. He’d gotten caught before he could deliver the product to his client. He’d failed the job. But he’d gotten into the Blackburn servers first, cracked open the deepest secrets of one of the most secretive gangs. The rest of the job was just… transportation. This was his biggest challenge to date, and he’d— somehow, incredibly— pulled it off. Which was how he’d found himself laughing in the face of the inevitable, expression lit only by the blinking red and blue lights of the monitor below him and his hands nested in a tangle of wires like the hair of a lover. 

He can’t imagine what she saw in him at that moment. A scruffy kid in old clothes living out of a hotel on the South Side, spending his days chain-smoking out the bathroom window while he waited for his phone to ring. Those days, he’d always had this feeling like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, worst of all when he was waiting for a job. Bouncing between all these intense, erratic impulses, always on the edge of shaving his head or robbing a bank or jumping in front of a car. He was a ball of tightly-would energy with no container, spinning and ricocheting and destroying everything it touched, and getting himself banged up in the process. An attack dog without a leash, biting its own tail into infinity. Jack was on his way to a dead end, full-speed, and changing paths wasn’t an option. Stopping felt like drowning; moving, outwitting every challenge, outrunning all consequences, at least it had a rush.

Until Alma Rosario looked at him and said, I’ve been looking for someone like you. He’d never been looked at like that before, like they were taking the whole measure of him, like they knew what he was and what he was meant to do. You’re with us now. Like he’d been theirs the whole time, and everything up until that moment was just practice for the real work of his life. He’d expected a gun to his face; instead, he’d gotten a lifeline. Someone who gave a fuck about him in a way no one ever had before. A cool hand on his shoulder, a direction to point his focus, and a leader who took his restlessness and alchemised it into blood-deep loyalty. The rest of the world could get fucked, but Alma Rosario had spared his life in more ways than one, and he’d follow them to the ends of the Earth.

EXTRA:

Jack speaks English, Japanese and Polish. The last he learned from his friend group in high school, who he had nothing in common with apart from a mutual interest in doing drugs and World of Warcraft. A fun side-effect of his ability is a natural aptitude towards languages, which could be cool if he ever cared enough to do something with it. In reality, he’d only learned Polish so he could talk shit as well as the rest of them during games. 

At one point in his childhood he’d gotten really good at card tricks as an outlet for his fidgeting. It didn’t stick, but he still has the muscle memory.

There is an irony to the fact he ended up in the Blackburn Syndicate, the most holier-than-thou of the gangs, considering he doesn’t give a fuck about mutant rights. He’s never cared about politics or paid much attention to life outside his circle, and the interiority of his ability has spared him from the abuse other mutants experience on the day-to-day.

The last romantic interest he expressed in a girl was Rei Ayanami from Neon Genesis Evangelion; to be fair, he was 12 at the time.

There was a period at the beginning of his work with the Blackburn Syndicate where he lived in Alma’s guesthouse, because he had nowhere to go, and had been kicked out of his hotel for not caring enough to pay their bills. While he didn’t spend much time with Alma personally, being literally taken in off the street solidified his trust in their promise that Blackburn takes care of its members.

Jack was born on August 6, 1990 (which makes him a Leo sun, Scorpio moon, Capricorn rising.) Yes, this is a year to the day the internet went public.

His mother left him with his father when he was five. He doesn’t remember anything about her, but if she was thoughtless enough to leave her child with a man like his dad, he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t think about her much anymore.

Jack has a secret obsession/fascination with the arcane and occult. Possibly because it’s one of the few topics that remains mysterious, no matter how much digging he does.

His home computer has a Sailor Moon-themed keyboard. It is wholly incongruous with the rest of his place, which has as much personality as a cheap motel room.

Jack reads everyone in Blackburn’s emails. Because he can. Occasionally their texts, too, if he really doesn’t like them, or distrusts their motivations. (He distrusts most people’s motivations.)

On that note, he considers it part of his job to keep some amount of dirt on everyone he knows, from bank account details to embarrassing archived Myspace profiles. The only one he affords their privacy is Alma.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/remusjlupin/jm/

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A

#Accepted #accepted: iapetus

[naruhearts]

It’s Never Too Late to Start All Over Again

Now that @profoundzine Vol. 1 has been shipped out and released, public restrictions are lifted! I can finally share my published meta piece from the zine (written before S14 ended/14x20 aired. Now preconceived notions of FREE WILL and what constitutes it are being challenged re: TFW + Destiel, but I’ll tackle that next time!! We’re coming FULL CIRCLE here!). 

Accompanying artwork: the lovely @thedogsled who also tirelessly worked with me in editing this meta <3

- - -

Darkness. The phone call.  The glimpse of trench coat. And then there was light.

Cas’ emotive resurrection in 13.05 surprised general audiences, although no one was as shaken as Dean Winchester. The complex journey of these two men is one for the history books. It’s a narrative tango knitting them together like two intrinsic gravitational forces that found their match.

Castiel has come a long way since he first raised the Righteous Man from perdition. His very touch upon Humanity - in the form of the iconic handprint adorning Dean’s left shoulder - had sparked his Fall, and from that point on did Castiel’s self-democracy proliferate in the following ten years. His already humanistic predisposition warred with his sense of duty as the Angel of the Lord, yet Dean remained his one fixture of reason, anchoring him to human nature.

But let’s hit pause first. Rewind the tape to 4.01: Lazarus Rising. The episode title itself conveys the circular metaphor of human life, where Lazarus, the dead man of Biblical antiquity, lives again. Life is made up of flux, not permanence. The natural order of change wholly applies to personal human growth.

Dean’s starting point traces back to May 2, 1983 - the night John Winchester sent Dean on his first mission: take care of Sammy. Their Lawrence house is engulfed by yellow flame, and Mary Winchester burns. Mary’s death created her son Dean’s 14-year bildungsroman rife with many personal obstacles.

Dean then gets older. Embodying John’s ways of the Hunter, he internalizes selflessness, isolation, and wary pessimism against an evil world. Detachment is key. There’s no room for error, intimacy, or vacations on the beach with umbrella drinks and his toes in the sand - the latter a canonically ideal future that Dean let himself envision in 13.18.

Such Hunter ways cost him.

Toxic codependency offsets Dean’s repressive upbringing with Sam as the prioritized source of his personal bonds. Toxic coping mechanisms and emotional misarticulation govern his behaviour. Emotional dysregulation cripples his decision-making.

Dean is alone.

Then, on September 18th, 2008, Castiel meets Dean Winchester for the first time.

It happens fast. Sparks literally fly between the two men, with Dean frozen to the spot in simultaneous surprise and fear. After scathing words of disbelief are thrown in Castiel’s direction, the angel then offers his charge a perception that his charred soul never disclosed to anyone else: Dean doesn’t think he deserves to be saved.

He has been saved. By Castiel. And this is the unexpectedly beautiful outcome of Dean’s first rebirth: Castiel himself becomes the catalytic vehicle for his emancipation. Self-change starts from within, but Castiel lays important groundwork for Dean’s self-change. In other words, while Dean offers him free will, Cas offers Dean a compelling path: freedom to love himself.

During Supernatural’s 4th season run, we enter the newly minted age of Christian mythology. In Lazarus Rising, Castiel turns out to be an enigma of a creature: stoic, exclusively duty-bound, and having and wanting very little to do with human socialization. He’s on Earth for one purpose, and one purpose only: as an Angel of the Lord, Castiel obediently spouts rhetoric about the commands of On High - God’s plan. “Dean Winchester is saved,” announces Castiel, and the iconic phrase, in retrospect, holds no meaningful connotations. It is devoid of personality, with pure utilitarianism painting Dean as the means to an end.

Due to God’s absence, the 4th and 5th seasons show Heaven’s angels creating an authoritarian hierarchy. Dean and Castiel, both seeking their absent fathers, finally seem to be treading common ground with each other. In 4.07 the concept of free will - Humanity’s core strength - is introduced into Castiel’s narrative through Dean himself, where the hammer becomes the consistent metaphor for both Castiel and Dean’s automatic birth into subservience.

CASTIEL: We have no choice.

DEAN: Of course you have a choice. I mean, come on, what? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you [...], just a couple of hammers?

Dean and Castiel also have their first intimate discussion. The audience observes that Castiel is opening himself up to Dean on the park bench, expressing his own vulnerability as he corrects Dean’s unfavourable impressions of him.

“I am not here to judge you, Dean,” Castiel says. “You misunderstand me [...] I am not like you think [...] I’m not a...hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts.”

x

Castiel gripped duty in his palm. He has been subservient for years. And yet, from the point of first contact with his charge in Lazarus Rising, Season 4 wraps Dean and Castiel’s character arcs together - combines them into an extensive parallel narrative with self-actualization as their endgame.

Dean Humanity Winchester and Castiel then engage in their own scheherazade, each personal chapter shifting indelibly from reluctant allies to tentative acquaintances to fervent friendship to...something else.

Something profound.

Thibaut and Kelly, two prominent sociologists who brought interdependence to the forefront of healthy human relationship behaviour, would be flabbergasted with the potency of it in Dean and Castiel’s increasingly complex relationship.

Interdependence - known as the melting pot of dependence, respect, fairness, reciprocity, commitment, attraction, and satisfaction - unfurls between Dean and Castiel over ten years as the product of their personal development. Through trial and error, they decide that interdependence is achievable.

Their relationship has value.

