infested corpse

im redrawing some of my old ocs from 2015 and this is arvid and he really needed a design revamp. this is one of his old designs (the bird one)

although this is the summer version. also im gonna revamp the other guy too. i really dont unerstand his design because he is supposed to be a walking corpse thats infested with flowers but his design really didnt reflect this? (a later design had a flower for an eye but that was really it) so i think that maybe i should make a more dead looking version of him 

anonymous asked:

Touko has her perfect date planned out, but a sneeze (or a series of sneezes) and some unexpected events has Syo carrying Komaru out of harm's way

A/N You don’t understand how much I love this whether friendship or ship. I love Touko’s character development and how supportive Komaru is. 

I got way too invested in this and it just wrote itself

Toukomaru date

Komaru has the perfect date planned.

Too bad everything wasn’t going according to plan.

She’s done plenty of research just for this date. Even though she was dating the SHSL Literary Girl, she might as well have been the SHSL Romantic with all the novels she’s published under the Romance genre. This just placed more pressure on Komaru. If she wanted to impress Touko then she had to pull out all stops. So she diligently read up on all of Touko’s books, or at least those she could get a hold of, and then cross-referenced all of the romantic stunts that she could possibly pull of. 

Which wasn’t much by the way considering they were still in Towa city which was infested with corpses and rampaging monokumas. But hey, they had to make do with what they had, right? It’s not like they had any choice in the first place. Komaru just wanted this to be perfect! Or at least as close as possible to those manga she’s read. But don’t tell Touko that because she hates manga.

Thus, began the series of events that would count as their date.

First was dinner by candlelight. Improvised. The dinner was curry which she cooked because that was the best she could do regarding the culinary arts. They were technically eating at a restaurant although it was pretty dilapidated and there were candles but only because there was no electricity in the building. But even so, she inwardly pumped her fists. Nailed it.

“So…” She awkwardly drummed her fingers on the table. “This is nice, right?”

“Please, tell me you’re being sarcastic.” Touko deadpanned.

“Hey! At least try to recognize my efforts.” Komaru whined with a hurt look.

Touko was a sucker for that face so she gave in. “Fine. I guess this is pretty…”

“Pretty?” Komaru perked up.

“Decent.” Touko finished flatly.

“Why am I not surprised?” She said as she almost comically fell onto the table.

“I call it as I see it.” Touko shrugged as she began to dig in.

“Please make an effort in this. I really tried, you know.” Komaru pouted.

“What were you even trying to achieve with this? This looks like–”

Touko never did get to finish her sentence as her nose detected the pepper in the curry which triggered her to sneeze.

And out came Genocider Syo.

“What’s this? Am I interrupting something?” Syo asked as she smiled wildly.

Komaru facepalmed at her timing. Really? Now of all times? She sighed in exasperation. “Honestly? Kinda, yeah.”

“Wow, way to be blunt, honey.” Syo said unfazed as she then flamboyantly pulled out her genoscissors and threw one right past her. “But don’t worry about me being a third wheel when you’ve got company!”

“What?” Komaru asked as she turned to see where she was aiming at. She scowled and yelled. “Oh, come on!”

They were suddenly surrounded by a hoard of monokumas.

“Better hurry up if I were you, dearie. The food’s gonna get cold. Kyahahaha!” She cackled maniacally as she started hacking through the machines.

As for those which weren’t yet shredded by Syo, they made their way to Komaru and tripped the table along the way.

“No no no! Not the food!” Komaru shouted in disbelief which quickly turned into rage in a matter of moments. She pulled out her megaphone and held it tightly. “Okay, now it’s personal!”

So much for their date night.

When Touko came to, she was in the middle of monokuma carnage.

“Wha? Did something happen?” She asked in confusion.

“Oh, nothing.” Komaru answered with tears in the corners of her eyes. She was so exhausted to hold back anymore and so her shoulders drooped as she mumbled sullenly. “Just that… everything’s ruined.”

“Geez, what’s your problem?” Touko sharply asked.

“It’s just…” And then Komaru started crying. “It’s our first date and I just wanted this to be perfect. But it’s not. It’s a disaster!” She wailed.

