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#He is the ultimate ghoul king that walks among us!
ylove-bandaesthetics · 7 months
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Bands & Monsters! ☠️🤘🏼
Rob Zombie + Ghoul! 💀
“One grave in every graveyard belongs to the ghouls. Wander any graveyard long enough and you will find it.”
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uroborosymphony · 1 year
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FOR @ECLAVIGNE ⬩ 26 FEBRUARY 2023 ⬩  MIDNIGHT
In the heart of the night, the core of winter, the wind was cold, made of ice. The trees and leaves, dancing under the breeze as the lamia was standing still, only these white locks of hers floating around her frame like Medusa. Calixtus Orion. The Witch Killer, Traitor of the Night. Her name and her titles were on the lips and fangs of every single creature of the night in 19th century during the Great War against the Witches and the Order of the Knights. Fierce and feared, she was a conquerant. Two centuries have passed then, with its battles, its sorrows, its peaces and pains. Hasn't she lost her mind after the great defeat - cutting her own head, slicing her own flesh and limbs with her own sword she kept on pulling from her shadows, over and over, for a hundred nights of red moon say the tales. Desperate. Humiliated. Damned to live with the weight of her mere existence. It's just Calista now. Many would have thought the 12th daughter of Hecate did give up on her quests and journeys however, at the dawn of the 21st century, her thirst for new battles were now running under her skin. The unexpected have made its way to modern times. New powers she has witnessed from Sons and Daughters of the Gods who got reincarnated among the humans. It became part of a new plan of hers : to steal the said powers and use these them to fulfill her ultimate goal : her end. To achieve that, she was ready to open the doors of Hell again. Vine. She often thinks of the Ruler himself. Could he be an ally, again? Certain not. Her hatred for a man who enslaved her soul and made a fool out of her TWICE was still burning, even 200 years later. It wasn't his help she would ask for tonight, no, but something completely degrading : to finally work for him. Ugh. The vampiric creature she was had no choice, in order to carry on her new obsessions she had to reconnect with the World of the Night , the one she has rejected like her own skin. She needed to walk down the underworld realms again, to re open these doors, to be aware of what was happening among the creatures of fires and eveil, to see if the new generations of Witches have rebuilt themselves after the massacre she orchestred, to taste the waters and wonder if the ghouls and vampires were still oh so fond of her.. or Not. It did take her days and days before finally accepting that : yes she had to summon him, the King, and so she does, at the top of this hill she was standing on. A call the lamia knew he would answer. In her black attire, she feels him, in her back and a smirk is drawn on her lips, her fang showing, as nontchalently she looks above her shoulder.
"Vous, ici?"
All languages could be spoken in between the two hellish beings, languages from both the earthling realms and the underworld ones as they mastered all of them. Her choice was always inspired by one of their adventures. French, for the in 1845, from the Atlantic lands of the French coasts to the Eurasian mountains for the as a new race of Blood Witches was birthed among the humans - They, of course, exterminated the entire line to the womb. Have she changed? Her skin remained untouched, immaculate, undamageable. Her hair however, turning more and more white as she was becoming more and more powerful through her blood empowerment. And her eyes, these golden orbs of hers, telling a different story, heavier, darker. Vine met her when she was 400 years old only, the lamia freshly turned 600 this year.
"My My. Greedy for my presence, are we? Do not tell me you have missed my fangs and claws in such unbearable ways you would come and get me like this, Demon? How Scandalous."
It was one of her usual games, out of playfulness, to pretend she did not just summon him. Her signature smirk on her lips as the lamia slowly turned around, her sharp eyes examinating him, standing face to face. There were only two creatures Calista considered her equals in these realms, and well, Vine was one of them. That was the most infuriating part, to her, how despite his betrayals and her constant day dreams about killing him, they would always and constantly end up side by side. Which, in a anti logical and twisted Calista way, meant she respected him.
"I have thought of your offer, Earl. The one presented to me on our last encounter in the meadows near rivers of my own blood. The atmosphere in your offices must feel terribly monotonous without a presence as delightful as mine. It is about time I explore new playgrounds, don't you believe? I'm taking the job. Take me there. Show me what you have. "
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werezmastarbucks · 4 years
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coming back was a mistake
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the reader bonds with kai over their shared dislike of mystic falls
kai parker x fem!reader
word count: 2494
warnings: language, the POV’s are changing
music: poa alpina by biosphere
This damn hole hasn’t changed a bit. The same old story: clean, tongue-licked glowing welcome sign. There we go. Then there will be this turn on the left... oh no, wait, bless, the road has been destroyed. The wooden white bridge connects this part of the highway with the town, and here we go. First houses, Livingstones used to live here, and their son was bullied by literally everyone at school, because he always had stupid haircuts. Word is, he’s dead. Welcome to Mystic Falls, the town where normal people can last up to one year.
Your house was still standing on the 19th November Street, cuddled by dry rose bushes. Apalling. All the other houses on the street have it together. The window sills are freshly painted and the porch is clean, the flowers are watered and cut, and then there’s this fucking outrage of a dwelling where the remains of your family reside.
You had to keep your act together but this town just infuriated you. You couldn’t understand why people would stay here when they could leave right after they’ve turned of age. What kept them? The charming crab-shaped park where everybody stored their dead bodies? The library on the main square where the entitled old lady has been residing for the last 500 years and telling you off for breathing? The blood-red clock tower dinging and donging every damn twenty minutes. No, wait, it must be the staggering fifteen streets. It must be the magic of running into your parents on the Market Street at ten am when you’re supposed to be at school. It’s the neighbors watch, the bored, jaded people’s desire to know everything about everybody. It must be all the supernatural jerks swarming here, killing everybody left and right, acting like their collective age is twenty years old. The fashion in this city has not changed since two thousand and thirteen, either. Nothing did.
The blood-red clock tower was still announcing the midnight hour through the dense hot air, the cars were still disgustingly clean like the citizens had nothing else to do except wash their cars all day long; Damon Salvatore still had the bitch expression on his face, fuming over the next this-just-in ghoul drama, pacing slowly in the living room of his ridiculous, always half-lit mansion with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Stefan was still miserable. Elena’s hair was still golden-black, smooth like a mirror, and you were still mortally tired of all this.
You could feel your negativity fill you up to your throat and eating on you as you drove up to the house and looked at it. The light was on, but nobody came out to meet you.
You were still coming once a year.
You sighed and turned off the engine, then left the car. It’s just a week. Then you can come back home and start pretending you don’t have Mystic Falls past again. The thought of going back home, running back like a rabbit, was what got you through every year.
You walked up the porch. The door wasn’t locked.
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He liked this space here. The tenth row, seventeenth seat. He was like a cat, choosing the perfect spot. From here, he could see the clearing between the trees on the other side of the field, where a lady was walking her adorable huskie every evening at eight sharp. The dog was damn smart and the lady wasn’t. Kai had no idea how smart she actually was, she just didn’t look smart. The field below was empty now that it was summer and the eerie hollow feeling gave him a lot of kicks. The place that’s supposed to be full of people, literally made for big gatherings, the seats and all, empty, gave a special vibe. Looking around it, especially at the evening hour, when August was doing its best in the skies, was strangely nice. Nobody saw this side of Kai Parker when he was just sitting quietly, an expression of satisfaction on his face, on his chosen spot, and observed this quiet empty place like a little black king.
He saw somebody and went invisible in a second out of some instinct he couldn’t explain. It’s been some time since his presence caused an outcry of anguish among the party of people... a lot of time, actually. Nowadays, people would just roll their eyes. Don’t care. They’re the losers, living in this boring swamp, fidgeting with their pathetic drama every day. Kai didn’t know how they managed to tolerate themselves. And the hair! Everybody had this inexplicably perfect hair, glistening like they all wore wigs.
Oh my god.
What if they all wear wigs?!
Kai started giggling, thinking about that.
He was now looking at this girl in a crop top that matched the color of her skin. The girls do that, they wear the tops that match their skin which Kai finds very suggestive. Okay, you have all my attention.
Cruising around this unbearable place, he has familiarized with all the faces, and this one was new right away. She started running. You know how people usually jog, without a hurry, with the dumb light-hearted expressions on their faces, and the 90% of them always imagine they’re in some expensive automobile commercial. It helps them jof. This one ran. She did two tours around the field and stopped. Wrong, you’re supposed to walk or else your heart will burst. She stood, her hands on her thighs, her face up, and watched the sky. Kai had no idea why he was hiding from her, but he felt too comfortable now to manifest himself. She was listening to her music in her earphones and looking at the slowly drifting long clouds, and she looked like she was either pissed or very thirsty. Leaning a bit backwards, she just gave him the honors. The ribs were heaving, her stomach breathing for her. Her hand came up to her throat. Kai tried to picture her at the Mystic Grill, or on the main square; whether she looked similar to anybody he’s seen here; he looked at her hands and arms, the way she moved her jaw as if those pretty lilac clouds have done something to her and she was about to get even. She shook her head animalistically, getting rid of some thought. Girl, I know that. You’re trying to shake them all off through your ears, it doesn’t work. He felt for this pretty, collected lady who ran around the track like she was chasing somebody for a murder. Kai liked that kind of interaction the most; when he pretended they had connected. That they had a conversation. When nobody could argue with his illusion they had something in common.