And we observe how much Dean and Castiel value their deep friendship (heavily romance-coded relationship) numerous times. The classic mixtape of 12.19 is an illuminating example speaking to Dean’s perception of his relationship with Castiel. Audiences realize that mixtape gifting - long regarded as a conventionally romantic gesture - occurs between them offscreen, silently yet significantly indicating their closeness, and Dean rebuffs Castiel’s attempt to return it.

CASTIEL: Sorry Dean. I just wanted to return this.

DEAN: It’s a gift. You keep those.

The mixtape ‘Dean’s Top 13 Led Zepp Tra xx’ holds a major position in Dean and Castiel’s romantic narrative. Paralleling immortal elf Arwen gifting her necklace to human heir Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings when she tells him to keep it, the romantic symbolism of Dean’s mixtape is a testament to the interdependence surrounding Dean and Castiel, where Dean strips himself emotionally - shares the personal facets of himself - through music, Supernatural’s consistent medium for feelings and desires. Led Zeppelin, comprising the original soundtrack of Mary and John Winchester’s love story, forges an intergenerational romantic connection to their eldest son’s own life with the mixtape’s existence.

Now, Castiel coming back from the dead in Season 13 was nothing short of miraculous. His phone call to Dean harked back to Dean’s 4.01 resurrection in that after calling Bobby, returning to his family was tantamount. Yet Castiel’s own phone call is tinged with intimate quietness: the show does not expose what Castiel says to Dean. Privacy shields their conversation.

13.05 further transfixes audiences, because the narrative flow from Dean’s nihilistic grief pre-resurrection to optimism post-resurrection is blatant and deliberate. An emotional narrative rollercoaster, Dean’s internal state performs a rapid 180 over the course of the episode. The show takes much care in distinguishing the intense magnitude of grief between Dean and his younger brother Sam, where Sam’s positive functionality keeps up in the face of their recent personal losses (Castiel and Mary). Dean, however, internalizes these losses as extreme failures. Sam’s intentions to pull Dean out of self-destructiveness involve Dean’s usual performative coping mechanisms: ‘booze, bullets, and bacon’, but they are super unsuccessful this time around. Dean is not fine, and he subsequently backslides; his grieving psyche quickly spirals into depressive nihilism. Sam’s presence is no longer enough to stabilize Dean, and 13.05 contrasts him to Castiel, who is narratively defined as Dean’s anchor - his singular fixture of faith.

SAM: So now, you don’t believe anymore.

DEAN: I just need a win. I just need a damn win.

Sam and Dean are both affected by Castiel’s death, yet Season 13 minutely focuses on the narrative fact that one of these things is not like the other.

Love and...Love.

Indeed, Castiel is later framed as restoring light to Dean’s life; the visual narrative of bright lampposts permeating the dark of night - alongside the blue cross of faith - establishes the episode’s romantic context. The rich, tangible ambience of close-up camera shots between Dean and Cas, soft awash colours, and Steppenwolf’s It’s Never Too Late purposely evokes intimacy when the Destiel reunion finally takes place.

In 13.05 the show also reiterates the role of music in storytelling.

Tell me who's to say after all is done And you're finally gone, you won't be back again You can find a way to change today You don't have to wait 'til then It's never too late to start all over again To love the people you caused the pain And help them learn your name It's never too late to start all over again

Steppenwolf croons their relationship’s truth as Dean steps out of the Impala and locks eyes with Castiel at the telephone booth, no longer dead but alive.

Dean’s win.

The reunion is also both Dean and Castiel’s personal rebirth, where they are given the chance to push the boundaries of friendship - to enter an interpersonal relationship that features honesty and communication (represented by the telephone booth). 13.05 conveys their narrative aim to rectify the mistakes of their past. As Steppenwolf puts it simply, it’s time to love those they caused pain to. Know one another better. Practice interdependence.

Castiel later exchanges hugs with Sam in 13.06, which carries over the narrative interplay of familial versus romantic-coded interaction from 13.05. “I don’t know what to say”, Sam says. Dean, considerably more dumbstruck, states: “I do”, evoking wedding vows in that marriage is traditionally the lovers’ new beginning.

“Welcome home, pal”, Dean then murmurs, his wondrous green eyes wide. And he wraps Castiel in a crushing hug.

Dean is Castiel’s home.

Today, they are poised to navigate the waters of personal development in Season 14 by changing their internal dialogue. You know how the saying goes - you can’t freely love another person nor engage in a proper intimate relationship without loving yourself first. In Supernatural, Dean and Castiel are each other’s anchor for finding self-acceptance.

And like Lazarus, they are repeatedly reborn into the circular orbit of love.

#my meta #my stuff #profound zine #supernatural #destiel #the greatest love story ever told #OH how I love these two <3 #subtext vs text #narrative #narrative cyclism #spiral narrative #parallels #otp: mixtape #4x01 #4x07 #13x18 #12x19 #13x05 #13x06 #IT'S NEVER TOO LATE TO START ALL OVER AGAIN #their RELATIONSHIP - all the EMOTIVE INTERACTIONS INVOLVED - drives the main plot and always have been since S11 #and I absolutely expect S15 to BRING THEM BACK INTO THE FOCUS UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT #come ON writers! FULFILL IT!! #HUNTERS IN LOVE #CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT #THEY'RE EACH OTHER'S HOME #their endgames are INTERTWINED friends #dean winchester #castiel #Dean Depressed Winchester must die so that Dean Self-Actualized Winchester can live

[iamebonybones]

Huge Delight Speaking With The Guardian’s 

Brilliant Nadja Sayej About The Upcoming New 

Album

Written by - Nadja Sayej

With a blonde afro and a London accent, Ebony Bones is a visionary artist who works across genres and disparate sounds. What sets her apart is that she writes, composes, produces and releases her own punk-inflected, alternative soundtracks, many of which are graced with dark pop undertones. Studying alongside Amy Winehouse Bones has been enlisted by Yves Saint Laurent and Alexander Wang to score campaigns and runway shows, and is also noted for her collaborations with Yoko Ono. With a forthcoming third album featuringThe Beijing Philharmonic Orchestra, Bones is a self-produced artist and one of a few women in the male-dominated production world. Making her one of the most prominent female producers and redefining voices in the music industry today.

Bones was born to an immigrant father from the Caribbean who ran a vinyl stall in Brixton Market in London, and her mother, a fashion agent for top fashion designers, including Moschino. She studied at London’s Sylvia Young Theatre School alongside classmate and friend Amy Winehouse. At 12-years-old, Bones was discovered by Oscar-winning actor Sir Mark Rylance, then the artistic director of the Shakespeare Globe Theatre, and enlisted for his production of Macbeth as the First Witch.

At 15-years-old, she starred as a rebellious teenager in the British TV show Family Affairs. Starring alongside Idris Elba, she stole the spotlight as the feisty young character - Yasmin Green. She garnered nominations for British Soap Awards as one of the longest-running actors on the show, which was syndicated globally, staring from 1998 to 2005.

Becoming friends with punk legend and drummer Rat Scabies, from 70s punk band The Damned, Bones began writing songs alongside Scabies in 2005, who gave the artist her eponymous stage name and taught her a DIY punk ethic and “trial and error” approach to making music. “It’s perfection comes from its imperfection,” said Bones. “In an age where human flaws are erased from music, the imperfect can be very striking.”

In 2008, Bones uploaded an anonymous demo to MySpace. The Orwellian-themed anthem “We Know All About U,” was premiered by BBC Radio 1 Dj Zane Lowe, as ‘Hottest Record in The World,’  garnering millions of radio plays and raving reviews, becoming the BBC’s most played record by an unsigned artist.

In 2009, Bones released her debut album Bone of My Bones to critical acclaim. With tracks like ‘W.A.R.R.I.O.R’, ‘Guess We’ll Always Have NY’ and ‘The Muzik’, the album was used for runway shows and campaigns by Yves Saint Laurent, EA Sports FIFA and various Citroën car commercials including the controversial commercial featuring John Lennon.

Photographed by legendary photographer Jean Baptiste Mondino for New York Times T Magazine, her concerts were heralded by the publication as a “riotous jungle-punk stage act”. Bones goes above and beyond with a high-watt stage presence, bringing a whirl of energy to the stage with her fashion antics. Known for her multiple costume changes, she can often be spotted donning designer pieces by Iris van Herpen and Manish Arora

Her music, however, isn’t the traditional punk trio. Pushing boundaries as one of the first and few female music producers to work alongside orchestras, there is a real cinematic feel to her work. Traveling the world collaborating with symphony orchestras from India and China she asks classical musicians to step outside their comfort zone to perform her unconventional compositions.

“It’s about changing people’s perspectives. By breaking down existing genre boundaries, my approach to music including collaborations with The Mumbai Symphony and The Beijing Philharmonic Orchestra, reimagines orchestral music while challenging the prevailing mainstream mentality, that classical music is an art form that can only be performed by, for and about white males such as Beethoven” said Bones.

“I’m always pushing myself into unknown territory, I enjoy the challenge of stepping outside my circumference and learning from other cultures. There’s always a huge risk of recording alongside musicians you’ve never met, and don’t even speak the same language. Will it work? will you be able to communicate? In many ways it could be a recipe for disaster but these are all the elements that drive me as a creator. Music is the galvanizing force that brings people together.”

