#lucas frank design

[sorrysomethingwentwrong]

Courtesy: Lucas Benji

[estellaestella]

I was wondering how Denis would deal with the naked workout scene Alia has in the DUNE MESSIAH book and realised George Lucas has already crossed that bridge. He dialled down Frank Herbert's naked Alia to bikini clad Leia. And what a bikini! Designer Jacqueline West has one hell of a task making something just as iconic for Princess Alia. (But please comment if u think Denis should go for naked but shoot it in a PG 13 way, like Irene Adler in BBC SHERLOCK 🤔)

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

my biggest dissonance is how robert de niro in once upon a time in america actually looks like young carlo (but more handsome than carlo) but noodles character is nothing like him like max is a certifed carlo core. he would do everything max did

[theology101]

damn i’ve never had an unimportant opinio i’ve been more pissed about

A STORY ABOUT THE FALL OF DEMOCRACY AND RISE OF FASCISM ISNT AT ALL EQUIVALENT TO AN AUTOCRAT BECOMING A RELIGIOUS AUTOCRAT! THE VIEW OF POLITICS AND SOCIALITY AND COMMUNITY ARE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT! THE FORCE AS A MORAL AND MAGIC SYSTEM IS INCOMPARABLE TO ANYTHING IN DUNE!

If you end your Star Wars understanding with the movies sure I guess, by the Revenge of the Sith Novelization is one of the most poetic and tragic political-love story I’ve ever read. Comparing Feyd to Maul because they’re… angry and bald? Im struggling to get how one of the most eloquent Sith we meet correlates to this fuck.

Plagueis is a political novel on the same scale as Dune, with a far more rich, compelx and well developed universe. Dune is soft Sci-Fi and while a lot of it is really well developed, you can FEEL its gaps in a way you can’t with star wars

[the-far-bright-center]

" The first character McCaig tackled was the young Queen of Naboo, Padmé Amidala. “She was the Force of nature trying to hold back a tide of evil, so I wanted her to be the first flag in the ground, a clear statement against which the other designs are measured.” To do that, he needed to understand the philosophy behind a character’s appearance and the deeper motivations that inform it. “If it’s called Star Wars,” McCaig says, “then what are the characters fighting for? What is the good that they are trying to protect, and why do we want them to succeed?

“George often said that it was a battle between organic lifeforms and machines,” he explains. “It’s not that the machines are bad, but they tend to steamroll over the soft, squishy organic things. Also, the squishy things misbehave a lot, creating conflicts. At the heart of it all is a Queen trying to hold everything together without going to war, and the Jedi doing their best to help her.”

Lucas mentioned being inspired by Princess Ozma from L. Frank Baum’s Wizard of Oz. “At the same time,” McCaig says, “he challenged us with the question, ‘What makes Star Wars Star Wars?’ When he made his first trilogy, he said, there weren't many other films like it. Now there's Star Trek and Blade Runner and Alien and a host of others. What, indeed, is a Star Wars movie? And how do we shift the Star Wars you know into a whole new time period?

With the help of Jo Donaldson and her team in the Lucasfilm Research Library, as well as “freelance-researcher-extraordinaire” David Craig, McCaig plundered the Art Nouveau style of the early 20th century, developing an approach for the Queen and Naboo culture in general, which he dubbed “Space Nouveau.” He was also able to tap into the historic Paramount Studios research library, which George Lucas had acquired a decade earlier. McCaig also went outside at Skywalker Ranch, drawing plants, trees, whole forests, absorbing anything and everything organic.

“George loves illustrators,” says McCaig, “Fine artists create to satisfy themselves, but illustrators create to tell stories, and those stories reflect the time they live in, encapsulating a piece of history.”

To help create a historical sensibility that felt distinctly Star Wars, McCaig tried to ensure that each design pulled inspiration from elements in three different locations around the world, or three different time periods, or a combination of both. “If it’s reappearing in these different places and different times, chances are it's an iconic archetype – something that's part of our collective unconscious.” Queen Amidala's white face paint, for example, could be found in Japanese Geishas, the traditional appearance of married women in Mongolia, as well as England’s Queen Elizabeth I. "

— from Phantom at 25: Iain McCaig talks Darth Maul, Queen Amidala, and working with George Lucas

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 17

Part One Link to ao3 Part 16

A speedy update? Couldn't be me lmao

Step Seventeen: Tell a Story

The party really wasn’t like any of the ragers he used to throw, but in Steve’s opinion that made it a thousand times better. 

From his vantage point on the arm of the couch, Steve could see everything, and all looked to be going well. All of the parents had quickly clustered together around the big dining room table, smoking and playing cards as they reminisced about the good old days and enjoyed the wine Steve had broken out of the cellar. Mike and Lucas were sprawled out across the floor, their books in piles around them as they designed new characters and argued about the best way to win against dragons, while Nancy and Jonathan had curled up together on the loveseat by the window, sharing a cup of cocoa and quietly whispering about god knows what. 

It all seemed peaceful. 

So naturally Steve was sitting next to the most chaotic conversation he had ever heard. 

“In terms of controlling the fight and better initiative, it’s the halberd. Hands down,” Frank declared. He was putting emphasis on every single word, as if doing so would somehow sway the three preteens throwing him impressively dry looks. 

“That’s assuming you have the speed and dexterity necessary to gain that advantage,” Dustin sighed, shaking his head and tutting. “The greatsword is not only faster, but it is shorter, which makes the swing that much more versatile.”

Mike and Lucas sagely nodded along from their spot on the floor next to Dustin. the calmness of the action only riling Frank up even more.

“Reach is speed on its own!” He snapped, tossing his hands in the air, turning to the others for help. Steve bit down the laugh that was attempting to escape, doing his best to appear supportive, and Eddie was already reaching over to give his friend the conciliatory pat on the shoulder. 

Steve wasn’t exactly positive how the debate had started, but it had to have been at least fifteen minutes of furious back and forth between the two. It was pretty entertaining to watch, made even better by the quiet comments Eddie would whisper up to Steve when he was sure no one else was listening. 

“Careful there Frank,” Jeff called from the other side of the room, not looking up from Will’s sketchbook as he did, “you sound like you’re losing to a twelve year old.”

“I am not losing,” Frank ground out. 

“I’m not twelve!” Dustin protested.

“Of course you aren’t losing, Frankie,” Eddie interjected, his tone practically dripping with false kindness. He accompanied the words with a brief pat to the top of Frank’s head. 

“Dustin just isn’t opening his mind to the possibilities that your elder brain has already thought through,” Steve added on, his stomach doing a weird flip-flop when Eddie turned to look up at him with a little gremlin smile. Teasing friends was different when it really was just teasing, and Steve couldn’t resist the urge to jump in and knock at Frank a little for getting so into a debate with the kids. 

“Okay just because you play now doesn’t make you an expert, Steve,” Mike added on, never one to miss a chance to try and knock Steve down a peg. Steve, very maturely, rolled his eyes and chose not to reply. 

“How about it, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked, looking up at Steve where he was sitting perched on the arm of the couch, “halberd or Greatsword?”

“Steve, if you don’t choose the sword, I will feel personally betrayed,” Dustin spat out before Steve could even open his mouth. It was accompanied by a murderous looking glower, and Steve knew trouble was starting to brew on the horizon. 

“Eh, I think Baby might have a problem if I start using a different weapon,” He said, staying neutral and dragging the boys into a different conversation before feelings started to actually get hurt. 

“Baby?”

Fuck. 

Steve’s whole body stiffened up, and he glanced quickly at Eddie before turning away, mind racing to come up with an explanation. How the hell was he supposed to casually bring up the bat studded with nails that was sitting in the trunk of his BMW?

“Okay, but we’re talking in game, not real life!” Lucas objected, keeping the conversation flowing and unintentionally bypassing Eddie’s question. 

“Baby would be more effective than a halberd though,” Dustin pointed out, and Mike hummed in disagreement, flipping the pages of the manual in front of him as he looked for a counter argument.

“So who’s Baby?” Eddie asked quietly as they continued the debate, leaning back towards Steve so only he could hear the words. He was looking up at Steve with those big doe eyes, completely at peace with a soft smile and lax shoulders. He was the picture of calmness, and Steve wouldn’t ruin that with the Upside Down, not even in the most roundabout way. 

“I’m gonna get a refill,” Steve whispered to him instead, reaching down to quickly run his fingers through Eddie’s curls impulsively before standing up and stretching. He felt the hem of his maroon sweater ride up over his hips, and the boys groaned as the bottom half of Steve’s stomach came into view. “Do you want anything, Eds?” 

“Um no, ‘m okay,” Eddie said, his voice uncharacteristically small. Steve relaxed from his stretch, giving Eddie a quick once over. He looked the same as before, save for a slight color on his cheeks and averted downward facing eyes. 

Weird. 

Something to check on. 

But later. First Steve had to take a lap. 

“Dustin, don’t make Frank blow a gasket,” Steve ordered as he passed by, pushing the kids hat down over his eyes. Dustin growled at him and waved his arms blindly in an attempt to smack Steve away, but Steve easily dodged it, sliding over to the edge of the living room and down the stairs to the wine cellar. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered to himself as he picked two bottles at random. How could he have said something like that? He wasn’t even drunk! It had just slipped out, but that didn’t make it okay. Sure, the very existence of Baby wasn’t covered by the NDA’s, but just knowing about her would be enough to make Eddie curious, and curiosity led to more questions, which lead to more answers, which lead to more danger. 

Steve’s stomach flipped over on itself, and he leaned back against the cool stone wall of the cellar, worrying his lip as he tried to take a deep breath. 

There wasn’t any danger. Not anymore. It was just a party, and it was just one little sentence. Eddie would forget about it by the time he walked back up the stairs. He was working himself up over nothing. 

