director at large

anonymous asked:

Shit I'm GAY tell me about Steve pls I love him

He’s what I wish I looked like if I were a good-looking spicy meatball dad D:

Steve’s a self-insert pretty much! Except better! He’s an art director at a large videogame company, something of a metalhead, not a morning person at all and likes to chill with a beer in the evenings while binge-watching crime shows. 

He treads a fine line between ‘cool’ and ‘embarrassing’ dad, he has the power to humiliate his kid with his dad-ness or impress their little friends (depends on how hot the other parents are and if they’re present at the time). 

He wears thumb rings. Prone to sulk on occasion. 

Also a shitposter on social media and the amount of memes in his phone almost almost surpasses that of the pics he’s taken of his child.

so we went to this amusement park last year for a parade and i remember watching my two band directors go on this large swinging ride together

and well the young band director looked like he was gonna cry from fear and was practically clinging to our older director who just straight-faced yelled at him “STOP SCREAMING. YOU ARE AN ADULT. THIS ISNT SCARY”

latimes.com
Hulu's 'Harlots' challenges the typical TV depiction of prostitutes as nameless sidekicks or props
From the new Hulu series 'Harlots' to 'Game of Thrones,' 'The Knick,' 'Emerald City' and more, brothels have always been a TV staple
By Lorraine Ali

Faceless as they are, television’s ladies for hire have certainly multiplied. If you were to judge the female population based off their representation in the last decade’s programming alone, it would appear more like 4 out of 5 women sell sex for money, and they all happen to look like swimsuit models — just without the swimsuit.

You’ll find them in, to name just a few, “The Girlfriend Experience,” “Emerald City,” “Billions,” “Anger Management,” “Goliath,” “The Knick,” “Taboo,” “Sons of Anarchy,” “Ripper Street,” “Boardwalk Empire,” “True Detective,” “Training Day,” “Ray Donovan,” “House of Cards,” “Secret Diary of a Call Girl,” “Hawaii Five-0” and the various flavors of “Law & Order,” “CSI” and “NCIS.” Remember the HBO drinking game — take a shot every time they show a scene in the whorehouse or strip club? Audiences are still drunk.

And viewed through the male gaze of the hero, as they almost always are, the working women of TV are a fail-safe plot device. They’re the hooker with a heart of gold that he hopelessly falls for, the imperiled hooker he saves, the hooker he brazenly uses, the dead hooker who’s a clue in the case he must solve. They’re the perfect backdrop to help define his dilemma, and require almost no setup when it comes to staging those ubiquitous, hot sex scenes in unlikely places. And that’s when they are afforded the dignity of being a plot device as opposed to mere titillating window dressing.

But with “Harlots,” television’s favorite wallpaper now has its own show.

The Hulu series, which premieres Wednesday, doesn’t just visit the brothel, it lives there among the women of London’s 18th century sex trade. It’s their perspective that drives the narrative and, it turns out, prostitution looks a lot different through the eyes of a woman in the business. (A British co-production, the show airs two days earlier on ITV.)

“Harlots” is a frank depiction of women forced into the profession by poverty, class or birth, but not an entirely desperate one. The sex scenes here are neither titillating nor horrifying, gratuitously explicit or unnecessarily judgmental. They are simply a function of the job.

Bodices aren’t ripped in passion, but rather skirts lifted for the sake of practicality and time. The quickies in an alley are just that, quickies, and it’s onto the next John … or maybe a lunch break.

The women’s lives beyond these paid transactions is where the real story is.

The Wells family is building a small empire off their hard work. Margaret (Samantha Morton) owns and runs a brothel in a hardscrabble section of the city. She was born into this life: Her own mother sold her at age 10 for a pair of shoes. But she’s made the best of the hand she was dealt, and unlike most of the women in 1700s London, she is a small business owner. Now Margaret is pimping out her own daughters, Lucy (Eloise Smyth) and Charlotte (Jessica Brown Findlay).

Her appalling choice is not without guilt, but whatever maternal instincts she has are countered by her goal to raise enough money to buy a home in the upscale neighborhood of Soho.

