#the stylist understood the assignment

[joe-mazzello-archive]

i can't believe jq invented fall colors

#the stylist understood the assignment #they knew the hoes love when he's in chestnut brown #shut up regan

[kim-woonhak]

'TOP TIER' MV ✧ PARK WOO JIN

#ab6ix #park woojin #woojin #ab6ix woojin #kflops #hijaehyukkies #useroro #rosieblr #userfairy #wabisarah #flashing tw #*ambiv.gif #i know this came out a week ago but nobody's giffed it yet and i convinced myself to do it in order to remind myself that ab6ix is not dead #but also this is quite literally one of the ugliest mvs ever sorry woojin it's not ur fault bnm is broke #u & stylists understood the assignment for the king character but the rest was so ungiffable and the flashing made me sick </3 #also sorry i added noise to make it even uglier </3 my toxic trait when i gif dark mvs ... maybe i shouldve only done the king gifs lol

[bloodied-serpent]

Shout-out to True Blood season 3 episode 6 for having Talbot yell at everyone in Greek. "Έχασα τα καλύτερα χρόνια της ζωής μου μαζί σου" always goes hard.

The face of "αλλά δεν φταίει κανείς, εγώ φταίω"

#true blood #rewatching it yet again #talbot and russell's dating married divorced thing was so fucking funny #getting killed while getting fucked was so on brand for him even if I loved him as a character #whoever his stylist was they understood the assignment

[nessa007]

halle bailey and margot robbie’s stylists for their huge press tours absolutely understood the assignment 👏

#halle bailey #margot robbie #the little mermaid #barbie #barbie movie #fashion #text post

[nightgoodomens]

I just love the fact that David Tennant has a stylist who knows exactly what he looks the best in (because I agree) and David said “Just make it Crowley” and JK understood the assignment.

What a time to be his fan. 💯💯💯

[sheisalivingchild]

Olivia Rodrigo did a fantastic job with the tbosas credits song. perfect choice to focus on the forest scene for inspiration. we're getting all the symbolic imagery, the drama, the mystery. stylistically, the acoustic guitar complements the movie's diegetic palate. she even multiplies her voice in the final chorus in a way that evokes the mockingjays echoing Lucy Gray's song in the trees! and I give a bonus point for the lyric "you think I'm gone cause I left" which makes me chuckle. A+ literally understood the assignment

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #the hunger games #you can't catch me now #my thoughts

[rainymoodlet]

every outfit you put daniel in is so good. i just spent 3 hours last night furiously googling to find his karaoke outfit & i think i found it, i hope you're proud of me 😈😈😈 his stylist is carrying kmik i think 🤭

this ask coming from you literally made me so over-the-moon, you have no idea - i literally hoarded it in my askbox until the time was Right so i could take these... just for you... (and his wardrobe department understood the assignment okay: they literally just pick a menagerie of clothing and let daniel dress himself from their picks fdjkhf it gives him the ~illusion~ of control) 🤭🤭🤭 thank you so much for this omg, i am sundered and undone

dan will never let the booty shorts and cropped shirts of the 80s die

#ts4 #sim: daniel #;ask #this seriously made me so happy in such a low period with my feelings toward kmik and it made me LAUGH it was so sweet #i really appreciate it honey seriously :') #i am on my desktop so i am WOEFULLY short on emojis but omg #know that i hoarded this to push me forward at many a time okay fkdskjf #FOR UR REWARD... HOE DAN... #he genuinely is so comfortable in shorts and a cropped shirt he does not like his belly!!! covered!!! or his thighs!!! confined!!! #tickles his belly hair #nectar-cellar

[pedropascalito]

I wish we could get back whoever was dressing him in the Narcos era, because they absolutely understood the assignment. The subtle navy and burgundy plaid suit for that late-night show, the premiere suit jacket with the printed lining, that perfectly tailored black suit with white shirt and pocket square that made him look like sex on legs….bless them, wherever they are.

Yes! I have no idea who was styling them, maybe a Netflix stylist, but these suits are gorgeous on him.

Shout out also to Kingsman: Golden Circle stylist, my overall 100% killed it in every interview stylist:

But let’s not forget this masterpiece:

#pedro pascal #ask #fashion #men’s fashion

[calypsos-siren]

Chapter Two - Calypso's Siren

plot: Annie x Finnick, a personal love note to every broken woman out there. I genuinely believe she was strong and capable, and still is, and want to give her a background that honors her.

a/n: it would mean the world to me if you could follow me here for updates on the story, or follow the story on fanfiction.com. I definitely feel like I'm writing into a void sometimes, but I'm in love with this story, I hope you are too.

