#they drop similar lines in R's route too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

himehikoshrine · 1 year ago

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This post will also have spoilers for all the things. Oops should I have been warning about that.... I tried to @ you in a post i made on like 2 hours of sleep about the Seagull because you got me thinking about it again, but I haven't been on tumblr in years so I don't know how to make it work right, so I'll just do it here! (Here) People say that Chekov wrote himself into many of the characters in the Seagull, not just Trigorin, but not NOT Trigorin. Both Treplev and Trigorin are Chekov and both of them are Neji. Even more so on his route.

I have so many thoughts on why Neji left Amber, and I imagine he has even more, and none of them alone are the full picture. But reading it through that specific line in the Seagull -- I wonder if Neji was headed even more down that route, and would have if he'd stayed. Chui will literally just walk away from a performance everyone has been destroying themselves to perfect the day before because he sees no value in it. Neji, even a year and a half in Quartz, is still saying rather mean things without explaining himself.

(Bless Kai and Fumi at the end of Neji's route who are just trying to explain to Kisa that Neji is kind of a disaster actually, when it comes to communicating and being a person in general. He's been running from being a person for so long, maybe it worked, just not in the ways he meant. Kai saying something like "He's actually terrible at knowing what he needs to actually say out loud and what he absolutely should not say out loud, but if I told him that he'd just go 'if it's you saying it its really all over' or something")

Neji when he's being mean is my favorite, I love it when he's mean but -- he's for sure got a bit of a mean streak -- (that foiling web of Neji and Fumi and Chui -- genius and art and wings and expectations and family history in performance and --)

I wonder if Neji in Winter Arc is in fact a toned down, more connected, more -- as the game uses -- grounded version of where he was and where he would have been had he stayed in Amber. Quartz is about connection -- it's about how actually its better if people from different places support each other and each bring their own strength and point of view together -- as messy and dramatic as it may be -- as many clashes and upheavals as it may cause.

Like I'm a big time Chuza hater for plenty of reasons, but the fact that he's got this secret little plan that makes no sense to save a class whose merits he can't even articulate just. Ew. There is power in Quartz but its not one Chuza seems to even understand or care about. Or really even believe in. But that's a post for another time and this reblog chain has gotten so long. Ahaha... If you want me to talk more about anything, please drop an ask I'm happy to riff -- But yes!! I'm so glad you also see it as Kisa basically showing him things he's been otherwise looking away from but that he knows -- Kisa's unique skill -- the game tells us -- is that she can reflect the true form of someone back at them. It's actually extremely similar to Chui's unique ability. The game doesn't say specifically that anything supernatural is involved in either of these per se, even if Chui speaks as if he's talking more about magic ritual than theater (though all theater is born from ritual, if you go back far enough) -- but regardless of how you read it. Both Chui and Kisa seem able to do something similar. Neji does it too, actually, but in a different form. He pulls things into his scripts, consciously and unconsciously.

Mitsuki has him nailed down EXACTLY at the end of Neji's first Affection Event. People get ~vibes~ off Chui and Momonashi and actually Kisa quite a bit, but Mitsuki gets them (correctly) off Neji and his little dragon's den of an office. I love Mitsuki for that.

Mitsuki also says outright what it is Neji is chasing. Someone who can sate him. Someone who can keep up (someone who puts up with honestly far more than she should, Kisa, not everything Neji does is reasonable you should just say no sometimes, baby. I bet Chui would just wander off mid conversation when Neji got too far into the antics.)

There's no set route order, but you absolutely need to play Neji's first Affection event in full again if not for the first time AFTER the ending of Soshiro's route so you get the comparison on which vibes it is that Mitsuki is picking up. That Amber Class, man... Something about that Amber Class and Vibes. It is not by accident there is shared metaphor being used there, I imagine.

It's very important to me that Neji gets what he gets from a line HE wrote into his little one man show. Kisa is literally saying his own words back at him. He's already written the truth -- if Kisa's mirroring is in her acting, and Chui does it via dance and performance, Neji's is in his writing. Like you said, Neji is working through STUFF in Oh Rama Havenna - It's the first time the game pins him down on that and it's the biggest "Neji declared winter a poorly run group therapy session with no-ones permission because he's a menace, but at least he doesn't spare himself either" - but as Sou points out. The water motif is in a lot more than one play. He's writing himself into everything. Like Chekov and the Seagull, if you believe those bits of literary analysis.

He wrote it down, but he won't LOOK at it, not really, until Mitsuki yells at him for it. His line about not playing his female characters with interiority is another obvious lie -- Neji's most famous role, and the last actual complex role he'd played before Domina is Takihime. No one, not even Chui when he's explaining that Neji couldn't complete the role, says Takihime was lacking interiority. Like sure, Employee A doesn't seem to have much interior life, but neither does the fortune teller or Ushinoko (though, speaking of themes Neji writes into his own characters, Mr. "I'm always planning the next play even when I'm working on this one"....). I'm just glad the game didn't try to say he can't WRITE the interiority, which was a spoiler I read and I was gonna scream. Because most of his most compelling, complex, deep characters are women. If the game had tried to pull that after Chichi and Rukiora.... Well maybe it would have called attention to the lie more, and that would have been nice in its own way. Ugh I could rant forever about every part of this...

Chui and Kisa together is a terrible combination for both of them -- Neji knows this, and eventually, on his route, even puts it into normal person language instead of making 20 jokes per minute about telling Kisa to get good at running or telling Chui he's not sharing. (The two of them I swear). Both Chui and Neji are chasing a reflection of themselves, and its something they had in each other.

Maybe one day I'll finish this fic but its a line Neji DOESN'T read right after the one he asks Kisa to read. "Maybe she'll be able to understand me." Like. Sir, the mirror you are chasing? It's in your hand. You wrote it. Look. Look with your eyes.

Chui outright says that Kisa will be able to reflect his talent and pull him even higher -- as I said, Kisa and Chui's abilities are similar. If they're fixed on one another, maybe they really could reach escape velocity together. They'd never look at anything else, though, and they'd end up somewhere so far from everything else, it'd basically destroy them. Not to mention what it'd do to the actual art -- something that Neji is trying to get Chui to understand -- Chui can bring to life anything that Neji can imagine, and Neji can imagine things that work perfectly to bring out Chui's abilities, but-- Like I said in the post I linked -- that experimental script at the start of The Seagull? That feels exactly like the sort of thing Neji would write and Chui would pull off spectacularly, actually (and now I really wanna see it ngl). In Puppet, he takes the accusation of "too experimental" as a high compliment. But when he comes to Quartz, he's as much grounding himself as he asks Fumi to do to make things work. That line about "it must have felt like ripping his wings off" which Chui literally echoes when talking about Neji in his route..... that.... foiling...... ugh. This is so long again oops. Like I said, feel free to drop an ask on anything specific if you want me to rant even more. I didn't even get to religion. Ririya and I actually went back and forth on specifically what Towada might be getting at -- I really should try to make that into a post one of these days. Because in terms of Neji writing himself into things, in terms of that imagine with wings -- Ishida dropped Towada's comment "like a kid in the cabbage patch" and then Towada is like "I'll clarify" and I was like that... that is not a very clear clarification...

Mary Jane and Frankenstein

In honor of Spooky Month and the imminent arrival of Mary Jane Day, I have done the scariest thing imaginable, returned to tumblr dot com to write a meta/analysis post.

[image description: images side by side of the top of the Mary Jane poster, showing Mary looking down sewing Jacob, next to the 1831 edition front panel illustration of Frankenstein, showing Victor looking down on his creature in horror]

This is a mostly informal attempt to collect my thoughts on the fact that Neji’s little spooktacular, in addition to being a very pointed exploration, as all of his plays are, of art and theater, the school, himself and his classmates (without their permission, the menace) and just, a lot of fun, is perhaps one of the best piece of Frankenstein related media I have EVER seen in relation to the original novel.

This is pulling a lot of things from the Stage Script rather than the in game version, which summarizes a lot of the things I'm mentioning specifically. You can find the full Stage Script in the game menu, or

[ here ]

because I love this play so much that I needed a searchable version.

Caveat Emptor here is that it’s been a long time since I’ve read the novel in its entirety. If this game gets me to read it again, I may have to revamp things. But again, largely informal. But very long, somehow.

Oooops.

If you're curious about anything in here and want to expand on it more, or hear my thoughts on it, please feel free to reblog, send an ask, or message. Or ask me elsewhere if we're already connected there. There's a lot I glossed over, especially at the end of this. I have a lot to say, and if we're back to writing metas on tumblr dot com the chances of stopping at one are slim.

Mary as Frankenstein, Mary as Mother

Mary’s name is acting as several allusions at once. I mean, there are at least 3 Mary’s in the bible one could point to - Mary, Mother of Jesus is absolutely at play. But Lazarus’s sister is also a Mary. And while technically Mary Magdalene is often misrepresented and amalgamated with other characters in retellings, the idea of “purifying” her has canon precedent - having had seven demons driven out of her.

Of course, Neji’s twisting all of it, in his Neji way.

(Interestingly enough, these are the Three Marys of the Quem Quaeritis - widely considered a point of "rebirth" of theatre in Europe during the middle ages.)

But Mary is also the name of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, author of Frankenstein. And this, this is a Frankenstein story. It is, in fact, a beautiful inversion of so much about the book that gets left out in most far more serious attempts at a Frankenstein story.

The original book is about motherhood and its inversion. Much could be said about when during her life she wrote it, or her own mother’s death shortly after she was born, or any number of things that have been hashed and rehashed a thousand times from AP English to the ivoriest of towers. But, fan of Death of the Author that I am, I posit you don’t need any of that to see in the text.

Victor creates a person with science, rather than by ‘nature’. It is an unnatural birth. And Victor is just about the shittiest possible parent. The Creature spends a good deal of time explaining to him, when they meet up again, that Victor is his father, and that he was literally abandoned as a newborn, and maybe that was kind of the worst possible thing he could have done. It’s not a mantle Victor has any desire to take up, the role of a parent. He wanted to create life, but he didn’t want to be a parent. But that’s what it means to create life.

By gender swapping the role, you’re already inverting the inversion - but Mary’s creation is no more “natural” than Victors. But it is different. Neji, ever witch-coded himself, has Mary put one of her own hairs into every doll. It’s returning the shared body to the act of bringing these creations into being.

But even without that. Mary considers herself a mother. She considers herself a mother despite having no memory of one herself - Mary knows lots of things she shouldn’t, and doesn’t know many things she should. But she calls herself a mother. Even before any of the dolls move, she is their mother. A motherhood she wants to desperately share with others. She considers the act of selling a doll a kind of ‘adoption’. These are her children. And they know it. It’s stitched into every stitch in their doll bodies. They know Mary is their mother. And they know she loves them.

[image description: screenshot of Mary in her workshop. The text shows Mary's line saying "I'm back, dear dolls. Mommy's home."]

The Creature comes to think of Victor as a father - an absentee one at that, and craves that love, a love he is never shown. Mary averts this spectacularly. She creates out of love.

Names

Mary takes great care in naming Jacob, and ends up doing so, though she doesn’t say it, after a biblical pun (Jacob, in the bible, is explicitly named such as a pun on the word “Heel”). But names are important to Mary, and she is sure to give one to Jacob as soon as he’s fully formed, even before she sees him wake up. Victor very particularly does not name his creature. Instead, he tends to throw around insults, many of which are demonic or satanic. When they finally meet again, the Creature says to him “I should have been thy Adam.” Mary averts this mistake, among so many others, spectacularly. Being called by her name is important to her, and she extends that offer to Jacob even before he’s fully “born.” Like a good mother.

[image description: a screenshot showing Fumi and Kai dressed as Mary and Jacob, as seen from the stage with the audience in the background. Kai is saying Jacob's line "I did, Mary. You are Mary Jane. My mother."]

Not only does she give him a nice biblical pun of a first name, she shares her last name with him, again before he’s even more than a doll. That’s her boy, that’s her best friend. That’s her family.

The song here, which is only sung and dance AFTER Mary has given him a name is called "A Friend Without A Name" Almost as if specifically calling attention to this fact. Mary is as much the friend without a name as Jacob, if not more. She is the one that has never heard another voice say her name, where as Jacob is called his before he's even awakened by the Island's magic and Mary's love.

[image description: the screen from just before A Friend Without A Name showing Mary and Jacob's CG of Mary Stitching Jacob.]

Mary as a Good Mother

Some of the weirder moments in the play actually make a lot more sense when you look at them through this light. Jacob randomly saying he hates Mary in a fit of jealousy? It’s because he’s a child. He’s a baby. That’s a baby boy. Mary, herself quite childish, forgetting so much of what’s important, as the Island is known for, reacts incorrectly, but understandably. This is her first friend - and far more of one than the others she thinks she’s made, in terms of mutual respect, compassion, and small acts of kindness. But this level of connection and emotional reciprocation is still new to her. She’s hurt. She runs.

And The Order of Shadow’s duo is quick to tell her that that’s just the nature of ghosts, telling themselves a little joke about how they have been lying to her from the start, and fully intend to stab her in the back, far more than any ghost. Victor’s instinct is to consider his creature a monster, a fiend, a demon. Mary is told by characters positioned as far more knowledgeable about the world than her that he must be exactly that.

And how does Mary react? She refuses to believe it. Even hurt as she was, even with someone who just said this is their entire expertise telling her it’s in his nature to be cruel, Mary refuses to accept it. She still loves him. She makes the right choice. That’s her best friend. That’s her family. That’s a (un)life she brought into this world, and she stands by him. No matter what. She would risk her life to rescue him. She will fight for him.

This is why that scene has to be there. Because she has to be given that temptation, that trial. And she passes spectacularly in a way Victor will not, to the end.

It’s also a thematic explanation for the garbage scene, which is probably there as much to be silly as anything. I mean, it’s also there to show many other things — Mary’s eccentricity is ingenious in its own quirky way — the islanders who hated her, who she didn’t understand, give her the tools to save Jacob and the others — Mary not even considering the same level of violence — it being a moment of empathy between Mary and the islanders who never showed her even a shred of it back — she understands that they couldn’t tell which food was rotten. She sees things from their point of view. And many more besides.

But, from the point of view of Mary as a Mother, Mary succeeding brilliantly where Victor failed… Mary is literally willing to coat herself in filth to rescue Jacob. Parenthood is messy. It involves a lot of gross things. Even Victor's, sanitized of the normal processes and cloaked in science, was made of corpse parts. But the play actually brings back a part of parenthood that Mary had been able to avoid thus far - the mess. Mary, once again, doesn’t hesitate. For Jacob? She’ll do anything.

Jacob is shown love and kindness, and he responds with the same. He has the same unnatural strength as Victor’s creature, but he’s only ever shown using it to rescue himself and others. When Mary asks for a handshake, he replies that he can’t, because such would be an invitation for a duel. And that they should hug, instead. Mary didn’t even know what that was. Far from disgusted by the lack of warmth she feels from his skin, she looks beyond that, to the emotional warmth and connection.

Frankenstein’s creature, famously, lashes out in violence. While Victor views this as his responsibility only in so far as he brought a demon into the world, he doesn’t understand, even when the Creature eloquently explains it, that the Creature was a being who had only known cruelty.

Jacob knows love. He knows kindness. He knows sadness and loneliness and pain. And refuses to engage in any form of touch that could even be considered violence. They hug.

Which is not to say Mary’s creatures can’t kill. But they do only to protect their mother, and only after Mary has risked everything to protect Jacob. They are Mary’s children, not Victor’s. Even their violence is an act of love. And in another inversion - they are the ones telling Mary to run. Something she does not want to do. She doesn't want to leave them behind. After all, they are her children. She departs from them only at Jacob's literal tug away, and with an apology and a thanks.

[Image description: screenshot of Fumi, dressed as Mary Jane, shown from stage view, with the audience behind, while a Doll's lines "Protect Mommy, let mommy run away." are shown below.]

Boats and Framing

But the parallels are not only in the most famous part of the novel - consider this - Frankenstein, the novel, is written as a series of nesting framing narratives. The bookend narrative, the one we open and close on, is a boat. Most Frankenstein adaptations cut the boat trip frame, but Mary Jane very specifically opens and closes on a boat at sea, and its ending is EXACTLY the reverse of Frankenstein’s. If for some reason you’re this far in and don’t want more spoilers for a 200 year old book, now’s the time to click away, I guess.

The boat is on a course to the Arctic. Victor is on board, telling his story, because his creature has fled there, away from humanity. Victor intends to pursue him endlessly, to kill him, fully aware that he is almost certainly going to die, frozen and alone, in the process. We don’t get to see this happen - the story ends merely with the certainty that this is what is coming. Victor, on a boat, intending to go to the ends of the earth alone to kill the Creature he brought into the world, treating it like some burden and punishment.

[image description: a screenshot from Mary Jane, with the CG of Mary and the Ghosts on the ship, with the summary text overlayed on it reading "Friends together, fun forever."]

How does Mary Jane end? With Mary, and Jacob, and a cast of playful characters — her friends — sailing off for the ends of the world, together, in pursuit of life and happiness - even in death.

Ghost Party ends the play because its a triumph. Neji throwing out Horace’s Ode to Cleopatra in there because he can’t not do silly things like that — but Frankenstein famously contains many references to classics — many made by the Creature himself, who was forced to educate himself via books, lacking a parent to help him.

Mary Jane takes a section of sheer joy out of a poem of complex mixed emotions, and says them repeatedly. This is a party. This is a triumph. Mary leaves on a boat for the ends of the world a success, a good mother, a friend. And a human.

Humanity, Connection, Isolation

The play deconstructs so wonderfully this question of humanity. Mary doesn’t find any joy in it, despite barely understanding it herself - until she is able to use it to help others. The first time in her life she’s been glad to be human - something she only really understands as “needing to eat food” - is when it gives her the ability to save her ghost friends. If that’s what humanity is, the ability to care for others, the ghosts of the chapel, the play is telling us, are far more human.

One of my favorite exchanges in the play is after Charles and Figaro explain to Mary that the corpse parts used to make Jacob were their friends. Mary is not malicious in the least. She has no concept of this act as sacrilege or desecration. She is genuinely childishly innocent in most of what she does. And she can’t understand it.

Mary says “If you can love unmoving corpses so much… How can you not feel for living ghosts...?"

[image description: Mary in front of the burning town. She's saying "How can you not feel for living ghosts...?"]

Charles responds that she must be completely off her rocker. But she’s correct. Mary sees life in front of her, even undead life, and wants to protect it. Even the Islanders, who only ever treated her with distain, who only ever made her miserable — she doesn’t want them to die, even knowing they are already dead.

Outside of Mary, her oddball eccentric self, in this play, the more human someone is, the crueler they are. Figaro and Charles are only ever here to mess with her before dragging her off to be killed. They have no willingness to even try to understand anything outside their world view. The Islanders, who think themselves human, revile Mary, and make up terrible rumors about her.

Both of these groups do so, in part, for similar reasons. Because to have empathy would force a realization on them they cannot bear. The last thing Figaro realizes, before he’s dragged into the most poetic of justices, is that the dolls have SOULS. They are ALIVE. It’s a moment of anger and madness, but it’s a last minute realization that he’s been wrong now that it’s too late. Of course it’s not a revelation he’ll remember. You tend to forget what’s important on Kakuriyo Island.

If Mary averts all of Victor’s mistakes, Charles and Figaro make many of them. Seeing the Creature as a collection of corpses, as demonic, as an abomination against God. Reacting only in anger, in cruelty, in violence. Chasing something they view, wrongly, as an abomination to the ends of the earth, until it kills them. Mary has Victor’s role, but Victor’s actions and outlook are given to the antagonists.