“Money is a woman’s only power in this world,” says Margaret. “This city’s made of our flesh, every beam, every brick. We’ll have our piece of it.”

There is competition, however. Formidable madam Lydia Quigley (Lesley Manville), who runs a classier crosstown bordello in a more respectable part of London, is intent on destroying Margaret’s business. Their brilliant and ruthless tactics to undermine each other rival that of the competing agencies of “Mad Men.”

The eight-part series was influenced by “Harris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies,” a directory to London whoring written by patrons and pimps in the 1700s. The guide, published for nearly 40 years, was like a Yelp for sex trade customers that listed the specialties, talents and physical attributes of prostitutes in the highly trafficked area.

Created by Moira Buffini and Alison Newman, the show’s team of producers, directors and writers is largely female, which partially explains why “Harlots” is a fresh look at an age-old profession — and television trope.

The casting of Brown Findlay (formerly the feisty Lady Sybil of “Downton Abbey”) as the steely-eyed, calculating survivor Charlotte is a statement in itself. She moves among the powdered-wig upper crust with the confidence of a professional woman, which in contrast to the limited roles for ladies of that era, is empowering.

But “Harlots” is not a feminist proclamation that recasts the sex trade as something noble. It’s a series in which the prostitutes are treated by the show’s writers with the same levels of humanity and importance as the men who’ve historically used and defined them. Here, the Johns play a supporting role to the show’s real stars: complex, shrewd and conflicted women who, just like their customers, have ambitions and goals.

The first referendum on the Trump era will happen today in Kansas

  • Voters in Kansas’s 4th Congressional District will  head to the polls for the first congressional election since Trump’s presidential victory in November. 
  • The race to fill the seat once held by Trump CIA Director Mike Pompeo has largely been ignored by the national press because of Kansas’ deep-red conservative politics — Trump won the district by 27 points — until, that is, the Democrat surged.
  • Over the last few weeks, signs indicate that Democratic candidate James Thompson, a Bernie Sanders-inspired political outsider, might have a shot. Early voting among Democrats is way up in the district, and Thompson has raised an unusually large amount of money through grassroots fundraising — thanks in no part to the national Democratic Party.As a result, Republicans are in full-on panic mode. 

  • Over the past few days, the GOP has injected Republican candidate Ron Estes’ campaign with a last-minute infusion of cash, dispatched firebrand conservative Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) to campaign in the small Kansas district and recorded robocalls by both the Trump and Vice President Mike Pence — all to nail down what should have been a lay-up. Read more. (4/11/2017 9:30 AM)

I will remain strong

Recently I was removed from my position as Communications Manager at Pale Sea Inc, after a long and frustrating creative struggle with the Board of Directors who is largely made up of egotistical fish-crazy billionaire “philanthropists”. My job was onsite at a remote marine research base 1km off of the coast of Myggbukta, Greenland. It seemed like a dream job at first, but once you spend a few months in the arctic surrounded by these micromanagers telling you which fish you can and cannot post you start to lose it.

I am currently hiding in a large storage facility attached to the base, but I am constantly on the move to avoid detection. I’m not sure what happens to people when they are fired, but I am not going to stick around to find out. My current plan is to stow away on the next supply ship and get the hell out of here.

In the mean time, I will do whatever I can to elude security and disrupt their social media output. Serious seaweed, indeed.

-Your mod on the inside

Former Communications Manager, Pale Sea Institute Arctic Research Station

Softly, Hallelujah

For @axilarts​ / @axileana​, to whom I promised hurt!Newt to.

It’s in the middle of a meeting when Graves suddenly feels the band on his finger grow hot and agitated. He stops mid sentence, hands braced down on the end of the conference room table, as images flash across his mind’s eye – quick snap shots of things until finally, he has what he needs.

He presses his thumb to the underside of his ring finger and against the band itself and says, “I’m coming, hang on,” before turning to the room at large.

“Director Graves,” Picquery blinks, cool and composed but he can see in her gaze that she has at least some inkling of what has happened. “Everything alright?”

