#the middle part thing that starts from his rear and is shaped like a triangle is thin

[thinkingnot]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOO YOOOOOOOO 🙉

HE MIGHT BE A CRAB BUT HIS SKATEBOARD SKILLS AINTTTY

[optimusphillip]

OptimusPhillip Reviews 25: Studio Series 46 Dropkick

It feels like these past couple of weeks have seen pretty harsh reviews coming from me. This week, however, will be different, because today we’re looking at Studio Series 46 Car Dropkick. While something of a partner piece to Car Shatter, I personally like this figure a lot more than Shatter, and I’m not the only one. But is the figure deserving of such high praise, or was Shatter just that much of a letdown that we’re not so hard to please? Let’s find out. 

Car Mode

Like in the movie, Dropkick transforms into a modified 1973 AMC Javelin, and it’s almost dead on for the one in the movie. Like Shatter, he’s missing some small paint apps, such as the red triangles and brand decals on his quarter panels, the black on the side vents and door handles, and a little silver on the hood pieces, but really every detail of note in the movie is present here, like the 13′s on his doors, and the skull and cross bones on the quarter panels. He even has painted taillights.

The vehicle mode isn’t perfect, however. At least on my copy, parts don’t often line up right, like the front fenders or the rear body assembly, and sometimes all four wheels don’t touch ground at once. Still, it comes together well enough that I have fun playing with it.

In terms of other features, you can store his gun accessory in this mode. There’s a notch just under the barrel that hooks onto the spoiler and holds it in place on the back. I can see a lot of people finding this silly, but I think it’s a clever bit of storage that manages to look better than most figures with similar features. It retains the symmetry of the vehicle, and there are no obvious holes anywhere to mess with the shape.

Conversion

Dropkick’s conversion, like most car to robot transformations these days, starts with opening the doors. After that, however, things get a lot more interesting as almost the entire car body comes disjointed from the robot body. Only the wheels, fenders and quarter panels come down with the robot. After that, everything kind of works in manageable chunks. First transform the arms, then bring the waist up to connect to the torso, transform the legs, transform the chest and head, then bring everything together. It’s the kind of transformation structure I like: almost every part does something, but nothing gets in the way. I also like some of the smaller tricks, like how the entire wheel base folds up to form the arms, or how the quarter panels rotate up and wrap around the calves. After that, flip the middle of the hood around to form the head, bring the front of the car down to form the chest, and collapse the roof and trunk into the backpack, and we’re done.

Robot Mode

Much like Shatter, Dropkick is based on his design in the Decepticon Arrival scene from Bumblebee, so he doesn’t have his helicopter kibble. Unlike Shatter, however, he is a near-perfect match for his film model. Comparing him to the actual shot from the movie, the only differences I can see is that his chest is wider, and that the wheels on his elbows are on the outside instead of the inside. Aside from that, every detail is present in some form. I like all the intricate detailing on his ab section. I don’t know what everything is, but it is all screen accurate. Even the detail on his inner shins is carried over from the movie. They even molded in the spine detail he had in the movie, even though it just gets covered by the roof! Really, all that’s missing is some small paint details. Definitely an improvement over the gray twiggy helicopter version.

I really like the head sculpt on this figure. Unlike the helicopter figure, which seems to have been slimmed down to fit inside the cockpit, this figure’s head feels more nicely proportioned to his body. All the same details are present, but not only is the molding sharper on this one, but the face is painted a more accurate gunmetal gray instead of the bright silver of the helicopter figure. Though they did leave the paint off the cranium vents.

Studio Series has been on a roll with articulation, and this figure is no different. Ball joint in the neck, ball joints in the shoulders, bicep swivels and 90 degree elbows. No waist articulation, but ball jointed hips, thigh swivels, 90 degree knees and double jointed ankles for transformation. All in all, a very poseable figure.

As stated earlier, Dropkick comes with the blaster he used in the movie to liquify Roy and Powell. Unlike most Transformer weapons, this blaster doesn’t actually use a 5mm port system. Instead, you fold up the hand (it works on either side, just like in the movie), revealing a tab, that you use to connect the blaster to his wrist. While this does mean you can’t give the blaster to other figures, it’s nice that they gave him a proper wrist-mounted weapon. Plus, those same tabs help hold the vehicle together, so that’s a nice bonus.