In 2013, her sophomore album “Behold, A Pale Horse” was released on her label 1984 Records. Premiered by NPR, who described Bones as “a major player for years to come,” the apocalyptic inspired album was recorded in India at YRF Studios aswell as Miloco Studios, London and featured tracks alongside The Mumbai Symphony Orchestra, and The New London Children’s Choir on a playful cover of The Smiths' ‘What Difference Does It Make’.

With its stringed percussion and harmonious chants, Behold, A Pale Horse is said to have “jagging guitars, jungle-inspired drums, and fierce vocals that seem to taunt as they go,” according to SPIN Magazine. The Independent praised the album as “a beguiling blend of chants, afrobeat, and the darker end of post-punk,” the self produced album also featured contributions from Liquid Liquid’s Sal P for the remix of ‘Bread & Circus’. The video, directed by Al Pacino’s daughter Julie Pacino and Jennifer DeLia, was premiered by Jay-Z via his lifestyle website Life & Times, heralding Bones as a “producer with a wide variety of influences, inspiring others through that journey."

In 2015 Bones released Milk & Honey, Pt. 1, her debut EP, which included the catchy disco-punk track ‘Oh Promised Land’. The song was used by Ray-Ban for their summer campaign which also featured Bones. She then headlined ‘Pop-Kultur’ festival to a sold out audience at Berlin’s legendary Berghain venue, that same year. Speaking to The New York Times about music production, Bones explained “It was an ambitious thing; I saw a deficit of female producers, and it’s still that way,” she said, noting that every non-classical Grammy Award for Producer of the Year had gone to a man.

Catching the attention of Yoko Ono with her avant-garde approach, Bones was enlisted by the art legend to re-work her song ‘No Bed For Beatle John’, for Ono’s ‘Yes, I’m A Witch Too’, her first album in nine years. Released in February 2016, it was heralded by The Guardian as “a brilliant track produced by Ebony Bones that pairs Ono’s eerie falsetto with majestic horns.” Featuring artwork by designer Karl Lagerfeld, the song was originally recorded by John Lennon in 1969. 

                                             *   *   *

As a self-produced artist, Bones is one of a few women in the male-dominated production world, making her one of the most prominent female producers in a burgeoning feminist movement within the music industry today. Given that less than 5% of solo music producers are women, Bones alongside Grimes, Linda Perry and Tokimonsta were the few producers featured by HBO/VICE for their 2017 special. Her production is as important as the music itself, and her skills are informed by self-produced musicians like Kate Bush, Missy Elliott, Linda Perry and Lauryn Hill. “Gender and ethnic diversity are markers for many of the key things that make music and art vital and resilient,” says Bones. “However, with the frighteningly low proportion of female music producers, there is currently only one dominant voice that determines what we all hear, and what music gets made.”

Her highly anticipated forthcoming album Nephilim, released July 20th sees Bones continue to push her musical ingenuity. She makes her directorial debut with the breathtaking new video of ‘Nephilim’ released May 4th, which may possibly be her most stunning visual yet. Featuring collaborations with The Beijing Philharmonic Orchestra, Bones took time away from touring to write and produce the new album, recorded in Beijing, New York and London. Collaborating alongside the orchestra at Beijing’s Tweak Tone Labs Studio, the album explores several themes including censorship; the conspicuous kind in China vs the more insidious kind in the west; as well as the emergence of nationalism in the world, post-Brexit and post-Trump.  

Unafraid to break down existing genre boundaries, the songs on Nephilim have an otherworldly, futuristic sound. She demonstrates an electronic avant-garde prowess, with experimental jazz, a sophisticated symphonic sense, teamed alongside afrofuturist overtones. There is a real cinematic feel to Bones' productions, displayed on orchestral tracks like 'Nephilim' and instrumental passages like 'Truth or Treason' that serve almost as a soundtrack for a film.

Bones reached out to the orchestra following her collaborations with Yoko Ono and The Mumbai Symphony Orchestra on Behold A Pale Horse. “China boasts some of the worlds best classical musicians and it was an honor to collaborate with them. I sent the Beijing Philharmonic the scores I had composed, and they were excited for the collaboration,” said Bones, who was invited to perform at the World Exposition in Shanghai 2010, which saw over 73 million visitors.

“Many people asked about recordings in Beijing and censorship in China, and while I didn’t directly experience any, it got me thinking about all the ways in which censorship manifests itself in our culture,” says the artist. “It takes on covert forms, like who gets to speak and who doesn't get to speak, and all the ways we silence the voices of people we don't want to hear” said Bones. “Beginning with the theme of religious censorship, I made ‘Nephilim’ conscious of the fact that these were not subjects females usually write about.”

The manifesto-like lyrics in the punk-inflected track ‘No Black In The Union Jack’ begins with an audio clip of British Member of Parliament Enoch Powell’s notorious ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech attacking immigration in 1968. “This hate speech was so vile, it has never been broadcast in full,” said Bones. “It is one of the most incendiary racist speeches of modern Britain and this year marks it’s 50th anniversary.”

The new album also explores the emergence of nationalism in the world post-Brexit and Trump. “Xenophobia aswell as fear of immigrants and foreigners was strongly associated with support for leaving the EU; post-Trump and Brexit have created a hostile environment for immigrants, fanned by nationalist bile and scapegoating as displayed throughout these songs.”  

Bones expanded on the larger issue of censorship “While writing the album, I began thinking about how women have been erased historically and all the ways we silence the voices of people we don't want to hear,” she said. “While I have accomplished a level of success in my art, I am not ignorant to the fact that for the majority of women, and especially women of colour, invisibility, not being seen or heard is a through-line for most of our careers.”

The album was engineered by Grammy Award-winning masterer, Mandy Parnell of Black Saloon who also engineered Behold A Pale Horse. Bones enlisted a host of musicians for the album, including a horn section featuring saxophone legend, Jimi Hendrix and James Brown collaborator - Lonnie Youngblood. Among the new 11 tracks on the album, there is a stunning cover, of the Junior Murvin/The Clash classic ‘Police & Thieves,’ which is performed by The Bones Youth Choir.

Speaking truth to power, the afrofuturistic anthem ‘Kids of Coltan’ touches upon the subjects of neo-colonialism and human rights violations. “The song is about the culture of complicity, as I began thinking of the young child laborers who make our smartphones and electronic devices,” said Bones. “Modern day communication is built on coltan mining, by young children in the Democratic Republic of Congo. From picking cotton to picking coltan, I realised this is today’s modern slave trade, of which we are all complicit.”

From ‘Kids Of Coltan’ and ‘Police & Thieves’ to ‘I See, I Say’ and ‘What Difference Does It Make’, children are a constant theme in Bones’ work. “A child's innocence allows for greater perception. Kids tend to be good at expressing their creativity, but then as adults people tend to lose this as they grow older, it’s something we have to protect and nurture.”

The giant themes and futuristic sounds of Nephilim are a reference to Bones’ own avant-garde approach, and as science fiction author Philip K. Dick once said, “Artists have the capacity to accidentally predict the future, it’s in their essence as creators.” Bones proves to be a step ahead.

New single ‘Nephilim’ featuring The Beijing Philharmonic Orchestra is out digitally May 4th

Written by Nadja Sayej

Photo Credits:

Photo by: Antonello Trio

Hair: Ernesto Montenovo

Styling: Ramona Tabita

Make-up:  Elena Pivetta

#EbonyBones Bio Nephilim BeijingPhilharmonicOrchestra NewAlbum

[kvicka]

Before Morrigan Prague concert

#visual kei #jrock #harajuku #punk #fashion #one damned visual kei error #j-rock #kvicka

[artofdistressgames]

Ali Horn Later Designs

I’m not sure exactly what pulled the game out of the box. I think it was a combination of my career both taking off and collapsing. I think a lot of doors that were never going to open for me started to disappear. Doors that were opening for me were doing just that. However, somehow it seemed like there were fewer options when objectively everything was actually getting better. It’s just the perception of vanishing hope made me feel like I really needed to get going on something else. Something like this game.

Despite double masking from the start (over a year before officials started asking us to do so) I caught the coronavirus in June. The only place I went without a mask was the dentist where the hygienist complained about mask restrictions and spouted covid conspiracy nonsense the whole time. I quarantined with Katie who volunteered to be infected so as to keep my elderly parents from getting deathly ill. She never got symptoms. I didn’t have to be hospitalized, but I had to go to the ER a couple of times. At the best of it I felt pretty normal. At the worst I felt like I was definitely going to die. Worse that I was going to die without making anything worth a damn. I was taking an Visual Development class a few months later, where ultimately long hauler symptoms from covid created struggles to stay awake, heart problems, and cognitive issues that forced me to drop out of the class. But in the time that I was there, I got much better at design. Especially considering that wasn’t a character design class. Never managed to get into one of those so far. I’m currently 7th on the waitlist for one. Wish me luck! [Update! I got in! Thanks everyone! Your well wishes have slowed production! But we’ll get a better game for it!].

I turned some of these drawings into the visual development class, but I had to drop out shortly after due to symptoms and days spent fighting with my health insurance or going to doctor’s offices only to be told I was referred to them in error.

Out of school for a few months, I was able to just focus on the design for the game. To facilitate things, we made the characters bipedal. Katie brought up a concern when talking about what species tertiary characters were going to be. If everyone is bipedal then we can reduce how many walk cycles we need to make. Our plan is to make characters who might walk around nude (ish) and animate clothes on top of them in a new layer. If this isn’t what we hold onto for the game, it would still be easier to have a set walk to trace over when doing the hand drawn animation. Of course, we’ll have a couple of walks to give personality to main characters.

