#note: “low streamed” is a RELATIVE phrase

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

#note: low-streamed ts songs still have crazy streaming numbers #note: “low streamed” is a RELATIVE phrase #e.g. The Lakes is the lowest streamed track on Folklore but it still has +100m streams #taylor swift #taylorswift #ts #speak now #speak now tv #sntv #the eras tour #taylor swift poll #swiftie polls #fearless #reputation #lover #midnights #evermore #red tv #debut #taylor swift 1989 #1989 taylor's version #fandom polls #polls #tumblr polls #taylor #taylor swift eras #swiftie #taylors version

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 2 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

Present day

Miruko’s agency was large, much larger than you had expected.

From the street, it had looked unobtrusive enough, a moderately-sized office building with a modern-looking glass front. You could see into a large reception area on the ground floor, and open workspaces on the next few floors, conjoined desks piled high with paperwork and slightly wilted-looking office plants. If not for Miruko’s name emblazoned over the entry in bold, metallic letters, you could have taken it for just another office building.

Once inside, however, the building became much more than that. After checking in at reception, you were led deep into the building, and gestured into an elevator that took you tens of floors down. When the doors opened, they let out into a cavernous space, stretching under what must have been the entire block. The floor was equipped with a gym, several reinforced training spaces the size of office buildings themselves, and what appeared to be a surveillance room where footage from the training spaces could be replayed.

Your mouth dropped open. Did all hero agencies hide deep underground like this? How many other underground floors were there? How big was Miruko Agency, really?

Your guide had enough tact to ignore your inelegant expression, instead leading you towards a training room. A huge, clear window tens of meters across looked into the space, but you would bet anything that it was made of some material much stronger than glass, which was especially evidenced by what you could see going on beyond the window.

Rubble littered the room, scattered in towering piles that gave the appearance of a post-doomsday cityscape. You didn’t know if the room had been set up this way, or if the rubble was the result of the battle going on within; there were two heroes that you could see darting around the space, both appearing to be causing maximum chaos.

Closest to you, a woman with wild pink curls was emitting a powerful stream of some cement-colored substance that ate away at anything it touched, causing it to smoke and hiss and crumble. She melted a huge hole in a pile of rubble, and a man with a shock of golden-yellow hair leapt away from what had probably been his hiding place, backpedaling wildly.

You perked up when you realized who they were--Ashido Mina, the number twenty-nine hero Pinky, and Kaminari Denki, the number thirty-three hero Chargebolt.

Kaminari threw out a hand, and a crackling wave of lightning struck out at Ashido. The lights flickered out briefly, and even behind the window, you could feel your hair stand on end. You blinked past the powerful flash that had temporarily blinded you, casting about for Ashido who had surely been struck down, only to choke on a laugh when you caught sight of her flashing Kaminari the middle finger, sliding away from a huge chunk of rubble she’d dislodged with her acid to use as a shield.

“They’re idiots,” a voice intoned from your side.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, turning to find Miruko herself standing next to you, powerful arms crossed over her chest. Despite her words, a little fond-looking smile flickered at the edges of her mouth.

You schooled your slack jawed expression into a smile. “I don’t know--their personalities are mostly why they’re so popular, so they must be doing something right. I did a little digging into everyone’s results before I got here, and they stood out among a lot of the rest.”

Miruko’s gaze flicked over you. She was short, maybe even shorter than you, but her keen red eyes and very lethal-looking biceps more than made up for her stature. She was intimidating in person, an air about her that told you she could snap and turn on you at any second. Despite the fact that she had asked you here herself, you felt like she might seize you and bodily throw you out of her agency.

“And that’s why they’re idiots. Their results are buoyed by their personalities,” Miruko sniffed. “They need work.”

You prickled a little, feeling like you should say something in their defense, but the truth of it was, you were here to help them work on things.

Some weeks ago, Miruko had contacted the Public Safety Hero Commission with interest in the ranking model. Your version had been in production for close to a year, and you had recently been making scholarly noises about feedback loops, asking for permission to provide pro heroes with individual results breakdowns. Miruko had caught wind of this and demanded on site assessments for her “team of frigging clowns” as she had so eloquently put it. And so you had been loaned out, with the idea of helping to direct the training for the heroes at Miruko Agency, providing them a real time comparison of their training footage to the generic hero ranking model results.

If this trial run was successful, if you could help any of the heroes measurably jump ranks, then the Commission had committed to providing individualized results for the thousands of heroes employed today. The Commission had also expressed interest in your idea of creating and packaging smaller models that took less technical skill to operate, for heroes to use to direct their own training. They had even seemed receptive to giving you a small team of research scientists and software engineers to build such a product, so you would be looking at a pretty sick promotion, not to mention.

Miruko made her way over to the surveillance room, beckoning you after her, and you watched as she leaned over a desk, pressing down a button with one gloved finger.

A crackling sound echoed overhead and her voice followed. “Alright, brats, recess is over. Anyone not heading out on patrol, meet in the surveillance room now.”

The flickering light from Kaminari’s lightning fizzled out, and the door to the training room opened not long after, Kaminari and Ashido spilling out in a chaotic whirlwind of limbs and petty squabbling. They were the first to arrive at the surveillance room, and Kaminari visibility perked up when he saw you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself on a gasp when Ashido’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “What the fuck, Mina--! Why are your elbows so sharp? Can you just not--?” He grabbed her elbow. “Stop, look, it’s stats girl! From the Awards!”

You startled a little, shocked that he had remembered you. That had been almost a year ago, and you’d only exchanged a couple quick comments in the stairwell.

Ashido looked up from where she appeared to be attempting to crack one of his ribs, her expression shifting into something altogether too interested. You flushed when a sharp grin broke out over her pretty features.

“Oh my god, you’re stats girl? I have been waiting forever. It’s an absolute honor to meet you.” She held out a palm, waggling her rosy fingers expectantly.

A rising sense of horror grew within you. Did...did Kaminari remember you so clearly because he’d told people about the incident? What exactly had he mentioned to her? Who else had he spread the tale to?

“Um, yeah that’s me,” you managed, trying to tamp down your embarrassment.

Ashido grinned wider, leaning forward. “I was totally convinced Denki and Eijirou made you up, except that Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. You’re, like, a legend. Do you do autographs?”

You gaped at her, your mind sticking on the phrase Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. A nervous, hunted energy crept over you. Revenge...for months.

Miruko’s rabbit ears twitched and she turned to you, frowning. “I wasn’t aware you’d already met some of my circus monkeys. Is this going to be a problem?”

You dithered nervously, not actually sure if it would be. You’d known Bakugou worked at her agency, considering you had done a fair amount of pre-work collecting everyone's results. But you’d honestly put off thinking about this. Bakugou had been in quite the rage at the Hero Awards, but that had been almost a year ago. And Ashido had phrased his revenge plans in the past tense… Surely he didn’t still hold as much of a grudge now?

Miruko eyed you suspiciously for a moment, but she was distracted when the scuffle of boots indicated the approach of other heroes, and a pair of burly men with curling satyr horns rounded the corner, one of them leaning forward to speak to her. Ashido sent you a wink when Miruko turned her back, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like later.

In the next few minutes, a small group of heroes assembled, ranging from relatively well-known heroes like Ashido and Kaminari, to a couple of heroes who ranked deep in the hundreds--you only knew some of their faces because Miruko had provided you with a list of her employees for preparatory research purposes. They formed a small crescent around the surveillance area, chattering lowly to themselves and eyeing you with speculative curiosity.

To your eternal relief, her most famously explosive employee was conspicuously absent, and you felt yourself relax when it seemed like everyone had turned up who was going to.

When it seemed like the crowd size was finally large enough to please her, Miruko barked a loud “SHUT UP” at them. The din of low voices instantly died down.

“Alright brats. Over the next few months, Y/N will be working here at the agency with us. She has been invited on behalf of the commission, and will be analyzing your quirks, your methods, and your recent work,” Miruko said. “She has individualized results pulled from the current hero rankings that can inform you how to improve. I expect you to take full advantage of this opportunity.”

She gestured to you, giving you a meaningful look as if she expected you to introduce yourself. You gave a little wave, glancing at the heroes around you.

“Um, hi,” you said. “As Miruko-san said, I can give you a little advice based on your current results breakdown. I also plan to analyze video of your training in the coming weeks, and build parallel models to simulate future results given your performance. We can compare those to the current rankings for an idea of how much work you will have to put into particular skills for you to move up in the ranks.”

A small murmur went through the crowd at the prospect of moving up in the ranks. Some gazes sharpened in interest.

You continued, “This is also a good chance to work on specific growth areas -- I can train smaller models on subsets of videos so you can compare your skills more directly with each other or with other heroes from other agencies. Please let me know if there is anything special any of you would like to focus on.”

Miruko stepped back in front of you. “Y/N is going to set up in the surveillance room for the next few weeks. I’ve already established checkpoints for all of you to meet with her, but I encourage you to meet with her more often if you can.”

There were a couple of nods, and a few interested whispers from somewhere at the back of the crowd. Miruko took a breath like she was going to say more, but then--

“Hard pass,” a voice growled from your left. Your hackles instantly raised, and it took your brain a couple seconds to catch up with your instincts. You whipped around wildly when you realized you knew that voice, and you almost jumped a full foot in the air when you caught sight of those familiar blonde spikes over another hero’s shoulder.

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but Bakugou had clearly returned from a fight only minutes ago. His hair drooped a little with sweat, there was dirt streaking the points of his high cheekbones, and his costume was shredded by a thousand tiny tears, like he’d been thrown through a glass window. And...was that blood on his gauntlets? Was it his?

You were torn between immediate annoyance and something like concern at the sight of him so obviously roughed up.

“The meetings are not optional,” Miruko’s voice took on a hard edge.

“I already know what this fucking nerd has to say,” Bakugou drawled dismissively. “And I don’t give a shit. I don’t need assists if I’m the one busy saving the fucking day.”

Your mood edged cleanly into annoyance. It seemed he hadn’t changed any, then.

Miruko’s face darkened. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Bakugou bared his teeth. They gleamed almost blindingly white against the dark dirt on his face. “No.”

A wild look entered Miruko’s eye at the challenge. “Everyone is dismissed. Except Katsuki,” she uttered in a low, dangerous tone.

There was a small pause. The heroes around you looked at her askance, and her features darkened even further. “I said scram. NOW!”

The effect was immediate. It felt like no sooner had you blinked than the hall was suddenly clear. The sight of Kaminari and Ashido wheeling around the corner was all the proof you had that the team hadn’t suddenly vanished from existence.

Bakugou snorted and propped himself lazily against a column, affecting a slouch, one pale eyebrow raised over his insouciant expression. It looked almost too perfectly arrogant, and you wondered if he practiced it in the mirror sometimes.

“I said the meetings are not optional, Katsuki,” Miruko hissed, taking a step closer to him. “You can ignore her suggestions all you want, but you will attend them.”

Close as they were, you could see she was almost a full head shorter than him, but the force of her anger seemed to make her larger somehow--she wasn’t towering over him, but she was certainly terrifying. Towering under, your mind supplied unhelpfully.

Bakugou, for his part, held his ground. His mouth curled disdainfully. “What’s the fucking point? The nerd’s just gonna tell me stupid shit. And I’m not going to listen.”

Your fingers twitched in irritation. Data wasn’t stupid shit -- it was mathmatical fact, almost as divorced from human bias as it was possible to be. How was it humanly possible that he hadn’t learned anything or grown even the littlest bit? How was it possible that he was just as infuriating as he was a year ago?

But fine. He could have things his way if that’s what he wanted.

Miruko’s face twisted in a scowl, and she took a deep breath like she was ready to start yelling. But you got there first.

“He has a point,” you said, giving him a hard look over the top of Miruko’s head. “I would hate to waste my time on someone who’s been stalled in the rankings for a year now. He wouldn’t know how to implement my advice even if I were to give it.”

You paused, letting an uncharacteristic smirk curl your mouth, trying your best to channel his disdainful energy. “Isn’t that right, Number Eight?”

Bakugou’s gaze sharpened over Miruko’s silver hair, twin pinpricks of red narrowing in on you. He abandoned his slouch, his body tensing like a hound that smelled blood. “What did you just say?”

You pushed down the petty satisfaction that rose within you at his reaction. He was so fucking prideful, so easy to bait.

“Hmm, cognitive delays,” you said, pretending to tap your chin thoughtfully. “Very worrying. Further evidence he wouldn’t be able to process the information, though. No, I think it’s best if we don’t meet.”

Bakugou pushed himself off the column, edging around Miruko as his mouth drew into a snarl. You were immediately reminded of the Hero Awards, that same overwhelming prickle of power edging over you as he stalked closer, the same scent like caramel and gunpowder.

Miruko’s eyes flicked between the two of you curiously, an eyebrow raised in interest. You hoped it meant she was interested enough in your data analysis to intervene if Bakugou tried to sauté you like an onion.

“If you melt through this blazer I really will sabotage the hero rankings and dip you all the way to number five hundred,” you threatened, edging away from Bakugou as he drew closer. “And also you owe me money for that dress.”

“I’m not gonna fucking give you shit,” he announced, looming over you when he’d decided he was close enough to intimidate. He was near enough that you could feel the heat of him, but he hadn’t put his hands to you yet. It seemed Miruko was enough of a deterrent to curb his bad behavior. “And I’m not gonna meet with you.”

“Good, then we agree,” you said, tipping your head back to look him in the eye. “You’re not good enough to do better anyways.”

Bakugou growled, the phrase clearly still enough to tick him off a year later. “Fuck you, I’m the best.”

“That’s not what your ranking tells me,” you clicked your tongue, feigning disinterest. With the dirt and scratches all over him he looked wilder than ever and you would be a fool to ignore it, but Miruko’s presence made you bold. And something else, some latent streak of frustration and pettiness told you to keep going, to keep pressing the buttons that were getting this reaction from him.

“Your ranking tells me you haven’t even improved the tiniest bit in an entire year. At this rate, you’ll never even hit the top three, never mind be the best. I don’t think you could improve even if you wanted to,” you said.

Bakugou looked like he wanted nothing more than to tear your head off with his teeth. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

You opened your mouth to reply but there was a sudden motion at the edge of your vision, something pink and blurry and wild. You glanced past Bakugou’s shoulder to find Ashido leaning around the wall, waving a hand frantically and mouthing something at you. You squinted, watching her lips shape themselves carefully: make a bet.

What? Make a bet?

She wanted you to make a bet?

You looked back up at Bakugou, taking in the oppositional expression, the angry curl of his mouth, the straight slope of his nose, and those keen, blood red eyes glaring down at you. This was certainly the face of a man who wouldn’t be told what to do, who couldn’t be told what to do.

But despite your words and your inherent distaste, there was no denying he was actually your best shot, the cleanest pathway to your promotion. Bakugou was smart, driven, and absolutely lethal. If anyone could turn around a rank at top speed it was him.

But he couldn’t be made to do it. He had to want to do it.

Ashido waved in the corner of your vision again, enunciating with exaggerated facial expressions. Make a bet.

Things clicked into place.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure,” you looked away from Ashido, inspecting your nails casually, like your focus would rather be anywhere than on this conversation. “In fact, I would bet almost anything that you wouldn’t know how to implement my suggestions, even if you tried.”

Bakugou froze, red eyes passing over you curiously. For one heart stopping moment, you thought he was on to you, but he just leaned down instead, putting his face close to yours.

“I’ll fucking take that bet.”

You tried to push down your sudden swell of excitement, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You knew he wouldn’t cooperate if he thought you were happy about this.

“Fine. You have two months to jump a rank,” you said. “Or I win. And you’ll pay me what you owe me for the dress.”

Bakugou smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. This had the effect of emphasizing both the tears in his shirt and the swell of his biceps.You quickly attached your eyes firmly to his face--that was so not what you needed to be focused on right now.

“I’ll do it in one,” he said. “And then I win, you smug fucking nerd.”

You gazed at him steadily. “Agreed. Miruko’s number seven--you think you can beat your own boss with just a month of work? You’ll never.”

“You haven’t heard what I win yet,” he said.

You stared at him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You go up in rank. That’s what you win.”

Bakugou’s handsome face shifted into an uneven smirk. “Oh no. This is twice now you’ve opened your little know-it-all mouth and acted like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. When I win, you’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You suppressed an eye roll. If he moved up a rank, the point would very obviously be that you were right all along. Was he really so unreasonably competitive and spiteful that he needed to be told he was right?

Then you remembered he’d quite literally dragged you into a stairwell and implied he'd fry you to a crisp when he found out he was number eight. Of course he was.

Well, a few throwaway words were worth nothing compared to the promotion you’d be getting. He could have his sense of self satisfaction when you were knee deep in software engineers and fat stacks of money.

You took a deep breath, holding out a hand. “Okay. If you win, which is a very big if, then I’ll admit it. Deal?”

Bakugou considered you for a long moment, red eyes watching you closely, before a calloused hand engulfed yours. “Deal," he growled, a crooked grin flickering at the edge of his mouth. "Get ready to eat shit, nerd.”

You suppressed another eye roll, hoping to god this was going to be worth it.