In terms of scale, he is the exact same height at the head as his helicopter figure, so any figure that fits in scale with that figure, such as car mode Shatter, fits in scale with this figure as well.

Backdrop

Dropkick comes with the same backdrop as Shatter, the trailer park in Texas they arrive to Earth at in the movie. As I said in that review, everything seen here is consistent with how it was in the movie, apart from the lack of flames. While Shatter’s large backpack prevented her from fitting well onto the platform without knocking the backdrop down, Dropkick’s much cleaner robot mode means he doesn’t have that issue, at least as long as you spread the door wings out some. As a result, he can stand perfectly fine on the platform in almost any pose without knocking the backdrop down.

Car mode is a similar story. The car’s overall footprint is just small enough to fit on the base without any overhang, so he sits really nicely against the backdrop. All in all, I’d say the backdrop is a success.

Final Thoughts

This is a phenomenal toy. He’s probably the most screen accurate figure out of this set that I’ve covered so far, his transformation is engaging yet not frustrating, he’s highly posable, and overall he succeeds everywhere that his precursors have failed. I just wish that the helicopter figure came out this good, but whatever the case, I’m really glad to have this figure and would highly recommend him.

[impracticaldemon]

KazaChi Week 2017 Day 2 Prompt: Reunion I Will Find You ~ Part II

Author's Note:

Welcome to chapter 2 of what is now going be a 3-chapter story. I am almost finished Part III, but I wanted to publish this chapter now just in case the final part takes me longer to wrap up than expected.

I realize that this middle piece is less clearly KazaChi, on its face, but it was necessary to my story and to the way that I perceived the key characters. Please be assured that Part III is wholly KazaChi. \(^u^)/

Part II – Under the Trees

Chizuru would later remember that run inland from the beach as a tangled series of confused images, etched on her mind along with the scents of gunpowder and blood, and the awful awareness of pain and fear all around her. Also, noise: the growling thunder of canons, the sharper staccato of the infernal Gatling guns—horrible machines designed specifically to mow down charging footsoldiers—and everywhere, audible even above the various engines of destruction, the screams of the injured and dying.

Moving faster than she ever had before—perhaps trying to keep up with Kazama-san for so long had improved her speed and endurance—Chizuru somehow avoided the enemy soldiers streaming toward the nearby coastal fortification and found herself on the outskirts of what was clearly going to be a pitched battle. She knew that she was in the wrong place, but wasn't certain what to do next. All of the intelligence that Kazama-san had gathered stated that General Hijikata, Vice Minister of War for the Republic of Ezo, was stationed at the massive star-shaped fortress of Goryōkaku in the town of Hakodate. The site of the current battle was Benten Fortress, according to what Chizuru could make out from the cacophony around her. From scraps of knowledge picked up during the sea voyage to Ezo, Chizuru knew that Benten was still several miles from Goryōkaku.

Chizuru slipped cautiously away from the main fighting. She needed to find a way around Benten in order to reach Goryōkaku and Hijikata. Just before heading into the sparse woodland that she hoped would conceal her from friend and enemy alike, she took a last look up at the heights of Benten, where she could just make out the battle standards of the Bakufu loyalists involved below. Her breath caught in her throat when her eyes suddenly recognized a crimson banner edged in white triangles hoisted triumphantly above the others, its emblem invisible due to distance but immediately known to her: makoto, representing sincerity. Chizuru blinked away tears and forced herself to walk away, leaving the Shinsengumi's "flag of truth" to watch over the battle and the men behind her.

Hijikata-san wasn't there. If he had been there, she would have seen him, she was sure of it. But the flag meant that some, or maybe most of the remaining Shinsengumi were defending the doomed fortress. It seemed wholly unlike Hijikata-san to not be there when his own were in trouble, regardless of his new rank and duties.