Or everything. 

‘Or’ might just be the scariest word in the world, Steve thought to himself as he climbed up the stairs feeling about ten thousand pounds heavier. He trudged over to the kitchen and quickly opened both bottles, leaving one to air out as he carried the other over to the dining room table, silently listening to the adults as they gossiped. 

“It’s such an insane story,” Sue Sinclair was saying in a quiet breathy voice as Steve walked in, barely even noticing as he started refilling her glass, “it’s hard to believe.” 

“It was harder to live through,” Hopper replied, extremely somber as he gravely shook his head.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise and giving up the act. He looked up just a bit to make eye contact with Joyce, who was also clearly hiding a smile behind her hand. 

“Maybe we should pause this conversation?” Karen asked lightly, politely jutting her chin out towards Steve who continued to pour without comment. 

“Steve knows,” Hopper quickly smoothed over. 

“He babysits Jane with the others,” Joyce added on, giving Steve a secretive look as she continued, “such a big help with acclimating her.”

All eyes were on him now, and Steve played his part perfectly. He poured the last of the bottle into Hopper’s glass and stepped back with a sigh. 

“She’s a great kid. Amazing even, after everything she’s been through,” Steve said, his voice pitched to the ultimate tone of caring worry. 

This seemed to seal the deal for the rest of the adults, and they fell one by one. Hook, line, and sinker. The women were twittering on about how sad the whole story was, and the men were shaking their heads and muttering to Hopper about how drugs were going to ruin the nation. 

Everything was going to plan. 

Steve couldn’t help the little burst of pride he felt watching all of the parents gossiping like hens. He was the one to come up with El’s cover story, and it couldn’t have been going better. 

El might not be allowed to go to school until next year, but Steve didn’t see a point in keeping her locked up in the cabin until then like Hopper wanted. The government knew she was alive now, and she had all her paperwork. Besides, having her drop out of the blue sky into one of the most unforgiving social settings on the planet was a complete recipe for disaster. 

This party had been the perfect test run for the story they were going to use to explain her sudden appearance, and it had passed with flying colors. But Steve had known it would work, never had any doubt despite everyone else’s concerns. 

He knew because he knew this town like the back of his hand. If you gave them a good enough story, something juicy and wild but with enough reality that it would stick, then they would buy it. Not only would they buy it, but they would sell it to everyone else on the block too. Now that Sue Sinclair, Claudia Henderson, and Karen Wheeler had the ‘truth’, El would fly into Hawkins High with only minimal odd looks and the occasional jerky kid to deal with. 

And what was the best cover story for a girl like El? 

“I just can’t believe that there was a suicide cult right here in Indiana,” Chuck Sinclair commented, sitting back in his seat. “How did no one know about it?”

“There was no way to leave without being killed. Anyone who would have told someone was killed. Brenner, the one in charge, was convinced he could create dimensions to other worlds and give children superpowers with LSD, if you can believe it,” Joyce replied, laying on the shock and surprise a little thick in Steve’s opinion. Still, whatever got the rest of them on board.  

“Ridiculous,” Ted Wheeler muttered, sounding absolutely disgusted. 

“We’re just lucky we found Will and Jane when we did. We were too late for the others,” Hopper paused to take a long slow sip of his drink, really selling the story. He even lowered his voice, causing them all to lean in, “The feds want to keep it real hush hush, and we were so afraid for the kids that we just went along with that bullshit water contamination story. But I mean, c’mon. Water contamination? Those people disappeared.” 

A round of mutters among the group, and then Karen Wheeler spoke up. 

“But Barbara Holland using drugs? I knew Barb her entire life. She always had such a good head on her shoulders,” She said, grief coating every word. Steve dragged a sharp breath in, holding the bottle close to his chest and forcing himself to stay still and silent as Hopper and Joyce did their best to explain. 

This was the part that sucked. To make the story work, really work, it had to involve everyone. Benny, Barb, Will, even the two hunters. All of them had to be explained, or the story fell apart. It felt dishonest to make Barb a part of it all, but El was still here, and Steve still had a chance to help her. 

For El. It was all for El. 

“That’s how the commies get you,” Ted remarked to Karen the second Hop was done speaking. “We’re just lucky she didn’t bring Nancy into it.” 

Steve bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. This wasn’t about him or his guilt. It was about El. 

“At least you saved that precious little girl,” Claudia breathed, hand still over her heart as her eyes glistened with tears. “It all must have been so scary for her. Does she know… you know… about her mother?”

“She does, but she doesn’t like to talk about it,” Hopper laid both hands out on the table 

“Listen, we really shouldn’t have said anything to you all.”

This was it. This was the moment that would tell them what was going to happen from here on out. Steve held his breath

“Our lips are sealed, Jim,” Chuck said instantly, the rest of the group nodding along. “Last thing any of us would want to do is put your daughter or Joyce’s son in danger. Whether it’s the government or some freaky cult stragglers.” 

There it was. 

In a small town like Hawkins, lips were always sealed. People said they wouldn’t say a word, they promised to keep a secret, but Steve had no doubt that by the end of the week the entire town would be abuzz with the story. The best part was, there was no one that would end up hurt. Hopper looked like a hero, Joyce went from local crazy woman to single mother who did everything to protect her baby, and El was just a poor child who was rescued from an insane terrible man. 

It was the truth, just… shifted ever so slightly. No lies involved. Not really. Just a perspective on it. 

The mood and the topic began to move, and Steve moved with it. He went to escape out the side door back to the living room, but as he went past her Joyce reached out, taking his wrist in her small hand and squeezing it once. It was a tiny display of affection, barely anything, but it stopped Steve in his tracks, making his heart do strange weird things that left his chest aching. 

Damn. 

“Are you alright?” Joyce murmured to him below the sound of the conversation. 

“Yeah?” Steve replied, unspoken question sitting between them as Joyce continued to hold onto his wrist. 

“You looked upset when you came in,” She observed. That was the best and worst part of Joyce, she never let anything drop. It reminded Steve a lot of Nancy actually, both of them so determined to get to the bottom of everything, even when it was best to just leave it alone. 

Of course it had to be Joyce. 

“‘I’m okay,” Steve said, trying for a thin little smile. 

Joyce hummed, rubbing her thumb over Steve’s arm as she forced him to keep eye contact until the fake smile slipped from his face. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve said, a dark cloud coming over him as Joyce continued to hold on. It was the same thing as Nancy. Stifling, impossible to be around, a feeling of claustrophobia that would never fully go away. 

It wasn’t any of Joyce’s business. It wasn’t like she was his mother. 

“Well, if you need anything you can always come to me or Hop,” Joyce said after a too long silence, releasing Steve’s arm. “We’re here for you guys too, not just the kids.”

“You’re allowed to not be okay.”

Eddie. 

Since he had said those words, they had been permanently branded in the forefront of Steve’s mind. Every time he tried to forget them, they returned with a vengeance, hitting him directly in the soft spot right above his breastbone. 

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know that. He knew that he was allowed to not be okay. He did. But it was silly for him not to be okay, because nothing had really happened to him. Will was the one who had ended up in the Upside Down. Nancy’s best friend had died. El had been fucking tortured for her entire life. 

In comparison Steve’s problems were so small it was laughable. 

So why was everyone trying so hard to tell him that they mattered? 

“Steve?” 

Steve had never been so happy to hear one of his kids. 

A hush fell over the adults as El popped her head around the corner, immediately coming over to Steve’s side and pressing close, trying to avoid the obvious stares coming from everyone else. They were looking at her with a mixture of pity and concern, but it was better than fear. 

“Hi Janey,” Steve said, playing with her curls and shooting her a warm grin, “you doin’ okay?”

El shrugged, burrowing impossibly further into Steve’s grip. 

“The others are being loud,” She said softly. Steve sighed, petting her hair again. He and Hop had talked about the possibility of this being too much for her, same as the Snowball. This party was mostly made up of her people, but even her people could be overwhelming. 

Luckily, Steve already had an idea in place. 

“Would you mind helping me with something?” Steve asked, already gently nudging El towards the doorway and into the kitchen. 

Making cookies was the perfect ‘cool down away from people so you don't have a meltdown and psychically destroy Steve's house’ activity. Steve had learned that El really enjoyed cooking, and although she couldn’t use her powers to get the flour down from the high shelf like she usually would if it was just them, she was still having fun. 

“Don’t listen to anyone who tells you oatmeal raisin cookies are bad,” Steve instructed, rolling out another ball of dough and placing it carefully on the cookie sheet. “They’re stupid and childish.”

“Mike hates oatmeal raisin,” El cheerfully replied, licking the spoon that Steve had handed to her when he was done mixing the batter. 

Now that it was just the two of them, she had relaxed. She was sitting on the counter next to where he was working, ever so slightly bobbing her head along to the music filtering in from the living room. Steve had relaxed along with her, all of the previous troubles of the night fading away, replaced by the smell of cinnamon sugar and the warmth of the oven heating up. 

“My point exactly. Mike hates everything great,” Steve countered, dabbing a bit of cookie batter onto the tip of El’s nose. She laughed softly, and stuck her tongue out, trying to reach the offending treat. 

“Mike likes me,” El shot back, continuing to try and touch her tongue to her nose. Steve watched her struggle for a second more before shaking his head and reaching around her to grab a paper towel. 

“Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Steve whispered conspiratorially as he wiped her face clean. This started up another round of giggles, and Steve laughed along with her, his entire body feeling light for the first time all day. 

He loved each of his kids for different reasons- even Mike- but El was just so easy. The rest of them couldn't help the compulsive urge to be difficult little hell beasts. They were always trying to show off how smart they were, which usually meant disparaging Steve’s intelligence to some degree. Even Will couldn’t resist a few snarky comments when he thought Steve was being overprotective.

