Damian Wayne has come up with his best idea yet, and he knows it. He’s spent weeks working on his little “project”, and now it is finally time for it to play out.

He gathers a group of women and men all carrying on the mantle of The Bat. Finally, with his family gathered around patiently waiting, he unveils his project: a mannequin covered in black and red leather, armor, weapons, and technology.

Jason is the first to ask, since Damian clearly isn’t planning on explaining the costume,

“What are you supposed to be? Slightly modified Robin?”

Damian responds coolly, as if he’d practiced these words in front of a mirror for hours,

“Actually, Todd, I have decided to be called Redder Robin.”

It takes about three seconds before all hell breaks loose. Jason
laughs so hard he is crying, Barbara is hiding her smile under a hand, and Stephanie is slack jawed. Tim stands up, so filled with rage that he can barley speak.

“This isn’t happening to me, things like this don’t happen to people”, he rants to the group as if they were a pannel of judges. He then turns his attention to Dick,

“There has to be a rule about this right? An anti one upping one?”

Dick looks at a lost for words, torn between laughter, anger, confusion, and shock. He has no answers, and shifts his eyes to Bruce hoping to find some.

Bruce’s face is blank, as usual with the man. The whole family stares at him, some laughing, some fuming, all waiting for a response. Eventually he sighs,

“Robin, put this charade away and get ready for patrol. Ten minutes.”

“Yes father.” Damian replies dutifully before dismantling his make shift identity. By now, most of the family has stormed off, except for Jason and Tim, who stand in silent shock before Jason bursts out laughing once more.

“I can’t believe the brat punked us. Maybe I do have a good brother.”

Tim gives “Say what you want but you and I both know you adore me” look, and Jason smiles cheekily,

“Maybe I should say good-er brother.”

So the Once pilot has what I like to all Cheap-Pilot-Costume-itis.  Or… why did Regina decide to show up to Snow’s wedding in tight leather pants a cape with dead birds attached to it and a doily on her head.

Regina, look at your life, look at your choices.

imari-chan asked:

Really dumb question! In that costume photo set you posted, what in the world is that elastic band thing on the inside of the slave girl bodice? It's fine if you don't know, of course. But if anyone can answer this, it's gotta be you!

Oooh, I’m flattered! You mean this piece?

It’s a “belt”, a waistband, with two purposes. It anchors the bodice to the waist, so it will stay put, especially important for the ballerinas when they spin and do floorwork. This waistband is also usually slightly narrower than the bodice, so eventual straining will be put on the band instead of the many seams.

You’d think the detail is new or specific for ballet costumes, but it’s not. You’ll find it in many Victorian bodices as well. Though they wouldn’t use an elastic band, but rather a solid waist tape of twill or similar, and often it would be tacked to the central seams in the back instead of inserted into loops. But the purpose would be the same as the Phantom costume - it prevents the bodice from wandering, and it can take some pressure of the seams. In addition some dress makers may put their trademark/label here.

Here’s an 1876 reception bodice seen from the inside:

And you can read more here:

anonymous asked:

Any tips for fat mandalorian s?

In short: build your armor like anyone else. :D Naturally the armor plates will be bigger/wider to suit your body, but it really isn’t much different for larger Mercs. There are patterns and styles that suit different body shapes better, the Legacy style with it’s overlapping plates is very popular with people who choose to look like a walking tank (and carry as many guns), but Boba/Jango style plates are easily adapted to a bigger frame. 

For example: below is a selection of Mercs from the LA area’s Manda’galaar Clan. They’re a pretty good cross section of sizes that you run into in the Mercs, and 5 of six use classic Mandalorian armor suited to their sizes.

Hope that helps.


