#the piercings i made a while back were specifically made for dante

[halfsalvo]

Ight you got a moment?

Lots of people are comparing ULTRAKILL with Doom Eternal and I'm here like.. what? These games are way too damn different to be actually compared to and I'm gonna go over why because I want to.

Combat Flow. [Ammo, health, etc.]

First, ammo, now don't get me wrong, ammo is cool or uncool in the case of ULTRAKILL but it's a moot point in saying [this] one is better. Doom had ammo ever since it was born as one of the first major fps games [or so I think.] You can't just remove the thing that's been in Doom since it's very conception, with Eternal perfecting it entirely with it just being reduced to a bind to slice something in half for it. As for UK, Hakita said that having ammo in ULTRAKILL would be like if Dante in Devil May Cry had durability on his sword, I.E it would want you to fight efficiently instead of stylishly, which is like.. the main point of ULTRAKILL's combat.

Second, health, this one is easier. Both games are gory, and both ironically implement that into their health systems, only that ULTRAKILL's is more on the fly and faster rather than Doom doubling down on the gore and having you play an animation to have the poor soul drop health like a pinata. Here's the thing, it fits both of their combat loops again and it also fits the lore the creators made for them, V1 is an efficient unstoppable killing machine that quite literally uses blood as fuel, never slowing down and clearing entire layers of hell in minutes with no regard of how much destruction it's causing, only focused on it's quest for blood fuel, while the Doomslayer is a human turned divine that has gone through hell and back, seen his family and pet die at the hands of the demons and wishes them nothing but the worst of pains, of course he will rip and tear the very beings of sin to shreds by his own hand.

Weapons, mother of Christ..

Doom Section:

I'm gonna try not to delve into ammo too much because I just discussed that but here's the thing. Each weapons fit their respective atmospheres and lore [unless you're doing one of those wacky ass coin punch setups in ULTRAKILL but yknow] so it's really hard to just compare the two's loadouts at all. Some people point at how UK made the starting pistol useful and like.. okay? That's not gonna work on doom when you have the Heavy Assault Rifle and the Chaingun to spit precision bolts and quad turrets at things, not like a charge shot is useful either when you have the Ballista/Gauss Cannon to use in those situations when you need something piercing, tell me, why you would use the pistol that in most cases is a waste of resources to use, something very important to Doom, and to let it sit there eating up a slot in your weapon loadout? What would you even put on it?

The huge selection is trickier to tackle but I'm gonna try my best here. Combat shotgun, Heavy AR, Plasma Rifle, Rocket Launcher, SSG, Ballista, Chaingun, BFG/Unmaykr. That is 8 whole ass weapons not counting the chainsaw and Crucible/Sentinel Hammer because those are utility weapons. Safe to say it can get overwhelming, but here's my point. Each weapon and their mods tie into the combat flow of Doom but each weapon usually also counters a type of demon better than the others, not saying it's the only one that can but it's the best in most circumstances because of how weak points work [unless you're a bastard like the Tyrant or Archie.] Even if they were gone, there's still the weapon and mod swapping for those who want to experiment on how to kill something the fastest besides just locking on with triple rockets the boring way, and you have many options with how you want to do that to take the least amount of damage while trying not to get slammed by the other demons you aren't prioritizing because wowzers you can't kill them all at once, sometimes you want to kill a heavy demon that's hard for you to deal with specifically when your crucible ran out or there's multiple of them and you're out of BFG. And for those people thinking about how Doom has the BFG as a panic screen wipe weapon when ULTRAKILL doesn't.

That's the BFG.. You're not just going to remove that thing from Doom. It literally stands for big fucking gun.

Besides, Eternal hard punishes you for not diversifying your gameplay I.E that's the game forcing you to get good or die trying, essentially shoving you head first into the focus bubble where the fun resides in a game like that. Or you could just.. you know.. not use those weapon at all, nobody's stopping you from doing that too, it's real fun to do that.

ULTRAKILL Section:

Heads up, if anyone says something about "dEfAUlT piErCeR iS toO StRoNG" then please just watch this I don't want to make this any longer than it already is for how much the argument has been refuted.

UK has less weapons than Doom but will eventually have more variations for all of them, with each weapons having 3 variations instead of Doom's 2. The focus instead of these weapons is style, no weak points, although yes some enemies like Cerberus are weaker to things like rockets, and Maurice is straight up invulnerable to rockets, but they aren't surefire ways to deal with them just like how Doom doesn't force you to use certain weapons to kill a weak spot. The main difference is that there are TONS more weapon interactions in ULTRAKILL than Eternal due to it's unlimited ammo and style focus. Mobility options, Chargebacks, P-boosting, Nuking, Railcoining, you get the gist, even with just 5 weapons it has an immensely large skill ceiling for on the fly combos and experimentation, mostly because of that damned quarter. Enemies, like Eternal, are able to be killed with any combo/weapon choice in a diverse amount of ways, including the community's favorite, instakills. Wanna kill a Cerberus? One two Railcoin combo or cannonball + parry/whiplash ball into parry, Maurice? Sharpshooter his first projectile or style on the moai with a chargeback. Yes you can kill any of them with the peashooter, shotgun swapping, or 100% Auto Aim with the nailgun until they die due to the unlimited ammo, but you are making the game boring to play for yourself and that's not exactly a good thing to do as far as any games go. The game will punish you for not being stylish but instead of outright killing you it's more of a push to try and achieve more in the case of the style meter directly affecting your hard damage, more style, the faster hard damage disappears, with the highest rank eliminating it entirely for the entirely of it being up. Now with the new changes, you can't spam one weapon if you wanted to either as it will outright stop giving you style if you use it too much, forcing you to use other variations and weapons to get style up at all.

Conclusion:

In the end, neither's combat loops would work with each other for the same things, creator vision, roots, and lore. A robot like V1 wouldn't kill something in the most painful way possible, that isn't efficient as blowing their torso off rather than breaking their arm with your bare hands and then tearing their head off. At the same time, the Doomslayer won't just start [intentionally] styling on demons, he hates them to the very core and wishes them all to die a painful death.

TL;DR: Stop comparing Doom Eternal to ULTRAKILL, they're too different to be compared and each person will have a different taste on if they want an efficient resource management gorefest or a Sweet Stylish Shitstorm.

Art by BaekMaddison on Twitter

#ultrakill #doom eternal #devil may quake #doom #gaming #fps shooter #comparison

[pbandjesse]

I have my new war piercing! I did just knock my hand into it and it hurt a little but overall no pain! I'm really excited about it. And the piercer thinks I can have the hoop I want by the summer.

And today was a really nice day, even if it was a little cold compared to yesterday. I slept weird. Waking up in the middle of the night panicking about money for an hour or so. But I was able to put on a video and fall asleep and not feel to bad when I woke up in the morning.

When I got up I felt good. Excited to go to see Jess. And spend some time with James.

I had some clothes issues. I liked my outfit but I wasn't sure about shoes and the ones I planned on didn't work out and when we got to the car James ran back up and I asked them to get me my boots. And that was a good call. I should have brought a jacket or sweater. But Jess would have one I could borrow so in the end it was all good.

We stopped to get me a hash brown from McDonald's. But I had the rest of my Starbucks from yesterday so I just enjoyed my drink. We listened to a podcast and listened to music and it was a pretty relaxed drive. Only a few people stressing us out. And we got to Philly around 1130.

We got a good free parking space and went to find Jess. We walked through the farmers market. And sat on a bench and eventually figured out where she was and it was so good to see her.

She was a little stressed over parking so we walked around the block until Stella's opened and we were all calmed down.

And it was a great lunch. Me and Jess shared a salad. Jess and James shared meatballs. We all shared rosemary bread and pizza. It was an excellent meal.

James would leave us after that. They went to go meet up with Dante for a few hours. And so me and Jess had some time alone to wander around South Street.

Jess made the observation that people who hang out in South Street have a specific look. And really it's just Portland meets NYC in 6 blocks. The worst of the best dressed grunge. It is always fun to see the variety.

Our first stop was the piercing place. My appointment would be our last thing at 345. But Jess got a piercing a few weeks ago and it was very swollen and she wanted to get it checked. They would end up changing her jewelry to give her a longer bar. It was not fun seeing her in pain but she got through it and while it was still sore it apparently was like instant relief and it look way less angry. So that is very good.

In the two hours we had to waste we would go get fairly subpar drinks (she got a latte and I got a chocolate milk), and then went to look at some vintage stores that were all very expensive but still were fun.

We went to Philly aids thrift. And if we had been interested in looking through the clothes I am sure it would have been our best best in prices. But we had some laughs at things we found. Jess was funny at one point asking for a hug. She's so sweet.

We wandered in and out of other vintage shops. I wasn't interested in buying but I had fun finding treasures. I even found a pair of shoes I used to be obsessed with. And really great vintage stuff. It was fun.

I would end up buying a window decal of Bart Simpson for James in an excellent, but very very expensive vintage shop. Regardless I had a great time looking.

After we went to the anarchist bookstore we would head back to Infinite Piercing for my appointment.

They were really nice. They helped me match to the size of my inner ear piercing diamond. And soon enough I went back alone. It all was very quick. The guy was very nice and we had some laughs when I described the cartilage piercing as sounding like someone stepping on a can of soda. But this piercing was just my lobe and was quick and only felt like being pinched.

And I love it. I think it's so cute. And I cannot wait til I can wear a hoop. But at least I have this beautiful shiny diamond in the mean time. This was Jess's birthday gift to me and I appreciate it so much.

We would head back to my car after we finished there. Got the cow squishmallow for her. And she gave me the bunny she got for me. An excellent trade.

As we walked towards where she was parked we found James. I had texted them to head back towards us. And we would say goodbye to Jess before we all parted ways.

Me and James stopped at the Wawa before getting on the highway. I got a little sandwich but it was dry. Ah well. I just needed to eat something.

We had a pretty easy ride home. A little traffic. But it was okay. I was tired. We finished the podcast and listened to music. And around 630 were finally home.

It was very windy and I was cold. I was a little snippy about wanting to get inside. We did get in fast though. And I was really happy to be back.

I checked in with the animals. Took pictures of my peeps. Had a snack. Went through the makeup and lotions Jess had sent back with me. She got a bunch of samples and mini size products and she picked me some excellent stuff. I am very excited to try them all out.

Once I put all that away I got a sweater on and went to chill with James. I played pokemon for a little. And eventually went and laid down to watch videos.

James would join me. Sweetp too. And it was just really nice to chill. I am not looking forward to work tomorrow. Nursery all day. I am sure I will have fun but my feet hurt and I am tired. I hope I sleep well tonight. James has promised me an omelet before work so I have something to look forward too.

Now though I am clean and cozy and ready to rest. I hope you have a great night tonight. Wish me luck not banging my ear. I have a donut pillow that I hope will help. Goodnight everyone!!

[crimsoncityhq]

PART I

One thing rang true and that was the prediction of the brutal blizzard of November 28th. Everyone prepped the best they could with the remembrance of how last Winter had ruthlessly blanketed their homes. There’s a frenzy for backup generators that get bought up in the Chicago stores for the anticipation. The first ominous whistle of the wind, and the pebbles of ice fall on the eve of Thanksgiving. Power flickers in each home giving them a moment of awkward darkness, before the backup generators kick in. The power companies in the city promise to have everyone serviced, but they start to service the scattered patches on the outskirts of the city first .

Most joked that was the brutal blizzard they had prepared for, until Mother Nature dropped her poker face. The ships with cargo became stuck in the harbor due to the icy fortress that froze over the gigantic lake. No lights of passing planes in the sky, as the wind turned into a sinister howl. Darkness engulfed the entirety of the city, except for a strip of hotels in neutral territory. The footmen of the families alert them that there seem to be only a handful of hotels that seem to be around. Meanwhile the temperature dips in the homes of those unlucky, and they must face a brash decision to not become the ice sculptures akin to the people of Pompeii. 

Multiple phone calls are done, and just as their phones are about to die they get a booking. A hotel that mentions that the accommodations might be crowded -- However, they can host your groups and promise warmth as long as the storm doesn’t shut them down. Everyone packs up their children, pets, and housemates to journey to the only solace that isn’t sold out in all Chicago.

After a restless eternity everyone was given a room number with their baggage ( human and otherwise ). The group of people that checked guests in alert them that there is a room for the animals to stay in kennels or they may accompany the others up to the room. Just when everyone was annoyed after being crowded in the lobby, and having to wait decades to get from one floor to another in the elevator.  It doesn’t help there’s always that one asshole that tries to asphyxiate everyone with their heinous flatulence. 

They FINALLY make it into their hotel room. Massive enough and customized with multiple full sized beds. No television, the heat blares up, it’s the poster child of the most bare necessities room. While everyone claimed a bed and stared haughty towards the guests that had ended up in the same room with them. A loud crackle followed by a slight rumble of their feet had the lights in the hotel rooms go off. The hotel doors seemed to have powered down, and anyone that tried to leave them --found they wouldn’t budge. A soft wheeze emitted from the heater in the room, and for a moment that’s the only noise in the room with you until the profanities start to flood. Winter wasn’t the only one that had prepped for the evening. The Walshes and their affiliates watch on with hidden elation as their plan goes into motion.

Part I will run from November 28th until December 3rd. Under the cut will be the groupings as well as some additional notes for this event.

Please don’t make any new starters open or closed that don’t pertain to this event while it’s happening. Normal replies can be done while the event is running, but it gets confusing timeline wise if people have additional threads that they start that would belong after the event timeline.

For this event specifically, the weather in Chicago is fictional. After the event you can feel free to glance at the Weather app and RP it out that way!

Animals will also be boarded at this neutral hotel. Keep in mind if the animals are left at your residence with the current temperature and no heat they will likely pass away.

Keep in mind that if your character has children (unless they are Walsh affiliates) they  likely have their kids in the room with them or any other NPC’s. If the character is a Walsh it was their choice to have them be ‘stuck’ in the room with them or left with a babysitter provided by the council.

For information on the bold names check the Walsh Discord channel. 

PREP PLOT SLOTS CHOSEN

 LIAM WALSH & IVY IVASHKOV volunteered to carpool with a hotel van to the hospital for sedatives and other harvesting supplies. AUDREY ROUSSEAU is already at the hospital and helps them fill the van before they all ride back to the hotel together. DAVUT DEMIR & KILLIAN WALSH are tasked with going to The Westin and sabotaging the hotel in time for the storm. They are told to do whatever necessary to make sure the hotel can’t accept any more guests before they return for the night. DARREN MURPHY took a smoke break after unloading only one of the supply vans at the hotel. LINCOLN DAWSON caught them smoking—as opposed to working—and made DARREN MURPHY finish unloading two other vans while they watched. 