He liked how she had her hair, a bit messy but feminine; the way she looked around dispassionately like she’s had enough of whatever shit she had going on. Like she seemed as if she was a separate entity. Her elbow pointed aside, with some kind of expectation.
Then she gave up. She put on a hoodie she’d thrown onto a first row seat and started walking up slowly. One, two three... four rows... Kai watched her curiously. He never doubted his magic. That’s right, not ever. You know.
But when she passed row nine he tilted his head. She came up to his row and started walking. Now, if she sits right on him, she will feel it. He will, too, and of course he won’t mind, but the girls usually freak out if they try to take a seat somewhere and there’s an invisible dude. Not that Kai had practiced it a lot. He just knew they didn’t like being stalked on. He didn’t really care. He doesn’t know her. If she’s a part of this town, screw her. She’s pretty up close, though, such a nice, frowning face, big eyes. She took the next seat to him and they almost rubbed shoulders. If she took off her earphones she would hear Kai breathe next to her. Instead, he was listening to slow ambient. It went well with the evening sky.
Together, they watched the huskie and the lady run around in the field behind the footbal field. Then she shivered a little in her hoodie. Kai wished he could read her mind when she started crying. When people don’t know they’re being watched, they cry in a very specific fashion. Kai was sure it wasn’t the huskie that upset her; it had something to do with her standing and watching the sky, rubbing her elbows with nervous fingers.
Or maybe she was unhappy with her running time, who gives a fuck.
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You were watching this dude. The Grill did not appreciate him the way they should’ve. First of all, he was different breed. People come and go, but the type is always the same. This one was not the type. You had no idea who he was, but he was damn entertaining. Unapologetic singer. Stretching the notes like nobody was watching. Singing for the soul. He enjoyed himself the harder the more confused people looked, throwing awkward glances in his direction. His self esteem was on point as he expressed the ultimate artistic freedom through his bad singing, skipping the words masterfully and changing the melody on a whim. When the song was finally over, nobody clapped, and you felt that truly, he was the underrated artist, the local gem. Where Mystic Falls citizens cared for how others perceive them, he didn’t give a shit about it; while they side eyed their friends judging him silently, he was glowing with self-satisfaction. He was a bad singer, and a bad dancer; he chose an old song nobody knew, and did the finger guns at the DJ as he left the stage. A collective sigh of relief shuddered over the bar; you leaned over the counter, and the bartender nodded at you.
“Pass a cider to that guy. Tell him he saved my evening”.
Jerry was the name of the bartender. He was the new guy, because almost all bar people at the Grill were always human, which meant they died all the time. They all looked exactly the same though, and Jerry was no different from Evan, from seven years ago. Short dark hair, dimples, could star in American Pie. He smirked and nodded again.
The guy has just landed at the counter with a swing. He sighed happily as Jerry put the glass in front of him. You weren’t watching, because you didn’t feel like it; you made the sincere gesture of friendliness, no need to take it further. However, you should’ve known what would happen next. No good deed ever goes unpunished in this world.
You spotted him with the corner of your eye as he approached you, with the cider you ordered for him, and sat next to you.
“Well, that’s not too bad at all...” he started.
You turned to the guy - who looked rather like a boy who got stuck in his post-teenage phase - sharply.
“Please, don’t take it personal. It was not intended that way. It’s just a drink, so, drink it”.
For a second, he just watched you, as if challenging you for more talking. Then he shrugged.
“Somebody’s feeling antisociable today”.
And sipped a little from the glass.
“I usually take cocktails, the sweeter the better, just so you know”.
You sighed. A part of you knew you would regret it. But you still did it. Why? You looked in front of you, meeting your own miserable face in the reflection of the mirror wall behind the bar. The guy kept talking.
“I mean, it’s so nice to start acquiring the fan base, I guess, you can get a lot of things as a rock star. I’ve always wanted to be one”.
“You won’t be a rock star for your singing voice”, you noted.
Drinking alone at the Grill sometimes made you do weird stuff. But it was a tradition.
“Huh? You didn’t like it?”
“I enjoyed how much it confused everybody else”.
The guy expressed an ‘oof’ emotion.
“I’m sensing some xenophobia here. You hate this place, too?”
You didn’t answer. The guy sighed mockingly, as if he was pretending. He sounded like a hyperactive child, and in spite of your very self, you found him relatable.
“I say to myself every day”, he went on, in a slightly more serious voice, “Kai, today you’re leaving Mystic Falls. I’m not in the place where I can tolerate this boredom any more, you know? But this thing... keeps me here. I can’t wait to...”
You blinked and looked at him.
“Kai? Your name is Kai?”
“Uh, yeah”.
He clincked his glass on yours.
“Cheers”.
“What’s it short for?”
He didn’t look too proud saying,
“Malachai”.
You dropped your jaw.
“That is the coolest name I’ve ever heard. Malachai? Seriously?”
He lit up a little bit, straightening his back with praise.
“Yeah”.
“Dude, this is badass. Show me your ID!”
His dark eyes were laughing. You finally took a proper look of him. There was something foreign about him although he spoke very clear American English. It was a different kind of foreign: alien. Given it’s Mystic Falls, stagnating in its own revolving old routine, alien was good even if it was dangerous.
“You wanna see my ID?” he chuckled. He looked down on you with an adoring glint in his eye as though he was admiring something he saw. His reactions were inexplicable.
“Yeah, I wanna see how it’s spelt. Come on, Malachai, it’s so boring here. Show me”.
He sniffed through his nose.
“Okay”.
He had to stand up a little bit to take his ID from the back pocket of his jeans. You looked at it, visualizing his unusual name. Malachai Parker sounded fucking elite. He’s come a long way from Oregon, too. You wondered what he was doing here and was about to ask, but your glance got hooked on the year of birth.
“1972? You were born in...”
Frustration filled you slowly like lake water. Of course, the only interesting, good-looking character who’s fun enough, will be one of the messy freaks, here. You passed the card back to him.
“Are you one of them?”
Malachai didn’t look confused or insecure which further advanced your disappointment.
“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin, playing with you.
“I’m not having this tonight”.
You downed your glass, feeling earthly tired. Like the earth. The Earth, that’s billion of years old, like that.
You stood up to walk away.
“I’m not one of the vampires”, Kai chanted, turning on his seat.
You shrugged.
“Even worse”.
He watched you as you went, his eyes not leaving your back until you were out of the door. Then he realized he still didn’t have your name.
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grigori77 · 4 years
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Summer 2020′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 2)
10.  BODY CAM – in the face of the current pandemic, viral outbreak cinema has become worryingly prescient lately, but as COVID led to civil unrest there were a couple of films in this summer that REALLY seemed to me to put their finger on the pulse of another particularly shitty zeitgeist.  Admittedly this one highlights a problem that’s been around for a good while, but it came along at just the right time to gain particularly strong resonance, filtering its message into the most reliable form of allegorical social commentary – horror.  The vengeful ghost trope has become pretty familiar over the past decade or so, but by marrying it with the corrupt cop thriller veteran horror screenwriter Nicholas McCarthy (The Pact) has given it a nice fresh spin, and the end result was, for me, a real winner.  Mary J. Blige plays troubled LAPD cop Renee Lomito-Smith, back on the beat after an extended hiatus following a particularly harrowing incident, just as fellow officers from her own precinct begin to die violent deaths under mysterious circumstances, and the only clues are weird, haunting camera footage that only Renee and her new partner, rookie Danny Holledge (Paper Towns and Death Note’s Natt Wolff), manage to see before it inexplicable wipes itself.  Something supernatural is stalking the City of Angels at night, and it’s got a serious grudge against local cops as the increasingly disturbing investigation slowly brings an act of horrific police brutality to light, until Renee no longer knows who in her department she can trust.  This is one of the most insidious scare-fests I’ve enjoyed so far this year, sophomore director Malik Vitthal (Imperial Dreams) weaving an effective atmosphere of pregnant dread and wire-taut suspense while delivering some impressively hair-raising shocks (the stunning minimart sequence is the film’s undeniable highlight), while the ghostly threat is cleverly thought-out and skilfully brought to “life”.  Blige delivers another top-drawer performance, giving Renee a winning combination of wounded fragility and steely resolve that makes for a particularly compelling hero, while Wolff invests Danny with skittish uncertainty and vulnerability in one of his strongest performances to date, and Dexter star David Zayas brings interesting moral complexity to the role of their put-upon superior, Sergeant Kesper.  In these times of heightened social awareness, when the police’s star has become particularly tarnished as unnecessary force, racial profiling and cover-ups have become major hot-button topics, the power and relevance of this particular slice of horror cinema cannot be denied.