This was going to be the longest month of your life.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #tw threats #tw gendered violence

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise, Part II: The Top 5 Worst Things

Last week, I listed my top five favorite things about the first 44 episodes of Strange Paradise, when Ian Martin was headwriter and when the show had a very different feel to it than in the final four weeks of the Maljardin arc. But no creative work is perfect, and, despite my fondness for this show, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think that the writing for early Maljardin had several glaring flaws. Unlike Danny Horn, I don’t think that Ron Sproat was a better writer than Martin (actually, I consider Sproat the worst writer on SP), but that doesn’t mean that I don’t also feel that his writing needed some improvement. Note that this entry is specifically about the writing during this period, so things outside his creative control (e.g. the Conjure Man’s questionable casting) will be excluded from the list.

That said, here are my top five least favorite things about the writing in the first nine weeks of Strange Paradise:

5. Cheesy dialogue

More specifically, (1) bad jokes and (2) slang that was already outdated when these episodes originally aired in 1969. This one is #5 because, while these lines are cheesy, I can’t hate them because most of them make me laugh. Even my personal least favorite of Jacques’ jokes, the “pose” line from Episode 18, is kind of funny in an ironic, anti-humor sort of way, like the dad jokes that have become fashionable in recent years. While there are some jokes in this show that I find genuinely funny--Elizabeth’s Song of Solomon joke, for instance, or “the lady doth detest too much”--most others are the epitome of cornball. Sometimes you hear both in the same episode: Episode 21 is loaded with Devil jokes/puns that would be unforgivably corny if Colin Fox didn’t possess enough charisma to sell them, and yet the same episode also features a genuinely hilarious double entendre. The good jokes sneak up on you, sometimes amidst a hurricane of bad ones.

As for the slang, some comments that I’ve read mention that it was largely out of date even in the late sixties. My good friend Steve (with whom I often discuss SP) has told me that “you might not be aware of how campy that slang sounded in 1969 since you obviously did not live through the Sixties--this happened with a lot of TV shows during that period, the most egregious examples being the various ‘evil druggie Hippie’ episodes of DRAGNET.” Apparently Martin became infamous for using outdated slang later on when he wrote for CBS Radio Mystery Theater, putting lines like “I dig a man who’s far-out!” and “I think bein’ around here’s gonna be kicks!” in the mouths of some of his younger characters. Even if he had used up-to-date slang, it most likely would have still aged poorly (as slang typically does), especially for generations born after phrases like “the most” and “making the ___ scene” fell out of use.

4. Slow pace and excessive repetition

This one is also low on the list, because slow pace and repetition weren’t flaws when the show originally aired, but instead have aged poorly because of advances in technology that made them unnecessary. Before the advent of the programmable VCR, you had to be able to catch the program you wanted to watch on time or have someone you knew catch it on time and record it--which, in 1969, would have meant an audio-only tape recording. This meant that only the most fortunate and/or most loyal viewers would have been able to watch Strange Paradise every day, making it necessary to recap all the major events in subsequent episodes for those who missed out. This is also likely the reason why early SP (like most soaps of the time) has a relatively slow pace: if too much happens in one episode, you have to recap more and the people who missed the big episode are more disappointed.

Nowadays, with DVRs, video streaming, and DVD sets--not to mention certain legally-questionable means--it’s nearly impossible to miss an episode of your favorite show (with few exceptions), making extensive recap largely obsolete. Screenwriters can cram as many plot points as they want into one episode and no longer have to write five episodes of the other characters reacting to the news if they don’t want to.

Even so, just because the constant recap served a function at the time doesn’t mean I have to like it. It gets annoying hearing the same plot points reiterated episode after episode. Like I said while reviewing Episode 21, “if someone were to remake this show for Netflix or another streaming service, they could safely ignore about 75 percent of the original scripts and condense the remaining 25 percent quite a bit without omitting anything important.”

And don’t even get me started on the lampshading of absent cast members, like in Episode 9 when Jean Paul and Quito wasted two minutes searching for Raxl just to slow the plot down. It’s nothing compared to Ron Sproat’s “we must search for Quito” filler episode in Desmond Hall (Episode 78), but still, those scenes were pointless.

3. Extreme artistic license with certain historical/cultural details

Although Ian Martin did a surprising amount of research on certain subjects for Strange Paradise, there are some subjects where he either didn’t do enough research, or (more likely) made extensive use of artistic license. The first one is his portrayal of Jacques’ wife Huaco as an Inca princess despite their marriage occurring over a century after the fall of the Inca Empire. I discussed this all the way back in Part II of my review of the pilot, where I invented the theory of Jacques traveling back in time to marry her, but other possible explanations include Huaco being a 17th-century descendant of Inca royalty (as the Quechua people are still alive today), extreme artistic license, and/or critical research failure. I don’t know if we would have eventually gotten a good explanation if Martin had continued writing the series, but we would need a damn good one for the approximate equivalent of having a 21st-century character marry the Russian Grand Duchess Anastasia. I’m willing to suspend my disbelief and accept it considering that this is a fantasy series, but it still creates a lot of plot holes that need to be filled.[1]

Another example of artistic license about which I feel more ambivalent is the conflation of voodoo with the Aztec-inspired indigenous religion of Maljardin, which I’ve discussed before both in my Episode 23 review and Part I of this post series. I’m not sure if this is genius--religious syncretism is a real phenomenon throughout the Caribbean and Latin America, and some people today do syncretize the vodou Serpent God with Quetzalcoatl--or just an instance of Martin playing fast and loose with facts. I would like to think it’s the former, but it could just as easily be the latter (hence why I referenced it on both lists--I have mixed feelings about it).

2. Annoying inconsistencies

Does Raxl know that Jean Paul is possessed by Jacques Eloi des Mondes? Does Vangie? Why does Jacques’ portrait disappear in some episodes after he possesses Jean Paul, but not in others? All three of these things vary from episode to episode, and change annoyingly often as the plot demands. Steve and I have also discussed this subject in the past, and he believes that Martin used this device to make the story easier to follow; if that’s the case, it appears that he used Raxl and Vangie as audience surrogates, especially for new viewers or people who didn’t tune in every day. But surely there were other ways to do that without creating continuity errors? It may have served a function, but that doesn’t make it good writing. What Martin is essentially doing is filling and reopening the same plothole, episode after episode.

Regarding the portrait, I don’t know how much to blame Martin’s scripts for this inconsistency and how much to blame the directors, as I don’t have access to any SP scripts beyond the pilot script and the Vignettes. However, I’m going to assume that he’s at least partially to blame, because at least the pilot script mentions the disappearing portrait (which literally disappears in all three of the Paperback Library novels), Also, while none of the characters ever mention the portrait vanishing (unlike in the tie-in novels), some of his episodes have characters looking at it while Jacques is controlling Jean Paul and commenting on the uncanny resemblance. See also the diegesis tag for more discussion and analysis of the disappearing portrait.

1. Tim’s subplot

It should surprise none of my regular readers that Tim’s subplot is my #1 least favorite thing about the first nine weeks of Maljardin. I’ve already written an entire post about why I dislike this subplot, so I’ll keep my discussion of it here brief. Jean Paul saves the life of artist Tim Stanton when he hires him to paint Erica’s portrait, but then does nothing to make the commission easy for him--which is not a bad set-up for a plot in and of itself, but the execution is terrible. Tim chooses to use Holly as his model despite her barely resembling Erica, and Martin mostly uses their subsequent interactions to drive the old, tired, clichéd plot where two people who bicker and hate each other at first eventually fall in love (or at least he appears to be setting that up[2]). The payoff for the Holly portrait subplot finally occurs in Episode 33, but it’s underwhelming (not to mention barely recapped) and the already bland Tim quickly becomes a background character. In short, his subplot is a boring waste of time and should have either had more payoff or--preferably--been scrapped altogether.

That concludes my list of the worst things about Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise. Stay tuned for my review of Episode 45 within the next two weeks.

{<- Previous: The Top 5 Best Things }

Note

[1] Interestingly, there is a possible (if unlikely) historical explanation for Huaco’s sister Rahua having “skin as white as goat’s milk” and “hair like ripened wheat.” An early Spanish account of the Chachapoya people (aka Cloud People) of the Northern Andes describe them as “the whitest and most handsome of all the people that I have seen, and their wives were so beautiful that because of their gentleness, many of them deserved to be the Incas’ wives and to also be taken to the Sun Temple.” Assuming the Spanish account isn’t made up, this proves that reality is sometimes unrealistic.

[2] Thankfully, given the soap opera genre, it’s unlikely that Tim and Holly would have stayed together forever, even if they had eventually fallen in love during their painting-and-bickering sessions. Even so, that doesn’t make it a good subplot.

#strange paradise #ian martin #maljardin arc #review #analysis #arc review #list #bruce gray was a good actor but tim stanton is zzzzzzzzz #even jean paul agrees ;)

[marrella-splendens]

hinchinbrook

it was getting into mid-july, so for a little walk outside valentine only needed to grab a relatively light jacket and gloves. after weeks of seemingly unending clouds, the sky had finally opened up, and seeing as she was off-duty at the moment, nothing was stopping her from spending a few precious moments at her favorite sitting spot. beverly and myrtle were both up at the top of the light, cleaning off the fresnel or something. it was about 7pm, but at this latitude at this time of the year, that still gave them a good two or three hours of leeway before sunset. she'd check in on them later. daisy, however, had been sick with a particularly tenacious cold for the past several days, and she sniffled pathetically from her bed across the room. she turned over on her side, watched through the dark sweaty bangs covering her eyes as valentine prepared to go out.

"you're going out, val," she mumbled blearily. it was phrased like a statement, but something in her intonation was questioning.

"yup," she replied. "s'clear out. I'll draw you a picture of it, if you want. hell, see it yourself if you can get out of bed before the clouds roll back in." daisy just groaned, and rolled back over. barely a minute went by before valentine could hear her snoring again. that was probably for the best.

pulling on her cleanest wool hat, she stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. the sun hung low in the southwest. it'd be skirting above the pacific for a little while yet. she fished a pair of bent aviators out of her pocket, and thought about how stylish she looked, at least for a lighthouse keeper. she slowly trudged along the path, making her way to just behind the outbuildings next to the cliff.

while the island was known for having a few rather nice beaches, valentine actually appreciated being able to watch the ocean from up here. it felt safer, and knowing the mercurial nature of these waters, she needed all the comfort she could get. it was bad enough thinking about the earthquakes that had hit, back in the late twenties, that had forced a slight relocation onto sturdier ground. for now, though, everything was calm and quiet and stable. she found her favorite spot, a nice clean tree stump, and pulled out her notepad as she sat down.

from somewhere up and behind her, she heard a dull thump followed by the muffled sound of uproarious laughter. she clicked her tongue disapprovingly, but if bev and myrtle had fucking broken something again, they probably wouldn't be laughing. not this hard, anyway. as long as they were working, and not getting... distracted, again. she shook her head.

the first part of a drawing, at least for valentine, was the ever-important date at the top left corner. she was known for meticulously dating all her notes, regardless of their pertinence to her work, here. it calmed her down, to know when things happened, to have it all sorted out in her head. she mumbled to herself as she scribbled, "july fourteenth, nineteen seventy two." and with that, she was free to get to business.

the vista itself was not always, well, terribly majestic. she was certainly used to it, staring out at the horizon, watching where the ocean met the sky. what was interesting was... yes! there. over the course of a minute or so, she started to see a shape appearing, a vague blob that barely passed for any kind of seafaring vessel at this point. she dutifully sketched it, however, making note of the time, drawing it again and again as it crept more into view. based on its size and apparent heading, it was an oil tanker, slowly lumbering its way up to valdez. like just about all sea traffic, around here.

on more interesting days, the atmosphere might present her with a fata morgana, allowing her to see incoming ships from farther away, as images and inverted images of ships, stacked on top of one another, bent their way around the horizon to her. she liked to watch those, as the shapes tended to waver and adjust rapidly. gave her more things to sketch.

as the tanker moved along and back out of sight, valentine started to sketch all the little clouds that still persisted after the veritable blankets, that had entombed them until today, finally decided to part. she liked the shapes they made, little wisps of icy cirrus, here and there. playful, almost; forming lines and waves and gentle curves as the wind rolled them around, distorting and reforming them. the sun, moving more laterally than anything, continued westward, starting to hide a bit behind the trees, and casting long shadows everywhere.

the chill was starting to set in. nothing at all like winter, but cold always seemed to find its way to you regardless. she rubbed her hands together, stood up and ran in place, and did her best to warm back up. she knew that if she wanted she could go back in, have some coffee. maybe check up on what the girls were doing, or perhaps not doing. but she felt compelled to stay. as if to drive the point home, a large flock of seabirds soared past overhead, and val was already back to her notebook, doing her best to do justice to the beautiful forms that nature was kindly presenting to her. she barely noticed when the light came on, behind her, starting to blink lazily, casting occasional shadows here and there. the sun had finally fled the scene, leaving the sky a deep, almost uniform blue.

somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her work shift was going to start, soon. with daisy out of commission, the few short nighttime hours would be left to her, and her alone. it was about when she had this thought, thinking about sitting around, checking on things, staying awake all night, that she started to hear something. something hissing, from behind her. immediately her mind raced; what kind of wildlife lived here that could make a noise like that? she knew there were bears around, and wolves. stuff like that. but hissing? it almost sounded like some kind of gas leak, but they didn't even have that out here. she forced herself to turn around.

at first, besides the sound, nothing at all seemed particularly amiss. the lights were on in the main building; she even saw a silhouette in the window for just a moment that looked like bev; nobody else she knew had hair quite like that. she looked around, into the woods. nothing but spruce and hemlock stared back at her. and then she thought to look up.

almost directly above her, an entire constellation appeared to be falling out of the sky. at least, that was her first impression. she sat down on the dirt, incredulous, forcing her hand to continue what it had been dutifully doing for the past couple hours. shaking from cold and a creeping sense of fear, she did her best to render in graphite what her eyes hardly believed they were seeing. suspended above them, hanging in the indigo sky, about a half dozen fireballs burned through the air, in formation. she would have thought they were moving, as they left fiery trails in their wake, wisping off in streams of burning red and orange and green, but none of them even appeared to be moving.

it was difficult to take her eyes off them, even to draw. the hissing noise grew louder, and ever so slightly, the fireballs began to move, circling almost, seeming to burn away in some nonexistent wind. she found she could barely move, or open her mouth to speak. her eyes wide, she wanted to scream, to call for help, to at least call somebody to witness this with her, but she only felt her eyes well up with tears. they left trails of biting cold down her cheeks, in the slight breeze, but she could not move her hand to wipe them away. the image of the fireballs burned into her, leaving ghostly trails on her retinas. the noise was unbearable, so loud she thought the ground would crumble away underneath her, that the cliffside would finally fail and she'd be dragged down with everything into the maw of the pacific.

the fireballs were close now. if they had been made of fire, she surely would have felt some heat off of them; they were about level with the top of the lighthouse now. surely the ladies inside could see this, or at least hear it! but if they did, they did not come running outside, to check on her. the sound was absolutely unbearable.

suddenly, without any apparent prompting, one fireball broke from the group, approaching her. surely now her diaphragm would produce a scream, but all she heard was her own voice, croaking in her throat. she was holding on her her pencil so hard she thought it would crack. she looked, stared up into the fireball, as it filled her vision, and for a moment, she thought she saw something staring back.

when she woke up, it was dark. the stars were out, glowing beautifully; jupiter hung right over the horizon, bright enough to leave a faint trail of reflection on the water, which seemed relatively calm. there was no noise, no more hissing, not even the slightest breeze. and she was sitting on her stump again. hadn't she gotten up? she wasn't sure. it took a few more moments to notice a presence next to her. "hey val, you alright?" asked the vague blob in her peripheral. myrtle, based on her voice. kinda raspy.

valentine turned her head, as if submerged in tacky glue. "uhhh..." she began to answer. she realized, though, that she didn't know what to say. wasn't sure if she had just been dreaming. "you didn't happen to, um." she felt stupid. they'd laugh at her for this, no doubt. "there were, uh. some shooting stars. did you see those?"

myrtle just chuckled, and patted her on the shoulder. "I was inside, remember? cmon val, you're cold as ice, and we need some relief. let's get some coffee in you, alright?" valentine didn't resist as she was led back along the path, back indoors. she couldn't really complain; she had almost started to forget what warmth felt like. once her fingers stopped burning, she carefully pulled her notebook out of her pocket, flipped it to the latest entry.

a half dozen very shaky fireballs.

she closed it and tucked it back into her pocket. she had work to do. daisy, from her bed in the corner, laughed to herself, and managed to pull her body up into a sort of halfway sitting position. it looked uncomfortable, but daisy didn't seem to mind at all. in fact, if you had asked her, valentine would have said she seemed completely healthy again, if it weren't for the ugly crust of dried snot around her nose and at the corners of her mouth. she looked right at her. right into her eyes. and seemed, almost, as if she was about to speak, but instead only winked, and climbed back underneath the blankets.

two days later, she died, without having said another word. they buried her near the edge of the woods. bev even liberated a decently sized gravestone from near the cliffs, careful not to fall down herself. they did what they could for her. when valentine was due to return home again, later that summer, she knew she wouldn't be coming back. she'd find another line of work. something less remote. only a couple years later, the lighthouse was automated, making their jobs obsolete anyway.

valentine didn't even hear about the lighthouse again until 1981. she had been chatting up some members of a tanker crew, in a little dive bar in anchorage. the windows were drafty as all fuck, and they huddled together near a space heater, telling stories about life on the sea. the guy next to her, matthew, brightened up when she mentioned cape hinchinbrook. "ya worked there, huh? ya don't say. useful light, yaknow." she chuckled to himself, and his companion, and older guy named chuck, just grunted.