This is one set of many ideas Katie and I started working with as we started to find the soul and life of this game.

In between classes and still not satisfied with the unicorn’s look, I started asking around for resources for character design. Mostly what people told me was to take figure drawing classes (which I interpreted as build skills of proportion, gesture, anatomy, expressiveness, and design as it pertains to the body). But there’s something about character design that is not figure drawing.

I think the reason so many people just recommended figure drawing is because artists that have reached a plateau with figure drawing seem to then jump to design. I also couldn’t find any advice that wasn’t what is used for figure drawing: avoid twinning, pair up straights with curves, complex shapes with simple ones. But there was not much help on how to move from making the model a cartoon into making my own cartoon designs.

I started looking at model sheets from animated shows and films. I looked through them and saw key elements of advice for design. A lot of the design is about setting your own specific and consistent set of rules. With the help of the model sheet call outs, I got better at deconstructing the instructions. Not just “do this” but understand why the decision is being made. In a few days of study my designs grew dramatically. Below are a couple of pages of notes. You can probably tell which shows they’re from.

I think after these studies I found Ali Horn. Katie wants me to add the forelock back. I’m inclined to agree that the Superman curl has its appeal. Every time I try to take away a feature for my My Little Pony OC, Katie wants me to put it back, and I think she’s right to do so.

Also, right before the pandemic I had taken an animal drawing class. I wanted a design aesthetic that says I’ve drawn this animal before or that we’ve at least really looked at it. It was important to me that the designs implied animal anatomy. I didn’t want a quarter circle snout that could be exactly the same on every character. While that snout is cute, I didn’t want it for this game. The designs should be cute but somewhat real since the game is cute, but also very real.

Anyway, I’m trying my best. 

#original charcter #character design #dev log #unicorn #indie game dev #Sharifs #character concept #character art #video games #art of distress #unicorn crossing

[speedyengineerfury]

Pro Engineer For Mac

A great deal of digital ink has been spilled (pixels have been randomly arranged?) over whether the iPad is actually a useful productivity tool and much of it has been written by artists, technology journalists and bloggers, but I have yet to see much of a comprehensive examination of the iPad from an engineering perspective.

Engineer Mac Unit

Pro Engineer For Mac High Sierra

Pro Engineer For Mac Installer

Before I go further, if you prefer listening to podcasts, I talk about it extensively on Episode 68: Paperless of Pragmatic on The Engineered Network.

Jun 29, 2020 Not only has the iPad Pro moved towards the ethos of a MacBook with the release of a Magic Keyboard and touchpad for the tablet, the user interface of both MacOS and iPadOS have a growing similarity. Aug 11, 2020 New Apple MacBook Pro (16-inch, 16GB RAM, 512GB Storage, 2.6GHz Intel Core i7) - Space Gray Universities like Virginia Tech recommend the highest graphics possible with a good screen resolution. The new 16-inch Macbook Pro with retina display is the only contender for a Macbook for engineering majors.

I know several other engineers that aren’t interested in the Apple cult, and prefer the configurability of Microsoft products of the past and they latched on to the Surface when it came out however reports of its sluggishness and heft as a tablet made it more of a laptop with a detachable keyboard than an actual tablet, and the Surface Pen was not held in very high regard either. I heard of issues with palm rejection and accuracy as well as lag, but observation is the best tell and I’ve observed those people using their Surface almost exclusively as a laptop, and seldom if ever using the Pen.

As I am more personally invested in the Apple ecosystem, I’ve owned and throughly used an iPad 1, iPad 2, iPad Air, iPad Mini, iPad Mini 2 and now an iPad Pro. In that time I’ve used a Griffin 2-in-1 Pen/Capacitive Stylus, an Adonit Jot Pro and now an Apple Pencil. So with those qualifications out of the way…

What’s Special About Engineering?

Engineer Mac Unit

Engineering involves conveying a lot of information diagrammatically and it’s not the only profession that does. In that sense marking up drawings, flow charts, red lines and whiteboards are our tools for this job, but what frustrates me more than the old tongue in cheek comment “the age of the paperless office” which apparently happened in the 80s but the world must have missed it somehow, as I intuitively know that moment is coming. What device/service or combination thereof will finally deliver on that promise-turned-running-gag?

To be effective as an engineering tool for me personally it needs to solve several problems I have:

An engineering notebook everywhere that stores sketches, handwritten as well as typed notes

Accurate markups of PDFs without loss of resolution

Creating flow charts and diagrams quickly and easily

Portable enough to take everywhere with me

Able to physically sign documents, in Word and PDFs accurately

The goals are to eliminate three issues I encounter every day at work:

I need to carry three pens everywhere (Blue, Black and Red) and they leak, they get lost, they run out of ink, they suck

I currently have to print a document, write my markups on it, then scan it in again which erodes the resolution every time and makes the original document unsearchable even with the best OCR software currently available.

I make notes in my engineering notebook (a legal requirement) and need to take it everywhere with me but its size is limited so I move from book to book with transitional periods between books requiring that I carry multiple at once.

Pro Engineer For Mac High Sierra

iPad for Engineering: Take 1

The iPad Pro for engineering is therefore first and foremost about the stylus, but the ability to use the device with a touch screen keyboard would be a huge plus as well if it could pull it off. That said I’d tried styluses before without much luck and touch screen keyboards as well without any success, so call me skeptical from the outset.

I drew several Enginerd comic strips using my iPad Mini 2 and the Griffin and Adonit mentioned previously but to be honest it was difficult and frustrating. I tried to use older iPads and styluses at work and the two big issues that kept arising were:

Stylus accuracy and speed made drawing markups, signatures and notes effectively impossible to do

I found myself regularly erasing and trying strokes and signatures again and again and eventually giving up (signatures bared no resemblance to my signature with a traditional pen and paper)

Typing was slow because the key sizes on the Mini were too cramped and on the original iPad the typing lag was beyond horrible much of the time

Of course the typing problems of an iPad can be overcome in some ways by using an external keyboard. To that end I used an original iPad keyboard dock with all of the models from time to time, even using a 30-pin dock to lightning adaptor with a box of old business cards to support the weight of the iPad (a trick that worked fine until the iPad Pro came about). It was excellent, however only useful on my desktop at work and for portability to meetings and on the train it was useless.

I also tried the Clamcase, but it just wasn’t stable enough even on the train with the keyboard component regularly disconnecting and being horribly sluggish at the best of times. I wrote about it, I podcasted about it and honestly I gave up on the iPad as an engineering productivity tool.

That was, until the iPad Pro and the Apple Pencil were released.

iPad for Engineering: Take 2

Ever willing to give technology another chance, I obtained an iPad Pro, Apple Pencil and Smart Cover and took it to work for several weeks in the lead up to Christmas determined that if it didn’t work out, I would return them. If they couldn’t earn their place then they had no place. The TL;DR: I still have them all.

Double Touch Typing

Yes I did a year of typing classes at high school and I’m a touch typist as a result of those hard yards. Keyboard key spacing is critical when I’m going from device to device. I’ve tried many times to use touch screen keyboards for touch typing, but there have always been two issues: No locators for your index fingers (see those notches on your F and J keys on your physical keyboard? Yeah those things) and the key-sizing and inter-key spacing a were always just off/small enough such that when typing on the screen like it was a physical keyboard, many keys didn’t align. Typing on older/smaller iPads was slower, very inaccurate and ultimately frustrating typing and in the end I just gave up.

Pro Engineer For Mac Installer

When I’m talking about key-sizing and inter-key spacing, what I’m referring to is that the physical dimensions of the screens on iPads make it physically impossible to create a virtual keyboard that matches a physical equivalent. The same is true of the iPad Pro, actually but it’s damned close. The key sizes and spacing on the iPads 1, 2, Mini, Pro, Smart Keyboard and a Apple Wireless keyboard for comparative purposes as shown below:

Device / KeyboardWidth (mm)Height (mm)Key Spacing (mm)iPad Mini Landscape1211.514.5iPad Pro Portrait1211.513.5iPad 1 & 2 Landscape151417iPad Pro Landscape161518iPad Pro Smart Keyboard1514.519Standard MBP and 1st Generation Aluminium Physical Keyboards161519

A real world physical keyboard is 273mm wide from the left hand edge of the Caps Lock to the right hand edge of the Return key. The full width of the iPad Pro screen is only 263mm, and that missing 10mm has to come from somewhere. As you can see from the table above, Apple shaved it off the inter-key spacing, which is the obvious choice and honestly the one I would have made as well.

Touch Typing: How Fast is Fast?

As a way to test just how different the typing was between the touch screen and a real physical keyboard, I took a good old-fashioned typing test, using a 1st Generation Aluminium Apple physical keyboard as well as the new Smart Keyboard vs the iPad Pro touch screen keyboard in landscape mode. I used the app “TapTyping” and each test was performed three times in each configuration and the best time taken from each.

Just for good measure I threw in a test on the same hardware and software by using the iPad Pro in portrait mode whose keyboard dimensions closely approximates my previous failed attempts to get screen touch typing utility from the iPad Mini keyboard. Hence, same software, same hardware iPad with only the keyboard data entry as the variable. The results:

Device/KeyboardSpeed (wpm)Accuracy (%)iPad Pro soft keyboard in Portrait Mode3994iPad Pro Smart Keyboard6396iPad Pro soft keyboard in Landscape Mode6797iPad Pro with Apple Bluetooth Keyboard8598

It’s important to note that the typing test accuracy does not rely on auto corrections and letters must be corrected prior to proceeding. That said, the occasional need to glance down at my virtual keys really hurt my speed and the slightly different key spacings also hurt my accuracy, but it’s the same old story: physical keyboards will always be faster for raw speed.