Crimson Peak: And That’s All It Is

I think Crimson Peak is the first Del Toro directed film I’ve really enjoyed since Devil’s Backbone.  I like it as a purely aesthetic exercise, the attention to detail in set design, costume design(by Kate Hawley), lighting, and occasionally composition is really affecting.  It reminded me a lot of what I like in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which is one of my favorite films of all-time.  So I actually ended up spending a lot of the film trying to figure out why Bram Stoker’s is one of my all-time favorite movies, and Crimson Peak is not something I really think I’ll remember nearly as fondly(even though obviously there are things I love with it).

So costume design–both films are great there.  I didn’t really think much of Jessica Chastain’s costumes, though the way that they used the bows and ribbons and knots to shape into spider-ish shapes on the back of some of the dresses was really cool.  I didn’t really think much of Tom Huddleston’s costumes, which are kinda…typical for the genre.  Most of the top dresses belong to Mia Wasikowska–I liked their high shoulders, and the fabric which refracted the cool lighting choices of the film–I also like the white dress they used for the end, and I liked how wild her hair was all blown out against that dress–it really made the final fight much more primal in a way that mixed with the red clay, the blood, and the snow, upped my feelings on the film considerably.

But again, I think about it in comparison to Bram Stoker’s–and the designs there more than match the dramatic weight that Crimson Peak uses for the clothes designs–but then ups it.  The costumes in Bram Stoker’s are of that sort, like Cries and Whispers, where their abstract shapes, their dramatic colors–the sheer loudness of their design moves the tone of the picture.  There’s nothing in Crimson Peak that matches Lucy’s costume when she comes down into the crypt.  And I think the more plunging dramatic dresses of Bram Stoker up the trashiness of that movie–it gives it that heightened gothic romance heat that I felt Crimson Peak never hit.  Crimson Peak could never really sort it’s feet out romantically, because the story’s construction couldn’t allow you to know the truth of Tom Hiddleston’s heart–and I don’t mean in terms of his feelings for Mia.  It makes the twist at the end much less wrenching and hysterical because the work hasn’t been put in visually or dramatically for you to understand Jessica Chastain’s character at all.  Compare that with the end of Bram Stoker, which also rests on a similar sort of triangle and there’s just more weight in Winona’s space between Harker and Dracula–which gives Dracula’s death a much greater tragedy than what we get in Crimson Peak.  And yes, some of that is story construction, and pacing–which I’ll get into–but the costumes of Stoker are a serious component of that fire.  There’s no eroticism to Crimson Peak’s costume design, by comparison they are very conservative designs–and I think it speaks to an overall lack of sexiness to Crimson Peak.  Which I hate to tell you, is a key component in good gothic romance!  Romance is about sex and death.  You don’t get that balance right, you don’t have romance.

The setting itself is wonderful.  I loved the bleeding walls, the cluttered rooms, the spiky arches, the snow that would come down from the roof–it was truly a remarkable setting, that exceeded anything in Bram Stoker.  But Del Toro’s films have always been very good in this way.  His settings are always very world building.  Though I mean, this is no Suspiria either.  There is an affectation to the overall setting that keeps it from being overwhelmingly brilliant.  I also didn’t find that Del Toro really mapped the space all that effectively.  Even though it’s this huge house, it really is just three spaces in the end–which when you compare it to something like the Innocents which has I think a similar geographical space, even though it has a much more expansive dramatic space.  One of the things I like with Lovecraft, or like…a Lucio Fulci film is the subterranean space–which Del Toro often tries to get at in his films–but my feeling here was that the basement we went to, was not as far down as we could go.  And that basement is actually a fairly small space.  If this were a Fulci film it would expand past what is reasonable.  Think about the basement in The Beyond, which is so expansive, it actually bleeds into the local hospital, and into hell itself.  Lovecraft does that a lot too–these hidden cities where the old gods lay–I felt like that was what was being evoked in Crimson Peak–but it was never explored–which I think is a larger point about Crimson Peak, it evokes quite a lot, but for some reason it never finds time for itself to really show those things.