"don't even start about that nonsense, matt. we can hear it coming a mile away," he said, looking like he might spit at the thought.

matthew brushed it off. "cmon, it's a good one. now, val, it's really funny, not long after you left, we were passin' there, as we used to do, and it was gettin' kinda late in the evening,"

"christ," groaned chuck, as he got up to get another beer. "fuckin' sick of this shit. call me back over when you've got somethin' original to spout off about."

"anyway!" matthew laughed, "it was... I think it was seventy three. we go past and, at first I think it's just a star, right? a bright star. but it's moving! circling around the lighthouse, like it fuckin owned the place! almost looked like, I dunno." he started to look discouraged. "like somethin' on fire, I guess. anyway, they say it's 'uninspired' or some shit. but I swear to you."

valentine took a drink. "just the one, you say?"

honestly, matthew just looked relieved to not be laughed at. "yeah," he said. "just the one."

#fiction #ufo #lighthouse #alaska

[thequirkdetective]

Investigation 4 (12/6/2020): Explosion - Katsuki Bakugou

This investigation will cover the quirk of the most famous/infamous character in the BNHA fandom: Katsuki Bakugou. His ‘explosion’ quirk allows him to “secrete nitro-glycerine-like sweat”[1] from his skin and detonate it at will, and he uses the resultant explosions for direct close-range attack, movement, and illumination. The main detail to be examined therefore is the synthesis of the substance within Bakugou’s body.

To begin with, we’ll look specifically at the compound Nitro-glycerine. It is described by Encyclopaedia Britannica as “a colourless, oily, somewhat toxic liquid having a sweet, burning taste”. How exactly the taste of nitro-glycerine was discovered is not explained, and neither is the dubious use of the word “slightly”, but the entry does describe the exact stages of the decomposition of the molecule. Its extreme instability lies in its high nitrogen content. Diatomic nitrogen molecules form triple covalent bonds, and are thus very stable. Therefore, the nitrogen in its state within the nitro-glycerine molecule is unstable, as it ‘wants’ to form strong, stable triple-bonds. As the nitrogen is released from the molecule, energy is given off as heat, which allows the carbon and hydrogen atoms to react with the oxygen, releasing yet more heat. It is this second step, facilitated by the high oxygen content of the molecule, that makes nitro-glycerine so powerful as an explosive.

The instability of the compound creates difficulty – since it is in such a high energy state, it takes a lot of energy to synthesise. The commercial synthesis of nitro-glycerine involves heated nitric and sulfuric acids, but can be done at home, in an experiment not for the faint of heart (or perhaps the opposite, but we’ll get to that later). The ridiculousness of such an experiment can be summed up by a forum post by an amateur chemist using the phrase “only 65-70% concentrated HNO3 [nitric acid] and 96-98% concentrated H2SO4 [sulfuric acid]”. It’s safe to say that such a reaction is infeasible within biological environments, and most likely any environment without a few dozen blast shields and fume hoods. However, the main pathway is simply the nitration of glycerol, where each of the three hydroxide (OH) groups are replaced with a nitrate (NO3) group, and the mixture of sulfuric and nitric acid only exists to create protonated nitric acid (nitric acid with an additional H+ ion). It is this that reacts with the glycerol in an endothermic reaction, so if the two can be gathered from food then nitro-glycerine can be synthesised within Bakugou’s body.

Glycerol, referred to in the food industry as glycerine, is used as a preservative and sweetener, and as such can be found in a handful of foods, such as dried fruits, soft drinks, and icing. Despite this, the average intake of glycerol per day is rather low. Additionally, I have yet to come across a food containing nitric acid in both high enough quantities to be used for nitro-glycerine production and low enough quantities to be safe, or indeed containing nitric acid at all. The role of nitric acid in the reaction is rather indirect, though, and a safer way to obtain the nitronium (NO2+) ion could be found, specifically via nitric oxide (NO). This compound can be obtained via the ingestion of many foods, including red meat, beetroot, garlic, and dark chocolate. The compound would then bind to a protonated oxide ion, and become the desired nitronium ion.

It is important to note that when explaining his quirk, Bakugou uses the phrase “nitro-glycerine-like”. The pronunciation is ambiguous in the dub (either “secrete nitro-glycerine-like sweat, or “secrete nitro-glycerine like sweat”), but the subtitles reveal the former to be true, and therefore we know that the substance that is produced is not pure nitro-glycerine. Nitro-glycerine, despite the name, is in fact not a nitro compound, but a nitrate ester. These compounds all have the property of explosive, smokeless decomposition, but are again synthesised using nitric acid. The intake of nitric acid is unlikely to be the ingestion of the compound in solution, due to the acid’s tendency to corrode biological tissues. Bakugou’s internal organs have not yet been shown in the anime, but it is safe to assume that he does not internal chemical burns by drinking acid. The issue is therefore one of acquiring the acid (interestingly, passing electricity through moist air creates small amounts of nitric acid, a technique that could be completed with the help of Denki Kaminari) and somehow ingesting it without causing large amounts of corrosive damage to the digestive system. Therefore, the compound would most likely be synthesized rather than ingested in its native form. The synthesis of nitric acid involves the reaction between nitrogen dioxide and water, releasing nitric oxide and nitric acid. This nitric acid can then be reacted with glycerine to produce nitro-glycerine (although glycerine is relatively rare in the body and diet), or an alcohol to produce a corresponding nitrate ester. These esters are all to a certain degree explosive, especially methyl and ethyl nitrate, created with methanol and ethanol, respectively. Since methanol is incredibly toxic to humans (there’s a reason people don’t drink methylated spirits and tell you about it), it can be assumed the substance secreted by Bakugou’s skin is ethyl nitrate (formula C2H5NO3).

Now the exact compound and method of synthesis is known, we can look at some of the possible side-effects of such a quirk. The first, which has been theorised by a few different fans, is the fact that nitro-glycerine is used to treat high blood pressure. At first it may seem that this problem is irrelevant, since it is expressly stated the compound created is not nitro-glycerine, but the treatment works via nitro-glycerine’s decomposition into nitric oxide, catalysed by the enzyme mitochondrial aldehyde dehydrogenase 2. It is then the nitric oxide which causes vasodilation, not the nitro-glycerine. This is a problem due to nitric oxide’s role as a by-product of Bakugou’s production of ethyl nitrate, and thus any of the compound that enters the blood stream would be absorbed by the blood vessels and cause lowered blood pressure. This could become dangerous, as low blood pressure creates dizziness, fatigue, nausea, and in extreme cases, loss of consciousness. Usually, low blood pressure (also known as hypotension) does not need treatment, but chronic hypotension can be treated via medication to alleviate the symptoms.

Another minor issue is the lack of normal sweating. Sweat lowers body temperature by evaporating, taking energy from the skin and cooling it. Ethyl Nitrate would perform similarly to normal sweat in this scenario, with any slight differences in energy change regulated by the amount of ethyl nitrate which is secreted (just like how the amount of sweat people secrete is based on temperature). However, it would make especially sweaty areas of Bakugou’s body dangerously flammable. It should also be noted that only Bakugou’s hands are every depicted as having explosive potential, so either Bakugou only sweats through his hands, leading to incredibly clammy, flammable and dangerous hands in any slightly warm environment, or sweats normally, leading to the possibility of his explosions spreading across his whole body. If he just sweats from his hands, this also explains the disproportionately large frequency and size of explosions he can release.

It hopefully should be rather evident that sweating explosive compounds and causing them to spontaneously detonate on one’s skin is not good for one’s bodily wellbeing. The immediate worry is one of burns from temperature increase. Ethyl Nitrate burns with 1348922 Joules per mole. I can’t find any measure for the average amount of sweat on someone’s hands, but it’s safe to assume it’s only a few ml and so the explosion of jus the residual sweat on Bakugou’s hands wouldn’t do much damage to the skin, since the heat isn’t very high or prolonged. The frequent detonation of small amounts of sweat would at worst cause hardening and callousing of the skin. But what about large quantities of sweat?

One of the largest (and first) uses of Bakugou’s quirk in combat seen is when the gauntlets integrated into his hero costume are used against Deku. They allow the storage and voluntary detonation of large volumes of Bakugou’s sweat, leading to a large explosion with significant offensive capabilities. But as Newton’s third law of motion states, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In this case, a force of equal magnitude to the one exerted on the opponent, but in the opposite direction (along Bakugou’s arm). The magnitude of such a blast could be calculated by estimating the volume of storage in the gauntlet. The gauntlets stretch across the length of Bakugou’s forearms, and have a similar width. If we approximate them to a cylinder of length 30cm (12 inches), and width 20cm (8 inches), the volume of the gauntlets is ~9500cm3. Of course, some of this space is taken up by Bakugou’s arm, so simplifying his arm to a 10cm wide cylinder (to account for some beefy forearms), the volume reduces to ~7000cm3.

Let’s then estimate that 75% of that volume is sweat storage, so the final value for the volume of sweat each gauntlet comes to approx. 5250cm3, or 5.25 litres (1.2 gallons). This amount of liquid would weigh nearly 6kg (13.2lbs), not an easy feat to swing around with one arm, let alone jump and do acrobatics with (but again, we’re observing that Bakugou has some large muscles). We know the detonation of Ethyl Nitrate releases 1348922 Joules per mole, and 5.25 litres of Ethyl Nitrate is the equivalent of 64 moles. Therefore, the explosion of one full gauntlet releases 86.3 MJ of energy, equivalent to 20kg (44lbs) of TNT.

With proper preparation and placement, 1kg of TNT can be used to destroy a small vehicle. The explosions caused by many amateur bombs are equivalent to around 10kg of TNT. It is safe to say that if the entire gauntlet were detonated at once, the building would suffer catastrophic structural damage, most likely leading to at least partial collapse, and both Deku and Bakugou would be immediately killed (its seems All Might may have been on to something here). Although the damage caused by the use of the gauntlet is severe, it does not equate to the detonation of 20kg of TNT, and therefore we can deduce that only a portion of the total capacity of the gauntlet was detonated. The question is, how much?

After examining the many different controlled explosions usefully uploaded to YouTube, I estimate that the explosion Bakugou unleashed in episode 7 equated to roughly 10kg (22lbs) of TNT, or half of the maximum force of one gauntlet. The exact force exerted by the explosion is near impossible to accurately calculate, since the gauntlets direct the blast in a line, the dimensions and material of the corridor are not fully known, and well as many other factors come into play, not to mention I can’t find an equation that includes all of the terms ,corridor dimensions’, ‘material of corridor’, ‘width of gauntlet barrel’ and ‘weight of Bakugou and Deku’. However, we can turn to Newton again to figure out the damage to Bakugou’s arm. It is here we recall Newton’s third law of motion. It means that the force applied to Bakugou is at least the same magnitude as the force applied to Deku, and almost certainly much more since some of the force that would have hit Deku instead goes into destruction of the building. According to the BNHA wiki, Bakugou is 172cm tall, and we can see he is ~2.5 wall-tile-widths from the floor. This means the tiles in the scene are around 69cm wide and tall. Japan uses the metric system for all but traditional craft, and so it is likely the tiles are some round number of centimetres, let’s say 75cm. After the blast travels past and destroys ~35 tiles, 26m or 85ft (this seems rather far away for ‘close quarters’ combat, but here we are), it hits Deku and blasts him backwards, through the door behind him which sits 20 tiles (15m or 50ft) away. The blast is then immediately shown damaging the outer wall of the building, creating a roughly circular hole three windows wide. Afterwards, we see Deku standing in a new room, with the walls now tiled differently, but the width of each tile is the same 75cm when we compare them with the identical floor tiles. This shows us he is 7 tile-widths (5m or 16ft) from the door, having travelled a grand total of 20m (66ft).

The wind speed required to blow the average person off their feet is 45mph, the speed of a significant tropical storm. To work out the force of such a breeze, and thus the minimum force Deku was hit with, we must multiply the surface area of Deku’s body in m2, the wind speed in m/s, and the density of the air in kg/m3, giving us a final measurement of kgm/s2, or Newtons. Substituting in the numbers gives us approximately 50 Newtons of force as a minimum. Assuming this force was exerted over 1 second, we can see that 1 Deku 1m/s isn’t a realistic way to blow through a solid door. Let’s go bigger.

The magnitude of a force in Newtons can be calculated by multiplying the mass of the object the force acts upon and the resultant acceleration of the object due to the force (this is Newton’s Second Law of Motion). Since Deku starts at rest and acceleration is change in velocity over time, his acceleration is simply half his final velocity. The velocity now needs to be measured, which can be done via the approximate momentum need to break down a door.

The Enforcer is a modern battering ram used by the British Police do just that. It weighs 16 kg, and assuming it can be swung at ~15m/s (lets be conservative, Deku doesn’t need any more broken bones) the momentum it carries is 240kgm/s - this can also be understood as exerting a force of 240 Newtons on the door. For Deku to exert the same force, assuming he has an above average body weight[2] of ~75kg, he would have to be travelling at 3.2m/s. Let’s round up to 5m/s to account for his flight through the air and short trip beyond the door, since going at 2.3m/s would keep one airborne for long. This means that he has a force of 45kg × 5m/s acting upon him when hit by the blast, a force of 225 Newtons. Going back to Newton’s Third Law of Motion, this means Bakugou’s arm recoils under at least ~500 Newtons of force, since the blast originates from the gauntlet, (we’re being conservative and saying around 50% of the force missed Deku). Now we must find out the damage that this force would cause.

500 newtons is a lot of force, but it’s not the only thing to keep in mind. Boxers can punch up to 2500N, but the force doesn’t last long, maybe a tenth of a second. The main thing to focus on is impulse, and we can see that punches have an impulse of only 250kgm/s. The explosion force on Bakugou’s arm is applied over a significant time, giving an impressive impulse of ~1500kgm/s, or 6 boxer’s punches at once. The force required to dislocate a shoulder at the deltoid is around 85 Newtons, which means it’s not looking good for Bakugou’s tendons. However, the human shoulder can support a lot of force. People can dead-hang an excess of 100kg for an impressively long time, the equivalent of 980 Newtons (do note that this is in the opposite direction to our scenario, and does not carry a very high impulse). Even with the sudden shock, it’s doubtful that the 500N of recoil would do anything more than a possible dislocation (again, we’ve got serious muscle to take into account), which whilst being immensely painful would not be fatal or irreparable. But since half the force was enough to fling Deku through the air, even with adequate bracing Bakugou would near certainly be accelerated backwards and into the wall only a meter or two behind him, causing severe damage to his back, ribs, limbs, skull, and gauntlets. The headwear and shoulder guards of his costume may absorb some of the impact, but depending on their structural rigidity would probably do more harm than good, especially the sides of the mask which would be rather dangerous at high velocities.

Either way, Bakugou would be quickly propelled backwards, as if standing right next to an explosion of 10kg of TNT (a rather direct parallel) or being hit by 100 golf clubs simultaneously, if he were to unleash half of the possible blast of one of his gauntlets. Firing eve one, let alone both at full power would rival many modern-day chemical explosives, and would certainly be fatal to Bakugou and anyone within a considerable radius.

To conclude, Bakugou’s body uses nitrogen dioxide and water to create nitric acid, which is reacted with ethanol to produce ethyl nitrate. This is the explosive substance that Bakugou sweats, and it facilitates the explosions he can produce. Small amounts of the compound, as present on Bakugou’s skin, could be detonated, but to little effect. However, the storage of the compound allows significant explosive potential, with half of one gauntlet having the rough explosive power of 10kg of TNT, the equivalent of one small conventional bomb.

[1] Season 1 Episode 7: Deku vs Kaachan

[2] Season 1 Episode 3: Roaring Muscles

If you liked this investigation and want to have a say in the next one, then make sure to send a recommendation for which quirk I should investigate!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #tw: bomb #tw: explosives #quirk investigation #bnha analysis

[paulisweeabootrash]

2020 mini-review pack

Di Gi Charat (1999)

Episodes watched: 7

Platform: VRV (Hidive)

Di Gi Charat (pronounced like “carrot”) is a series of fast-paced 4-ish-minute shorts nominally about Dejiko and Rabi-en-Rose, rivals trying to be Earth’s greatest idol.  Who are, respectively, a catgirl and a bunnygirl.  Oh, and also they’re aliens?  That’s... uh... certainly a premise, I guess.  The actual show consists of self-contained gag-filled episodes with no ongoing story, in almost a sitcom kind of way, throwing the characters into situations without context, but with a stable “baseline” situation (unlike, say, Pop Team Epic, where the characters serve more as stock personalities playing different roles in different sketches).  Dejiko is a snarky schemer.  Rabi-en-Rose is a snarky schemer whose main activity seems to be bothering Dejiko at work.  Puchiko is a small and quiet child and behaves accordingly.  And Gema is... something?  I have no clue, honestly, and neither does the fan wiki.  Other recurring characters fill stock roles such as “manager” and “otaku”.  A lot of the humor centers around poking fun at fandom.  It’s a show by, for, and about otaku from an era before our current internet culture, and since I’m a millennial and not from Japan, that makes it unusually hard to evaluate.

W/A/S: 8/2?/5?