9.  BLOOD QUANTUM – it certainly has been a great year for horror, and for most of the summer this was the genre leader, a compellingly fresh take on the zombie outbreak genre with a killer hook.  Canadian writer-director Jeff Barnaby (Rhymes for Young Ghouls) has always clung close to his Native American roots, and he brings strong social relevance to the intriguing early 80s Canadian setting as a really nasty zombie virus wreaks havoc in the Red Crow Indian Reservation and its neighbouring town.  It soon becomes clear, however, that members of the local tribe are immune to the infection, a revelation with far-reaching consequences as the outbreak rages unchecked and society begins to crumble.  Barnaby pulls off some impressive world-building and creates a compellingly grungy post-apocalyptic vibe as the story progresses, while the zombies themselves are a visceral, scuzzy bunch, and there’s plenty of cracking set-pieces and suitably full-blooded kills to keep the gore-hounds happy, while the horror has real intelligence behind it, the script posing interesting questions and delivering some uncomfortable answers.  The characters, meanwhile, are a well-drawn, complex bunch, no black-and-white saviours among them, any one of them capable of some pretty inhuman horrors when the chips are down, and the cast, an interesting mix of seasoned talent and unknowns, all excel in their roles – Michale Greyeyes (Fear the Walking Dead) and Forrest Goodluck (The Revenant) are the closest things the film has to real heroes, the former a fallible everyman as Traylor, the small-town sheriff who’s just trying to do right by his family, the latter unsure of himself as his son, put-upon teenage father-to-be Joseph; meanwhile, Olivia Scriven is tough but vulnerable as his pregnant white girlfriend Charlie, Stonehorse Lone Goeman is a grizzled badass as tough-as-nails tribal elder Gisigu, and Kiowa Gordon (probably best known for playing a werewolf in the Twilight movies) really goes to the dark side as Joseph’s delinquent half-brother Lysol, while there’s a memorably subtle turn from Dead Man’s Gary Farmer as unpredictable loner Moon.  This is definitely one of the year’s darkest films – by and large playing the horror straight, it tightens the screws as the situation grows steadily worse, and almost makes a virtue of wallowing in its hopeless tone – but there’s a fatalistic charm to all the bleakness, even in the downbeat yet tentatively hopeful climax, while it’s hard to deny the ruthless efficiency of the violence on display. This certainly isn’t a horror movie for everyone, but those with a strong stomach and relatively hard heart will find much to enjoy here.  Jeff Barnaby is definitely gonna be one to watch in the future …  
8.  PALM SPRINGS – the summer’s comedy highlight kind of snuck in under the radar, becoming something of an on-demand secret weapon with all the cinemas closed, and it definitely deserves its swiftly growing cult status.  You certainly can’t possibly believe it’s the feature debut of director Max Barbakow, who shows the kind of sharp-witted, steady-handed control of his craft that’s usually the province of far more experienced talents … then again, much of the credit must surely go to seasoned TV comedy writer Andy Siara (Lodge 49), for whom this has been a real labour of love he’s been tending since his film student days.  Certainly all that care, nurture and attention to detail is up there on the screen, the exceptional script singing its irresistible siren song from the start and providing fertile ground for its promising new director to spread his own creative wings.  The premise may be instantly familiar – playing like a latter-day Saturday Night Live take on Groundhog Day (Siara admits it was a major influence), it follows the misadventures of Sarah (How I Met Your Mother’s Cristin Miliota), the black sheep maid of honour at her sweet little sister Tala’s (Riverdale’s Camila Mendes) wedding to seemingly perfect hunk Abe (Supergirl’s Superman, Tyler Hoechlin), as she finds herself repeating the same high-stress day over and over again after being trapped in a mysterious cosmic time-loop along with slacker misanthrope Nyles (Brooklyn Nine Nine megastar Andy Samberg), who’s been stuck in this same situation for MUCH longer – but in Barbakow and Siara’s hands it feels fresh and intriguing, and goes in some surprising new directions before the well-worn central premise can outstay its welcome.  It certainly doesn’t hurt that the cast are uniformly excellent – Miliota is certainly the pounding emotional heart of the film, effortlessly lovable as she flounders against her lot, then learns to accept the unique possibilities it presents, before finally resolving to find a way out, while Samberg has rarely been THIS GOOD, truly endearing in his sardonic apathy as it becomes clear he’s been stuck like this for CENTURIES, and they make an enjoyably fiery couple with snipey chemistry to burn; meanwhile there’s top-notch support from Mendes and Hoechlin, The OC’s Peter Gallagher as Sarah and Tala’s straight-laced father, the ever-reliable Dale Dickey, a thoroughly adorable turn from Jena Freidman and, most notably, a full-blooded scene-stealing performance from the mighty J.K. Simmonds as Roy, Nyles’ nemesis, who he inadvertently trapped in the loop before Sarah and is, understandably, none too happy about it.  This really is an absolute laugh-riot, today’s more post-modern sense of humour allowing the central pair (and their occasional enemy) to indulge in even more extreme consequence-free craziness than Bill Murray ever got away with back in the day, but like all the best comedies there’s also a strong emotional foundation under the humour, leading us to really care about these people and what happens to them, while the story throws moments of true heartfelt power at us, particularly in the deeply cathartic climax.  Ultimately this was one of the summer’s biggest surprises, a solid gold gem that I can’t recommend enough.
7.  THE LAST DAYS OF AMERICAN CRIME – the summer’s other heavyweight Zeitgeist fondler is a deeply satirical chunk of speculative dystopian sci-fi clearly intended as a cinematic indictment of Trump’s broken America, but it became far more potent and prescient in these … ahem … troubled times.  Adapted by screenwriter Karl Gadjusek (Oblivion, Stranger Things, The King’s Man) from the graphic novel by Rick Remender and Greg Tocchini for underrated schlock-action cinema director Olivier Megaton (Transporter 3, Colombiana, the last two Taken films), this Netflix original feature seemed like a fun way to kill a cinema-deprived Saturday night in the middle of the Lockdown, but ultimately proved to have a lot more substance than expected.  It’s powered by an intriguing premise – in a nearly lawless 2024, the US government is one week away from implementing a nationwide synaptic blocker signal called the API (American Peace Initiative) which will prevent the public from being able to commit any kind of crime – and focuses on a strikingly colourful bunch of outlaw antiheroes with an audacious agenda – prodigious Detroit bank robber Bricke (Édgar Ramiréz) is enlisted by Kevin Cash (Funny Games and Hannibal’s Michael Carmen Pitt), a wayward scion of local crime family the Dumois, and his hacker fiancée Shelby Dupree (Material Girl’s Anna Brewster) to pull off what’s destined to be the last great crime in American history, a daring raid on the night of the signal to steal over a billion dollars from the Motor City’s “money factory” and then escape across the border into Canada.  From this deceptively simple premise a sprawling action epic was born, carried along by a razor sharp, twisty script and Megaton’s typically hyperbolic, showy auteur directing style and significant skill at crafting thrillingly explosive set-pieces, while the cast consistently deliver quality performances.  Ramiréz has long been one of those actors I really love to watch, a gruff, quietly intense alpha male whose subtle understatement hides deep reserves of emotional intensity, while Dupree takes a character who could have been a thinly-drawn femme fetale and invests her with strong personal drive and steely resolve, and there’s strong support from Neil Blomkampf regulars Sharlto Copley and Brandon Auret as, respectively, emasculated beat cop Sawyer and brutal Mob enforcer Lonnie French, as well as a nearly unrecognisable Patrick Bergin as local kingpin (and Kevin’s father) Rossi Dumois; the film is roundly stolen, however, by Pitt, a phenomenal actor I’ve always thought we just don’t see enough of, here portraying a spectacularly sleazy, unpredictable force of nature who clearly has his own dark agenda, but whom we ultimately can’t help rooting for even as he stabs us in the back.  This is a cracking film, a dark and dangerous thriller of rare style and compulsive verve that I happily consider to be Megaton’s best film to date BY FAR – needless to say it was a major hit for Netflix when it dropped, clearly resonating with its audience given what’s STILL going on in the real world, and while it may have been roundly panned in reviews I think, like some of the platform’s other more glossy Original hits (Bright springs to mind), it’s destined for a major critical reappraisal and inevitable cult status before too long …