---------

In the town square, the air carried a tang of salt and acidity, an odd scent that lingered and tangled with the humidity. Despite our efforts to appear stoic, terror gripped us—etched on the face of every child in the crowd, every parent watching from the seats above. If they don't breathe, pray, and watch too closely, maybe their children will return home at dusk.

Scanning the unfamiliar surroundings, I took in the spectacle. This space was rarely used -- except for today's affair. It stands in stark contrast to the rest of our district. District Four embraces modesty, refusing to flaunt riches everywhere, instead taking pride in well-crafted materials. As a Career district, we're already struggling with consistent losses, and this year seems to be a display of force and wealth. Noble statues of revered deities flanked the stage—three men and three women—watching over the tributes we send. Above, intricate nets adorned with fragrant rosemary, daylilies, and regosa roses hung in the air.

My gaze fell on Amae, the Capitol's envoy to District Four. Her attire, a true ode to the Capitol's outlandish fashion, adored lavender this year. It's striking against her dark features—long, tight, dark brown curls framing her face. Styled to resemble the ocean, perhaps a clam? It's always difficult to tell with the Capitol. Amae once appeared with her skin dyed a pastel shade of blue. None of us understood. I rolled my eyes—we weren't born to understand anyway.

Upon closer inspection, more ostentatious elements caught my attention. A gaudy pearl necklace hung around her neck, its luminescence practically screaming for attention. Isn't that all the Capitol wants? The ends of her dress flared out in exaggerated waves, seemingly mimicking the ocean's waves. It confirmed my suspicion that she had been designed around a clam or an oyster. A rush of frustration burned inside, manifesting as a thick layer of crimson settling on my skin.

The image of her, deciding which overused representation of our district to emulate, swirled inside my head. Did she consider mermaids? The vast, undulating ocean itself? Instead, she caked herself with grey and green powder and bedazzled pearls to be a clam. She likely spent hours laughing and musing over which districts would do best with her stylists. Did she ever even consider that children actually will perish? No, of course not, because this is just a Game. A sick, twisted game consisting of people that she will never see again, never pass by the gravestones of parents who took their lives in response. On cue, my attention is broken by the prior victors funneling onto the makeshift stage. They take their place in assigned seats, seven total. The victors never leave the spotlight, as if their lives weren't traumatic enough from the games. Instead, they're paraded around like circus animals, their every move filmed for the Capitol's continued entertainment. Every moment that they slip, every moment that these psychotic lunatics smell blood in the water, they can't help but stare and cast stones. An ode to their superiority. Among them, Finnick Odair sits proud—the youngest winner of the Hunger Games at 14 years old and the Capitol's personal sweetheart. Unfortunately for us, nobody has stood a chance since his win. He is a living embodiment for the remainder of the Careers that District Four stands a chance.

The women's side is less entertaining. Mags Flannigan, the winner of the 11th Hunger Games, is probably the most renowned winner of our district. Her face is kind and warm, though it's obvious that the stylists from the Capitol are starting to struggle to hide her age. She always volunteers to help mentor, which is likely why I'm unable to identify the two women next to her. It's not like I need to; I have no intention of invading the small privacy they're granted.

Amae watches the large clock in the center of the square attentively, her dainty finger reaching out and tapping the mic at exactly 11 AM.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 70th Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor!" The accent sends a shiver down my spine. We're all aware that we'd have a new representative next year if her voice displayed anything but pure joy, but it doesn't make her attitude any easier to swallow.

I look away as she approaches the male tribute's pool of names first. That's right, they pulled the girls last year.

"Oleander Flanagan. Oh, how exciting! It looks like we have a descendent of a victor this year!" Amae lets out a squeal and I think I feel my ears bleed in response.

I'm not sure where he is because my gaze only goes to Mags. She's doing her best to stand tall and proud, but her frail knees begin to shake. When he approaches the stage to shake her hand and accept his position, she turns her face further from the crowd.

Guilt creeps into me slowly, my own body beginning to falter. It would be a shock if there were other names in that crystal bowl other than his; it's unlikely - no - impossible that my theory was wrong. He's a perfect example for them. His built physique screamed Capitol manipulation, a move to make the Games more thrilling. Add in that he belonged to the victor of one of the early games, and it's a game that will cause them to foam at the mouths. I watched, heart pounding, as the odds seemed stacked from the very start.

And then, Amae's tiny footsteps, undoubtedly indicating her struggle to move in her gown, started towards the bowl for the female tribute. She dipped her thin hand in, pausing. The only sound in a mile radius was her jewelry clinking as she pretended to put thought into the draw.