ASLYN WALSH collected the weekly stash owed from the business owners at Magnificent Mile. She delivered the money to the council without prying eyes of local law enforcement or rival gangs catching on. ARMANDE IVASHKOV & another associate, had the dirty work of cleaning up the old blood stained hotel rooms used for organ harvesting the night before. They made it presentable before opening night. Their efforts were doubled when other affiliates weren’t aware of the chore, and had set off to bloody the room with a fresh harvest session.TARON LYNCH & JOANNA "JOEY" O'SHEA are instructed to sabotage the backup power generators on the north side. Surprisingly, they didn’t get caught. CAOILAINN WALSH had to “check” everyone into the hotel—AKA, assign each guest to a room. Everyone converges in the lobby and watches them impatiently, and the later it gets, the more aggressive the crowd becomes. ASLI DEMIR & FLETCHER HARGRAVE met with Jean Jaques “JJ” Baptiste and persuaded him by discussing terms of agreement for him to temporarily close Romanet Hotel the night of the massive storm.

ROOMS

ROOM #1: Arlo Flores, Fletcher Hargrave, Ira Evans, Jesse Valencia, Theodore "Teddy" Cohen

ROOM #2: Anastasia Sahin, Billie Washington, Josephine "Josie" Leon, Mathias Attano, Taron Lynch

ROOM #3: Andrea "Andy" Perez, Asli Demir, Blythe Sweetwine,Braden Kahale, Margeaux Saint Claire

ROOM #4: Alejandra Ruiz, Armande Ivashkov, Harlow Dumas,Jackson Marston, Lev Vasile, 

ROOM #5: Gwen Arnolds, Hana Faust,Jean-Jacques Baptiste De Romanet, Jessika Delmonica, Oisin Donnelly

ROOM #6: David Sharpe, Juno Song, Layla Jiminez, Nadia James, Nicola Faust, Peyton Bridges

ROOM #7: Callan Quinn, Effie Faust, Igor Vasile, Letitia "Tia" Valentine, Rosalie Halliday, Sutton James

ROOM #8: Addison Mckinley, Anton Volkov, Aries "Rhys" Rigsby, Cecilia Cavendish, Esmeray Demir, Lucian Faust

ROOM #9:  Aslyn Walsh, Catriona O'Shea, Oliver Faust, Tulsa Jane Honey

ROOM #10: Genevieve Bisset, Lee Malkovich, Levi Bohan, Maisie Kane, Saskia Vasile

ROOM #11: Amara Ricci, Auron Wright, Christine Li, Holden Mercer, Sloan Washington, Stefano Vitorri

ROOM #12: Edith Cohen, Ellis Rowe, Lavrenti "Lav" Vasile, Lincoln Dawson, Silas Hale

ROOM #13: Fabian Drake Kalashnyk, Carrigan Connolly, Cassidy Faust, Monika Adler, Nicholas Krieger

ROOM #14: Erin Cerci, Lada Antonovna, Leonid "Leo" Vasile, Rahi Kumar, Zoe Washington

ROOM #15: Abel Washington, Dominika Romanov, Faith Williams, Olivia Madden, Rosalia Leon, Cassandra Conally

ROOM #16: Atticus Mercer, Diamond Washington, Killian Walsh, Lorelai Faust, Oakley Butler

ROOM #17: Audric Noire, Mikhail Morosov, Noah Etkin, Nova Deveraux, Viktoriya Vasile

ROOM #18: Anatalya Vasile, Darren Murphy, Julia Faust, Konstantin Vasile, Violet Madden

ROOM #19: Davut Demir, Katarina Vasile, Veronica Pierce, Vincent St James, Zane Washington

ROOM #20: Beauregard “Beau” Griveaud, Blair Faust, Caoilainn "Callie" Walsh, Milo Arrington, Zedekiah Vasile

ROOM #21: Dante "Sebastian" Faust, Liam Walsh, Marissa Atkinson Orion Anderson, Vitomir Kipriyanov

ROOM #22: Andrew "Drew" Whittmore, Callum James, Ivy Ivashkov, Marie-Anne Beaulieu,  Nikolai Volkov ROOM #23: Audrey Rousseau,Barnaby Eaton, Constansia Fournier, Edie James, 

ROOM #24: Birdie Mendoza,Eleanor "Elle" Eaton, Joanna "Joey" O'Shea, Katya Ivanova, Wyatt Leon

#crimson.event #mature rp #oc rp #appless rp #crime rp

[jjba-hell]

Unforgiven

Alright, here it is- my debut! I tried to model this as close to canon but doing research post-writing proved me wrong. I didn’t think I’d be able to adjust my writing accordingly so I’m sticking with what I did.

Prompt chosen: Backstory

Some trigger warnings before we get into it: Canon typical violence, death, grief, suicide (if you squint). I mean if you know Risotto’s backstory you know it’s pretty harsh. If I missed some, let me know- I’m new.

Tagging @risottoneroo​ because I thirst for their Risotto content.

2,3 K words (yikes, I know)

They had done everything for him in the ambulance. Or at least that was what Risotto had seen. It was a hit and run- damn bastard. Maybe the driver was so drunk out of his mind that he didn’t even care. Regardless it was Risotto who was kneeling beside his cousin’s body in the street to try and stop the bleeding while fumbling with his phone to call for an ambulance.

Risotto sat bouncing his leg in the emergency room as his cousin was going under the knife in an attempt at retrieving his life from the accident. The seconds on the clock above the receptionists’ desk didn’t even seem to move. Risotto had almost had the idea that the lack of movement was because the clock was broken. Until the seconds hand painfully lurched forward to sit in a new spot.

Go take off that shit right now.” His father hissed beside him.

The comment dragged him back to his surroundings and the other people waiting alongside him- his uncle, who seemed just as caught up with staring at the door they had rolled his son through and Risotto’s own father who was much too aware of the prying eyes that surrounded them and more specifically poised on Risotto’s appearance.

Risotto turned back to watching the seconds tick by, deeming the onlookers unimportant. But not even another second passed before his father hissed out another “Dante!” with much more anger.

Thinking back on his father Risotto doesn’t remember much of the man other than the similarities he held with Risotto at his current age. He knew he was going to be tall- his years of being a lanky teenager being a pretty good indicator but the bulk his father carried from his days in the army and at the family business only started making themselves known later in Risotto’s own life. He wasn’t quite going to let him get to him that easy.

“Luciano is fighting for his life on the operating table and all you can think of is what I look like? To other people?”

His father disapproved of the punk phase Risotto had gone through. In fact- he hid it from his father. It was his and his cousin’s secret life, one that had all at once been exposed and scrutinized on this night.

Risotto’s father squared his jaw before standing up, grabbing hold of the lapel of his son’s jacket- moving towards the restrooms.

“Maybe if you didn’t look like such a menace, people would feel some remorse for running you over.” He grumbled ober his shoulder at Risotto on their way there. He shoved him into the rest room and gave one more stern order.

“Take this shit off, Dante.”

Then disappeared back to the waiting room.

Risotto started by taking off his snake bites, looking himself in the mirror and wondering if they were thinking the same thing about Luciano in the operating room. Would they feel less remorse if they saw the metal in Luciano’s eyebrow, or his ear? Would they half-ass helping him pull through back to life if they saw him like his father saw Risotto?

He pocketed the piercings from his face and some of the wrist bands before turning his Metallica T-shirt inside out. He threw his jacket over his shoulder and was about to head out when the reality seemed to hit so much harder.

They had just come from a concert; it was why he was dressed up like the punk his father hated seeing. He and Luciano were just two teenagers taking a smoke under the lamppost three blocks away from home- thinking it would give them enough space to air out the smell of cigarettes before walking through their front doors.

Risotto lurched forward over the sink and couldn’t even bring anything up, just gagging up bile as his stomach convulsed.

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This- I’m gonna wake up. It’s just a bad dream.

He splashed his face with the cold water from the tap and took hold of some paper towels to wipe off the experimental eyeliner.

When he walked back to the waiting room, he just wanted to disappear- away from the waiting eyes. He wanted- no, NEEDED- to be there for his cousin, even if it was just to hear them say “he’s pulled through” but his father’s words had planted a thought in his head that made him feel ashamed to even exist. He was stripped of all dignity, all that he felt comfortable in and he just wished he didn’t have to be seen anymore.

He sat down beside his father again, going back to bouncing his leg to watch the seconds sluggishly drag on until the doctor came through the doors.

Luciano’s father rose, frantically asking if his son had made it.

When the doctor started with the words, “Mr Armani, I’m sorry to say but your son-“ Risotto simply knew. From the way his heart felt like it was breaking down his chest to crash land at his heels.

His head felt heavy, dropping between his hands. Now, more than ever he didn’t want to be see- wanted to be at home shutting the door to his room to deal with all the grief he felt in his heart. But all he had was the privacy of his own hands.

Life moved around him for the next few hours, just walking and doing as he was told. He had gotten home and Rina- Risotto’s stepmother at the time- seemed to take pity on him, guiding him to his room where he just sat on the bed and stared at the wall in front of him.

This phase stretched well beyond the first few hours, moving towards days of not getting out of bed until Rina came to ease him out of bed with breakfast or into the bathroom to try and restore some kind of normalcy but it hurt. It hurt so much. This helplessness only lasted three days of course.

Eventually he was getting sick of being babied so he got up himself, leaving the house early in the morning for a jog around the block and then sitting in front of the kitchen counter for breakfast before either one of his parents could even bother getting up. He was gone the second they opened their bedroom door anyway- throwing his bag over his shoulder to wherever he could run to. Usually he just ended up waiting ungodly hours in the alleyways for the bus to take him to school.

“Hey, freak! Where’s your cousin?” A particular assholes asked as Risotto took a drag of his cigarette. Risotto gave a single glance his way before returning his gaze back to the cars running up and down the street.

A hand yanked him backwards by his shoulder and stole the cigarette from his hand.

“I’m talking to you, dumb ass! What? Can’t hear me from up there you freak?”

Risotto took one look at the guy, picked him up by his shoulders and slammed him against the wall- watching as he slid down the wall and crumbled into himself.

Risotto was about to spit more vitriol at him but instead gave a quick kick to the kid’s gut and walking out of the alley, holding back beating the shit out of the guy for the fear of being snitched on.

A different hand shot from around the corner of the alley, making Risotto stop at the edge of the alley and the walkway. The hand belonged to a strange sight in the middle of suburban Italy at 7 in the morning. Dressed in a well-tailored navy suit, a man only a head shorter than Risotto stopped him. “Not gonna finish the job, properly?”

He meant the dumbass in the alley. Risotto only shook his head as he moved past the hand that was holding him back- not even bothering to look at the guy that had stopped him.

He was about to cross the street to wait on the other side but the stranger called back. “It’s a shame what happened to your cousin.”

Risotto stood still in his tracks. “You do my know shit.”

“Don’t I? Luciano Armani died at the hospital Sunday morning after being being hit by drunk driver- you were the one that called the ambulance, Dante.”

Risotto knew his father and his uncle valued their privacy surrounding the situation- so he couldn’t help but be annoyed by the fact that this guy knew too much.

“What do you want?” Risotto asked over his shoulder-figuring this guy was some sleepy local reporter.

“Nothing really, not yet. But uhh-“ the man stuck out a business card with his name and number on it- nothing more. “Don’t be shy to call me when things go south for you.”

The thought suddenly struck him- mafioso. Sleezy bastard was probably trying to get him to do his dirty work for him- Luciano’s killer probably owed a debt to these guys.

Risotto took the card and surveyed the simple print. “What if I called the cops on you?”

The guy laughed. “Smart kid, but I’m afraid that would simply put more of your family members in their graves.”

And with a simple turn the guy disappeared down the street. Risotto pocketed the card, perhaps out of stupidity, perhaps out of curiosity but one thing was for sure.

He didn’t quite regret keeping it.

Rina had kept him in the loop in terms of what was going on with Luciano’s case as time went on. The police had caught the bastard that killed him and was currently constructing a case against him. For a moment, just a fraction of a moment, Risotto felt hopeful that perhaps there would be some justice for his cousin.

But it was overshadowed by the grief he felt as he helped clean up Luciano’s room, a few doors down from his parents’ house.

It was strange- the Armani brothers ran a business together but could never afford more than the two good homes in a good-ish neighborhood. The butchery was known for supplying most restaurants but butchers didn’t make that much money.

Risotto and his aunt were tasked with clearing up Luciano’s room which dragged all the memories of his cousin back to the forefront of his mind. Recalling the family dinners the two of them would duck out of for the sake of not having to babysit the younger cousins- in favor of an underground rock concert or just to play in the arcade nearby. Luciano did always have that one arcade token stuck in his back pocket he forgot to use, eventually turning into a “lucky” coin the two of them would jokingly hide in each other’s jacket pockets for whatever stupid reason.

Risotto found said token in one of the jean’s that he was folding up. He held Luciano’s passport a few hours later- feeling his stomach convulse at the sight of his birth date. 16. Luciano Armani was 16. Not even sure what he was going to do for the rest of his life- now it was a life he would never live.

Risotto never had siblings- his mother had passed shortly after his birth, he never even knew what a mother was. The closest thing to a mother he had was Luciano’s- his aunt. His father and uncle were more concerned with the butchery to care. Not much had changed on that front.

But a better brother than Luciano didn’t exist.

That was how Risotto knew him- the brother he’d turn to whenever his father would get aggressive after a few rounds of rum. The brother he went to when his father remarried. Even if Luciano couldn’t give him any solid advice, the distraction of going out and getting up to shit together was enough to overcome the isolation of his pain.

Tiredly, Risotto was sent back home by his grieving aunt. He didn’t even recall if the room was packed up completely.

It was the night before the funeral service and in the hot summer night Risotto clambered into a cold bath to help soothe the pain over his body. Perhaps he would never have been in the situation if he didn’t spend so much time at the school gym, on the track...

Rina had even drawn the bath for him, leaving the Epsom salt on the rim to add if he needed it.