Which I think gets into a big problem with Del Toro’s direction and the editing of this film, versus Coppola and Bram Stoker’s–which is I think a much faster film.  But even though it is a faster film, that basically trots around the globe and through time, quite dramatically, I never felt short changed.  Even though Del Toro is lingering longer in spaces than Coppola did, and spending a lot of real estate to show us his ghosts–ghosts which in the end, are themselves not really fully explored beyond how they relate to our protagonist–the slip there is that at times we’re made to think that Mia needs to resolve things for these ghosts–but that’s not the case at all, she’s meant to resolve her own personal arc, which the ghosts are in service of–but their utility in that discovery is actually pretty limited especially considering how much time is spent showing them.  Like just the one ghost showing up while Mia is taking a bath–that’s a…what 3 or 4 minute scene–where the only payoff is that “ooo scary ghost, I better go explore”–I’m not sure if that was the most efficient way to do that for what the movie ends up being.  So what you get is this weird medium with Crimson Peak where it’s not a fast enough movie to find its dramatic footing, but it’s also not focused enough properly to take advantage of its slower pace to develop a more meaningful existential drama.  Which I think is a charge you level at a lot of Del Toro’s films to be honest.  For someone who wants to do horror, he is too middle.  He’s too polished to create trash, but he’s not got enough to say to go to the other extreme.  It’s also really hard to find a movie in his whole career where he truly effectively could convey a real human drama.  Devil’s Backbone is the closest, and there were hints of possibilities in Chronos–but a decade of films like Hellboy, Pan’s Labyrinth, and Pacific Rim have left him not only undeveloped in that respect, but actually regressed.  I wonder if he had been able to make this film as a younger man, if it would not have been much better?  Who knows though.  I mean his predilections have always been toward monsters.  But what I’ve never understood is that despite his fascination with monsters–it’s always been a surface fascination–he’s always been interested in depicting the extremity of their aspect, but he rarely evokes an understanding of them.

The ghosts in Crimson Peak are a good example of this.  The logic of their colors, how they move, and their behavior–is very well thought out aesthetically–and they are really pretty to look at–but think about the weight someone like James Whale imbues similar monsters with?  Or staying on Frankenstein–think about a Bernie Wrightson drawing of Frankenstein–there’s something captured there–both Whale and Wrightson leave something of themselves in their monsters–there’s a tragic weight to them which is where the horror comes from.  Monsters are horrifying in the ways in which they both resemble us, and do not.  And I would say that Del Toro’s monsters lack in the abjection necessary to get away with not holding a greater personal value in his films.  So what I mean when I say that is that the other extreme would be like…the zombies in a Fulci film–which aren’t touched by any kind of human weight to their personality–but are so abject and disgusting, that they can be horrifying in that way instead.  That is not the case with Del Toro’s film’s creatures.  None of them are disgusting.  In fact, it’s clear he intends to invoke a fascination with them–they are meant for you to marvel at their spectacle–which is the complete opposite thing!  His monsters are kind, and generally in his movies, the humans are the real monsters–but for that to hit home, you have to be on that Whale level.  You have to give these creatures a tortured humanity.  Think about the red Italian lady ghost in Crimson Peak, she’s holding this baby, and we think it’s her baby–so there’s an attempt to give us traction in that respect, but in the very next scene it’s “oh it’s not her baby” –but then we don’t really get into like–okay so she was caring for this other lady’s baby–that’s a whole complicated thing!  What does that mean?  And it’s only a line.  So again, it’s this thing where everything is at odds with itself.  It’s a mess.  The ghosts are not abject, and their characterization is so muddled that they lack the humanity to be monstrous in that respect.  And then they are largely backgrounded to the human’s dramatic arc–which is shortchanged on time to develop because…duh duh duh…GOTTA SHOW THE MONSTERS.