Silence.

"Calypso Ranier. Calypso, where are you my dear?"

Horror clawed its way up my throat, paralyzing me. I felt my sister unraveling several rows back, but the only thing I could hear was the ringing in my ears. Callie is 12 years old and from our impoverished slum. She might weigh 80 lbs soaking wet and could hardly be 5'0. The embodiment of a banshee erupted in the crowd—one that can only be attributed to that of a mother. Where are the volunteers? Someone always volunteers when they're so young in the Career districts.

The Peacekeepers wrapped their arms around her waist, and something inside of me broke. She's so frail, beating tiny fists on their backs as she screamed for her mom. She's going to die, and the only thing that she wants is her mom.

Silently, my arm raised into the air. I couldn't feel it or any part of my body. But I could feel the wind whipping through my fingertips.

"Is that a volunteer?"

I choked, but I couldn't stop staring at Callie's ribcage through her oversized gown. She stopped her parade, her breath beginning to even out.

"Yes, I volunteer as tribute."

It's odd; I can't feel the Peacekeepers pick me up, or the crunching sound that can only be my body being dragged across the concrete. But the ringing is too loud - and I'm not sure. My gaze drifted to my sister, her face a mosaic of anguish and despair. Why did you do this? Her screams racked her body, but the ringing persisted. I wonder if Mag's boy can hear.

I stumbled onto the stage, feeling like a puppet in the Capitol's cruel charade. Isn't that what I am? Every ounce of emotion drained away, leaving behind a numbness that consumed me whole. Was I able to feel either? I reached to touch the hem of my dress, only verifying that it was a miracle to still be standing. The crowd wore solemn faces as Amae announced that District Four has a tribute. Someone shook me, and I think Amae asked for my name.

"Anne. Annie. Cresta," I managed out, hoping that this was the question asked of me. Amae seemed pleased, her whole body bouncing as she began the ending speech. Tonight, she will go home and brag to her friends that she has the most interesting tributes this year.

As they dragged me back into the Justice Building, the weight of history pressed upon my shoulders. How many farewells have the walls soaked in? Stories of shattered dreams, whispered promises that they'll be home soon (they rarely were), and the bitter taste of inevitable loss.

Lost in this grim reflection, I hardly noticed the door burst open, and my sister rushed in. Her eyes, brimming with desperation, met mine, and she wasted no time in expressing her anguish.

"Why did you do that? You were free, Annie. This was it, you had made it." Her screeches confirmed that my hearing was beginning to return, but the ringing still felt like it was vibrating my entire being.

"Callie is twelve. Somebody was supposed to volunteer. Someone always volunteers for the twelve and thirteens. The only reason they were silent is because she's poor. She's us Kaia. Nobody would have stood up for us, but I can stand up for her."

Understanding crossed her face. There wasn't anything to argue — the speech she had prepared rendered useless.

"Annie, you have to try. You have to win," she pleaded, her voice raw from screaming. "You can't give up. You can't let them take you without a fight."

Her words pierced through the numbness that enveloped me, and for a moment, I saw the pain etched in every line of her face. She always looked quite young, she's only a handful of years older than I am, but she looked twenty years older in this moment. Tears soaked her cheeks raw, her hair sticking in wet ringlets to each side.

"I'll do my best," my voice hollow and distant, I know that it belongs to me but it doesn't sound familiar. "But you know the odds. It's likely rigged for Mag's great-grandson to win. What a show that would be." I let out a sarcastic, hoarse laugh. Kaia doesn't like that.

Kaia's eyes pleaded with me, her grip on my hands tight, as if trying to convey her urgency through touch alone. "You have to believe it's possible. What if you're right? What if it is rigged for Oleander - that means it's rigged for you. You can swim and you can weave just as well as he can. You have to try, just try."

Her words reverberated in the stark room, and for a fleeting moment, I felt a flicker of determination, a spark ignited by her unwavering faith. But reality crashed back in, which I welcome. Feeling nothing at all is consistently better than not.

"I'll try," I promised weakly, unsure if my voice even reached her.

Kaia's gaze held mine for a moment longer, filled with a mixture of desperation and unwavering belief. Then, with a heavy sigh, she released my hands and stepped back, her shoulders sagging with defeat.

"I'll be there, Annie. I'll be watching. Don't forget that," she said softly, a glimmer of determination flickering in her eyes before she turned and the Peacekeepers dragged her from the room. The door slammed, but her sobs and screams were evident from the other side. I listened until they faded.