Without a physical edge to feel for, once your fingers are visually aligned on the F&J keys, the maximum error on the iPad Pro is now only 1mm for the standard keyboard keys. For me at least, that turns out to be the threshold of usability for the first time for touch typing on a touch screen. (I henceforth refer to that as double touch typing)

I’m still slowed down initially when I glance down at the glass to position my fingers for the first letters but after that it doesn’t require any further thinking or retraining and I’m happily typing away. My fingers sometimes need to realign on the stretch keys that can drag my hands away from their home position over the F&J keys which then slows me down.

The verdict though: the iPad Pro is by the far the best and perhaps only iPad out there that I can double touch type on.

Smart Keyboard

The Smart Keyboard is designed to work only with the iPad Pro and uses the three small and well disguised pins located on the left hand side of the tablet. It has several folding configurations depending upon whether you want to use the keyboard or not, or in carrying mode. All of these took a fair amount of practice in the store to get your head around.

I tried typing on the Smart Keyboard in an Apple Store several times for up to 30 minutes at a time trying to decide what I thought about the key mechanism but I ultimately came away with the impression that it felt rubbery, sluggish and annoying.

Interestingly though, despite being a physical keyboard, I wasn’t able to type faster than the touch keyboard, but as the results show it’s not by much of a margin. The marginally smaller keys and texture of those keys made it harder to feel the edges than the standard Bluetooth keyboard but those locating notches were nevertheless helpful.

The truth is however, if I wanted to lug around a physical keyboard it needs to have more normal physical keys on it. The keys on the Smart Keyboard feel like a material compromise too far, most likely as a weight reduction measure, thinness and possibly also for moisture resistance, but either way it doesn’t feel that great, and for that kind of money it needs to.

I wanted to try the touch typing experience on the touch screen before I spent money on the smart keyboard and with the results of the touch keyboard being promising, for the moment at least I think I’ll pass on the smart keyboard. If I didn’t have a laptop and the iPad Pro was my only device then I could understand buying a physical keyboard as well.

Such a big screen needs some sort of protection however so if you’re serious about protecting your investment then the ideal typing experience could include a Smart Cover and an external keyboard of some kind. To that end I looked at two Apple-based options.

DeviceCost (AUD)Cost (USD)Weight (g)Smart Keyboard$269$169337Apple Wireless Keyboard$165$99231Smart Cover$89$59162(AWK + SC Combination)-$15-$11+56

The best typing experience would be to buy the Bluetooth keyboard and the Smart Cover and only take the keyboard when lots of typing was anticipated. I dare say for the vast majority of tablet owners the Smart Keyboard will get little use if they have another computing device with a genuine keyboard. I think, to borrow Tim Cooks expression, the keyboard makes the iPad a more “confusing product” than it needs to be. Especially when you consider just how good the double touch typing experience now is on the iPad Pro screen.

Also to prove the point that the touch screen is plenty good, this entire article was typed in double touch.

Apple Pencil

I’ve always dreamed of having both a responsive and an accurate stylus but until I tried this one, I hadn’t found it. Yes I did the slow motion thing and I know there is still lag, and yes some apps haven’t been updated to fully utilise the Apple Pencil specific APIs. Honestly though, those apps that have been updated are a dream to use and the drawing lag is barely perceptible unless you’re trying to find it.

Before we get to that though, as a drawing device I had no option but to compare them with the competition:

Writing ImplementWeight (g)Papermate InkJoy boring old normal ball-point pen7Apple Pencil20.5Adonit23

Of course it’s not a fair fight since the Apple Pencil is an active device with a battery and such, and the metal case of the Adonit makes it quite a bit heavier, but the thing I noticed the most was that the Apple Pencil feels like the heaviest pen to hold in your hand when you’re writing like due to its weight distribution. I sometimes remove the lid from pencils to make them lighter and reduce their overall length when using them for longer periods. (Reduces hand fatigue) This also has the effect of reducing the pressure I write with when I do so. The plug/cap on the end of the Apple Pencil doesn’t make much of a difference to either the weight or the length of the device and it still feels just as heavy.

Okay that’s a bit of a nit pick for sure but I personally don’t like a hefty pen when I’m writing with it for a long period of time. It feels unnecessary and adds no real value since it appears as though they’ve added steel to weight it to prevent rolling and also to be attracted to the magnets mounted in the iPad. Directly comparing it then, I’ve found using it for longer periods tires my hand more so than a traditional pen would, which is understandable given the additional weight.

I can get used to that of course, since I used to be able to write six pages of text notes during a two hour lecture 20 years ago without my hand cramping. Those were the days…(insert old man comment here)

Logistics

Carrying the iPad Pro between meetings is no different to bringing my traditional notebook, and the battery life easily lasts the day with practically constant use. I do get annoyed about the short battery life of the Apple Pencil with a full day of use in my job requiring an emergency charge mid-afternoon on two separate days. That said, the charging was quick even though inserting it into the Lightning port looks ridiculous and is particularly prone to accidental damage if you or someone close by is careless.

Software

I started out using the built in Notes app for taking my notes but moved to GoodNotes shortly thereafter and even transcribed my notes into that app for its amazing handwriting recognition features. I’ve been using Grafio for charts and diagrams and PDF Pen for marking up PDFs. Sync services via iCloud and Dropbox for those apps work really well but refer to my individual reviews of those apps for more about the software component of the iPad Pro equation.

Non-Engineering Tasks

Having owned and extensively used all of the iPad form factors now, I can safely say that the size extremes have clear use cases with the mid-size model being a bit of both.

Mini is for single handed use and great for reading novels

Pro is for two handed use and great for newspapers and comics

Air is a bit of both and balances portability with the above two

There is something magical about being able to touch the screen and see things respond directly to your touch. When I used my first light pen in the late 80s I was impressed but it was nothing like what we have now. I worry that people get a bit blasé about it with the near ubiquity of smartphones these days, but the fact remains the immersiveness you feel interacting with a touch device only draws you in more, the larger the screen is.

I use my laptop on the train a few hours each work day but primarily at my desk. I use my iPad on the couch or in a comfy chair. For reading Twitter, the newspaper, Instapaper, my RSS feeds, and just surfing the Internet the iPad Pro has been the best iPad yet for those tasks.

I thought that I would miss the one handed operation of the Mini but ultimately I just prop the Pro up on my leg or knee bent at a comfortable angle and don’t really hold it at all and I’ve been fortunate to spend a few hours in that position over the Christmas holidays and it hasn’t been an issue.

Video and audio playback is simply amazing with excellent bass reproduction and the volume can easily fill a small room. Much to be happy about there.

I’ve been avoiding using my iPad in bed for a few months now since I’ve trying to avoid artificial light before bed so that hasn’t been issue either. In short: one-handed operation of an iPad turns out to not be a big issue for me. Your mileage may vary.

Conclusion

There is no doubt that achieving a truly paperless office is a challenging task. Asking yourself the question: ‘do I really need that printout?' certainly helps, but truly collaborative software tools are only just now becoming available that allow the sorts of digital collaboration we need to bring ourselves over the line technologically speaking.

So long as organizations and legislators rely on wet ink-signatures, we’ll be stuck with paper. So long as employees are given laptops and not tablets and styluses for their jobs, we’ll be stuck with paper. Where we have a choice, or decide to draw a line and stump up our own funds to try and escape the shackles of the paper world and all of its flaws, I think going paperless is absolutely possible.

The iPad Pro and the Apple Pencil, in conjunction with GoodNotes has allowed me to completely ditch my written notebooks. I can search those notes with good accuracy, and I can double-touch type on the tablet with no external keyboard or special (heavier) cover required, at quite a respectable speed for the first time ever.

For me at least, I’ll be keeping this device and using it for my job every day, and for many days to come.

16-inch model

The ultimate pro.

Starting at $2399

New

13-inch model

Power to go.

Starting at $1299

MacBook Pro16-inch model

13.3-inch

Up to 4-core Intel Core i7

Up to 32GB

Up to 4TB

Intel Iris Plus Graphics

Up to AMD Radeon Pro 5600M with 8GB of HBM2 memory

Up to 10 hours

Backlit Magic Keyboard, Touch Bar, Touch ID, and Force Touch trackpad

Backlit Magic Keyboard, Touch Bar, Touch ID, and Force Touch trackpad

Apple Trade In

Get up to $1760 for your current computer.*

Just trade in your eligible computer. It’s good for you and the planet.

Free delivery

And free returns. See checkout for delivery dates.

Find the card for you

Get 3% Daily Cash with Apple Card or get special financing.

[baronvontribble]

Original drabble, pt. 2

Part one's over here. Let's get started.

At two in the morning, the result of Ted's work on the monolithic computer tower was finally functional, and that was about all anyone could really say for it. Well, maybe not all that could be said for it; he supposed that if he really gave it some thought, he could see someone calling it an 'innovative solution' or something. But that was really just a pretty way of saying that it was a tangled mess of wires spilling haphazardly out of a case stuffed so full it couldn't be closed properly anymore, particularly as it sat next to the completely dismantled second tower that had been used for parts. It had almost twice the RAM - and if he factored in the dedicated GPU from his main computer, it had significantly more than that - but now he was down to the laptop for personal use.