Weeb: Chibis.  Catgirls.  Idols.  Kappas.  Kawaii verbal tics.  Akihabara.  Low-detail background characters who look like blobs or thumbs with faces.  Kanji left on-screen but untranslated.  Particular sorts of highly-exaggerated facial expressions we may have become familiar with through emoji, but which still haven’t made their way into American media generally.  This is ludicrously Japanese.

Ass: This really isn't that kind of show.  Although it is certainly designed for adults, as evidenced by the presence of phrases like “naughty doujinshi”.

Shit: The art is fun.  It has style shifts from comic strip to watercolor painting to mainstream 90s anime, and looks better than some of its contemporaries that were, uh, “real” shows.  The opening takes up about a quarter of the total runtime and gets annoying quickly (but that's because it’s clearly designed for being part of a broadcast block, not binge-watching).  Still, unless I’m missing hidden cleverness on account of not having the background knowledge, there’s not much to it.  It’s just okay.

-----

First Astronomical Velocity (band, active 2011-present)

Platform: Spotify, surprisingly

Okay, this one is a bit different, and I’m jettisoning the whole format for it.  Remember how I said the music-centered episodes of SoniAni were actually pretty good, even though the modeling-centered episodes were so offputting I never finished the show?  Well it turns out that First Astronomical Velocity, Sonico’s band, has released several IRL albums.  Physical copies may be a little hard to come by, but official uploads of a lot of their music can be found on Youtube and Spotify.  Do your musical interests include at least two of: string arrangements that would be at home in a particularly sappy movie soundtrack, 90s-00s alternative rock, synthesizer beep-boops, and that constricted cutesy Japanese women’s vocal style (you know the one I mean)?  Then this is for you.  They’re a pretty good... uh... alt-pop-rock band, I guess is what I’d call them.

-----

Interspecies Reviewers (2020)

Episodes watched: the entire 12-episode season

Platform: I plead the 5th.  But it’s getting a video release soon, so it will finally be legitimately available in English!

I started this year with a plot-light fanservicey animal-people show, and now I’m ending the year with... a plot-light fanservicey animal-people show.  But unlike Nekopara, this show had me cracking up, eagerly clicking “next episode”, and not complaining about the premise.  I’m sure a lot of people do have a problem with this show’s premise -- which centers almost entirely on various forms of sex work -- and I understand and respect that they will want to skip this show.

But for the rest of you: Interspecies Reviewers is a wildly-NSFW comedy about a group of fantasy world adventurers who gain fame and fortune reviewing brothels of different species.  I expected excessive nudity and fantasy tropes, but I didn’t expect to also get serious thoughts.  Like showing, in the golem and Magic Metropolis episodes, some of the unsettling problems that are looming IRL as deepfakes and sex robots are in development -- note especially the contrast between consensually and non-consensually basing automata on real people in those episodes.  Or the discussion in the last episode of how much riskier sex would be in a world without magic (i.e., ours).  This is a much smarter and more interesting show than you’d expect, considering that it has so much sexual content that it got dropped by two of the networks airing it and even its US distributor.

W/A/S: 5/10/4

Weeb: Although heavily influenced by the Western fantasy media canon of European mythology and Tolkien and tabletop RPGs, familiarity with the tropes of fantasy anime will help you “get” this too, as will familiarity with the -sigh- character dynamics and censorship practices of hentai.  Especially because it’s a comedy, there are probably also instances where I have completely missed topical references or wordplay that a Japanese person would get, but I can’t think of any specific instances right now of “there was clearly supposed to be a joke but I missed it”.

Ass: Look, this could not possibly have more sexual content without unambiguously becoming porn.  Genitals are (almost) always carefully hidden by viewing angle or conveniently-placed glowing (something lampshaded in one episode as an actual feature of one of the species they review), but otherwise, expect lots of nudity and almost nonstop crude humor.  Do not watch this with children.  Do not watch this with your parents.  Do not watch this with friends you don’t know well enough to know how they’ll react to something like this.

Shit: This show is better-made than it deserves to be.  It’s pretty dumb at points, but it’s fun enough to make up for it.  The art is consistent and pleasant, and the opening and ending themes are extremely fun, but it’s not a serious standout in any of those departments.  Also, I swear the background music is stock music, but I don’t remember what other show(s) I’ve heard it in before.

Stray thought: Crim is a precious and relatable cinnamon roll and I love them.

-----

OreSuki OVA (2020)

Platform: Crunchyroll

So, I know I didn’t cover the whole season in my initial review, but I still want to mention the hour-ish-long finale of this show, which was released straight to streaming.  Short version of the rest of the season: Joro starts to actually fall for Pansy, but a new challenger, Hose, appears.  He is irritatingly attractive and effortless at maintaining the right persona for the situation, leading Joro to describe him as “the main character”.  Hose is the sociopathic manipulator Joro wishes he could be, and Pansy, who has a bad past with him, clearly wants nothing more than for Joro to stand up to him.  But, since this is OreSuki, it’s not going to be handled simply.  No, instead, strap in for a grand finale of Joro and Hose competing in, and trying to manipulate through rules-lawyering, an absolutely ludicrous competition to win the right to date Pansy.  And, on top of it, we also get to finally see how Sun-chan got to be the way he is and what happened at that pivotal baseball game that set off the whole plot.  What has Joro learned from the experiences of the past season?  You’ll see!  And you’ll facepalm about it!

Really, you must watch this if you watched the regular season.

W/A/S: 6/5(!)/4ish

Weeb: Basically the same as I said before.  Gags referencing other Japanese media, anime and otherwise, and it's better if you’re familiar with the high school romcoms and harem comedies Joro thinks in terms of.

Ass (and slight content note): -sigh- Why does the camera need to be there?  Also, Joro, you just committed a little bit of sexual assault for the sake of this contest.  Stop.

Shit: I want to rate this overall better than I did the regular season because I think it’s an excellent finale overall because, even though it ends in a very “let’s leave everything unresolved” way that’s common in media that rely on absurd relationships to propel the plot, it does so in a way that makes sense in character.  I personally think it would’ve been stronger if it had, well, confirmed its title, and at least some of the other “challengers” had lost interest in Joro, but I guess they probably want a Season 2, since they have so much more source material to work from.  There are... oh god 14 light novels?!  That is too many.

-----

Your Name. (2016)

Platform: DVD

Two high schoolers -- small-town girl Mitsuha, from Itomori, and big-city boy Taki, from Tokyo -- find themselves in each other’s bodies for a day.  They both think at first it must be a very vivid dream, but when it happens again, and they start finding clues like notes they don’t remember writing and comments by friends and relatives about their out-of-character behavior, they realize the body swap is real.  This begins a relationship of mutual understanding that nobody else can really understand -- or would even believe (except Mitsuha’s grandmother, who is... familiar with this phenomenon) -- and the plot then pivots to a tense adventure where they use their connection, some crucial information Taki has, the skills of Mitsuha’s friends, and the intervention of Itomori’s patron deity, to save the town from an impending disaster.

And that’s all I’ll say about that, because I really do think this is something you should go into blind.  My only remaining comments are that (1) the red string of fate is critically important imagery, and is particularly interesting to me here because, if I took a particular scene correctly, Mitsuha made her own red string of fate from sheer necessity, which is a very different twist on that trope, and (2) I am now curious about the history of the body-swapping phenomenon in-universe.

W/A/S: 4?/2/2

Weeb: As mentioned above, symbolism of the Red String of Fate shows up throughout the movie, as do the occasional distinctly Japanese quirk like a wildly out-of-place vending machine or a café with dogs, and but for the most part it’s a cross-cultural story of understanding and dealing with someone else’s life, and of forming a connection other people don’t -- can’t -- truly understand, and to some extent of divides between urban and rural and modern and traditional that I think could play out in any country with just the local symbolism tweaked.  The significance and content of Shinto beliefs and practices depicted, particularly kuchikamizake, are made pretty explicit, so although foreign to the vast majority of the non-Japanese audience, I feel like this movie also has nearly no barrier to entry for people not familiar with the cultural context, so I don’t want to rate it very high on this scale.

Ass: Look.  It involves teenagers switching bodies.  What do you think they do?  Especially Taki?  But it’s played for laughs, not titillation.

Shit: This movie is beautiful and punched me in the feels and was very satisfying.  The closest I have to a complaint about any aspect of it is that the musical breaks that I guess are supposed to mark acts of the movie almost make it feel like binge-watching a short series instead of watching a single self-contained movie.

#weeaboo trash #anime review #mini-reviews #happy new year #di gi charat #first astronomical velocity #super sonico #interspecies reviewers #oresuki #Are You Really the Only One Who Likes Me? #your name

[joe-mazzello-archive]

Agape - Chapter Six

A Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader fic

Rating: 18+

Chapter Six

Warnings: Language, Fluff-ish, Absolutely cheesy writing Word Count: 2600 A/N: Definitely didn’t think I would have time to write this weekend and then I wrote this entire thing on the plane. I appreciate the support on this series so far. Especially since I'm relatively new to the scene. Much thanks! Also I'm not a trained writer by any means so apologies for the amount of cheese when they're filming the final scene.

-

You and Joe made your way to a bar on Sixth Street, one of Austin's many nightlife spots. You picked a quieter one, one where the two of you wouldn't be bothered too much. You ordered your first round and took a seat at a high top.

"So are you going to explain why we couldn't go to dinner with Leah and Bri?" Joe eventually asked. You took a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your word choice carefully.

"As much as it might have looked like Leah was inviting all of us, she really was only inviting Briana," you replied. Joe gave you a confused look, the wheels turning in his head. Suddenly he understood.

"Ohhhh! Well that explains their weird interaction in the makeup trailer," Joe said, earning a nod from you.

The two of you chit-chatted for a bit, enjoying your drinks and each other's company. Occasionally someone would come over to greet the two of you, sometimes asking for a picture. You obliged, mostly because you were in a particularly good mood still. Your jealousy from earlier had completely dissipated and you had finally confessed your feelings for Joe. Well, to Leah at least. Close enough.

Joe seemed to notice your chipper mood.

"So you're particularly smiley tonight. I take it you're feeling better?" Joe commented.

"Feeling better?" you asked.

"Well it seemed like during the shoot you were getting a bit frustrated," he answered hesitantly, almost as if he was afraid to bring it up. You felt a little embarrassed, wishing that your feelings hadn't affected your work day so much.

"Yeah, I was kind of going through something personal and I brought it to work with me. Luckily I was able to work through it during the break so that I wouldn't hold us up anymore," you admitted, completely beating around the bush. It's not like you were going to tell him the whole truth.

"Anything you want to talk about? As cliche as it is, you know you can talk to me about anything," Joe said with a soft smile. Damn that smile. You felt your cheeks get warm once again, and you prayed he couldn't see them in the low light of the bar.

You thought about what he said. You were so tempted to just blurt it out right in the bar. Just empty out all of your feelings for the redhead sitting across from you. You opened your mouth to speak but stopped yourself. All of those nasty headlines from your last break-up flashed across your vision, reminding you why you shouldn't say anything. You finally spoke.

"Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it. I kind of talked it through with Leah, so I think I'm fine. But I'm glad to know I can go to you about stuff too," you said smoothly.

"Yeah, it's not a problem. I know before this we were just casual friends, but I feel like we've gotten really close over this shoot. I consider you a really close friend and I hope you feel that way, too," Joe admitted. Your blush only grew.

"I consider you a close friend, too," you replied, trying to will the redness in your face away.

"So....last day tomorrow. You ready?" Joe asked. Damn, you honestly had forgotten that the last day of shooting was so soon. You suddenly thought about the fact that soon you would be going home to LA and Joe would be going home to NYC. You felt a twinge of sadness; while you were looking forward to the distance to get rid of your feelings for Joe, you were bummed that you wouldn't be seeing him anymore.

"Yeah, I think so," you answered, trying not to reveal your sadness. "Shit, this shoot went by really fast."

"It really did. But as they always say, time flies when you're having fun filming an indie film," Joe joked. You chuckled.

"Oh, I don't think I’ve ever heard the full phrase before," you countered.

"Yeah, most people don't know that the phrase was originally said about filmmaking," Joe added. You shook your head lovingly. You raised your glass.

"To a great shoot with a great scene partner," you said, a huge smile plastered on your face as you looked into the eyes of the man you had fallen for.

"Here here," he replied, clinking your glass. You each took a sip of your drink.

You didn't stay at the bar too much longer, considering you both had to work the next day. You closed out your tab before heading in the direction of your apartment. Joe insisted he walk you back to your temporary home, which you appreciated. Once you arrived, you resisted the temptation to invite him up to your place. You exchanged goodbye hugs and Joe left your apartment lobby, headed to his own condo.

You slept soundly, only dreaming of Joe and his damn smile.

The next day arrived and you made your way to the set, a mix of emotions swimming through your head. You were a bit sad that you were going to have to say goodbye to the project as you had made really strong connections with the cast and crew. Plus you were bummed to say goodbye to the character of Ruby, who had become your favorite character you've ever played. You were also a mix of nervous and excited to film the final scene, hoping that the chemistry that you had developed with Joe would be evident as your characters realized they were in love.

You arrived at your trailer to drop off your purse when you noticed a folder on the table with a sticky note attached.

Last minute rewrite. -Julia

You opened the folder to find a rewritten version of the final page of the script. You sighed, hoping there weren't too many changes, as you had worked through the original several times. You skimmed the page, looking for any major differences. Your eyes landed on the final parenthetical.

The pair sit motionless for a few moments. Ruby turns to look at Desmond; she is feeling the strongest feelings she has ever felt in her entire life. Desmond mirrors Ruby, almost telepathically telling her that he is right there with her, flooding with emotions.

You cocked your head. Nothing had changed so far. You continued to read.

Silently, Ruby reaches up to cradle Desmond's face. Desmond reaches up and gently caresses Ruby's face. The two bring their foreheads together and close their eyes, paralleling the moment Desmond found Ruby at her weakest. They pull away slightly, looking right into each other's eyes. A tear runs down Ruby's face. Desmond gently wipes it away, just as before. After a few seconds of this, their lips connect. It is the most passionate, loving kiss we've ever seen. The two pull away, overwhelmed with emotions.

-RUBY: It's you.

Desmond smiles and nods.

-DESMOND: It's you.

Silently, Ruby shifts and tucks herself into Desmond's side, his arm instinctively coming up behind her to pull her in closer. They move as one, settling as close to each other as they can. Their attentions turn back to the television. Tears continue to stream down Ruby's face and she can't help but smile. She has found her true, unconditional love. Fade to black.

You're dumbfounded as you finish reading the paragraph. Before you have time to react, your phone buzzes.

Did you see the rewrite?

Joe. You had to kiss Joe. And not just any kiss. The "most passionate, loving kiss" the audience has ever seen. Normally this wouldn't phase you. You have had your fair share of on-screen kisses before. It was all part of the job. But this was different. This kiss was between you and the man you have been pining over for almost two months.

Yep, just read it.

You sat down on the couch, feeling almost dizzy.

I ran into Julia, she said that she was inspired by our performance in the pills scene. Specifically the part with our foreheads.

You almost laughed. Your performance in that scene was good enough for Julia to rewrite the final shots of the movie. So in turn, this was your own damn fault.

It was powerful stuff. I guess we're just that good.

His response was almost instantaneous.

I told you. Look out for those award noms, ma'am.

This time you actually laughed, shaking your head. Before you could come up with a clever retort, your phone buzzed again.

Want to rehearse it?

Your heart started beating even faster. You were conflicted. On one hand, you found rehearsing with Joe brought out the best performances from both of you. But on the other hand you were still processing the fact that you were going to have to passionately kiss him. You caught sight of the time and realized you were due in the makeup trailer.

Gotta head in for makeup. Maybe we can sneak one in after?

Sure. If not, no worries, I know we'll nail it without a rehearsal anyway.

After finishing in the makeup trailer, you made your way to the apartment set. The food containers and beer bottles were absent this time, since by this point in the film, Ruby has worked through a lot of her self-hatred with the help of Desmond.

You found Joe stretched out on the apartment couch, absentmindedly tapping away at his phone. Once he noticed you, he immediately adjusted to make room for you on the couch. You found yourself more nervous than normal, your heart beating a mile a minute as you took a seat next to Joe. Julia scurried over to the two of you, a huge grin on her face.

"Alright my lovelies. Are you ready?" she asked. You each nodded, both apparently at a loss for words.

You began to work through the beginning of the scene. Ruby and Desmond were seeking solace with each other, Desmond coming off a break-up scene with Talia and Ruby coming off an intense scene between her and her grandparents. The two characters always seemed to find each other in their times of need.

"Talia never loved you. And Dez, you never loved her either. Love doesn't look like that. Not the kind that matters. The kind that stops your heart cold. The true, everlasting love," you pleaded.

"How am I supposed to know when it's that kind of love?" Joe asked, dejected.

"You just know."

And just like that, you had reached the final page of the script.

You stared forward, your heart feeling like it was going to beat out of your chest. After a few moments you turned to look at Joe, overcome with just how strongly you felt for him. He turned to look back at you, his hazel eyes piercing into your soul. You had never seen Joe look at you like that and your breath caught in your throat. You took in the man in front of you, every beautiful feature. Your chest swelled and your stomach fluttered.

You weren't even acting anymore. You were absolutely, ridiculously, completely in love with Joseph Francis Mazzello.