It’s fascinating to me, then, that there are two of them. In the version of the play that gets performed, they’re twins - doubles. Two halves of one whole, who egg each other along in their cruelty. But they also exist to show that even these two are capable of empathy and connection. They do in fact understand the thing they tease Mary with. They have the ability and understanding to extend that to Ghosts, or to Mary. They simply refuse to. Figaro really does love his brother - his grief at his death is genuine. It’s a clever way to show that.

In the book, Victor is extremely isolated, by his own choice. He withdraws from everyone in order to work on his creature, and after he runs from it, he keeps to himself just as much, now blaming the idea that he can tell no one what he’s done. Even when he’s surrounded by family, he is utterly alone. By choice. The Creature eventually lashes out and kills the woman Victor intended to marry. In Victor’s mind, he cares about this girl, but it is not in his actions. Like much else, she exists more as a creation of Victors mind than something in the world for him to interact with and care about. Until she dies. Then he’s furious. And decides to spend the rest of his life chasing down the Creature to kill him for it.

This contradiction in Victor has always read as intentional to me. The book is calling out his hypocrisy here. He doesn’t actually desire connection - the connection his Creature eloquently explains his longing for. But if it is denied him, he acts like he’s been affronted, painted with a shallow layer of sanctimoniousness or justice. Murder is bad, of course, and the Creature shouldn’t have killed an innocent young woman to get at Victor, of course. But the discrepancy between the way Victor reacts to her in death and the way he does when she’s alive is intentional.

Victor has every chance for human connection. Time and time and time again he’s given that chance and refuses it. Even to the very end, on that boat. He could stay with the crew. Sail back home. Let it go. The Creature has run away from humanity which it has come to despise as much as its absentee father disdained it. There is no need to keep chasing. But Victor cannot let it go.

The Creature longs for connection and is denied it. Victor disdains and refuses it, even when it’s available to him.

Mary as The Creature

Contrast this with Mary — It is Mary, rather than Jacob, that is in the Creature’s situation here. Mary is constantly chasing connection. Constantly trying to find something to reflect humanity (compassion, life, emotions — rather than the matter of blood and flesh that Figaro and Charles always talk about it as) back at her. And she can’t get it. She, like the Creature, hides in the bushes and watches it from afar. She, like the Creature, chases after it only for people to run away, to treat her with cruelty. Mary is Frankenstein, but she is also a reflection of the Creature. She is both in one, in this sense.

[image description: screenshot of summary text over the church and figures of the church ghosts. it reads "The friendless Mary dreamily watched the ghosts as they sang a happy song.]

Her costume specifically makes her look nearly as much the doll as the ones she makes - in the world of the story, because she's sewing both - but thematically, it ties her to them not only as their mother, but as a reflection of the Creature, herself.

Like the Creature, Mary is an odd mix of naivety and childishness, with startling gaps in her knowledge, and extreme skill and adult abilities. She knows what she knows well. Like the Creature, Mary has no memory of kindness, of family, of parents. She has only ever seen it in the way the Islanders interact with each other. She is the Creature here - raising herself, learning of the world through watching it, being reviled for every attempt she makes to reach out.

One thing the Creature explains to Victor is that he didn’t even understand, at the time, why he was being treated this way. He had no awareness of his own nature and what he looked like in the eyes of others. Only that they ran in fear and chased him away, and reacted with violence.

Mary Jane inverts this. Mary is human, but the humans around her are something she cannot understand. Like the Creature, Mary doesn’t understand why people react this way. The book expects you to come to the same conclusion as the play - the fault lies not with the Creature anymore more than it does with Mary, at this point. It is those around him, those around her, that are at fault, that are a thing neither can understand. Human’s are cruel. Ghosts who think they’re humans are cruel. It is a disconnect between themselves and the world around them they don’t understand, and desperately try to bridge over and over.

Even Mary, as quirky and childlike as she is, is on the verge of giving up, of being consumed by the Lonely Darkness. We don't know what her fate would have been if the Order of Shadows had not come. Victor's Creature, far more morose than Mary, gives up on connection, as well. He is denied the most basic of needs, and eventually, he learns the violence and hatred being directed at him, and, newborn that he is, lashes out.

But, ultimately, companionship and connection are the Creature’s goals, and it is that that he requests of Victor, who refuses to provide it himself. Make for me a mate. Mary is the Creature, and she is Frankenstein. She makes a friend for herself. Her motivation in creating Jacob is not science, it is not in defiance of death or God — very pointedly — it is out of loneliness - the same motivation that the Creature gives for his desire that Victor make him another like him. And when Mary does so, she’s a good mother, and a good friend.

Religion

Frankenstein’s full title is Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus - it is about forming people, but it is also about stealing fire from the Gods. The question of if creating life out of death the way Victor does is an affront to God is something that Victor himself thinks about, but the book is much more interested in exploring it as the way characters view it. Victor punishes himself, it is not the Divine that punishes him. The Divine acts not as a force, but as an idea. One that both Victor and the Creature end up grappling with and trying to find their place within.

So that Mary herself seemingly has no concept of it, is fascinating. She goes to watch a chapel every night, but I don’t know she knows what a chapel even is. She mentions God once herself, saying that the smell of the garbage would be enough to affect even God, but she also talks to the Moon as a companion and a friend. Her worldview is uniquely hers, in relation to all things. As I said, the idea that making the dolls the way she does, or using corpse parts to do it might be sacrilege does not even occur to her.

Rather than go the route of the novel, Mary Jane twists this around too. In the world of Mary Jane, religious objects hold not only the power of an idea but an actual force. And it is a force that is completely, within the world of the show, amoral and nonsensical. The blessed weapons and fire the Order of the Shadows use are “holy” as a property, but that gives it no moral weight within the world of the play. And the play is messing with it the whole time. Holy wood or water can destroy a ghost, but they live in a church. Something that Charles and Figaro comment on, but cannot interrogate in terms of what it means for their conviction. But they’re split on how to proceed - the fact that ghosts can live in it doesn’t shake their faith, though. Sister Ghost is there largely for this joke. A nun who is constantly evoking the divine, who would be killed by a consecrated item.

[image description: the summary text over the chapel backdrop with the text of "the chapel where Jacob and the others were left behind was being filled with the scent of holy water.]

If I could add something to Mary Jane, I would have loved for Mary or Jacob to ask Sister Ghost what “God” means (this is a conversation that happens in bonus material for Tokyo Ghoul once, actually). I would have loved to have that brought up more explicitly. But it’s also very funny that it never is.

The first definitions for a God we get are them being applied to Mary herself, with plenty of ambiguity on if the Order’s faith itself has a mother figure at its center or not. And either way it’s a fascinating play on the idea, and the themes of the novel.

Closing Thoughts, Other Connections and Ideas "Beyond the Scope of this Essay"

Anyway, all of this while playing around with everything else going on in this play, Neji’s totally, without permission, commentary on Fumi, on Tsuki’s legacy (please read the stage script, somehow the game thought it was a good idea to cut that whole specific reference even when making Kisa pick between an “erase Tsuki” option) and on Kai. On himself as an artist. ("I am the one who is strange. With my changing moods, with my hobbies. That is why everyone thinks I'm strange and avoids me.”). As with several other plays, a commentary on authority, and on creation, and on isolation and friendship and connection.

And, of course, what I’ve been holding back this whole little essay is that Mary Jane is, thematically, at its core, playing off the exact same situation as I Am Death. Like — both of these plays center around a woman pouring her emotions into an undead creature. I see you Neji. You can’t hide from me. Reading I Am Death as a Frankenstein Story remixed into an old Japanese mytho-history is a LOT of fun to do, but is, as the academics say, beyond the scope of this essay.

(and, I Am Death itself is about Neji and Chui, and the twisted, messy love-hate revenge drama they are acting out across all the routes in the game. Neji writes the plays that introduce Chui to the world. Then he runs. And spends the whole game trying to beat him (affectionate.). “Make me another like me” you say…

Literally the only thing I’ve come up with to make the “bad end” CG more compelling to me, is that this is what it’s riffing on. I like my I Am Death costumes way weirder.)

Mary Jane is a Frankenstein Story, I Am Death is a Frankenstein Story, Jack Jeanne is a Frankenstein Story. The other, other thing I’m leaving out here is that the Order of the Shadows are OBVIOUSLY pulled from Tokyo Grand Guignol, aesthetically. And the most famous TGG play is Litchi Hikari Club, which is, say it with me, a Frankenstein Story. Also one that takes the themes of the novel (gender, love and sexuality, childhood, genius, violence, blind pursuit to the point of madness, god complexes) harder than most, but runs with it in nearly the exact opposite direction. But again, very much beyond the scope of this essay.

Also also also leaving out the fact that Tokyo Ghoul is... kind of ... not not a Frankenstein story. It certainly riffs on the motif quite a bit. Even if you've never read it, you've seen the mask design (an in universe riff on the joke.).

Even just one dimension of this play, and look how many words you've made me write Neji-senpai.

[image description: image from the bottom of the Mary Jane poster, with the cast list, showing the chapel ghosts with a focus on Ushinoko, Neji's character, looking towards the 'camera'.] Some little Halloween Spooktacular you’ve got there. Bravo.

#incoherent ramblings #the seagull spoilers #meta #yes i can rant about this forever #all of this #let! chui! play! The world soul! As! Al Jeanne!#this is a mean neji stan account and a chuza shuri hate account lol #neji #chui #i will remember how tumblr tags work one day #probably

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chloegong · 3 years ago

Text

that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

#these violent delights #romajuliette #benediktmarshall #how am i out here using my own book tags this feels weird FKJDHSDKJFH #should i tag my own name too #chloe gong #now i've gone and done it #bookblr #yabooks

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

It's B from @bang-tan-bitches and I would like to request a yandere fic. It can be BTS OT7 x reader or BTS member of your choice x reader. Similar to your amazing isekai story i would like something similar(a long one shot or a multi-chapter, your choice). Whether YN transmigrates to a game or a novel (not as a villain but maybe as a cannon fodder side character that has little importance to the story and just wants to lay low) but YN captures the attention of the love interest(s) and shit starts getting weird, intense, uncomfortable. Maybe it causes the supposed female lead to turn into the villain, maybe it causes the love interest(s) to turn into the villain(s). Maybe YN realizes that something is wrong with the story/game but can't figure it out. Idk. Time period doesn't matter. Modern. Ancient. Fairytale. Fantasy. Whatever.

If you can do this great! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay too. You're an amazing writer with so much talent and I'm really appreciative of all your work. Thank you for taking requests from your fans, I'm sure you've received a lot.

Take care! 😘💜💜💜

at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into manga and manhwa and then after a few months, I dawdled off but recently, I’ve been getting back into it again haha so this request came at a pretty good time. Hopefully you won’t mind that I’ve taken some creative liberties with this request lol I think it’s more fun if I keep readers on their toes, including the requester.

On another note, I really shouldn’t be writing all my isekai’s with Taehyung as the main lead but he’s just so fitting asdfghjkl

↳ The Fox Bride

2.6k || 99% Light Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Isekai!AU, Slight Yandere!AU, Nine-Tailed Fox!Taehyung

You are a tutorial character.

But you weren’t always. You still remember being a career woman in the twenty-first century, struggling with overtime and paying bills while trying to keep yourself fed. The success of that ranged from month to month. But more importantly, you still remember that night too.

It was rainy. Your car blew a flat tire. You pulled to the side of the highway and got out.

The last thing that registered was the deafening honk of the semi-truck.

Then you felt yourself flying upwards.

But when you landed, instead of colliding with the concrete and dying upon impact, you fell back onto your ass in the middle of a market on a dirt road. Transported back a thousand years ago.

Your purpose was fulfilled in the next two minutes.

“Are you alright?”

The male protagonist had stretched out his hand and helped you up. The hero. The main character. It was obvious with his bright red hair, shining eyes and bronze armour. He was so starkly different from the rest who were gray and drab, including you who was suddenly in a brown shapeless dress. He was practically a neon billboard in the middle of a graveyard.

“Are you Y/N?”

You looked at him, befuddled that he knew your name. But before you could even respond or provide a line of dialogue, he said, “This is a delivery from Baker Jeon. He gives you his thanks.”

The protagonists handed you a loaf of bread. Undoubtedly his first ever quest.

You looked down, not sure what to do with it.

“Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

You had absolutely no clue. But there was the deafening noise of hammering steel literally ten steps away. You would have to be blind not to see the gruff man shaping a sword at an anvil right on the road and deaf not to hear it. As if that wasn’t enough, the literal sign of the shop read: ‘the blacksmith’.

So you pointed.

“Thanks.” And he trudged off.

You were utterly confused until a background character who said they knew you waved you over. You shared your bread with her, brushed aside when she asked you what was wrong, and you followed her as she walked up to your supposed cottage.

All the while, you saw yourself in the background of the hero’s main quest as he ran through the town.

And that was that.

It wasn’t so hard to figure out where you were or what the hell this was when you put your mind to it. Without much of a job or a family, and no technology but the candle that you had to conserve when night fell, there was ample time.

So you spent it thinking and you eventually solved the mystery.

You were in Beast Boys Harem: A Forbidden Embrace. AKA. a dumb yaoi otome game app that you downloaded on your phone when you were sixteen and bored. You remember because you were too cheap to buy the routes, so you played the tutorial, prologue and read the summaries of the routes online. Now you regret that you didn’t just fork over the goddamn five dollars.

Even more than that, you regret that you even downloaded the game in the first place.

But at least you’re just a tutorial character. You’re free from the storyline and the plot—

That’s what you thought.

Turns out living a thousand years in the past in a fantasy realm as a woman didn’t bode well. It was probably no different from how it would’ve been like in the medieval ages. You had no trade skills. No one was willing to accept you as an apprentice when you were a woman. You found that you were essentially illiterate with a reading level of a preschooler, no one was willing to teach you, and you had no power or wealth when you were without a father or a husband.

And you’re certain what the landlord and tax-collectors are doing is illegal.

But in this world, in this unjust realm, there is no such thing as the law.

“We know you’re in there!”

You jolt from the heavy pounding on the frail wooden door.

“It’s time to pay up!”

Your hands tremble as you set the candle down that’s still billowing of smoke, the flame smothered out mere seconds ago. As much as you want to hide and pull the blanket over your head, you know that door won’t last. They’ll find you if you’re trapped in here.

“If you can’t, spread those legs of yours!” a low voice spits and there’s chortling from the men.

Someone adds, “Sell your body already!”

“Open up! Damn whore!”

Without a single possession but the white nightgown clad on your body, you open the latch of the back window. You cringe at the squeak, trying to keep your movements quiet before the door gives way.

You hoist yourself up onto the window ledge. The door bends with the strength of multiple clenched fists against it. Your feet touch the soft grass outside your cottage. The men shout.

And the door finally slams against the wall, hinges broken.

But by then, you’ve slipped into the shadows.

“Where is she?!”

The blanket is ripped off the bed, curtains are whipped back, every drawer dumped onto the ground and cupboards yanked open. The floor shakes with the weight of their boots and you press your palm to your mouth to silence your panting breaths, slowly stepping away.

“That damn whore slipped through us—!”

But as your shitty luck would have it, a sudden crack has the whole world coming to a standstill.

Shit. You look down at your feet, realizing that the snapping noise came from you stepping on a twig. And it’s exposed your hiding place.

“There she is!” — “Out the back window!”

You grab fistfuls of your dress and bolt.

“Get her!”

With your cottage on the edge of town, there’s nowhere to run but through the dense woods. It’s shrouded in the darkness, no doubt filled with wild beasts creeping through the thicket. The rustling canopy of the trees doesn’t allow the dim, waning moonlight to illuminate your path.

So you’re left blind. Struggling up the high incline of the forest, feet slipping on dirt and mud. But you keep sprinting with all your might, even when the pointed, coiling branches scrape at your calves until blood sheds and the hem of your dress tears in the underbrush.

“Run, little rabbit!” one of them mocks, “Run!”

The four men continue to give chase, gripping onto their roaring torches, shrieking and howling after you. One of them is manically laughing as if your efforts to flee only adds to the thrill. Their greased hands reach out to snatch you, but the tips of their fingers graze the ends of your hair.

Your teeth are sunk into the bottom of your lip, sobs breaking through your aching chest. Your lungs burn, dying for a break or moment of relief. But you don’t relent and luckily, you manage to build distance between you and the men. Only, that luck comes crashing down by a fucking hole.

A hole in the forest floor that you don’t see. That has your footing all wrong. That makes you scream and fall.

You twist your ankle in a direction it’s definitely not supposed to be in and cry from pain.

A second later, you force yourself to get up and keep running with tears flooding your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. But it’s more like limping than running, akin to hobbling on one leg and every movement has pain shooting from your swelling ankle.

The effort becomes futile. They surround you within minutes.

“All finished?” The tax-collector’s head cocks with a spreading grin. “You’re not going to keep running?”

Why couldn’t you just fucking die the first time?! Even if it was an awful death where you didn’t have time to prepare yourself or say goodbye to anyone, at least it would’ve been the end. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But there’s no time to grieve. Or hate the new life you’ve been given. This is it. You have to keep going. You have to survive. By any means. You’re about to pick up a branch and uselessly wave it around at them, shout at them to stand back. Anything that you could do to save yourself—

“Who dares come onto my mountain?!”

There’s a deep timbre behind you. A husky voice that quivers the very core of the forest.

As if the wind has swept through, the trees and thicket rustle and it goes silent.

The men fall back onto their asses, some torches clattering to the ground. Their eyes have grown double in size, nearly falling from their sockets and their jaws have dropped to the dirt.

“I-It’s the nine-tailed fox!”

The man scrambles back.

“Demon!”

Another barely manages to get onto his feet. He turns around and lurches away while shrieking.

They all run. Scattering away as frantically as cockroaches when the light is flickered on.

From your spot on the ground, you turn around with wide eyes.

Amber irises meet your gawking and they practically glow in the darkness of the forest. He is dressed in a loose, white robe that’s draped over his frame, open to the middle of his chest. And over his honey hair, on the top of his head, his pointed golden ears twitch. By the torch fire still yet to die out, he is illuminated and his shadow is casted on the ground. The blazing flame warms his cold, sharp features.

He is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. In both worlds you’ve lived in.

And you know who he is.

Taehyung. One of the love interests of the hero. A seductive, sly creature that eventually coaxes the hero into selling him his soul to grant one of his wishes. But Taehyung grows to become an obsessed character that wants to do nothing but monopolize and possess the hero for himself.

That same Taehyung approaches you with his lip curled as you teeter to your feet.

“Run away, girl.” He leans close. “Before I eat you.”

“Stop!”

On sheer instinct and adrenaline, you push him back. Your palm shoves against his firm chest.

Taehyung stumbles back with his eyes becoming rounded. He looks down to where you had made contact against his body. “Did...you just touch me?”

“What?”

Taehyung’s head darts upwards and he captures your wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly. He tugs you in and on your swollen ankle, you stumble into him. Bodies flush against one another. Your face pressed to his warm chest. His arm coming around your waist to break your fall.

He is aghast.

“You’re not from this world.” Taehyung’s yellow eyes swirl as they gaze into you. “Where did you come from?”

…

It’s been three days.

“Wed me,” he begs for the seventy sixth time.

You don’t know why you’re keeping a count.

“No.”

You’re hugging your knees for warmth. The rice paper-paneled doors are slid open and letting in the chilly air. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, but you don’t look at him for long.

You turn into the corner of his home while sitting on the tatami floors as if you’re putting yourself into time out. But you’d like to say it’s your privacy corner. It’s as private as this abode, which was basically one room, could get.

Taehyung sighs in frustration, placing his hand on his forehead. His teeth grit. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Your silence angers him more. “You can never leave.”

You turn over your shoulder to glare. “Even if I married you, you’d never let me leave anyway.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes on you and then smirks. “You’re right. Wed or unwed, I won’t let you out of my sight. You should feel grateful, girl. You’re the best human I’ve ever treated.”