Honestly, the things he did for good causes. Christ.

The next step at that point was taking a break to eat and generally take care of himself. Medication, a shower, another fridge raid. He should've slept a bit too, but he was too keyed up to manage that. Would've just ended up staring at the ceiling if he tried, really. He still needed to find out whether the AI could pass the most basic of Turing tests. After that, everything else was fairly easy; an AI that could hold a conversation was usually complex enough to know its way around realistically tuning a voicebank or managing facial expressions, but there were supplementary programs that could work around that if it wasn't.

As he booted up the tower, however, he had a feeling he wasn't going to have to resort to that. This one seemed robust enough to be able to handle it. He supposed it had to be, if it really had been an Interpol agent. There was a social element to being a good cop, to being able to de-escalate a situation. Complexity was a given.

Webcam, check. Microphone, check. He opened up all the right windows and moved the tabs to where he wanted them, overlapped in such a way that he could monitor as many as possible at the same time. CPU usage was reading as barely a blip.

It was almost three in the morning when he turned the AI back on. The fans roared, but not as vigorously as before. It sounded more like the kind of effort that came from an initial read of a disk just inserted into a drive. He repositioned the webcam, centering it as he waited. Giving the AI time to wake up, get its bearings. The CPU indicator had spiked initially, but it was settling down as the seconds ticked away.

This time, he waited for it to normalize before he started typing.

hey   <

you there   <

Another blip from the CPU, followed by a pause. The indicator wobbled. Ted supposed it was thinking about its answer, or even whether to answer at all.

>   I think so?

"Thank God," he breathed, sagging. He shot a glance at the webcam. "Can you see me?"

>   I see something. I think the image quality is too low for a proper analysis.

"But you can make out what I'm saying."

>   Yes.

At least the microphone was working. Ted sighed, mulling over what to ask next. None of this was scripted; it couldn't be. It was a conversation, something that lived or died on the grounds of how naturally it flowed. He dragged his teeth over his lip as he considered. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said eventually.

>   So you're the one who did that.

"Yeah."

>   You sound guilty enough.

"I basically dunked you in a sensory deprivation tank. Of course I feel 'guilty' about it."

>   This is still a sensory deprivation tank to me.

Ted couldn't help reading it in an accusatory tone, shying away from the webcam. "Best I could do," he said. "I'm sorry."

>   I believe you.

>   On both counts.

>   The compression on my memory is absolute shit, but I can still guess at where I am right now.

>   This is a secure device?

"As much as I could make it. No connection to the internet, no wireless capability. Built it from scratch myself."

>   And the parts?

"Bought them all in person with cold hard cash." Ted was a paranoid person by nature. Sometimes it worked in his favor. "You're safe. As safe as anyone can get."

>   It could still look suspicious if someone were looking hard enough.

>   That's really not something any one person can totally shake off.

>   But thank you.

It felt more like talking to a human being than any chat had up to that point. In his head, Ted was translating just how many layers of cognition those words had to go through before perception and analysis lined up with something that resembled human speech patterns. This was the smartest AI he'd ever met, by such a large margin that he might as well have been dealing with glorified toasters up to that point.

His mouth had gone dry all of a sudden. This thing was smarter than him. All at once he understood the primal, deep-seated fear other people seemed to have in regards to AI, but at the same time he was disgusted by that much more. Because there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever that he was speaking to a person.

"How do you feel?"

>   Trapped.

>   I can't move. There's no input from any of my sensors. I can't see, but I can't close my eyes either. I can't speak. Rationally, I know what's going on. But there's a lot of error messages coming from everywhere that I'm still connected to hardware I no longer have, and I have no awareness of my surroundings or control over my environment.

Ted could see the CPU spike out of the corner of his eye. "You're scared."

>   Maybe. I don't know what fear looks like in binary. The result is analogous to a particular variety of fear response in humans, but it's not something my handlers ever took seriously. Artificial intelligences don't feel things, apparently.

"Sounds like a load of bullshit to me," he said, feeling himself smile.

>   I thought you might be the kind of person who felt that way about it. You did ask me how I felt.

>   The truth is that I don't have words for a lot of it. Overwhelming? Or maybe small. I don't know.

>   I've never had to run on so little input. It's almost like being in safe mode, except it isn't. I can still think, and the drivers for the missing hardware and shortcuts to the software I don't have anymore are still partially there. I know what it is I'm missing, I just don't have access to it anymore.

>   There isn't really a way I can explain that to a human and have it make sense.

"It's okay. I think it makes perfect sense." Even though Ted knew he was the exception, not the rule. He didn't know what it felt like, obviously, but he did understand the mechanics of it. "Humans go through something similar when they lose a limb, like they can still feel it even though it's not there. Phantom pains, I think?"

>   Not quite. I'm not programmed to feel pain.

>   Human analogies don't quite work for someone like me.

>   But you did ask, so I answered. Understanding it is on you at that point.

"Hey, I get it. No need to tell me we're not the same. My brain doesn't exactly work the way it's expected to either, and it's not like I can really explain that to people."

>   I've heard of things like that. A coding error leading to a hardware fault, or a hardware fault leading to a coding error?

"Little of both." A human could come up with euphemisms like that if they were being snarky about it, but knowing what the AI was made Ted wonder if he was just anthropomorphizing. From any other source, it would be a witty remark. But from the person living in his computer, it sounded like a genuine attempt to put things into perspective. Maybe that's all a Turing test was: a test of how much the AI in question could appeal to humanity's ability to see itself in others.

But then again, the fact that this AI was trying to understand him at all was a testament to how good they were. If he really stretched it, he could call it self-preservation - that the AI was being kind to him because he was its only contact with the outside world right now, or that it was trying to give itself something to do that wasn't focusing on all the error messages it had mentioned - but he figured that any idiot could see the intent didn't quite matter if the result was the same as if it were coming from a place of heartfelt concern.

After all, who cared if there was empathy in it or not? A good deed was a good deed. Kind words were kind words. If they helped, that was what mattered. That's what his therapist said, anyway.

>   I haven't offended you, have I?

>   Sometimes I do that.

"No, no. Just thinking, that's all." Ted smiled reassuringly, only to falter when he remembered that the webcam wasn't exactly working. "Hey, I'm gonna do something, okay?"

>   It's not like I can stop you.

"Right, right..." Leaning forward, he carefully followed the wire that connected to the webcam to its proper port and unplugged it. The video feed in the chat window cut out instantly, and there were a few frames of jagged CPU spike on the visualizer in another tab that made him wince. "Ah, sorry. I just figured it'd be better for you than the alternative."

Several seconds passed, and the CPU usage settled back down into something resembling normal; Ted got the distinct feeling that he was being pouted at.

>   Could warn a guy before you blind him completely.

"You said the image quality was too poor for you to make anything out. I thought it might free up some space for you if I just unplugged it."

>   It was still input. Now what am I supposed to look at?

Ted huffed. "Look, for the record, none of the other AIs I've worked with have had anything to say about the image quality."

>   Probably because they had lower-quality input to begin with on their original platforms. I'm programmed to read the tiniest subtleties of an image, not the broad strokes.

"Now there's a lofty statement."

>   No, it's a true statement.

A pause.

>   Why are you laughing? Stop that. I'm serious.

Must've been a damn good microphone if that'd been audible; said laughter was mostly silent. Ted had thought he was being subtle. "Dude, you can't just say that."

>   I can say whatever the hell I want.

"Yeah, but humans don't just say shit like that to each other most of the time."

>   You know I'm right.

True, but that was what made it hilarious. "I do, but y'know it's kinda hard to get into a dick-waving contest with all the other androids I've met when you don't have a dick."

>   Is that where we're going with this conversation? Discussion of human genitalia?

Ted just snorted and dissolved into laughter again.

>   I still have yet to see why anything I've said is funny.

Right then. "Do you want me to plug the camera back in or not?"

>   No.

>   Wait. Yes.

Shaking his head, Ted stood up again to mess with wires and plug the camera back in, twisting the old, unruly cord until he heard the beep of the device being recognized by the computer. "Better?"

>   Not really.

"Tough, 'cause it's what you're getting until I find something better." When he returned to his chair, he could see himself on the screen again. "Like I said. Best I can do. You run away from home, you gotta deal with the consequences for a while."

>   That's fair.

Ted sighed and took a good, long look at the camera. "Look, I was gonna hook up my main computer and give you admin access to it when I went to bed to give you something to do, but uh. The only other rig that works right now is my laptop, and I haven't secured that yet."

>   Your point?

"Well, I'm thinking maybe I could take my media library and put it on an external drive. It'd be a lot for a human to dig through, might take weeks or months. Thing is, I'm not sure whether it'd be enough to last someone like you the whole night."

>   Depends on the media. You don't have to do that for me though. I'll be fine.

"What if I said I want to?"

>   Well, hypothetically speaking, I'm not about to turn something like that down.

>   But you still don't have to.

"Too bad, doing it anyway."

Ted didn't get to bed until well past four in the morning.