Risotto opened his hand to see the coin he seemed to be holding onto the whole week. In the back of his mind he supposed it was him trying to draw some strength from it, as if it’s supposedly luck could help him through the pain.

With a deep breath he closed his hand around the coin and sunk his head underneath the water- asking for luck one more time.

At the funeral service Risotto said goodbye to the coin, tossing it on top of the first handfuls of dirt already sullying the polished wood coffin.

He thought it was acceptance he felt as he let the cool metal sentiment fall from his palm.

All of that was shattered when the trial for his killer came back as not-guilty.

Hearing the verdict made him feel like all grounding he had while climbing over his grief slipped right under him and he was undeniably plummeting.

Ending up in the inconceivable rage he still feels whenever he thinks back to how he ended up looming over the figure of the drunkard that killed his brother. He was so sick of waiting- sick of waiting for the doctor’s verdict, the jury’s verdict. They had all failed him that day, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The night the verdict was released, Risotto had called the mafioso, asking when they could meet for a talk.

He was straightforward about what he wanted- he wanted the man dead. If it meant doing it himself and being protected by them or if they wanted to off him themselves- he didn’t care.

They had shrugged and said they had no reason to kill him, but he’d need to go through two initiations to make the murder disappear.

The first was simple enough, kill the guy he wanted dead.

Risotto was too far gone to even care as he bludgeoned the guy to death with a crowbar, feeling the bastard’s blood splatter against his face in a warehouse not too far from the shore.

He wrapped the body up in plastic and duct tape and brought the body to the mafioso that had led him thus far.

“We’ll get the blood later.” The man smiled through cigarette smoke. The mafioso threw an arm around Risotto’s shoulder after he hauled the body into the trunk of the car.

“Now, for the hard part.”

Acquiring Metallica felt like a joke- mocking the part of himself he felt he’d never allow to be seen again, the part he and Luciano hid from the world. He figured the ability was for the sake of wanting to make other people feel the weakness they carried in their own blood and the invisibility was a gift- on he wanted to possess to escape from the eyes that surveyed him as he was in pain.

Normally, getting into the mafia acquired smaller crimes first, but since Risotto had started with murder he was assigned to join the hitman team- on one condition.

His family be left untouched.

He promised to sacrifice a cut of his pay for every month for years to assure they were never hurt again. It caused him to move into a dingy apartment after spending too much time on the couch of the hideout, but he didn’t care. He moved up quick enough not to care- most hitman don’t last over 30 years old anyway.

His father, Rina, his aunt, and uncle, all his younger cousins would be safe as long as he kept paying. It was, after all, he had left of Luciano. The smallest wad of cash was all physical reminder. But somehow it made him sleep a bit easier knowing they were safe. Only question that plagued his nightmares was if it was enough to redeem something of his soul.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojo part 5 #jojo golden wind #la squadra #Risotto Nero #lasquadraweek2020

[spirit-of-the-void]

Hello dove! I’ve got another ask for you! Would you mind doing general headcanons for Dante with a shy and sweet s/o who has plant and healing magic and runs a flower shop? Preferably a mix of fluff and angst, but I’m not really looking for anything specific. Thanks as always! 🌸

Anything for you my doe

- He had met you by chance, and was completely entranced from day one.

- Why had he gone into your flower shop? He could hardly remember this far into your relationship, but he had gone there for a reason. Probably to buy some roses, he loved having them for a flare during battle.

- But it all paled to the first moment he saw you.

- So pretty, so elegantly soft looking. A gentle smile and shining eyes as you trimmed and arranged a flower display. Dante rarely felt flustered around women, but something about your face turned him into a stammering idiot around you.

- And you were…so shy. Pink around the ears at any compliment, pulling up your turtleneck to hide your face. Dante imagined arrows piercing his heart as you peeked out at him, enjoying his easy smile and approachable aura.

- It just felt right when he kept coming back to buy his roses. For whatever reason they didn’t seem to wilt, living much longer than a normal flower and with little maintenance.

- You smiled shyly whenever he came into the shop, but your eyes were bright and happy each time he talked to you.

- And when he finally asked you out for coffee, it made your face flush and voice squeak when you said yes.

- From that point on it was just natural, gentle progression of your relationship. Dante never saw himself as the dating type, but with you it came so naturally. He loved your little smiles, your soft voice, the way your hair always smelled of fresh flowers.

- He knew you needed someone who could handle you gently, so when you questioned his occupation…well, he kept it vague. It made him feel bad, but demon hunting was a harsh thing, one he didn’t want to scare you with.

- You were months into your relationship when the truth came out.

- It had been a stormy night, the devil hunter on what he assumed to be a typical mission. Same shit, different day. A few demon nests were reported around the city, Dante paid to remove them quickly and quietly with the help of a few more demon hunters.

- He had been finishing up the mission when he had gotten a call about one more nest bursting, the address making his blood run cold and his feet taking off in a dead sprint.

- It was on your street, in the sewer below your shop.

- He transformed into sin devil trigger form, getting to where you were as fast as he could with thunder cracking in the distance. You could be in danger, and that was terrifying to him.

- His fears were only realized when he reached the shop, the sight of the front, glass door broken in and pots smashed on the ground. A few stray demons were in the street, breaking into other nearby shops and scurrying over yours. He couldn’t pay attention to them, not right now.

- He took on his human form, blood boiling as he readied to fight.

- He had his pistols out the moment he stepped through the shop door, shooting the first creatures he saw and taking them out with deadly precision. They had trashed your shop, your pride and joy, but you were no where to be seen.

- He sprinted to the backroom, grunting when he nearly tripped on overgrown vines. The whole room was…filled with them, writing and tangling over the table in the corner. Three demons were in the room, snapping and clawing at the vines that held them back.

- Dante didn’t hesitate, laying waste to the creatures. Sword drawn, slicing two down with a grunt before pulverizing the other. They collapsed to the floor right when a quiet whimper came from under the desk, the vines spreading more and wrapping around Dante’s legs.

- He looked at the table, hearing soft, panicked gasps from a voice he recognized.

- “Y/N?” He called, tone filled with both relief and worry as he tugged on the plants. What the hell was happening in here?

- The instant he spoke the vines released him, moving aside to show your form curled up at the very back underneath the table, eyes filled with tears and marks glowing ever so slightly from you. Vines came from your form, disappearing as soon as you saw Dante rushing to the table.

- “Dante…!” You hiccuped as he pulled you out, practically crushing you against him in an embrace. He had killed the demons, effectively saving you from them. You were no fighter, but you managed to protect yourself.

- “I’ve got you, sunshine.” Dante said soothingly, covering your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at the demon bodies. He quickly carried you upstairs, hearing his fellow demon hunters reach the street and start attacking the others.

He was panting, covered in scrapes and bruises from fighting for a few hours now, “Everything is alright baby,” He promised, wiping away some of your tears and giving that trademark, quirky smile you grew to adore, “Sorry I didn’t get here faster. Let’s say I got a bit laid up with work.”

- You flushed, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently holding yourself to him. The shop was messed up, and you were still scared, But you had never been so happy to see him.

- “A…are you a demon hunter…?” You whispered, seeing the sword on his back, the guns around his waist as you pulled away from him.

- He had the good graces to look guilty, eyes down to the floor as he grunted in reply, “I…didn’t want you to know about it…it’s a dangerous job, and I never wanted you to be scared, babe.”

- You stared at his face, seeing a hint of fear, worry, and guilt mixed together. Demon hunting was scary, sure, but… Dante had been kind and considerate with you since day one, and you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t in love with him.

- “Th…that doesn’t matter…” You mumble, face feeling warm as you looked away from him, “If anything…with you I know I’m safe. And…I’d still love you no matter what.”

- Dante rarely got flustered, but something about your soft, stammering voice and those rosy cheeks made his own cheeks flush. Cue five more of  cupid’s arrows cutting through his heart.

- He lifts you up again in his arms, making you squeak a bit.

- “My darling sunshine, you know just what to say that’ll slay me where I stand,” He hums, pressing his head to your shoulder, “Besides…it looks like you have a few tricks up your sleeves too.”

- You bite your lip, nodding as you concentrated your abilities enough to heal his wounds. He grunted in surprise, leaning his head back a bit to look into your gorgeous eyes as you did so.

- “I…I can heal you,” You mumbled, looking away when he rose a brow, “And…I can do stuff with plants as well.”

- “So that’s how you get those fancy ass roses…!” Dante snapped a finger, a crooked smile tilting his lips, “The mystery is finally solved. Although…didn’t I always tell you that you were the sunshine plants needed? Guess I was right.”

- You flush more, pulling up your collar as you whisper, “Dante…”

- “And guess what?” He leaned in, kissing you softly and making your heart bounce sporadically in your chest before he chuckled, “I think you were just the sunshine I needed too.”

- Cue five arrows piercing your heart, filling you with embarrassed delight.

- Dante made a few calls after carrying you to your home above the shop, getting people who could help him with repairs the next day and clean up. He wasn’t lying when he said he was a handy man, but he wanted to make sure the job was done perfectly.

- You had the chance to change your clothes and make some herbal tea, sitting curled on Dante’s lap while you both talked for a while.

- He told you of his half demon lineage, of his devil form. Of everything that happened with his parents, his brother. It made your heart ache–you knew he had been through something terrible, but never knew the specifics until now.

- His demonic half never bothered you, how could it? He was so incredible, nothing like that mattered to you.

- And you shared the knowledge of your abilities, about growing up with them and learning on your own to cultivate a life for yourself.

- Dante listened attentively, stroking your hair behind your ear and plucking out a few stray flower petals.

- “We’re kind of a like in a lot of regards,” He mused, putting one of your hands to his slightly stubbled chin and making your cheeks that pretty pink again, “Except I formed a business set on killing and you made a business set on creating life.”

- “I’d say we both formed businesses to help people,” You countered softly, tracing the lines of his face with gentle fingers, “You’re a good person, Dante. Never doubt that about yourself.”

- Your words made him smile ruefully, holding you a little closer as he murmurs, “When you say it, sunshine, it sounds pretty believable.”

- You huffed a bit at that, but it was easily silenced when he brushed his lips softly to yours once more.

- You both ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms, the tea forgotten on the table beside you.

- Dante made sure your shop was fixed, and agreed to tell you when he was going on a mission. After all, he now had a lovely, flower-growing healer to return to if he got banged up.

Like what you see? Consider buying me a coffee https://ko-fi.com/E1E7GCMU

#dante #dante x reader #devil may cry #devil may cry dante #head canon

[clownsgobeepbeep]

🎎older Atlas and Ula X3

Our muses sit close enough to brush knees/lean against yours

So this turned out a little longer than planned, ‘cause I was trying to write tiny dork and her two big dorks ^^’ Hope it’s good-ish

It was a breezy, autumn evening: a perfect day to spend at the carnival.

With skies that ever so slowly turned into a violet hue after remaining orange for a while, the ground was quite the contrary. There were lights all throughout, whether they be tiny bulbs on booths and food stands, or large signs reading the names of rides placed all around.

All around, upbeat music was heard as people made their way through whatever to get to their favorite rides as fast as possible. Every now and then, there was the sound of a scream piercing through the air and sometimes the sobbing of a child scared out of their mind, but everybody was far too focused on their own enjoyment to take notice.

Below on the ground, was a group of eyes that all stared into the bright, multicolored lights on the moving monument before them. Every little bulb glistened in their eyes that were wide with astonishment if not fear.

“That’s fucking insane.”

“I don’t think I could go on that.”

“I don’t think Princess could go on that.”

“Oh, fuck you Dante.”

Despite the conversation, the group soon tilted their heads upwards to follow the huge object that now swung over the crowd before swinging back continuously.

“I think I’m gonna go with Ama and Henry.”

“I specifically made them go to the other side for a reason Robyn, and you sure as heck are not going to ruin it.”

So many screams now rang through the group’s ears as they continued watching, the giant pendulum before them finally swinging high enough to remain upside down for a moment to then make a full circle.

Two of the group members soon felt their hands be held by smaller ones that gripped onto them tightly, no doubt somewhat nervous.

On the left was the only member with green eyes, these now looking down at his girlfriend who nervously looked up at the ride titled “Freak Out”. On her right was her other boyfriend, this one also looking down at her short figure.

“Uh...how about we go on another ride instead?”

“Are you wussing out Atlas?”

“Rayden, leave him alone. If anyone’s wussing out it’s you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I actually agree with Atlas.” the girl of the group spoke up, hands still gripping onto her partners’. “Maybe we should go eat something.”

“Any ideas?” Atlas asked to the group who remained quiet, seeing as the pendulum slowed down, eventually coming to a complete stop. “Schrader? You know this place more than we do.”

“Um.” Schrader looked away from the ride, returning Ula’s squeeze before turning to Atlas. “There should be a cool potato stand nearby, as well as a funnel cake one.”

“Oooh! I want potatoes!”

“Me too!” Robyn and Rayden exclaimed in unison after Dante licked his lips, the other trio slightly shrugging.

“Well, I really want some funnel cake.” Atlas chuckled, his eye now following a pair who walked in front of the group with a large funnel cake. “Oh yeah, I definitely want some.”

“Same.” Ula nodded before looking over at Schrader. “What about you?”

“I’ll go with the funnel cake as well.” he replied with a smile. “They top them with your choice of ice cream or whip cream, and even berries if you want.”

“That sounds so freaking good.” Ula bit her lip before turning to Dante and the twins. “You guys go get your potato chips or whatever, and then we’ll meet back here in twenty.”

“Got it!” the twins soon grabbed Dante’s arms, dragging him away to then leave Ula alone with Atlas and Schrader, an awkward atmosphere surrounding them like previous times throughout the day.

“Alright.” Ula nodded with a sigh, smiling at each of the boys. “Funnel cake time.”

“Yup.” Atlas gave a small nod, then hearing as Schrader cleared his throat.

“Uh, come on.” he motioned to the side. “Stand’s this way.”

After having walked away from the pendulum ride, the trio soon arrived to a seating area already quite filled with other guests that enjoyed their own carnival snacks.

“Since you guys are bigger than me,”Ula started with a bit of a laugh. “How about you find us a place to sit at while I order?”

“Sounds…”

“Good…” Schrader finished for Atlas.

“Alright. Anything you guys want? Individual cakes?”

“I’m okay with sharing.” Schrader stated before slightly nudging Atlas. “The cakes are pretty huge, especially if they’re on an elephant ear.”