You quietly scoff.

Maybe you should feel scared. Maybe you should tread more lightly. After all, he’s not a character to be trifled with.

But you know he needs you. That alone gives you power.

As a beast, Taehyung’s been trapped on this mountain by priests for centuries. The only way he can be free is by feeding off of sexual energy and breaking the barrier. But of course, they also cursed him to be unable to touch any woman in this universe.

You aren’t from this universe.

You jolt when you realize that while you were lost in thought, Taehyung’s crawled closer. He has a foxy smile, amber eyes searching your expression. “Maybe….maybe I’ll grant you a bit of freedom if you would just give into the temptation and let me have a taste of you.”

As cold as he looks, he is beautiful. He is mischievous when he smirks and sly when he speaks. You are utterly spellbound as you look into his irises. And the temptation he speaks of flickers in the warmth of your belly.

But you turn away.

“I already said we only do that kind of thing after marriage. And I will only marry someone I love.”

Taehyung draws back with an unamused scoff. “What a prudish world you’re from.”

He wanted you the moment you were brought to this house. With the intensity of his stare and your captivated state, you had let him pin you to his floor and you liked it. But then clarity came and you blurted that such an act only happens after marriage. A lie just to buy time.

You didn’t expect for the hero to arrive at Taehyung’s house the next day. With his red hair and bronze armour, he had gotten lost in the forest and knocked on the door. Before you could limp over and answer it, Taehyung jumped off the roof and confronted him.

The guy was thrown off the mountain within five minutes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have a steamy rendezvous. Taehyung was supposed to get the sexual energy from him!

The story was going off the rails. And you’re not sure what you’re even buying time for anymore.

The both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you break and succumb to his mesmerizing seduction.

Taehyung is cruel, ruthless, obsessive.

But what’s the most bewitching thing about him is the jarring contrast of when he’s clumsy and nurturing. It’s what he regards as his own weakness. What he hides from others. But you felt your heart waver two nights ago when you were shaken awake in the middle of twilight. When you peeked open your eye to see him gingerly wrapping your swollen ankle with bandages.

He looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, ears, tails, sharp features softened—

“Ow!” You wince as he squeezes your ankle, right on your injury.

“You think too much in your head,” he says and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.”

A sadistic smile tugs on Taehyung’s lips. He lets go, but only to lift your chin with his fingers. His plush lips are inches away, his breath warm on your skin and he gazes deep into you. “I won’t let you return to your world. I won’t let you run away. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You’re mine now.” Taehyung swears, “You’ll fall in love with me eventually.”

You gulp and he smirks.

The two of you know it’s only a matter of time.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung reader insert #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfiction #LET'S GOOOO

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acanvasofabillionsuns · 4 years ago

Text

got a fascination (with you)

for @heavenly-roman!! happy birthday bennie!!!!

many thanks to @ratherstarryeyed for being a fantastic beta ( ˘ ³˘)♥ (and also to @figurative-siren-song for helping me with a scene!)

you can find a little bit of background here if you want! it’s not necessary to read to understand this fic but it might clear up a couple minor details!

Summary: Roman and Janus have a Tragic Past. (Roman’s words) (Janus would like to know who this guy glaring daggers at him is.) Warnings: accidental misgendering, vandalism? Wordcount: 2509

“Hey, who’s that?” Roman asks, knocking Remus’s shoulder with glows and nodding towards the guy.

“Hm?” Remus turns. “Oh, I don’t know. V brought ‘em, said they wanted to try it out or something.”

“Hey, new guy, what’re your pronouns?” Roman cups glows hands around glows mouth to shout, because Respecting People’s Pronouns.

“He/him,” the guy calls back.

Virgil gives both of them a death glare—probably for shouting when they’re trying to sneak around, but to be fair it would be awkward to walk up to him solely to ask his pronouns and not his name or anything else before walking away, and glo’s not close enough to ask without shouting—so Roman yells back, “Cool!” and then flashes Virgil a wide grin and mimes zipping glows lips. Virgil rolls his eyes and pointedly turns away from glow.

Roman’s smile is even wider as glo turns back to Remus and announces, “Score one for annoyance points!”

“How high are you going for this time?”

“Double however many he gets, at least.”

Remus snorts. “Good luck.”

“Thank you!!” Roman says, ignoring the fact that Remus thinks glo will actually need it. As if.

Glo grabs a few random cans of spray paint out of the bag (which is conveniently by Virgil) and sets two of them upright on the sidewalk and one on its side between them. Glo grins at glows handiwork, then digs through the bag to find the can glo wants.

“Who took the regal red paint?” glo hisses.

“Oh, sorry, did you want it?” Virgil asks, smirking as he turns to glow. He shakes the can victoriously and whispers, “Point.”

Glo squints at him and stands up, letting glows gaze drop down to the aerosol rendition of genitalia and then looking back up at Virgil, watching as his eyes follow Roman’s and then widen and narrow in quick succession.

“Point,” glo echoes triumphantly, snatching the can and definitely not running over to Remus. That would imply that glo’s running away, when Roman is simply evading any potential retaliation.

Someone snickers, and Roman looks around to see New Guy laughing. Glo hopes he can tell by the way glows eyes scrunch up that glo’s smiling at him. Judging by the way his eyes scrunch up too, he does. Glo nods at him, gets a nod back, and then goes to work.

About an hour later, Virgil’s phone beeps, and everyone packs up the supplies and gets ready to make their escape.

“Sonic?” Roman calls to the others as glo and Remus get in their car. No one protests, and so Remus pulls up a route to the nearest one as Roman gets glowself adjusted in the driver’s seat.

Five minutes later and they’ve reassembled at the picnic tables of Sonic. Everyone’s discarded their masks now that they’re unnecessary, and Roman looks around for New Guy, more than a little curious to see what he looks like under the mask and if glo recognizes him.

And once glo spots him, glo definitely recognizes him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I like your shirt,” someone says quickly. Roman turns around and spots a boy staring at glow. The boy nods as they make eye contact and hurries off to class.

“Thank you!” Roman calls after him.

Glo goes into glows next class with a smile on glows face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, hey, that’s the guy that complimented me earlier!” Roman tells Remus.

“Where?” Roman points, and Remus scrunches up his nose. “Dude, that’s Janus.”

“So?”

“So, he’s always sarcastic? I don’t know if he even can say something straight,” Remus says. Roman’s about to joke “a fellow gay!” when Remus tells glow, “He was probably being sarcastic and making fun of you or something.”

Oh.

The want to joke drains out of Roman. Glo’s sad for a moment (glo’s not really sure why), but then it flips to indignation, and glo huffs.

“Well, jokes on him, because an insult isn’t really effective if the person you’re insulting didn’t get it,” glo scoffs.

“Yeah, I really don’t know what he was trying to accomplish there,” Remus says, then shrugs and moves on. Roman casts one more frown at Janus before following.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You!” Someone calls. Janus turns to see someone—he recognizes him; he’d made him laugh at the start of the… get-together? He doesn’t know what to call it, and anyway he’s seen him in the halls around school a few times besides that. He thinks he has an R name?—stomping towards him.

“Me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!”

“What about me?”

“You complimented my shirt one time!” Is that... supposed to be a bad thing? Roger’s (?) frowning at him, so he guesses it is, though why is a mystery.

“I’m sorry?” Janus tries.

“Remus said you were being sarcastic!” Robert (?) complains, throwing a finger at another dude who looks similar to this one and also more familiar. He and Janus share a class, but they’ve never really talked in it, so where he got the idea Janus would snark at someone’s shirt when he doesn’t know them, Janus doesn’t know.

He sighs. “Look, I wouldn’t waste my time insulting someone who I’ve only ever seen in passing. They wouldn’t get it, so there’d be no point.”

“Unless they have a brother who shares a class with you, and therefore can explain that you were being rude!” Ruben (?) exclaims. Janus wonders if he knows how stupid that sounds.

“Dude, I didn’t even know Remus had a brother!” Janus tells him. “And that would be a lot of effort to put into a comment that I just said in passing.”

Roy (?) downright scowls at him, crossing his arms with a huff. “Remus doesn’t have a brother.”

“Oh,” Janus says, immediately backpedaling. “Sorry.” They sniff, but their shoulders relax a little so Janus counts it as not a total mess. “Can I ask what your pronouns are?”

“Glo/glow,” glo says, and glo looks a little sheepish now. “Sorry for accusing you; I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly when I don’t even know you.”

“You shouldn’t’ve,” Janus agrees, “but I accept your apology.”

Glo smiles, uncrossing glows arms. “Do you think we could maybe start over?”

“Sure?”

Janus isn’t really sure what glo means by that, until glo sticks glows hand in his face and chirps, “I’m Roman! I use glo/glow/glows/glowself. It’s nice to meet you, Janus!”

“Nice to meet you too? Janus, he/him.”

Roman’s smile has progressed to a beam, and Janus thinks maybe he’d made a mistake somewhere along the line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman weaves glows way through the crowd, looking around for Janus. Glo thinks about the situations leading up until now and winces. Glo should’ve known better than to think badly of someone glo didn’t even know! Glo’s fixing that now, though.

Glo spots Janus and makes glows way over to pop up next to him.

“Hi, Janus!”

“Hi, Roman,” Janus says, sounding slightly exasperated. And Roman knows that that’s probably because glo has insisted on befriending him and that maybe it would be better if glo just left him alone since it doesn’t really seem like Janus wants to be befriended, but Roman is Determined to make it up to him, okay, so Janus doesn’t really get a choice in whether he’s Roman’s friend or not.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come to the next Sonic excursion with us?” Roman leans in and winks a few times to make sure glows meaning gets across. “The plan’s looking like we’re gonna go on Friday right after school, but if you wanna come and can’t make it, I’m sure we can reschedule!”

Janus raises his eyebrows. “What, you’ll change the entire plan if one person, who isn’t even really part of the group yet, wants to come but can’t?”

“I mean… yeah?” Roman says. “It wouldn’t be as much fun if we knew we were excluding you when you wanted to join.”

“Huh.”

Roman waits a moment to see if he’ll say more, then prompts, “So?”

“I’ll join,” Janus says, and glo fistpumps before realizing that maybe glo’s coming off as too enthusiastic.

“Sorry,” glo tells him, rubbing the back of glows neck sheepishly.

“No need to apologize,” Janus waves glow off, squashing a smile. “Don’t you have class?”

“Oh, hey, I do!” Roman realizes, pulling out glows phone and wincing at the time. “I gotta go, bye Janus!”

“Bye!” Janus calls after glow, and Roman smiles to glowself as glo races through the halls. Glo thinks glo’s got a pretty good shot at befriending Janus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a disaster. Janus thinks he might actually be friends with Roman. He doesn’t know how. Last he checked, Roman was still vaguely annoying, like a puppy who kept yapping at you to play when you were trying to concentrate on something else. But they didn’t have any classes together, and they didn’t often have time to talk in between periods, so Roman hadn’t been able to bother him for very long unless they hung out outside of school, which also didn’t happen often.

But then Janus had been added to the vandalism group chat, and Virgil had started pulling him into his hangouts with Roman and Remus, and now Janus has to deal with the fact that he actually likes hanging out with Roman. Disgusting.

The best way to immediately deal with it is, of course, to drop his head onto his desk with the most dramatic groan he can make, so that’s what he does.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asks, poking him.

“Help me,” Janus says, swatting at Virgil’s arm when he tries to poke him again. “I think I actually like Roman—”

“Duh,” Virgil tells him, like the horrible, horrible friend Janus just realized he is.

“—‘s company,” he finishes, sitting up so he can swat at Virgil from a better angle. “What do you mean, ‘duh?’”

“I mean, it’s really obvious that you’ve got a crush on Roman and you need to actually do something about it.”

“I don’t have a crush on Roman!” Janus protests. He tries to think about how that would even work. He likes spending time with Roman, sure, and yeah, Roman’s got an objectively nice face, and it is really cute to see glow light up when one of glows favorite songs come on, and— “Oh my goodness, I’ve got a crush on Roman.”

Virgil bursts into laughter. Janus is going to disown him as a friend.

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me and you just let me make a fool of myself, probably, oh my god, how big of an embarrassment have I made of myself without realizing it, Virgil, stop laughing and help me, you’re the worst—why do I have a crush on Roman of all people, oh my god—”

“Janus, calm down,” Virgil tells him, while still laughing, which fails to help Janus calm down in the slightest. “It’s okay, Roman’s as oblivious as you, somehow, and you haven’t embarrassed yourself at all except just now. I hope you know I’m never letting you live this down.”

Janus hisses at him. Virgil bursts into laughter again, and Janus lets his head thunk back against his desk.

This is a disaster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman is Very Excited. Janus agreed to come over and watch Monsters Inc. with glow! Well, glow and Remus and Virgil, but still!

“Dude,” Remus says, throwing something against Roman’s head that glo decidedly doesn’t look at, not wanting to know what it is. “What’s got you so excited?”

“The movie!”

Remus snickers. “You really want to be Janus’s friend, huh?”

“Yeah!” At first glo’d just wanted to be his friend to make up for misjudging him, but now that Roman’s gotten to know him, glo has even more reasons to want to be his friend. Janus is clever, sharp-tongued, talented, and even though Roman now knows he’s a dork who makes atrocious puns when he sees the opportunity, Janus still emanates Cool vibes. Not to mention how pretty he is, or how cute he looks when he’s snickering to himself over the terrible pun he’d just made, or— “...Wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I just want to be his friend,” Roman says slowly, feeling for the truth of it on glows tongue. Glo thinks about kissing Janus and, no, yeah, Roman has definitely gotten off the platonic feelings train. “Yeah, no. Dammit.”

Remus bursts into laughter.

“Remus! This isn’t funny!” Roman grabs the nearest wouldn’t-do-serious-damage object—an empty Coke can—and hurls it at him. “Stop laughing and help me!”

“Don’t know what you want help with, Roenby!” Remus practically sings. “I’m not the one who caught feelings!”

“I didn’t catch feelings! They hit me in the face! Just now! Stop laughing at me!”

Remus is a terrible brother and very lucky Roman is too busy trying to figure out how glo wants Remus to help to smack him in the face with a pillow. Roman lands on “Plan. Help me think—wait, no, you’d be terrible at wooing. Nevermind!”

“Hey!”

Roman sticks out glows tongue and zooms to glows room.

“I could woo if I very well pleased!” Remus calls after glow.

“No you couldn’t!” Roman calls back, slamming glows door to ensure that glo got the last word. Ha.

Brother sufficiently bothered, Roman turns glows attention back to Janus, scrambling around for something to use to write. Glo finds a marker—not ideal, but there’s no time to worry about things like whether glo has the perfect writing utensil— and then digs around for something to write on. It’s only when glo’s about to scribble down ideas on an already-full page of school notes that Roman forces glowself to slow down and think. Realizing glo has a crush doesn’t suddenly put glow on a time limit, and speeding around to make a plan and start wooing Janus will likely have less-than-optimal results, as evidenced by the nearly-just-destroyed-glows-notes thing.

So, although part of glo wants to run to Janus’s house (which… glo doesn’t even know where that is) and serenade him until he either agrees to be glows boyfriend or rejects glow, Roman turns on some music, pulls out glows colored pencils and Enchanted Forest coloring book, and spends the next ten minutes tuning out everything else with the sweet tunes of Beyonce and colored pencils swishing against paper. By the time glo’s done, glo’s calmer, ready to think through making a plan to woo Janus, and has a bomb-looking new page done.

As it turns out, though, making plans to woo someone is difficult. Glo comes up with ‘subtly gauge his interest’ easily enough, but then what? Confessing? Straight Gay up telling Janus glo likes him? No thank you.

Instead, glo expands upon the first part, until glo has:

Step 1 - call him pet names

Step 2 - see how he reacts to the idea of them dating

Step 3 - ???

Step 4 - profit

This is definitely a foolproof plan, glo decides. After all, by the time glo’s done the first two steps, surely glo’ll have come up with what to do next!

chapter 2

#happy birthday bennie ily!!#next chapter should be posted soon #my fics #my writing #ts roman #ts remus #ts janus #ts virgil #roceit #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic anxceit #sanders sides

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thequirkdetective · 4 years ago

Text

Investigation 12: Half-Cold Half-Hot – Shoto Todoroki

We’re finally back, despite the efforts of our teachers. Unfortunately, due to our new sporadic college workload we won’t be updating as consistently as we would like. I’m sure you don’t want to read through the details of how and why our uploads will be changing (the information will be at the end just in case), but the gist is we can still promise with as much certainty as it is possible to muster in these times that we will post at least one investigation a month. And here is the rather overdue next one!

‘The peppermint man’. ‘50/50’. ‘Two for the price of one’, ‘1-A’s pretty boy’, ‘the guy with the fiery childhood’, ‘icy spicy’, ‘season 1 budget movie villain’, ‘no but seriously what is with that first costume’. I am of course talking about Shoto Todoroki. I have been avoiding his quirk for a while now, since it basically gives us twice the work. But I decided now that we’re barely scraping by on our upload schedule, this was the perfect time to give us more to do. Let’s get down to business.

It’s safe to assume for the moment that the two halves of the quirk are complementary and caused by the same phenomenon. This is most likely not the case, due to the quirks coming form two unrelated people, but it is possible the quirks are reverse manifestations of the same effect. We already know multiple people can have the same quirk, so why not two people with opposite quirks?

The ice side is easier, so we’ll look at it first. When Todoroki uses this (preferred) side, he can lower the temperature around him, and/or create ice seemingly wherever he wants. The immediate question is ‘where does all the ice come from?’, and to answer that let’s see how much ice Todoroki can create.

During his infamous match against Sero, Todoroki creates a giant wall of ice and traps Sero within it[1]. The volume is immense, and immensely inconsistent. From one angle it barely brushes the front row, but when we see it from outside the stadium it has clearly reached metres beyond the top of the walls, and seems to have encased the top few rows of seating.

It appears at least 10 times as tall as Sero, who comes in at 177cm tall, according to the BNHA wiki (and I assume some officially licensed BNHA book of statistics). The ice is therefore around 20m high, at the very least. However, for another angle it looks twice the height of the stadium roof, which I estimate to be around 50m. Well, 50m is a good estimate for the average sports stadium, but this stadium seems at least twice as high on account of the odd curved roof. Let’s call 50m a good compromise.

The volume of any cone is equal to 1/3*π*r2*h, where r is the radius of the cone’s circular base, and h is the distance from the plane of the base to the top of the cone. This equation holds irrespective of slant, so we can apply it to an approximation of Todoroki’s ice wall. The radius of the base seems about 5x Sero’s height, or ~10m. Therefore, the volume of ice created is around 5200m3, 4% of the titanic, or 2.1 Olympic swimming pools. Since water expands when frozen, the block of ice contains 4800 cubic metres of water – 1.9 Olympic swimming pools. The question is, where on earth did all that water come from?

The first, and most obvious, answer is the air. Air can contain up to 4% water by mass. From this, we can calculate the volume of air that was cooled below 0°C (32°F). It comes out as 120000kg of air, equivalent to 147000000m3, 260x the volume of air contained within the sports stadium. If this volume were cooled in such a way, the effect would be first and foremost the crowd being cooled ridiculously fast, and almost dying from hypothermia. As the air cooled, the water would freeze, and fall as a sort of snow-mist, rather than condensing into a spectacular wall of ice.

A similar problem is seen if we examine the other quirk. It cannot simply cause heating since flames rise from Todoroki’s body, showing something is combusting. We therefore know the quirks involve changing the temperature of the surroundings, along with / by producing ice and fire.