“I am afraid I must excuse myself,” is all he says and then he’s abusing his high security clearance to disapparate out of the meeting room and into the living room of the flat he shares with a certain Magizoologist. He finds the case atop their bed, a rather nervous looking Dougal sitting on its top most step – peering out, waiting.  The moment it sees him, it dips back into the case; obviously aware of what Graves has come for. Graves follows him down in a hurry, his feet flying down the rickety ladder, only to find that Newt is not in his little shack.

Keep reading

3

United Kingdom, 1962: A family house and studio for an art director

This large brick house is divided into three sections. The kitchen and informal dining space (with the front entrance) is between the living/dining/study wing and the sleeping wing, which has 5 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms.

House & Garden Book of Small Houses by Conde Nast Publications, 1962. (London, England, UK) —from my library

About the script of The Last Jedi

Reflecting on it now, you have no idea how happy I am that Carrie Fisher went through the TLJ-script with Rian Johnson and probably had him rewrite a few things in it. The fact that the director of a large franchise is even open to such an idea (unlike JJ Abrams) really shows how much he wants to write and deliver a good story to the audience. But it’s not just that - and hear me out first - I’m not saying that a man can’t write a good female character BUT - it happens way too often that some male directors/writes create female characters who are only one-dimensional, and who don’t have a real depth to them that will ever be explored. That’s why it feels so good to hear that Carrie Fisher, an exceptional writer but also a female (who understands females, lol), went through the script with Rian - since we have Rey, Leia, Rose, Laura Dern’s character and many more complex females in this upcoming movie that will be explored. And for that sole reason, I wouldn’t be surprised if “The Last Jedi” turned out to be my favorite movie of this trilogy.

Soulmate AU: Steve #1

Idk if this will be good but i left is so i might do more. yah

also:

 AU: Everyone gets a soul mark but its when you get it that’s the clincher. They can show up any time and you may not even notice until you next look at your palm. Some people have their soul marks from birth or very young and some don’t get them till their old, the latest recorded being seventy five in 2001. (And sometimes your soulmate is already dead.) The marks are like compass’s, always pointing in the direction of your destined partner (unless of course they are dead and then they don’t move.)

(Also always shows up on your palm so like you’ll know when it appears and you won’t have to deal with having a compass on your ass cheek.)


You hadn’t minded that your palms were still blank. These things happened. Your parents, a soul mate pairing had been married before their marks had appeared, a matched set. And then it had only been an added blessing, something neither had really thought about since they’d met. For them, their soul mates had just been figments because how could anyone be better than the one they were with. And they were right, a pair of unknowing soulmates.

Clapping your hands together, you looked back up at Director Fury and winked.

“Don’t sass me.” He grumbled lowly and you laughed. Rising, you closed the distance between the two of you and leant into his side, despite his sigh of false suffering.

“Do you think my soul mate is going to be some boring book nerd or an even more boring SHIELD agent?” You asked softly and Nick sighed again, giving you a look. You shrugged in response, waltzing a few steps away. “See, the thing is, I’m not really a loving person. You know that.”

He nodded a small movement so you paraded a few steps to the left.

“And what if they are? What if he’s a biker?” You thought about it for a moment, a slow grin spreading over your face. “A biker wouldn’t be so bad. We could be the most powerful pairing in the motorcycle world. But what if he’s in a boy band?”

A booming laugh escaped the eye patched man and you scowled. Fury didn’t laugh often, but when he did it was always at your expense.

“That’s not fair! You can’t laugh!” You snarled and he sobered quickly, issuing you with a harsh look.

“And why not?” He boomed back and you smiled sweetly.

“Because I said so and I am your superior.” You joked and he rolled his eyes. Not even your jokes got him laughing. Just your disappointing life. Or future disappointing life.


“Tony, this is Y/N.” Your eyes drifted over the billionaire and you bit your lip. His uninterested expression did an about face, suddenly becoming very interested.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N, was it?” He asked smoothly, voice full of knowing and seduction. You heard the slight rustle of Fury about to step in but you shifted slightly to block him and he stopped.

“Obviously. And you’re Tony who? Sorry, Nick wasn’t very clear.” You smirk and he blinks, once then twice before scowling up at Fury.

“Who is this kid?” He gripes and you laugh softly.