You reached up to cradle his face, just as the script had said. His face had a bit of scruff, and you softly caressed the stubble. His hand reached up and mirrored your action. You leaned into the touch a bit, a soft smile on your face. The two of you slowly moved closer until your foreheads rested against each other. You closed your eyes, taking in Joe's familiar scent, bringing a bit of comfort. You were overwhelmed with feelings again, and the tears easily came. You were so happy to be where you were. You almost didn't care that it was all pretend. You were doing what you loved, telling a story. And you were doing it with a man you loved.

When you pulled away slightly, you made eye contact with Joe. You could stare into his eyes forever. He gently wiped away a tear, a smile appearing on his face. And then you both moved closer.

Your lips touched and suddenly you were kissing him.

Fireworks exploded inside of you. His lips were soft against yours and his fingers slid into your hair as he pulled you even closer. You kissed him hard with every feeling and emotion you had. He kissed you just as hard, massaging your lips with his.

While it was only seconds in real life, it felt like you were kissing him for hours. When you finally pulled away, you were breathless. Joe's eyes were sparkling and his smile returned. You smiled back before speaking.

"It's you." You were surprised with how soft your voice sounded. Joe ran his fingers through your hair again.

"It's you."

After a few seconds, you shifted to cuddle into his side. His arm snaked behind you and he pulled you tight against him. Your head settled against his chest. His hand ran up and down your arm, and you immediately relaxed at the gesture. You felt warm, safe, and happy. One last tear fell as you sighed deeply.

"CUT!" And just like that, the spell was broken. "Amazing work, you two! Let's reset and do it again in a few minutes!"

Joe still hadn't let go of you. And you weren't protesting. Especially since you knew it would be a few minutes until they were ready to start rolling again. You savored the moment, never wanting him to let you go. Neither of you spoke or moved. You debated saying something. As much as you wanted to stay there forever, you wanted to ask why he hadn't let you go yet. Not wanting to ruin the moment, you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Joe didn't release you from his embrace until the makeup artist appeared to touch you both up.

You did the scene a few more times. Each kiss was just as powerful as the first. Julia sang down praises endlessly, only offering small tweaks for each take. And after a few more takes, Julia gathered everyone around. You stood by Joe, who still hadn't spoken outside of his lines.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that is officially a wrap on Agape!" The entire crowd applauded as Julia continued her speech. She thanked the crew for their hard work and patience throughout the shoot. And then she turned to you and Joe.

"And a huge thank you to my two stars, who took two characters who are close to my heart and brought them to life. They put everything into their performances and I'm so thankful for them." The crowd cheered and clapped for the two of you this time. You thanked them all and thanked Julia for giving you the opportunity.

"Thanks again everyone, and we will see all of you tonight at the wrap party!" Julia shouted over the crowd.

The wrap party. Your last hoorah with the group before heading home.

You felt a hand land on the small of your back. You turned to find Joe.

"You're going to the party, right?" he asked, his face unreadable.

"Of course. How else am I going to sing drunken karaoke with you?" you replied, grinning like an idiot. Joe's face lit up and he shot a fist through the air.

"YES! Oh this is totally happening. And I'm not letting you back out this time!" Joe countered, pointing right at you while he walked in the direction of his trailer.

"I won't, I promise," you said with a giggle, already thinking about what song you were gonna sing with him.

#joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello #joemazzmatazz

[deobitchxx]

empty space — part one // yunseong.

words : 2,005

genre : angst, slight of fluff

summary : it has been years since both of you decided to end everything, but it wasn’t easy for yunseong to assume that you were just a part of his life. all he wished for was a happy ending with you as the main character in his life.

characters : hwang yunseong, slight mention of by9’s members and the other produce x 101’s trainees

“Move on, she’s just another part of your life that happened to come and never stayed. You are not necessarily to remember her and all the memories you both shared.” Leaving a soft comforting pat on Yunseong’s back, Yuvin then poured another shot of the wine.

Yunseong could only tight-lipped while taking another shot of the wines whenever the elders poured into his glasses. It has been years since both of you ended the relationship, why couldn’t Yunseong just live on and forget about you?

Yunseong just happened to be in a family full of chaebols, and of course being spoiled by his parents or relatives was something common for him. However, it was not in the same case for you.

You led an average life, in which you had to share your room with the other siblings. You didn’t come from a well-being family and the fact that you had to share the affections of your parents with other three siblings sickening you up.

The romance between you both bloomed when Yunseong changed his major to arts. Of course, there were a lot of questions going on why the science stream student suddenly changed his major. He went to sit next to a teenage girl, which happened to be empty at the moment.

“You can’t sit there though,” she stated as her left ear was still plugged with the earpod. Yunseong fluttered his eyelashes, “Why? This seat just happened to be the only empty one in this whole classroom.”

“Because it’s mine.”

Yunseong lifted up his head, eyes automatically made a contact with the beautiful ones. “Now would you move away? Class is starting in any minutes soon and I haven’t finished my homework yet.”

“O-Oh.”

Being obedient was not something usual for Yunseong, but this person, who happened to be you, just technically changed everything about him. Sticking the backpack near him, he stood up from the seat.

Both of you thought your interactions would only ended there, but not when things started to go smooth between you both.

“Who is Zhang Lu?”

“Lay Zhang?”

“Zhang Lu.”

“Cao Lu?”

Another heavy sigh could be heard from you, it was totally grieving you to think that you had to sacrifice your time teaching the basics things of arts to him.

Exams are around the corner and here you were, abandoning your time that supposed to revise back all the notes with this science stream student.

“It’s Zhang Lu. Z-H-A-N-G-L-U.” You then added, “He was a Chinese landscape painter during the Ming Dynasty. He painted landscapes and human figures in a free and uninhibited style.”

“Why.. do we have to study about him?” The male one turned to face you, expression totally explained how complicated he was adjusting himself with the art world.

You lifted an eyebrow and tapped the book with your mechanical pencil, “Do you think that we, art stream students only learn how to draw?”

“Isn’t that’s the purpose?”

With a grimace, following up with a low groan, you tapped the book again. Hoping that you would gain the attention you needed from that young man named Yunseong.

“We also study the history of arts and slight philosophy arts. How dare you to underestimate us, yikes.”

“I didn’t underestimate..”

“Yeah yeah, sure you didn’t. Geez.” You decided to call it a day, so you were packing all of the stuff that belonged to you into your backpack as a hand tightly gripped around your wrist, stealing your attention.

“Do.. you perhaps want to grab a coffee?” Yunseong asked, almost inaudible. You furrowed your eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”

“I sa-”

“Can’t you speak louder? I’m having trouble listening to you.”

“I SAID WOULD YOU GRAB A COFFEE WITH ME.”

The entire library went extreme quiet as the other residents took turns facing both of you. Some even had the balls to huss both of you. You apologised to them politely before slapping Yunseong on the arm softly, trying not to make any more sounds.

“You’re being too loud!”

Puffing out his lower lip, he sucked in the oxygen and mumbled, “You’re the one who told me to speak louder..”

“Argh fine fine, let’s just go grab your coffee.”

Well, you thought it would end with both of you ordered the choices of your coffee and go back home— But not for this young man. He insisted you to rest and sit at the cafe shop with him.

“I told you I can pay for it.” Yunseong aggressively shook his head as a no, “I don’t let girls pay whenever they go out with me.”

You snorted and poked the straw into the hole of the cup, taking a sip of your cold coffee. “What a gentleman.”

“All thanks to my mom!” The elder one giggled while sipping his own coffee as well. You just glanced over him and let out a slight giggle.

“However, why did you decide to change your major? We only have two years left to study, it would be hard for you to catch up.”

“I just feel like I should choose my own path.”

“You like arts?”

Yunseong shook his head again in disagreement, “I never take an interest in the arts.”

“Then? Did you really underestimate this beautiful world of arts?” You furrowed your eyebrows, can’t seem to understand his real intention of changing his major to art.

“I just didn’t want to live in my parents’ expectations. I wanted to choose my own path, and I decided to take arts.”

“You can take others like programming—”

“I said, I wanted to take my own path.”

Pursing your lips, you looked away while mumbling, “Geez. How cold,” as you were playing with your straw.

“I heard that.”

“Well, that’s great then! I don’t have to repeat twice,” you plastered a cheeky smile on your face before placing the cup back on the table.

You might sounded annoying to others but to him, you were way better than that or anything related with negative attitudes. He didn’t know how and since when, but one thing for sure was, he got his heads all over you.

He wished a happy ending for both of you, marrying each other and staying at both sides until you both have grown old. Witnessing the toddlers of your children running in the backyard, while both of you were sitting at the swinging chair made of rattan on the porch.

“Just move on, it’s your birthday and you should forget her.” Sejin added, as Jinhyuk nodded and supported him. “What Sejin and Yuvin said was true, just accept the reality. We know you’re better than this.”

No, they didn’t know. The phrase ‘move on’ might seem easy for them to speak it out, but it was not something easy for Yunseong to apply in his daily life.

Every morning he wakes up from his bed, he would expect another message from the ex. He would witness the frames that displayed their pictures whenever he goes to his own bathroom.

He will end his every night with scrolling back all the messages both exchanged. Oh, how cute those messages were, including those sweet emoticons both of you shared. It was so easy back then, in the past, to exchange such messages.

However, in these days, it just seemed so hard for him to send a message to you. Even a letter would asked for million of courages from the latter.

“Oh look, I’ve prepared them for you!”

A group of young women approached them as Yunseong lifted his head to face them. They are beautiful, sexy and elegant. But none.

None can replace the empty space in his heart.

“So is this that young handsome man? The birthday boy?” One of them went closer to Yunseong and sat next to him, hands started to play its roles as she caressed his arms slowly.

He just ignored her and took another sip of his wine, earning a displeasure exchanges from the others. Jungmoo nudged Yuvin on the arm and whispered, “I told you it wouldn’t work!”

It was Yuvin’s idea to celebrate Yunseong’s birthday at the club that he shared with his friend, Kookheon. He thought that at least one of the hostesses might make Yunseong forgets his emo side. At least one—

“Would you like to dance?” The young woman, who introduced herself as Charlotte, insisted to make Yunseong better as hands were still on his arms.

The other members realised the sudden change of expression on Yunseong as they thought he was getting uncomfortable with the atmosphere.

“Cha—”

“Sure, why not.” Yunseong turned to his right side, flashing a quick smile to the hostess.

Charlotte sheepishly smiled back to Yunseong and held his wrist, “Then what should we wait for?”

And that was how Yunseong ended up on the dance floor. His body swung to the beats as Charlotte was dancing in-front of him, purposely displayed her back to him as she swung her hips close to his thigh.

After all, Yunseong is a man as well. His hormones would still be the same with other men. Holding Charlotte’s hips, he dragged her closer to his body and whispered to her ears.

“Your hips looks so amazing.”

The corner of her lips raised up, as she turned around to face the latter one and wrapped her arms around Yunseong’s neck. “Oh really? You just saw 10% of my hips.”

“We can see the rest 90% tonight.” Batting his eyes at her, her cheeks were now reddening and it was so obvious that she liked it.

“Sure, why don’t we?” She leaned closer, tip-toed to reach the male’s lips.

Yunseong’s lips formed a quick smirk as his arms were wrapped around her tiny waist, not wanting to let her escaped from his sight. As he leaned down, their lips met each other.

However, it was not like how Yunseong would kiss you. It started off so rough, the hostess was begging for dominance inside his lips, trying to slide her tongue with his.

This Yunseong wasn’t the Yunseong that you dated. As soon as they pulled off to gasp for air while pressing their foreheads together, a sight of yours were in-front of him.

“This is the reason why I hate you.”

His heart skipped a beat, obviously not because of flustered but how the words affected him. He blinked his eyes and rubbed them, hoping to see a clearer vision.

“Baby? Are you alright?”

Another feminie voice could be heard and that voice belonged to Charlotte. “Are you fine? You seemed so off.”

“I— I’m sorry but I must be out of my mind.” Yunseong immediately released all the grip he had on her, causing her to back a little while facing him.

“I— I’ll take my leave first.”

Yunseong’s figure became smaller and smaller until it was officially gone from her sight. She could only smirk with the situation she was stuck in as she muttered under her breath, “He really loves her.”

Well, he really does. Inserting the key into the ignition and twisted them, he didn’t realise how quick he was as his foot aggressively shifting into gear. He didn’t even put on his seatbelts. With his state of almost drunk, he might get into a car accident.

Or the least was getting caught by the police on duty. Despite all of that, he still managed to arrive at the destination without any worries.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you there? Open the door!”

Slamming the door while twisting the doorknob clockwise and anticlockwise, at least he was hoping to get your attention from inside.

His hard efforts never betrayed him as the door knob was twisted clockwise from the inside, as his blurry vision due to the amount of alcohol he had managed to capture your figure.

“Yunseong-ssi..”

“I miss-”

“Who’s out there?”

A male suddenly appeared out of nowhere from the back, standing close to you before taking a quick glance over the ‘visitor’ they had.

Just— a visitor.

#yunseong #hwang yunseong #woolim project 4 #short story #w project 4 #produce x 101 #angst #fluff #omg this is so worst pls forgive me #scenarios #producex101 scenarios #yunseong scenarios #yunseong imagines #imagines

[taww]

Review: Silverline SR17 Supreme loudspeaker

Silverline SR17 Supreme loudspeaker

The Audiophile Weekend Warrior (TAWW)

TAWW Rating: 5 / 5

Combining the body and scale of a larger speaker with traditional mini-monitor virtues, the SR17 Supreme is an exceptional conveyor of musical color and expression.

PROS: Organic midrange tone; top-to-bottom coherence; ample scale and dynamics; superb imaging; unfussy setup.

CONS: Smidge of lower midrange coloration; favors acoustic over electronic music; awkward recessed terminals.

This review has been a long time coming. Back in 2010, @mgd-taww​ gave the Silverline SR17 Supreme (USD $7,500) a rave review in Bound for Sound magazine, and heartily recommended them to me as an upgrade to my Merlin TSM speakers. It took me 8 years and a move to the West Coast to finally reach out to Silverline for a review pair; then another 15 months of listening to get around to this review. In the meantime, lots of speakers have come and gone in the market, particularly in the 2-way monitor category saturated with offerings at every conceivable price point. And yet, to my ears, the SR17 Supreme endures as one of the most satisfying speakers of its kind. Read on for my take on how it’s withstood the test of time.

History & Design

Silverline is a small speaker manufacturer based out of Walnut Creek, California, a short drive northeast of San Francisco. The SR17 is one of their first models dating back to a couple years after their incorporation in 1996:

1998: The SR17 debuted at the 1998 Stereophile Show in LA, sporting a Dynaudio D28/2 tweeter and Esotec 17WLQ midwoofer.

1999: Updated with an Esotec D260 tweeter and revised crossover.

2004: The SR17.5 was introduced, with increased internal volume via a deeper cabinet for better bass response.

2009: The SR17 Supreme is introduced with an Esotar T330D tweeter and further refinements.

Proprietor/designer/craftsman Alan Yun has continued tweaking the Supreme over the last decade, and though the Dynaudio drivers he prefers are out of production he’s stockpiled enough units for years of production and repairs. The enclosure, recognizable by its trapezoidal shape and depth, is manufactured in China by a shop that does cabinet work for a number of high-end marques, with final assembly performed by Alan’s own hand. He shared a bit more about their production:

California has strict environmental regulations. The paints on cabinets are governed by strict rules, and is why there are fewer and fewer cabinet makers in California. Many manufacturers now find their production overseas.

Actually our cabinets were rawly made in China, painted, and the final detailing is done by me, also putting sonic materials inside the cabinets. This job is pretty tricky for tweaking the sound. The crossovers were handmade by me, matching components, soldering, etc. The drivers were fitted carefully and precisely by my hands with European-made T-15A screws. Final testing and listening are all done by me in my workshop. 😅 Therefore, the SR 17 is rather unique. I am also the original designer of this shape/type of speaker cabinet since 1996. I did research and to the best of my knowledge there were no similar designs then.

Large, but not ungainly, atop Dynaudio Stand 6′s

The depth of the cabinet - 15 inches, to be exact - gives it a rather top-heavy look on a typical stand, but it’s mitigated by the elegant tapered profile. My pair was impeccably finished on all sides in rosewood veneer. Rapping down the sides revealed it to be very solid, but not as fanatically braced and damped as my old Merlin TSM monitors or the Audiovector SR 1. Each speaker weighs around 26 lbs. The bi-wire terminals are recessed, which made them a bit of a pain, particularly as they have larger rectangular posts that will take 1/4" spades only in certain directions - I recommend banana terminations.

The crossover sports just 4 components, with 1st order high-pass (tweeter) and 2nd order low-pass (woofer) filters. Parts quality - Solen metallized polypropylene capacitors, a generic-looking wirewound resistor and an air-core inductor - is solid but hardly fancy, a deliberate decision by Alan who isn’t much of a believer in expensive boutique parts. Based on the results he’s achieved here, it’s hard to argue.

Cardas jumpers sounded better than the stock bridges to my ears. Stick with bananas for the cable termination - spades are awkward.