“Oh, okay.” Atlas nodded before Ula smiled at them, soon enough making her way to the stand itself as Schrader and Atlas stood in an even more awkward atmosphere. “There’s a table over there.”

“Great.” Schrader followed after Atlas, both now sitting on a single side of the table for the other had been occupied by a family who thankfully had their backs turned to them. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Yeah?”

“How’s your day been?” Schrader asked as he fiddled with one of his piercings. “Been having fun?”

“Oh, yeah, totally.” Atlas nodded as he now adjusted his glasses, looking around the area to find Ula who he saw was still in line. “The roller coaster was especially fun.”

“The wooden one?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Schrader nodded, then giving a chuckle. “We always thought Ula was the screamer, but as it turns out, it’s Robyn.”

“That was pretty funny.’ Atlas quietly laughed, remembering that even with such high speed and music blaring into everyone’s ears, Robyn could clearly be heard shrieking throughout the ride. “The picture was a lot funnier though.”

“Totally. You know, I saved the code, so maybe I could buy it later.” Schrader shrugged. “As a memory and all, but also something to laugh at.”

“Hm, yeah.” Atlas hummed, now looking down at his hands that he had folded in front of him. 

“If we don’t go on the pendulum, where would you wanna go?”

“Uuuh, maybe...the bumper cars? Tilt-a-whirl? If there even is one.”

“Oh there’s one. Three in fact.”

“Three?”

“Three what?” Ula’s voice was now heard, the pair looking behind to see her holding a large board containing quite a large snack that made Atlas’ eyes widen.

“What is that monstrosity?” he scanned the treat that Ula had now placed on the table, the latter soon sitting between Atlas and Schrader who realized how tight the space was, knees all brushing against each other.

“This is the one Schrader mentioned.” Ula giggled as she handed them each a fork. “Elephant Ear topped with funnel cake, topped with ice cream, topped with strawberries and chocolate drizzle.”

“Jeff and Bubbles could eat this entire thing in a single bite.” Atlas poked the cake with his fork, seeing as Ula and Schrader began to dig in. “No, they would each eat one in a single bite.”

“Thankfully, there’s one of this thing and three of us.” Schrader popped a strawberry into his mouth before shutting his eyes, no doubt pleased.

Atlas then took his own piece of the funnel cake, smiling as the flavor hit his tongue before spreading through his mouth.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Ula spoke once again as she took a strawberry and dipped it in ice cream. “How many prizes you guys were gonna win for me at the booths?~”

“I saw some axolotl plushies on the way here.” Atlas mentioned, Ula’s attention fully on him now. “I think it was a throwing game, where you hit milk bottles.”

“Those are always so rigged.” Ula blew a raspberry before taking a piece of the funnel cake. “However, we have a secret weapon named Schrader. You should see all the prizes he’s gotten for Cordie.”

“I can just imagine.” Atlas continued to eat as did Ula and Schrader, the former then turning around when he heard an especially loud scream. “Is that…?”

“Robyn.” Schrader nodded as he and Ula also turned. “Those assholes went on the pendulum without us.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t really complain.” Ula watched with wide eyes at the attraction that swung high enough to somehow make that one specific scream sound even louder. “I kinda prefer to go to a haunted house.”

“You know,” Atlas looked down at his phone. “We technically still have about ten minutes before we’re supposed to ‘meet up’.”

_____________

“It looks pretty silly.” Atlas commented as he and Ula were lead towards the haunted house attraction, everybody staring up at the dark building that had all sorts of animatronics no doubt purchased at Halloween stores.

“Which in the end gives you a good laugh.” Schrader chuckled as he paid the employee in front of the house the required ticket amount, all three then being allowed inside where they were met up with a four-seat car. “And the breeze is fantastic, in addition to the break from walking.”

“Exactly what I need, because these heels are actually killing me.” Ula stepped into the car, sitting in the front before Atlas and Schrader looked at each other. “Right.”

“You go.” Schrader motioned to Atlas. “I’ll go in the back.”

“You sure? I sat with her on the roller coaster.”

“It’s fine.” Schrader nodded, then sitting in the back as Atlas seated himself beside Ula. “I can sit with her on the next ride. Unless we go to the haunted maze.~”

“Thanks.” Atlas smiled, all three of them feeling the lap bars be lowered which further tightened the spaces. “Well then.”

“I’m short and I’m still smooshed.” Ula laughed as the ride began, shifting around as her knees continuously brushed against Atlas’. “But that only gives me an excuse.”

“Excuse for what?” Atlas looked down at her, then feeling as she leaned against his chest with her arms wrapped around his much bigger frame. “Ah.”

Atlas felt Ula snuggle right into his body, even as Atlas jumped due to an animatronic popping out with a loud sound on his side.

“And that’s why you get to sit with her this time.” Schrader leaned in to tell Atlas, chuckling to himself as he leaned back in his seat.

[chiseler]

The Chiseler Interviews Tim Lucas

Born in 1956, film historian, novelist and screenwriter Tim Lucas is the author of several books, including the award-winning Mario Bava: All the Colors of the Dark, The Book of Renfield: A Gospel of Dracula, and Throat Sprockets. He launched Video Watchdog magazine in 1990, and his screenplay, The Man With Kaleidoscope Eyes, has been optioned by Joe Dante. He lives in Cincinnati with his wife Donna. 

The following interview was conducted via email.

*

THE CHISELER: You're known for your longstanding love affair with horror films. Could you perhaps explain this allure they hold for you?

Tim Lucas: I suppose they’ve meant different things to me at different times of my life. When I was very young (and I started going to movies at my local theater alone, when I was about six), I was attracted to them as something fun but also as a means of overcoming my fears - I would sometimes go to see the same movie again until I could stop hiding my eyes, and I would often find out they showed me a good deal less than I saw behind my hands, so I learned that when I was hiding my eyes my own imagination took over. This encouraged me to look, but also to impose my own imagination on what I was seeing. Similarly, I remember flinching at pictures of various monsters in FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND magazine, then realizing that, as I became able to stop flinching, to look more deeply into the pictures, I began to feel  compassion for Karloff’s Frankenstein Monster and admiration for Jack Pierce’s makeup. You could say that I learned some valuable life lessons from this: not to make snap judgements, not to hate or fear someone else because they looked different. I should also point out that beauty had the same intense effect on me as ugliness, in those early days at the movies. I was as frightened by the glowing light promising another appearance by the Blue Fairy in PINOCCHIO as I was by Stromboli or Monstro the Whale. I also covered my eyes when things, even colors, became too beautiful to bear.

As I got older, I found out that horror, science fiction, and fantasy films often told the unpleasant truths about our world, our government, our politics, and other people, before such things could be openly confronted in straightforward drama. So I’m not one of those people who are drawn to horror by gore or some other superficial incentive; I have always responded to them because they made me aware of unpopular truths, because they made me a more empathic person, and because they sometimes encompass a very unusual form of beauty that you can’t find in reality or in any other kind of film.

THE CHISELER: I'm fascinated by what you term "a very specific hybrid of beauty that you can’t find in reality or in any other kind of film.” Please develop that point.

Tim Lucas: For example, the aesthetic put forward by the films of David Lynch... or Tim Burton... or Mario Bava... or Roger Corman... or Val Lewton... or James Whale... or F.W. Murnau. It's incredibly varied, really; too varied to be summarized by a single name, but it's dark and baroque with a broader, deeper spectrum of color. I’ll give you an example: there is a Sax Rohmer novel called YELLOW SHADOWS - and only in a horror film can you see truly yellow shadows. Or green shadows. Or a fleck of red light on a vine somewhere out of doors. It’s a painterly version of reality, akin to what people see in film noir but even more psychological. It might be described as a visible confirmation of how the past survives in everything - we can see new artists quoting from a past master, making their essence their own.

THE CHISELER: Your definition of horror, to me, goes straight to the heart of cinema as an almost metaphysical phenomenon. My friend and frequent co-writer, Jennifer Matsui, once wrote: "Celluloid preserves the dead better than any embalming fluid. Like amber preserved holograms, they flit in and out of its parameters, reciting their own epitaphs in pantomime; revenant moths trapped in perpetual motion." Do Italian directors have what I guess you can call special epiphanies to offer? If so, does this help explain your Bava book?

Tim Lucas: The epiphanies of Italian horror all arise from the culture that was inculcated into those filmmakers as young people - the awareness of architecture, painting, writing, myth, legend, music, sculpture that they all grow up with. It's so much richer than any films that can be made by people with no foundation in the other art forms, people who makes movies just because they've seen a few - and maybe cannot even be bothered to watch any in black and white. I imagine many people go into the film business for reasons having to do with sex or power rather than having something deep down they need to express. The most stupid Italian and French directors have infinitely more in their artistic arsenals than directors from the USA, because they are brought up with an awareness of the importance of the Arts. No one gets this in America, where we slash arts and education budgets and many parents just sit their children in front of a television. Without supervision, without a sense of context, they will inevitably be drawn to whatever is loudest or most colorful or whatever has the most edits per minute. And those kids are now making blockbusters. They make money, so why screw with the formula? When I was a kid, it was still possible to find important, nurturing material on TV - fortunately!

Does it explain my Bava book? I don't know, but Bava's films somehow encouraged and sustained the passion that saw me through the researching and writing of that book, which took 32 years. When my book first came out, some people took me to task for its presumed excess - on the grounds that “our great directors” like John Ford and Orson Welles, for all their greatness, had never inspired a book of such size or magnitude. I could only answer that my love for my subject must be greater. But the thing about the Bava book, really, was that - at that time - the playing field was pretty much virgin territory in English, and Bava as a worker in the Italian film industry touched just about everything that industry had encompassed. All of those relationships needed charting. It would have been an insult to merely pigeonhole him as a horror director.

THE CHISELER: I discovered your publication, Video Watchdog, back in 2000 when Kim's Video was something of an underground institution here in NYC. I mean, they openly hawked bootlegs. There was a real sense of finding the unexpected which gave the place a genuine mystique. Now that you've had some time to reflect on its heyday, what are your thoughts, generally, on VW?

Tim Lucas: It's hard to explain to someone who just caught on in 2000, when things were already very different and more incorporated. VIDEO WATCHDOG began in 1990 as a magazine, but before that it was a feature in other magazines of different sorts that began in 1986. At that time, I was reviewing VHS releases for a Chicago-based magazine called VIDEO MOVIES, which then had a title change to VIDEO TIMES. I pointed out to my editor that his writers were reviewing the films and not saying anything about their presentation on video, and urged him to make more of a mandate about discussing aspect ratios, missing scenes (or added scenes) and such. I proposed that I write a column that would start collecting such information and that column was called "The Video Watchdog.”

In 2000, VW's origins in Beta and VHS and LaserDisc had evolved to DVD and Blu-ray was on the point of being introduced, so by then most of the battles we identified and fought had already been won and assimilated into the way movies were being presented on video. But in our early days, my fellow writers and I - were making our readers aware of filmmakers like Bava, Argento, Avati, Franco, Rollin, Ptushko, Zuławski - and the conversation we started led to people seeking out these films through non-official channels, even forming those non-official channels, until the larger companies began to realize there was an exploitable market there. Our coverage was never limited to horror - horror was sort of the hub of our interest, which radiated out into the works of any filmmaker whose work seemed in some way paranormal - everyone from Powell and Pressburger to Ishiro Honda to Krzystof Kiesłowski.

Now that the magazine is behind me, I can see more easily that we were part of a process, perhaps an integral part, of identifying and disseminating some very arcane information and, by sharing our own processes of discovery, raising the general consciousness about innumerable marginal and maverick filmmakers. A lot of our readers went on to become filmmakers (some already were) and many also went on to form home video companies or work in the business.

I'm proud of what we were able to achieve, and that what were written as timely reports have endured as still useful, still relevant criticism. Magazines tend to be snapshots of the present, and our back issues have that aspect, but our readers still tell me that the work is holding up, it’s not getting old.

When I say "we," I mean numerous writers who shared my pretentious ethic and were able to push genre criticism beyond the dismissive critical writing about genre film that was standard in 1990. I mentioned this state of things in my first editorial, that the gore approach wasn’t encouraging anyone to take horror as a genre more seriously, and I do think horror became more respectable over the years we were publishing.

THE CHISELER: My own personal touchstone, Raymond Durgnat, drilled deep into genre — particularly horror films — while pushing back instinctively against the Auteur Theory. No critic will ever write with more infatuated precision about Barbara Steele, whose image graces the cover of your Bava tome. Do you have any personal favorites in that regard; any individual author or works that acted as a kind of Virgil for you?

Tim Lucas: I haven't read Durgnat extensively, but when I discovered him in the 1970s his books FRANJU and A MIRROR FOR ENGLAND were gospel to me. Tom Milne's genre reviews for MONTHLY FILM BULLETIN were always intelligent and well-informed. Ivan Butler’s HORROR IN THE CINEMA was the first real book I read on the subject, along with HITCHCOCK/TRUFFAUT - and I remember focusing on Butler’s chapter on REPULSION, an entire fascinating chapter on a single film, which I hadn’t actually seen. It showed me the film and also how to watch it, so that when it finally came to my local television station, I was ready to meet it head on. David Pirie’s books A HERITAGE OF HORROR and THE VAMPIRE CINEMA I read to pieces. But it was Joe Dante's sometimes uncredited writing in CASTLE OF FRANKENSTEIN magazine that first hooked my interest in this direction - followed by the earliest issues of CINEFANTASTIQUE, which I discovered with their third issue and for which I became a regular reviewer and correspondent in 1972. I continued to write for them for the next 11 years.

THE CHISELER: I was wondering how you responded to these periodic shifts in taste and sexual politics, especially as they address horror movies — or even something like feminist critiques of the promiscuity of rage against women evident all throughout Giallo; the fear of female agency and power which is never too far from the surface. Are sexism, and even homophobia, simply inherent to the genre?

Tim Lucas: None of that really matters very much to me. I've been around so long now, I can see these recurring waves of people trying to catch their own wave of time, to make an imprint on it in some way. For some reason, I find myself annoyed by newish labels like "folk horror" and "J-horror" because such films have been with us forever; they didn't need such identification before and they have only been invented to get us more quickly to a point, and sometimes these au courant labels simply rebrand work without bringing anything substantially new to the discussion. Every time I read an article about the giallo film, I have to suffer through another explanation of what it is - and this is a genre whose busiest time frame was half a century ago. Sexism and homophobia are things people generally only understand in terms of the now, and I don’t know how fair it is to apply such concepts to films made so long ago. Think of Maria’s torrid dance in METROPOLIS and all those ravenous young men in tuxedos eating her with their eyes. Sexist, yes - but that’s not the point Lang was making.