After several minutes of walking, choosing her path more by instinct than purpose, Chizuru found herself approaching what appeared to be a road. It surprised her that she had reached a point behind the outer defences of Benten—but presumably this was the road leading inland to the town of Hakodate and the fortress she was seeking. Just as she was trying to make up her mind whether or not to use the road, rapidly approaching hoofbeats and then the sounds of shouting and running men drove her deep into a leafy bush, glad for once of her small size. Even as the first rider came into view, unmistakeable even in his close-cut western uniform and missing his former trade-mark long black pony-tail, enemy soldiers came hurrying down the road from the opposite direction. The battle obviously wasn't going well at Benten.

"Minister Hijikata!" shouted one of the uniformed men galloping several lengths behind Hijikata, obviously desperate to catch up.

"Commander!" called another, his cry more like a scream.

Chizuru felt like screaming herself. Instead, she clamped both hands over her mouth to avoid drawing attention to her pitiful hiding place. Dear gods in heaven have mercy, she babbled frantically in her head. Don't let him die, don't let him die, don't let him die…

At first, it appeared as though her prayers had been answered: lying flat against his horse's mane, Hijikata-san avoided the first, scattered volley from the small enemy unit—and apparently nobody had thought to aim for his horse in the first shock of suddenly encountering their enemy's deadliest warrior. A bright katana flashed briefly in the air, and two men fell to the ground, bloody and unmoving. Ignoring the crumpled bodies, Hijikata-san urged his horse back to a gallop, sending his remaining assailants scrambling out of his way.

Unfortunately, just as the former Vice Commander's reinforcements came thundering up, infantry running flat out behind racing horsemen, another knot of enemies stepped out of the woods, modern rifles held in readiness against their shoulders. It was impossible to know which of the shots fired hit Hijikata-san, catching him across his side and lower back as he rode to the aid of his comrades at Benten. Chizuru could only watch in horrified silence as blood sprayed from mortal injuries to the man she had travelled across northern Japan to save. His arms flew up and wide, his agonized face suddenly visible to Chizuru as he fell from his twisting, rearing horse. She knew that she would never forget the sound of his body hitting the hard-packed dirt, even though it should have been lost among the clamour around them.

It was as though time slowed down as he fell, and then sped up again in a rush, as if trying to catch up to itself. Chizuru found herself running forward, heedless of the danger, her only thought to make a last attempt to do what she needed—needed!—to do. Not surprisingly, one or two of Hijikata-san's men tried to approach her as she flung herself down at his side. She ignored them, and mercifully they went away, whether convinced by her actions that she intended no harm, or drawn irresistibly into the fighting that immediately broke out around Hijikata's still form.

Nothing touched Chizuru as she frantically tried to staunch the bleeding, hoping against hope that Hijikata-san's fury powers would once more save his life. Blood continued to well out from under her fingers, mocking her efforts and staining her clothes and the ground with the evidence of the horrific wounds that lay unseen under Hijikata-san's handsome coat and fine white shirt.

Two minutes passed, then five. The fighting drew away, as the former Bakufu soldiers, enraged by their commander's death, drove his murderers back toward Benten. Is there even such a thing as murder in war? Chizuru still fought the inevitable, fumbling in her rush to cut open Hijikata-san's vest and pull open his shirt so that she could try to stop the bleeding more directly. Or is it all murder? Kazama-san would say so, although he has killed as many or more than most. Just humans though. The last thought was heavy with bitterness.

Kazama-san had once cut down a Shinsengumi warrior for no other reason than to prove a point—and to protect the honour of men who were in the process of killing themselves. That death, which had taken place almost at Chizuru's feet, still made her angry. That was murder. How can I love such a man? It's as though I catch glimpses of what he can be, and how he's changed, and I forget…

"Chi-Chizuru?" Hijikata's incredulous whisper caught his former page off-guard, and she started.

"Oh thank the gods…"

"What—no… don't have time for that…" The long-loved purple eyes were clouded with pain, and his breathing was laboured, but the fact that he was conscious—or alive—was a miracle in itself. "Need… to get… off the road. I…" Hijikata fainted again, and Chizuru felt a moment of complete despair. She couldn't carry him. At best, she could half-carry, half-drag him, and kill him in the process.