“That’s above your pay grade, suffice to say she’ll be around.” He non-answered succinctly and you fought down a belly laugh at the pout Tony hid as he walked away in a huff.

“Hey, Y/N.” Clint greeted a little flirtatiously and you went to him willingly, leaving Nick to brood in the corner.

“Hello, Sweetrobin.” You giggled, linking arms with him and pulling him further into the crowd. His arm pulled free of yours, instead wrapping around your shoulders and holding you close. Your eyes met his for a moment before you let your gaze dart away and refocus on the crowd. “Where is Tashie tonight?”

“She’s around.” He answered, mostly a brush off but you didn’t care. If she was here, it meant she would arrive soon to tear the bird off of you and replace him with herself. Something the two often fought over- who got to be on your arm that night.

A waiter passed and you reached out to nab a drink from the plate but you fumbled, eyes catching on a dark shape on your palm, and knocked over the glasses. Quick as a flash, Clint had you turned to make it look like he had caused the accident before grinning winningly at the staring crowd.

“Sorry about that, I’m not so great on the ground as I am up above.” He laughed and the waiter grinned dazedly before waving you and the Hawk off.

“You didn’t tell me you’d gotten your soulmate mark!” He crows, snatching your hand and cupping it gently in both of his. “Oh! It’s pointing at me! Looks like we’re getting married!” He laughed loudly but you remained silent, staring at the star with a paintbrush with a blade handle inset. The brush turned as you moved yours and Clints hands and you smiled a small smile.

“An artist. Maybe he paints in blood.” You wondered softly and Clint cringed dubiously.

“I hope not. Could you imagine you and another slayer? That’s… That’s my nightmare.” He laughed, which was cut off by Natasha appearing and snatching your palm from him.

“Oh! It’s lovely!” She winked a little and you rolled your eyes, pulling her close with your free hand until her hip bumped yours. Black Widows to the left, Hawkeyes to the right, here you are. Stuck in the middle again.

“We’re going to be unstoppable and you know it, Barton. Don’t doubt me and my artist.” You promised a little possessively, ignoring the look that passed between the two spys. You gently traced the line of the blade brush, which now pointed north east. “You know most artists are mad, right? I wouldn’t mind some madness.”

“Y/N.” Fury boomed, striding through the crowd like Moses parting the sea and your eyes went wide.

“I love it when he does that. Like a leather shadow, coming to swallow the world.” You marveled before darting forward and shoving your hand in his face. “He’s an artist!”

Clint shared a snicker with Natasha at your attitude in the face of a quietly angry Director. For a moment, the large mans eyes softened and he inclined his head in recognition, face otherwise blank and you preened.

“Y/N. We’re leaving, now.” He bit out, ruining the moment with Maria finally appearing beside him.

“He’s right. We’ve just got a call that requires our presence and you need to be taken home.” Maria explains a little less abruptly and you pout, shooting Barton and Romanoff pleading looks, but they shrug lazily.

Obviously Dumb and Dumber won’t be a help.

“What if I went home later and you guys can go do… Whatever elsewhere?” You offered with a wiggle of your eyebrows that had Nicks brows sinking lower in disappointment. And if Marias deeply offended expression was anything to go by, you were going to be in her dog house.

“Sorry.” You mouthed at her as Fury turned and started striding away and she glared at you. You wouldn’t be on her good side for a while now, that’s for sure. Instead, you gave in and followed the pair meekly, letting them drop you at the house you shared with Nick and then make their own exit.


You gazed at your mark, trying to draw it on a piece of paper fruitlessly. Your soul mate might be an artist, but you most certainly were not. Huffing angrily, you decided instead to simply take a picture. Photography was something you had a knack for, thankfully. Twisting carefully, you aligned your ridiculously expensive, and impressively sturdy camera with your palm, managing to capture it in the perfect way.

A few buttons later and you were able to set the image as your phone lock screen. With a small smile, you pulled on your gloves and shoved the device in your pocket.

Now that you actually had the mark, people would be able to use it against you, so you’d have to hide it. And getting used to wearing gloves is the first step. But setting it as your lock screen? That you could write off as your own whims, a dreamy mark you’d seen online until you finally had your own.