As the door closed behind her, a sense of profound loneliness settled over me.

As the moments in the stark room ticked by, an unsettling silence enveloped me. I waited, almost anticipating the footsteps, the drunken rage of my father's voice, but they never came. His absence was conspicuous, a painful absence that screamed louder than any words could. Was he happy about this? Delighted to finally have every remainder of Mom out of his home, likely forever?

Without warning, a wave of nausea overwhelmed me to my core. This is it, this is going to be how I die. I can smell my own blood soaking into the soil of the arena, the question of whether the bugs would begin their duty before my body is taken dancing at the edge of my mind. A primal scream tore from the depths of my chest, reverberating against the marble walls. I lashed out, my fists pounding the unyielding walls of the Justice building, each strike an embodiment of my seething rage and despair. I'll never have children of my own. I'll never dip their tiny toes in the waves of the ocean or teach them how to swim.

The echoes of my fury ricocheted through the room, the sound of my punches against the unforgiving stone a symphony of anguish. Crimson ran down my arms in streams, violet beginning to coat my hands in broken vessels. I laughed bitterly. Try to fix this in two days. The sight is only encouraging. You've ruined everything in my life, but I can ensure I ruin this for you.

But the marble remained steadfast, unyielding to my desperate assault. With each futile strike, tears streamed down my face, mingling with the blood from my battered fists.

I collapsed to my knees, broken and defeated, my sobs reverberating off the cold walls. I searched around for something else to cause damage—it became increasingly evident that I was not the first to try this tactic.

I knew better.

The pain of his absence mingled with the bitter understanding that I wouldn't be returning, predetermined by the Capitol's ruthless machinations. I wish I could feel any part of my body, to prove that I'm still alive, but numbness surrounded me.

The door creaked open, and the Peacekeepers reappeared, their cold demeanor betraying no hint of empathy. They gestured for me to follow, and I complied, my steps robotic, devoid of any real purpose. What purpose do I have anymore? To die in some cruel, humiliating way on the television of people like Amae?

The first to notice my dress covered in blood nudged the other. Reaching out sharply, the man in white armor surveyed my hands. It would be a miracle if bones were not broken today; that's likely the cause of my inability to feel them.

Outside, the town square bustled with activity, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within me. Many were embracing, clutching each other, overwhelmed that their loved ones had another year, or maybe eternity, of not suffering from my current predicament. Calypso's mother waved from the sea, tears in her eyes as she clawed at her daughter. I lifted one bloody hand in response, a silent you're welcome. Please take care of her. This cannot be for nothing.

And there I was, standing on the stage, covered in liquid scarlet, sweat, and tears, blending into the background already.

#thg fic #thg fanart #thg peeta #thg finnick #thg katniss #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #annie x finnick #finnick odair #finnick imagine #hunger games catching fire #thg #thg series #hunger games finnick #finnick x annie #annie cresta

[running-swimming-living]

A little update. I can’t recall the last time I posted but since then I was able to go for a few swims and get a haircut and my eyebrows done. I’m ready for the new year.

I’ve been getting my haircut my whole life so I called up the local salon and scheduled an appointment with just any stylist bc I don’t really have a preference. But this stylist, for the first time in my life, was male. It was weird and triggering. I am not good with men. It freaked me out. I think he did a great job. He really understood the assignment and took out a ton of bulk. It feels light and looks fantastic but I need to start straightening it bc my waves haven’t grown into their own yet.

I did more weight lifting today. Learned some more machines. I am learning everything I expected. I really want to start taking weight loss seriously. She has asked me to track my eating but I end up giving up. But not this week.

[444lpblue]

The Witch and the Beast #3 - The Witch's Pastime: Final Act

Screenplay: Yuuichirou Momose Storyboard: Motohiro Abe Episode Direction: Hae-Jeong Gim, Shinya Kawabe Chief Episode Direction: Makoto Tamagawa Chief Animation Direction: Hiroya Iijima Animation Direction: Chang-Hee Won, Hui-Yeong Yun, Ju-Hyeong Eom, O-Sik Kwon Key Animation: Sun-Yeong Seong, Su-Jin Oh, Seo-Gi Kang, Hae-Jeong Gim, Young-Chan Kim The conclusion to The Witch's Pastime arc comes with its own visual ups and downs. The episode, for the most part, was a lot more on model than the previous one, but the storyboarding is arguably quite a bit worse. There were several sequences in this episode that I felt were severely hindered by the boarding, not just the animation. For example, check out the clip below.