But El thought Steve was one of the smartest people in the world, and she was always telling him so. It was objectively untrue, but it was fun to get to show her how to do things without being afraid of being told he was doing them wrong. Even something as simple as baking cookies was an opportunity to give her a new happy experience, and getting to be a part of that was kind of magical. 

“How about this- we’ll tell Mike you made these and you’ll see just how quickly oatmeal raisin becomes his favorite cookie,” Steve offered. 

“Sounds like fun,” A familiar voice said from the doorway, making Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

Steve turned around and gave Eddie a pleased grin, waving him in and turning around to finish up with the dough.

“Hey Eds,” Steve said as Eddie leaned into his space and snagged a bite. Eddie hummed appreciatively, going for another taste but Steve smacked his hand with his spoon before he could.

“You’ll get sick eating that,” Steve pointed out. 

“So mean,” Eddie said with a fake pout. He pulled away from Steve, walking around the kitchen aimlessly with swinging arms, “I was just wondering where our liege had run off to. Apparently you went to guide a wayward princess through the fine art of confectionary creation.” 

Said ‘princess’ was staring at Eddie with open distrust. Her spoon had been abandoned beside her, and her arms were wrapped tight around her middle. Steve was immediately reminded of her initial reaction to Max. Although they were thick as thieves now, El had been cold to her too at the start. Steve had figured it was some sort of pre-teen jealousy thing over Mike. 

Apparently it was just an all around jealousy thing. It made sense though. A girl who had nothing would protect whatever she had with ferocious intensity, especially her people. Time to do a little damage control. 

“Eddie’s my friend, and he said he wanted to be friends with you too,” Steve said, pitching his voice soft and low as he reframed things for El. If Eddie was one of her people, then she wouldn’t be quite so possessive over Steve’s time. “He’s a little loud, and a little scary looking, but he’s probably the nicest person I know.” 

Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Steve just shrugged. He was just being honest, Eddie probably was the nicest person Steve knew. He cared about Nancy and Jonathan, and he loved the kids, but none of them were necessarily very nice. Eddie had taken Steve in without even really thinking about it, which would have been amazing even if Steve had just been another nerd.

The fact that Steve used to be one of the people who would have made fun of people like Eddie only made him even better in Steve’s eyes. 

El’s mouth pursed into a tiny little scowl, and she narrowed her eyes, evaluating Eddie where he stood. 

“Bitchin’,” El said after a moment, punctuating the word with an approving nod. It was probably the closest thing to approval Eddie could earn at this moment. 

“Yeah, Babydoll’s totally bitchin,’” Steve said with a laugh, stretching the word out just because it was funny to see Eddie turn bright red. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from the compliment or the silly nickname, but either way he was enjoying it. 

“It’s good to meet you, Miss Jane,” Eddie said, coughing and trying to will away the blush on his cheeks, “Steve’s told me a lot about you.” 

El turned to look at Steve, adorably confused by Eddie’s statement. Steve stiffened up, avoiding his knee jerk impulse to shake his head. He hadn’t told Eddie anything real about El, just the same story that Hopper and Joyce were selling to the parents. But El wasn’t good with secrets at the best of times, and the elaborate intricate story that they had woven would probably be too much for her. 

“El? EL!” 

“Mike, stop shouting!” Steve said, shouting himself, relieved at being interrupted before things could get hairy. He rolled his eyes and shot Eddie a look, calm now that Eddie seemed less curious about El and more fondly annoyed with Mike and his antics. “We’re in the kitchen.”  

Pandemonium as all four boys trooped in, clustering around El and chattering their heads off like they always did. Steve let out the breath he had unintentionally been holding, leaning back against the counter as he watched the kids mess around. 

“Steve, stop hogging her,” Mike snapped as he pulled away from El, glowering at him with all of the brutality of a two week old puppy. 

“El’s a person, not a toy. She can do something without you and that doesn’t mean she likes you any less,” Steve said, ignoring Mike’s sputtering denials as he helped El down from the counter, “The oven has to preheat anyway. Why don’t you go inside with them, and when the cookies are ready, you can help me dunk them in the icing?” 

El nodded, allowing herself to be pulled away by the boys. But just as she passed Eddie she stopped, grabbing onto the sleeve of his leather jacket and looking up at him from behind her curls. 

“You’ll join us?” She asked. Eddie leaned down so they were the same height and nodded, reaching out to ruffle her curls. 

“I’ll be here, Lady Jane,” Eddie promised. 

“El,” She corrected. 

That was big, even if Eddie didn’t fully realize it. It wasn’t exactly a full acceptance, but only people El actually liked were allowed to use her ‘real’ name. 

“El?” Eddie questioned. 

“A nickname. Not sure where she got it,” Steve stepped in, smoothing out the wrinkle before it could even form. He nudged Lucas, pushing them all towards the door, “Now scram, twerps.”

The kids all immediately began to groan and whisper curses under their breath at the word ‘twerps’, and they dragged El out without another word to Eddie or Steve. Steve turned and began to gather the dishes, dumping them all into the sink and turning on the water. As he started scrubbing, Steve felt more than saw Eddie’s presence approaching him. 

“I think she likes me,” Eddie sang, leaning all of his weight against Steve. He caught Eddie easily, carrying both of their weights as he continued to do the dishes. 

“What’s not to like?” Steve asked. The question was rhetorical, but the shaky little breath inward that Eddie let out wasn’t. Steve paused, sensing the mood shifting, put down the bowl he was holding and faced Eddie. 

He looked wrecked, inexplicably upset and almost guilty as he chewed on his lip and searched for words. All Steve wanted to do was wrap him in a hug and ask what was wrong, but he held back. Whatever Eddie was trying to say, it was important. 

“Steve-”

But whatever Eddie was going to say was interrupted by the sound of an engine outside. The motor was roaring, an obnoxious sound that grated on Steve’s nerves and set his teeth on edge. There was only one person who revved their stupid car that way in town, and he was the last person Steve wanted to see tonight. 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good. 

Tag List: Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[freedelusionshere]

Carmy "Took Them There" and now regrets it

The more I rewatch, the more I strongly believe that Carmy is still deprogramming from being Empire Carmy, but he feels massive guilt that he led them all down the same path he went down and doesn't feel like he has the right now to tell them to turn back the clock because he's failed them.

All the lessons and things he has learned all along the way have finally hit home and he realizes that he's actually done something terrible to them and now wants to fix it. There are plenty of hints he is doing that and exactly what it consists of.

Carmy will now want to do Syd's vision she gave him in S1.

Syd doesn't need him anymore, in fact she's better than him, and he realizes now she always was. He steals her cleaver because she uses it to pry open the shells of the hers/his scallop dish that she "fixed" which went viral. It is part jealousy, and part longing, and he remembers how good that feels (Luca also talks about this) and doesn't feel like he should get in her way, even though he loves her. It's also a funny callback to Tina hiding Carmy's knife in S1.

Marcus, who said that kind of corny line about asking Carmy as "The Bear" to take them there, now comes full circle. Marcus has used legerdemain and won his own Food & Wine award and is now terrified and getting "stuck" over running out of inspiration/creativity and is overwhelmed. Sounds familiar! What does Carmy do? Immediately brings in Luca so that Marcus will not be alone if he wants to keep doing this.

They're still chasing fucking Michelin stars when people are having breakdowns, panic attacks, and starting to spiral (Tina, bleeding into her personal life now) over making pasta in less than 3 minutes because of some asshole reviewer and bringing in "replicants" from Ever to make them operate like every other place they've worked at. Not what Syd wanted, but she does want the star, still (maybe, I suspect she's tiring of all of this, too, which is why she wants stinky Carmy still and is being nostalgic), and now it seems like they all do except Carmy. Who never wanted it to begin with and told them it was a trap.

Carmy is trying to do math, which he doesn't like to do, to try to fix things, and he's going back to thoughts of why he ever wanted to do The Bear with Mikey to begin with and questioning what that was really all about, and realizes it's connected to being stuck. The dream he's chasing now seems like Syd's dream, which was a bigger dream than just The Bear, it was about building community. To have money coming in from the window, to be able to set the restaurant up for success so that it/Syd is not having to worry about the various things that are hinted throughout S4 like running into issues because of a lack of sustainable food sourcing.

Carmy also appears to have house-hunting on the brain, and it's directly connected to the Nathan G. Moore house. Let's just say that that while Frank Lloyd Wright designed the house, his "heart wasn't in it" and he wasn't pleased with the final product. However, the Moore family loved it dearly! I'm going to make another post about this house, because it potentially implies some very interesting things.

I'm sure there are many other examples, but if I'm right, I'm excited to see where this goes in S5. Feel free to weigh in or poke holes or disagree!

[clintbrushthreepwood]

THIS IS MY FINISHED CROSS STITCH PROJECT.

Way back when in 1990, a little Lucas Arts adventure game called THE SECRET OF MONKEY ISLAND was made. Then in 2020, Frank Cigaldi published an article (linked below) about digging into the source code of the game, revealing never-before-seen sprites and assets for the game.

This project is designed after a screen on the titular island - of a pathway behind the cannibal’s village (displaying a few of their trophies) and showing off a cliffside view of said village as well as the coastline of the island.

11 colors

44,731 total stitches (my biggest project to date)

~2 years of work

Still needs to be washed and framed.

[dragonnan]

Eavesdropping

May Prompts 2024

May 13

Here is another one from the archives - it actually has two instances of eavesdropping so it was an excellent fit for the prompt!

Beware the Jabberwock, My Son

Warnings: Child Abuse, Abuse of a Minor

Forty-five minutes. Not the first time he'd been left to linger in the blazing sun while his brother cavorted with some random dignitary in need of a good pandering. Mummy and Daddy had been in Prague for the past week, and weren't due back for another three days, so Sherlock's fate, then, rested with his lazy git of an older brother to collect him at the end of term. Of all the luck.