The fire side is much more straightforward in this manner. Todoroki’s body produces a petrochemical that ignites due to the heat produced at the same time. The production of the chemical is both simple and arbitrary, most likely some hydrocarbon similar to petrol (gasoline). If you want to read about how this may be produced, it would be similar to Bakugou’s quirk, which I talked about al the way back in Investigation 4. The ice production is similar, since the body already produces water from the skin in the form of sweat. The real issue is the forced and rapid temperature change.

The body regulates temperature in two ways, based on whether it is too hot or too cold. If too hot, it sweats, which isn’t useful if trying to produce temperatures below 0°C. This is because sweating removes heat from the skin via the evaporation of the sweat, which requires an energy input known as ‘the latent heat of vaporisation of water’. As the sweat evaporates from the skin, it takes that energy with it, and the skin cools. Additionally, the body can dilate blood vessels close to the surface of the skin, meaning more blood flowing close to the surface. The heat this blood carries can then be transferred to the skin and to the surroundings via conduction and convection respectively. This is why you go red when you get hot – your body routes more blood to your skin.

If the body is too cold, it shivers, and the excess heat produced by muscle activity warms it back up. This is not very useful for producing temperatures high enough to light petrol, as muscles physically cannot work that fast – if they could there would be recorded cases of athletes suffering burns from exercise. Also, blood vessels close to the skin narrow, in an opposite effect to the dilation of vessels discussed above. However, if this were to cause such large heating as to ignite gasoline, the blood would have to be at a very high temperature, and thus when the quirk deactivates and the blood vessels narrow, lots of that incredibly hot blood is routed towards Todoroki’s internal organs, and he suffers heatstroke and/or internal burns. Not to mention the fact that the blood would burn whatever vessels it flowed through, and whatever tissues those were near, and no doubt cause heatstroke anyway. We therefore need some other way of causing temperature change, something a little more drastic in effect, but less drastic in side-effect.

The barrier to this, of course, is that Todoroki appears mostly unaffected when he uses his quirks – no frostbite for a good while, and no extra burns. We do know Todoroki is capable of being burned, and he does get frostbite after prolonged ice-side use, but why not immediately if the heat comes from his body?

In fact, let’s go on a little tangent to prove Todoroki killed Sero. Just for fun. The concept of cryogenics is popular in sci-fi, but has one fatal flaw in practical terms – when the human body is frozen, ice crystals form in the cells and blood. Since ice has a larger volume than water, this causes the cells in question to expand and burst, leading to death. Also, ice crystals flowing through the blood tear the lining of the blood vessels and lead to haemorrhaging, and you guessed it, death. Additionally, frostbite occurs when bodily tissues fall below 0 and begin to freeze. Since Sero is unable to move, that means his flesh has completely frozen solid, causing Fourth Degree frostbite at least. No frostbite level exists for such injuries, because they usually cause death before treatment can be administered. If Sero were to be thawed, his skin would become black and mummified, and undergo a process known as autoamputation – his limbs would fall off. However, autoamputation is caused by lack of blood flow, since his blood vessels have been constricted and destroyed by the cold. This effect is seen everywhere, most notably around major organs such as the heart, lungs, and brain, where lack of blood leads to a heart attack, asphyxiation, and coma respectively. Sero would therefore suffer severe frostbite over his entire body, gain serious tissue damage in all his organ tissues, suffer internal bleeding if indeed his blood didn’t clot immediately, suffer a heart attack, fall unconscious, suffocate, and die. Not to mention the top row of the crowd who seem from certain angles to have got encased in the ice too, who would undergo similar symptoms. Many of the crowd would suffer frostbite of varying degrees, and many more would become hypothermic if the stadium wasn’t quickly reheated by Todoroki. Sadly, he only has the good grace to thaw Sero. Which, come to think of it, would kill him again. Rapid thawing of hypothermic individuals leads to ‘rewarming shock’, categorised as a drop in blood pressure after acute rewarming. It is unknown I think you’re right Todoroki, you may have gone overboard.

Right, back to Todoroki. Another problem plaguing his quirk is thus: if the ice does not come from the air, it must also come from his body like sweat, but the volume of water created is over 2 billion times the volume of the average human body. Sadly, it looks like we have another conservation-law-breaker, this time violating conservation of mass. Todoroki does not weigh 120000kg (264555lbs, or 120 metric tonnes), or he would stand up on two feet and immediately start sinking through the floor, as well as being so dense and water-filled he could not move. In fact, he could stand on the second floor of a building, or even exist on soil, lest he collapse it or sink into it. It is impossible for him to store that much water within him, and so the question again arises: ‘where one earth does all that water come from?’.

Many times we see the ice appearing to rise from the ground, including during the Todoroki vs Sero fight, but this again is not a satisfactory explanation. Firstly, concrete has no water to be drawn out, and even if it did the amount of water is so immense that the volume of effect would be kilometres cubed. And how would Todoroki even draw water from the ground without being in a very different animated show?

The ice wall is (fittingly) posing a significant obstacle, so let’s turn our attention to the base cause of both effects, and see if it gives any insight. Many metabolic reactions release heat, including the reaction that causes muscles too move. These reactions are not meant to release heat (as a primary function), and the heat instead arises from their inefficiency. The benefit of this is the body’s ability to regulate temperature without having a designated function for producing heat. For us though, this is an issue.

However, one of the main sources of heat is digesting food. The process is only 25% efficient, and 75% of ingested food’s energy is released as heat. So, how much food would Todoroki have to eat to create the heat required for ignition?

The spontaneous ignition temperature for gasoline is 280°C (536°F), which means that if his Todoroki’s blood was to be raised to this temperature it would be 100°C above its boiling point, and would stop flowing through his veins. This is a problem. When blood ‘boils’, it doesn’t do so cleanly. It consist of many types of cells and proteins suspended in blood plasma. When the blood is heated past 100°C, these cells and proteins coagulate and precipitate from suspension. The temperature would also most likely render them denatured and thus unable to function (haemoglobin denatures at roughly 65°C). The plasma would then boil, causing bubbles to form in the blood that block arteries, known as gas embolisms. These cause symptoms such as loss of consciousness, vertigo, numbness, paralysis, and many other mental and physical symptoms. These would not have time to appear, as Todoroki would both asphyxiate from having no red blood cells (like anaemia, but the worst case of anaemia possible), or be killed as he is essentially cooked sous-vide by his own body.

Ok, back to the food. To raise a kilogram of water by 1°C, you need 1 Calorie of energy (not to be confused with 1 calorie, which is how much energy is needed to heat 1 gram of water by 1°C). Therefore, to heat the entirety of Todoroki’s body by 1°C you need around 66.4 Calories of energy. To heat to 280°C, this number becomes around 16800 Calories. Muscle efficiency brings it to 22400C, and finally divide by the calorific content of a Big Mac (other fast food burgers are available) to find out that Todoroki would need to consume 39927 Big Macs (£127000 here in the UK, $151000 in the US) to heat himself to the flash point of gasoline by shivering. This may be the most useless fact we’ve calculated thus far, but at least we did calculate it.

It seems therefore that the method of heating via blood is incredibly inefficient and unfeasible – after all, we didn’t even factor in the latent heat of water fusion. However, it rather sadly unavoidable, since when a body part is heated, blood flow carries much of that heat from the site of heating to the rest of the body, at least when the heating is as slow as shivering. If the heat were to be concentrated, and only one muscle fired, the energy requirement would be much less significant, but the strain on the individual muscle would be so large as to cause serious damage to the tissue. Also, if only 1/1000 of his muscles were used, it would still be the equivalent of 15 Big Macs (other fast food burgers are available), causing severe fatigue. It seems the generation of heat itself is another thing to be banished to the realms of fiction.

At this point, I fear the worst. However, we must strive forward and examine one last quality of the quirk that has been bugging me – why is Todoroki so unaffected by the temperature change?

Wood Frogs can survive temperatures as low as -18°C (0°F) for months at a time, by increasing the glucose content of their blood as a cryoprotectant. Granted, the woods frogs are usually cooled at a rate of at most 2°C per hour, but if the glucose was already present or more rapidly created, then the process could theoretically guard against much steeper drops in temperature.

The flame is more of a problem. Todoroki cannot secrete a fire-resistant substance from his skin, since it would mingle with the fuel, and either prevent ignition or have no effect. The fuel if in constant contact with Todoroki’s skin, so it must be the skin itself that is flame resistant. However, Todoroki has a prominent burn on his skin, that was inflicted after his quirk manifested, so his skin is not heat-resistant. It could reasonably be, however, that his face does not have heat-resistant properties. This could be for many reasons, including a lack of need since to produce flames from his face would damage his eyes and mouth, as well as the fact that these organs may be adversely affected by whatever causes the heat-resistance. This is most likely layers o heat-resistant material, for example silicone, or some other natural polymer, that insulates Todoroki’s internal organs from the heat and cold. This does however mean that any heat created by Todoroki’s body would not be able to travel to the surface of the skin and light the gasoline-like fuel, so the heat must somehow come from the skin. However, since the heat generation is impossible anyway, this is not an issue.

So, after discounting a lot of processed to impossibility, we have finally arrived at a semi-plausible explanation of Todoroki’s quirk. Either water or a hydrocarbon fuel is secreted from his skin, and then cells in his skin raise of lower the temperature accordingly, causing the water to freeze or the fuel to catch fire. This causes the effects seen in the show, but to prevent the temperature changes from damaging his body, Todoroki’s skin contains fire-resistant polymers, and his cells high glucose levels, to guard against high and low temperatures respectively.

[1] Season 2 Episode 20: Victory or Defeat

Warning – boring details of our lives incoming!

As you may have noticed, this upload is 16 days late. The reason, as you may also know, is our new schools. We’re both now UK sixth-form students, and squeezing this blog into our schedules has been a challenge beyond belief. The problem has been worsened by my decision to study 4 A-Levels, meaning I mostly work 9 hours a day, 7 days a week. Covid worsens matters yet further, piling on extra time and stress for each piece of work.

Each post here takes a good few hours to compile, research, cite, and write, clocking in at about 20 hours per post, at least. In addition to our mortal needs for food, drink, and sleep, we are in grave mental need of breaks and time-off for seeing friends, doing hobbies, or getting more sleep. I hope you can now see why our uploads have been unstable to say the least. We are working as hard as we can, but we are also aware that to push harder would increase stress, and decrease the quality of both this blog and our school work. I hope that you are patient with us during this time, and stick around for the content we do eventually produce.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #todoroki shoto #shoto torodoki #tw: burns #burns #tw: death #death #quirk investigation #bnha analysis

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laurelsofhighever · 4 years ago

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The Falcon and the Rose ch. 67 - The War Dog in the Slips

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: None Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland, Cailan/Anora (background) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

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This letter is written on fine paper, in a steady if slightly scrawling hand, pressed with the seal of a rose in burgundy wax.

Twelfth day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Dear Cailan,

Rosslyn agreed to marry me! She said yes, can you believe it? I know Brantis says personal matters should come after business in official correspondence, but this is important. She’s going to be my wife. I know I didn’t tell you I planned to ask her, or really ask permission, and I’m sorry for that. Everything after the battle was so muddled. To be honest when I did the words sort of slipped out without me really thinking about them, but I know you’ll be happy for me – us. There’s an us now.

Fergus has agreed to the match, to make it official as the head of her household, although Rosslyn said she would have challenged him to a duel if he’d refused, and of course after all the excitement died down she just had to go and be clever and point out there would need to be a wedding if I really wanted her to be my wife.

Since I do (very much) that’s part of the reason for this letter – neither of us know how to plan a wedding. The last one either of us attended was yours, and of course we didn’t have any hand in the arrangements. Rosslyn (my wife-to-be!) has been quiet about it, but I know she feels a bit out of her depth and misses the experience her parents might have shared with her, but we would both be honoured if you and Anora would lend your wisdom. She is writing a similar request to her grandparents in the Storm islands, and – she’s just smiled at me and now I’ve completely lost my train of thought. I never thought I’d be so lucky.

In any case, we should be with you in Denerim within two weeks, though our departure from Highever may be delayed for a few more days. R is worried about her brother’s condition, even though Enchanter Amell has agreed to stay behind and continue as his healer, and she herself is recovering only slowly from her injuries – slower than she would like, anyway. She has resumed training since you left, and is determined as I’ve ever seen her. Despite the strain, she’s insistent on learning the use of her left hand for more than just shieldwork. I understand why, but she keeps accusing me of clucking over her like a broody hen. I would have thought I’d merit something a little more impressive, like a dragon, or maybe a griffin. When I say that it makes her laugh, at least, so it isn’t all bad.

But I cannot take up an entire letter talking only about my betrothed(!) when the report of your victory in Denerim lies on the desk in front of me. We hope all is well, and that casualties have been minimal. We have also received news of unrest in Amaranthine, from both the banns and the people, which I hope won’t cause too much of a delay in us joining you, but aid has to be brought to the freeholders and sedition routed before it really takes root. One day, we’ll have a year where the entire country isn’t at its own throat – won’t that be nice.

Your brother,

Alistair

PS, She knows about the book. I’ll say no more and only mentioned this much because otherwise you’ll ask and then she’ll ask why I’m blushing and then I’ll have to tell her. Just know I’m happier than I thought possible, and that your advice is something I don’t know how to repay.

Cailan’s grip on the letter warped the paper as he scanned it a second time, the carefree betrayal of happiness turning a sour feeling in his stomach. His thoughts were unworthy of him, but shadows had preyed on his mind since the battle at Highever, twisting even the most innocent of gestures into cynical attacks, and it took effort not to perceive every line as a slight. He ought to be happy for Alistair, that his brother and Rosslyn had found contentment together, but the snide hollow in his mind that had been gaining a louder and louder voice in recent days pricked at the fragile walls he tried to build around his charity. Would it really be too far a stretch to believe the letter a veiled crow of triumph, his half-brother gloating that he had won the affection of the woman who rallied armies around her with a mere word and whose smile lit her face like the first grace of morning? To think of the queen she would have made…

She blamed him for what happened to her, he knew. He had been too paralysed by the strange terror that had come over him to run to her aid before the walls of Castle Cousland, and that shameful hesitation had almost cost her life. The sudden still on the battlefield haunted him. The shriek of pierced metal and the silence that followed chased him through his nightmares every time he closed his eyes, mocking him, goading him with the lack that everyone had seen in him since he took the throne. Maric would not have hesitated so; the great rebel king who had saved Ferelden would have rushed to put himself before the blade, would have won the heart of the fair maiden, would have halted Loghain’s descent into madness before it even began and thereby spared his subjects the chaos of war.

And Alistair – his brother was a proven warrior, amiable and respected. What had Rosslyn seen in him that she had not seen in the king himself? The pair of them must laugh at him, whispering secrets and plans in their bower as they held each other close. They had stood against Eamon, and won the trust of the Storm Islands – how short a leap it would be, with the other deals they must have made in Orzammar, and the Bannorn, and across the Waking Sea, for them to supplant him. When they reached Denerim, the people would cheer them as deserving heroes and the court would fawn over them while he looked on and was forced to smile even as they drove the dagger into his back.

One of the logs in the fire cracked and fell into two pieces. As the sparks vanished up the chimney, Cailan rubbed a hand down the side of his face and deliberately folded the letter from Alistair before laying it aside on the desk. He was sleeping poorly, and the fatigue made him restless, suspicious. On some days, even Anora turned into an enemy, one whose movements he tracked down to the wine she poured for him, so that he might discover any hint she still took her father’s side and only waited to overthrow him. In those moments, he dreaded that Rosslyn had told the queen of the half-baked plan to divorce her, and any protest from the more valiant part of himself was smothered by the knowledge that the Gwaren soldiers paroled at Highever had sworn their loyalty to his wife, and not to him.

“The people are starving, the nobles discontented, and sleep will not come for me,” he grunted, reaching for the decanter of brandy he had set on the table next to him. “I suffer nothing more.” The lies slipped away more easily with drink, and the fog that settled over him was preferable to the chase of dreams through his mind, the swirls of green smoke and voices calling out in reproach.

Next to him, an elderly mabari with milky eyes and a grey mask of fur around her muzzle lifted her head to whine at him.

“I know, Biscuit. I should know better than to disturb your naps with my malaising.” He reached down to stroke her head as she dropped it on his lap. “Any insight you can give me into Loghain’s plans would be helpful.”

There was the truly disturbing part. Rosslyn’s bartered blood mage had revealed that Erimond had planned to open a gateway to the Fade using the bloodshed at Highever, and whether or not Loghain had been party to the full plan, only luck had turned the battle’s purpose before the ritual was completed. All intelligence now pointed to a search for an equally powerful source of entropic energy. Regardless of whether Erimond found it, the threat to Ferelden now went beyond mundane civil war.

Biscuit whined again, and added her paw to Cailan’s knee, looking up with the same imploring, white-rimmed gaze she had first used on him as a pup when he had walked through the kennels on his twentieth birthday. The door to the study opened and he caught the smell of lavender and orange flowers, Anora’s winter perfume, and the tap of her shoes on the floorboards. Tail wagging, the dog creaked to her feet and limped over to ask for attention from the newcomer.

“What do you have there?” the queen asked as she bent to scratch between Biscuit’s shoulders. Her gaze swept over the accounts and reports organised on his desk, the ones he had been perusing when his thoughts took their dark turn. At first, she had been surprised that he applied himself voluntarily to bureaucracy, had been snide about Rosslyn’s apparent ability to train him to paperwork when his own wife could not, but in the time since arriving in Denerim, she had offered only help. He pushed away the thought that she was just waiting for him to prove himself incompetent and offered her a smile.

“It’s a letter from Alistair,” he said. “My brother has asked Lady Rosslyn to marry him, and she has accepted.”

She nodded. “They deserve some happiness after all of this – her especially. It is a shame her parents are not here to marry them out of her own house.”

“A greater shame that they were murdered,” he replied.

Anora pursed her lips, deciding whether to rise to the bait, but straightened her shoulders after a moment and crossed the room to lay yet more papers onto his desk.

“I came to bring you the scout reports from the Southron Hills,” she told him. “Though I hope you will not linger as late tonight as you did yesterday. You need your rest, and Ferelden needs it too.”

Meeting the pale blue gaze, Cailan slumped. His wife stood with the same neutral poise that had so fascinated him growing up, her hands folded in front of her and every golden hair on her head perfectly set in place, waiting for him to respond. And he was being unworthy, as sulky as he ever was as a teenager realising his life would never truly be just his alone. The events of the past year were not her fault; Loghain had used them both to further his own ambitions.

“Forgive me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am suffering a lack of sleep, now I think on it.”

The narrow shoulders, held so stiff and straight, relaxed slightly. “I worry for you.”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he suggested, conviction settling the tremor in his voice. “We can… talk.”

“I am at my husband’s disposal, of course,” she answered, the smile she turned on him guarded, but genuine in the way it brought a crease to the corners of her eyes.

“Good. That’s – good.”

The past could not be undone, but nor could he step forward with despair keeping pace like a hound at his heels. Unless he fixed the problems that had led to war in the first place, he might find himself sitting in the very same position at some point in the not-so-distant future, presiding over a divided court with bodies towering on both sides. It was not just a habit for paperwork Rosslyn had drilled into him over the months on campaign; her wisdom haunted him. One who cannot keep the peace has not yet won it.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #rosslyn cousland #cousland #f!cousland #alistair x cousland #king cailan #queen anora #cailan x anora #the falcon and the rose

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 5 years ago

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A View To A Winchester (Part 5)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.