Glad to be done with that, you clambered to your feet and headed for Furys office, logging into his account and scrolling the files. People would probably be angry if they knew you had his verification and access to the secrets, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t upset them. And it’s not like he could keep you out anyway. Better you ease your boredom with secrets than assault.

You slowed, eyes pausing on the Avengers file. One of your favourites, a dream yet unrealised. Opening it, you parsed over the names like Thor Odinson and Tony Stark before pausing. Steve Rogers? A new name.

Excitement built in your breast and you stifled it, accrediting it to an update on something you hoped to be alive to see.

Steve Rogers AKA Captain America

Oh.

You’d heard of him. The daring war tales and his howling commandos.

You snickered a little at their name, perhaps military rationing had extended to underwear too. Scrolling some, you soon became engrossed in the mans history. It was impressive, so much so that the stalest way it could be written, the most unembellished, was still practically a fantasy. Sure, you lived in a similar fantasy but for his time?

Nice.


“Have you heard? The Fourth of July came early.” You whispered to Natasha who gave you a quizzical look. Right. The frozen body of the nineteen forties war hero called Captain America coming back to life would not be anywhere near her mind. “Captain America isn’t dead.”

Bluntness, the easiest way to avoid Natasha’s special interviews.

“What?”

“Am I supposed to repeat myself?” You sniped back, the knife you’d been making marks in the table with beginning on another line. 

“Are you listening, Agent?” Whoever was lecturing shot you a withering glare, which you shot right back.

“Am I supposed to? It’s not like I didn’t read your notes beforehand so this is old news.” You snarled, furious at being interrupted and that you’d been singled out. You watched as his eyes glowed with anger, the word insubordination practically steaming out his ears. You bowed your head, almost too late and gave him an embarrassed look through your lashes. He relaxed a little, eyes returning to their natural blankness, but not before you saw a flash of understanding shoot into his gaze.

Thank goodness for men and their instantaneous connection to menses every time a woman acts “the wrong way”.

“Not fair that you get away with that.” Natasha scolded you out of the corner of her mouth and you winked at her.

“Anyway, wanna sneak in and check out the body with me?” You challenged but she didn’t rise, her expression disinterested. You growl softly when she doesn’t even bother saying no, despite the fact that you knew she wouldn’t really be interested. “I’ll do it alone then.”

Probably a good thing- you aren’t in as precarious a position as her.


opinions: should i do more??

“Put me down, I can walk!”

@natecchi said:

His leg hurts so badly he can barely stand. He bites down a whimper as he leans on the nearby wall, supporting his weight off it and putting a bit less pressure on the injured leg. Scamander is beside him and breathes noisily through his nostrils when his eyes land on Percival’s nasty wound. His pants are ripped from his ankle down and the fabric is soaked with blood. When he can’t stand anymore and slides down the wall, Scamander helps him to sit more comfortably – well, as comfortable as sitting on some old pavement could feel – and rips the fabric of his pants further to have a better look at the wound.

By the way he grimaces, Percival deduces that it’s fucked up pretty badly.

Scamander touches it and it aches so much that Percival yelps in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Scamander mutters apologetically, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before inspecting the wound again. “I guess firstly, we have to stop the bleeding.”

He pulls out his wand and points it at Percival’s leg. He mutters a spell, then breathes with relief when the wound closes and the blood stops gushing. Percival sighs as a wave of tiredness washes over him. He closes his eyes for a moment, but opens them immediately when he feels hands snaking under his knees and behind his back. He barely has time to catch up with what’s happening and grabs onto the first thing he can – Scamander’s shoulders.

Scamander huffs as he lifts him up, bridal-style.

Percival turns ten shades of red.

What is wrong with this guy?! How can he just pick a man up like that and have this face like nothing actually is wrong about this situation?!

“Put me down, I can walk!” Percival yells in his ear and Scamander groans at the loud tone. He rolls his eyes at Percival and hisses through gritted teeth when Percival tries to get out of his ‘embrace’.

“You hardly can stand, director. And now, could you please stop moving? You’re quite heavy.”

“I’m not!”

EXCUSE ME, WOMAN - HOW DARE YOU COME AT ME WITH THIS ADORABLENESS?! And by “how dare you” I mean “bless you, you child of pure gold, for introducing this adorable fucking image into my life”.