Sherlock held back on the urge to kick at the untidy scatter of gravel that had been strewn across the pavement, with the exodus of students, not long ago. It had been a hit to his dignity, being the last student remaining after everyone had gone. It wasn't so much his outcast status; he rather preferred it to the humiliating and, at times, painful treatment he'd received during his brief stint at Winchester. That didn't mean, though, that he wanted to wander the grounds indefinitely like some wraith from a Dickens novel.

Stomping down the zig zagging steps to the small courtyard below, Sherlock tugged the stiff collar of his starched shirt away from his throat – the loathsome tie already wadded and crammed in the pocket of his dark blue blazer, which hung askew from one slender arm. Mummy would have a fit at the state of his neckwear but he could barely tolerate it most days and tended to rip it free the first chance he got. Cutting across the manicured lawn, he worked his way round the side of the complex where large trees offered an amount of shade. His overnight bag dragging behind him, leaving a small groove in the verdant grass, Sherlock was nearly to the wide spreading oak near the dormitories when he heard a clipped whine.

Shoving his bag up against the peeling tree bark, blazer thrown aside and landing atop the bag more by luck than design, he scuttled to the outer wall of the raised courtyard in order to gain an unimpeded view. The trees were thicker, here, towards the back. Too early for the groundskeeper, the litter from an impromptu rugby game, among the older boys, still lay scattered about. Sherlock toed aside a paper serviette, stained with grease, before gracefully climbing into the branches of one of the smaller beech trees. Hidden amongst the aubergine leaves, he leaned forward, wrapping his fingers around a branch smoothed by many a young man's grip, to peer out at the scene below.

There were two figures – one significantly larger than the other – about 10 yards further on and close to the treeline. The large man Sherlock didn't recognize; though it wasn't difficult to surmise the relationship. The boy was someone Sherlock knew more by nature of a shared disdain, cast upon them by the greater student body, than due to any sort of interaction. Intelligent, gentle, and possessing a sort of oddness that set him apart, Lucas Peacock had even less in common with the rank and file of Harrow than Sherlock did. At 16 he was two years Sherlock's senior. However he was one of the few students whom Sherlock had felt any sort of affinity; though their interactions had started and ended with Lucas offering the rare smile and Sherlock giving Lucas his lunch on exactly one occasion. It had been beans and franks; appalling, bland, and of an unidentifiable protein source. Not the first meal he'd foregone – there were limits, after all. Lucas hadn't minded one bit – gangly as he was and somewhat concave he'd wolfed down the meal and nearly licked the plate.

Now, he frowned as the large man; father, going by the similar features, gave Lucas a vigorous shake before slapping him across the cheek.

Slipping from his perch, Sherlock darted across the manicured green, quickly drawing dual attention.

Mr. Peacock scowled at his approach. “Run along, boy!”

Thin arms folded over his chest, Sherlock took in the darkening bruise on Lucas's cheek as well as the swelling of his lower lip.

“The grounds are off limits to anyone not a student and are restricted to students and faculty only. You aren't supposed to be back here.” Not entirely true, in fact, though it was unlikely the brutish man would be aware of school policies.

“Aren't you a bit young to be attending this school? Where are your parents?” Peacock looked about himself with a trace of unease.

Sherlock sniffed. “I'm nearly sixteen.” Well, sixteen being relative; he was roughly thirteen months shy of sixteen, not that this thundering oaf would know the difference anyhow. “Aren't you a bit old to be beating up children?”

Drawing himself up tall, the man shook Lucas by the grip on the boy's collar. “What I choose to do with my son is no concern of yours, boy! Now run along! This is no affair of yours.”

Instead, Sherlock crowded closer – sneering at Peacock's unkempt clothes – the spot of gravy on his collar – the untucked shirttails – the overall slovenly manner with which he carried himself. “Perhaps not but I'm betting the school administrators would take an interest in what you're doing.”

The congealed rage was barely a warning as Lucas was abruptly thrust towards the grass, his shoulders impacting hard enough to knock the wind from his chest, as Peacock turned fully towards Sherlock.

Sherlock was suddenly, vibrantly, aware of two things. The size of the man he'd elected to confront, and the absolute absence of any other human life, outside of their tiny drama.

He realized that a wise option, hinted in his brother's bored tones, would be to turn heel and run for the main building and the promise of adult support. He was light on his feet and very fast and knew he could easily outpace the stumbling drunkard at barely half his normal speed. However that option also came with a cost. By the time he was able to reach the headmaster's office, navigate the throng of staff demanding he explain what he was doing indoors “without a parent or guardian”, locate an adult willing to actually listen, and then prod, wheedle, and harry said adult back out onto the grounds, Peacock would be long gone and Sherlock would very likely be presumed of either a wild imagination or outright lying.

So, instead, he spread his stance; feet slipping a bit in the damp grass, and subtly turned himself to the side. Instructions unfolded in his mind – those long afternoons in a light cotton gi, the pants of which were always slightly too long.

At his movement, Peacock first grinned; then laughed. “And what is it you intend to do with those tiny fists, boy? Box my kneecaps for me?” He laughed again – making a mock lunge. With practiced ease, Sherlock twisted to the side, spun on one foot, and slammed his heel in Peacock's groin – hard.

The large man howled – cupping between his legs and nearly going down on one knee.

And that was where Sherlock made his devastating mistake. Intent on ending things, quickly, he darted around the broad figure, elbow poised to bury in a kidney, when a shattering blow impacted the side of his head and threw him five feet back into the solid ground.

His shoulders twitched as he tried to remember how to lift his arms. There was a reason he needed to stand, and quickly, but he couldn't seem to order his thoughts enough to remember why. And then pain tore at his scalp as heavy fingers twisted into his hair and pulled; forcing him to his knees. Peacock shook him violently and Sherlock was certain he was going to vomit. A bright halo surrounded the man that Sherlock knew meant Bad Things. But before he could consider that information Peacock was spitting something furious at him – similar to the hate-filled words directed at his son. Sherlock was finally able to lift one hand and lace his fingers around the man's wrist.

“Get your hands off me you little shit!” Peacock released his hair just as he backhanded Sherlock across the cheek.

He was on the ground again – stomach heaving acidic bile when the hands grabbed him for a third time. Sherlock couldn't help it, he whimpered, arms raising to cover his face. And Peacock laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and then his open hand struck the side of Sherlock's head; once, twice, and on the third slap Peacock let him drop.

“Stay away from my family or there'll be more of that! And worse!” Sherlock heard him spit; and then there followed a hazy period – the vague sense of footsteps retreating and time slipping by in some fashion.

Shadows passed over him but he couldn't imagine moving – between the halos and throbbing shapes and tinnitus if he so much as lifted his head he would vomit. So he stayed on the ground and counted his breaths and tried his damndest to block the misfiring signals-PaIn-nAuseA-bleEdiNg-DizZy-hammering at the soft tissue inside his skull.

He had no idea how long he lie there.

He'd been cringing at the piercing screedch of cicadas when the cacophony of mating insects was broken by the rapidly building thunder of steps pounding through the grass.

Peacock coming back for more, just as he promised! The moment hands touched him Sherlock bellowed – swinging blind and feeling his left hand rake along flesh; the satisfaction of a pained grunt immediately lost as his wrists were caught and soft words made headway through his panic.

“Easy. You're safe. Focus on my voice.” Repeating cadence as slowly he was released – the hands staying well away and allowing him space to breathe – to regroup.

Then, eyes still tightly shut, he sniffled and turned his head. “Mycroft?” He hated the tiny warble but couldn't help the relief when his brother responded.

“I'm here. Are you able to move? Is anything broken?”

Sherlock flexed his hands; his arms. But when he braced against the ground and tried to push up he gasped – subsiding again as sharp pain ballooned through his skull and shrieked through his ribs. “It's... I can't...”

A firm hand pressed solid against his leg. “I'll fetch the matron...”

“No!” Sherlock snatched outward and managed to catch a sleeve by pure luck. “Please, My just... I want to go home... please...”

A sigh followed. Then... “Very well. However I will need to carry you. Do you need time...?”

“I...” Fingers dug in the grass, Sherlock curled into himself. So Mycroft waited while Sherlock steadied himself – taking the steps needed to prepare for what would certainly be both painful and grating. Deep breaths – fingers playing against the earth. Then, finally, he nodded – even that small movement crashing a tsunami of stomach rolling agony through his head.

Mycroft was careful but there was no avoiding the turmoil caused by hefting his brother in his arms. It was brutal. Sherlock gagged; longer fingers clinging to Mycroft's jacket as he used every technique he knew to hold himself together. It seemed an age before, sweet blessed relief, they reached the car and Mycroft helped ease him onto the back seat – covering his face with his jacket to block out the throbbing rays of sunlight.

He sank against the cool leather and knew little more until, an undetermined time later, his brother's voice intruded once more.

“We're home. Just a short distance to the house, if you can manage it?”

He could – though he had to cling tight to his brother the entire time and depend upon his guidance to avoid stumbling as Sherlock still couldn't manage vision without a sickening swoop through his belly.

And then he was laid on the couch – both of them agreeing that navigating the stairs to his bedroom was too daunting a prospect. What followed was yet another exercise in misery. For half an hour Mycroft held him steady as he repeatedly heaved into a bowl. Attempts to stifle the flow with medication led only to repeating bouts to the point he was sweaty and shaking by the time it abated. In between gagging up his organs, Mycroft dabbed a wet flannel at his various wounds – primarily the seeping split that cut a line through both his upper and lower lip – courtesy of the ostentatious emerald on Peacock's ring.

Eventually, though, the bloodied rags were gathered and the bowl rinsed and left on the floor near his head. Mycroft insisted on pain medication and a few tentative sips of juice. Afterward Sherlock was left alone. It was only a short time later that sleep finally pulled him under.