6.  HAMILTON – arriving just as Black Lives Matter reached fever-pitch levels, this feature presentation of the runaway Broadway musical smash-hit could not have been better timed.  Shot over three nights during the show’s 2016 run with the original cast and cut together with specially created “setup shots”, it’s an immersive experience that at once puts you right in amongst the audience (at times almost a character themselves, never seen but DEFINITELY heard) but also lets you experience the action up close.  And what action – it’s an incredible show, a thoroughly fascinating piece of work that reads like something very staid and proper on paper (an all-encompassing biographical account of the life and times of American Founding Father Alexander Hamilton) but, in execution, becomes something very different and EXTREMELY vital.  The execution certainly couldn’t be further from the usual period biopic fare this kind of historical subject matter usually gets (although in the face of recent top-notch revisionist takes like Marie Antoinette, The Great and Tesla it’s not SO surprising), while the cast is not at all what you’d expect – with very few notable exceptions the cast is almost entirely people of colour, despite the fact that the real life individuals they’re playing were all very white indeed.  That said, every single one of them is an absolute revelation – the show’s writer-composer Lin-Manuel Miranda (already riding high on the success of In the Heights) carries the central role of Hamilton with effortless charm and raw star power, Leslie Odom Jr. (Smash, Murder On the Orient Express) is duplicitously complex as his constant nemesis Aaron Burr, Christopher Jackson (In the Heights, Moana, Bull) oozes integrity and nobility as his mentor and friend George Washington, Phillipa Soo is sweet and classy as his wife Eliza while Renée Elise Goldsberry (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Jacks, Altered Carbon) is fiery and statuesque as her sister Angelica Schuyler (the one who got away), and Jonathan Groff (Mindhunter) consistently steals every scene he’s in as fiendish yet childish fan favourite King George III; ultimately, however, the show (and the film) belongs to veritable powerhouse Daveed Diggs (Blindspotting, TV’s Snowpiercer) in a spectacular duel role, starting subtly but gaining scene-stealing momentum as French Revolutionary Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette, before EXPLODING onto the stage in the second half as indomitable eventual American President Thomas Jefferson.  Not having seen the stage show, I was taken completely by surprise by this, revelling in its revisionist genius and offbeat, quirky hip-hop charm, spellbound by the skilful ease with which is takes the sometimes quite dull historical fact and skews it into something consistently entertaining and absorbing, transported by the catchy earworm musical numbers and thoroughly tickled by the delightfully cheeky sense of humour strung throughout (at least when I wasn’t having my heart broken by moments of raw dramatic power). Altogether it’s a pretty unique cinematic experience I wish I could have actually gotten to see on the big screen, and one I’ve consistently recommended to all my friends, even the ones who don’t usually like musicals.  As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t need a proper Les Misérables style screen adaptation – this is about as perfect a presentation as the show could possibly hope for.
5.  SPUTNIK – the summer’s horror highlight (despite SERIOUSLY tough competition) is a guaranteed sleeper hit that I almost totally missed, stumbling across the trailer one day on YouTube and being completely bowled over by its potential, prompting me to hunt it down by any means necessary.  The feature debut of Russian director Egor Abramenko, this first contact sci-fi chiller is about as far from E.T. as it’s possible to get, sharing some of the same DNA as Carpenter’s The Thing but proudly carving its own path with consummate skill and definitely signalling great things to come from its brand new helmer and relative unknown screenwriters Oleg Malovichko and Andrei Zolotarev.  Oksana Akinshina (probably best known in the West for her powerful climactic cameo in The Bourne Supremacy) is the beating heart of the film as neurophysiologist Tatyana Yuryevna Klimova, brought in to aid in the investigation in the Russian wilderness circa 1983 after an orbital research mission goes horribly wrong.  One of the cosmonauts dies horribly, while the other, Konstantin (The Duelist’s Pyotr Fyodorov) seems unharmed, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s now playing host to something decidedly extraterrestrial and potentially terrifying, and as Tatyana becomes more deeply embroiled in her assignment she comes to realise that her superiors, particularly mysterious Red Army project leader Colonel Semiradov (The PyraMMMid’s Fyodor Bondarchuk), have far darker plans for Konstantin and his new “friend” than she could ever imagine.  This is about as dark, intense and nightmarish as this particular sub-genre gets, a magnificently icky body horror that slowly builds its tension as we’re gradually exposed to the various truths and the awful gravity of the situation slowly reveals itself, punctuated by skilfully executed shocks and some particularly horrifying moments when the evils inflicted by the humans in charge prove to be far worse than anything the alien can do, while the ridiculously talented writers have a field day pulling the rug out from under us again and again, never going for the obvious twist and keeping us guessing right to the devastating ending, while the beautifully crafted digital creature effects are nothing short of astonishing and thoroughly creepy.  Akinshina dominates the film with her unbridled grace, vulnerability and integrity, the relationship that develops between Tatyana and Konstantin (Fyodorov delivering a beautifully understated turn belying deep inner turmoil) feeling realistically earned as it goes from tentatively wary to ultimately, tragically bittersweet, while Bondarchuk invests the Colonel with a subtly nuanced air of tarnished authority and restrained brutality that makes him one of my top screen villains for the year.  Guaranteed to go down as one of 2020’s great sleeper hits, I can’t speak of this film highly enough – it’s a genuine revelation, an instant classic for whom I’ll sing its praises for the remainder of the year and beyond, and I wish utmost success to all the creative talents involved in the future.  The Invisible Man still rules the roost in the year’s horror stakes, but this runs a VERY close second …
4.  GREYHOUND – when the cinemas closed back in March, the fate of many of the major summer blockbusters we’d been looking forward to was thrown into terrible doubt. Some were pushed back to more amenable dates in the autumn or winter, others knocked back a whole year to fill summer slots for 2021, but more than a few simply dropped off the radar entirely with the terrible words “postponed until further notice” stamped on them, and I lamented them all, this one in particular.  It hung in there longer than some, stubbornly holding onto its June release slot for as long as possible, but eventually it gave up the ghost too … but thanks to Apple TV+, not for long, ultimately releasing less than a month later than intended.  Thankfully the final film was worth the fuss, a taut World War II suspense thriller that’s all killer, no filler – set during the infamous Battle of the Atlantic, it portrays the constant life-or-death struggle faced by the Allied warships assigned to escort the transport convoys as they crossed the ocean, defending their charges from German U-boats.  Adapted from C.S. Forester’s famous 1955 novel The Good Shepherd by Tom Hanks and directed by Aaron Schneider (Get Low), the narrative focuses on the crew of the escort leader, American destroyer USS Fletcher, codenamed Greyhound, and in particular its captain, Commander Ernest Krause (Hanks), a career sailor serving his first command.  As they cross “the Pit”, the most dangerous mid stretch of the journey where they spend days without air-cover, they find themselves shadowed by “the Wolf Pack”, a particularly cunning group of German subs that begin to pick away at the convoy’s stragglers.  Faced with daunting odds, a dwindling supply of vital depth-charges and a ruthless, persistent enemy, Krause must make hard choices to bring his ships home safe … jumping into the thick of the action within the first ten minutes and maintaining that tension for the remainder of its trim 90-minute run, this is screen suspense par excellence, a sleek textbook example of how to craft a compelling big screen knuckle-whitener with zero fat and maximum reward, delivering a series of desperate naval scraps packed with hide-and-seek intensity, heart-in-mouth near-misses and fist-in-air cathartic payoffs by the bucket-load.  Hanks is subtly magnificent, the calm centre of the narrative storm as a supposed newcomer to this battle arena who could have been BORN for it, bringing to mind the similarly unflappable turn he delivered in Captain Phillips and certainly not suffering by comparison; by and large he’s the focus point, but other crew members do make strong (if sometimes quite brief) impressions, particularly Stephen Graham as Krause’s reliably seasoned XO, Lt. Commander Charlie Cole, The Magnificent Seven’s Manuel Garcia-Rulfo and Just Mercy’s Rob Morgan, while Elisabeth Shue does a lot with a very small part in brief flashbacks as Krause’s fiancée Evelyn.  Relentless, powerful, exhilarating and thoroughly unforgettable, this was one of the true action highlights of the summer, and one hell of a war flick.  I’m so glad it made the cut for the season …
3.  PROJECT POWER – with Marvel and DC pushing their tent-pole titles back into late autumn in the face of COVID, the usual superhero antics we’ve come to expect over the main blockbuster season were pretty thin on the ground, leading us to find our geeky fan thrills elsewhere.  Unfortunately, pickings were frustratingly slim – Korean comic book actioner Gundala was entertaining but workmanlike, while Thor AU-take Mortal was underwhelming despite strong direction from Troll Hunter’s André Øvredal, and I’ve already made my feelings clear on the frustration of The New Mutants – thank the Gods, then, for Netflix, once again riding to the rescue with this enjoyably offbeat super-thriller, which takes an intriguing central premise and really runs with it.  New designer drug Power has hit the streets of New Orleans, able to give anyone who takes it a superpower for five minutes … the only problem is, until you try it, you won’t know what your own unique talent is – for some, it could mean five minutes of invisibility, or insane levels of super-strength, but other powers can be potentially lethal, the really unlucky buggers just blowing up on the spot.  Robin (The Hate U Give’s Dominique Fishback) is a teenage Power-pusher with dreams of becoming a rap star, dealing the pills so she can help her diabetic mum; Frank Shaver (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is one of her customers, an NOPD detective who uses his power of near invulnerability to even the playing field when powered crims cause a disturbance.  Their lives are turned upside down when Art (Jamie Foxx) arrives in town – he’s a seriously badass ex-soldier determined to hunt down the source of Power by any means necessary, and he’s not above tearing the Big Easy apart to do it.  This is a fun, gleefully infectious  rollercoaster that doesn’t take itself too seriously, revelling in the anarchic potential of its premise and crafting some suitably OTT effects-driven chaos brought to pleasingly visceral fruition by its skilfully inventive director, Ariel Schulman (Catfish, Nerve, Viral), while Mattson Tomlin (the screenwriter of next year’s incendiary DCEU headline act The Batman) takes his script in some very interesting directions and poses some fascinating questions about what Power’s TRULY capable of.  Gordon-Levitt and Fishback are both brilliant, the latter particularly impressing in what’s sure to be a major breakthrough role for her, and the friendship their characters share is pretty adorable, while Foxx really is a force to be reckoned with, pretty chill even when he’s in deep shit but fully capable of turning into a bona fide killing machine at the flip of a switch, and there’s strong support from Westworld’s Rodrigo Santoro as Biggie, Power’s delightfully oily kingpin, Courtney B. Vance as Frank’s by-the-book superior, Captain Crane, Amy Landecker as Gardner, the morally bankrupt CIA spook responsible for the drug’s production, and Machine Gun Kelly as Newt, a Power dealer whose explosive pyrotechnic “gift” really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Exciting, inventive, frequently amusing and infectiously likeable, this was some of the most uncomplicated “cinematic” fun I had this summer.  Not bad for something which I’m sure was originally destined to become one of the season’s B-list features …