Because honestly, Graves would be THE SALTIEST about this. 

When Newt finally gets the man back to his aurors, he has his arms crossed petulantly - a scowl carved deep into his face, but his blush is deeper still.

“Director Graves?” Tina squeaks, eyes wide at the sight of them.

“The director was struck in the ankle,” Newt says clinically. “I managed to stop the bleeding, but he can’t walk.”

“I can so walk,” Graves growls. It is only because his ear is right next to the man’s chest that he catches Newt’s chuckle - making him glare up at the man.

“Oh! Thank you, Newt. I can get him to a –”

“No, I have him,” Newt says, then continues on down the street, a suddenly flailing Graves in his grasp.

“What– Scamander! Put me down! There’s no need to– SCAMANDER!”

After that, Newt makes a point of finding reasons to pick up the shorter man. Even if he is heavy.

Like shortly after his return from the hospital.

The doors to the department slam open and Tina and Newt both whirled in their seats only to catch sight of one Percival Graves - immaculate as ever except for the fact that he’s limping. And his hair isn’t quite right. And now that Newt was thinking about it, the man kind of looked out of it. 

“Sir, shouldn’t you still be in the hospital?” Tina asks, eyes wide.

“Quite fine. They cleared me for duty,” he says, chin up - obviously unaware of the fact that he was slurring his words.

“Sir?” Tina asks tremulously, afraid to question her superior but also afraid he would fall flat on his face as he slowly limped (and tried to hide said limp) across the room to his office. He made it about halfway before he had to stumble to a desk and rest, sweat on his brow. 

He doesn’t even realize Scamander is right in front of him until it’s far too late to his shock. 

“Scamander?! What–?”

“You’re on Skele-Gro, aren’t you?” He asks.

Graves swallows.

“I’m fine.”

“And pain potions to combat the Skele-Gro, yes?”

Graves wrinkles his nose.

“Scamander, get out of my way.”

“Blown pupils. Fever. You weren’t cleared from the hospital, were you?” Newt deduces simply.

“Director!” Tina gasps.

“Scamander, if you don’t – hey, no! – keep your fucking hands to yourself!”

Before he knows it, he’s back in Newt’s arms and too exhausted from his trek to do much of anything about it. Not to mention the fact that the pain potion is really starting to kick in now. Newt’s got rainbows in his hair and his freckles are dancing. 

Graves always was rather sensitive to potions.

“You’re burning up,” Newt says, already making his way across the department and evidently dead set on carrying the man through MACUSA as punishment for his obstinate decisions. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I don’t need your help!”

Tina can’t help but chuckle as she watches her director get carried away, his large, blurry eyes locking on her furiously from over Newt’s elbow.

“Goldstein, do something!”

“You’re lucky he’s only taking you to bed, sir,” she says lightly, waving goodbye. “I’d have taken you to the hospital.”

Graves’ petulant pout - no doubt due to his inebriation from the potion - is something Tina will never forget.

BONUS:

Graves afraid he’s getting fat after Newt calls him heavy.

“Cosplayers can’t win,” says Emma, a cosplay director at a large anime convention. “If you alter the costume to be more modest, you might get accusations of not being ‘true to the source.’ But if you cosplay the character as-is, there’s catcalling and groping.”

Accuracy is also a great excuse for pedantic assholes to be, well, pedantic assholes – just ask cosplayers who happen to have different measurements from the actual cartoon, or forgot to be born white.

“Cosplayers of color are constantly told they are only allowed to cosplay characters that match their race,” says Jessa, a veteran cosplayer.

You’d be amazed how quickly the tiniest shred of power can turn the bullied into bullies. When you combine that with the fetishistic status many female comic characters have, it gets creepy, fast. Cosplayer Alexis told us she gets constant requests for photos of her characters in “damsel in distress” scenarios, “high kick fighting poses,” and even “tied up like a hostage.”

But not everybody is interested in a female cosplayers posing like hostages. Some demand more … accuracy.