It was dark when Sherlock woke. His head still hurt but not in that violent way from earlier. He was able to open his eyes and, best of all, the sickening halos were gone. But other aches had now asserted themselves. His ribs and right hip were nearly immobile after repeated impacts against the ground. There were bruises and small cuts on the back of his hands from trying to block the blows Peacock had rained on him – the gemstone in his ring leaving narrow gouges behind – and his shoulders felt half twisted from the sockets. As for his face it was a network of throbbing hurts.

Grunting, he stiffly pushed upright – wobbling as he struggled to regain his balance. From the kitchen, he heard a small sound, and then Mycroft stepped into the room. His face gave away little but his eyes flicked up and down Sherlock's form in an evaluating fashion.

Sherlock noted, however, that Mycroft's hands were in fists at his sides.

“You've been asleep for three hours. How is your pain?”

Both arms wrapped around his middle, Sherlock groaned. “Painful.” He squinted as he regarded his older brother. “I see you capitalized on the opportunity to invade the icebox.”

Eyes losing some of their softness, Mycroft snorted. “Quite. The devastation was incalculable.” Stepping forward he braced a hand against Sherlock's back. “I prepared dinner, you insufferable brat.”

Swatting away the probing fingers, Sherlock was, nonetheless, grateful at the proffered ice pack – which he held against his tender scalp. He briefly considered an entire tub of ice water – surely every bit of him could benefit from the soothing cold.

While he was busy with the ice, Mycroft returned to the kitchen; only to reemerge minutes later with a bowl and glass of water.

“Lentil Bolognese.”

Sherlock regarded the heavy soup; inhaling the rich scent and wary of his sensitive stomach. However there was no indication of further upset so, gathering some broth on his spoon, he sipped delicately. In short order he'd eaten more than half before setting aside his utensil. Dinner was followed by a decadent slice of tarte tatin supplied generously with a heap of thick créme fraîche. Sherlock ate every crumb and watched enviously while his wretched brother followed suit without so much as offering a single bite from his share.

After the plates were cleared away, Sherlock settled back against a heap of pillows and sighed. When Mycroft took the chair across from him, however, Sherlock clenched his fingers and stared towards the fireplace.

“This cannot be avoided, brother mine. I need to know.”

Still looking away, Sherlock hunched his shoulders. “What for? There's nothing to tell. I picked a fight and lost. Certainly that wouldn't be the first time I came out the wrong end in a scrap.”

“No, but you also are not one who typically initiates a fight. So why now? And with an opponent of clearly larger size, going by the shape of those bruises.”

At the continued silence Mycroft sighed. “Very well. I suppose I shall have to speak with the Administration as well as members of the staff. Surely one of them will have seen...”

“It was Mr. Peacock.” The admission came out in a soft murmur – Sherlock's throat flushing with heat.

Mycroft stared at him, openly aghast. “Bradford Peacock did this to you?”

Finally lifting his head, glaring, Sherlock jutted his chin. “I believe I told you that I started it.”

“Yes, you did. However, you failed to mention that your opponent was an adult man with at least ten stone on you.”

Sherlock's thumb dug into his index finger while pondering the stability of his limbs. At least in his own room he could conceivably lock Mycroft out. Not that his brother wasn't capable of entry if he so chose – locks were more of a suggestion for the both of them, much to the dismay of their parents.

“He has a young son, as I recall. A boy close to your age. Lucius.”

“Lucas.” Sherlock's eyes had returned to the fire but he could feel Mycroft's heavy gaze bearing on him.

“He was abusing him.” There was no question in the statement. Sherlock didn't reply but his teeth tightened together. Mycroft's voice fell softer still; dangerous. “And when you attempted to stop him... he beat you.”

“Beat me. He hardly-”

“You have two cracked ribs, a concussion, and there was blood in your vomit!” The fury in his brother's tone snapped Sherlock's jaw shut like a vise. His fingers twisted and pulled at the legs of his trousers until he noticed and forced his hands still.

Twice his mouth opened with a retort at the ready and twice he swallowed it back. His tongue dragged across his broken lip and he flinched. His fingers resumed their movement so he tucked them beneath his arms. Voice a dull rasp, he finally managed to get something past his teeth.

“I did what I had to do.”

Across from him, breathing out heavily, Mycroft nodded. “As will I.”

It was a week later; Sherlock's bruises mutated to a sickly green and yellow, that he was crouching in his favorite listening spot at the top of the stairs behind the top pillar. An unrepentant eavesdropper he had his head tilted back and both feet braced on the opposite wall. Below, his mother was preparing breakfast while his father and Mycroft sat at the table sharing the paper. Since his parent's return he'd been expecting some sort of outrage with regards to his injuries. Though he'd been able to mask the pain to his ribs he couldn't hide the variegated hues on his face. Yet, upon their arrival home, collected by Mycroft in Father's old sedan, Mummy had merely tsked; brushing the hair from his forehead with worried eyes before sighing. “Oh, Sherlock.”

Whatever fantasy Mycroft had spun, it had clearly been good enough for his parents. No doubt painting Sherlock in a less than favorable light.

Still, the truth would have been worse, with consequences that didn't bear consideration.

The scent of his mother's scones began to waft up the stairway. Sherlock breathed in appreciatively – eyes closed and lifted towards the warm morning light, when his mother's voice, and a familiar name, suddenly cut across his musings.

“I heard Bradford Peacock was arrested.”

Sherlock stilled – a cool weight heavy in his belly. After a beat his father hummed; likely swallowing a sip of coffee. “I hate to speak ill of anyone but I have always felt there was something not quite right about him.”

Mellie made a sound before her voice rose again. “It seems he was discovered behind a pub in the village.”

Mycroft's voiced filled in when Mummy trailed off. “As I read it he had apparently been beaten. Severely. In fact, both hands were broken and several teeth were knocked out. Given how he had been treating his son it was the least he was due.”

“You needn't sound so delighted, Myc! Atrocious business.”

Sherlock barely held himself back from peering around the corner and giving himself away – though he had no doubt that his brother knew he was there.

“No, what was atrocious is the reason why he was arrested in the first place. And I will delight in any punishment delivered to a man for hurting a child.”

In that moment Sherlock was certain Mycroft was not, entirely, thinking of Lucas. It left an odd heat behind his eyes.

There was a familiar clunk of the oven door and the rattle of a tray setting down on the counter. “No. I suppose I cannot fault how you feel. In truth, when I read how he'd been abusing that precious child I wanted to race to the constabulary and personally tear out his eyes.”

Father chuckled. “I would have driven you there, my love.”

Nose wrinkling, Sherlock let himself slump back against the bannister.

“Still, I feel for that poor boy. It destroys me to think of him taken into care.”

Mycroft's voice interceded again; deeply pleased with himself, no doubt. “You needn't fear, Mummy. I understand he will be taken in by his maternal grandmother. From what Sherlock has told me, she cares for him a great deal.”

Sherlock had told him no such thing; though he didn't doubt it was true. Not that he appreciated being made an accessory to his brother's schemes. Still, he could admit to being... content... with the outcome of Mycroft's intervention.

Conversation soon drifted to less interesting topics and Sherlock entertained himself with his own thoughts – roaming the fields in his mind until-

“Alright, young man, enough lurking! Breakfast is on! But do wash up before coming down here; no doubt you've collected several pathogens on those hands.”

Silently, Sherlock stood and crept back from the stairway. Mummy may suspect him of listening in but as yet could not prove fact without eyes on. On cat's feet he eased his way back to his room and up onto his bed – waiting several beats before loudly allowing his heels to thud against the floorboards. Shuffling to the door, he cracked it open – letting the hinges squeak, before calling down in a voice heavy with sleep.

“Did you call, Mummy?”

Her less than convinced snort carried easily from below. “Oh, you heard me. Hurry, now, before your eggs go cold.”

Grinning, Sherlock made his way to the washroom.

No doubt he would owe Mycroft for his illicit use of manpower on a less than sanctioned mission. His brother always did collect on his debts. Still... Sherlock couldn't deny that the results had been worth it. Maybe he could even convince Mycroft to procure a booking photo of Mr. Peacock.

Fingers clean enough and somewhat dried, Sherlock pressed his arm against his side and headed for the stairs.

It appeared it was going to be a fantastic day.

Comment of AO3

@sgam76 @totallysilvergirl @sevdrag @helloliriels @calaisreno

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

FUCKING FINALLY SHE IS DONE.

I finally got my design done for my Stranger Things OC: Allie Perea!

Name: Alejandra “Allie” Perea

Face claim: Ally Sheedy

Age: 18

Orientation: Bisexual (Leaning more towards men)

Love interest: Eddie Munson

Friends: Gareth, Jeff, Frank, Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler

Occupation: Student (Senior) at Hawkins High School, Rhythm Keyboard, Keytar, and backup vocals for Corroded Coffin

Instrument: CasioTone 7000, Casio AZ-1 Keytar

Physical Appearance: 5’ 0”, mixed Hispanic and Latina, Medium warm tone skin, curly dark brown hair cut in layers and styled with a Gillette SuperMax Hair Dryer, brown eyes, thick black frame glasses, minimal to no makeup.

Style: Late 80’s grunge or 80s style metalhead (male version), dolphin shorts and oversized tees for loungewear, bishop sleeve blouses and jeans for D&D nights with Hellfire Club.