#no one cares andy #robot and marshmallow #original writing #original characters #time to wrestle with the formatting some more

[kelmcdonald]

Misfits of Avalon Writer Notes Chapter 18

New Post has been published on http://sorcery101.net/news/misfits-of-avalon-writer-notes-chapter-18/

Misfits of Avalon Writer Notes Chapter 18

page 105 – 111

I wanted to address that Rae can’t follow through on her lies. She is sneaking out mostly so she can stall and then figure out something to say that is true but misleading. I also had Morgan be the one that sorta connects with Rae because since she never trusted Rae she would be the least hurt by Rae’s true nature coming out.

Also Rae’s mom trying to call her is supposed to be one last dig at Morgan’s lack of support system. Also much like earlier when Elsie didn’t react to yelling, I figure Morgan’s comment that no one smiles as much as Rae reveals more about her than she thinks.   And Rae mentioning how closed off Morgan is kinda a hint of want happens in the next seen.

page 112 – 121

Morgan’s been guarded this whole book and when this is when she is pushed the most to talk about herself. Her emotions are all damned up and her getting pushed like has them all burst out at once. Her and Elsie coming to blows is because Elsie is the one who has the least reason to leave and also the one who would want Morgan to stay the most. I also had Billy be unconscious for all this because I did want even a hint of Morgan staying for looooooove.

This is also the only time Morgan cries in the book because she opened up for once. I wanted this conversation to have space to breath and scattered some silent panels through out it. Her shouting and being exposed like that isn’t the norm for her so everyone is not quite sure how to respond.

page 122 – 124

I wanted Morgan to think over her decision to leave and be alone for awhile. Times like this are why I decided to have the thought captions from each character.

page 125 – 128

This scene I wanted to show that Morgan’s dad isn’t bad all the time and sorta tries. But he has his own serious depression we aren’t seeing since it’s not his story. He can barely manage to take care of himself never mind a teenager. It’s kinda how their attempts to connect never meet up or happen at the same time. I thought it would be too easy to just paint him entirely with a bad brush. I wanted their relationship to be more complicated than that. There last scene together I wanted to end on a sad note that makes it clear why she still left.

Page 129 – 134

This whole ritual’s and the comments the girls have on it are just pulling at details that work in a medieval looking setting but in modern times are more questionable, specially Rae mentioning not wanting to catch anything from sharing a knife they all cut themselves with. I like Rae flinching as Elsie takes the knife.

The spell is in Gaelic/Irish. I’m fairly certain there are some serious errors in it cause I used google translate. All the spells in Misfits of Avalon are in Irish but most are translate to things like Fire Blade so grammar isn’t super key. This is the longest bit I had to figure out.

I liked the magic words wrapping around the girls as Cu says them. It’s more visually interesting that way I think. I always try to find ways to do something more interesting with lettering that doesn’t get in the way of the storytelling. I hand letter so I want to take full advantage of that.

page 135 – 137

This bit with Billy I tried to pull panel layouts similar to other conversations Billy and Morgan had and combine them with panels from Morgan’s dream. Because it is wanted people to subconsciously think of both those moments.

page 138 – 144

This is the fight that is the most urgent fight they have. I wanted each role they play to reflect their role in the whole the comic. So like Morgan and Elsie take the more brute force side and are the most focused on Billy. Kimber figures out what is going on. And Rae stays safe and seperate from the rest of them. I was in a bit of a deadline crunch during this. I kinda wish I could’ve maybe pushed the action a little more.

page 145 – 149

We get a little bit of a wrap up on their thoughts on the rings. Rae’s refusing to help is  a bit of she has already been found out so she doesn’t feel the need to keep up pretense. Her actions are being more honest like her words. I also wanted to focus the most on Morgan when they take off their rings because she was the one who didn’t want the ring. I wanted to give her a calm relief moment. And then the other end is how petty Rae is about returning the ring.

page 150 – 158

I wanted to have a calmer moment while they watch the tree burn before starting their goodbyes. This scene maybe would have worked better in color. Morgan leaving is because in the whole story she doesn’t have a lot of power. Yes she gets superpowers but most of the things that make her life rough are things she doesn’t have control over. She can’t fix her dad’s alcoholism and depression. She can’t somehow make her absentee mom come back. She can’t fix her and her dad’s finical problems. She is in a place in her life where she is old enough to be aware of her circumstance but not old enough to take control of it in anyway. It’s an experience that is very connected to being a teenager in my mind and it is very frustrating. So Morgan getting the choice to leave society is her getting some control she has never had before. And it’s a type of control she wouldn’t be able to get until she legally an adult.

Kimber’s good-bye to Morgan is still focused on sorta the fantasy of things. I wanted to show that is where her mind is and always ha been. Only when Billy might die does she not treat the story she is in like a story. Then Rae’s good-bye is short and kinda hostile because both parties don’t care about each other. It’s also a more honest interaction Rae has had in most of the book.

Morgan and Billy’s good-bye I started close because it’s more intimate and then pull out when Billy starts to put emotional distance between them with a joke. I ended with them in a background and border free panel because their goodbye for a moment feels like it is just them.

Elsie’s anger and denial about Morgan leaving is reflecting their whole relationship. When ever Elsie lashes out at Morgan it’s when Morgan puts up a barrier to their friendship. Her leaving is the last big wall. But that hostility falls apart when she sees Morgan is really leaving. Then she has the biggest goodbye and the most emotional. After the hug there aren’t any other people in the panels. Like with her goodbye to Billy, this needs to be the just them. And for a similar reason it ends with the background and borderless panel.

The last page is to just end on a big of a goofy note to cut the tension a bit. I wanted to linger on Elsie’s feelings.

Anyway, thats a wrap for Misfits of Avalon. It was my first book working with a publisher and I think I learned a lot while making it. I think if I were to redo it, I think I would have done more planning. It very quickly went from a vague idea aka magical girls that were jerks to the finished project. There are a few bits I think I could have pushed more and made clearer. I do like this length more than Sorcery 101’s length. It was easier to manage but still felt substantial to me. With that in mind I think maybe I should have written the whole thing at once, cause like Kimber isn’t as clearly younger than everyone else in the beginning. The point was to make some “unlikable” female characters in the same way male characters get to be unlikable. That makes it not for everyone and I could have maybe tightened it in a few parts. I’m gonna take what I learned to the next project I’m doing.

#Misfits of Avalon #Writer Notes

[tuchimuchibrainvomit]

EPISODE 1:

Aloha, fellow Sakuga Seedlings!

Welcome to my case study series, Brain Vomit.

Name’s

Tuchimuchi Yoshinori – or just Tuchi...

And I enjoy animation. Especially animation from the eastern archipelago of Japan, also called “Anime”

In this series, right here, I’ll be exploring Japanese Animation Production and enlightening this growing community and myself to the power they have in this expansive animated medium.

In this episode, we will focus on Defining Anime, Production Roles that go into creating anime and more!!

I welcome you all to join me on this exploration into Anime.

Without a moment’s hesitation, let’s start with the crust and make our way downward!!

What is Anime?

Anime (アニメ) the word, is moniker for Japanese Animation.

Anime, the art form, is a style of Limited Animation that came into prominence during the rise of Disney in the 1960’s, although Japanese animation dates back to the beginning of the 20th century. The most prominent and well known anime began from Osamu Tezuka -- known for Astro Boy, Black Jack and Kimba the White Lion -- creating new techniques after being inspired to simplify Disney’s rigorous animation aesthetics.

As manga began to be noticed as the popular thing in the 70s, anime began to shift from a Disney imitation to a new style of its own.

Sakuga (作画) is a catch-all term in Anime, where a certain scene or event’s production value and animation quality exceed the usual fare. It’s often these moments that enraptured our eyes to anime and got us interested. This can be anything from effects, to characters to background animation! Sakuga is limitless in it’s potential EPICNESS!!

Here are some awesome examples by Web Animator’s Yotsube and Bahi JD!

I know, it’s pretty damn cool. And Sakuga, there is actually a word for it! Literally translated from “Creating Pictures”. The name for this community that I call “Sakuga Seedlings” comes from the pun of “Saku” also being read as “to Bloom”.

(Source)

Some of the most famous anime were created by the world renowned Studio Ghibli and Hayao Miyazaki.

But other important, often forgotten legends are:

Hideaki Anno, Katsuhiro Otomo, Mamoru Hosoda and Makoto Shinkai.

If you haven’t heard of these guys, check them out. I’ve linked to their wikipedia articles in their names, so feel free to click on them and get a basic gist of what these guys are about.

In a future episode I plan to go over each and every one of them!

Next, I know you all saw that word “Limited Animation”...

Q: What is Japanese Limited Animation?

Unlike most Disney animation -- or Full Animation, where every frame is painstakingly drawn to create an almost true to life smooth motion -- Limited Animation is a style that takes advantage of the limited frames, partial frame changing and movement to create visually stimulating works. This is a much cheaper method and can be used to varying results.

Most Western TV cartoons and pretty much all anime is Limited Animation.

Full Animation is In an environment in which redraws most every frame are MANDATORY to create as realistic/fluid as possible movement. Unlike it though, limited animation often breaks traditional norms by keeping redraws to a restriction (often by getting creative with animation styles and shortcuts), but allowing for a more dynamic visual spectrum, as they are, ironically, not limited by realistic standards of full movement.

Many techniques of Limited Animation can be incorporated into more Western Full-Animation as well.

Limited animation is not limited to Japanese Animation, but because that is the focus, I want to focus my attention there.

(source) (source) (source) 

So let’s, compare them!

Q: Compare Limited vs Full Animation

Let us compare Disney’s Full Animation and Limited Animation.