Section Word Count: 3,000

Section Warnings: fluff, angst, some R-rated language, Dean flirting/arousing/eating/breathing - the man needs his own warning label

~~~~~

Julie had done some reconnaissance before heading out her front door. She stared at Wes and Samuel’s backyard for some minutes prior. There was no sign of them. Samuel’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway. She figured she had a few minutes to take the walk around and past their corner house in safety. They wouldn’t assault her with questions about where she was off to, taking a stroll she never took in her neighborhood. And they wouldn’t ask what she had in that box she was holding so carefully.

This can’t end well, can it? Her thoughts of Dean were confused and irrational. She was going by pure feeling. And that hadn’t always proved the best course of action.

He’s too fucking gorgeous and too much of a flirt. Guys like that will usually sleep with anyone that tug at the bait. Her father had been that way. Handsome. Could have had his pick of any woman he wanted. And even though he’d one hell of a wife in her mother, he insisted on rutting with anything that came sniffing. Mom had finally had enough twenty years ago and divorced him. She would have taken him for everything she could, if he’d anything worth taking.

And, here she was, having just gone through an eerily similar situation with her now ex-husband… walking up the incline to Dean Winchester’s front door.

Maybe it’s genetic? I could blame this very bad idea on that. Tonight, that’s what I’ll do. She glanced around the side of the house she never saw up close. The cream-colored siding could use a power washing, but the front lawn was neat and tidy. Just like his backyard. There was no landscaping to speak of and the concrete driveway had seen better days.

His Impala, seated on her throne yards away from the door, demanded the spotlight. The slick black paint shone more than usual. Julie wondered if he’d taken her through a car wash that day. Or maybe he’d washed her himself. Then, she thought about Dean wet and soapy, rubbing his body all over that car, hosing her down. Hose me down, Jesus. Her brain short circuited for a second.

I could turn around and head back. It’s not too late. I could just leave it on the step and text him when I get back home. The sky was turning a dusty pink with purple ribbons.

No doorbell. The berry red front door teased and tested the outreached fingers of one hand as she balanced the dessert in the other.

She pulled her hand back. Eyes closed. Head tilted. There was a split second where she’d decided to leave. An immediate flash in her thoughts of Dean’s smiling face, those green eyes, those lips, overpowered her senses. She opened her eyes to the sound of her betraying knuckles as they rapped on the door.

You are not desperate. You are going after something you want.

She waited. Some time went by. An awkward amount of time.

Maybe it wasn’t loud enough. Maybe he’s in the shower. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe this really was a bad idea. Oh God, what if he has a woman over?

She turned and darted down the small landing and got halfway across the walkway when she heard him. “Julie?”

She pressed her lids together in embarrassment, took a quick breath, and prepared to face the music that was Dean Winchester.

Damn. He was even more tempting than the last time she’d seen him. Surprise overtook his exquisite features. A blank expression gazed at her, open and waiting. His lips parted. Grey sweatpants and a cadet blue Henley draped over his frame. But fabric still hugged taut muscles and beautiful curves. She tried to regain her focus and stared at the ground by his... Shit, and he’s barefoot. Even his feet are fucking perfect. His toes wiggled on the concrete. Just take me now, Dean. She sighed and, realizing no part of him would be unattractive or neutral territory, returned his inspection.

“Is everything okay?” He looked past her onto the street and did a quick survey of the area around him. She nodded. His brow furrowed and then his gaze landed on the box in her hands.

“I made a cake.” Her arms outstretched. It was the only motion she could think to make at the time. “Thought you might want a piece.”

“Oh.” A small smile danced over his mouth in a wave.

She retracted the box back to her chest. “I should have called first. Sorry.”

“No. It’s more than fine. I just…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve such special treatment.”

Have you looked at yourself? “Kind of selfishness on my part.”

He gave her that quizzical look again.

“Want to see how much you enjoy my dessert, up close and personal.” She quipped.

He licked his lips on instinct. “You’re giving me lots of opportunities to not behave myself with this mouth o’ mine.”

Jesus. “Is that a preemptive apology, or a promise?” She couldn’t help it. He brought out the flirt in her, full on. Her reaction was like a runaway train with no conductor at the controls.

His laugh was deep, sexy. “Come on in. I won’t apologize for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” He nudged the front door open with a bare foot and stuffed his hands into hidden pockets. A step back cleared the threshold.

She walked towards him. When she got closer to his figure, she had to look up to meet his gaze. Almost a foot taller, his presence made her feel small and vulnerable. The grin didn’t help to calm the sensations. He uses Irish Spring soap. She wiggled her nose at the clean, fresh out of the shower scent his skin exuded.

The house wasn’t much on the inside in terms of construction. But it possessed a style somewhere between mountain man and perpetual bachelor. All Dean. Dark paneled wood confirmed a 70s architectural build that had never been updated. The open living room and kitchen area felt smaller than it was because of the dim lighting. She squinted through her glasses. A floor lamp was on and near a muted, flat screen television atop a console table. Something was blowing up on the screen, flashing and illuminating the lived-in space. She stepped in farther. Her flats skimmed off a small area rug to tap onto wood laminate. Stale beer and spicy alcohol permeated the stagnant air in the room. She wondered again how much he drank on a regular basis. The front door click froze her in place.

He appeared at her side. “Let me.” His eager open hands waited. The box dropped into them. “Whoa. Heavy. What’d you make?” He strolled over to the breakfast bar along the edge of the kitchen. The broad shoulders got her all swoony. Bowlegs weren’t as obvious in the baggy sweatpants. The curvy ass, however, was quite prominent. He waited for an answer with an expectant look after placing the dessert on the counter.

“Oh. Just a white cake with chocolate frosting. Um, have you ever had a Tastykake Chocolate Junior?”

“More than likely.” He shrugged. “Convenience store grub was sustenance for many, many years.”

She filed that bit of information away for future dissection. “It’s a pretty spot on flavor recreation. They were my favorite growing up.”

“Should I slice it up then? See if it jogs my memory?”

She smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Make yourself comfortable.” He pointed to the living room. “Move whatever you need to.”

Even the couch is covered in plaid. An open bag of chips occupied a spot where she guessed he’d been sitting. A couple beer bottles were on the coffee table. Again.

She debated on whether to sit on the armchair or the tiny lumberjack couch. There were some books and papers on the chair. She plopped on the empty side of the two-seater. The chips were placed on the table after a careful bag fold over.

Her body shifted, ancy and excited. Should she do the relaxed, one leg folded under the other? How far of a tilt in his general direction? Had she dressed up too much? She tugged at the low-neck paisley peasant top she’d thrown on with her dark jeans. A finger wiped at the corner of her mouth, reminding her of the shiny gloss applied before she left the house. A faint cherry flavor hit the tip of her tongue.

Her gaze wandered back to him while she continued her inner debate on the best position. He’d gotten out plates and rested a rather long knife on the counter. His fingers lifted the box lid. “Oh, man,” he mumbled to himself. He reached in and pulled out the cake, his focus never leaving the treat. Her eyes widened when he grabbed the knife and flipped it in his hands like a skilled warrior. The blade slid into the cake without hesitation. He repeated the action three more times and then served the slices. His brow lifted and he looked over to Julie. “A cake like this deserves milk, but I’m fresh out. Water do? Beer?”

“Um, water’s good.” She was still getting over the display he’d put on.

He nodded, grabbing two bottles from the fridge and wedging them between his arm and side. He strolled over with a plate in each hand and offered one to Julie. The waters dropped on the table.

“Wow. You don’t play around.” She laughed at the enormous pieces he’d doled out.

“I do not… at least when it comes to dessert.” He settled into the seat beside her, thighs splayed out, encroaching into her territory. He pointed at Julie with the tines of his fork. “And, if you can’t finish yours, I will.” He leaned back and brought the plate to perch at his midsection.

She scooted back, deciding a cross legged approach would have to do to avoid brushing against him. The cake plate rested on her lap. Her gaze traced his body from his very close knee all the way back to his face. “You don’t even know if you’ll like it yet.”

He scoffed. “Please.” His grin turned playful. Yes, I could definitely stare at this man for an indefinite amount of time. “Ready?” He inquired with a side glance.

Her cheeks rose along with the wide smile she returned him. “Ready.”

He cleared his throat in deference to the upcoming act. Julie pursed her lips together. His fork sank into the dessert. “I’ve got to get a decent amount of both cake and frosting for this to be a fair sample to judge.” He nodded and tilted the forkful in inspection. His jaw dropped like a nutcracker. He shoveled the mound of cake into his mouth and chewed. Eyes shut as the chews continued. There were no audible cues expressing enjoyment this time, compared to the meal they shared on the patio. The silence was gut wrenching, but Dean’s physical actions were making Julie’s mouth water. She wanted to dive on top of him and latch lips onto that pout. The man was legit dampening her panties. She squirmed in her cross-legged position.

His eyes bolted open and he swallowed. Dean cocked his head at her. “That… is… amazing.”

She stifled a giggle rising in her throat. “Yeah? Not just saying that cause I’m right here?”

His brow dipped down, looking a bit pained in his expression. “I’m a straight shooter.”

I bet.

He attacked the cake again. Julie tried it for herself to see if he was right. She nodded at her handiwork when the smooth chocolate frosting melted in her mouth. It hadn’t gotten grainy from over whipping.

“Thanks.” Dean came up for air after a single piece remained on his plate.

“Welcome.”

“So, is this your interrogation tactic? Getting me into a sugary-stupor so I answer all your burning questions?” He grinned at her.

She stopped in mid-chew and swallowed.

“Cause it’s a pretty good play.” His eyelids looked heavy as he finished the last piece. He tossed the plate onto the table and grabbed one of the beer bottles. He went with the one leg folded under the other position this time and shifted at her, full tilt.

She cleared her throat, feeling the heat of his gaze. A long swig of beer and smack of his lips warmed her cheeks. “I was just being neighborly.” She lifted a shoulder.

“Hm.” White light from the television danced over his face. His stare seemed chiseled out of marble in the strobing spotlight. “Coming over unannounced. And, considering you didn’t want me in your house… why’d you think I’d invite you in?” His jaw clenched after the question.

Shit. “I had cake.” It was half statement, half question.

“Secret weapon aside,” he mumbled, “chocolate frosting wouldn’t protect you from… well, you don’t know anything about me.” His eyes drew her in further, danger and searing intensity illuminated with each flash.

“I’d like to know you,” she whispered back without thinking, inwardly cursing at the admission.

He gave her a small smile. “Might not like what you find. I’m much better if you take me in small doses.” His hand lifted. A flat palm, dangling the bottleneck between two fingers, slid in the air. “Deal with what’s on the surface. Digging deeper is usually a disappointment.” He drank again, then thumbed the bottle opening.

She sighed. “Well, I guess we just do the good neighbor thing and keep things civil, distant.”

He nodded. “Would be for the best.”

She dropped the plate onto the table. “Should I go then?”

He shook his head. “I like your company. Almost as sweet as that cake.”

“That’s all surface stuff.” She tested.

“Is it now?” He leaned in a little closer. His arm draped over the seat back. “Just proving my point.” A grin.

Julie held his gaze and inhaled. “Spill with some surface stuff, then. To appease my curiosity.”

“Okay.” The word dripped out of his mouth, slow, like honey. “I’m 43.” He waited.

Julie smiled. “Are you expecting me to tell you how old I am?”

“I’m not stupid enough to guess.”

Her hand wiggled a finger in the air. “Point for you.” But she chose not to answer.

The triumphant, pleased with himself smile returned. “Moved here a couple years back. Used to work with my brother. Now, I take care of business solo.”

She nodded. “I won’t ask what kind of business.”

“Thanks. That wouldn’t be a simple explanation.” Another sip of beer. “Uh,” he cleared his throat in thought, “I listen to classic rock… nothing else is real music, anyway.” He caught the rise of her eyebrow. “In my opinion, of course. Been all over the country. Driven through almost every state, even Alaska. I hate flying. Oh, and I love my Baby.”

“Your baby?” Her heart stopped.

“My car.” He clarified. A hint of nostalgia passed over his face. “Been to hell and back in her. She belonged to my Dad.”

“She’s a beauty. You take good care of her.” Julie didn’t push for more, marveling at the little chips in his exterior.

“Family’s important to you?” Dean asked.

It made her pause. “The ones that matter are. The ones that don’t give up on you, even when it would be easier to. Those people are important to me. Those are the ones I’m loyal to.”

The smile he produced held an air of… it took her a few seconds to identify it. Respect.

“Thing is,” Dean whispered, “I think you’re a decent woman. And I consider myself a good judge of character.” His eyes peeked down to her chest for a brief instant. “And, if I do what I want to right now… well, that might make the whole neighbor thing awkward. I can be an ass,” he licked his lips, “after.”

“After what?” Nervous energy caused her fingers to fiddle with her eyeglasses.

His knees brushed against her thigh. Warm fingers skimmed up her forearm. Her breath hitched. His hand traveled up over her shoulder and swept the ends of her brown hair to rest on her back. A thumb dipped into the hollow past her clavicle. He skirted under the collar of her shirt, not asking permission. Not needing to. The thick pads of his fingers massaged the skin. His eyes never left her face. “After.” He repeated.

Charges of electricity pulsed and awakened the cells in her body. Thighs squeezed together while her mouth opened, struggling to make heads or tails of what would be the best course of action. “Being an ass would mean no more dessert.”

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “It would.” His fingers retreated from her skin. “Shouldn’t risk it, then.”

They sat in silence for a minute, the moment gone and the space now awkward. Once she felt her heart rate return to a normal beat, she clapped her hands softly on her knees. “Well, I’m going to go. Keep the cake.” She rose. “Figure out how much you want to keep.” She stared down at the confused look on his face. “And bring me the rest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“When you come by to mow my lawn.”

He smiled. “Still want me to?”

“Of course.”

“Okay then.” Even though she hurried, expecting to beat him to the door, he managed to get there first again. “Still wanna get to know me?”

She nodded. “I’ve got lots of time.”

He sighed. “I might not be that patient.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy. For either of us.” She let herself out and stepped into the dusk.

“Julie.” He called out. She turned to take in that perfect figure in the doorway. “Let me walk you back.”

“I’m just around the corner.”

“Just let me.” He raised a finger, dashing away for a few seconds, and returned wearing slippers. A quick lock of the door and he slid down the walk to join her.

She shook her head in protest. “You really don’t have to.”

“Too late.” He slowed his pace and strolled with her in the night. The neighborhood only had a few streetlights scattered throughout. They were flickering in that fickle in between before true night enveloped the area. Their short walk was in the shadows of trees and Wes and Samuel’s house.

“Who’s going to walk you back?” she quipped.

“I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t see his face well but sensed a smirk. His slippers shuffled on the asphalt.

When they rounded the corner and her house was in sight, she raised a hand. “There. You can watch me from here.”

“Uh-uh. To the door.” He trudged up the hill.

“You’re quite chivalrous for an apparent ass.”

He chuckled. “I do try sometimes.”

The rest of the walk was in silence, side by side, until Julie took the lead up the narrow concrete path. She bounced up the two steps to the square slab that was her tiny porchway and turned back. It was quick enough to catch that he’d been admiring her ass as he stood on the path by the bottom step.

She was thankful he couldn’t see the blush she felt creeping up on her cheeks. “Well, good deed done.”

His hands plunged into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded. And waited.

She sighed and pulled out the key to unlock her door. “Are you worried I’m going to get attacked by a monster hiding in the bushes?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

The door acquiesced and Julie stepped inside. “Satisfied.”

“I will be when you lock the door behind you.”

She shook her head and whispered through the narrowing gap. “Night, Dean.”

“Good Night, Julie.”

Part 6

Series Page

#dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic series #supernatural fanfiction #spnfanficpond #dean x ofc #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #spn fanfiction

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roswellroamer · 5 years ago

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Day 15. February 13, 2020. Franz Josef to Rangiora via Arthur's Pass. 420km.

Woke up a little foggy. Oh yeah, the weather was too. The open mike singers at Snakebite brewery had one or two excellent voices I really enjoyed and I may have had too much beer... 🍻 But at least the motel was just around the corner and morning came too quickly. One item I am not sure I have mentioned regards the usage of the maps.me app. This app allows for an easy way to use your phone GPS anywhere. The phone always known where it is, but if in an area where there is no cell signal/data or if I am not using my cellular data due to cost/choice the phone is unable to draw/show maps on Waze, Google, etc. Maps.me allows you to download countries or regions so that you can always navigate and see where you are. I utilize the red pin drop and save features to create a track of the places I have ridden on longer journeys such as these. It is helpful to have this data to assist in retracing steps (combined with the metadata embedded in the iPhone pictures). Since I'm waxing technically, how about the freaky similarity in the land area of both Georgia and NZ's South Island. The state of Georgia exceeds the size of the South Island by about 1,000 sq. miles at over 59,000 but basically they're the same size. I couldn't really have imagined spending 3 weeks + exploring Georgia but the terrain here is almost nauseatingly scenic. Most of South and central GA isn't that exciting to ride. North Georgia would certainly provide a visitor interesting riding for a week or maybe a bit longer. Enough stuff unrelated to this day. The forecast had used the word dreary and there was a low shroud of clouds hugging the mountain ridges. A few stray drops dotted the visor as I aimed again northward toward Arthur's Pass. Shaking out the cobwebs I commented to Ted via our Sena Bluetooth communicators that even in the low shroud hiding most of the dramatic peaks, the riding has been pretty much nonstop scenic. Fern forests and sheer rocks where the road has been cut that are covered in ferns. Growing in everything crack and crevice. In fact, saw one of those mowers attached to a tractor on a hydraulic arm that was trimming the ferns today. When the scenery then changed as you wind in between scenic preserves (all named) the transition to farmland is met with seeded flowers creating a welcome mat to the berm of the road most places. Kind of like how North Carolina and zone places in Georgia plant areas of wildflowers in the median strips but this is done on both sides of the road creating a natural orange beauty line highlighting the roads. Came upon a Yamaha and a new Triumph Rocket 3 R at a construction stop light where we crammed our way to the front of the line. We followed them for a while as we wound up some tight turns. That R3 looks great! He had a nice looking Triumph bag strapped on the pillion. We actually passed them after a while. 🤷‍♂️ After meandering for a bit we opted to pull in to Ross (gold mining town) for some needed sustenance. A cappuccino and French toast garnished with grilled banana and bacon hit the spot. We were about 2' too late as a crowd of Aussie bikers from outside Brisbane was just loading in ahead of us. No spring chickens they, yet they were largely off road and headed on the fantastic network of NZ biking and hiking trails all the way to Greymouth. (Which was 66 km on the road so more for them). Good on you, bikers! 🇦🇺

Next we headed inland to cross the Southern Alps again as we had done yesterday this time back to the east via Arthur's Pass. First a 40km detour north to Greymouth since the GPS showed no fuel ahead on the pass. We headed up the pass and as is usual the windiness and elevation both increase significantly. This isn't a terribly high pass at just over 3,000 feet but snow fields and lots of runoff debris fields are revealed as we ascend. We see an unusual hotel and pull into "New Zealand's most interesting hotel", the Otira hotel. You can zoom in on the pic and see some of the depths the proprietors have gone to in order to make this place unique. There are so many curios and antiques strewn about the rooms, it oozes history. See Gollum dangling his "precious" perched on the roof's edge? Fed a couple leftover chips to the pig penned up down by Gandolph's garage. 🐖 Had the "famous" whitebait fish sandwich. Some sort of pressed pan fried whitefish on toasted bread. Pretty good! The Kiwi train rolls all along the pass somehow disappearing under the peak in a feat of underground tunneling. It came by configured for freight and stopped by the hotel for a while. Ted was supposed to ride the passenger version on the same line a year ago however the western highway we had just ridden was washed out so they couldn't make it. Imagine that! 🌧 🌧 After lunch we passed by an Italian style viaduct, open on the side away from the hill immediately followed by a waterfall which had been diverted to flow over the road on the concrete roof constructed as a water slide to launch the flow harmlessly away from the road. One last very long bridge brings you to a corner just shy of the peak which is scarily named Deaths Corner but offers a road up to a dramatic lookout. Seen there was a blacked out Road Glide with those angled mini apes that looks good. The guy is in full leathers, I think some sort of group (OK maybe gang) and he asked about my Klim gear. If I had brought it from home? He said it was good stuff and I agree! We came down the pass and there were plenty of sharp turns. 35 and 25kph suggested limits for hairpins and came by a number of ski resorts. Being on the Christchurch side of the pass these are more accessible to the population center of the South Island. As the descent continues we turn on the scenic inland route not far from where we started on our ride out of CHC two weeks ago. In fact our resting place this evening is really a suburb of CHC. We pass the now familiar trimmed hedge walls, checkered farmland and sheep. We zig zagged a couple of times thinking the GPS had it wrong but soon we pull into the well kept Riverstone Motel. First place the whole trip that had A/C (air con here) and oh my I sure enjoyed that. Mike the proprietor was helpful and off we went to town about 2.5 clicks away after a shower and change. Most of the restaurants were closed for some unknown reason. We opted for a Chinese place that was good and notable in that fried rice was ordered because no rice came with the dishes ordered, but the fried rice was so loaded with meat and chicken that there wasn't much rice! Back to the bar adjacent to the motel for a nightcap and then a much needed rest. Trip is going off without a hitch really, good fortune has smiled on us to date. 😴