It’s a mess.  And to be fair, it’s a mess which is now a feature of all of Del Toro’s work.  So the question isn’t even to label it as a mistake.  This is what he offers as an artist.  This idea.  It doesn’t work for me.  It’s too middle.  Coppola with Bram Stoker is huge.  He makes huge risky decisions left and right.  The gestures are extreme.  It’s not that failure is not an option, it’s that he simply does not care about failure.  He is so rabid in the pursuit of the depiction of what he has inside him that it hits me in the chest.  I have watched that movie over and over a million times.  And I will watch it a million times more.  When you are confronted with that kind of passion in art, it’s impossible to ever get enough.  Artists like Del Toro, they don’t offer you this.  They aren’t challenging.  There is no extremity to it on either end.  Which I think is fine for most people.  Films that offer extremity tend to be very polarizing.  I was happy with Crimson Peak. But it reminds me of a movie like Only Lover’s Left Alive–but probably slightly below that, because at least there Jarmusch gave me good Swinton, and that great driving scene–but both films are lacking for me in terms of what will stay with me.  A modern horror film that people don’t really talk about, like Byzantium is I think much better than either–even if it’s not perhaps as cool a movie to like.  I don’t know.

Actually the great sin of Crimson Peak is that you give me Mia Wasikowska and Jessica Chastain–and largely leave them fairly sedate for most of the film.  OMG if this movie had been them in open revulsion with one another, I would have loved it.  The end of the film should have been the whole film.  I’ve seen Jessica Chastain and Mia Wasikowska give the type of performances which would have made this a truly epic goth romance.  But Del Toro never asks it of them.  I mean going back to Only Lover’s Left Alive which stars Mia and Tom Hiddleston and compare what Jarmusch got out of both with what we got here.  Now some of that is that Del Toro just doesn’t make stories that ask for that kind of thing–he likes his women to be these innocent girls for the most part, who childishly explore a fantastic world–but goddamn, you went through the trouble of casting these two powerful women, change things up!

I think Mia Wasikowska is a better artist as an actor than Del Toro is as a director.  Chastain as well.  And Del Toro staying fast on that ruining anything good I think about Charlie Hunnum.  Tom Hiddleston does absolutely nothing for me.  It’s weird that people criticize Keanu Reeves as an actor but then fan-up around people like Hiddleston who is not even half the actor.  Compare Reeves’ Harker which a lot of people blast him for because of the accent, to Hiddleston.  I think Reeves presence on screen is vastly underrated, and Hiddleston has absolutely none of that.  Reeves is an exceptional physical actor in terms of how he commands the screen.  Also has great versatility.  I don’t think Hiddleston could carry an action film the way that Reeves has over and over.  He just doesn’t have the gravitas.  Which would have really helped Crimson Peak, because so much of Hiddleston’s character rests on communicating to the audience the truth of his passions without conveying them directly to the cast–that kind of complicated layered performance was lacking here–and when he needed to hit the extreme dramatic moments, he lacks the weight of a great cult actor–Christopher Lee in that role could have by himself made Crimson Peak a classic.

It’s weird, writing it all out like this, it makes it seem like I hated the movie–when I actually liked it!!  I love the castle/mansion, I want to live there and wear all the clothes, hang out with all my ghost pals, and I would be totally fine with whatever Chastain and Tom wanted to do.  You want my money? fine.  I don’t care.  I just want to live here.  We can be pals!  It’s a big house too, surely they’d like some help keeping things going.  We’d have to fix the dog situation though.  Little dogs are alright, but let’s get some giant beasts patrolling the land, do this proper.

I also enjoyed the violence, and I liked that the climax of the film is two crazy women hacking each other to bits in the snow.  More of that please.  They should have made it like a Shaw brothers thing, with both like commanding their various ghosts at each other, and some crazy wire action.  I mean maybe not, but I just wish that part of the film had been ten minutes longer.

Anyways.  Those are my thoughts on Crimson Peak.  To summarize:  I like the bit where a bloodied chastain comes down blood painted stairs with a deranged look in her eye.

-Sarah Horrocks