Setup

The SR17 is fairly efficient (nominally 90.5 dB/watt @ 8 ohms), but more importantly it's easy to drive - my Ayre AX7e, known for being rather limited in the power delivery department, sounded open and effortless. Alan Yun said the Dynaudio drivers love current and will benefit from powerful amplifiers, yet will sing with low-powered tube amps. I can confirm it loved the grunt of the 300wpc Bryston 4B Cubed, yet I never felt lower-power amps like the Ayre or Bryston B60 integrateds were lacking for dynamics. And my favorite pairing by far was with the 55-watt Valvet A4 Mk.II class A monoblocks sporting a single pair of bipolar output devices. (Incidentally, Alan’s favorite amp paring with the SR17 is the 30-watt Pass Labs XA30.5, which @mgd-taww can attest to being a magical combo.)

Similarly, I found the SR17 easy-going when it came to cables. My preferred cable had more to do with the amp used, but I got good results from a single run of Audience Au24 SX [review], Cardas Clear Light and DH Labs Q10 Signature cables. With the Audience, I felt the speaker was the sweetest and most dimensional; the DH Labs brought out more bass power and treble brilliance; while the Cardas brought out more upper midrange presence. With the Bryston 4B3 amp, I settled on the Cardas; with the Ayre and Valvet, the Audience was the clear winner. Unlike with the Audiovector SR 1 Avantgarde Arreté (review forthcoming), I didn't find bi-wiring to lend a noticeable improvement, but I did prefer replacing the stock metal jumpers with nicer Cardas ones from my Merlin TSM's for a little more refinement.

As with any high-quality monitor, stands are important. Something around 24-25” height seems right, though I wouldn’t be afraid to sit them an inch or two lower as the speakers are capable of projecting good image height. A trend these days is to decouple speakers from the stands/floor, but the SR17’s are “old school” in that they prefer tight coupling, meaning heavy suckers with spikes and a judicious amount of BluTack on the top plate. My old Osiris stands, heavy dual-column steel beauties loaded with sand, were a perfect match, but sadly I sold them with my Merlin TSM’s; they were replaced by higher-WAF but inferior-sounding Dynaudio Stand 6’s, which in stock form are quite light and choked the sound of the Silverlines. Fortunately I was able to get them to a better place with some tweaks; not as good as the Osiris, but close. A better choice sonically might be something like the Target Audio MR stand with the four pillars mass-loaded.

Pulling them out further improves imaging, but they still work well relatively close to the back wall.

Placement was pretty standard for a monitor speaker - keep it at least a couple feet from the back wall, with a 2:3 width-to-listener distance ratio and toed in about halfway. In my room, which has a number of living constraints, I had the back of the speaker about 21” from the wall, tweeters 76” apart and the plane of the speaker 8 ft. from my ears. While many small-box monitors rely (often excessively) on rear ports for low-end boost, the bass tuning on the SR17 is far more subtle and sophisticated - putting my ear to the port, I heard a fairly modest amount of output. I remarked this to Alan, and he described the port as more a method of pressure equalization than bass volume. This means in a pinch I could push the speakers as close as 12" from the wall without fear of low notes booming out of control. All in all, for being such a high-performing design, the SR17 is remarkably easy to live with.

The Sound

The first thing my wife, a professional oboist, noticed about music through the SR17 is how dynamically alive it was. I had just wrapped up my review of the Silverline Minuet Grand, a superb $2k speaker that is no dynamic slouch itself. And even though the SR17 was fresh out of the box and Alan warned me it would take some time to run in, the very first notes from the SR17 sung with expressiveness and vibrance. I think it took all of 15 minutes of listening to Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra streaming radio for her to remark, “I like this speaker.” She’s normally nonchalant about hi-fi, and yet has ears that can pick apart sonic deficiencies in about 90 seconds, so that amounts to a rave! And what made it so immediately engaging wasn't some artificial emphasis or hype; it was a feeling of unimpeded dynamic flow that makes most other speakers sound a bit drab. The SR17 lets music breath freely, carrying you with the ebb and flow of a tune and conveying every turn of a phrase with a sense of ease and conviction.

The next thing we noticed is how natural and palpable everything sounds through the SR17. Tonally, the SR17 is on the very slightly warm side of neutral; it combines reassuring solidity and density from the mid-bass through the midrange with an open, extended top end and fine harmonic resolution. Its ability to paint with a wide palette of tonal colors brings out the distinctive character of instruments and voices, making orchestral music a delight - just put on a Living Stereo recording such as Debussy’s Iberia [Tidal, Qobuz, Spotify] and the front of your room will explode with the virtuosity of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s playing. Scale it down to smaller stuff like a Beethoven string quartet, and you’ll savor the finer gradations of timbre between the cello, viola and violin.

What you won’t notice is any discontinuity between the woofer and tweeter. These Dynaudio drivers were made to work together, and the minimal crossover mating them is superbly executed. The upper midrange around the crossover point is seamless, and I can’t remember a single moment over the course of hundreds of hours of listening when I noticed the tweeter sticking out on the face of the speaker, something that ails even the finest, most expensive dynamic speakers from time to time. In this respect the SR17 is up there with the very best and is utterly free of listening fatiguing.

As a violinist, I feel obliged to point out the Silverline’s superb reproduction of the violin G string. If you ever want to test out a speaker’s tonal truthfulness in the lower midrange (right around middle C, 262Hz), put on the 2nd movement of the Glazunov violin concerto performed by Jascha Heifetz [Tidal, Qobuz, Spotify], or the 2nd movement of the Sibelius concerto performed by Lisa Batiashvili [Tidal, Spotify]. This is oh-so-tricky to get right; as the lowest string on the instrument, it’s the richest and deepest; and yet the violin is not a viola or cello - it’s a more subtle and delicate richness. Speakers that lack body will sound thin and washed out and minimize the difference in timbre vs. the D string above; woolly or bloated speakers will thicken it or blow the instrument out of proportion. The SR17 performs this balancing act better than anything I’ve heard in my living room, or in most any system for that matter. It rides the line between warmth and clarity in that register, lending tangible realism to piano, male vocals and low brass instruments as well.

Going down the frequency range, the SR17’s extra cabinet volume vs. a typical mini monitor gives it power and scale more akin to a floorstander. My room is a 17 x 19 x 8.5 ft. open layout living/kitchen area with floor-to-ceiling windows and an offset listening point along the long wall, so while not huge, it presents a bit of an acoustic challenge that smaller speakers have struggled to fill. The SR17 had no trouble projecting a big, bold sonic image, and can cleanly play as loud as you’d reasonably want in such a space. It has sufficient body and power down to 60Hz or so to give music real foundation, with meaningful output down to 40Hz. I think Silverline’s quoted 32Hz bottom limit is a bit optimistic (or perhaps you just need the right room), and I preferred the speaker with my REL T-9 subwoofer providing a little extra oomph. But for a great many listeners in moderately-sized spaces, this will be all the speaker you ever need. Listening to “The Elephant” from Saint-Saëns Carnival of the Animals [Tidal, Qobuz, Spotify], a track I’ve heard on some very full-range speakers (e.g. Focal Grande Utopia EM Evo), the double bass is big and present, lacking a bit of rumble that was easily provided by flipping on the REL sub. Piano left hand similarly has nice weight, never sounding diminished in scale as typically happens on small monitors. Debussy’s Ariettes oubliées song cycle from the album Paysages by soprano Susanna Phillips and pianist Myra Huang [Tidal, Spotify] is a lovely test of colors, with ethereal vocals floating above dark undertones from the piano’s lower register. The Silverline possesses suficient extension and body to bring out these contrasts with depth and balance.

At the opposite end, the old-school Esotar tweeter is still one of the most musical high frequency transducers around. It balances detail with smoothness, extends low enough to mate perfectly with the woofer, and never sounds strained - a substantial upgrade in resolution and realism over the typical metal or silk domes in lesser speakers. In top-end extension and speed it might be bettered by some of the newfangled devices like Focal’s beryllium or B&W’s diamond domes, Scanspeak’s latest Revelator or the fantastic AMT in the Audiovector SR 1, but it’s a relatively small sin of omission and a worthwhile trade off to avoid any hint of unnatural edge or ringing. And it still has plenty of sharpness and sparkle, lending nice bite to trumpets and sheen to triangles and cymbals.

Last but not least, there’s that soundstage - present and tactile, but never in-your-face. Particularly when coupled with gear with sufficient resolution to relay subtle ambient information, e.g. the Pass XP10 preamp, there’s a real sense of the layout and layers of a symphony orchestra. The hi-res LSO Live recording of Mendelssohn’s "Reformation" Symphony with the London Symphony/Gardiner [Tidal, Qobuz, Spotify] paints a vivid picture of the stage of the Barbican, with brass fanfares anchored closer to the back wall of the fan-shaped stage, and the smaller string section sounding up front and intimate. An interesting twist in this performance is Sir Gardiner had the violinists standing to emphasize the virtuosity of Mendelssohn’s writing, and while I can’t say I would have been able to tell this from listening alone, the Silverline does convey a subtle sense of freedom and space to the violin section that I’ve missed when listening to the recording on other systems. And it has no trouble imaging well outside the bounds of the speaker, with percussion and harp on the extreme left of the stage floating eerily behind and beyond the left speaker.

I think my wife put it best when I asked her one day how the system sounded with the Silverlines: “this is what I imagine it sounded like in the concert hall.” While I’ve broken down a bunch of its strengths in audiophile terms above, it’s the way it puts everything together into a musically vivid whole that makes it special. There’s an evenness of tone, a naturalness of perspective, an ease of dynamic expression, a consistency of refinement from top to bottom that gives music a sense of rightness that allows one to forget the hi-fi aspects and focus on the musical performance. In this respect, Alan Yun has crafted something truly masterful in the SR17 Supreme.

Caveats & Comparisons

I’ll nitpick a few things that were relatively minor deficiencies to my ears, but may weigh more heavily for people with different tastes. These were highlighted in my own home by direct comparison with another very fine monitor speaker, the Audiovector SR 1 Avantgarde Arreté ($6,200 in premium finish). I also have my long-term reference, the Merlin TSM-MXe (around $6k several years ago) as a baseline.

First off, I suspect the Silverline’s hint of lower midrange warmth, while sounding natural and consonant with much of my favored acoustic music, may come from a bit of otherwise well-controlled cabinet resonance. It gently highlights the woody quality of acoustic instruments, but with electronic music it comes across as a slight coloration - a bit like wearing orange-tinted sunglasses that make everything look a little less cool. It’s very subtle, and not enough to sound overtly “boxy” or throw voices off, but it’s not transcendentally-clean like the Audiovector or, say, a Magico. My sense is Alan wisely tuned the SR17 cabinet for this response, as additional bracing would just make the resonance peakier and higher in frequency where the ear is more sensitive; as it is, it’s a gentle and diffuse coloration. Part of this may also be the sonic signature of the Esotec woofer’s magnesium silicate polymer cone, which I’ve heard in a number of speakers and to my ears trades better damping for a hair less crispness vs. some of the fancier treated paper or composite cones out there. On the plus side, it never sounds dry as some of those drivers can, but with Erlend Øye’s Unrest [Tidal, Qobuz, Spotify] or Carley Rae Jepsen’s Emotion [Tidal, Qobuz, Spotify] I found the Audiovector conveyed more of hard-wired immediacy and edge suitable for those albums. 

Taking turns with the Audiovector SR 1 Avantgarde Arreté

Another area where the Audiovector came out slightly ahead of the Silverlines was in resolution during loud dynamic peaks. The Audiovector is truly special in this regard, being designed for minimal signal compression and sounding incredibly collected the louder you play them. The Silverline also plays loudly with ease, but vs. the über-clean Audiovector it’s very slightly thicker and more congested. Case in point are the fortissimo climaxes and interruptions in Rossini’s L’italiana in Algeri overture [Tidal, Spotify] - when the orchestra comes crashing in after the pianissimo pizzicato opening, both speakers are clean and explosive, but the Audiovector sorts out the different instruments playing in unison for that brief moment a hair better, while the Silverline has more low-end oomph.

As mentioned prior, the Silverline’s superb Esotar tweeter isn’t the state-of-the-art in extension. It has plenty of resolution, but if you favor extremely extended and airy highs, e.g. the 52kHz-rated AMT tweeter in the Audiovector will give you more of that. I don’t think that ultimately matters so much for musical enjoyment (and many people can’t hear very well above 10kHz anyway), but it does make a subtle difference in realism. It also makes the Silverline’s treble a bit more forgiving of poor recordings and upstream components (silver cables could work) - it’ll never, ever burn your ears off.

The $7,500 price tag of the Silverline puts it squarely above the very crowded $5k-and-under monitor crowd, but short of the $10k+ “super monitor” category. Comparisons with other speakers are more conjecture on my part as I haven’t heard them in my own room... but I’ll mention a few things I’ve gotten a good listen to at shows, dealers, and other people’s systems.

Paradigm’s Persona series seems to be mentioned quite frequently in audio forums these days, and I heard the Persona B monitor ($7,000) briefly at RMAF. I’ve also listened to the floorstanding Persona 3F a bit, and there’s definitely a common house sound - fast, crisp, detailed and dynamic. I’ve never warmed up to either of them - they’ve struck me as rather strident, with instrumental interplays like oboes and clarinets playing in harmony tending to sound compressed. The Silverline by comparison may sound a bit thicker, but it has far more natural instrumental timbre to my ears, is less bright and thus easier to match to more systems, throws a more dimensional and properly-placed soundstage, and is very nearly as “fast” without sounding edgy. I’m honestly at a loss as to why the Personas are garnering so much praise, so maybe it’s just me? A similar argument could be made for the B&W 805 S3 ($6,000) - while I haven’t auditioned them specifically, I’m pretty familiar with the 800-series sound and again, it’s not my cup of tea. The Silverline’s balance and openness just strike me as much more natural than anything I’ve heard from B&W. So if the likes of B&W and Paradigm leave you a bit cold, the SR17 Supreme might be a step in the right direction.

An obvious comparison is to Dynaudio’s own bookshelves, specifically the Contour 20 ($5,000) and Special Forty ($2,995). You can read about them in my quick review from a dealer audition, and while I haven’t heard them head-to-head, I posit that the Silverline a worthwhile step up in coherence and musicality. If you can’t stretch the budget for the Silverline I think the Special Forty would be a good alternative, but it does not have the near-reference level neutrality of the Silverline. In the past Dynaudio had a bit of a reputation for not being as good at implementing their own drivers in complete loudspeakers as other companies were, and while I think their latest efforts are much improved, Alan Yun still seems to be squeezing more out of the old Esotar/Esotec drivers in the SR17... methinks this is a reflection of Alan’s sharp ear and painstaking hand-tuning.

A few more offhandish observations based on extremely limited auditions, so take with a block of salt: I heard the Wilson Audio TuneTot ($9,800) at a dealer shortly after its release. With the caveats that it’s designed for a totally different use case, it was in an unfamiliar setup and this pair wasn’t fully run in, I didn’t find it nearly as compelling or expressive. I got a good listen to the TAD Micro Evolution One ($12,495) with a couple different amps and found its midrange rather dry, upper midrange a bit peaky and its bass lacking fullness and extension vs. the Silverline. The Artist Cloner Rebel Reference ($16k w/stands) wowed me at RMAF - it seemed to have more speed and resolution than the Silverline, though the upper midrange was a hair pronounced. It would be an interesting comparison, even at twice the price. Another interesting monitor at RMAF was the Stenheim Alumine Two ($13k) which was super clean and detailed, but perhaps not as liquid. A more logical competitor/upgrade could be the Sonus faber Electa Amator III ($10k) that I also heard at RMAF. That speaker absolutely blew me away with its expressiveness, natural richness, insane dynamics and huge presentation in the show setup. It’s the speaker that I’m most dying to compare to the Silverline.

And to wrap up the comparison to my Merlins and the Audiovectors - I sold my beloved Merlins shortly after receiving the Silverlines, and wound up purchasing both the Silverlines and the Audiovectors as I just couldn’t decide between the two. That should give you an idea of just how much I like them both; I’ll have more to say about the Audiovector in a forthcoming review.

Verdict

It's been said speakers mirror the personality of their designers, and if you've met the talented and affable Alan Yun no doubt you’ll feel his influence. Much like the man behind it, the SR17 Supreme is sharp, earnest and engaging, yet easy-going, with an unforced warmth and great attention to detail. There’s something grounded and unfussy about the way it allows music to flow forth, feeling like it's taken an expressive limiter off of a recording without hyping it in any way. It checks off many of the audiophile boxes too - imaging, tonal balance, bass power and extension, etc. etc. - but focusing on those mechanical aspects, as excellent as they are, would be selling Alan’s accomplishment short. The SR17 Supreme is first and foremost a faithful and thoroughly enjoyable reproducer of music, one capable of strongly evoking the beauty of the original musical event. There are countless 2-way monitors superficially like this one, but few that I know that are so meticulously and lovingly tuned to such great effect.

I've spent a lot of words espousing this speaker, but I think it's deserving of it, not just because of the obvious quality of the product, but because Silverline is a small manufacturer flying under the radar without a big dealer network or advertising budget. While Alan continues to develop his entry-level Minuet and Prelude lines at a more rapid pace to keep up with market demands, he doesn’t pen up new versions of his reference models every couple years to generate hype. He’s instead chosen his design fundamentals wisely and focused on perfecting their execution through years of painstaking refinement, much as the late Bobby Palkovic @ Merlin Music did. Like Bobby, he has a great ear for music, does a lot of the production work himself, and gains most of his sales through word of mouth. This does make it trickier to find than the big brands at a typical shop, but I strongly encourage seeking out an opportunity to hear it. The SR17 Supreme is a special speaker, and it won't be leaving my living room any time soon.