I don’t particularly see myself as normal, but I suppose I am centrist in most ways. I don’t bring an agenda to the films I write about, other than wanting them to be as complete and beautifully restored as possible. That said, I am interested in, say, feminist takes on giallo films or homosexual readings of Herman Cohen films because - after all - we all bring ourselves to the movies, and if there’s more to be learned about a film I admire, from outside my own experience, that can be precious information. I want to know it and see if I can agree with it, or even if it causes me to feel something new and unfamiliar about it.

My only real concern is that genre criticism tends to be either academic or conversational (even colloquial), and we’re now at a point where the points made by articles published 20 or more years ago are coming back presented as new information, without any idea (or concern) that these things have already been said. As magazines are going by the wayside, taking their place is talk on social media, which is not really disciplined or constructive, nor indeed easily retrievable for reference. There are also audio commentaries on DVD and Blu-ray discs. Fortunately, there are a number of good and serious people doing these, but even when you get very intelligent or intellectual commentators, they often work best with the movie image turned off, because it’s a distraction from what’s being said. Is that true commentary? I'm not an academic; I’m an autodidact, so I don't have the educational background to qualify as a true intellectual, and I feel left out by a lot of academic writing. I do read a good deal and have familiarity with a fair range of topics, so I tend to frame myself somewhere between the vox populist and academia. That's the area we pursued in VW.

THE CHISELER: David Cairns and I once published a critical appreciation of Giallo, using fundamentally Roman Catholic misogyny — and, to a lesser extent, fear of gay men — as an intriguing lens. For example, lesbians are invariably sinister figures in these movies, while straight women ultimately function as nothing more than cinematographic objects: very fetishized, very well-lit corpses, you might say.

Tim Lucas: See, I admire a lot of giallo films but it would never occur to me to see them through a lens. I do, of course, because personal experience is a lens, but my lens is who I am and I’ve never had to fight for or defend my right to be who I am. I have no particular flag to wave in these matters; I approach everything from the stance of a film historian or as a humanist.

There is a lot of crossdressing and such in giallo, but these are tropes going back to French fin de siècle thrillers of the early 1900s, they don't really have anything to do with homophobia as we perceive it in our time. In the Fantomas novels, Souvestre and Allain (the authors) used to continually deceive their readers by having their characters - the good and the evil ones - change disguises, and sometimes apparently change sexes.

I remember Dario Argento saying that he used homosexual characters in his films because he was interested in their problems. He seldom actually explored their problems, and their portrayal in his earliest films is… quaint, to be kind about it… but it was a positive change as time played out. I think the fact that Argento’s flamboyant style attracted gay fans brought them more into his orbit and the vaguely sinister gay characters of his early films become more three dimensional and sympathetic later on, so in that regard his attention to such characters charts his own gradual embracing of them. So in a sense they chart his own widening embrace of the world, which is surprising considering what a misanthropic view of the world he presents.

THE CHISELER: But Giallo is roughly contemporaneous to the rise of Second Wave Feminism. Like the Michael & Roberta Findlay 'roughies', this is not a fossilized species of extinct male anger we're talking about here. Women's bodies are the energy of pictorial composition; splayed specifically for the delectation of some very confused and pissed off men in the audience. I know of no exceptions. To me it makes perfect sense to recognize the ritualized stabbings, stranglings, the BDSM hijinks in Giallo as rather obvious symptoms of somebody's not-so-latent fear and hatred.

Tim Lucas: I think that’s a modernist attitude that was not all that present at the time. Once the MPAA ratings system was introduced in late 1968, all genres of films got stronger in terms of graphic violence and language, and suspense thrillers were no exception. At the time, women and gay people were feeling freer, freer to be themselves, and were not looking for new ways to be taken out of films, however they might be represented. Neither base really had that power anyway at that time, but at any rate it wasn’t a time for them to appear more conservative. That would come at a later period when they felt more assured and confident in their equality. Throughout the 1960s, even in 1969 films like THE WRECKING CREW and BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, you can see that women are still playthings of a sort in films; there are starting to be more honest portrayals of women in films like HUD, but the prevailing emphasis of them is still decorative, so it makes sense that they would be no different in a thriller setting. There’s no arguing, I don’t think, that the murder scenes become more thrilling when the victim is a beautiful, voluptuous woman. It’s nothing to do with misogyny but rather about wanting to induce excitement from the viewer. If you look back to Janet Leigh’s character arc in PSYCHO, the exact same thing happens to her, but because she’s a well-developed character and time is given to explore that character and her goals and motivations, there is no question that it is a role women would want to play, even now. However, the same simply isn’t true of most giallo victims, which should not be seen as one of their rules but as one of their faults. In BLOOD AND BLACK LACE, I think Mario Bava shows us just enough of the women characters for us to have some investment in their fates - but when the giallo films are in the hands of sausage makers, you’re going to feel a sense of misogyny. It may be real but it may also be misanthropy or a more commercial mandate to pack more into a film and to sex it up. I should add that, because I’m not a woman or gay, I don’t bring personal sensitivities to these things, so I see them as something that just comes with the territory, like shoot-outs in Westerns. If you were to expunge anything that was objectionable from a giallo film, wouldn’t it be just another cop show or Agatha Christie episode? You watch a giallo film because, on some level, you want to see something with the hope of some emotional or aesthetic involvement, or with the hope of being outraged and offended. There is no end of mystery entertainment without giallo tropes, so it’s there if you demand that. Giallo films aren’t really about who done it, only figuratively; they are lessons in how to stage murder scenes and probably would not exist without the master painting of PSYCHO’s shower scene, which they all seek to emulate.

THE CHISELER: You mentioned Val Lewton earlier. Personally, I've never encountered anything like the overall tone of his films. There's always something startling to see and hear. Would you shed a little light on his importance?

Tim Lucas: He's an almost unique figure in film in that he was a producer yet he projected an auteur-like imprint on all his works. The horror films for which he's best known are not quite like any other films of their kind; I remember Telotte's book DREAMS OF DARKNESS using the word "vesperal" to describe the Lewton films' specific atmosphere - a word pertaining to the mood of evening prayer services, which isn't a bad way of putting it. I've always loved them for their delicacy, their poetical sense, their literary quality, and their indirectness - which sometimes co-exists with sources of florid garishness, like the woman with the maracas in THE LEOPARD MAN. In THE SEVENTH VICTIM, one shy character characterizes the heroine's visit to his apartment as her "advent into his world," and when I first saw it, I was struck by the almost spiritual tenderness and vulnerability of that description. Lewton was remarkable because he seems to have worked in horror because it was below the general studio radar, which allowed him to make extremely personal films. As long as they checked the necessary boxes, he could make the films he wanted - and I think Mario Bava learned that exact lesson from him.

THE CHISELER: I've always been fascinated by a question which is probably unanswerable: Why do you think it is that movies based on Edgar Allan Poe stories — even those films that only just pretend to sink roots in Poe, offering glib riffs on his prose at best — invariably bear fruit?

Tim Lucas: Poe's writings predate the study of human psychology and, to an extent, chart it - so he can be credited with founding a wing of science much like Jules Verne's writings were the foundation of science fiction and, later, science fact. Also, from the little we know of Poe's personal life, his writing was extremely personal and autobiographical, which makes it all the more compelling and resonant. It's also remarkably flexible in the way it lends itself to adaptation - there is straight Poe, comic Poe, arty Poe, even Poeless Poe. It helps too that a lot of people familiar with him haven't read him extensively, at least not since school, or think they have read him because they've seen so many Poe movies. The sheer range of approaches taken to his adaptation makes him that much more universal.

It also occurs to me that people are probably much more alike internally than they are externally, so the identification with an internal or first person narrator may be more immediate. But it's true that his work has inspired a fascinating variety of interpretation. You can see this at work in a single film: SPIRITS OF THE DEAD (1968), which I’ve written an entire book about. It’s three stories done by Roger Vadim, Louis Malle, and Federico Fellini - all vastly different, all terribly personal expressions of the men who made them.

THE CHISELER: Speaking of Poe adaptations, I've long thought it's time to confront Roger Corman's legacy; as an artist, a producer, an industrial muse, everything. Sometimes I think he's the single most important figure in cinema history. And if that's a wild overstatement, I could stand my ground somewhat and point out that no one person ever supported independent filmmakers with such profound results. It's as though he used his position at a mainstream Hollywood studio to open a kind of Underground Railroad for two generations of film artists. He gave so many artists a leg up in a business where those kinds of opportunities were never exactly abundant that it's hard to keep track. Entering the subject from any angle you like, what are your thoughts on Corman's overall contribution to cinema?

Tim Lucas: I can think of more important filmmakers than Corman, but there has never been a more important producer or mogul or facilitator of films. I said this while introducing him on the first of our two-night interview at the St. Louis Film Festival’s Vincentennial in 2011. He was largely responsible for every trend in American cinema during its most decisive quarter century - 1955 through 1980, and to some extent a further decade still, which bore an enormous influx of talent he discovered and nurtured. People talk about Irving Thalberg, Darryl F. Zanuck, Steven Spielberg, etc. - but their productions don’t begin to show the sheer diversity of interests that you get from Corman’s output. He has no real counterpart. I’ve spent a lot of the past 20 years musing on him, first as the protagonist of a comedy script I wrote with Charlie Largent called THE MAN WITH KALEIDOSCOPE EYES, which Joe Dante has optioned. A few years ago, I decided to turn the script into a novel, which is with my agent now. It’s about the time period before, during, and after the making of THE TRIP (1966). It's a comedy but one with a serious, even philosophical side.

You know, Mario Bava once described himself to someone as “the Italian Roger Corman.”  It’s incredible to me that Bava would have said that, not because it’s wrong or even because he was a total filmmaker before Corman made his first picture, but because Bava has been dead for so long! He’s been gone now almost 40 years and Roger is still making movies. And he’s been making movies for the DTV market longer than anybody, so he sort of predicted the current exodus of new movies away from theaters to streaming formats.

THE CHISELER: Are there any other producers/distributors you'd care to acknowledge, anyone that you think has followed in what you might call Corman’s Tradition of Generosity?

Tim Lucas: No, I really think he is incomparable in that respect. I do think it’s important to note, however, that I doubt Roger was ever purely motivated by generosity of spirit. I don’t think he would put money or his trust in anyone merely as a favor. He’s a businessman to his core and his gambles have always been based on projects that are likely to improve on his investment, even if moderately. I have a feeling that the first dollar he ever made is still in circulation, floating around out there bringing something new into being. I also don’t think he would give anyone their big break unless they had earned that break already in some respect. And when he does extend that opportunity, he’s got to know that, when these people graduate from his company, he’ll be sacrificing their talent, their camaraderie, maybe even in some cases their gratitude. So yes, there is some generosity in that aspect - but he also knows from experience that there are always new top students looking to extend their educations on the job. I wish more people in the film business had his selflessness, his ability to recognize and encourage talent. It may be his greatest legacy.

THE CHISELER: You introduced me, many years ago, to Mill of the Stone Women — I'll end on a personal note by thanking you and asking: Would you share an insight or two about this remarkable gem, particularly for readers who may not have seen it?

Tim Lucas: MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN was probably my first exposure to Italian horror; I saw it as a child, more than once, on local television and there were things about it that haunted and disturbed me, though I didn't understand it. Perhaps that's why it haunted and disturbed me, but the image of Helfy's hands clutching the red velvet curtains stayed with me for decades (a black and white memory) until I got to see it on VHS - I paid $59.95 for the privilege because my video store told me they would not be stocking it. It's a very peculiar film because Giorgio Ferroni wasn't a director who favored horror; the "Flemish Tales" that it's supposedly based on is non-existent, a Lovecraftian meta-invention, and it's the only Italian horror filmed in that particular region in the Netherlands. It looks more Germanic than Italian. I’m tempted to believe Bava may have had a hand in doing the special effects shot, which look like his work, but they might also have been done by his father Eugenio, as he was also a wax figure sculptor so would have been good to have on hand. He seldom took screen credit. So it's a film that has stayed with me because it's elusive; it's hard to find the slot where it belongs. It's like an adult fairy tale, or something out of E.T.A. Hoffmann. I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve wasted, trying to find another movie with the unique spell cast by that one.

[brothermouzongaming]

Devil May Cry 5 review

This very much follows the guidelines of your typical DMC game which confounds me as to how that manages to be more good than bad. Stagnation is never a positive mark but come to think of it, DMC isn't the franchise that pumps a title out every year or every other year for that matter. So following the steps that made the IP successful to begin with isn't exactly something to fault. To go even further, I’d say it’s a little refreshing in the old school approach it takes to gameplay loop and presentation. It reminds me of how the previous generations felt while keeping me locked in the present with the gorgeous graphics and art direction. The gameplay expertly straddling the old and new gaming worlds in an intoxicating concoction of nostalgia and realization of what modern gaming can be.  Combat overall is timing and direction based due to the one button controls. It forces the player to splinter their command concepts, throwing away the convention of light, medium, and heavy attacks. Your variation comes in the direction of the left stick in combination with the spacing between button presses, and even whether or not you’re locked on. Your melee, projectile, and special buttons are spread out in the typical DMC fashion and this alone is very unique to this series. It seems like a lot because the control scheme doesn’t coddle the player and in many ways demands quite a bit from them. Especially when this game is meant to be played at the speed of two hummingbirds fucking. (Also, anyone else's hands get tired af after a battle? Or am I just old now...)   