A cough made her remember her water flask, and she hastily gave Hijikata-san a sip of water. That seemed to help bring him around again (although what it could do for internal bleeding and possibly a damaged spine was a good question).

"Still have a bit of… the fury power left… I guess." Hijikata's voice was wry. They both knew that the power came at a severe cost to the remaining life of the user. "Haven't used it lately." His eyes, still narrowed in pain, but clearer, met Chizuru's and somehow conveyed humour in the face of devastation. "Knew you'd worry."

"Hijikata-san, you…" Chizuru wasn't sure what she wanted to say, and a familiar, frustrating sense of helplessness crept over her. But she wasn't the same person that she had been eight months ago. Kazama-san might be arrogant and just as challenging to deal with as Hijikata-san, but he had an unshakable belief in Chizuru's ability to do certain things and cope with more or less anything. After all (went his reasoning), she was an Oni of impeccable lineage—if she could only come to accept that, then she would handle everything much better. A pair of quizzical ruby eyes under silky blond hair flashed into Chizuru's mind and had to be banished with an effort.

"I can move now. Have to. You'll help—gods know you always do." In defiance of all expectation, the words held no irritation and were followed by a slight, but unmistakable smile.

"O-okay." She was suddenly flustered, recalling how often she had begged Hijikata-san for something useful to do. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, not the sixteen-year-old girl of over four years before.

"Ikuzo."

The word lacked its usual force, but it got Chizuru moving nonetheless. They made it well into the trees before Hijikata-san fainted again, nearly pulling Chizuru off her feet before she could balance his weight against a tree. When she couldn't bring him around, she decided that it was as good a time as any to better evaluate and bind up the injuries. She worked swiftly, and with far more competence than she'd had as a girl in Kōdō-san's clinic. It reminded her painfully of Yamazaki-san, who had taught her the skills that her foster father hadn't.

When she was done, she sat back on her heels, tired from her run that morning and from trying to carry and generally manage a muscular, full-grown man on her own. It crossed her mind that they both looked like furies after a particularly busy night out. The thought made her shiver. Although she couldn't accept Kazama-san's decision to kill Hijikata-san, she was otherwise very much in agreement with his view that the rasetsu were an abomination. Mind you, she stopped short of viewing them as no more than an insult to the Oni. Any implied insult was meaningless compared to the evil of twisting a man's mind, body and soul with the ochimizu. She suspected that Kazama-san felt the same way now—mostly—but he could hardly say so at this point.

Thinking about the furies—and the problem of Kazama-san's plan to kill Hijikata-san, assuming that the man didn't simply die of his wounds within the next hour or two—made Chizuru return fully to the present. She had to face facts: Hijikata-san wasn't healing fast enough; the blood was still seeping steadily out of him, and instead of regaining consciousness, his breathing was becoming more laboured. She could only think of one alternative, a truly last resort, since neither the stubborn former Vice Commander nor the prickly Oni lord waiting to kill him would be happy with her for making the attempt.

Well too damn bad for both of them, she told herself, borrowing from Hijikata-san's colourful vocabulary. She had always had the courage to do what was required to help those she cared about. She smiled with love at the dying man in front of her, and then with a different, newly precious love at the image of Kazama-san's face in her mind. Trust me, she begged the image silently. I will keep my promise. Then she set about doing what needed to be done to feed blood to a deeply unconscious (and probably unwilling) recipient.

A/Note:

 All feedback is much appreciated! I'll see you in the next (and final) chapter.

Tags: @hakuoukishippingweek @shell-senji @eliz1369 @nalufever @hakusaitosan @walk-tall-my-fr1ends @sabinasanfanfic

[against--the--dark]

Against The Dark -- Fargo and a Fatalistic World

In this first scene, Marge has tracked down the kidnappers, Gaear and Carl.   Carl is dead—Gaear having killed him—and what is left of his body is being shoved into a wood chipper by Gaear when Marge confronts him.  Gaear makes a run for it, but Marge shoots him in the leg and takes him into custody.  There have been several murders at this point, including multiple innocent bystanders and the woman Carl and Gaear kidnapped.  The large sum of money they did it for is likely forever lost, as Carl hid it in the middle of nowhere and died before telling anyone, and the third instigator, the kidnapped woman’s husband, is being arrested by the police.