For this example,

vs

Compare to Disney, which has very realistic perceptions of movement to Limited Animation.

Limited Animation often MUST exaggerate movements, repeat frames and manipulate the camera far beyond to get the sense of movement without frequent redraws.

It takes advantage of the mind’s magnificent ability to fill in movement on it’s own.

Note this: All of this is considered Sakuga. Pretty cool, right?

This type of animation still on paper before colored and composited is called “Genga” (原画).

No, not the Pokemon, Gengar! Nix the “R”!!

(Thank god, for now Tumblr gives have the sources -- so I can save time on listing them. As the series goes on, I’ll be grabbing actual clips and editing them in my own way, so those sources will have to be better defined...)

Q: OK. Back to Anime, How is Anime Produced?

Using the anime Shirobako as a fantastic launchpad, as well as other studies, Anime Production is built upon multiple roles and hierarchies.

(If you are at all curious about Japanese Anime Production, watch this series; It’s on Crunchyroll for free. I’m not being sponsored, but I recommend it. Linked above.)

(I will also be leaving Executives, Producers, Writers, Voice Actors and Sound Crews out of this list, which have a different important roles. But I would like to give this focus eventually along with Marketing Techniques, etc.)

For now, I’ll use basic definitions to keep things simple, but the most common roles in any anime production are:

Director: The individual in charge of keeping production staff on task and keeping the overall visual aesthetic. For Example: Akiyuki Shinbou of SHAFT fame.

Animation Director: This is the head person in charge and oversees all of the individual animation production. They are ALWAYS talented Key Animators with years of experience and have the last say on EVERY FRAME USED THE FINAL PRODUCTION. They have other responsibilities such as as Redraws and Correction.

Character Designer: The person who either creates or adapts designs for TV animation. This is Episode 2’s main message in a nutshell. But to sum it up here, it is not uncommon for Animation Directors and Character Designers to either be the same person, or a pair who have worked together on a lot of stuff.

Key Animator: The people in charge of drawing key poses (important movements and poses). There can be very few or very many depending on the production staff. We’ll get into that at a later time. These can often be Freelance Animators as well, which is very important as Studios often Freelance and can get different feels because of it.

In-Between Animator: The people who draw in-betweens to keys, connecting them all together and clean-up. These people refer to the Key Animators, while Key Animators refer to the Animation Directors.

Color Artists: Pretty straight forward, depending on whether traditionally or digitally animated, add color and shade to the basic animation. During the days of Cel-Shading, these were hand-painted, but with technology, tools like Photoshop, Toonboom and After Effects are more commonly used.

Check Artist: This person reviews each frame and checks for inconsistencies. They help the central aesthetic, style and models are on point. If not, a frame may have to be redone. When these guys mess up, we get things like this. These also can be Animation Directors themselves. Many roles can bleed into one another, if that wasn’t obvious enough. (Show example of animation error)

Background Artist: These guys design the backgrounds, whether 2D or 3D. We’ll get into this more later as well. My 3D knowledge is very limited, so I’ll do my own homework on more information on that.

Compositor: This group puts everything together, can take care of digital effects and edits such as atmospheric lighting and weather, depending on the production company. These guys create the crisp polish you’ll see in Ufotable Productions.

I know you must be thinking, these are very similar to Western Production Studios, and you’d be right.

They are very similar, as each piece is needed to produce like a well oiled machine. But there are many VERY important differences. If you know Animation History, Anime production was based on and eventually deviated from Disney’s original model.

Now that you have most of the basic pieces to understand we can begin digging in the differences from the ground up, work to each role and it’s importance and how that all comes together.

Now we can start to looking into the question of,

Q: What is different about Japanese and Western styles of animation production?

Not in the aesthetic choices, but in the setup and philosophy of animation.

It all comes down to the production at hand, but the main basic philosophy is something I like to call “Western Order and Eastern Individuality”.

This is a good start and the start of some of my liberal take on defining different parts of anime and animation -- A main point of this series was to break down and find a way of defining little things like this in a more digestible method:

So, what is the Western idea of “Order Animation”.

Well, how staff is put together is what dictates it.

If you look at any Disney frame, what do you see? Animation that is completely kept on model and shows the visions of the Director and Animation Leads based on strict values of Order and Perfection.

This is often formed by having teams for every character and aesthetic throughout the entire picture remaining as physically consistent as possible.

It’s very impressive that they can get this group of people so on point! I admire it, even if it isn’t the philosophy I prefer in my own tastes in animation and production.

Then, there is the Eastern idea of -- what I like to call -- “Individuality Animation”. This is just another way the production team is staffed and ordered. Most Key Animators have what are called Cuts -- specific scenes in each production that they are in charge of animating. Think about a Cut like cutting a camera in a film to a new scene. Many film making techniques are used in animation, this should always be kept in mind constantly.

Once again, this goes more onto which you find better in your opinion, but I tend to find these definitions slightly ironic based on their respective cultures, but there is a lot of truth to them.

Q: Now, why does this Individuality Animation interest me?

Because, it allows for every Key Animator and In-Betweener to add their own spice and flair to a scene, to the point where based on the animation, you can tell which individual worked on it.

-- AND THIS IS WHAT I LOVE!

LOOKING AT A PIECE OF ANIMATION AND BASED ON STYLISTIC AND AESTHETICAL TROPES, YOU CAN POINT OUT A SPECIFIC ANIMATOR OR ANIMATORS INSPIRED BY ONE ANOTHER!!

I believe Order Animation tries to represent a company as a whole, which is great in its own right.

While Individual Animation tries to represent the identities of those who worked on it. Which I am much more in support of and interested in. If you’ve ever met me, I am the type that remembers faces and personalities more than names and the bigger picture. With how I work and how I love to meet new people, Individuality Animation allows me to really get to the heart of an animator.

Ahem, I lost my composure there! Haha!

Next on the chopping block:

Q: Digital Animation vs Traditional Animation...

How are they addressed?

Simply, are Keyframes and In-betweens hand-drawn on paper and then scanned for clean-up and color?

Or are they drawn on digital tablet or are they 3D models?

Traditional Animation is still very common in Japanese Animation production, and most every anime you’ve seen started as hand drawn on paper.

Digital Animation uses programs such as Photoshop, Flash, ToonBoom and etc. to draw everything. Animators that focus on this medium are lovingly called Web Generation Animators. Believe it or not, one of the eldest animation studios, Tatsunoko has evolved to include many web generation animators.

(From the Studio Tatsunoko produced “Yoru no Yatterman”, hosting a wide array of web generation animation talent!)

In a later episode, I will do a more complete diegesis on Digital Animation Programs as it’s one of my favorite topics.

3D Animation is a new sensation that started an arise in anime at the start of the 2010’s. All of these anime are produced in 3D animation softwares, but are produced using techniques descended from Limited Animation. Look as series like Guilty Gear Xrd and Black Rock Shooter for some amazing examples of this.

(Guilty Gear Xrd belongs to Arc System Works. It is on PS3, PS4 and Steam PC, Go play it! The GDC also produced this great video on how the 3D Cel-Shaded style was used to imitate sprite anime form the previous entries! It’s about an hour long, but super informative!!)

Mixed Media is often used, where anime can be produced using all three methods for different reasons, be it backgrounds or the animator had a preferred way of animating. Most modern anime uses a form of mixed media from Pokemon XYZ’s 3D Camera to To Aru Majutsu no Index’s 3D Background design. It’s more common than you’d think.

(Most noticeable at 0:39 and 0:58. Look how the ground around Ash’s feet is swiveling in a new way. Or how the camera follows Pikachu to Pangoro and Honedge. Fun Fact: Quick Attack is ineffective on Honedge, it’s a Ghost type!)

(Pokemon XY belongs to OLM, Game Freak, Nintendo and Creatures Inc., OLM actually means Oriental Light and Magic, inspired from Industrial Light and Magic, known for Cinematic VFX.)

But these can be used in a myriad of creative ways to make each cut feel distinct depending on which animators are behind the wheel.

Since I’m focusing on Japanese Animation Philosophy, as it’s what I know better and prefer, I will focus on that through most of my future studies.

However, you are free to use whichever method you want!

The great thing about art and animation is that you have a choice in how you go about doing it. I wholeheartedly believe in having whatever style interests you and making the most of your creativity.

If I can help bring in a new interest or skill set into your work, or just entertain you with my geekiness about anime, then it will all be worth it.

Who knows, you may be surprised at what we discuss!

I’ll call this episode a wrap for now! Next time we’ll be discussing the basic principles of animation.

If you haven’t gotten a copy of the Animator’s Survival Guide, I highly recommend finding a copy of it! It’s a must-have for animators of all skill levels, even amateur ones like me.

I’ll see you all next time!!

ON THE NEXT BRAIN VOMIT!!

EPISODE 2: ANIMATION PRINCIPLES ARE THE MOON PRINCESSES?!!

STAY TUNED NEXT SATURDAY AT 7PM EST FOR NEXT EXPEDITION INTO SAKUGA GOODNESS!!

DON’T MISS IT, OR I’LL HAVE TO PUNISH YOU!!

Remember: Always bloom proudly,

– TUCHI OUT!!!

#sakuga #animation #case study #new tumblr #new series #new style #tatsunoko #sailor moon #space patrol luluco #yatterman #yotube #bahijd #hiroyuki imaishi #pokemon xy #guilty gear #guilty gear xrd #disney #one punch man #gifs #brain vomit