Nero to Hero Boy-wonder is all over the place with frenetic and quick movements that take him from enemy to enemy or more interestingly: bringing enemies to him one by one. The grapple arm is great, on the lighter enemies (most of them) it pulls them to Nero, however, the largebois work as anchors and pulls Nero toward them. Each devil-breaker is unique and even when some may seem niche, at least they have a purpose when they were put into the game. There's a lot of layers when throwing in not just what you like and when you want to whip it out, but which ones you don’t mind burning should the situation arise. The devil-breakers have a main function and an alternative mode with one even having a third ability (Punch Line’s missile-hoverboard feature). My only real problem with Nero’s mechanics is that we can’t rotate through the holster to pick which breaker we want to use next in-game. Other than that, Exceed moves spice up the swordplay and bouncing around the arena never losses it's feeling of excitement and sense of raw power. V is for Vanity Everyone's combat comes with a level of understanding and familiarity even if you've seen nothing but cutscenes and gamers playing. V shakes up the gameplay and the mindset of the player which was jarring at first, but in time I would gain these moments of clarity where I'm this maestro of chaos orchestrating from afar as the battle plays out before me. The demonic bird handles projectiles while an equally demonic Jaguar (...Panther...?) that is your melee attack. With an Ogre like Devil Trigger that lays waste to everything in the arena. It's clear and understandable why he's so divisive given these “hands off” aspects but it's just as over the top as the rest of the series so it doesn't feel out of place. It’s well designed so much to the point of almost being too easy but again like the specific devil-breakers: V is different from the ground up and it’s done to freshen up the experience. A commendable act especially when it really seems to be an honest go at it and less than an idea they threw in last second. There are issues with commands and some not working exactly as you think but with adjustments to the way you play it becomes smooth and fun in no time again. Back to V being dipped in hyperbolic angst: reading his own poetry refills his meter and it sounds like the angriest high schooler wrote it, but again, it's how aggressively everything is leaned into that gives it the charm. Also, V definitely has the best "sprint" feature. He hovers on this little nimbus cloud of black thoughts and Pierce the Veil lyrics it's so cute.   Dante’s Inferno The top shelf killer, Nero is close with his arsenal, but Dante's is the most varied and honestly the most fun. I've encountered few things more satisfying than Lu Kang combo-ing the shit out of two demons to seamlessly switch to your motorcycle dual ax and eviscerate whatever remains of the crowd. It’s so intoxicating I can honestly name on one hand how many other games gave me this feeling (Spider-man 2, Far Cry 3, God of War, and Halo 2). Four styles of combat change most weapon move sets and this keeps the player at the edge of their seat all while the ride remains smooth as butter. Between guns and other projectile launchers as well as the handful of weapons all very diverse in functionality and performance, there’s almost too much to thoroughly use in a single level playthrough. Of all the levels, I’m constantly throwing myself back into Dante’s to see just how smokin and sexy my style can be.  Final thots After the learning curve is conquered, the flow and style of combat are entirely dictated by you the player. This combat is the shining achievement of this series and this iteration of it may be the best yet. The camera does a good job of managing the angles on its own and with little attention, it lacks almost all jank and assists the experience more than competently. Levels are bog-standard but what they do offer past the intro missions are many alternate routes and passages that lead to item discoveries, secrets, and combat scenarios you will otherwise miss if you barrel along the main path forsaking all others. I really enjoy how brave this game is for being itself in a world where every game needs some crazy intrusive online feature or component that stifles or gets in the way of the core game’s potential. The most of DMC5′s online capabilities begin and end with the cameo system, something that drops other players into your level at specific times to assist you or mainly just to look at and watch them do their thing. It’s not intrusive and is even exciting when the action starts to heat up and you and another player are cutting everything in the room to ribbons. I almost want more of it, and that’s what a well-implemented feature can do. 

Concerning red orbs mentioned in my demo post, Capcom went with the confusing decision to load us up with orbs and means of getting them in the main game; only to give us the option to pay for more whenever the need arises. Why Capcom? This game has next to no blemishes but this is one minor one in my book, but I can understand why anyone would look past it. This, however, is my biggest peeve: locking so many of Nero's alternative busters behind the ultimate edition or whatever, made me sigh disappointingly. Why couldn't it have at least been the option to unlock those immediately while other players can grind for them like...everything else in the game... To me, it just goes to show that oldboi Capcom is still lurking in the shadows somewhere looking to nickel and dime us at every dark alley it finds us in. At least this $60 dollar product is one I'm still proud to own. This goes in my “GOTY contenders” folder honestly and I have been having an absolute blast with DMC5 and can’t suggest it enough. Even if it’s your first in the series just do it they have a catch-up cinematic you can watch. Seriously. Play it, pull that fucking devil trigger.

tl;dr 8.5/10

#Devil May Cry 5 #DMC5 #Capcom #video games #gaming

[sxcrifico]

So it begins...

Shoutout to Joann ( @dominiclawrence ) for channeling her inner Crowley for me <3

Where worlds collide, blood divides When darkness falls, fate calls This winter breath, taste of death Where iron meets flesh, we'll take it all

Date: 06/09/2018.  TIme: 02:53 am.  Location: Concordia Cemetery, El Paso, Texas

The crescent moon was high in the night sky, peeking between the tree branches to offer a sliver of light for the demon currently perched on a headstone. The Concordia Cemetery was an interesting cemetery with its history and hauntings, ghosts lurking behind every tombstone. There was a reason for Dante’s coming to El Paso, Texas. Sharing a border with Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, the murder capital of the world, the area was a hot spot for demons and over time, the demonic energy seeped into El Paso, making it the borderland of Hell. And there, in Concordia Cemetery, was where the notorious killer, Richard Ramirez, had opened up pseudo-portal to hell. It was also here that Dante planned on bringing a conclusion to his schemes. 

The branches of the tree tangled and intertwined up, resembling the three prongs of the devil’s pitchfork, creating a spider web of moonlight over the sigil. The demon was alone, save for a few ghosts that wandered down the walkway. He had no worries of anyone interrupting him and soon enough, he wouldn’t have any other worries. He placed the bowl down on the centre of the sigil, the contents consisting of dried herbs and fruits. Standing up, he dusted the dirt off his clothes and glanced down at the ritual. He produced a small flame at his fingertip, the yellow hue adding some colour to the silver light of the moon. The flame danced atop his fingers for a moment, hopping from one digit to the next before Dante flicked it into the bowl. The contents burned, providing a fruity aroma to the surrounding area. 

“Ding! You called?” The suave British voice pierced through the silence of the night, the fruity aroma replaced by a sulfuric stench as the ruler of Hell made his appearance. “I did. I needed a favour and you’re the right prick for the job.” It was a bit of playful banter, just something to relieve the tension and defuse any suspicions the King would have, which he rightfully should. The two of them were, at best, mere acquaintances. There was a brief period of time where their paths may have crossed but that was centuries ago; before Crowley, or Dante, had even dreamed of holding the throne. 

“I do love when you talk dirty, darling. But buy me a drink before we talk about these ‘favours’ of yours,” the ruler said, a devilishly charming grin on his lips. Dante couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, both at the continued banter and Crowley’s oblivion to the situation at hand. While word of Dante’s plans spread throughout Mystic Falls, clearly no one had thought of telling the ruler. Either the town was extremely stupid or smart enough to know not to mess with Dante; he had certainly proved that with Aurora. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time for drinks,” Dante said with a tilt of his head, the seriousness of the situation seeping out from the banter they were previously exchanging. “This is a rather... urgent favour.”

''Patience is a virtue,” the king quipped before he questioned, “what is it you want?'' Dante shuffled to his left, the flaming bowl remaining between the two demons. “You see, some of us aren’t happy with the way things have been run lately.” The ‘us’ in his statement was referring the congregation of demons that didn’t like having Crowley on the throne. It was a large following, larger than those that wanted the current king to stay. And of those planning to overthrow the ruler, they had elected Dante to take his place.

“Specifically, the lack of leadership,” Dante continued as he crouched down. He reached behind the headstone he was previously perched on and pulled out a burlap sack.  ''Lack of leadership?” the ruler said in disbelief.  “From who? Me?” He didn’t give the other a chance to interject before he continued on his rant. “Because I am bloody Crowley! The King of Hell! I do what I want when I want. I lead how I want and when I want. I was born to direct!” the king exclaimed. 

Dante stood up with the burlap sack dangling in his hand. He could see the anger on the ruler’s face, the insult clear on his face. But there wasn’t anything he would be able to do to stop what happened next. Dante had come too far to turn away now, all he could do was move forward. “And your time in the monarchy has come to an end,” Dante mused as he raised the sack, tipping the contents over and into the flaming bowl. The pile of bones that collected caused the flames to grow and rage, ambers spraying up into the night sky. Crowley stared at the flames before looking at Dante with amusement in his eyes. “That’s all?” he said, letting out a chuckle. But soon, Dante would be the one left laughing as Crowley’s vessel suddenly caught on fire. The once porcelain bones were blackened by the flames and in a few moments, would be reduced to a pile of ashes, their owner following suit. 

The grass where Crowley once stood was burnt and dead, a small pile of ashes that were once the former king’s vessel. Satisfied with his work, Dante gathered his belongings and prepared to make his leave for the final step in his plan. But it was the position of the moon in the night sky that made him stop. Taking a glance at the watch his sported on his wrist, he let out a small chuckle. 3am, the Devil’s hour. How ironic. In a similar fashion to Crowley’s arrive, the stench of sulfur filled the air as the demon disappeared. 

Date: 06/09/2018.  Time: 2:23pm.  Location: Karakum Desert, Turkmenistan

Dante stood at the edge of the flaming crater, watching as the tourists around him snapped pictures of the spectacle. The Gates of Hell, as the locals would call it. A burning inferno of natural gas.  It was an awe to humans but for demons, the name was literal. Years ago, when the phenomenon first appears, it would be used as a means for demons to travel between the two dimensions. And now Dante stood there, the king of Hell a pile of ashes back in El Paso and the throne empty. But not for long. The demon ignored the tourists that grabbed for him as he took a step forward. And another one, until there was no ground beneath him and the demon fell into the crater. The humans watched in confusion and horror as the body disappeared from the earth. 

The world would speculate on the mystery that was this apparent suicide, on who the man was and what his reasoning for doing so would be. But in Hell, the realm would be undergoing some changes, a new face now wearing the crown. 

Everyone, bow before your king.

#self para #did i basically steal my intro from a ghost adventures episode? yes. yes i did #am i ashamed? no. no im not #i also wrote half of this like a month ago and the other half just now after 3 beers #so if something doesnt make sense ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

HEADCANON PT. I — CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE.

( graphic credit: @helpfulrps​ )

❀ BASICS

Full Name

YASMIN ( yaz-meen ) → Variant of the name ‘Jasmine,’ which is derived from the name of the jasmine flower. || Just as Persephone spent half the year on earth and the other half in the Underworld, jasmine flowers bloom only from spring until autumn. In Pakistan, garlands of white jasmine and red roses are worn by both the bride and groom in weddings, and are also used in burial garlands to symbolize a final farewell. I think that’s fitting, considering how Persephone was married to the god of Underworld and ruled the land of the dead alongside him.

NAJM ( nuh-jhm ) → An Arabic word meaning ‘star.’ || Persephone has always been one of my favorite figures in mythology because of how she has control over both life and death; for half the year she brings life and bounty to the land, and the other half she escorts the souls of the dead in the Underworld. Science and mythology don’t often mix, but I had the life cycle of stars in mind when picking out Yasmin’s surname. When a large star goes into supernova, the shockwave can initiate star formation in other interstellar clouds, and the remains of the core can form a neutron star or a black hole. So going back to all that life & death symbolism, it’s just beautiful to know that the result of the original star’s destruction is the birth of something new.

Any Nicknames?

As of right now, only Persephone & Yas. Victoria might sometimes refer to her as “brat,” but that’s not necessarily out of affection.

Age

23

Birthday / Zodiac Sign

March 21st, 1994 / Pisces

Spinning lazy circles around her latest conquest, acquisition, or interest, the Piscean woman is a mysterious, sensual mermaid, her secrets kept secure behind inscrutable dark eyes. She has a vivid mind, and is romantic and spiritual. Like the rivers and seas this sign swims in, Piscean women have deep emotions and strong undertows in their personalities, so watch out for still waters – they often hide a passionate, sensitive nature.

Spiritual, curious, and gentle, the Pisces woman is a true dreamer. She puts a great deal of emphasis on the unseen in her life, whether it be her own intuition, her emotions, or the world of spirituality and religion. This is a woman who is always looking for – and finding – deeper meaning, from the grand scheme of life itself to her own social interactions. She absorbs the events around her, making connections that other people would never even see. She observes patterns in the feelings and actions of other people, and can be quite insightful as to what motivates them.

Pisceans are often artists, expressing their inner passions through paint, dance or song. Their work is often whimsical and outlandish, but always enchanting.

She is sensitive and caring and considers the needs of others. This imaginative and dreamy woman must determine how she will swim through life: with the flow or against it. Pisceans are kind to their friends – and strangers. At any gathering, the Pisces woman will either be the shy one in the corner who will listen to people’s problems or the outgoing greeter who warmly welcomes each individual. It all depends on her current mood!

Pisces is ruled by dreamy Neptune, and her intuition runs deep. Like the stormy sea, her emotions are complex and changeable. Her challenge is to discern between essential truths of spirit and mere mirage.

Height

5′6″ / 167.64 cm

Tattoos / Piercings

Had her earlobes pierced on her eleventh birthday, and got her belly button pierced when she was seventeen (though DEMETER didn’t find out about it until she was nineteen).

Wants to get a tattoo, but has no idea of what she wants. Has a journal solely for doodles and designs that she’d possibly like to have inked on her skin, but is never 100% certain of what she wants.

❀ FAVORITES

Sound(s)

A saxophone being played in the midst of a crowded subway station. A bass after it has just been tuned. Birds chirping in the morning, crickets crooning in the evening. An old Billie Holiday record played at a dinner party. Her girlfriends’ collective chatter after a good show. Fish frying in the pan after a long day. Dante’s voice waking her up at the crack of dawn. Harvey’s booming applause at the end of her set. DEMETER’s storytelling voice. Hyas’ immediate bark at the sight of her face. Syrus’ laughter over the phone.

Color

A vibrant green; New York fauna in spring, evergreen trees during Christmas, fresh vegetables at the farmer’s market, the herbs growing on her windowsill, leaves of the potted plants on all her shelves, the vines growing across her building’s exterior, the organic juice she makes every morning, her venus flytrap in the sunlight.

Person

Her godparent, DEMETER. They’re the one person who has never left their side, willingly or unwillingly. They have given her everything and so much more, and there is nothing Yasmin wouldn’t do for them. Even while knowing all the unseemly things they have done for Olympus (and aware that what she knows isn’t even all of it), Yasmin’s faith in them is unwavering. That’s why every small act of betrayal she commits - whether it’d be about her dreams of leaving New York or the misplaced feelings of sympathy she knows she shouldn’t have - feels like a dagger in her own heart.