Silverline Audio P.O. Box 30574 Walnut Creek, CA 94598 USA

#audiophile #audio #hifi #loudspeaker #speaker #review

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

#happy birthday evermore my beloved #note: low-streamed ts songs still have crazy streaming numbers #note: “low streamed” is a RELATIVE phrase #e.g. It's Time to Go is the lowest streamed track on Evermore but it still has +90m streams #i can't choose between coney island and cowboy like me and happiness #if i was held at gun point i would choose coney island #this is written in ascending order of streams #taylor swift #taylorswift #ts #coney island #its time to go #cowboy like me #the eras tour #taylor swift poll #swiftie polls #fearless #reputation #lover #midnights #evermore #red tv #debut #taylor swift 1989 #1989 taylor's version #fandom polls #polls #tumblr polls #long story short #marjorie

[snootysith]

Chapter 3 (2/?) Note: Dinnertime yikes.

@fluffynexu and @chivalin chapter 1 chapter 2 Chapter 3 - part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Vowrawn’s eyes fell shut. 

Noticing his less than captivated listener had finally forfeited the act altogether, Gravus’s rant came to a halt over the holocomm speakers. “What is it?” he asked annoyed. 

“I sense...” Vowrawn’s voice trailed off into a thoughtful hum and he stroked his facial tendril. Over his many years, he had accumulated an impressive web of Force bonds. Some were stronger than others, older and well-entrenched, easy to perceive. Some were simply too fresh and allowed intruders to slip by... like this very moment. 

Gravus grumbled low under his breath but otherwise allowed him to concentrate in relative peace. Unfortunately, the unfamiliar presence left as quickly as it came. A flare of uglier emotions threatened to crack Vowrawn’s mask but he mustered a thin smile and opened his eyes. “Ah... it's nothing.”

“Nothing? You're losing your touch.”

An insult sat on the tip of Vowrawn's tongue but after a moment’s thought he swallowed it. Beneath ice and chiseled stone, burned Gravus’s heart that, in their youth, easily gave way to unfettered passion that was channeled in war and love in equal measure. Or what felt like love. Vowrawn’s hand still lingered over Gravus’s heart but as time past he had slowly but surely begun to push away from it. He wondered if Gravus ever noticed. Neither of them dwelled on what they shared but one thing had become apparent: however much Gravus endeared him, he still kept him on his toes. 

It would have been easier to confide in Marr. 

“How is your back?” Vowrawn asked instead, plucking his teacup from its saucer. 

Gravus gave a dismissive grunt.

“Are the spinal implants giving you trouble? Any negative feedback between your cybernetics?”

“Don't start. I don't need you coddling me.”

Vowrawn snorted into his teacup.

“Speaking of coddling... what’s become of that boy? How long do you intend to withhold my dinner invitation?”

“You couldn't find a single person to warm your bed?”

“Appetizers. I’ve been waiting months for dessert.”

“These things take time,” Vowrawn said smoothly. “And you can hardly afford to spend time with us when you still don't have an apprentice. There are only so many academies left, you know. Where did you say you were traveling this time? Odacer-Faustin?”

“Something like that.” Gravus's voice thinned to a brittle edge. “If Arctis doesn't uproot my headquarters again, that is.” 

“You've gotten out of worse entanglements.” Vowrawn gave a careless shrug. “And Arctis is hardly worth the trouble with Thanaton breathing down his neck. He’ll be out of your hair sooner than later.”

“I wouldn't have to contend with bureaucratic tripe if I was a Dark Councilor,” Gravus bit back.

Ah. This again. 

Ever since he ascended to his seat, Gravus had tugged at his robes and whined for his own like a spoiled child, well and truly testing the limit of Vowrawn's patience. Oh, he could very easily give him a seat if he deigned to spare the effort but it wouldn't be without consequence. Vowrawn fell in love with his wild ambition and he never doubted it would lead him to fall out of love eventually. Every lie and dirty secret he whispered to him as a foolish boy would be used against him. Then Vowrawn would have no choice but to extinguish his old flame. Permanently. 

For his own sake, Gravus must not ascend and Vowrawn went to great pains to ensure it. Like leaving mere scraps of acolytes in every academy. Like fanning the flames of his passion to keep him off-kilter.   

Like quietly leading Arctis in circles around him.

Vowrawn sipped his tea, tuning out of Gravus’s tirade and allowing his focus to scuttle up and down his network of Force bonds again. The intrusion still rankled. He looked forward to a very thorough distraction.

Alas...

“Why the long face, dear boy? Curry not to your liking?”

The gray cloud only followed him from his office to the dining room. 

Vowrawn rose to greet his favorite acolyte with a kiss, as had become a habit, when Cytharat inexplicitly flinched away. Something was wrong. The personality Vowrawn had so carefully lured out had retreated ten steps back into stiff propriety. 

Cytharat picked at his food without meeting Vowrawn’s eyes. “It’s delicious,” he said quietly. 

Distantly, Vowrawn wondered if there was something running rampant in the water. 

They ate in relative silence, broken now and then by spurts of gossip that merely elicited monosyllabic replies. It was excruciating, watching with thinning patience, as months of work shriveled with each passing minute. If Cytharat had any lingering doubts— and he had many before— Vowrawn put aside time to dispel them, promising power and connections, all things any Sith craved but all things disgraced Sith would die for. Cytharat ate out of his hand all too eagerly, surprising both of them when he took several initiatives that same day. 

A far cry from the young man before him now. What happened? 

Cytharat sighed. “My apologies, it’s only... saber practice. I... I’m afraid I’ve ruined the robes you gave me.”

Indeed, upon closer inspection Vowrawn noticed ashy discoloration littered across the pale fabric. "No need to apologize. They can be replaced." 

Cytharat smiled thinly and returned to pushing his vegetables around like a sullen child and— no, no. Perish the thought. He’d almost put himself in danger of feeling his age! Now that would have well and truly spoiled an appetite.  

“I thought we had an understanding,” Vowrawn said slowly. “Have I proven myself unworthy of your confidence?” Feigning hurt was far too easy but it still brought him a small measure of satisfaction at how quickly it earned him a response. Cytharat made a noise as though he'd been shot and Vowrawn lazily floated along a stream of apologies and clumsy assurances before stopping it with a press of his fingers. “There, there. You mean well. But what troubles you, troubles me. If you believe we cannot overcome this together then truly I have failed you.” 

Cytharat’s face crumpled and it seemed, for a moment, that he was ready to fling open the door to his secret, but fate contrived in that precise moment to reward Vowrawn with a slap on the wrist. 

For a man of his size, Qet was surprisingly light on his feet. So light that Cytharat didn't seem to realize he stood at his shoulder until Vowrawn looked directly at him. “Master,” he began. “Darth Gravus is—” 

Vowrawn couldn’t even muster surprise anymore. He held up a finger. “Is he dead? Is he dying?”

“No, he’s—”

“He’ll wish he was. Give me the comm, I will speak to him personally.”

Qet sighed. “Master, he’s here.”

Cytharat caught sight of Vowrawn’s narrow-eyed look before a shadow fell over him and a pair of unfamiliar hands came to rest on his shoulders. He tilted back and stared up at the face of Darth Gravus himself. Cytharat shivered under the cold sweep of his gaze, only finding his breath once his attention shifted to Vowrawn. 

The two of them exchanged a long look. 

“Have you no love for me?” Gravus asked, his voice swinging precariously between sincerity and mockery. “No plate to spare?”

Vowrawn’s fork lowered and hit the side of his plate with an soft ting, a crack of thunder in the deafening silence. “How very kind of you to drop by, old friend. Especially with almost no notice at all. I could have sworn you were supposed to be elsewhere. Right. Now."

Gravus finally released his hold on Cytharat and prowled to the other side of the table to take a seat for himself. “I don't recall ever confirming that.” He beckoned to a nearby servant with a crook of his finger. “You there. Fetch me a plate. I'm feeling peckish.”

The servant froze, eyes darting towards Vowrawn in a panic. Commanding the servants of one’s host without permission wasn’t done. It was highly irregular. Indecent. Cytharat knew this. Vowrawn knew this. And Gravus most assuredly knew this. Yet it came as a surprise when Vowrawn bowed to Gravus’s demand, his expression softening to exasperated fondness as he directed the servant to deliver a portion of spiced brog-and-vegetable stew to him. 

Five dinner courses later and there seemed to be no end in sight. 

The discussion inevitably turned to Cytharat’s family and though Vowrawn attempted to skim past the matter, Gravus was not so merciful. 

“I'm surprised you have a family to return to,” Gravus said. “Blood purges have transpired for lesser crimes.”

Cytharat went very still. “I... I beg your pardon?”

“Rotten luck, isn't it?” Gravus asked flippantly. “To wind up on the losing side of a power struggle. How does it feel to be the son of a traitor?”

Color drained from Cytharat’s face and his mouth opened and shut like a fish choking on air. The table gave a sudden almighty rattle and Gravus winced in pain as if he’d stubbed his toe— or as if a certain Dark Councilor had kicked him directly in the shins. It was not enough to deter him, however, merely bringing a smirk to his lips.

“I...” Cytharat’s voice quivered. “I was only a boy when it happened.”

“And your family still hasn’t lost their holdings? How curious. Sith tradition would have you thrown out into the street by association, no?”

“My mother...” Cytharat sank low in his chair under Gravus's gaze, twenty years worth of shame hanging from his neck like a weight. “Please, my lord, I don't—”

“Darth Gravus, won't you try the dip?” Vowrawn interrupted. “It’s delicious but might burn the tongue out of your mouth if you aren't careful.”

“I don't believe I asked for your opinion, old friend. I am asking for his. You should be turning attention to more important matters.”

“Oh?”

“A disturbance in the Force," Gravus said, his eyes level and unblinking. “Do you not sense it?”

Momentarily distracted, Cytharat stretched out his senses in search of it but Vowrawn had no such illusions. It was a simple, common phrase. One that he and Gravus employed regularly since their academy days; a code word telling the other to leave. No doubt Gravus wanted to judge Cytharat for himself without Vowrawn’s interference. A terrifying endeavor for the uninitiated. Gravus would surely tear Cytharat to pretty little pieces.

Vowrawn opened his mouth to object, to dismiss him with one sweep of a witty rejoinder, but then Gravus’s mouth twisted into a petulant little scowl and sentiment won out. “Must be the old relic acting up again.” He rose to his feet. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Don’t stop on my account.”

Gravus idly waved a hand. “By all means. I’ll take good care of your guest for you.”

“Do try to behave,” Vowrawn sighed, pretending to miss the flicker of panic in Cytharat’s eyes before the doors closed soundlessly behind him.

#a wild update appears #swtor #darth vowrawn #darth gravus #lord cytharat #star wars #the old republic #fic: the mark of a good sith #my fic

[rauthschild]

Failed United States Military Coup In Saudi Arabia Explodes Into Oil Market Declaration Of War

By: Sorcha Faal

A very concerning “You Could See This Coming From A Mile Away” new Security Council (SC) report circulating in the Kremlin today states that after Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman “arrested top Saudi royals for plotting with the Americans against the King”, a chill swept across the leadership in Saudi Arabia when security forces detained dozens of Interior Ministry officials, senior army officers and others suspected of supporting this coup attempt—and while rounding up these coup plotters, Crown Prince bin Salman turned his full wrath on the United States in what is being described as “the oil market equivalent of a declaration of war”—an all-out oil war that now sees Crown Prince bin Salman destroying OPEC as he floods the world with oil to crush US shale oil producers—the same US shale oil producers who were previously warned “need a miracle” if they have any hope of surviving the market bloodbath about to wash over them. [Note: Some words and/or phrases appearing in quotes in this report are English language approximations of Russian words/phrases having no exact counterpart.]

According to this report, the present crisis unfolding around the world began within the 60-year-old non-government organization known as the Organization Of The Petroleum Exporting Countries—more commonly known by its acronym OPEC, and sometimes OPEC+ when Russia participates in joint actions with its members—and in the OPEC+ configuration, sees its two largest oil producing nations being Russia and Saudi Arabia—a Russia that’s in a good position to withstand any oil price slump as its budget breaks even at a price of $42 a barrel and the Ministry of Finance has squirreled away billions-of-dollars in a rainy-day fund—as opposed to Saudi Arabia whose government is almost entirely dependent on oil to fund government spending, and the economic impact of any oil price slump will be immediate—and is the same Saudi Arabia that desperately needs another primary energy source in the relatively near future because it has nowhere near the amount of oil remaining that it has stated since the early 1970’s.

Over the past two months, however, this report details, China, the world’s largest importer of oil from OPEC+ nations, drastically cut its energy needs in response to the coronavirus outbreak—thus creating a global glut of unused oil that’s slashed its price to near 10-year lows—that then led OPEC, on 5 March, to announce that they had agreed to drastically cut oil production in order to stabilize its price—and agreement, however, OPEC made the day before Russia joined these talks.

Upon joining the now OPEC+ talks in Vienna-Austria on 6 March, this report explains, Russia pointed out to its members that the United States, in 2018, became the largest oil producer in the world—who just last month, also saw its net petroleum exports hitting their highest level ever recorded—is the same United States that has repeatedly placed sanctions on Russian oil and gas producers in attempts to take out one of their main competitors, to include their last month targeting the multi-billion-dollar Russian-German gas pipeline project Nord Stream II—as well as these American having placed oil sanctions on oil producing giants Venezuela and Iran—and is the same United States oil producing giant, that in spite of its global oil market manipulations, isn’t itself prepared to cut its own oil production to stabilize its price—as they insanely believed that the other oil producing nations in the world would just roll over for them—but which Russia told the OPEC+ members at this meeting it wasn’t going to do—thus igniting what is now being called an “Oil Price Armageddon”.  

In unleashing this “Oil Price Armageddon”, this report continues, Russia flat out told OPEC+ member nations that not only wouldn’t oil production be cut to stabilize its price so American oil producers can avert the inevitable doom awaiting them—because they have more than $200 billion of debt maturing over the next four years, starting with more than $40 billion in 2020—Russia is going to ramp up oil production to slash its price even further—the response to then saw the United States attempting a military coup in Saudi Arabia, as only by the Saudis drastically cutting oil production can the price be kept artificially high—but when this coup attempt failed yesterday, it saw Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman starting his own all-out oil war to destroy OPEC by flooding the world with oil to collapse its price even further—an all-out war that will see Saudi oil production likely to rise above 10 million barrels a day in April, from about 9.7 million a day this month—and who could raise oil production much higher if needed, even going to a record of 12 million barrels a day—thus causing some oil experts from around the world to say that “the time has come for Saudi Arabia and Russia to snatch the title of largest oil producing country from United States”—a target, however, that can’t be achieved without plunging crude oil prices below $40 a barrel which will force many US shale oil companies to shut down their operations.

American oil producers slamming into unsustainable “Debt Wall”…

…have already begun filing for bankruptcy in record numbers.

As is most often seen in an America where its citizens are repeatedly pummeled by mainstream propaganda leftist news media distorted headlines, like one today about the present crisis that hysterically says “Russia Yanks A Leg From U.S. Shale’s Three-Legged Stool”, this report concludes, President Donald Trump, at least, appears to facing it like one would expect the leader of the world’s largest oil producing nation to do—best exampled when after Trump was confronted with headlines say such true things as “Thousands Of Houston Jobs Could Be Cut If Oil Fails To Recover From Friday Plunge”, he sent out his top White House economic advisor Larry Kudlow to declare: “We are in the camp that wants timely and targeted micro-measures”—a declaration though couched within the economic turmoil being caused by the coronavirus, sees Trump unmistakably knowing that the targeted bailouts of his nation’s oil producers is rushing towards him—as his only other choice is war against Russia and Saudi Arabia to keep oil prices high—which one can’t imagine a businessman like him doing—but that doesn’t include the dangerous idiots in the US military and intelligence communities who just tried to stage a coup in Saudi Arabia—and one hopes Trump can regain control of before anything worse happens.    

[cienie-isengardu]

“My men”

My favorite parts of The Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth book are about preparation for the battle of Kothlis, the fight itself and the after-effects. I always loved how Anakin treats clone troopers; in almost all sources his relationship with clones is marked by mutual respect, and in some cases, a genuine fondness. And every time I re-read these parts from Gambit, the way Skywalker is addressing clone troopers catchs my attention. Because this is not only about how he talks about / with clones it’s the way he is thinking about them. Because this is the biggest difference between him and most of Jedi. Including Ahsoka.

Let’s talk a bit about her POV:

The crowded barracks mess hall erupted into muttering and exclamation. Force-sensing from habit, Ahsoka tasted the clones' swirling emotions. A little caution. A lot of excitement. At first she'd thought the Republic's clone soldiers welcomed battle because they had no choice - because they'd been genetically programmed to fight and not question that duty. But while that was an uncomfortable truth, one she found herself wrestling with more and more as the war dragged on, it was also true that most of the clones she knew enjoyed combat - and not because some Kaminoan scientist had tweaked a test tube and made sure they would. No. They enjoyed winning. Outsmarting the enemy. Liberating citizens who were being used as pawns by Count Dooku, and Nute Gunray, and the other shadowy leaders of the Separatist Alliance.