The scene opens on the blank, engulfing snow landscape Fargo is embedded in.  

Although snow instead of the traditional darkness, the white in Fargo functions just like the shadows of classic noir.  It is symbolic of the fatalism of the world.  Fargo is a very dark film.  The kidnapped woman is not rescued, nothing is gained by any of the parties involved, a man’s son is going to have to live with the fact his dad had his mom kidnapped and is responsible for her death, and that same father is now in jail, multiple innocents have been killed as “collateral damage” on the way, and all for nothing.  While Marge is happily married to her artistic husband Norm, and her town seems quaint and sweet, these crimes are happening right there--in a rural area, not some giant city.  And everyone seems bad.  Even a trip to visit an old friend ends with Marge being uncomfortably and inappropriately hit on.  The overwhelming cold and isolation caused by snow is reminiscent almost of something like The Shining--a force of nature representative of fate itself. Everywhere, uncaring, unending, unstoppable, and utterly impersonal.

The constant use of snow filled wide shots in Fargo serves as a reminder of the powerlessness of humans against an uncaring fatalistic world.

The second shot is of Gaear, in the rear-view mirror.

Marge is watching him as she drives.  He’s imprisoned in the frame both by the bars in the police car that separate him from Marge, by the slanted frame of the mirror, and by the endless snow beyond the windshield and in the back window shown by the mirror.

Marge on the other hand, is not caged.  Even the snow behind her is bluer than it should be, instead of that death-like, toneless white.  Her hat and outfit insulate her almost like armor, against the cold and the world.  Even the edge of the seatbelt in frame makes her seem less trapped by making what would otherwise be a perfect rectangle into a lived-in shape with triangle and curves.

Margie starts to talk to him about the crimes he has committed, the deaths he has caused.

Back to Gaear, this time not in the mirror, but still imprisoned and washed out by the surrounding white.

We cut back to Marge as she smiles sadly and asks “And for what? For a little bit of money.”

We cut back to Gaear as she continues “There’s more to life than a little money, ya know.”

He watches the Brainerd welcome sign with a statue of Paul Bunyan, a terrifying man-statue with wild eyes and an axe, clearly like some demonic nightmare executioner.

Back to Gaear as he hopelessly watches it pass in silence.

Cut to Margie, who is watching him watch the sign.  She continues “Don’tcha know that?” looking honestly sympathetic.  “And here y’are, and it’s a beautiful day.”  

A comment which, despite the fact to almost everyone else it does not appear to be a beautiful day at all, but an abysmally white and cold day, appears to be a sincere observation on Margie’s part--insight on how she chooses to view the world.

Cut back to Gaear who is looking away, but then turns to look at her.

Then back to Margie as she parks and looks back at Gaear through the mirror.

Cut to squad cars arriving in the distance, tiny, unstoppable forces working against the engulfing snow around them, like Marge. (Who, in the next shot, is exactly in the frame where the squad car was.)

We cut back to Marge again and the musical theme of the movie begins to play as she finishes her thoughts on morality for him.  “Well. I just don’t understand.”

Gaear continues to watch her.  Although he doesn’t say anything, he seems aware of how different the worlds they live in are.

Only, they aren’t.  Back to Margie, looking sad, thinking of the whole event.

Then to the police cars out the window coming to join her.

-------------------

Although separated by a shot scene where Jerry Lundegaard, the kidnapping instigator, is arrested, this scene goes hand in hand with the film’s closing scene, so I’m going to analyze them together.

The film’s closing in one long shot, but the camera pushes in and Marge joins Norm in frame, so it goes through several phases, starting as a single full shot and ending as a two-shot medium close up.  It’s important that this is all filmed in one take, because of what it is about.  Marge and Norm, together, inseparably supportive of each other, in an awful, lonely world.  While their words reaffirm their bond and support for each other, the camera gets tighter, pushing them together, unifying them more and more, while simultaneously isolating them from the world outside of each other and their unborn child.

Fargo, despite being comedic, is a dark, dark, dark film.

In the first shot, Norm sits up by himself in bed, watching TV.  