Memory

The first time she sang in front of an audience. She was only eight, and had a solo for her school choir. It was such a simple show but it impacted her in such a profound way, that nothing else compares. It’s one of the few memories she doesn’t have tied to the gang, and has no bittersweetness or sorrow attatched to it. It was her singing for her school, for DEMETER sitting in the front row. It was the beginning of many more memorable performances, piano and voice lessons, rounds of applause. It’s when she discovered she had a special power, one that could potentially help heal. It was the first time she found a purpose, a cause, a passion. It helped shape her identity, and the rest is history.

Place

Central Park. Specifically, the Conservatory Garden.

Vice

Lying. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, but Yasmin has found herself to be so good at it, and willing to manipulate for her advantage. With DEMETER, with Syrus, with herself - it’s easy and it’s how she gets through each day.

❀ HAVE THEY EVER…

…been in love?

Often, and deeply. Yasmin has been a tiny bit in love with every person she’s ever been in a relationship with; the measure of that love just varies with each person. Yasmin loves being in love, and even when she attempts a “no strings attatched” relationship, a small part of her will stubbornly fall in love with that person. She’s incapable of being with someone without feelings involved. Even if her heart is broken in the end, she’ll never be able to fully shake off the bit of her that was in love with that person.

…done drugs?

( DRUG MENTION CW )

Nothing stronger than pot, and she only smokes that socially. Harvey always gave Yasmin strict lectures about staying away from drugs as a child, and given his profession she found it both somewhat ironic and completely understandable. His attempts to scare her straight were effective, and she quickly gets turned off by people who depend on drugs or are frequently not sober.

…killed someone?

Has accidentally crushed insects, unintentionally allowed her plants to wilt, and ended up flushing her gold fish down the toilet. She was the only one who mourned for those lives lost, but aside from those deaths her hands remain clean.

…betrayed someone’s trust?

Only to the people she cares for. When DEMETER risked everything to keep her safe, she’d sneak out through her window and put herself in harm’s way. 

…had their heart broken?

Just as often as she’s allowed herself to fall in love, she’s been hurt as well. A piece of her heart chips away every time she loses a loved one, when she sees Frankie in the streets and dares to think of what could have been, when she notices that DEMETER isn’t being completely honest with her.

…lost someone?

If Yasmin had to sit and list every single person she’s lost, she’d break down before even making it halfway through all the names. Growing up within the gang means that she’s gotten too used to saying goodbye, has gone to more funerals than birthday parties.

❀ DO THEY…

…have any pets?

No, although she loves animals. Yasmin often cares after the strays in her neighborhood, leaving food outside and making sure that they end up finding a place at no-kill shelters. She also has a birdhouse right outside her window, which is often occupied by a family of sparrows throughout the year. Yasmin has also gotten familiar with Richard’s dog Hyas, much to the Titan’s chagrin.

…have a family they still talk to?

Has no living blood relatives, but Yasmin has never believed that blood makes family. DEMETER raised her, and Yasmin could never cut them out of her life. Even on days when she’s furious with her godparent, she still makes sure to keep in touch with them and is never more than a subway ride away. Her greatest fear is the day when DEMETER completely stops responding to her, because Yasmin knows it would never be by choice.

Although her relationship with Richard is still fragile and new, Yasmin believes that he has a place in her family tree. In some weird way, they’re almost siblings, and after losing so many of her family members there is no way she is going to take him for granted. Although she doesn’t know much about his relationship with Harvey, she is determined to get to know him.

…have a best friend?

Five of them. Yasmin has her own small gang of female musicians, who play with her at The Warehouse. They call themselves The Sirens, though they’ve made no effort to trademark the name and are happy to just play music on street corners.

Chell, the pianist who is also a full-time physics student at New York University. The rest of the girls suspect she might have made a deal with a demon a long time ago, or was created in a lab, because she manages to keep a 4.0 while juggling the band and an active social life simultaneously. Chell claims that she just knows how to manage he schedule, but The Sirens have seen the inside of her day planner and it is terrifying. No one knows when she sleeps, if ever.

Reyna, the bassist and makeup artist. Dropped out of high school the second she turned eighteen and went straight to cosmetology school instead. She always said she works best with a makeup brush in her hand instead of a pencil, and wears a different kind of look every day. Has the most Instagram followers out of anyone else in the band, mostly due to her mini makeup tutorial videos and professional selfie skills.

Fatima, the drummer seeking an early death. The daredevil of the group, giving the other girls a heart attack whenever she sends them a video of her dangling off the edge of a cliff or willingly jumping out of an airplane. Perhaps the most resilient member of the group, as Fatima always jumps back on her feet the second she’s able, no matter how much her doctors urge her to rest (Fatima claims that word isn’t in her vocabulary). She’ll often be up on stage with a cast or bandage somewhere on her body, and it’s almost a miracle she can still play.

Mariana, the saxophonist and amateur psychic. Has always claimed to have a connection to the other side, after she saw the ghost of her pet hamster when she was seven. Carries a stack of tarot cards with her everywhere, and her complicated pre-show ritual (which involves burning sage) has gotten the band kicked out of several venues. Though to be fair, they do perform exceptionally well on the nights she manages to complete it. 

…want to get married and/or have kids?

Getting married would be wonderful, but also not necessary. Yasmin was definitely one of those girls who made their own little wedding scrapbook, but all she really wants is to grow old with someone she loves.

Kids, on the other hand, are a more complicated matter. If Yasmin was certain that she’d live a long life in a safe place far from New York, then she’d adopt as many kids as she possibly could. However, she knows that there are no certainties in life, and doesn’t want to raise a child in her world.

…want to leave?

It’s her greatest secret, one she could never say out loud, not even to herself. Leaving New York has never been an option, only a fantasy. It’d be selfish to abandon her godparent and all that they’ve done for her, to turn her back on Harvey’s empire and the family that she’s grown up with. And yet, she wants nothing more than to do just that. Cast aside the Olympians, go off on her own, and see what the world has to offer. In another world, she’d be singing for an different audience every night, standing on a stage in a new country.

❀ THIS OR THAT?

PHONE CALL or TEXT?

It’s difficult to convey everything with just words, and phone calls feel so much more personal. Yasmin will only send a text if she’s unable to take a call, and most of her text logs consist of sent photographs and voice memos. It’s much harder to convey tone and meaning through text, although emojis are a lot of fun. At the end of the day, Yasmin would much rather talk to someone instead of tiring her fingers out.

WEALTH or LOYALTY?

Yasmin was fortunate enough to never have to worry about money. And in the end, her bohemian ideals trump materialism regardless. If she has to live a starving artist stereotype in exchange for companions who will stand by her through it all, then so be it. Yasmin would gladly give up all the riches in the world in exchange for someone who has proven themselves loyal to her - not just to her godparent, to Olympus, but to her as a person.

LOVE or LUST?

Every time she’s given into lust, she’s left feeling empty. Love hurts tenfold, but she’d rather accept pain than the absence of feeling. In her opinion, there’s nothing better than feeling giddy over a new crush, or falling head over heels. Lust is fleeting, and fades away once the sheets turn cold. Yasmin remembers every person she’s ever been in love with, and cherishes even the heartbreaks.

FIVE FRIENDS or 100 ACQUAINTANCES?

Over the years she’s learned that five can very quickly turn to zero with the blink of an eye. People aren’t made to last, and perhaps she’d be less alone if she was had more people surrounding her. And perhaps it’d hurt less if she wasn’t as close to them when they inevitably left her.

However, Yasmin isn’t sure if she’s capable of just being casually acquainted with someone. She grows attatched quickly and falls deeply, whether she wants to or not.

SUMMER or WINTER?

Although New York summers can be brutal, Yasmin loves the season. It’s a time for sundresses and cold drinks and fresh fruit, and like a flower she thrives under the sun. Though she’s been living in New York all her life, Yasmin doesn’t fare well in cold weather. Her heating bill is astronomical in the winter, and she avoids going outside as much as she can during the colder months. Yasmin has an entire closet full of nothing but winter-wear, thick wool sweaters, quilts, and fuzzy socks. She wears no less than four layers all season, along with a comically large pair of faux-fur ear muffs.

❀ OTHERS

Wanted Plots / Connections

( i’ll make an official page sometime in the future but here are a few stray ideas! )

( KIDNAPPING TW ) This is kind of dark but something akin to Persephone’s abduction, where Yasmin gets kidnapped, though I can’t imagine why anyone would want to do that unless they were out to piss Demeter off. Maybe in the future Yasmin’s curiosity gets the best of her and learns/sees something she probably shouldn’t have, and becomes a liability?

Someone matches with Yas on Bumble and it’s only until halfway through their date do the two of them realize that they’re affiliated with the Olympians/Titans. Awkwardness ensues.

Someone please teach Yasmin how to use a gun.

#olympustalk #ALL MY LOVE TO RED #QUEEN OF GRAPHIC DESIGN AND PHOTOSHOP #go follow her rph!!! she deserves all the love and compliments for this stunning graphic #also lmao if this seems rushed it's bc it is. i just wanted this thing DONE #SOMEPLACE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH — ( HEADCANON )

[stillness-in-green]

Human Debris Masterpost (4/?)

Holy crap, you guys, I have got a lot to say about Episode 13.  The other episodes, somewhat less so.  Shall we?

EPISODE THIRTEEN — Funeral Rites

We pick up where we left off last episode, wherein Masahiro, despite his brief turn to the terrifyingly prophetic, finds himself stricken with a memory of his and his Akihiro’s younger, happier days, and is unwilling to help Kudal with murdering him. He pushes his brother away from Kudal’s blow at the last moment, and Gusion’s hammer has way too much momentum going to turn away, if indeed Kudal would bother to try (unlikely).

Mikazuki is still hot on Kudal’s trail, however, and the brothers are left alone again.  Akihiro doesn’t have a tremendous amount of real mobile suit experience at this point, but with his history piloting mobile workers (coffins on wheels in a fight with a mobile suit) and the simulations run against Lafter, and from the wordless scream he makes as he returns to Masahiro’s side, I suspect he already knows his brother is done for.

We return briefly to the ship infiltration Shino is leading, which does indeed include Dante.  I include this screenshot for two reasons. Firstly to note how much better armored they are this time around—I imagine that since they were specifically trying to keep their clash with the Turbines as bloodless as possible, as they’d been planning to ask for Teiwaz’s help, they geared up as lightly as they could to keep themselves light and mobile.  Here, on the other hand, there’s no such need to hold back, so they’re wearing the bulky armor.  Secondly, and completely unrelated to the scope of this project, to note that yes, just like his mobile worker and every mobile suit he gets his grubby hands on, Shino has painted his helmet visor pink.  Ryuusei-go Mk. 1.5, perhaps?  (This does mean that the shot from the last post that I thought was Dante was indeed Shino; the visor was pink there, too.)

The two of them and the rest of the team find a group of red-stripes cowering in a dark room, glowering and braced to get shot to pieces.  And here I’ll point out something that I somehow missed in the previous episode—all of the Brewers’ Human Debris are still wearing a manacle on their left wrists. These kids, Masahiro’s group, even the ones on the bridge—every one of them whose left wrist is visible (it doesn’t show under the long sleeves and gloves of their flight suits, for example) has a huge chunk of metal fastened around their wrist.  I wish we had just a little more context for this so we could guess at whether the Brewers or CGS are a bit more “typical” of red-stripe existence, because holy hell, CGS was bad, but at least Akihiro and the others there weren’t actively shackled.  Something to keep an eye out for when we get to the Dawn Horizon Corps stuff in the second season.

In any case, Shino gives them a few pacifying lines and heads on his way, waving his group after him. If the subtitles are to be believed—“It’s all kids here, too,”—it would seen that this is not the first group they’ve found, which might explain why neither Dante nor the other two in Shino’s team show any hesitation at leaving the kids be.  In this case, though, this leniency gets one member of the team immediately killed, when the kids prove to be hiding some fairly heavy duty firearms and very panicky trigger fingers.

Shino freezes, but Dante, in what’s probably one of his more revealing moments, doesn’t even hesitate in swinging back in and unloading the contents of a high-powered magazine into a room full of children in exactly the same child slavery position he himself was once in.

It does make me wonder how much resistance he was expecting the Brewers’ Human Debris to be putting up, though—was he relieved that Shino decided to leave that unseen first group alone, or was he reluctant?  Did he say anything at any point, or keep his opinions to himself mid-mission? Whatever the case was, this is a shockingly dark thirty seconds of screentime, though as ever, the show doesn’t linger on it.   

We return instead to space, where Akihiro has left his mobile suit and is trying to reach Masahiro in the latter’s crushed cockpit.

Masahiro, despite having saved Akihiro’s life in an almost involuntary spasm of remembered love, remains fatalistic, bringing up Derma’s reincarnation story, and his certainty that Debris like him die in space, asking if Akihiro understands now. Akihiro, of course, protests, yelling that Masahiro will be reborn and will come back to their home.  I have difficulty believing Akihiro’s even thought much about such things before now; this sounds very much like he’s just desperate to give his brother even a scrap of hope in his dying moments, and will seize on anything presented to him to do so. 

Masahiro, though I don’t think he believes it, smiles ruefully and says he’ll go first and see, and finally reaches out to take Akihiro’s grasping hand.  In that last moment, too, he switches from “aniki” to “nii-chan” in addressing Akihiro.  He’s been using the former since their reunion, but rewatching Akihiro’s flashbacks, he used the latter when they were children.  “Aniki” is not exactly formal itself—it’s the same word Orga uses to address Naze; it’s kind of boyish and slangy, and frequently heard in the context of gang hierarchy (like, again, Orga and Naze)—but “nii-chan” is far more childish and intimate.  In its usage here, we can see Masahiro allowing Akihiro back into his heart, and perhaps forgiving him, as he passes away.  

The world is full of less-accepting red-stripe children, though, we find as we return to the ship, heralded by the shot of a drifting child’s body and blood in the air, and Shino cursing on the vocal track, wondering why these kids won’t just give up and surrender.  It all seems to go back to a recurring theme in the show’s more frontier organizations—that there is strength in the group you’re with, and even if life with that group can be cruel and unforgiving, it is still life, and therefore more to be trusted and believed in than the uncertainty of trusting outsiders.  