2.  THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’s undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular title with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping good ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in this thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered.  Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan.  The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here.  Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’. They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story. Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large. After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …
1.  TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly did save our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that the season’s ultimate top-spot winner was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN.  You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with.  I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night out big screen EXPERIENCE since March.  Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT.  Still with us?  Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who may be the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s HImesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine.  The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even without that amazing new teaser trailer making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic.  As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual masterpiece and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in some seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital.  The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some truly mesmerising visuals.  Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he has good reason, currently working on his dream project, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his regular collaborations with Ryan Coogler on the likes of Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as truly awesome work on The Mandalorian) makes for a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence as a film this is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven.  As a piece of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that really HAS TO BE experienced on the big screen.  So put your snobbery at post-lockdown restrictions aside for the moment and get yourself down to your nearest cinema so you can experience it for yourself.  You won’t be disappointed.  Right now, this is my movie of the year, and with only one possible exception, I really don’t see that changing …
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collusioncomics · 6 years
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Collusion Underworld
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Happy Halloween, Collusionoids!  I’ve had this entry floating around for a while, but with the shift towards villains this month I figured Halloween weekend would be the perfect time to drop some vampires into the mix!  Enjoy!
Evil things lurk in the dark corners of the world and the hearts of man kind.  Blood thirsty fiends and unholy ghouls prey on the weak to fill their ranks with more cold bodies.  After a long period of decline for the vampire race, [Dracula/The Mandarin] has chosen the 21st century to be the era of the vampire’s return as his millennia old conquest of mankind reaches a crescendo.  Wielding his dark cybernetic signet rings, [Dracula/Mandarin]'s legion of followers spread his influence throughout the business world of men.  His new war for the immortal soul of mankind is one fought in board rooms and on factory floors and in legislators’ pockets rather than on the field of battle.
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Over the centuries [Dracula/Mandarin] has acquired a number of adversaries, chief among them, [I Ching/Quincy Harker], a taoist mystic and martial arts master, the inheritor to a family legacy of knowledge and techniques, responsible for training multiple generations of vampire hunters in China, and as of late the world at large.  He is himself astonishingly and arguably inhumanly long lived, but is fast approaching the end of his life and has grown desperate to oversee the end of the vampire menace in his lifetime.  Among his star pupils are...
[Jonah Hex/Blade], an American gunslinger that he met while pursuing [Dracula/Mandarin]’s legions across the Pacific hidden among the immigrant railroad workers.  [Hex/Blade] was born of a woman turned by [Dracula/Mandarin] himself while she was pregnant.  He was rescued by [I Ching/Harker] during a raid on a vampire nest before he could himself be either turned or killed.  His mother is believed to have been one of the surviving vampires to escape the slaughter.  As a rebellious teenager he parted ways with his mentor, unsatisfied with the pace of their crusade against the vampires.  He would strike out on his own as a bounty hunter and exterminator of vampires across the continental US.  Despite occasional efforts to work together during the wild est era, the two would eventually stay apart for nearly a century before being reunited in [I Ching/Harker]’s final crusade.
[Rip Hunter/Hannibal King] a vampire hunter from the far flung future, who sought out the legendary mentor to learn secrets lost to his future world.  In his quest to undo the vampire ruled dystopia that he was born in, he seeks the sire vampire lords responsible for the conquerors of his future, not to vanquish them but to subtly alter their histories.  At risk of erasing his reality entirely, [Hunter/King] pinpoints pivotal moments in each vampire’s history to weaken their footholds in the war against mankind, so that every subsequent effort grows weaker and weaker, maintaining the basic outline of events that make his reality, while nudging every outcome in the favor of mankind; each defeat being less and less catastrophic, every survivor left to grow ever stronger, until his resistance in the future can topple their vampire oppressors.
[Dr.Light/Dr.Sun]: In order to develop a cure for vampirism to liberate the people of his homeland, and cure his own vampirism, [Dr.Light/Dr.Sun] would flee to America to conduct his experiments outside the reach of [Dracula/Mandarin]’s influence.  Unfortunately many of his experiments would prove less than ethical or humane, and eventually he would become so desperate that he would begin turning innocent people into vampires just to continue his experiments without risking hunting active vampires or drawing his nemesis’ attention.  Of his various test subjects, the one who would prove one of the most successful and loyal would be...
[Dr. Phosphorus/Lucas Brand], an assistant originally sent to spy on [Dr.Light/Dr.Sun] under the pretense of industrial espionage as an agent of [Dracula/Mandarin].  He was however entirely unaware of his benefactor’s true nature and so tragically unaware of what was happening when [Dr.Light/Dr.Sun] discovered his deception and resolved to use him as his next subject.  When the process was complete, [Phosphorus/Brand] had been turned and physiologically altered to do away with his vampiric weakness to daylight.  By consequence however his body’s physical resistance but unholy weakness to the sun would cause his skin to produce a layer of intense ultraviolet light and thermal radiation upon contact with sunlight.  With prolonged exposure the effect increases in intensity, and with practice and use of some chemical suppressants he would learn to store limited amounts of energy, allowing him to activate the effect on command and outside of direct sunlight.  The energy coat itself mimics sunlight, making him a walking beacon of death to vampires while active.  
In the modern day, [Dracula/Mandarin] is worshiped as the era’s sire to all vampires, and the primary antagonist of all vampire hunters, but behind him is a long legacy...
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[Per Degaton/Varnae] long hidden in shadow was and is the oldest vampire in existence, and perhaps the first.  He once led the Mongols to invade China, and it was against the threat of the vampire hoards that the Great Wall was erected.  It was under [Per Degaton/Varnae]’s reign that the age of exploration saw vampires stretch across every corner of the globe and establish their first global network.  And although he has remained an enigmatic figure throughout modern history he will one day return to prominence in the distant future.
In these long distant days across history, before the rise of the super hero, [Vandal Savage/Kraven the Hunter] once deemed vampires to be the ultimate game.  It was [Vandal/Kraven] who led the first decline of the vampire race.  Although he has since turned his attentions away from the vampire legions, even as they grow in number, he does regard [Per Degaton/Varnae] to be a worthy prey and laments his escape.  In those rare dire moments where [Per Degaton/Varnae] is forced into the open and must confront his enemies himself, you can be sure [Vandal/Kraven] will have allied himself with them, only to get a last stab at the prey that escaped.