Likes: Dune Series, aliens, cryptids, science fiction, cats, rainbow patterns, Care Bears, music (all genre), Kewpie dolls, the color black, vinyl records, coffee, pinball, bowling, billiards, Galaxy Express 999, Candy Candy, books, turtles

Dislikes: Confrontation, change, disruption to routines or “rituals”, Jason Carver, religion in general, Hawkins, humidity, being belittled

Backstory: Allie Perea is an 18 year old high school student from New Mexico who transferred to Hawkins during her senior year. Her father disappeared in the summer of 1984 a week after taking Allie to see Van Halen’s 1984 “Tour of the World”. His disappearance sent Allie in a downward spiral of depression. She is a firm believer in conspiracy theories and will only tell those she trusts about the theories surrounding her father’s disappearance.

Personality: Quiet, shy, moody, prone to outbursts of anger or sadness, immature, anxious, paranoid

Favorite Bands: Oingo Boingo, Spandau Ballet, Huey Lewis and the News, Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osborne, AC/DC, Billy Idol, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Depeche Mode, Prince, Elton John, Van Halen, KISS, DIO

Favorite Movie: Black Christmas (1974)

Songs that describe her: Darkness At The Heart of My Love (Ghost), Don’t Talk to Strangers (DIO), Love Walks In (Van Halen), Made in Heaven (Queen)

[dailyanarchistposts]

Footnotes Part II

[63] William Hazlitt, “Memoirs of Thomas Holcroft,” in Collected Works, Vol. 2 (London: J.M. Dent, 1902), 155.

[64] Frank Donoghue, The Last Professors: The Corporate University and the Fate of the Humanities (New York: Fordham University Press, 2008), 91.

[65] Andrew J. Wall, Andrew Carnegie (New York, Oxford University Press, rpt. Pittsburgh: University Of Pittsburgh Press, 1989), 837; Richard Teller Crane, The Utility of all Kinds of Higher Schooling (Chicago, H.O. Shepard, 1909), 106.

[66] Donoghue, The Last Professors, 3.

[67] David L. Kirp, Shakespeare, Einstein, and the Bottom Line: The Marketing of Higher Education (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003), 243.

[68] Donoghue, The Last Professors, 56.

[69] Quoted in full in Condé Nast Portfolio.com, “Daily Brief: Hedge Fund Manager: Goodbye and F——You,” Oct. 17, 2008. http://www.portfolio.com/v iews/blogs/daily-br ief/2008/10/17/hedge-fund-manager-good bye-and-f-you.

[70] Adorno, “Education after Auschwitz,” 6–7.

[71] Aldous Huxley, Brave New World (London: Grafton Books, 1977), 99- 100.

[72] Randall Colvin and Jack Block, “Do Positive Illusions Foster Mental Health? An Examination of the Taylor and Brown Formulation,” Psychological Bulletin 116:1 (July 1994), 3–20.

[73] One group that applies positive psychology to business practices, and touts the worldwide goodness this spreads, posts this laudatory message sent to the group in July 2004 by then-U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan: “I would like to commend you for your innovative methodology of ‘apprecia tive inquiry’ and to thank you for introducing it to the United Nations. Without this, it would have been very difficult, perhaps even impossible, to constructively engage so many leaders of business, civil society, and government.” Business as an Agent of World Benefit (BAWB) Global Forum. http://www.bawbglobalforum.org/content/view/47/115.

[74] Anthropologist Laura Nader strongly disagrees with the assertion that positive emotions and health go together.

[75] Huxley, Brave New World, 99–100.

[76] Mihály Csikszentmihály, “Brain Channels Thinker of the Year Award: 2000: Mihály Csikszentmihály, ‘Flow Theory.’” Brain Channels. Accessed April 5, 2009. http://www.brainchannels.com/thinker/mihaly.html; Jamie Chamberlin, “Reaching ‘Flow’ to Optimize Work and Play,” American Psychological Association Monitor 29:7 (July 1998), http://www.apa.org/monitor/ju198/joy.html.

[77] Csikszentmihály, “‘Flow Theory.’”

[78] E. Diener, C. Nickerson, R. E. Lucas, and E. Sandvik, “Dispositional Affect and Job Outcomes,” Social Indicators Research 59 (2002), 229–259.

[79] S. E. Taylor, “Adjustment to Threatening Events: A Theory of Cognitive Adaptation, American Psychologist 38 (1983), 1161–1173. Quoted in Colvin and Block, “Do Positive Illusions Foster Mental Health?”

[80] C. Peterson, “The Future of Optimism,” American Psychologist 55:1 (Jan. 2000), 4–55.

[81] D. A. Jopling, “‘Take away the life-lie ... ’ Positive illusions and creative self deception.” Philosophical Psychology 9 (1996), 525–544.

[82] Chris Cochran. “The Production of Cultural Difference: Paradigm Enforcement in Cultural Psychology,” Psychology at Berkeley Spring 2008.

[83] “In Good We Trust,” in Mother Jones, January/February 2009. http://www.motherjones.com/media/2009/02/books-good-we-trust.

[84] Sura Hart and Victoria Kindle Hodson, “Peaceful Parenting,” The Greater Good 4:3 (Winter 2007–2008). http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/greatergood/2007winter/HartHodson.html.

[85] Richard S. Lazarus, “Author’s Response: The Lazarus Manifesto for Positive Psychology,” Psychological Inquiry 14:2 (2003), 176.

[86] “The New Industrial Relations,” Business Week 2687 (May 11, 1981): 84–89.

[87] David Noble, America by Design (Oxford: Oxford University. Press, 1977).

[88] Frank M. Gyrna Jr., Quality Circles: A Team Approach to Problem Solving (New York: American Management Associations, 1981); Neal Q. Herrick, Joint Management and Employee Participation: Labor and Management at the Crossroads (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1990); Paul Bernstein, Workplace Democratization: Its Internal Dynamics (New Brunswick: Transaction Books, 1976); Robert S. Ozaki. Human Capitalism: The Japanese Enterprise System as World Model (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1991).

[89] Roberto González, “Brave New Workplace: Cooperation, Control, and the New Industrial Relations,” Controlling Processes: Selected Essays, 1994–2005. Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers 92/93 (2005), 113.

[90] Gyrna, Quality Circles, 53.

[91] Ozaki, Human Capitalism, 169.

[92] Ibid.

[93] Satoshi Kamata, Japan in the Passing Lane: An Insider’s Account of Life in a Japanese Auto Factory, Tatsuru Akimoto, ed. and trans. (New York: Pantheon Books, 1982), 71.

[94] Ibid., 24, 30.

[95] Ibid., 109–110.

[96] González, “Brave New Workplace,” 109.

[97] Noble, America by Design, 274–278.

[98] Ibid., 290.

[99] Ibid., 259–260.

[100] González, “Brave New Workplace,” 111.

[101] Ibid., 118.

[102] Kamata, Japan in the Passing Lane, 124.

[103] Eric Schmitt, “Pentagon Managers Find ‘Quality Time’ on a Brainstorming Retreat,” The New York Times, Jan. 11, 1994: A7; González, “Brave New Workplace,” 107.

[104] J. P. Womack, D. T. Jones, and D. Roos. The Machine That Changed the World (New York: Harper Collins, 1990), 200–203.

[105] Kamata, Japan in the Passing Lane, 75.

[106] R. Ofshe and Margaret T. Singer, “Attacks on Peripheral versus Central Elements of Self and the Impact of Thought Reforming Techniques,” Cultic Studies Journal 3:1 (1986): 6.

[107] González, “Brave New Workplace,” 116.

[108] Kamata, Japan in the Passing Lane, 48.

[109] Alejandro Lugo, “Cultural Production and Reproduction in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico: Tropes at Play among Maquiladora Workers,” Cultural Anthropology, 5:2. (1990): 178–180.

[110] Kamata, Japan in the Passing Lane, 156–157.

[111] Mike Parker, Inside the Circle: A Union Guide to QWL (Boston: South End Press, 1985), 19; González, “Brave New Workplace,” 115.

[112] Parker, Inside the Circle, 20; González, “Brave New Workplace,” 116.

[113] P. C. Thompson, “U.S. Offered Unusual Class on Diversity,” New York Times, Apr. 2, 1995: 34.

[114] R. E. Lane, The Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2000). Quoted in Barbara S. Held, “The Negative Side of Positive Psychology,” Journal of Humanistic Psychology 44:1 (Winter 2004), 9, 24.

[115] Andrew J. Bacevich, The Limits of Power (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2008), 172.

[116] David Barstow, “One Man’s Military-Industrial-Media Complex,” New York Times, Nov. 29, 2008: 172.

[117] Robert Bellah, Habits of the Heart (Berkeley and Los Angeles, Calif.: University of California Press, 1985), 285.

[118] Albert Einstein, “Why Socialism?” Monthly Review (May 1949). Rpt. In http://www.huppi.com/kangaroo/Einstein.htm.

[119] Cited in Glenn Greenwald, “There’s Nothing Unique About Jim Cramer,” Salon 13 (March 2009), www.salon.com/opinion/greenwald/2009/03/13/cramer.

[120] Ibid.

[121] Ibid.

[122] Franklin Delano Roosevelt, “Message to Congress on Curbing Monopolies,” April 29, 1938. In John T. Woolley and Gerhard Peters, The American Presidency Project (Santa Barbara, Calif.: University of California). http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/index.php?pid=15637.

[123] Dennis C. Blair, “Far-Reaching Impact of Global Economic Crisis,” Annual Threat Assessment, Senate Armed Services Committee (March 10, 2009), 3. http://www.fas.org/irp/congress/2009_hr/031009blair.pdf.

[124] Quoted in James Bamford, “Big Brother Is Listening,” Atlantic (April 2006), http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200604/nsa-surveillance/4.

[125] Nathan Frier, “Known Unknowns: Unconventional ‘Strategic Shocks’ in Defense Strategy Development,” U.S. Army War College, Strategic Studies Institute, http://www.strategicstudiesinstitute.army.mil/pdffiles/PUB890.pdf.