#advrider #motoadventure #newzealand #franzjosefglacier

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leonhaxor · 6 years ago

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Hello, yes, welcome to a Deltarune Theory

So, we all know how Gaster was the royal scientist for King Dreemurr. Built his greatest creation, the CORE - which we know that is a massive power source - and that Gaster famously "fell into his creation." Most interpreters thin it's the CORE he fell into, but it's not exactly elaborated upon. We also know what whatever he fell into, he basically became a glitch in the system of UNDERTALE's reality.

Do we really know HOW his CORE works, though?

The CORE was Gaster's greatest creation. Which, as far as we ever knew, was an absolutely MASSIVE energy reactor that provided power to all of the Underground. These are the facts here. Judging by all the lava, it'd be safe to say the power source was geothermal in origin.

The thing is, as far as 'greatest creations' go, this seems a little bit... too mundane. Yes, it's massive. Yes, it looks like Shadow Moses and Hollow Bastion had a lovechild (the castle in KH1, not the variant with an actual town around it). Yes, the overworld theme there is a banger. But at the end of the day it's still a glorified power plant. To his credit, it's unknown how long it actually took him to make it, as well as the implied time period they were sealed away being at least around Medieval Times, if not further back.

But even then... what about the CORE could shatter Gaster's existence across time and space (assuming it was the creation at all)?

Monsters can die to a lot of the same things any other living being can die to. There might be certain allowances, based on what kind of monster they were. If the CORE was geothermal in nature, if a fire elemental was to fall into its workings... well, barring the "drop of water in an ocean" possibility, it's highly likely they'd survive intimate contact with such high levels of heat. A monster that may or may not be a skeleton, like Gaster is widely believed to be? Probably has a melting point.

With the heavy implications that his fall into the CORE spread his essence across time and space, and the specific attention to getting those details across... would a fall into a mere geothermal reactor, no matter how large, actually spread one's being across existence in such an anomalous manner? What would set it apart from dying in literally any other part of the Underground, where monsters turn to dust instead?

As we have seen in both UNDERTALE and deltarune, a Fall is an *incredibly important thing*. Chara/The First Human fell into the underground, arguably fucking up everyone as badly (if not more so) than the human wizards of old who trapped monsters in the Underground. The six human children that came after did the exact same thing, leaving only their SOULs and their gear behind for Asgore and Frisk, respectively, to use. Frisk... well, they too fell into the Underground, and gave us the means to interact with that world.

What do monsters call dying of old age in their culture? Falling down. You know who also did this by the time we're in Chapter 1 of deltarune? Gerson. There’s a book in the The one person alive who knew what the delta rune was, and who has been getting an awful lot of mention for a dead turtle, but I'll get to that later. Note that there was a distinct difference in the way that it was described for Gaster - he “fell into his own creation,” but he did not “fall down.” Humpty Dumpty might have been pushed.

But the point is, Gaster's own fall is fascinating because like in the context of the human children's falls, his Fall marked a beginning of a story (most obviously, Alphys', but I'm not sure that's where it ends), and the context of an end (such as Gerson's fall in deltarune, and his posthumous reverence by the community that he was from, much like the Followers do).

...so, what exactly might be the cause for Gaster's non-existence, regarding the CORE itself? How exactly did any of that end up being relevant?

Let's talk about deltarune's story for a second.

Recall that the Knight has been referred to by Spade King in crimson text... which, if you recall, is rather similar in color to that of the human SOUL in Kris.

But what kind of creature could this Knight be, to fight the Spade King and instill such profound loyalty within this monarch? When he is so powerful, so cunning, so ruthless, as we see him in his boss battle (as well as indirectly, though his effect on the Darkners' Kingdom)? What if I told you...

Ahem.

Jokes aside, we do have to consider what kind of monster this Knight would have to be, one with the power to create the Holy Fountains. One that we haven't actually seen onscreen, and have heard even less of than King. Except... we might actually have seen someone, or rather something, that DOES have ties with the Knight, or at least his ability to manipulate the Fountains.

Kris.

Or rather, their SOUL.

Or even more specifically... a SOUL that we simply control.

Let's walk back a bit from the stinger, and work our way from there.

Here's a picture from the final scene we have so far in the Dark World, specifically of the “fountain” that we encounter.

If you are viewing this in-game, the pattern is constantly scrolling diagonally, along the same line but in different directions. If you pay attention to it, you'll see this strange symbol that looks like a chinese fingertrap with spades on the ends.

Now take a look at this picture from the vessel creation screen. It’s been taken from just before the other menu items appear, for maximum clarity.

Note how, while there is a constant rippling effect from the center, not unlike water in a pool, we can clearly see that there is a shape being distorted.

One that bears a striking resemblance to that of the fountain itself.

Both times we see this pattern, texture, whatever you prefer calling it... there is a brief interval where we see it, before a *Red SOUL* is seen in the center of it. And, directly afterwards, we are shown a white light that encompasses the entire screen, before we are brought into the World of Light.

Curiously, in the earlier variant, the screen turns white from the center x-axis and outwards, where the second one turns white from the center y-axis and outwards. Not entirely sure of the significance of the differing choice in axis, but I think it has something to do with the context of each entry. The first is our entry into the game, or rather the prologue, while the latter is our entry into the epilogue.

I believe that the former is representative of the SOUL's entry into the CORE, while the latter is representative of it returning from the depths of the Dark World.

Yes, you read that right.

I believe that the entirety of this game take place inside the CORE.

Between the curious reactions to entering his name into either of the inputs, along with all of the references to sounds and words associated with him, most people think Gaster is the narrator in the opening sequence. Or Chara, according to @Squigglydigg's initial theories playing the game. But while that'd be interesting to explore, I'll have to go a third route for the moment, as I believe there is more evidence to back this idea up.

I might as well address the name input easter eggs before I go farther. Neither "Frisk" nor "Chara" happen to elicit any sort of unique response from the narrator whatsoever. If you name Gaster as the Vessel, the program soft resets. But if you name him as the Creator... it shuts down immediately, before you can truly enter the "R."

I believe that this narrator we are introduced to is actually a program designed by Gaster himself, made to oversee the CORE's operations.

If Gaster is named as the creator of this vessel, the program crashes. Note that this name is also used as that of the SAVE file's profile. As far as we know so far, the vessel's name is inconsequential. It's been hypothesized that this vessel will become relevant in later chapters, but it is unclear if and how it would actually be used.

My current thoughts as to what the creator has to do with this program... is that whoever is actually using the program is in some form of VR simulation. One that, as suggested by the cage at the end of the chapter, is meant to trap the player. I’ll get more into how it tries to do so in the next part of my hypothesis.

I haven’t forgotten about the "Chara" figure at the end of the chapter. I think this is actually a clue to the true identity of the Knight, or at least the World of Light's equivalent. Recall that the one in the Dark World is never seen, but is able to summon the Holy Fountains of Darkness. King, in his fight, has an odd hatred for Kris specifically, calling them the specific name of "Lightbringer" for the first and only time so far in the game. Picture the act of what the Knight *does*, bringing forth a fountain of shadows from the Earth. When Kris stands before that castle fountain, it erupts into light (and is presumably destroyed, but then again, we don’t actually see the aftermath of this action).

The Knight is implied to be obscenely powerful, in both conventional combat and enough to create dark fountains, enough to make King into a willing and eager servant. If we look back at UNDERTALE's genocide route, we see Flowey (who in terms of power and personality greatly resembles King) eagerly supporting "Chara" in their slaughtering of the Underground. And, by the time we have defeated Sans, we've made them into a truly unstoppable killing machine. Note how the Knight's colortext has a unique red and black gradient effect, representing their ties to the darkness while also bringing to mind the infamous red text that accompanied our player-made killer's thoughts. Thoughts laid out in simpler text rendering, but noticably brighter hue than that associated with the Knight.

Also recall the words of Seam the Shopkeeper, should you defeat Jevil. He heavily implies that Jevil is only a taste of what is to come, that later enemies will be even more powerful than that reality warping madman. In the world of UNDERTALE, what has proven more powerful than a human with high LV?

Apart from human error... not much comes to mind, honestly.

In the next part of my Game Theory(TM), I’ll be going over what I think Ralsei’s part to play in all of this really is, as well as what the CORE actually *does* to generate power for the Underground.

#deltarune #game theory #squigglydigg #because some of what she said in her stream of the game got me thinking about things from another angle #which i will get into soon #but this post is kind of goddamn long as it is

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cardboardedison · 6 years ago

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Meaningful Decisions: Benoit Turpin on Design Choices in Welcome To...

In our Meaningful Decisions series, we ask designers about the design choices they made while creating their games, and what lessons other designers can take away from those decisions.

In this edition, we talk with Benoit Turpin, the designer of Welcome To…, about roll-and-write games, randomness and control, low-interaction designs, game rhythms, and more.

Welcome To... is often grouped together with roll-and-write games despite the fact that it doesn't have any dice. Instead, the game uses a deck of cards to control the random output from which players select their actions each round. Was this core system always the same, or did it change during development?

Actually, not at all. The core system was originally dice-based. You had three custom D8 dice with a color and a number on each side. You rolled the three dice and then combined them two-by-two, numerically and chromatically. For example, you would get a 2 blue and a 3 yellow, and that would make a 5 green. So you had, in the end, three combinations with numbers ranging 1 to 16 and six different colors corresponding to the six effects. That was the system I came up with, with the express desire to make a game system as pure and elegant as can be. Three dice and nothing more; but lots of possibilities. So at its core, Welcome to... is definitely a roll-and-write.

However, during the development phase, two things came up: One, the game length was too long. Around 40 to 45 minutes a game. And a good chunk of the game was dedicated to figuring out the three combinations each turn (six mathematical operations every time). And one of our playtesters (a local store owner) felt that the game was not a dice game in the sense that the player rolling the dice had no benefit compared to the other players. He was just “the Randomizer” (a cool title but still...).

So we went on looking for a better way to randomize the results (after a brief but painful phase where I had to say goodbye to the basic principle of my game--a necessary evil and a good lesson for a new game designer like me, but ouch...). The first goal was to replicate purely the dice roll without any dice. And we tried many things, from tokens pulled out of a bag, tokens dropped on a board, and many variations of card dealing. It was not easy to replicate the breadth of possible combinations without having an insane amount of components or a very clunky interface. But when we tried the card system present in the final game, we knew we had found the solution. Having the combination created by pairing the different sides of the cards allowed both the replication of the dice randomizer to a T, and got rid of the lengthy math phase. Suddenly, the game was 15-20 minutes shorter.

And from there, new options came: altering the gaussian bell curve to better fit the flow of the game; adding the effect on the top part of the number side to give player a bit more info to make their decision; and also, quite naturally, give the players a sense of control to the randomness. So, even though this “better control of the randomness” is often hailed by reviewers as a key part of the game system, it is just a byproduct of a completely different game design issue… And from my perspective, controlling randomness is important but not always a good thing...

Are there things that designers of roll-and-write games (or flip-and-fill games, as Welcome To… has been called) can or should do to mitigate randomness and give players more predictability or control?

In a roll-and-write, randomness is structurally a factor players have to take into account. Sure, there is a wide range of randomness from Yahtzee to La Granja: No Siesta, but if there is no randomness, then it is not a roll-and-write. It becomes a very different type of game, more akin to worker placement or action selection than R&W. So mitigating randomness should not be the ultimate goal when designing a R&W. For example, in Welcome To..., players can know the distribution of the cards, and can do a bit of card counting, but we limited this control by allowing at least one reshuffle of the deck during a game. Why? Because if players had access to complete information, then AP (analysis paralysis) could set in, and the game would just be a solvable, dry math problem. And that’s no fun… (at least for me).

So “things designers can or should do to mitigate randomness” are two very different questions...

Should they do it depends on the kind of experience they want to create. For example, Avenue has more randomness than Welcome To... and it gives a very different feeling: more highs and more lows because players are less in control, so they enjoy more having a break (feeling lucky is feeling good) and whine more (or is it just me?) when the fourth golden card comes too soon. And it is not a problem at all. It makes the game more accessible thanks to the lack of mitigating mechanics. It also can make games meaner, in Qwinto most notably. In Qwinto, the design is so sparse that there is very little luck-mitigating elements. And it can feel brutal sometimes. But this feeling is also explained by the type of randomness involved in these games.

Qwinto and Welcome To... share some similarities (most notably the three lines of ascending numbers) but the type of randomness in these games are very different. Qwinto has what is called output randomness: players make a decision (roll one, two or three dice) and then the die roll gives a random result and players have to deal with it. The designer mitigated the randomness using two tactics: First, by allowing the players to choose which die to roll, he gave the players control of the bet they were making. And then, the players can reroll if the result isn’t satisfying. But as you made your decision beforehand, the stakes are very high with each roll.

In Welcome To..., there is rather input randomness: players are randomly dealt three choices beforehand, and then they decide what to do with it. This type of randomness gives the player a bigger sense of control (it’s the same one you get in euro-style games; whereas output randomness is more akin to “ameritrash”). You pretty much always have the opportunity to adjust your strategy to the random result, and you get a feeling of “building something” more coherent. But at the same time, you won’t quite get the thrill of rolling the perfect number after sticking to your bet. You do get a bit of it, bingo-style, waiting for the 10-pool you so desperately need, but the stakes are lower.

So “should” is very much a design philosophy, and many great games went opposite routes on that.

As for “can,” designers have a very large panel of options. The most frequent design strategies are allowing the players to re-roll, allowing some players (usually the passive players in R&W) to refuse using the results; and giving several options to pick from the random result: In Ganz schön clever, for example, as the active player, you get to reroll and pick from several dice.

Designers can also use modifiers, powers that allow the player to manipulate the result of the die roll (+1 to a die, turning a die on its opposite side, etc.). For cards, Welcome To... uses a system where players know the effects of the next turn, but not the numbers, so that they can form a bet, akin to the dice selection in Qwinto. In Roll to the Top!, the designer used another system where players can adjust the random factor of the die by picking a different die, from a D4 to a D20, forcing the players to choose between safety and potential high rewards, which is pretty smart.

But personally, one of the best ways to mitigate the randomness is not by controlling the die roll or card flip, but rather by giving the players decisions to make after the random result. What I mean is that if the only thing to mitigate the luck you have is to act on the die roll, you will feel pretty helpless once you used all your tricks (rerolls, modifiers, etc.) if you have only one place to put your result in. Just imagine playing Qwixx by rolling one white die and one colored die (that you chose). You would feel very dependent to the randomness. As soon as you give players options on the result (which dice to use in Qwixx, which line to write your number in Qwinto, which route you connect in Avenue), then not only do you mitigate the luck, but you give the players a feeling of control over their game. And the best games are those where this decision is crucial because whatever you do, you always give something up in the process.

There are various ways to score points in Welcome To..., which allows players to pursue a variety of strategies. At the same time, each score track is capped at a certain number, which usually forces players to diversify at least somewhat. How did you settle on this approach?

Even though all score tracks are capped in Welcome To... the way they are capped is different. The goal of this is to give the game different rhythms. Parks have a very low cap, meaning you can get a feeling of achievement during the game, giving it a rhythm of small victories after another. Pools, on the other hand, have a very high cap: You aim for the target and fail most of the time, until that one epic moment when you finally get all the stars aligned and complete all the pools. It gives a different feeling for the player. Temp workers have a very high cap as well, so that you wouldn’t focus on it but rather on the race with the others. As for the real-estate agency, the rather low cap was made to avoid creating too big of a discrepancy between players not using the real estate and players using it. It was for balance purposes only. As for the Bis, I’ll get to it later on.

The way we settled on this approach was intense playtesting, trying all strategies to balance the game while aiming for different feelings corresponding to the different strategies. And the last phase of the development--with the graphic designer--helped us also define the structure of the score tracks. We needed something simple and common to all score tracks to make it easy for the players to follow their progress. The way Anne Heidsieck implemented that with the effect always being “crossing off the topmost available box” and the result always being “the topmost non-crossed box” was amazing but not compatible with other ways we explored without any cap. So it took the whole development for us to reach this final state.

How much leeway should designers give players for certain kinds of experiences? Are there times when giving players more or less freedom to pursue one strategy single-mindedly is appropriate?

All depends on the amount of leeway a designer wants to give the players… Giving a lot of freedom to players is a great but risky approach because if you remove any incentive to “play well,” you run the risk of having players playing very poorly and blaming the game for it, or feeling very bad.

For example, in Avenue, you are free to do pretty much what you want with each card. That can lead to very wide scoring differences (from -10 to 120 in the same game at my house) which can be frustrating but also exhilarating for players scoring very high, because they feel they earned it completely.

Usually, you need some kind of control over which strategy the players will use or you risk having a flaw in your game design.

For example, in Qwixx, you cannot end a line without having five numbers crossed previously, to avoid rushing. In Avenue, you have the “-5 if you don’t score more than the previous village.” In Twenty-One, you must cross off the numbers from the left to avoid players biding their time. In Ganz schön clever, the designer used different caps for the scoring tracks to give leeway to the players. They can play purple and orange as much as they want, while the others are more constrained. But he used the foxes to balance out that leeway (to paraphrase the rugby quote, “no fox, no win”).

I don’t pretend to know all the designers’ intent, but from an outside perspective, giving a sense of freedom to the players is probably better than giving them actual freedom (but don’t put that out of gaming context... it sounds awful).

The box for Welcome To... says 1 to 100 players can play at a time, but theoretically any number of players can play at once if they all have a play sheet. This makes the game a relatively low-interaction affair. Was this always your intention?