Touko sighed at her girlfriend’s antics. Really, who ever put her in charge as the motivational one in the pair? Touko, the person with horrible self-esteem issues and a persecution complex, was cheering up this perfectly normal girl. What kind of weird dynamic was this?

“Look, Komaru.” She started sternly. “There’s no such thing as perfect. Why else do you think I write novels? It’s all fantasy. Nothing like that exists in reality. Stop beating yourself up over unrealistic standards.”

“But even so, I at least wanted to try.” She sniffled.

“And you did try. And you failed.” Touko continued to scold her. “So what? You’re going to sulk now? You’re going to give up after just one try?”

“No…” Komaru weakly replied as she shook her head.

“So then tell me what are you doing right now?” She sternly asked her.

Komaru wiped her tears and picked herself up. This time the determined glint in her eyes was back again. “I’m not giving up.”

“Finally. Do you know how ridiculous you were being? And do you know how annoying it is that I have to be the one to knock some sense into you every time?” Touko ranted on as she narrowed her eyes. “It’s a hassle.”

“Sorry, Touko.” Komaru apologized with a sheepish smile. At least she was smiling again.

“Seriously, get a grip.” Touko then crossed her arms and looked away, effectively hiding her face as she said, “If you’re really that upset then just hurry up and ask me out on another date.”


“And…” She kissed Komaru briefly on the cheek. She immediately pulled back with a furious blush as she stammered, “T-thanks for trying. You didn’t stand me up so that’s an improvement in my history of dates.”

Komaru has the perfect date planned but nothing went according to plan.

It’s a good thing that she has a lot of dates to plan for.

Alien 3 was good tho...

I’m writing this ostensibly because every time the Alien series of movies is brought up online, there is this crazy stinkface thrown at the mere mention of Alien 3–as if it is this great shame of a movie. An embarrassment both to the Alien franchise, and film in general.  I believe both of those points are completely off base, and actually view Alien 3 as the closest movie in the series to the brilliance of the first film.  

Alien 3 tells the story of Ripley crash landing on a techno-ludite prison-monestary of men; bringing with her a xenomorph which she and the inmates band together to try and survive.

In terms of sheer aesthetic, Alien 3 is this wasteland bridge between the rigid dark metallics of 80s sci-fi, and the dirty fire kissed worlds of 90s Sci-fi.  It contains in it those rich deep blacks that we had back in Alien, but it’s updated through Fincher’s palettes of sweaty green, and blue walls.  The opening scene where Charles Dance’s Clemons walks through the galactic twilight of the industrial waste shores of Fury 161 may in fact be the last great image of American science fiction films in the 20th century.  It is the climax of the images conjured up from Rutger Hauer’s tears in the rain speech in Blade Runner.  Dance’s flapping trench cloak turtled up on him conjures simultaneously the inquisitors from Dreyer’s Joan of Arc, and Decker’s trench from Blade Runner.

  We see Sigourney Weaver’s maggot infested oil covered corpse wash up on the shore.  Her skin mirroring the xenomorph she has become linked with.  Abjectly covered in fluids, viscous, and death–she is horrifying, replicating the horror she represents for this colony of male convict monks who haven’t seen a woman for decades.  In this way, she mirrors the way that Joan of Arc’s gender challenged the monks in Dreyer’s film.  And in fact she ends up shaving her head to drive home that fact.

This is a movie of sweat and tetanus. It presages similar themes that would arise in Fincher’s work with Fight Club and Se7en, but with the complication of having to reconcile that it’s point of view at the end of the day is it’s heroine.

The acting in Alien 3 is really incredible, from the simmering menace of Charles Dance’s creepy intense Doctor Clemons, to Charles Dutton’s strong willed Dillon, to Weaver’s own performance as Ripley.  Even minor characters like Brian Glover’s Prison Warden find a way to give dimenson to characters that could have easily been cardboard stereotypes.  I think Glover’s performance is interesting because that character could have easily just been a straight forward Boss Hogg kind of character–but he complicates it with unstable concern for the threat that Ripley represents to his prison, and to him personally–I think he’s inaccurately labeled as purely career motivated midway through the film, when Ripley and Clemons get him to agree to the autopsy of Newt by asking him how an outbreak of cholera would look on his resume.  And while it’s true given what we know, that he’s seen as the obstruction to Ripley doing what needs to be done–what he really is, is a simple man, trying his best to keep the piece of shit that he’s been thrust into together.  He needs to be authoritative.  In some ways, Andrews is positioned as the mother of the prison, to Dillon’s father figure.  And in some ways, the tension between him and Weaver could be read as a battle between their twin motherhoods–and Andrews jealousy at being replaced as the center of this world’s affection.