Marge quickly joins him and he tucks her her in, she holds his arm.  Quickly, Norm--in a carefully emotionless voice--tells her “they announced it.”

Marge gasps and quickly responds “They announced it?”  Norm says yeah, and she prods him for information.  He responds “Three cent stamp,” trying not to smile, as Marge watches in surprise which quickly turns into happiness. 

 Throughout the film, Norm--an artist--has been working on a piece of art to be submitted as a possible choice for a postal stamp, and these are the results.  Marge is enthusiastic about Norm’s win, smiling and asking “Your mallard?” in wonder. 

 Norm finally cracks a smile and replies “Yeah.”  Marge breaks into a full grin and says “That’s terrific!”

Norm quickly replies “It’s just the three cent” to which Marge insists “It’s terrific.” 

Norm comments on another artist’s piece winning a more expensive stamp, and how people hardly use the three cent, but Marge isn’t hearing it--she reassures Norm and affirms the awesomeness of his success. 

She finally gets Norm to smile and agree with an “I guess,” and she happily leans on his shoulder, saying “I’m so proud of you Norm.”  She is quiet for a second as her thoughts shift, and then she continues “Heck, Norm, you know--we’re doing pretty good.”

Norm leans his head on hers and says “I love you Margie” and she replies “I love you, Norm.”

Norm puts his hand on Marge’s belly and says “two more months,” which she echoes, smiling and taking his hand, then we fade to black.

While this scene might just seem like a heartwarming domestic moment, and the one preceding it in my analysis as a comedic bit of preaching or something, that’s far from the case.  These are two of the most moving scenes I’ve had the privilege of watching in a film--especially this closing.  

Even while viewing this scene just to pull images, I had a difficult time not crying--twice in the same day.

Film Noirs are all about hopelessness, nihilism, and fate.  Not as a proponent of those things--but as a recognition of them and an overwhelming sense of helplessness and sadness in the face of them, like a genre devoted to mourning the make up of the world itself.  As Eugenio Zaretti puts it “a noir hero has no exit, no options, and is constrained to do what destiny bids” (40).

The demons these heroes of noir face vary.  A woman, themsevles, death, gangs, killers, any number or combination of things, and always with fate riding shotgun.  Fargo presents one of the darkest noir worlds.  There is a depressing sense of nihilism and hopelessness and meaningless violence even under the comedy of the film, however--paradoxically--the nihilism is anything but meaningless.  In fact, the meaninglessness of Fargo’s world is the meaning of the whole film.

Marge is very aware of the way her world is.  Again and again and again and again, Marge is confronted with how bad the world is.  Yet, despite all the meaningless violence and evil she’s seen in the past few days, Marge chooses to make something so small as a postage stamp meaningful in a meaningless world, a world she chooses to look forward to bringing a child into--a thought which ought to seem almost horrific after the nature of the world this child will be joining has been so monstrously laid bare.

Marge embodies the spirit of a line written by the late Sir Terry Pratchett: “You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?”  In a very real way, Marge challenges and, by challenging, overcomes something much more powerful than almost all other noir protagonists face: noir itself, not the mise en scene, but the darkness itself—a battle which she wins not by eradicating the darkness, but simply by facing it—the sort of insurmountable battle which makes Fargo beautiful, meaningful, and clever in a way which could not be more noir.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indexes:

WELCOME Post and current Headliner.

CLASSIC NOIR: Introduction to the Genre and Classic Noir, Part 1(Double Indemnity) Part 2 (Kiss Me Deadly,) and Classics Conclusion/Part 3

TRANSITIONING TO NEO-NOIR: Fatalism and the Noir Future, Part 1′s intro (For I Robot), Part 1 (analysis for I Robot), Part 2 on Neo-Noirs (Fargo), and the Conclusion.

THE FUTURE OF NOIR: An Expansive Noir Future,  An Expansive Noir Future part 2,  Noir and Anime, Noir Future and Video Games  Noir Negatives and the Future,  Noir Film and TV,  In-Depth Analysis of the Video Game Noir: The Wolf Among Us,  In-Depth Analysis of the Video Game Noir: Heavy Rain, and Conclusion/A Waypoint.