The very first iteration of Welcome To… was much more “take that-ish” than the final game, but this high interaction brought so many problems that it got cut off progressively during playtesting. At first, players could lock out other players from certain estates, or lower the value of their estates. But that created timing issues in a simultaneous game and could not be properly scaled for a large number of players. It was also some of the most hated parts of the prototypes during playtesting.

It is very difficult to have high interaction in a roll-and-write due to its indelible nature (at least until now) and its tendency toward simultaneous play. And we felt it was not a needed feature in the game.

Not all games need high interaction between players, and there are many advantages to low (but not altogether absent) interaction. As soon as we settled on this gameplay, we tried to remove any hurdle to higher numbers of players, especially around balancing issues. For example, we made the City Plans scalable to any count by allowing all other players to score the lower value of the card. Being first still mattered, but then everyone could still play.

What can designers of low-interaction games do to make their game accessible to a wider range of player counts?

Well, should they? Sure, it is always great to put on the box “1 to 100 players” as it is a good marketing tool, but using such a scale is very rare and probably not very interesting. And games such as Ganz schön clever did not need any of that to succeed: It doesn’t scale very well, especially at four players, but no one cares because it is such an amazing one- and two-player game. Players (and publishers) tend to want everything: a 1-100 player game with high interaction, fast-paced but strategic, deep but fun, thematic but thinky... But I believe a game should fit a specific niche rather than aim at the impossible and remove what makes it unique.

That said (sorry for the rant), if designers want to make games accessible to a wider range of player counts, there are a few things they can do. First, they have to look at it from a component perspective. To have a higher count, you need to take into account the need for each player to have all that they need. Roll-and-writes are structurally pretty good at this because you can put all a player needs on the sheet, without any need for multiple copies of tokens. Other designs need to find a way to minimize component gloat.

One way is to adapt your gameplay to fit that structure: You cannot have any mechanism that requires players to grab central tokens. You cannot have a “complete race,” with every position mattering. You cannot have limited action spots for a turn. Working on the sequel to Welcome To… with the express goal of making it also 1-100 players, I felt a bit limited in my scope of mechanics when I wanted to interject some interaction. I had to rely on a few that scaled well: majority, semi-racing (first gets better, rest gets a little).

You can also stick to “non-interacting mechanics,” with which you’ll have greater freedom. In games like Qwixx or Noch mal!, all passive players can pick from the “remains” of the active players. You can also have games where everyone use the same random result: Criss Cross, Knister or Avenue, for example; the variability coming from the individual positioning. From that initial stance, then designers can go to any mechanics that don’t affect other players (route building, hand management, etc.)

But at some point you must also consider simultaneous play (or semi-simultaneous with passive players still engaged on the active player’s turn). You probably will have to turn away from turn-based, drafting mechanics because variability in game length can be a dealbreaker if you want to increase player count.

The Bis action allows players to advance more quickly toward completion of a goal card, but at a penalty. How did this action come about?

It started as an action that let players write the card number next to a previously written identical number: You have a 7/Bis card and if there is a 7 somewhere, you can place another 7 next to it. It was meant as a tool for players to soften the harshness of the draw and erase some of their missteps. But it was very random depending on your game state and not that effective. Then we switched to “you place a 7 and then you can place another 7 next to it.” But it was clunky and also too luck-based. So we went to the actual Bis action: You can place a 7, and then anywhere on the board, you can write the same number next to a previously written number.

Bear in mind that it was developed before the City Plans/goal cards. So it was useful for players to get themselves out of a tight spot and finish a housing estate. It became much more powerful with the goal cards as it was also a way to race these. So we had to come up with a penalty. And there came into play psychological balance... We first gave a fixed penalty for each Bis. And it was statistically pretty balanced. But players refused to use the Bis action, seeing it as too costly (which it wasn’t). It was left unused, except by experienced playtesters who would crush the others by rushing Bis. By switching to a more progressive penalty, we almost completely erased that psychological barrier, and people started using it way more, even though it is statistically costlier today.

Are there things you learned from developing the Bis action that would help other designers who want to allow players to take risks in pursuit of a goal?

The most important thing is to make sure there is a real risk. If the action is just an alternate way of progressing through the game at a faster pace for a cost, there is a chance that some players will be able to math out the equation and find the exact amount of Bis that should be used. In Welcome To..., you are not guaranteed that your bet will pay off. If you fail to get goal cards or finish up housing estate even though you used Bis, because other players played differently, then it was not a worthy strategy. And that is important.

Another thing, as I mentioned before, is psychological balance. If your gain-to-risk ratio is perfect but players feel that it’s too good or too hard, then you have a design problem. And it happens in great games. And you can’t math-talk your way out of it. Players’ perception always wins, even when they’re wrong. And it is hard to make sure both mathematical balance and psychological balance are fine.

Finally, this action revealed an unexpected boon: It speeds up the game by cutting 2-3 turns. And in this day and age of impatient gamers, that is pretty interesting (and it led to a fun new action in the sequel). It turned out well for us, but I think it is important to look further than your expected target when introducing a new action like that because it can lead to unexpected results, both ways.

Cardboard Edison is supported by our patrons on Patreon.

ADVISERS: Rob Greanias, Peter C. Hayward, Aaron Vanderbeek SENIOR INVENTORS: Steven Cole (Escape Velocity Games), John du Bois, Chris and Kathy Keane (The Drs. Keane), Joshua J. Mills, Marcel Perro, Behrooz Shahriari, Shoot Again Games JUNIOR INVENTORS: Ryan Abrams, Joshua Buergel, Luis Lara, Neil Roberts, Jay Treat ASSOCIATES: Dark Forest Project, Stephen B. Davies, Adrienne Ezell, Marcus Howell, Thiago Jabuonski, Doug Levandowski, Nathan Miller, Mike Sette, S GO Explore, Matt Wolfe APPRENTICES: Cardboard Fortress Games, Kiva Fecteau, Guz Forster, Scott Gottreu, Aaron Lim, Scott Martel Jr., James Meyers, The Nerd Nighters, Matthew Nguyen, Marcus Ross, Rosco Schock, VickieGames, Lock Watson, White Wizard Games

#meaningful decisions #featured #theory

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weekendwarriorblog · 4 years ago

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The Weekend Warrior Home Edition 8/14/20 – SPUTNIK, THE SILENCING, FREELAND, SPREE, THE BAY OF SILENCE

Another week, another batch of movies to get through in hopes there’s one or two worth writing about… and then writing about all of them anyway. (Sigh). I hope there are people reading this, at least. If so, go to the bottom of this column and drop me a line!

Before I get to this week’s movies, I want to give a special congratulatory shout-out to the wonderful Melanie Addington, because this is the final week of the 17th annual Oxford Film Festival. I have to say as someone who regularly covers a couple other bigger festivals, she’s done such an amazing job pivoting to the virtual world, to the point where what usually is a five-day very localized festival turned into a nationwide digital festival that’s been stretched out for 16 weeks! Those bigger festivals like SXSW and Tribeca could take a lesson from Oxford, because what usually are two highly-anticipated festivals every year became a whole lot of nothing thanks to COVID. It’s like they gave up, rolled over and just died. Oxford, meanwhile, has done Zoom QnAs with a lot of the filmmakers and casts from its films to help maintain the community feeling that makes the festival such a great destination for those in-the-know. (I haven’t even gotten into the amazing drive-in screenings or the year-round On Demand program they’ve been having over the past couple months.)

Anyway, OFF ends this week with the world-premiere of a movie that was supposed to open at SXSW, Mario Furlani and Kate McLean’s debut feature FREELAND, starring Krisha Fairchild from Trey Shults’ movie, Krisha. Freeland is a similarly strong indie r drama, this one starring Ms. Fairchild as Davi, a black market marijuana farmer in Humboldt County, Norther California, who sees her way of life changing when she’s forced to go legal after California legalizes marijuana. Instead, these changes might run her out of business. It’s a beautifully-shot (Furlani is also the cinematographer) character drama that spotlights Fairchild giving another memorable performance, surrounded by an equally excellent cast that includes Lily Gladstone from Certain Women. I hope a good distributor like IFC or Magnolia will scoop this up for release, as I think it’s an interesting look into the pot business from a unique perspective. I also think it could do VERY well at the Indie Spirits. You can watch Freeland for a couple more days (at least) with a QnA with cast and crew on Thursday night right here.

Also, check out the Eventive site for the final week line-up which includes a TON of shorts. (Be mindful, that some of the content, specifically The Offline Playlist, will only be watchable if you’re in Mississippi.)

Also starting this week on Thursday is the 5th Annual Dallas-based Women Texas Film Festival (aka WTxFF), also going virtual this year, which I don’t really know that much about, but it’s run by my friend, Justina Walford, and she generally knows her shit when it comes to movies. Its mission pledge is right there in the title, but all the movies in the festival have a woman in at least one creative role. You can check out the full list of movies playing here, although they are geoblocked to Texas unfortunately. The festival’s series of panels and QnAs, though, can be watched anywhere in the United States, and those should be good.

Let’s get to the regular releases….

This week’s “Featured Flick” is Russian filmmaker Egor Abramenko’s SPUTNIK (IFC Midnight), a sci-fi thriller taking place in 1983 after an incident the Russian spaceship Orbit-4 that leaves one of the cosmonauts in detention after the death of his commander. Oksana Akinshina (who was in The Bourne Supremacy) plays Tatyana Klimova, a psychologist sent to study the surviving cosmonaut, Konstantin Veshnyakov (Pyotr Fyodorov), and she learns that he brought back something with him from space.

I was a little worried about this movie, only because the opening reminded me so much of my experience watching the original Russian film Solaris so many years ago. Its quizzical opening in space leads to Akinshina’s character being introduced in a way that’s so slow and talkie that I worried about what I should expect from the movie as a whole. Thankfully, about 20 minutes in, we meet the creature that’s seemingly come down from space inside the cosmonaut, and it immediately changes the very nature of the film.

I don’t want to spoil too much about why the movie gets so interesting, because it’s not non-stop creature kills, although the movie does get quite exciting every time this creature emerges, particularly when it’s being fed various Russian convicts. Even so, the film always remains fairly cerebral about the creature’s origins and its relationship to the cosmonaut, who abandoned a child before his fateful space accident. Adding to the grey area about whether Tatyana should ally herself with Konstantin is her supervising officer, played by Fedor Bondarchuk, who clearly wants to use the creature as a weapon, knowing that both Konstantin and his “other” only trusts Tatyana, so they all need her.

Needless to say, the creature design is absolutely fantastic, and the comparisons this movie is going to get to Alien are quite apt, because the creature is on par with the xenomorph. I only wish I could see it better since it only comes out in the dark, and watching a movie that plays with light like this one does is just not conducive to watching on a laptop. (In fact, if you’re in a position to see Sputnik in a theater, even a drive-in, and you’re not averse to subtitles, I’d recommend going that route.)

Sputnik might fool you at first into expecting something in the vein of the original Solaris. In fact, it’s more in line with The Invisible Man, a creature feature that explores one man’s inner demons through the lens of science fiction. This probably would have been a better Venom movie than the one we actually got.

Jamie Lannister himself, Nicolaj Costar-Waldau stars in THE SILENCING (Saban Films) the English language debut of Belgian filmmaker Robin Pront (The Ardennes), a dark action-thriller set in the rural area of Echo Falls where a serial killer is hunting and killing young women and girls.

Robin Pront’s The Silencing is usually the type of movie I’d enjoy, if only I haven’t seen the exact same movie so many times before. I wasn’t sure whether it’s Costar-Waldau’s alcoholic hunter Rayburn Swanson, whose daughter disappeared years earlier, or it was cause of Annabelle Wallis, the town’s sheriff, Alice Gustafson, whose troubled brother Brooks (Hero Fiennes Tiffin) is caught up enough in the towns drug issues to act as the movie’s second-act red herring. Throw in the Native American aspect of the movie, and you’re right back at Taylor Sheridan’s Wind River, which was just a much better version of this movie all around.

Adding to the lack of originality is the fact that there are now so many television shows about serial killers, which is a shame since Pront’s previous film showed so much promise but also suffered from similar issues. Costar-Waldau gives a credible performance, maybe slightly better than Wallis, but we’ve seen this movie so many times before that even trying to throw in a twist or two goes awry since no one ever commits. The major plot twist about halfway in has an opportunity to change everything but instead, it’s negated mere minutes later.

Slow and grim, The Silencing suffers from being an overused genre that’s been done so much better before. It’s already been playing on DirecTV but will be in select theaters, On Demand and Digital this Friday.

Next up is the thriller THE BAY OF SILENCE (Vertical Entertainment), starring Claes Bang from The Square as Will, whose girlfriend and baby momma Rosalind (Olga Kurylenko) vanishes with their twin daughters and baby son, and her father Milton (Brian Cox) seems to know more than he’s telling. The film is written and produced by British actor Caroline Goodall (who has a small role in this one), adapted from Lisa St. Aubin de Teran's 1986 novel and directed by Dutch filmmaker Paula van der Oest, who has made some decent films like Black Butterflies and the Oscar-nominated Zus & Zo.

We meet Will and Ros as they’re having a romantic moment in the titular bay in Luguria, Italy, and after a few odd occurrences, Ros vanishes with her twin girls and the baby boy they had together. It doesn’t take long for Will to find her, but she seems to have gone insane, and Will needs to find out what happened.

Honestly, it’s not worth getting too deep into this movie’s plot, not so much due to spoilers, but more because there are just so many WTF moments that happen out of the blue, and then the next moment they’re forgotten. For whatever reason, the movie just doesn’t allow any of the tension or mystery to build, and even the most horrificly grim plot turn is handled so matter-of-factly.

There’s no question that van der Oest is a fine filmmaker, something you can tell from the general look of the movie, but the pacing and tons is generally all over the place as nothing happens and then a LOT happens. Bang’s decent performance is countered by a lot of overacting from Kulryenko, and while Cox plays a much bigger role in the story than you might expect, his scenes do very little to elevate the film’s plodding tone.

The Bay of Silence is a highly uneven and bland thriller that tries to offer a twist a minute with very of them ever really connecting, instead feeling grim and tedious and like a lot of wasted potential. Oddly, it feels more original than The Silencing above but just doesn’t come together even as well.

Where do I even begin with Eugene Kotlyarenko’s SPREE (RLJE Films) except that it stars Stranger Thing’s Joe Keery as Kurt Kunkle ��of Kunkle’s World,” a social media vlog where he tries to get viewer’s attention and likes. He finally decides to go on a killing spree (get it?) while picking up passengers in his car ride service Spree (see?), until he encounters a stand-up comic (Sasheer Zamata) who fights back.

Listen, I understand fine why a movie like Spree might get made, since it’s meant to be relevant to the youngsters, who are much like Kurt, totally obsessed with their own social media and getting attention. The idea of some kid becoming a serial killer just to draw more attention to himself is not exactly incredible. I found Kurt so annoying that I didn’t think I would ever be able to have any empathy for him, and I was right.

We basically watch Kurt driving around and killing various people, most of them pretty horrible, granted, but Keery comes off more like a bargain-basement Christian Bale in American Psycho. Zamata is generally the best part of the movie, which is why the last third starts to get past some of the movie’s earlier problems to become more about an actual influencer showing Kurt how it’s done. (Zamata’s “SNL” castmate Kyle Mooney can’t really do much to make their scenes together funnier, since it’s just another sleazeball hitting on her.)

David Arquette also has a few funny scenes as Kurt’s father, but what’s probably gonna throw a lot of people off and make or break the movie is that so much of it is made to look like it was filmed on a smartphone, complete with running commentary from the viewers that you’re supposed to read, and presumably enjoy? Me, I just found it annoying.

Spree is gonna be one of those love-it-or-hate-it movies depending on which side of the age gap you’re on. To me, it just seemed way too obvious and not something I could possibly recommend to anyone over 19.

Okay… Documentary time!

I really wanted to like Amanda McBaine and Jesse Moss’ BOYS STATE (A24/Apple TV+), which won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance and received Special Jury Prize at SXSW Film Festival, but it’s a pollical doc that deals with a subject that just didn’t interest me very much. It follows a thousand teen boys from Texas who come together to form a government from the ground up, and that’s the problem right there. The fact this is all about guys. I just couldn’t get interested enough to watch the whole thing since it seemed obvious how it would turn out. Boys State was supposed to open in select cities last month but instead, it will be on Apple TV+ Friday after getting a few drive-in preview screenings, cause that’s just the way things are going these days.

Willa Kammerer’s Starting at Zero: Reimagining Education in America (Saul Zaentz Charitable Foundation/Abramorama), which will open in Virtual Cinema Friday after a Virtual Premiere tonight. It seems very timely, as it deals with investing in high-quality early child education. Just as timely is Muta’Ali Muhammad’s Yusuf Hawkins: Storm Over Brooklyn (HBO Documentary Films), which premieres on HBO tonight, looking at the events around the 1989 murder of teenager Yusuf Hawkins by a group of white men in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Erik Nelson’s doc Apocalypse ’45 (Discovery/Abramorama), which will be in theaters this Friday and on Discovery over Labor Day weekend, is about the end of World War II, using never-before-seen footage with narration by 24 men who were there for it.

Quiver Distribution has two movies out this Friday, both which could probably be seen as young adult movies – not really a genre I like very much, so your mileage may vary?

ENDLESS from director Scott Speer (Midnight Sun) is a romantic drama starring Alexandra Shipp (X-Men: Apocalypse) as graphic novelist Riley, whose boyfriend, Nick Hamilton’s Chris gets stranded in limbo after he’s killed in a car crash. Taking the blame for his death on herself, Riley struggles to find ways to reconnect with Chris in the afterlife.

I wasn’t sure if this movie would be for me, since I’m not a very big fan of young adult movies generally. So many of them have hard-to-believe high-concept premises involving two lovelorn teens – Midnight Sun being a good example. Unlike so many of these movies, Endless isn’t based on a popular book, and I was a little worried about Speer’s skills as a director and whether he could avoid turning this into a very obvious teen version of Ghost. There’s a little bit of that but on a whole, the movie isn’t a complete waste of time. For instance, Shipp is decent in this sort of dramatic role, probably better than Hamilton, and it avoids getting too weepy thanks to DeRon Horton’s animated Jordan, who befriends Chris in limbo and quickly becomes the movie’s frequent saving grace.

Otherwise, the movie feels like any other soppy teen romantic drama, being very predicable with way too much overacting, particularly from Fammke Janssen as Chris’ Mom. Even though the relationship between Shipp and Hamilton works fine, unless you’re on board with the whole concept of the latter spending the entire film as a spirit, you’re going to have a hard time fully enjoying the movie.

In Bobby Roth’s PEARL, Larsen Thompson plays the title character, a 15-year-old piano prodigy whose mother Helen (Sarah Carter from The Flash) is murdered by her stepfather (Nestor Carbonell). She’s sent to live with Jack Wolf (Anthony LaPaglia), an unemployed film director, who used to be one of her mother’s ex-lovers, who also might be Pearl’s father. I know! Let’s spend an entire movie going back and forth trying to figure it out, okay?

I don’t have a ton to say about this movie, but if for some reason, you want to watch it just cause you’re a fan of Carter from The Flash, you should know that she appears in the movie via a series of black and white flashbacks to show her relationship with Jack, but those might be the best part of a very bad movie.

Thompson just isn’t a very solid actor to carry this, and Roth must have pulled a lot of favors to get this movie made ‘cause it wasn’t financed based on the script. Her relationship with LaPaglia just seems kinda creepy. Things just gets worse and worse, especially when Pearl goes to school and the other girls act like they’re in prison. There’s also Barbara Williams as Pearl’s alcoholic grandmother – the fun just never begins, does it?

At its worst, Pearl comes across like a Lifetime movie – not the first time I’ve used this statement this year and probably not the last. It’s just very dull and not a very good movie; LaPaglia is way too good an actor who deserves better than this.