Eventually his immature primordial self would be the target of [Hunter/King], an encounter he survive, and remain mindful of for the rest of his millennia long lifespan. 
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Before the 13th century silk trade facilitated [Dracula/Mandarin]’s expansion into Europe and heralded in his dark global empire, the most prominent lords of the classical western world had been the feuding lovers, [Cain, Sire of All Vampires/Victoria Montesi] & [Mary, Queen of Blood/Typhoid Mary].  Conjured by dark magic, [Cain/Victoria] was brought into the world believing to be a normal human being.  It was her dark nature that drew [Mary/Mary] to her while leaving her incorruptible.  But her innate darkness spread thru her lover, giving birth to a new breed of vampire.  These new thrall not only felt the cold touch of death, bottomless hunger, and soulless pain of the undead, they heard the whispers and saw visions of a greater and otherwordly evil.  In truth, [Cain/Victoria] was the vessel of a much higher power, one that wrought madness into the world with every human thought that so much as grazed the form of its abstract reality.  In time this madness drove a wedge between the two and even fractured [Mary/Mary]’s psyche.  The two would wage war with their children for generations until the two forces would come to conspire against their mothers.  But with their unfathomable powers amplified by dark and unholy power, all that could be done to stop them was to wipe their memories and separate the two to keep from rekindling either passion or fury.
In the present, [Mary/Mary] remains dormant in the guise of a human woman, with her memories and her vampirism each magically compartmentalized in their own personae.  [Cain/Victoria] remains similarly dormant, but the dark voice of her creator has remained ever present and unrestrained over the centuries.  While she herself, as an artificially conjured human, is immune to his maddening whispers, she has left an nigh imperceptible trail of lunacy in her wake.  Both go about their new lives, latest iterations in a long line of past lives they’ve lived until obscure vampire cults seek the two out in order to bring about a vampire renaissance and revive their deranged legion, and the two find themselves again bidden to war with one another, even as they struggle to understand why or who they even are/were.
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There are of course countless other vampires active across the Collusion universe, both under direct command and independent of notable vampire lords with grand schemes; There are dhampir and reformers fighting their brethren and sires; But in a world familiar with the long history of vampires, however shrouded in myth, there are also pretenders and pseudo vampires operating under the umbrella of vampire activity.
One such imposture is [Maxi Zeus/Dracula], The Impaler.  Once the CEO of a major book publisher, he suffered a psychotic break after an encounter with a real vampire.  He was not actually turned, nor was he the target of the vampire that attacked him, but the resulting psychotic break convinced him that he is the resurrected form of the historical Vlad Tepes Dracula.  As such he resumes the fictional Dracula’s conquest of the western world via business acquisition and criminal dealings, while also masquerading under his vampire guise at night; stalking, murdering, and draining the blood of his victims.
Another super villain (and occasional anti-hero) oft mistaken for a vampire by terrified onlookers is [Killer Croc/Morbius], Max Murnau.  The subject of an experiment to cure him of a rare degenerative disease using crocodile DNA.  The perpetual growth of a crocodile outpaced but failed to stop the degeneration, and with it came an insatiable hunger.  As such [Killer Croc/Morbius] periodically “sheds” dying flesh from his now abnormally large form, and must regularly feed on organic matter to fuel his continual healing and growth.  Because of his outer layer of necrotic flesh, prominent fangs, and bloodthirsty disposition he is sometimes called The Orlok.
This was supposed to just be a “[Jonah Hex/Blade] & Friends” sorta deal back in the very first draft, but got way out of hand.  I actually had to dial back a lot of extra entries in this just to keep it semi-reasonable in length and flow.  There are quite a lot of vampires running around between the two companies and considering our pretense of avoiding redundancies, what was going to be a tiny niche corner of the Collusion universe very quickly leaked into larger events and continuities once vampire characters start merging with the general company wide population of heroes and villains.  Looker, Scream Queen, Jubilee, the Barons Blood, Nocturna, The Mad Monk, Raizo Kodo, La Sangre, Nightrider, Carnivore, Nosferata, are just some of the characters we’d batted around (hurr hurr) before realizing just how bloated the tiny vampire corner of the world was getting.  Likely, many will likely pop up in later entries as adversaries or allies to more pillar characters, but for now a shroud of obscurity hangs over them...
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trendingnewsb · 6 years
Text
5 WTF Ways Trump Has Been Immortalized As Artwork
It wasn’t his knowledge of policy, his charm, or anything remotely leadership-like that led to the popularity of Donald Trump. If anything, it was the ease and willingness with which he turned himself into a walking meme, complete with a fandom busy creating fanfiction, fan theories (i.e. insane conspiracy theories), and, of course, tons of bad fan art. Here are some of the weirdest and wildest pieces in the current Trumpian art movement for you to absorb before they find their way into the National Portrait Gallery.
5
Deep Dream Trump Is Pure Nightmare Fuel
While computers are getting better at everything that makes humans so special (like opening doors), there is one area where we’ll always have them beat: abstract thought. After all, it’s hard to have a sense of whimsy when a misplaced semicolon can turn you into scrap. In fact, the closest we’ve gotten to giving computers a world of pure imagination is through “deep learning” — software that mimics how our neutrons fire and is perhaps the future of artificial intelligence. And like any good humans, we gave computers the gift of creativity, only to squander it on monstrosities like this:
Chris RodleyThat’s why you don’t share a teleporter with Muppets.
This is a deep learning interpretation of one of Donald Trump’s family photos. And if you’re wondering why Melania looks like Miss Piggy on her way to her third divorce, that’s on purpose. This art is the result of artist Chris Rodley plugging pictures of Donald Trump into a deep learning algorithm which was also “looking for images from Sesame Street.” The result is this hellscape of vacant expressions, googly eyes, and wandering hands — plus elements from Sesame Street.
Chris RodleyCourtesy of Industrial Light and Horror.
It could be a lot worse, though. You could be looking at a video of Trump transformed into an awakened eldritch horror struggling against the confines of our universe:
youtube
Though on the plus side, Trump’s hair has never looked more in its element.
Eric Cheng/YouTubeOh, like you’ve never had a wookiee sex dream.
This nightmare fuel was brought into our world by Eric Cheng, who said he created it by plugging a video of a Trump speech into a deep learning algorithm that was simultaneously thinking about Cthulhu. The level of Cthulhu influence was governed by the volume at which Trump was speaking. We’re lucky that it was one of his quieter rants. If it had been about minorities or women, that video might have accidentally opened a wormhole into the domain of the Elder Ones.
4
All Hail God-Emperor Trump!
To a lot of internet manbabies, Trump is the ultimate badass. He’s an ass-kicker and a risk-taker, a street fighter and shot-caller, the guy who puts the Big Mac into Mack Daddy. Of course, in order to maintain that view of Trump, you have to constantly ignore all of reality. Fortunately, the internet boys have found a way to easily block out the pesky truth by replacing it with hardcore sci-fi fan fiction!
Meet God-Emperor Trump, may his clogged arteries reign for eternity. Based on the lore of the popular tabletop gaming universe Warhammer 40,000, which is set in a ludicrously dystopian future, the cruddy side of the internet is filled with images of Trump as the iconic Emperor of Mankind, immortal ruler of the human empire bringing his never-ending war to the undesirables. Feels like satire, right? It isn’t.
via The Flama
via The FlamaHis armor appears to be made from the Ark of the Covenant, which is appropriate, since it makes us want to melt our faces off.
Sure, it’s pretty weird to pick an awesome god of war as the avatar for a dude who used alleged bone spurs as an excuse to get out of military duty, but that’s where the total disillusion comes in.
via r/Warhammer40k
Robokoboto/Art AbyssCarrying the skulls of his own supporters doesn’t seem ominous at all.
Read Next
Teach Kids The Alphabet With These Medieval Death Prints
But the comparison isn’t flattering for either side. Showing again that they have the cultural insight of someone who’s been in a coma since the ’60s, Trump fanboys seem to not realize that this Emperor of Mankind is nothing more than a freakish ghoul whose “shattered, decaying body can no longer support life,” or that his rule gave rise to “technological and cultural stagnation, and a regression into tyranny, superstition and religious obfuscation and intolerance.” So God-Emperor Trump is based on some creep who rules over a dystopia in which mindless, alien-hating fanatics sacrifice thousands daily to keep the bloated corpse of their despot ruler going. Maybe they did do their research after all.
And to put the cherry on the dumb neo-Nazi cake, the God-Emperor isn’t, uhm … white. He was born in central Anatolia (Turkey) in 8,000 BC. Meaning the web fascists have turned their white supremacy hero into a space-age Middle Eastern king.