This begins to get into the areas where Alien 3 gets a lot of its criticism.  Because since the aesthetic of the film, and the performances of the film are unassailable–a lot of problems people have with the film is how it fits within the first two Alien films.  Particularly, the decision to begin the film with the off screen deaths of Newt, and Hicks.  I think if you watch the film without worrying about it’s connection to the previous films, none of this is hugely important.  The movie starts with a woman who has crash landed–her friends, including a young child are dead, she suspects this alien creature is the cause–and the movie goes. 

But from my many discussions advocating for this film, one of the threads that usually people lead off with is that this film undoes the happy ending of Aliens–and wrecks what they see as the natural arc for Ellen Ripley–which is the restoration of her role as a mother–with Newt replacing Ripley’s Daughter Amanda, and bringing closure to the trauma caused to her in the first film.

But this is a fantasy.  The story of Ellen Ripley isn’t a mother who loses her child, and then has the child restored to her.  Ellen Ripley is the story of the cycles of death and creation.  By the very nature of herself and the xenomorph doppelganger that forever lives in her shadow–she is doomed to constantly repeat these cycles of life, death, rebirth.

It is no mistake that Fincher’s film is the one that delves most into the heroic cycles and mythologies that these films have necessarily, by their need to be told and retold, engender.  Ellen is positioned as Eve arriving in the garden to bring the end of paradise, she is also the holy mother who offers redemption for these men that wait on the edge of space for god to return, and finally she is the woman of revelation on the run in the desert from the antichrist, the woman often confused with the Whore of Babylon, whose avatar is the end of everything, and the ushering in of the new, that is beyond our understanding.

Because of this, it isn’t Aliens which closes the loop of the Alien films, it is Alien 3 which does so, once Ripley accepts her role as the holy space mother of death, offering benediction and forgiveness with one hand, and upheaval and apocalypse with the other–mirroring again, Joan of Arc, and Dreyer’s final scene where Joan accepts the flames, as the world falls into hell around her.

The thematic density of Alien 3 is the only film in the quadrilogy which even attempts to go toe to toe with Alien on that front.

It’s also much farther advanced than Aliens in terms of the politics of its heroes.  One of the great things about Alien was that at the end of the day, the heroes were two women and a black man.  And Alien 3 repeats that with Dutton surviving to the end, and being instrumental in Ripley’s final salvation.  And while there is complications there that in both films the black man is seen as an instrument to the white woman’s ascension it is still much farther along than most blockbuster science fiction has dared.

On the whole, one of the best things about Alien 3 though is its dogged pursuit of the void.  It is a bleak bleak movie that starts off killing a child, and throughout refuses to reward sentimentality.  As Dillon says in a prayer that both sends Newt and Hicks to the fire, and ushers in the birth of the new Xenomorph: “Why the sacrifice, why the pain?  Some get called, some get saved”–there is no heroic morality here, only life and death, and as he says, within death is creation.  The best example of this element to the film is the romantic tension between Dance and Ripley.  Just as he is opening up to her, in a moment that is structurally set up as the scene where the two of them finally let down their defenses, and maybe find love here at the edge of space–he is brutally killed right in front of Ripley.  This is the dark horror of the series returned nihilistic and mean–after the Space Marine, white hats, black hats of Aliens.

If Aliens was a story about a lonely cat lady finding her space family and riding off into the sunset–Alien 3 is the holy death mother space fuck into oblivion.

Alien 3 is not only a thematically worthy entry into the quadrology.  It is a superb testament of aesthetics and performance, and despite Fincher’s disavowal of the film, a critical film for understanding his work of this era.

When you look across the landscape of major science-fiction films of the 90s(Matrix, Armageddon, Fifth Element, Jurassic Park, T:2) you would have to say it places very highly within it’s era; and when you think about films that try to depict religious space colony industrial horror–there’s not much else like it out there.  Where Aliens has hundreds of films that drove it’s space marine concept into the ground–Alien 3’s Space Prison Horror remains, probably because of it’s osterization, quite out on it’s own.  It’s most significant successor is probably the Riddick films I’d guess.