[126] George Orwell, The Collected Letters, Essays and Journalism of George Orwell. Vol, 4: In Front of Your Nose, 1945–1950. Eds. Sonia B. Orwell and Ian Angus (Boston: David R. Godine, 2000), 67.

[127] Vasily Grossman, Life and Fate, trans. Robert Chandler (New York: Harper and Row, 1985), 410.

[alfietalksaboutcomics]

Some Thoughts On Fall Of The House Of X #1

To be frank, I’m bored, I’m on break from school, and I want to write something but I have nothing that I’m particularly inspired to write about. So to sate my hunger to write I’ve decided to give some of my thoughts on this week’s only new X-Men title, the ridiculously and ill advisedly named Fall Of The House Of X #1 by Gerry Duggan and Lucas Werneck. 

I think before I cover the issue itself I have to talk about that title for a second and why I find it to be so ill advised. The title draws instant comparisons between this book and Johnathan Hickman and Pepe Larraz’s House Of X. In fact the book positions it as the conclusion of the story started by that very book. This was frankly a icarian folly. House Of X — alongside Hickman and R. B. Silva’s Powers Of X — is one of the best X-Men stories ever told, by naming the title Fall Of The House Of X you're setting up an impossible standard to reach. 

Gerry Duggan is a talented writer, he’s great at doing character driven stuff and big superheroic bombast, but frankly I don’t know if he’s equipped to go toe to toe with Hickman so to speak. Even judging the writing of this book in isolation from any comparisons I don’t think this is Duggan at his best. 

On the art front Lucas Werneck just isn’t Pepe Larraz, I like Werneck just fine and think he’s a rising star but frankly it feels like he’s still evolving as an artist and isn’t quite suited for an event book such as this. It really is a shame that Larraz didn’t return for this book because honestly, it would elevate it quite a bit in my estimation. Back onto Werneck’s work, the pencils feel oddly rushed in some places which feels odd for a event book such as this, part of the advantage of a event book as I understand it is that artists have more time to work on the art without having to worry so much about reaching a monthly deadline. All that being said the art is by no means terrible, it’s quite good in fact. But it just doesn’t feel like the right fit for the bombast this book is clearly going for. Werneck excels at character interactions as he showed time and time again in Immortal X-Men, but I’m unconvinced of his ability to do sustained bombast beyond a striking pose. 

To ramble a bit about some individual aspects of the issue, I'm not a fan of some of the costume choices, in particular Cyclops's and Wolverine's. It's pretty frustrating to see the characters put back into their Cockrum era outfits for seemingly no reason at all? don't get me wrong I love these older costumes but I wish they were finishing off Krakoa in their Krakoan costumes.

Another aspect of the issue that I have a nitpick with is Nimrod being taken out so easily. In the issue he goes to fight the island of Krakoa itself but he's taken out by some amber spit? Isn't Nimrod supposed to be this huge extensional threat to Mutantkind? It diminishes his threat when you have him taken out by tree spit.

In terms of positives I thought Polaris's new design is really great, so there is that. Like I said earlier, Werneck really excels at breathtaking poses.

[ulkaralakbarova]

The adventures of two amiably aimless metal-head friends, Wayne and Garth. From Wayne’s basement, the pair broadcast a talk-show called “Wayne’s World” on local public access television. The show comes to the attention of a sleazy network executive who wants to produce a big-budget version of “Wayne’s World”—and he also wants Wayne’s girlfriend, a rock singer named Cassandra. Wayne and Garth have to battle the executive not only to save their show, but also Cassandra. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Wayne Campbell: Mike Myers Garth Algar: Dana Carvey Benjamin Kane: Rob Lowe Cassandra: Tia Carrere Stacy: Lara Flynn Boyle Dreamwoman: Donna Dixon Security Guard: Chris Farley Noah Vanderhoff: Brian Doyle-Murray Alan: Michael DeLuise Tiny: Meat Loaf Bad Cop / T-1000: Robert Patrick Alice Cooper: Alice Cooper Glen: Ed O’Neill Mrs. Vanderhoff: Colleen Camp Terry: Lee Tergesen Russell Finley: Kurt Fuller Davy: Mike Hagerty Ron Paxton: Charles Noland Elyse: Ione Skye Frankie Sharp: Frank DiLeo Waitress: Robin Ruzan Officer Koharski: Frederick Coffin Old Man Withers: Carmen Filpi Film Crew: Original Music Composer: J. Peter Robinson Screenplay: Mike Myers Executive Producer: Hawk Koch Director of Photography: Theo van de Sande Director: Penelope Spheeris Producer: Lorne Michaels Editor: Malcolm Campbell Stunts: Hannah Kozak Stunts: Alisa Christensen Associate Producer: Dinah Minot Associate Producer: Barnaby Thompson Screenplay: Bonnie Turner Screenplay: Terry Turner Casting: Glenn Daniels Production Design: Gregg Fonseca Second Unit Director: Allan Graf First Assistant Director: John Hockridge Second Assistant Director: Joseph J. Kontra Set Decoration: Jay Hart Camera Operator: Martin Schaer “B” Camera Operator: David Hennings First Assistant Camera: Henry Tirl First Assistant “B” Camera: Peter Mercurio Steadicam Operator: Elizabeth Ziegler Script Supervisor: Adell Aldrich Sound Mixer: Tom Nelson Boom Operator: Jerome R. Vitucci Additional Editor: Earl Ghaffari Assistant Editor: Ralph O. Sepulveda Jr. Assistant Editor: Ann Trulove Assistant Editor: Brion McIntosh Supervising Sound Editor: John Benson Sound Effects Editor: Beth Sterner Sound Effects Editor: Joseph A. Ippolito Sound Effects Editor: Frank Howard Dialogue Editor: Michael Magill Dialogue Editor: Simon Coke Dialogue Editor: Bob Newlan Supervising ADR Editor: Allen Hartz Foley Supervisor: Pamela Bentkowski Assistant Sound Editor: Carolina Beroza Assistant Sound Editor: Thomas W. Small Foley Artist: Ken Dufva Foley Artist: David Lee Fein Foley Mixer: Greg Curda ADR Mixer: Bob Baron ADR Voice Casting: Barbara Harris Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Andy Nelson Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Steve Pederson Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Tom Perry Music Supervisor: Maureen Crowe Supervising Music Editor: Steve Mccroskey Set Designer: Lisette Thomas Set Designer: Gae S. Buckley Special Effects Makeup Artist: Thomas R. Burman Special Effects Makeup Artist: Bari Dreiband-Burman Makeup Artist: Courtney Carell Makeup Artist: Mel Berns Jr. Hairstylist: Kathrine Gordon Hairstylist: Barbara Lorenz Hairstylist: Carol Meikle Costume Supervisor: Pat Tonnema Costumer: Janet Sobel Costumer: Kimberly Guenther Durkin Location Manager: Ned R. Shapiro Assistant Location Manager: Serena Baker Second Second Assistant Director: John G. Scotti Property Master: Kirk Corwin Assistant Property Master: Peter A. Tullo Assistant Property Master: Jim Stubblefield Leadman: Robert Lucas Special Effects Coordinator: Tony Vandenecker Chief Lighting Technician: Jono Kouzouyan Production Office Coordinator: Lynne White Unit Publicist: Tony Angelotti Still Photographer: Suzanne Tenner Craft Service: Vartan Chakarian Transportation Coordinator: James Thornsberry Color Timer: David Bryden Negative Cutter: Theresa Repola Mohammed Title Designer: Dan Curry Second Unit Director of Photography: Robert M. Stevens Stunts: Tony Brubaker Stunt Double: Steve Kelso Movie Reviews: tmdb15435519: I wish I could dress the exact same every day and still be cool.

[annieandro]

Executive Producer: Cassie Kitchen

Story Editor: Doug Tennapel

Line Producer:Joshua Slice

Production Coordinators: Craig McCracken, Noah Z Jones

Production Assistants: Butch Hartman, Eric Coleman

Script Coordinator: Jose Chavez

Executive Assistant: Maddie Manges Character Designer: Lankybox

Layout Designers: Speekygeeky, Riffcoms Prop Designers: Eric Robles, Colors 358

Background Painter: Nikki Karlsson

Color Key Stylist: Dre Higbee

Final Checker: Nickcheezy Clean-up Artist: Carl Jung, Henry Miller, Sir Francis Bacon

Storyboard Revisions: John Erwin, Nancy Priddy, Michael Bell

Starring: Annieandro: Cassie Kitchen

Maisy: Gracie Jones

Little Miss Cassie: Phoebe Fortney

Zapper: Tom Kenny

Tetro: Doug Lawrence

Prowler: Bill Hader

Pouncer: Wizardzwiz

Predator: Gooseworx

Mailman Pelswick: Rob Paulsen

Umberta: Jocelyn Clark

Tyler: Darrell Stern

Chatters: Tara Strong

Jumper: Allan Trautman

Giggle: Leslie Carrara Rudolph

Bumper-oo: Kevin Clash

Nizzie: Stacy Gordon

Lotta: Grey Desleslie

Crossbone: David Kaye

Nimble: Kevin MacDonald

Zap-Zap: Frank Oz

Cozy: Lizzie Freeman

Puddles: Michael Kovach

Buckthorn: Robert Tinkler

Tutu: Sonya Leite

Katie: Cindi Milo

Pavo: David Hornsby

Aquila: Christian Jacobs

Ursa Major: Lara Jill Miller

Orion: Ariel Winter

Hercules: Wayne Knight

Flutterbutter: Amanda Hufford

Eden: Gary Yudman

Aquarius: Paul Wensley

Pisces: Jo Vannicola

Aries: Nika Futterman

Taurus: Steve Little

Gemini: Lucas Slice

Cancer: Hynden Walch

Leo: Dee Bradley Baker

Virgo: Ellie Ellwand

Libra: Billy West

Scorpio: Fred Stoller

Sagittarius: Cree Summer

Capricorn: Sean Chiplock

Casting By: Ryan's World Casting Coordinator: EventubeHD Casting Assistant: Allison Gatewood Supervising Recording Engineer: AJ Lyles Recording Engineer: Trainlover16

Production Dialogue Supervisor: Devinurdog Dialogue Editor: Tweeterman287

Picture Editor: Zee's Branch Assistant Editor: Dimon CamiPost Production Supervisor: Kan and Aki's Channel Big Scanning Department: Mr.George, Genevieve's Playhouse

Additional Post Production Services: Craig Mario Fan, Nostalgia Cat Picture Editior: My Friends Assistant Editor: My Family Post Production Supervisor: My Classmates Bg Scanning Department: Arlene Klasky, Tom Yohe Additional Post Production Services: Gabor Csupo, AJRaider Post Production Services: Teri Weiss Telecine Colorist: Rico Hill

Animation Production Services: Public Broadcasting Service Special Thanks To: Steve Burns, The Wiggles, The Return Of Cakey, The Beatles, and The Sesame Street Rock and Roll Request Show, and The Children's Hospitals From All 50 States

Production Executive: Aubrey Cox Executive In Charge Of Production: Joe Biden

CTW Provides Partial Funding For Annieandro Pinkpaws Through Its Self-Support Activities.