In that regard, if there is one thing I appreciate about Kudan and Brooke Kabayan, the Brewers’ horrible orcish captain, it’s the way their design reflects how completely they’ve thrown off the social mores of the setting.  You see this a bit with the Turbines, with their skimpy clothes and Amida’s loud makeup, and a little bit with Tekkadan, who have hygiene priorities somewhere on the level of Lord of the Flies, but it’s most obvious with the Brewers.  They’ve completely forsaken any chance of being accepted by society, and therefore have rejected any morals society might have about (most obviously) child abuse, and damn if you can’t see that in their design: the extremely dyed hair, the piercings, and some fairly extreme body modification in Kudal’s Joker-esque slash of a mouth and Kabayan’s bizarre nose.  CGS had some transparent villain designs, but Todo and the other First Division guys had nothing on these two.  

Getting back on track, though, we hit the opening—the last episode to feature Raise Your Flag—and we return to a glance at what high society looks like via a fancy party thrown by some combination of the Bauduin and Fareed families.  By the time we get back to the main characters, combat has finally been quelled, absent a few pockets of activity, and we get our last major red-stripe-centric scene of the season. 

Someone—I’d bet on Orga, Biscuit or Chad—has had the good sense to post red-stripe guards around the rounded-up batch of Brewers’ kids. Aston’s in this group, as is Derma, which kind of begs the question of how they were made to stand down from mobile suit combat, particularly given the pure venom in Aston’s eyes here. 

Dante gets about half of a warning out to Orga about them, having just had some up-close-and-personal experience with their willingness to keep fighting even in battles deeply stacked against them. He’s clearly had a bit of time to reflect on it, given his expression here. 

Orga claps a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, though, and gets down on the kids’ level to talk to them, very pragmatically opening up with talk about basics of life like better food than the Brewers are (plainly) providing to these malnourished children. He’s talked to Naze already, and says that Tekkadan will be taking care of the surviving children. 

Derma has the swiftest reaction, looking around while Orga’s still talking, but Aston is the one to openly ask—why?  When we were just now trying to kill you?  Orga reassures them that he knows it was just their jobs, and that it isn’t as if they particularly wanted to do it, right? Aston flares up with a response affirming that he didn’t, that he’d just never thought about it before, for himself. 

We get a few very understanding looks from Chad and Dante as he’s talking— 

—up until Orga cuts him off with by far the nicest spin on Human Debris anyone in the show will ever put forth.

“Born in space, and not scared to die in space.  You’re the proud, chosen ones.” 

And my god, the look Dante is giving him here just kills me.  He’s clearly never heard anything this life-affirming about his existence before, and while the other two Tekkadan red-stripes here (Chad and one of the unnamed ones) take it pretty straight-faced, the kids break down immediately when Orga finishes by saying that Tekkadan welcomes them all. 

Derma actually had tears in his eyes by halfway through this speech, and is the first one to begin audibly weeping, and man, I didn’t realize until this rewatch what a total sweetheart this kid is.  Ugh, I love Derma; I love Derma so much. 

Dante speaks, probably, for the group, thanking Orga for the olive branch, which draws the scene to a close. (I’d been thinking, incidentally, that the one red-stripe with glasses was the third Tekkadan Human Debris here, but we never get a clear look at the unnamed red-stripe’s face here, so I guess I was mistaken.  Ah, well.) 

A bit of bargaining with the defeated Kabayan later, we return to the Hammerhead to discuss what to do with the spoils of victory, after which the conversation turns to the titular funeral rites, and we get a particularly interesting look at the more spiritual side of the setting.  I could talk about it pretty extensively (I, er, kind of have 500 words written up about it that I had to cut out of this post), but it would take us way, way off-topic, so I’ll save it for another time.  

Shino opines that he’d like to hold one of these funeral things, and is seconded by Akihiro.  Both of them are clearly distraught at the idea of the spirits of the dead lingering or suffering, so grab at the idea of a funeral to ease both the dead and, subconsciously, their own consciences. Orga, a bit put-out by it all, nonetheless agrees. He stays on the ship for the event itself, as does Chad, back in his normal place at the helm.  

Akihiro can be seen outside, as well as some kids who might be the Brewers kids or might be Yukinojo’s hangar helper lot—their features in the helmets are too indistinct to say for sure, and they’re shown from an angle that would hide Aston’s scar.  Given their enthusiasm about Yamagi’s flower fireworks, I’m inclined to think they’re the Tekkadan kids, though. 

Much as Shino did before the combat, Eugene goes specifically to Akihiro’s side to offer him a bit of commiseration about the brevity of death compared to the long racket of life, in what’s probably his most openly sensitive gesture in the whole show, and it’s really sweet.  It speaks, I think, to some of the extra-canonical information about Eugene being the leader of the Third Division kids before Orga and Mikazuki started working there—though they interact far less, he clearly has a much less confrontational relationship with Akihiro than he does with Orga.  He keeps his arm around Akihiro’s shoulders for the rest of the sequence.  You can catch a brief look of Dante out on the hull as well, just before the scene ends. 

We close out the red-stripe stuff this episode with Akihiro requesting that Orga let him keep Gusion. He says that he thought about the departed at the funeral, that even those with Tekkadan that he rarely talked to, he has bits and pieces of memories of.  For Masahiro, though, he has only his childhood memories, with the strongest and most recent one now being his brother’s death.  At least, then, he wants to stay together with Masahiro’s memory from now on.   

I’m inclined to call this a pretty strained bit of writing—the advertisers needed another Gundam for the home team, and obviously no one but the Brewers’ ace was going to be piloting any Gundams the Brewers had, so the writers had to come up with some kind of reason for Akihiro to want to keep the specific machine that slew his brother.  What they come up with is—well, it’s pretty morbid, but it’s certainly an interesting bit of characterization!  

I’d love to see more ghost-in-the-machine type fanart for it, though.  

And thus, we reach the end of the Brewers arc.  Thankfully, the next batch of episodes will require far less writing on my part, so lets get right to it, starting with the new opening!  

OP 2 — Survivor

So Dante and Chad are much more prominent in this intro, and it makes me happy.  Where in the first intro, you have to be keeping a pretty close eye out for them, here, they’re much closer to the screen.

In the opening shot, Akihiro is in a separate shot from the other two (reflecting something that will not really be true of the show until the second season), but they’re in the shot immediately following, very clearly displayed.  (I mention this mostly to complain some more about no one seeming to remember who they are, because come on, they’re right there.) 

There’s also this rather nice shot of the three of them in some dimmer area indoors.  More than the more “posed” shots, this one looks very much like something that could have happened, a shot out of some serious conversation they were having among the three of them.  I freely admit, though, that my opinion there is probably colored by how much I wanted to ever see the three of them actually talk amongst themselves about their situation.

If you’re extremely quick with the pause button, you can catch this shot of the bridge during a fast zoom-out from Orga’s face to show the exterior of the Isaribi:

I left out the mecha shots, as I did last time, but here is Akihiro getting shouty, sandwiched between similar shots of Orga, Biscuit, Eugene, Shino, and Atra: 

This opening closes on Kudelia, rather than a group shot, so that’ll be it until the closing.

EPISODE FOURTEEN — Vessel of Hope

We have a brief shot of the bridge crew+Atra looking at the approaching Earth, which it’s very possible none of them but Biscuit have ever seen in person before—even Kudelia, in that conversation with Mikazuki about the moon way back in episode four, only talks about it in secondhand terms, as something she’s heard/read about. 

Akihiro, meanwhile, is hanging out in the Hammerhead bay, watching the Gusion get stripped down and getting lightly poked-at by Lafter who, like the rest of us, is having some trouble processing Akihiro’s decision.  He seems at peace with it, though. 

After dropping off the shopping group, the Isaribi is hailed by a guide ship sent to escort them, the speaker on which calls them young heroes.  Eugene and Chad are puzzled by this designation.   

So, this takes us into the beginning of the Dort Colony material, and one thing I’ll note now is that Dort has no red-stripes on it anywhere.  I suppose it’s possible that the signature red stripe is just much more subtly displayed in the Inner Sphere, but we never see any indication of Human Debris on Earth, either, and this suggests that the practice is largely kept to the Outer Sphere.  I suspect the slave trade is quasi-legal at best, and I’m certain wealthy people from Earth would consider it unsightly.  However, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that there’s a certain amount of illicit slave-trade going on in the Inner Sphere—the sort of thing that we see today in first-world nations, of people being brought to e.g. the United States on false pretenses and then getting locked into menial, ill-paying jobs as personal servants or worse in the homes of the wealthy, threatened with deportation if they try to speak out.   

On a total side note, we do at last begin to see a bit less gender segregation, which is a nice change of pace—Gjallarhorn is 100% dudes with the sole exception of Carta Issue, a special case, and likewise CGS was all-male.  The upper leadership of Teiwaz is entirely male, with certain members actively scorning Naze for “using” women to rise up; the long-distance freight shipping business is, according to Amida and Naze’s flashback, almost entirely done by women.  Dort and Earth are the only places we see a bit more mix—the uprising has the intermittent female face, and the politicians on Earth have, likewise, a few women mixed in. I think there might be a little mix at the agricultural plant Hashmal destroyed, but on the whole, this setting is pretty badly gender-segregated, though comments on it are rare and oblique.

In any case, once the uprising breaks out, Orga contacts Merribit on the ship, where she’s going over the shipment manifesto on the bridge, with Chad hanging out on the helm as usual.   

It strikes me that this is probably the first time Chad’s been alone with Merribit (or, like, any woman ever) in the show, and I wonder if this is where he started developing his (implied in season two) crush on her?  I’ll be keeping an eye out for other openings for this going forward.

Orga tells them to get the blazes out of there, presumably concerned about the whole ship getting compounded, and the two of them comply.  This brings us to the end of the episode, and with it, the new closer.

ED 2 — STEEL ~Iron-Blooded Bonds~

The second intro has a bit more going on in it than the pan-arounds of a single image in the first one, though not more of our red-stripes than one would reasonably expect. Starting off, we have Chad and Dante examining the murals that crop up all over the Isaribi with increasing frequency as the show goes on. Chad has no particular expression, though it’s a little telling, perhaps, that he’s crouched down to look so closely.  Dante, meanwhile, looks pleased enough, smiling slightly as he walks along the hall. 

On an unrelated note, it’s a nice detail that you can see Ride with a paintbrush in the background here. He’s the one who designed the Tekkadan logo to begin with, and is apparently behind a lot of the onboard graffiti, too; I kind of wish the show allowed him a bit more attention for his artistic streak.

Again with the kids (just the normal kids we tend to see hanging around Yukinojo or Kudelia’s reading classes, not the Brewers kids, who’ll have to wait for next season), we get our trio and a Random Brunette red-stripe.  It looks like the kids have finished their own food and came over to chat? I wonder what the topic is?

You can spot the group in this picture in the wide shot that Orga and Mikazuki begin to walk towards at the end, but they’re pretty tiny, and not differently posed than they are here, so lets move on, to…

EPISODE FIFTEEN — Trail of Footprints 

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! As mentioned before, there aren’t any red-stripes (at least not openly marked ones) on Dort, not in the crowd scenes nor in the slums.  Likewise, we didn’t see any of the Isaribi in this episode. In lieu of the usual red-stripe stuff, then, have one small observation about the unusually clever use of non-Japanese language in this show. If you want to read about world-building minutiae, read on.  If not, feel free to skip ahead.

So, this is a bag from a rather upscale-looking clothing and accessory store Kudelia was shopping in while Fumitan and Mikazuki were having their conversation about responsibility. The Dort colonies are a project of the African Union, which like all the show’s economic blocs encompasses a great many places, but the pertinent one to this aside is modern-day France. Lefebvre is a French name—a fairly common surname in the north of the country.  

I did a touch of digging, and turned up a few persons of interest.

This is a French model and actress, one Germaine Hélène Irène Lefebvre.  She’s more commonly known by her stage name Capucine, pictured here in The Pink Panther (1963).  She modeled for Givenchy and Christian Dior, and was close friends with Audrey Hepburn.  I’d consider her to be the most likely in-world reference, though I doubt very much that records of old Hollywood comedies made it out of the Calamity War in anything even vaguely resembling wide circulation.   

Interestingly, though, there is one other Lefebvre who’s significant to the themes and events on Dort—Henri Lefebvre, a French Marxist philosopher and sociologist, active in the mid-1900s.  He had a great deal to say about the problems of capitalism, and how the intersection of autonomy, helplessless, natural bodily rhythms and social routines he called “everyday life” had to be revolutionized, lest rampant consumerism lead to consumptionism, a diminishing quality of life, and a decline in self-expression.

More pertinently, he was a respected professor who both influenced and analyzed an upswelling of civil unrest in 1968, starting with student protests and sit-ins, leading to widespread strikes, and culminating in violent clashes with the police, with suspected undercover police slipped in to provoke protesters.  In the end, the political party in power at the time strengthened their hold on the country, but it did herald a new push for social progressivism.  Sounds a bit like the Dort Uprising and subsequent fallout, no?

As ever, I remain thoroughly impressed with IBO’s canny use of language in the setting.  The grammar, the spelling, even things like general readability of large blocks of text feel very naturalistic, and the deployment of terminology—like the stuff above, but also all of Gjallarhorn’s Norse references, the Gundam naming scheme, and even the consistency of the fishing and nautical names you tend to find associated with the non-Gjallarhorn spaceships. It’s all exceptionally strong worldbuilding.  

In any case, lets move on. We’ve got exactly one relevant scene in the next episode! 

EPISODE SIXTEEN — Fumitan Admoss

Our only bit of red-stripe activity here is Akihiro in the Turbines’ bay, bleeding from the nose and straining against his Alaya-Vijnana hookup.   

Based on what we’ve seen from him to date, I expect Akihiro was planning on spending the Dort visit learning how to handle Gusion by sparring with Lafter in the Turbines’ simulator.  The schedule for being able to do so on demand just got pushed ahead somewhat, so he’s straining under all that Gundam information overload in the same way we usually see pilots reacting the first time they get in a Gundam, especially one that hasn’t been tuned up for their own tolerance levels.  We saw it with Mikazuki early on, with Akihiro here, and there’s another instance I’m looking forward to that we'll be seeing in the next episode.  Look forward to it next time!

#mobile suit gundam: iron-blooded orphans #g tekketsu #gundam ibo #human debris #akihiro altland #chad chadan #dante mogro #masahiro altland #aston altland #derma altland #human debris project #my writing #ibo meta