At any rate.  This all came about because I read that the director for the newest Alien film that they are making, the director of such powerhouse films as District 9 and Elysium, had the gaul to treat this film as some kind of red headed stepchild that he would avoid, because…obviously.  But watching his films, which are largely oriented around different ways to show different kinds of robot guns, he really could have used a few more viewings of Alien 3.  The notion that that guy is going to make a film that is superior to young hungry David Fincher is amazing.  The off-handed dismissal of Alien 3 just makes him sound stupid.  Alien 3 is by no means a perfect film.  It’s script while thematically dense, is a little bit of a mess–in that way it is similar to Scott’s Prometheus, which is another film that has been unfairly castigated by fan culture. Alien 3 is an extremely literate film, and in its flaws a lot of the unfettered genius of the people working on the film is actually able to shine through.

It’s this gross aspect of the stupidity of fan culture, which cares more about what happens with it’s name brands(in this case Newt) than actual art.  It’s that shit that makes people hate Michael Bay Transformers movies because the robots don’t look like the cartoons–meanwhile they are trying to get Marvel movies without 1/10th of the talent of Bay’s worst films, nominated for awards.  And while I think Alien 3 is very much entrenched in the themes that Ripley and the Xenomorph represent–I think it is also marred by that.  It obscures the ability of people to see it with fresh eyes.

Well, there’s a 2003 workprint special edition that adds 30 minutes to the film.  Maybe as with Blade Runner overtime, it’s time to revisit Alien 3 and re-examine its merit as art.

I’ll tell you this, it will be a miracle if District 9 dude can come even close to Alien 3.  Nice drawings though.

Immersed in Zombie City

Ruby slammed her back against the brick corner, keeping the barrel of her assault rifle aimed at the ground. Her legs felt like vulcanized rubber. The wall was all that held her upright. Her mouth hung wide open as she gulped down air. Every ragged breath drove a red-hot spike into her lungs. Sweat matted her black cherry hair against her forehead. She struggled to keep the heavy rifle from dropping out of her trembling arms. The rifle’s sling bit into her shoulder, only adding to her agony. Every fiber of her body cried out in pain, demanding rest. But, such a thing was a luxury that she could not afford.

A low sound crept into her ears. Like air rasping through a clogged pipe. She heard more sounds. Bones creaking. Feet dragging along asphalt. Deep-throated gurgles. Fear seized her heart with corpselike claws.

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A mix for sloshing your way through corpse infested waters. listen

01 The Paths of the Dead ~ Howard Shore // 02 Bad Moon Rising ~ Mourning Ritual // 03 Ramalama (Bang Bang) ~ Roisin Murphy // 04 Disburbia ~ Rihanna // 05 The Howling ~ Within Temptation // 06 The Dead Can’t Testify ~ Billy Talent // 07 The Valley ~ Okkervil River // 08 Ghost Town ~ Shiny Toy Guns

So for the past day I’ve been trying to get on board with the Rick really is playing everyone schtick. I keep bouncing from “yeah, he totally is! i see it!!! i sEE IT!!!!!!!!!!” to “nah, no way. the writers are trying to cast him in a bad light, this is what they’re going for.” Basically I was 50/50.

However, I was watching the preview for 5x14 again and Gabriel’s words hit me like a ton of bricks: “Satan disguises himself as the angel of light. That false light will destroy everything.

My mind instantly screamed that quote is in relation to Rick. It has to be. And thus far nothing has solidified my belief that he truly may be playing everyone more than that quote.

Seeing how Rick is acting in Alexandria, how he carries himself, and some of the things he’s done so far it’s easy to make the connection that he is supposed to be seen as Satan.

Satan disguises himself as the angel of light.

What has Rick been doing the last two episodes if not concealing his true intentions behind that of a damaged man slowly but surely amalgamating back into society? His veneer is so believable and naturalistic it’s almost frightening.

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  • There never has been a communist government. There never has been a capitalist government, there never has been socialist, democratic or any other kind of government but a plutocracy. Every government is a shell of ideas wrapped around a parasite infested corpse.