[donnatroyprincessofthemyscira]

Marvel Comics New Releases for Wednesday, August 9, 2023

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover A John Romita Jr.), $9.99

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover B Elena Casagrande Women Of Marvel Variant), AR

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover C George Perez), AR

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover D George Perez Virgin Variant), AR

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover E Greg Land), AR

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover F Greg Land Virgin Variant), AR

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover G Jim Cheung), AR

Amazing Spider-Man #31 (Cover H John Tyler Christopher Negative Space Variant), AR

Amazing Spider-Man Omnibus Volume 4 HC (Frank Cho Book Market Cover)(New Printing), $125.00

Amazing Spider-Man Omnibus Volume 4 HC (John Romita Sr. Direct Market Cover)(New Printing), $125.00

Avengers #4 (Cover A Stuart Immonen), $3.99

Avengers #4 (Cover B Carmen Carnero), AR

Avengers #4 (Cover C Alex Ross Connecting Avengers Variant Part B), AR

Avengers #4 (Cover D Alex Ross Connecting Avengers Virgin Sketch Variant Part B), AR

Avengers #4 (Cover E Mark Brooks Corner Box Variant), AR

Avengers War Across Time TP, $17.99

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover A Mike McKone), $3.99

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover B George Perez), AR

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover C George Perez Virgin Variant), AR

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover D Paolo Villanelli Design Variant), AR

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover E Ron Lim), AR

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover F Rose Besch), AR

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover G Rose Besch Virgin Variant), AR

Captain Marvel Dark Tempest #2 (Of 5)(Cover H Lucas Werneck Stormbreakers Variant), AR

Children Of The Vault #1 (Of 4)(Cover A Yanick Paquette), $4.99

Children Of The Vault #1 (Of 4)(Cover B Betsy Cola Miss Minutes Variant), AR

Children Of The Vault #1 (Of 4)(Cover C Paolo Siqueira), AR

Children Of The Vault #1 (Of 4)(Cover D Rod Reis), AR

Daredevil Epic Collection Volume 17 Into The Fire TP, $49.99

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover A Ryan Stegman), $4.99

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover B Mark Texeira), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover C Frank Miller), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover D Frank Miller Virgin Variant), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover E George Perez), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover F George Perez Virgin Variant), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover G Aaron Kuder Miss Minutes Variant), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover H Ghost Rider Insignia Virgin Variant), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover I Wolverine Insignia Virgin Variant), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover J Ghost Rider Insignia Variant), AR

Ghost Rider Wolverine Weapons Vengeance Alpha #1 (Of 4)(Cover K Wolverine Insignia Variant), AR

Guardians Of The Galaxy #5 (Cover A Marco Checchetto), $3.99

Guardians Of The Galaxy #5 (Cover B Kyle Hotz), AR

Guardians Of The Galaxy #5 (Cover C Luciano Vecchio), AR

Guardians Of The Galaxy #5 (Cover D Todd Nauck G.O.D.S. Variant), AR

Immortal X-Men #14 (Cover A Mark Brooks), $3.99

Immortal X-Men #14 (Cover B Elizabeth Torque), AR

Immortal X-Men #14 (Cover C Phil Noto Quiet Council Variant), AR

Invincible Iron Man By Gerry Duggan Volume 1 Demon In The Armor TP, $19.99

Miles Morales Spider-Man #9 (Cover A Dike Ruan), $3.99

Miles Morales Spider-Man #9 (Cover B Miguel Mercado), AR

Miles Morales Spider-Man #9 (Cover C Mateus Manhanini), AR

Red Goblin #7 (Cover A InHyuk Lee), $3.99

Silk #4 (Of 5)(Cover A Dave Johnson), $3.99

Spider-Man Annual #1 (Cover A R. B. Silva), $4.99

Spider-Man Annual #1 (Cover B Gabriele Dell’Otto), AR

Star Wars #37 (Cover A Stephen Segovia), $4.99

Star Wars #37 (Cover B Chris Sprouse Return Of The Jedi 40th Anniversary Variant), AR

Star Wars #37 (Cover C Giuseppe Camuncoli Obi-Wan Star Wars Clone Wars 15th Anniversary Variant), AR

Star Wars #37 (Cover D Luciano Vecchio), AR

Star Wars #37 (Cover E Phil Noto), AR

Star Wars Return Of The Jedi Max Rebo #1 (Cover A Ryan Brown), $4.99

Star Wars Return Of The Jedi Max Rebo #1 (Cover B Lee Garbett Connecting Variant), AR

Star Wars Return Of The Jedi Max Rebo #1 (Cover C Valerio Giangiordano), AR

Star Wars Return Of The Jedi Max Rebo #1 (Cover D Ryan Brown Virgin Variant), AR

Thor Epic Collection Volume 17 In Mortal Flesh TP (New Printing), $44.99

Thor The Mighty Avenger TP, $13.99

Ultimate Invasion #1 (Of 4)(2nd Printing Cover A R. B. Silva), $8.99

Werewolf By Night #33 (Facsimile Edition), $3.99

ABRAMS APPLESEED

Avengers My Mighty Marvel First Book Board Book HC, $12.99

[doggyboyf]

WARNING: extremely long poorly written post ! dbd skin/character concepts ive been thinking about tonight/i just want to see bc some of these are based on these being easy ideas and others being impractical that i just wanna see Nemesis: this is brought on by my 1. dislike of his blighted skin and 2. realization of what a missed opportunity it is to not give him a Mr. X skin, its literally perfect they're both tyrants with almost the exact same build, only issue is X's gloves :/ i don't see a way to make nemmie's visible infection rate work or his tentacle make sense so i admit that's an issue, but... maybe his late game look could work better? sadly that does get rid his iconic look i'd actually want for the skin tho hgvbhjbvhb 2nd concept i have for nemmie is impractical and would possibly better as a skin for a non RE killer but i'd just love to see it and that's a RE1 tyrant skin, i just love the original tyrant design Wesker: imo an impractical skin i just want to see wld be his re5 final boss design, he just looks fucked up and i love it hvbhjhbhjhb Misc: 4: i only have one full idea and that's the plaga knights for knight, it just works really well hbhjhbghjhb 7: i absolutely love the idea of a re7 eveline skin for sadako/onryo but that's licensed on licensed so yknow, not gonna work hgvhjhgvhb, a lucas baker skin for legion would actually be so cool but they already have hunk, his build fits perfect for frank tho WAHHHHh i want that rlly bad now hes so yucky i love him hvhjhgbhb, marguerite baker while itd a be a stretch would be a really fucking cool skin for plague, her lantern would fit perfectly for plague's weapon and she could spit out bugs instead of vomit (i know that like, isnt something that go through the effort to do, i just think it's really cool hgvhjhgbh) and lastly jack baker would work really well for trapper, he honestly just fits perfectly ^^ 8: another licensed on licensed skin that wouldn't work but i love the idea of, donna beneviento/her doll angie for chucky, it'd genuinely work so well, just like in the game shed be in the background while angie takes front stage as chucky doing the killing, donna only actually appearing when picking up a surv just like charles ghost does for chucky, another legion skin idea,, (i love legion jhbhjhb) the dimitrescu daughters i think would really work well as skins for them but im also thinking theyd work for nurse! i feel like consider lady d's popularity shed be a skin people would want but i genuinely just don't see anyone she'd work for? plus her height makes things,, difficult jhbhjhbgh, i do have an idea for moreau! i think blight would work perfectly! lastly mother miranda... she'd have to be a skin for plague i think, but i could see nurse working too, i prefer plague tho hvbhjhbhb Pig: honestly i think she wouldnt be that hard to modify but that's probably just my lack of game design understanding, i think these concepts fall more into a "i just want to see these" mindset but i rlly think they're reasonable, i think a john kramer skin would be rlly good, already got his cloack basically modeled bvbhjhgbvhb, i also think in the same vein a hoffman skin would be rlly cool but i think thatd require a whole remodel Survivor concepts: Saw: i would've liked to see ppl like adam and lawrence or daniel (i love him but he rlly isnt important enough hghh) RE: 1: barry :3 i just love barry <3 4: ashley <3 she deserves to be in the game as a skin at least imo 5: excella gionne, shes an antagonist tho so i dunno, josh stone! i like josh a lot and i'd love if he were there 7/8: ethan winters! i really would love to see ethan in the game, i am a huge mia fan so i gotta say i would be so fucking happy with a re7 mia survivor with like a re8 look skin but i 100% want her base design to be re7, lastly just a skin of chris's re8 look :3