The Disturbing Reality Of Wearing Sexy Cosplay Costumes

The Scene: Adam Driver imagine

Acting wasn’t what I ever thought I was going to do. Before this, my life was about college and engineering.  But somehow my life got turned upside down when a cast director met me at a coffee shop.

I never wanted to be in films or to be famous. But it happened. I had loans to pay off and the director gave me a pretty large check.

And after a few movies my name was big in the world of fame. That’s how I landed a acting role in one of the new Star Wars films.

I didn’t have a main role but it wasn’t some background character. I had a few scenes which I was more than half about.

I sat on the high studio chair as the makeup artist fixed everything. It was pretty early and we were shooting a few scenes today. And one of those scenes I had a big role in.

Keep reading

Came to something for the Lastoneshi Science Directorate, which controls the Lastoneshi Research Division, the armed, exoscience branch of the scientific planet.

The white triangular shape tells us that though the Directorate is a largely independant authority itself, it is still considered under council-authority in terms of organisation.

The inner logo is a variation of the general Caliran symbol, with the two dots representing the other exodite worlds (blacked out because these cultures are not the focus here).

The blue shape in the middle represents Lastonesh (the planet) while the white diamond in its centre represents the scientific community there in general and the directorate in particular.

The general shape within the central circle also alludes to electrons of an atom, the nucleus of which is represented by the orange circle with three lightning bolts over it, which is a common symbol for the Empire.

Now that I’ve got the logo for one sail of the starweaver, I need another, but that one can be one of the ones I’ve already made up, as a posting. Usually the Research Division embarks with one of the fleets during their sorties. Since in my fluff Forager fleet has completely left the Empire’s system to help Eldar make a positive impact on the upcoming events, I’m leaning towards that symbol, but without the bottom triangles :

10

Anime: Fuse - Memoirs of a Hunter Girl (movie)
Art Director: Yoshihara Shunichiro (Terra e, Shingeki no Kyojin, Aquarion Evol)
Background Studio: Bihou Inc.

Sorry for the subtitles in two of the pictures, I couldn’t find a raw version and the only one downloadable had hardsubs.

Anyways, the art director Yoshihara Shunichiro and Bihou Inc.did a really great job with this one. Yoshihara is one of the rising stars in the background business, despite the fact that he has worked there for quite a while already. After Terra e… he has gotten a lot of great job offers where his talents have been put to use.

Bihou itself is a good Vietnam - Japanese background studio which doesn’t suffer from the outsorcing. They have a solid team of artists and art directors. They have quite a large number of regular workforce and thus Bihou doesn’t rely too much on hiring helpers/freelancers (if we trust their homepage employee numbers). Atleast many of their BG artists continue working in each of their projects so even if they were freelancers they are regulars who know who they work with (even the Asian branches).

fearthephenom  asked:

Hello. I've been doing film challenges for a couple of years now, and this year, I've decided to watch the films of one director each month. I've also chosen to pick at least six directors who are women and/or people of color. Could you recommend a few female directors I could look into? I'd really appreciate it. Thanks.

Excellent!

Unfortunately thanks to a toxic combinations of sexism and racism It’s a bit hard to find woc with filmographies that you could spend a whole month watching (most of my favourites have directed one film). And while there are some foreign directors that would be considered poc by western standards who have directed lots of films, the domination of American cinema means it’s hard to access their films. Some woc exceptions: Ava DuVernay, Kasi Lemmons, Naomi Kawase, Ann Hui, Mira Nair, Deepa Mehta, Gurinder Chadha. 

White women directors with large filmographies: Claire Denis, Jane Campion, Kathryn Bigelow, Agnès Varda, Diane Kurys, Susanne Bier, Gillian Armstrong, Wachowski sisters, Chantal Akerman, Sally Potter. 

Hope this helps and happy watching!

  • Director: So who knows what the title of the piece we are playing, Baccanale, means?
  • Bassoon: Large Orgy
  • Class: *laughs*
  • 1st clarinet: *shocked*
  • Director: ...
  • Class: *continues to laugh*
  • Director: ...
  • Director: more loosely it means large party, but yes that's true
  • Bassoon: I've been waiting five weeks for this
  • Director: ...
  • Director: don't tell anybody what you learned in school today