Also on VOD this week is Kevin Tran’s Dark End of the Street (Gravitas Ventures), an indie horror movie involving a community in the suburbs plagued by someone who is killing the residents’ pets. This wasn’t a terrible movie but I had a hard time getting past the general premise about killing pets, so it was hard to get into what Tran tried to do in terms of putting a twist on a tried-and-true horror genre. Maybe I’ll give this another try after finishing this column.

Also, Ben Galland’s action-comedy Gripped: Climbing the Killer Pillar (1091) follows Rose (Megan Kesley), a L.A. gym climber who falls for rugged outdoorsman Bret (Kaiwi Lyman) as they embark on a trip to climb the “Killer Pillar” in California’s Sierra Nevada mountains, only to get caught on a cliff edge.

The Metrograph’s Live Screening Series is continuing with a great line-up over the rest of August with the Satoshi Kon Retrospective continuing with Millennium Actress playing until midnight tonight, plus Masaaki Yuasa & Koji Morimoto’s popular 2004 film Mind Game starting Wednesday night at 8pm. Claire Denis’ Trouble Every Day (2001) will screen on Friday at 8pm, and then Monday, Jenna Bliss’ animated The People’s Detox (2018) will join the screening library. To become a digital member, it’s only $5 a month or $50 for a year, which is a great deal for the amount of movies you see.

Film at Lincoln Center’s Virtual Cinema will stream Paulo Rocha’s 1963 film Change of Life starting Friday while Film Forum will stream Weiner Holzemer’s doc Martin Margiella: In His Own Words about the fashion designer, as well as Bert Stern’s Jazz on a Summer’s Day which is a 1959 documentary about the fashion photographer filming the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival with the likes of Louis Armstrong, Hoagy Carmichael, Mahalia Jackson, Thelonious Monk and many more.

Apparently, Netflix has a new movie out on Friday called Project Power, starring Jamie Foxx and Joseph Gordon-Levitt, but I received ABSOLUTELY NADA about it from Netflix, so this is all you get. Watch out, Netflix, there are a lot of streaming options out there now!

Speaking of drive-ins (which I was WAY up there), on Wednesday, you can catch the latest in Amazon Studios “A Night at the Drive In” series. “Movies to Make You Open Your Eyes,” which will screen Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing and Jordan Peele’s Get Out.

Next week, more movies not in theaters!

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest!

#TheWeekendWarrior #Movies #Reviews #OxfordFilmFestival #Sputnik #Spree #vodun #TheSilencing #TheBayOfSilence #BoysState #Pearl #Endless

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thosedamnliberals · 5 years ago

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MANCHESTER, N.H. —

Bernie Sanders held a small lead over Pete Buttigieg in New Hampshire on Tuesday night with an unexpectedly strong Amy Klobuchar in third place, as the nation’s first presidential primary shook up the Democratic contest by dimming the hopes of two candidates and ending the race for two others.

Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren and former Vice President Joe Biden were in single digits in fourth and fifth place, respectively, a weak showing that imperiled both their campaigns. Each vowed to fight on.

Well before half the votes were counted, businessman Andrew Yang and Colorado Sen. Michael Bennet announced they were dropping out. Both had negligible support.

New Hampshire has a history of political volatility, with an abundance of late-deciders, and the results Tuesday night held true to form, with nearly half the voters saying they made up their minds in just the last few days.

Klobuchar, an afterthought for much of the contest despite a number of well-received debate performances — including one, importantly, Friday night — appeared to be the biggest beneficiary

Vermont Sen. Sanders, who won an overwhelming victory here four years ago, was the favorite to prevail once more. But he did not run away with the contest, the second in a row, after last week’s Iowa caucuses, in which he failed to meet the high expectations generated by big crowds and his enormous fundraising success.

In fact, the votes received by former South Bend. Ind., Mayor Buttigieg and Minnesota Sen. Klobuchar, two relative moderates, far exceeded the number received by Sanders, the favorite of the party’s progressive wing.

Still, unless one candidate consolidates that vote, it will be difficult for either to pull ahead — and former New York Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg could further fracture the centrist wing as the contest moves into states where he is spending heavily.

Buttigieg, who had appeared to plateau just a few weeks ago, benefited from a burst of momentum after finishing in a virtual tie with Sanders in last week’s Iowa caucuses and was the favorite of voters who said beating President Trump was their top priority.

The biggest surprise, however, was the performance of Klobuchar. Nearly a third of voters said last week’s debate was an important factor in their decision, and nearly 20% called it the most important factor, according to exit polling. Moreover, fully two-thirds of her supporters said they had made up their minds in just the last few days.

“My heart is full tonight,” Klobuchar told exuberant supporters in Concord. “While there are still ballots to count, we have beaten the odds every step of the way.”

One of the many late-deciding voters was Marilyn Swick, 72, who did not make up her mind until the moment she walked into her polling place in a bustling community center in the Boston suburb of Hudson.

“It was between Amy and Pete,” said the retiree, a political independent. “She was a woman. I just decided that out of the two, she might be better nationwide.”

After Iowa’s caucus meltdown, New Hampshire’s vote was elevated in import as the presidential race now hurtles into Nevada and South Carolina, followed by a blitz of coast-to-coast balloting on March 3 — Super Tuesday — which includes California.

Victory, or least a strong showing, promised to yield a burst of momentum and, more concretely, a lift in polls, an infusion of cash and a first or second look from the many voters just starting to pay close attention to the race.

After more than a year of campaigning, eight rounds of debates and too much punditry and speculation to quantify, the results promised to offer at least some definition to the Democratic contest going forward.

The candidates with arguably the most at stake were Warren and Biden, who finished a disappointing third and fourth, respectively, in Iowa.

The former vice president has largely rested his campaign on the notion he is the candidate best able to beat President Trump in November, based on his experience and relative centrism, but the argument was undercut by his weak Iowa showing.

Anticipating a similar setback in New Hampshire, he preemptively declared himself out of the running — “I’m probably going to take a hit here,” he said at Friday’s debate — and didn’t bother waiting for results. He flew to South Carolina, a state with a large black population that Biden hopes will resuscitate his campaign with its primary on Feb. 29.

“It ain’t over, man,” he told supporters in Columbia, the state capital. “We’re just getting started.”

Warren, who had hoped to elbow past Sanders in Iowa and establish herself as the candidate of the party’s progressive wing, instead scrambled to avoid an embarrassing setback in her political backyard.

She told supporters Tuesday night in Manchester she had no plans to exit the race, saying she expected the fight for the nomination to be a prolonged one. “The question for us, Democrats, is whether it will be a long, bitter rehash of the same old divides in our party, or whether we can find another way,” Warren said, pitching herself as a unity candidate.

Her next stop is Virginia, one of the Super Tuesday states.

Sanders was looking ahead as well, with stops planned later this week in the Super Tuesday states of North Carolina and Texas.

Unlike the Iowa caucuses, which are held at a set time, the New Hampshire primary was an all-day affair. Polls opened as early as 6 a.m., depending on location, and close at either 7 or 8 p.m. depending on location. (Keeping alive their tradition, a few remote hamlets stole a march on the rest of the state by voting at midnight.)

Nonpartisan voters, the largest voting bloc in New Hampshire at more than 40% of the electorate, were allowed to take part in the Democratic primary, giving the balloting a more moderate cast than Iowa, which limited participation to the party faithful.

Nearly 4 in 10 New Hampshire voters described themselves as moderate, a notable increase from four years ago, and the electorate also had a distinctly pragmatic streak: More than 6 in 10 said electability — the perception a candidate could beat Trump — was more important in deciding their vote than agreeing with a candidate on issues.

Buttigieg won more than a quarter of those voters and Klobuchar more than 2 in 10. By contrast, Sanders won handily among those who said they preferred a candidate who held the same positions on the issues.

Republicans were also voting in their primary Tuesday, with Trump expected to win handily en route to his virtually uncontested nomination for a second term.

Brian Burke, a Republican from Bedford, briefly considered crossing party lines — which is allowed under same-day registration — before casting his ballot for Trump.

“I was going to vote for a Democrat because it seems like a more important race at this point,” said Burke, 51, who works in finance. “But I am a Republican and I do like everything Donald Trump has actually done for us.”

Looming large as the Democratic campaign leaves the confines of Iowa and New Hampshire is Bloomberg, who has already spent more than $200 million on television advertising.

Bloomberg has essentially ignored Iowa, New Hampshire and the other two early voting states, focusing instead on Super Tuesday and the contests beyond. It is a strategy that many other presidential contestants have attempted, only to fall well short of the nomination.

None, however, had the financial resources of the media magnate, who has an estimated net worth of more than $60 billion and has shown no hesitation about spending a good deal of it in his pursuit of the White House.

Times staff writers Evan Halper, Janet Hook and Melanie Mason and special correspondents Caroline S. Engelmayer in New Hampshire and Arit John in Los Angeles contributed to this report.

#campaign 2020 #New Hampshire #new hampshire primary #Bloomberg 2020 #Warren 2020 #Biden 2020 #Buttigieg 2020 #Sanders 2020

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numberplates4u-blog · 5 years ago

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Volvo XC40 review – surprisingly capable compact SUV

For Surprisingly nimble handling, neat design, comfort Against Lifeless steering, bland engines The XC40 is actually a decent steer, chassis delivers good blend of agility and comfort, while petrol engines are punchy if characterless Like it or not, the SUV and crossover are a big part of the motoring landscape these days, so it’s no surprise Volvo is cashing in with its compact XC40. Slotting in beneath the vast XC90 seven-seater and BMW X3-rivalling XC60, the XC40 has cars such as the BMW X2, Audi Q3 and Mercedes GLA firmly in its sights. Intended as a more engaging and sporty addition to the line-up, the Volvo promises to be the sort of car that can slip into the everyday grind while adding a bit of spice when the situation demands. It’s an ambitious claim for a machine that effectively follows the template of a high-riding and heavyweight off-roader, but in reality the XC40 comes very close to nailing its brief – few crossovers are as accomplished on the road. There’s a wide range of petrol and diesel engines to choose from, including Volvo’s recently launched three-cylinder units. Pick of the bunch for performance is the T5, which is the most powerful version of the turbocharged 2-litre four-cylinder that also serves in the T4. The diesels are frugal and refined enough, but in a car of this size the appeal of petrol is harder to ignore. > Click here for our review of the Audi RS Q3 Of more interest is the chassis, which does a fine job of treading the line between agility and everyday comfort. The light steering is nothing to write home about and there’s noticeable roll, but it responds quickly and is more poised than you’d expect, plus it rides deftly when all you want to do is cruise. Then factor in the car’s handsome lines and an interior that’s a cut above the Germans for style and pretty much matches them for execution. It’s fairly roomy and practical, as well, helping make the XC40 a decent option for those forced down the SUV route. Image 2 of 15 Image 2 of 15 Volvo XC40: in detail Performance and 0-60mph time > The flagship T5 is the choice for performance, delivering decent urge and a sub-seven-second sprint to 60mph. Engine and gearbox > Volvo’s range of modular engines is fairly straightforward, with a choice of 2-litre petrol and diesels, plus a 1.5-litre petrol-only triple. Two or four-wheel drive is available with either six-speed manual or eight-speed auto. Ride and handling > given its SUV remit, the XC40 steers with surprising alacrity and poise, yet this agility doesn’t come at the expense of comfort. MPG and running costs > All the diesels will crack a claimed 50mpg, but you’ll need to do the miles to offset near-40mpg of the thirstiest petrol. Residuals are rock solid. Interior and tech > Volvo is on a roll here, with the XC40 getting a bright and slickly designed cabin that’s packed with kit. Design > As bluff-fronted off-roaders go, the compact and neatly proportioned XC40 is one of the most visually appealing. Image 3 of 15 Image 3 of 15 Price, specs and rivals Entry point to the XC40 is £27,610, which buys you the entry-level two-wheel-drive T3 Momentum model with a manual gearbox. At the other end of the scale is the £37,620 (deep breath) T5 AWD Automatic Inscription Pro. However, be aware that indiscriminate plundering of the options list can see the price of these flagship models swell to an eye-watering £50,000 in a matter of a few ticks. Yikes! Still, given the list of standard kit there shouldn’t be too much need to add extras as even basic Momentum models get all the kit you’re likely to need, including climate control, satnav, a nine-inch portrait-style infotainment screen, LED headlamps and more driver aids than you can shake a EuroNCAP five-star-rated stick at. R-Design models add some sporty styling cues, a ‘sports’ chassis, part-leather trim and configurable ambient lighting for the cabin among other things, while the Inscription brings full-leather trim and a whole host of extra convenience features, such as powered seats. All trim levels can be enhanced with the addition of the £1550 Pro pack that bundles together desirable extras such as heated seats and windscreen, adaptive LED lights, powerfold mirrors and powered seats. > Click here for more into on the all-new Q3 In terms of price, purpose and perceived prestige appeal the challengingly styled BMW X2 is arguably the Volvo’s closest rival. Prices start a little higher at £31,490, but there’s a similar choice of petrol and diesel engines, plus two or four-wheel-drive options. Strangely, a manual gearbox is only available with the entry-level 18d diesel variant, with all other versions getting a six-speed auto. The less said about the fact the two-wheel sDrive versions send their power to the front wheels the better. Another option is the Audi Q3, which is getting on a bit now and not far from replacement with the recently revealed all-new model, although that does mean there are likely deals to be done. Prices start at £27,915 and rise to £38.215. It’s been around for six years now, but the Q3 still feels relatively composed on the road, a firm ride the trade-off for reasonably precise handling. It’s inside that the car suffers, because while the interior is well built from quality materials it feels a generation or two behind recent Audi products in terms of technology and packaging. The engine line-up is limited to a pair of TFSI petrols (a 148bhp 1.4-litre and 177bhp 2-litre), plus a 2-litre TDI with either 148bhp or 181bhp. Sadly, the turbocharged 2.5-litre five-cylinder RSQ3 was dropped from the range a while ago. Image 4 of 15 Image 4 of 15 Apart from the range-topping T5, the performance potential of the XC40 is best described as adequate. Slowest of the bunch is the 148bhp D3 AWD, which comes as standard with an auto gearbox and will need 10.4sec to go from standstill to 60mph. Sticking with front-wheel drive chops two-tenths off this time, while the six-speed manual will just dip under 10.0sec. Swiftest of the diesels is the D4, which is four-wheel drive and eight-speed auto only. The dash from 0-62mph takes a claimed 7.9sec, while the top speed is a heady 130mph. That said, all feel reasonably brisk on the road thanks to thumping mid-range torque (236lb ft for the D3 and 295lb ft for the D4) delivered at just 1750rpm. Of the petrols, the manual-only T3 is the tardiest performer, not surprising when you consider the 1.5-litre triple has just 156bhp to haul around the best part of 1500kg. That said, a 0-62mph in 9.4sec is lively enough, although some way short of the 8.5sec time set by the 187bhp T4, which is AWD and auto only. The same is true of the range-topping 244bhp T5 that manages to slice the 0-62mph dash to 6.5sec and tops out at 140mph. Image 6 of 15 Image 6 of 15 Volvo has ditched a complicated line-up of bespoke engines in favour of a BMW-style modular approach, spinning three and four-cylinder petrols and diesels off the same basic block. The entry-level three-cylinder is a pleasant enough unit, spinning sweetly and relishing hard work. It’s mated to a six-speed manual that’s precise enough, if a little notchy in operation. All the diesels are essentially the same 2-litre capacity with varying power and torque outputs. They’re reasonably refined, thanks in part to decent sound insulation, and pull strongly in the mid-ranges, making them a strong companion for the eight-speed auto, which shifts up early to make maximum use of the engine’s twist. So effective are these units at low to medium revs that there’s no real point in working them hard, not least because the four-cylinder becomes strained. Image 5 of 15 Image 5 of 15 In many respects, the torquey four-cylinder petrols behave much like the diesels, preferring to do their work in the mid-ranges rather than chasing the red line. The T4 is a respectable performer, while the T5 can set a pace that’s close to that of a warm hatch, even if its drones a bit and doesn’t really relish hard work. Perhaps the biggest disappointment is that with a T5 badge on the boot you expect the warbling, syncopated war cry made famous by that angular hotshoe the 850, but instead are treated to an anodyne, generic four-pot backbeat. Of the gearbox choices the smooth eight-speed auto is probably best suited to the XC40, shifting slickly in auto mode and responding promptly if a little jerkily when using the manual mode. While the engines just about pass muster, the rest of the XC40’s dynamic repertoire is rather more impressive. Volvo aimed to give its compact crossover a more engaging nature than most, albeit not at the expense of comfort and refinement. Overall, it’s job done, the XC40 keeping you entertained enough for what is essentially a family hack. The steering is quick and it’s connected to a front axle that bites harder than you expect, while the rear end is keen to get in on the action, delivering the lovely sensation of the car pivoting around your hips. It’s surprisingly agile for such a high-riding machine and you can cover ground at a surprising lick – some hot hatches will be humbled. Of course there’s some roll and big undulations result in a little float as the suspension struggles to contain the masses, but the optional £795 adaptive dampers do a decent job of keeping the body in check most of the time, and we’d recommend making this option one you should tick without hesitation. The rest of the time the XC40 is a relaxed and relaxing way to get about, the supple ride and strong refinement taking the sting out of daily duties. Factor in those hugely supportive seats and there are few cars more comfortable for the long-haul trips. Image 7 of 15 Image 7 of 15 If you’re looking purely at the numbers then the diesel versions look to be the most cost-effective to run. Regardless of power output or transmission they all claim to return in excess of 50mpg on the combined cycle, while low CO2 emissions make them a relatively attractive choice as a company car. And yet the emissions aren’t that much lower than the petrols, which even in T5 guise return nearly 40mpg (the manual T3 on the smallest 18-inch alloys promises to crack 45mpg). As a result, there’s not much incentive to go diesel, unless of course you crack the 20-odd thousand mile annual threshold where the extra cost of buying a diesel and its pricier fuel are offset by its greater efficiency. You certainly won’t make any savings on road fund licence, with all cars costing the same to tax regardless of engine. On the plus side, the XC40’s early popularity with buyers mean’ that residuals are strong and should remain so for the next few years. Servicing costs are also reasonable, with Volvo offering various pre-paid options and long-life intervals. Image 10 of 15 Image 10 of 15 This is the area where Volvo has come on leaps and bounds in the last few years – and the XC40 is the latest example of its design confidence. Taking a typically Swedish minimalist approach, the cabin of the Volvo is refreshingly clean and modern in its design, with plenty of light wood and leather finishes helping to give a bright and airy feel. This is backed up by the actual space available, with decent legroom for those in the back and a useful 460-litre boot, which places it somewhere between mainstream family hatches such as the Golf and more spacious models like the Skoda Superb. The dashboard is logically laid out and is dominated by the 9-inch tablet-style infotainment screen housed in the centre console. Featuring intuitive swipe and pinch functionality it controls all of the car’s major systems, from hi-fi and satnav to the numerous electronic safety aids. Speaking of which… As you’d expect from Volvo, the XC40 is crammed full of the latest cutting-edge kit, such as adaptive cruise control, autonomous emergency braking, lane departure warning and lane keep assist. There’s also the run-off-road systems that sense you’re about to leave the road and prime the car by pulling the seatbelts tight and closing any windows and the sunroof. On top of this little lot is the Pilot assist (£1625 or £1500 depending on model), which can brake, accelerate and steer the car at speeds of up to 80mph – although you still have to keep your hands on the wheel at all times. Image 4 of 15 Image 4 of 15 Bluff-fronted SUVs are probably not your thing, but as far as these things go the Volvo is a fairly handsome effort. Short front and rear overhangs give it a purposeful stance, while a kick in the C-pillar adds some extra interest. Integrated silver roof rails and mock skid plates front and rear give off all the right ‘lifestyle’ messages, but in all honesty the furthest an XC40 will ever travel off-road is when the driver nudges it onto the pavement when parked up on the school run. Momentum models get 18-inch alloys as standard, while 19-, 20- and 21-inch rims can be added at extra cost. For the most aggressive look you need to opt for the R-Design model that gets a subtle bodykit and some interior enhancements, such as metal-finished pedals. Visual upgrades are limited to those larger wheels and a choice of contrasting roof colours – although the palette is limited to black or white, with the former looking a little gaudy. In fairness, the handsome and neatly detailed XC40 doesn’t really need these gimmicks, being better suited to darker colours that help disguise its bulk a little. Image 15 of 15 Image 15 of 15 4 Oct 2018

https://www.evo.co.uk/volvo/xc40

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privateplates4u · 5 years ago

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Volvo XC40 review – surprisingly capable compact SUV

https://www.evo.co.uk/volvo/xc40

#Cars

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