Warhammer 40kOh yeah, this guy is totes going to preserve the white race, you dolts.
3
The New “Alt-Right” Cartoon Mascot Loves Dressing Up As Trump
You already know about Pepe, the lovable comic book frog who became a hate symbol. But since Pepe has gotten too mainstream, hardcore “alt-right” dudes have created a perfect mascot for the new Trump age: a poorly drawn copyright infringement.
via Will Sommer/Medium“Racist Frog, Reclining Nude”
This corpulent little shit-grinner is Groyper. No, that’s not a Trump-inspired new Pokemon (although we understand the confusion). We’re talking about Groyper the Frog, the MS Paint cartoon mascot for hardcore politicos. He even comes in many adorable outfits for fans to play dress-up with (dog whistle sold separately). There’s Papa John Groyper:
via Slate“These boxes actually contain Hungry Howie’s.”
Hulk Hogan Groyper:
via Will Sommer/Medium
Even a special edition “Are you offended yet?” Burka Groyper:
via SlateDon’t try to make sense of it. That way madness lies.
But among the favorite flavors of Groyper stands Trump Groyper, somehow looking less slimy as a lumpy frog:
via Will Sommer/MediumAnd the fake hair on the fake Trump-toad looks less ridiculous than the real hair on the real Trump-golem.
So if you’re wondering why all the worst accounts on Twitter switched up their avatars to this, that’s why. It’s definitely not because Matt Furie, the creator of Pepe, has started suing the white laces off of any popular enough site for copyright infringement. No, it’s because Pepe isn’t cool enough anymore. Not like Groyper, who’s too cool for school — art school, specifically.
Donald Trump/Twitter
2
The Anti-Obama Oil Painter Now Thinks Trump Is The New Messiah
Jon McNaughton is possibly one of history’s greatest artists. Not because he created anything breathtaking or profound or thought-provoking, mind, but because his works are some of the goddamn funniest examples of religious right-wing bathos.
Jon McNaughtonFirst and foremost, why would you plant a tree three feet in front a place where people will be sitting?
This lovely painting, titled You Are Not Forgotten, features Herr Conditioner and proves that you can’t make Trump look warm and charming even if you draw him yourself. But the real beauty of McNaughton’s art lies in the fact that he’s just a really, really hacky political cartoonist with a better brush stroke game. He often boasts about the number of “symbols” he manages to stuff into a single canvas. Here, the theme is unity. That’s why a not-that-keen eye can will spot that Everyman Trump is looming over a working-class family (whom he’s screwed) as they plant a flower (which he’s going to kill) in front of a crowd of veterans and soldiers (whom he dishonors), disabled people (whom he doesn’t care about), black people (whom he doesn’t like), various cabinet members (whom he’s fired), police officers (whom he’s insulted), and laborers (whom he doesn’t pay).
But McNaughton didn’t make his name by trimming half a dozen inches off of Trump’s waist. He became a conservative darling by taking dumps on President Obama for a solid eight years. Here’s his interpretation of Obama’s domestic policy:
Jon McNaughtonDid you notice the 9/11 symbolism? The thing that happened seven years before Obama was president, when a Republican was in office?
His foreign policy:
Jon McNaughtonTo be fair, Los Alamos does have a really nice golf course.
His stance on Obamacare:
Jon McNaughtonThere goes the plot for National Treasure 3.
And here again is that classic, featuring Obama trampling over the rights of the very same working man who Trump will later save while all the good Republican presidents are yelling at him:
Jon McNaughton“But I wanted to plant a tree there …”
Man, Obama really seems like a dick in these portraits. We’re surprised that the nuclear blast didn’t affect his golf swing, or that he escaped unharmed after dipping the Constitution in napalm and setting it alight in his hand, although that’s to be expected when you’re Literally Satan. His abilities are truly unending, as is his cruelty … as demonstrated by that time he forced a soldier to eat a slice of a gay wedding cake.
Jon McNaughton“It’s not even ice cream cake. Thanks, Obama.”
Save us, President Trump! Save us from that treacherous black sn- oh, you already have.
Jon McNaughtonThere is an extremely famous flag advising against this very thing!
1
Barron Trump, Manga Star
While Trump himself has a very divisive sort of popularity, the same can’t be said about the Trump children — Ivanka, Donnie Jr., and the one who looks like a hardboiled egg with a face drawn on it. His spawn are nigh-universally ridiculed, constantly putting their feet in those mouths they can’t ever seem to fully close. But one Trump kid is exempt from this ridicule: Barron, the unassuming, sweet-looking 12-year-old who actually has to live in the White House with his mom and dad. Making fun of a kid is not the nicest thing to do, so two sensitive artists have gone the other direction, trying to delve into the mind of this quiet boy and figuring out the turmoil he must feel from having the most powerful terrible father in the whole world — in fabulous manga form, natch.
Yuusuke Hori“At least it’s not a racist amphibian.”
This very melodramatic piece was posted by artist Yuusuke Hori right after Trump’s inauguration. It shows Barron in sparkly bishonen form with a title that reads “My loud, annoying dad is president, so the quiet unassuming life I wanted is completely over.” It was only meant as a silly mockup cover, but because it got insanely popular, we eventually got the for-realsies The Adventures Of Barron And His Loud-Mouthed President Father, and it’s everything we’ve ever wanted.
Joy LingWell, except for Trump not to be president, but still.
To all the non-otaku out there, TAOBAHLMPF (created by Brooklyn-based artist Joy Ling) sees Barron, who really just wants to “watch Netflix and play Pokemon,” teaming with Sasha and Malia Obama to solve the puzzle surrounding a “mysterious anomaly” that appeared after his father took office — which is not a polite way to refer to Kellyanne Conway. We don’t want to give away too many spoilers, but one of the central conflicts revolves around Barron trying to persuade his father to help put things right. Oh, that’s right, Donald Jerwillickers Trump makes an appearance, or at least the DJT from the universe where he doesn’t believe that exercise is a liberal plot to sap his precious bodily fluids.
Joy Ling“Please don’t tell me which flui-“ “Semen.”
Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook, and has a newsletter about depressing history that you should definitely subscribe to.
Art is great for letting some of the tension out, in case that’s a thing you need to do in this day and age, so maybe pick up some Bob Ross oil paints?
Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.
For more, check out 8 Hilariously Offensive Artworks Featuring Famous Presidents and 5 Unsettling Sub-Genres Of Fan Art Lurking On The Internet.
Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere.
Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_25547_5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork.html
from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2LbRvyT via Viral News HQ
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trendingnewsb · 6 years
Text
5 WTF Ways Trump Has Been Immortalized As Artwork
It wasn’t his knowledge of policy, his charm, or anything remotely leadership-like that led to the popularity of Donald Trump. If anything, it was the ease and willingness with which he turned himself into a walking meme, complete with a fandom busy creating fanfiction, fan theories (i.e. insane conspiracy theories), and, of course, tons of bad fan art. Here are some of the weirdest and wildest pieces in the current Trumpian art movement for you to absorb before they find their way into the National Portrait Gallery.
5
Deep Dream Trump Is Pure Nightmare Fuel
While computers are getting better at everything that makes humans so special (like opening doors), there is one area where we’ll always have them beat: abstract thought. After all, it’s hard to have a sense of whimsy when a misplaced semicolon can turn you into scrap. In fact, the closest we’ve gotten to giving computers a world of pure imagination is through “deep learning” — software that mimics how our neutrons fire and is perhaps the future of artificial intelligence. And like any good humans, we gave computers the gift of creativity, only to squander it on monstrosities like this:
Chris RodleyThat’s why you don’t share a teleporter with Muppets.
This is a deep learning interpretation of one of Donald Trump’s family photos. And if you’re wondering why Melania looks like Miss Piggy on her way to her third divorce, that’s on purpose. This art is the result of artist Chris Rodley plugging pictures of Donald Trump into a deep learning algorithm which was also “looking for images from Sesame Street.” The result is this hellscape of vacant expressions, googly eyes, and wandering hands — plus elements from Sesame Street.
Chris RodleyCourtesy of Industrial Light and Horror.
It could be a lot worse, though. You could be looking at a video of Trump transformed into an awakened eldritch horror struggling against the confines of our universe:
youtube
Though on the plus side, Trump’s hair has never looked more in its element.
Eric Cheng/YouTubeOh, like you’ve never had a wookiee sex dream.
This nightmare fuel was brought into our world by Eric Cheng, who said he created it by plugging a video of a Trump speech into a deep learning algorithm that was simultaneously thinking about Cthulhu. The level of Cthulhu influence was governed by the volume at which Trump was speaking. We’re lucky that it was one of his quieter rants. If it had been about minorities or women, that video might have accidentally opened a wormhole into the domain of the Elder Ones.