I wanted to post more than just this one, but Tumblr limits me to just one video per post. This is a short one, so it's easy to explain. This is more minor than the fight scene later on in this episode, but it's the same concept in terms of the issue I have with it. Abe's boards don't really even allow for animation; the way he sets up his shots to hide animation doesn't flow well together, and it feels abrupt and just kind of weird. There are much better ways to board this with about the same amount of animation planned, and it would have been a lot smoother. A simple angle change to the back of Guideau, for example, would hide the lack of any movement in general a lot better. Even if you get the best key animator for this scene, with this style of boarding, there's just not much to do with it in the first place. However, that is not to say Abe's boards were all bad. There were still some good shots in this episode. I do like that every storyboarder in this show so far seems to understand the strengths in the art direction of the show and really leans into it. Abe also interestingly changes a lot of shots which obscure the face from the manga, such as Ashaf's face being visible when the dummy is revealed or one of the brothers no longer being obscured by shadows unlike the manga, when he's sneak attacking Guideau. Abe's boards were fine, but I do think out of all the storyboarders, he definitely seems to be the most subtle with his own stylistic choices. I still enjoyed the episode. This arc has never been one of my favorites, even in the manga, and the anime adaptation of it has some hiccups here and there. However, I would still say it has been a pretty decent adaptation so far.

Also, if you're interested, the prop designer for The Witch and the Beast, Miki Matsuda, posted the gun designs used in this episode on his Twitter. Please take a look and consider following him!

His work on this show has been consistently great so far. This sentiment extends to my overall opinion on the visual aspects of the series. From the character designer to the art director and prop designer, everyone is excelling. The Witch and the Beast is a series that heavily relies on its style, and I believe they've truly understood the assignment when working on it. While there might be some production shortcomings in this particular arc, who knows how future ones will unfold. Plus, any off-model issues can likely be addressed through Blu-ray corrections. I don't find the action sequences too bad, and the anime maintains a strong sense of style that I still enjoy.

Spoiler alert, since I'm a bit late in writing this: Episode 4 has been out for a week now, and episode 5 is on the horizon. The production quality in episode 4 stands out as one of the best in the series, giving me hope that this second arc was just a resting point, and that they have bigger plans for future arcs. I'll save my discussion on episode 4 more for when I write about it.

#the witch and the beast #winter 2024 #winter 2024 anime #majo to yajuu

[kabillieu]

I don’t have a regular stylist. I go to the same salon and just book whoever is available. Every time I ask for layers…and then am barely given layers.

I always have to come home and restyle my hair because stylists never know what to do with it (this is discomfiting).

Today was no exception because my stylist shooed me out of her chair saying she didn’t have time to flat iron it. This after we’d had a conversation about how my thick wavy hair really needs to be ironed to look nice straight.

But at least she understood the assignment and gave me some layers. After I ran a hot iron through it myself it looks pretty good.

[nessa007]

Halle's premiere dresses slap more than any of the Met gala dresses combined tbh, she looks incredible, perfect

halle and her stylist understood the assignment!!!

#i can’t wait for more #*replies

[an-drawer]

Had a hair trim and had my side shave redone. The stylist understood the assignment when he finished off my hair.

Now it looks like Dame Aylin's.

[noctude]

I just went through your whole music tag and bro. Bro. You nailed the vibes for every single one. You understood the assignment. And not only that but despite using certain recognizable sounds and styles to keep within the theme, your chord choices were interesting enough to keep them fresh. Love the descending line at the end of Nautiloid. I’m rjfjdkfjJFJD IT’S SO COOL you turned ideas into SOUNDS WHAT THE FUCK

hhwh!!!!!!! im clutching my chest and fanning my face like a victorian woman HELLO... THANK YOU SO MUCH.....!

it makes me so happy to know that ive managed stylistic cohesiveness but not to the point of repetition, that Seriously means So Much i'm going Nuts

seriously though i appreciate u so much for listening and for saying all that!!! :D <3!!!

#either youre a musician or you just know exactly how to compliment one bc i'm Thrilled #ask

[propheciesanddreams]

I’m about to run back to the salon and give my hair stylist a little forehead kiss because the way he understood the assignment without me even asking!!! I just asked for something that suited me more and !!!!!! The fact that this was what he thought suited me and it’s less of a fem look!!!! my hair has been giving me amazing gender vibes for the last week 🥰🥰 I seriously look in the mirror so happy lately even if the rest of my body is still uncooperative my hair is amazing. Ok that’s enough rambling.

#talking about gender again #maybe I’m ignoring it less and less each day