4
All Hail God-Emperor Trump!
To a lot of internet manbabies, Trump is the ultimate badass. He’s an ass-kicker and a risk-taker, a street fighter and shot-caller, the guy who puts the Big Mac into Mack Daddy. Of course, in order to maintain that view of Trump, you have to constantly ignore all of reality. Fortunately, the internet boys have found a way to easily block out the pesky truth by replacing it with hardcore sci-fi fan fiction!
Meet God-Emperor Trump, may his clogged arteries reign for eternity. Based on the lore of the popular tabletop gaming universe Warhammer 40,000, which is set in a ludicrously dystopian future, the cruddy side of the internet is filled with images of Trump as the iconic Emperor of Mankind, immortal ruler of the human empire bringing his never-ending war to the undesirables. Feels like satire, right? It isn’t.
via The Flama
via The FlamaHis armor appears to be made from the Ark of the Covenant, which is appropriate, since it makes us want to melt our faces off.
Sure, it’s pretty weird to pick an awesome god of war as the avatar for a dude who used alleged bone spurs as an excuse to get out of military duty, but that’s where the total disillusion comes in.
via r/Warhammer40k
Robokoboto/Art AbyssCarrying the skulls of his own supporters doesn’t seem ominous at all.
Read Next
Teach Kids The Alphabet With These Medieval Death Prints
But the comparison isn’t flattering for either side. Showing again that they have the cultural insight of someone who’s been in a coma since the ’60s, Trump fanboys seem to not realize that this Emperor of Mankind is nothing more than a freakish ghoul whose “shattered, decaying body can no longer support life,” or that his rule gave rise to “technological and cultural stagnation, and a regression into tyranny, superstition and religious obfuscation and intolerance.” So God-Emperor Trump is based on some creep who rules over a dystopia in which mindless, alien-hating fanatics sacrifice thousands daily to keep the bloated corpse of their despot ruler going. Maybe they did do their research after all.
And to put the cherry on the dumb neo-Nazi cake, the God-Emperor isn’t, uhm … white. He was born in central Anatolia (Turkey) in 8,000 BC. Meaning the web fascists have turned their white supremacy hero into a space-age Middle Eastern king.
Warhammer 40kOh yeah, this guy is totes going to preserve the white race, you dolts.
3
The New “Alt-Right” Cartoon Mascot Loves Dressing Up As Trump
You already know about Pepe, the lovable comic book frog who became a hate symbol. But since Pepe has gotten too mainstream, hardcore “alt-right” dudes have created a perfect mascot for the new Trump age: a poorly drawn copyright infringement.
via Will Sommer/Medium“Racist Frog, Reclining Nude”
This corpulent little shit-grinner is Groyper. No, that’s not a Trump-inspired new Pokemon (although we understand the confusion). We’re talking about Groyper the Frog, the MS Paint cartoon mascot for hardcore politicos. He even comes in many adorable outfits for fans to play dress-up with (dog whistle sold separately). There’s Papa John Groyper:
via Slate“These boxes actually contain Hungry Howie’s.”
Hulk Hogan Groyper:
via Will Sommer/Medium
Even a special edition “Are you offended yet?” Burka Groyper:
via SlateDon’t try to make sense of it. That way madness lies.
But among the favorite flavors of Groyper stands Trump Groyper, somehow looking less slimy as a lumpy frog:
via Will Sommer/MediumAnd the fake hair on the fake Trump-toad looks less ridiculous than the real hair on the real Trump-golem.
So if you’re wondering why all the worst accounts on Twitter switched up their avatars to this, that’s why. It’s definitely not because Matt Furie, the creator of Pepe, has started suing the white laces off of any popular enough site for copyright infringement. No, it’s because Pepe isn’t cool enough anymore. Not like Groyper, who’s too cool for school — art school, specifically.
Donald Trump/Twitter
2
The Anti-Obama Oil Painter Now Thinks Trump Is The New Messiah
Jon McNaughton is possibly one of history’s greatest artists. Not because he created anything breathtaking or profound or thought-provoking, mind, but because his works are some of the goddamn funniest examples of religious right-wing bathos.
Jon McNaughtonFirst and foremost, why would you plant a tree three feet in front a place where people will be sitting?
This lovely painting, titled You Are Not Forgotten, features Herr Conditioner and proves that you can’t make Trump look warm and charming even if you draw him yourself. But the real beauty of McNaughton’s art lies in the fact that he’s just a really, really hacky political cartoonist with a better brush stroke game. He often boasts about the number of “symbols” he manages to stuff into a single canvas. Here, the theme is unity. That’s why a not-that-keen eye can will spot that Everyman Trump is looming over a working-class family (whom he’s screwed) as they plant a flower (which he’s going to kill) in front of a crowd of veterans and soldiers (whom he dishonors), disabled people (whom he doesn’t care about), black people (whom he doesn’t like), various cabinet members (whom he’s fired), police officers (whom he’s insulted), and laborers (whom he doesn’t pay).
But McNaughton didn’t make his name by trimming half a dozen inches off of Trump’s waist. He became a conservative darling by taking dumps on President Obama for a solid eight years. Here’s his interpretation of Obama’s domestic policy:
Jon McNaughtonDid you notice the 9/11 symbolism? The thing that happened seven years before Obama was president, when a Republican was in office?
His foreign policy:
Jon McNaughtonTo be fair, Los Alamos does have a really nice golf course.
His stance on Obamacare:
Jon McNaughtonThere goes the plot for National Treasure 3.
And here again is that classic, featuring Obama trampling over the rights of the very same working man who Trump will later save while all the good Republican presidents are yelling at him:
Jon McNaughton“But I wanted to plant a tree there …”
Man, Obama really seems like a dick in these portraits. We’re surprised that the nuclear blast didn’t affect his golf swing, or that he escaped unharmed after dipping the Constitution in napalm and setting it alight in his hand, although that’s to be expected when you’re Literally Satan. His abilities are truly unending, as is his cruelty … as demonstrated by that time he forced a soldier to eat a slice of a gay wedding cake.
Jon McNaughton“It’s not even ice cream cake. Thanks, Obama.”
Save us, President Trump! Save us from that treacherous black sn- oh, you already have.
Jon McNaughtonThere is an extremely famous flag advising against this very thing!
1
Barron Trump, Manga Star
While Trump himself has a very divisive sort of popularity, the same can’t be said about the Trump children — Ivanka, Donnie Jr., and the one who looks like a hardboiled egg with a face drawn on it. His spawn are nigh-universally ridiculed, constantly putting their feet in those mouths they can’t ever seem to fully close. But one Trump kid is exempt from this ridicule: Barron, the unassuming, sweet-looking 12-year-old who actually has to live in the White House with his mom and dad. Making fun of a kid is not the nicest thing to do, so two sensitive artists have gone the other direction, trying to delve into the mind of this quiet boy and figuring out the turmoil he must feel from having the most powerful terrible father in the whole world — in fabulous manga form, natch.
Yuusuke Hori“At least it’s not a racist amphibian.”
This very melodramatic piece was posted by artist Yuusuke Hori right after Trump’s inauguration. It shows Barron in sparkly bishonen form with a title that reads “My loud, annoying dad is president, so the quiet unassuming life I wanted is completely over.” It was only meant as a silly mockup cover, but because it got insanely popular, we eventually got the for-realsies The Adventures Of Barron And His Loud-Mouthed President Father, and it’s everything we’ve ever wanted.
Joy LingWell, except for Trump not to be president, but still.
To all the non-otaku out there, TAOBAHLMPF (created by Brooklyn-based artist Joy Ling) sees Barron, who really just wants to “watch Netflix and play Pokemon,” teaming with Sasha and Malia Obama to solve the puzzle surrounding a “mysterious anomaly” that appeared after his father took office — which is not a polite way to refer to Kellyanne Conway. We don’t want to give away too many spoilers, but one of the central conflicts revolves around Barron trying to persuade his father to help put things right. Oh, that’s right, Donald Jerwillickers Trump makes an appearance, or at least the DJT from the universe where he doesn’t believe that exercise is a liberal plot to sap his precious bodily fluids.
Joy Ling“Please don’t tell me which flui-“ “Semen.”
Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook, and has a newsletter about depressing history that you should definitely subscribe to.
Art is great for letting some of the tension out, in case that’s a thing you need to do in this day and age, so maybe pick up some Bob Ross oil paints?
Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.
For more, check out 8 Hilariously Offensive Artworks Featuring Famous Presidents and 5 Unsettling Sub-Genres Of Fan Art Lurking On The Internet.
Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere.
Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_25547_5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork.html
from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2LbRvyT via Viral News HQ
0 notes