When Ahsoka came into barracks mess hall, she was force-sensing from habit her environment. Narrative wise, it makes sense she described people around her simple as “clones”, what is helping readers to know who is around her. One word, and we know the basic things (like info estabilished in movies). But then we see further part of Ahsoka’s POV / thoughts and she still think about Republic’s soldiers first and foremost as clones. “[...] it was also true that most of the clones she knew enjoyed combat [...]” instead of, I don’t know, most of men or soldiers? Because we - the readers - already know that she means clone troopers, so narrative-wise there wasn’t any need to point out once again that she is surrounded by clones.

Let’s look at another example:

"Ahsoka," Rex added, skewering her with his most direct, no-nonsense stare. "What's our ETA at Kothlis?"

She checked her almost infallible Jedi time-sense. "Twenty-three minutes, Captain."

"Ground assault's confirmed?"

"Not confirmed, but highly possible. If the Seps have beaten us there and started an invasion of Kothlis, General Kenobi will handle the counter-offensive while my Master and Shadow Company clear the skies."

Rex nodded. "That means you're with us? Good." His gaze swept the hall. "Then we need to gear up. Torrent Company-get to work!"

Within a heartbeat the mood changed again. Lingering anxiety and uncertainty disappeared in a wave of purposeful action as Rex's men began the familiar countdown to combat.

Because she couldn't help with that, because she couldn't do anything now but wait, Ahsoka got out of the way. She perched herself in a corner and tried, like Anakin, to calm herself with meditation. Which was fine, mostly-except one thought kept intruding, over and over.

May the Force be with us. And please, please, don't let my actions get any of these clones killed.

One more look at Ahsoka’s POV, Rex’s men sound much better, right? But then comes “don't let my actions get any of these clones killed”. Once again Ahsoka is thinking about troopers (she cares for!) first and foremost as a clones. It’s not “don't let my actions get any of these MEN killed” and as much as the word clone is not an insult in itself, its use here makes the Ahsoka’s prayer sounds a bit... offensive.

I’m not accusing Ahsoka for prejudice or sense of superiority - and if she even has a bit of these against clones, this is likely unconscious thing that she, as a ~14 years old teenager, learned in the environment in which she grew up. Which means Jedi Order. And let’s be honest, Jedi have that smugness sense of superiority about themselves. This trait is seen awfully lot in TCW and Legends!sources as well.

But Ahsoka is a kid thrown into war she wasn’t ready for, and her mind and awarness of her (and others!) behaviour is still forming up. So I don’t really hold these examples against her.

What can’t be said for Obi-Wan, an adult and supposedly so great Jedi:

"So," her Master added. "I guess now we head for Kothlis."

"Without further delay," said Master Kenobi. "Admiral?"

Yularen nodded, his face grave. Resigned now to what had to be done, no matter how hard he found it. "Agreed. And with any luck we'll beat Grievous to the punch and be waiting for him. Even the smallest advantage might make the difference for us." He toggled the comm button again. "Lieutenant Avrey? We have a mission."

While Yularen relayed battle group orders with staccato speed, Master Kenobi drew Anakin aside with a glance. "I suggest we play to our strengths on this one, Anakin," he said, his voice low. "If we do reach Kothlis and find that Grievous has stolen a march on us, it's likely we'll be looking at both air and ground assaults. Should that prove to be the case, I suggest you lead the fighter squadrons and I'll take care of the ground assault with Captain Rex and our clone trooper companies."

Maybe this is just for narrative purpose, but in-universe there weren’t(??) any other companies under Kenobi and Anakin’s permanent command beside the clone trooper ones. So why it’s so important to mark the fact that their army is made of clones? Or:

"Actually, Anakin, your task is relatively simple," said Obi-Wan. "Engage the enemy and keep on shooting his ships out of the sky until none is left."

Simple? Yeah, right. Although, being coldly dispassionate, Obi-Wan wasn't too far off the mark, come to think of it. "Fine. But what about you?"

"Using the fighters as cover, the clones and I will run Grievous's gauntlet in gunships, make atmospheric entry, and insert on the ground. Kothlis has only two points of interest-the capital, Tal'cara, and the spynet facility on the city's northwest outskirts. We'll target those two areas first and see what happens once they're secured." Obi-Wan looked at Yularen. "Unless you can think of a better plan, Admiral."

"Clones and I”? Is that hard to call them men / troopers / soldiers? We know already that you have clone trooper companies, thank you for reminder, it’s so easy to forget who fight for Republic in CLONE wars.

Indomitable was under way, ponderously heading for Kothlis, flanked by her sister cruisers and trusting to Anakin and his fearless pilots that they wouldn't come to grief before they could defend themselves. Some of Grievous's droid starfighters had broken off their prowling perimeter patrol of his battle group and were heading for the first wave of Republic starfighters, heading for Anakin, recklessly in the lead.

"Thank you, Admiral."

Streams of laserfire, blinking bright, criss-crossed the dark of space. Jinking and swooping, rolling and evading, Anakin and his clone pilots dodged destruction by a finger's-width. Four droid starfighters exploded in durasteel splinters and shards and slag.

"General..." Yularen was frowning. "When do you anticipate launching the gunships?"

Obi-Wan couldn't take his eyes off Gold Squadron - off Anakin. "I don't know yet. As soon as I do, I'll tell you."

Yularen cleared his throat. "That's... a little vague for my liking."

"Really, Admiral?" Obi-Wan made himself look at Yularen and smile with quiet confidence. Through the Force he heard a clone pilot scream. "I don't find it vague at all."

There is a moment, when Obi-Wan uses phrase “Anakin and his fearless pilots“ but soon after that he backs to thinking about them first and foremost as clones. They are clone pilots, like the “clone” term always must be there, no matter how much mentioned troopers already sacrificed their lives for Republic.

"Better hang on, General," said Rex. "That soup you mentioned has started to boil." With a nod to Ahsoka, he grabbed his own helmet and vanished inside it.

"Indeed," said Obi-Wan, snatching hold of a ceiling strap.

Rex's terse words tautened the gunship's atmosphere to the breaking point. The silence beneath all the normal operational noises was absolute, uncanny. Every clone stood with unnerving stillness, head tipped fractionally to one side. They were unified in a private conversation, attention trained on their captain. Last-minute instructions, a rallying pep talk, some kind of clone prayer? Obi-Wan didn't know. He'd never asked. The idea of asking felt-intrusive. Insensitive. Impolite.

On one hand there is Obi-Wan’s awareness that asking troopers about their personal habits may be seen as intrusive curiosity.  He doesn’t want offend them in such impolite way. He doesn’t want invade their privacy. On other hand, it’s curosity related to them being clones. Would he wonder about their last minutes of unifity, if they were natural born soldiers? Would he felt that asking is a insensitive things to do, if he were thinking about them as a real men instead of some unknown species that clones seems to be for Jedi & citizen of Republic? Because this prayer may be a “clone thing”, it gives me feeling like Obi-Wan - consciously or not - see them as separate kind of human race. But it’s maybe just me.

Also, please note: there are moments in book that Obi-Wan calls / thinks about clones either as a good men or Anakin’s men (though the last example was used during quite personal conversation with Skywalker, so Obi-Wan may subconsciously switched to more diplomatic / courteous way of speaking for Anakin’s sake alone). Obi-Wan’s way to adress clone troopers in general are fluid, but still tends to describe them as clones above everything else. And frankly, he isn’t alone with that attitude. During Clone Wars era it’s so common occurrence for citizen of Republic to dehumanize troopers made on Kamino. Because they’re first and foremost a clones, right?

I don’t say they did that on purpose or because of personal hate (with some exceptions of course). It’s rather subconscious action and ignorance and lack of experiences with clone troopers to question their way of thinking. So in the book happens moments like that:

Jefris took a moment, then nodded. His smile faded now; his eyes were more than watchful. "General, you don't have the authority to stand down my men. What you do with your clones is your business, of course. But the hangar crew is mine."

My (non cloned) men vs your clones mentality. Or:

"Recovering your Padawan is," said Yoda gravely. "Your Clone Captain Rex and his sergeant also. Serious their injuries were, but in sufficient time were they treated."

Your clone captain Rex? Seriously? Thank you Yoda for reminder in case  Anakin forget that such important details. It’s not like he is constantly working with this man, riiiiight.

Even those characters who are always presented as the “good guys”, like Bail Organa has moments like that:

As Alderaan's elected Senate representative-and as its Prince-he'd been writing too many letters to bereaved families lately. Sending his sincere condolences for the loss of a loved one who'd perished in the battle to save the Republic.

It's not only the Jedi and the clones who are dying. My people are dying. And there's no manual for that, either.

Once again, clones vs my people.

THAT SAID, IT DOESN’T MEAN KENOBI DOESN’T RESPECT CLONE TROOPERS OR NEVER CARED FOR THEIR LIVES. But his way of thinking contrast a lot with Anakin’s. If you read the book, you will notice that in Anakin’s POV the term “clone(s)” is used too. Sometimes it’s more for narrative purpose (like in some example above), sometimes not. Clone as a word alone is not insult itself; like ARC trooper Alpha once said in New Face of War comics, clone is what he is.

The biggest difference between mentioned characters and Anakin is his MINDSET. Just look at Anakin’s way of adressing (thinking about) clone troopers:

Gold Squadron, with their unerring instinct for imminent trouble; was waiting for him on the hangar deck, laconic and restively ready for action. Clone Captain Fireball, his clipped hair dyed an eye-searing scarlet, a single black-and-scarlet scalp-lock proclaiming his stubborn individuality, greeted him as he joined them.

"General."

"Game on, Fib," he said. "With a twist-we've got no communications."

His captain's only reaction was a raised eyebrow. "Fine. I'll take fighting over chitchat any day."

Oh, these men. He loved them. "It means we're going in hot and wild, no plan but this...  blast those kriffing Sep ships out of my sky."

Fireball grinned with ear-to-ear ferocity. "It'll be our pleasure, General."

The rest of Gold Squadron was listening, their focused attention and absolute belief in him as warm and as reassuring as his mother's hand on his back.

"Grievous is out there, sitting on his clanky butt thinking he's got us whipped before we fire a single shot," he told his pilots, sharing with them his own unbridled ferocity. "I'm in the mood to contradict him, boys. How about you?"

They roared with one voice, clenched fists punching the air above their heads.

"Forget about the comm troubles," he added. "You don't need me telling you what to do. You were born knowing what to do. You've done it before, and after today you'll do it again."

Another roar, louder this time.

"Torrent, Cascade, and Waterfall companies are depending on us to sweep the streets for 'em," he finished. "And we are not going to let them down. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" his pilots shouted, so loud this time that the hangar's metal struts and deck plating thrummed with the sound.

The “Clone Captain Fireball” serve the same purpose like in Ahsoka’s POV; it’s description that helps in narration. One word and we know more or less who is that new person. But after that Anakin is always adressing clones around him either as his pilots or men or boys. Companies sent to Kothlis are depending on them, they are team. Not on me and you (clones).

Anakin is using captain’s name and doesn’t even try to deny how much he loves his pilots, how attached to them he is. Their absolute belief in him is “as warm and as reassuring as his mother's hand on his back”, what is something more than Jedi Order ever gave to him.

He was so proud of them - and at the same time so afraid. The brutal reality of combat meant the odds were they wouldn't all come home. They knew it, too, but no one would read that in their faces - faces that were at first glance, to the uncaring observer, identical. But he knew them as individuals, and he loved them for themselves. He could list each man's scars, recite each man's quirks, describe each man's idiosyncratic hair. Close-helmeted, in full body armor, he knew everyone of them by his walk.

Blindfold me and I'll tell you who laughed.

Letting his gaze touch each unique, committed pilot, he locked their faces tightly in his memory, in case this was the last time.

Anakin sees every clone trooper as individual person. Only uncaring observer could look at their faces and think they’re identical, what alone breaks so common idea that clones are just “duplicated lives” that look human but are not exactly real people. Pilots of Gold Squadron are unique, committed people and Anakin could list each MAN’s scars, recite each MAN’s quirks, and so on. It’s not each CLONE’s scar / quirks / hair, they are MEN in Skywalker’s eyes.

"Good," he said, and took a quick look around the hangar to make sure Gold Squadron was locked and loaded. Yes. Every starfighter was tight and right, canopies engaged. He felt burning in the Force: his pilots' united determination to prevail, to defeat the enemy no matter what was thrown their way.

I'm so lucky to have them. Please, don't let me let them down.

His pilots. Don’t let me let them down. This is similar “prayer” to Ahsoka’s one, except Anakin doesn’t call them clones even in his own mind.

Now, let’s look at the scene after the battle:

"That's excellent news, Admiral. I'll be here waiting for them. Kenobi out."

Anakin shook his head. "Ah-no, you won't."

"I won't?" Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up. "Anakin, I don't recall needing your permission to..."

"Save your breath," Anakin said flatly. "I'm not arguing this with you. Medic!"

The clone who'd patched up Obi-Wan looked around from packing his medkit. "General Skywalker?"

"When's the next medevac due?"

"In a couple of minutes, sir. But it's not coming here, it's..."

"It is now. Arrange that, would you? Then see General Kenobi safe on board-and if it's not heading back to Indomitable, tell them to make a detour."

The medic nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Anakin..."

Exasperated, Anakin glared at his mentor. "Obi-Wan, you don't need to brief the disaster team and the Bothans. I can do that. And get a proper sitrep and sort out our troops while I'm at it."

"Well, yes, that's true, but..."

"But nothing," he snapped, not the least bit interested in good manners. Sometimes Obi-Wan needed a short, sharp shock. Not your Padawan anymore, remember? "You said it yourself-Chancellor Palpatine has to know what's going on. That's our top priority. And in case you hadn't noticed? You're bleeding again. You belong in a medbay. Now, I've given this soldier a direct order. Don't make him disobey it by being difficult and don't upset the chain of command by countermanding me."

Silence. Obi-Wan stared at him.

[...]

With a cheerful nod at his mute former Master, carefully not looking at the medics, he sauntered out of the loading dock, heading for his fighter. As he walked, he toggled his comlink. "This is Gold Leader. Check in, people. Tell me what's going on."

One by one, his surviving pilots replied. Good news all around. No more casualties, lots more kills, the last of Grievous's garbage disposed of. Kothlis was free at last.

"Good job. Head on home," he told them. "I've got a couple of things to do here but I'll be right behind you. And the drinks are on me."

See a pattern here? Anakin’ POV doesn’t mark at every opportunity that people around him are clones. He sees and speaks about them the same as he does with others. There is medic / soldier instead of clone medic / clone soldiers. Just “our tropers” instead of “our clone companies” (like Obi-Wan said earlier). Check in, people when he is calling his pilots to brief them.

It’s one thing to use words like “clone” for narrative purpose - and sometimes it’s necessery! - and another to always mark that detail. It makes me feel, like characters are so keen to distinguish clones from “naturally born” people. Like there is some big, important difference between both groups that never should be forget (”Your clone captain Rex”, said Yoda. “General, you don't have the authority to stand down my men. What you do with your clones is your business, of course” said Commander Jefris).

In short: Ahsoka and even Kenobi show clones a lot respect and kindness in that story, sure. But the biggest contrast between them and Anakin lays in details. Even in his private thoughts, Anakin does not set apart “clones” from “real” people. Clone Troopers who serve under his command are his men; they are brave soldiers, fearless pilots and good medics as any non cloned ones should be. He sees them first and foremost as people. Anakin’s mindset is what makes him so different from a vast number of presented characters. What I believe is rooted in his life experiences of slavery. Even as a kid, Anakin stood up firmy against dehumanization of slaves.

And it’s even more shame that most (if not all?) sources presenting relationship between Skywalker and clones ignore their similar experiences of slavery and how that aspect affects all of them.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #the clone wars #the clone wars gambit #clone troopers #anakin and clones #dehumanization of clone troopers #anakin's mindset is what makes him so different from other jedi or characters #he sees clones as a real people #above everything else #while most characters including obi wan and to some degree ahsoka #see them as clones first and foremost #why every(?) sources ignore anakin's past as a slave #and how this aspect affects his relationship with clone troopers #i'm so sad about that #my rants #my analysis #sorry for a long text #anakin and marginalized groups

[lenaysworld]

Progress Report #9: Filming Ends & Footage is Analyzed!

This week, I made a bunch of progress on my senior project! 

First, filming officially ended on Saturday, November 9! The 40-day experiment is officially done, and I have amassed over two hours of footage to prove it! 

A screenshot of the playlist dedicated to my experiment, fully populated with the 40 days of footage!

After filming completed, I immediately finished up compiling and exporting my full-length compilation film. I then went ahead and uploaded it onto my playlist. 

A screenshot of my full-length film posted onto my YouTube playlist. 

I then dived into the analysis portion of my project. First I watched the full-length feature in its entirety from start to finish. As I watched the film, I jotted down notes on anything I qualitatively observed (common concepts discussed, observations, realizations, transformations, etc.). After watching the film and jotting down my notes, I then filled out the General Observations/Content Messages section of my analysis document. Below is what I noted down onto the doc:

Frequently Discussed Concepts/Phrases/Topics: 

School/Homework/Grades/Professors

Anxiety/Worry/Depression/Overwhelmed Feeling/Stress

Living a life that is unfulfilling to me/not aligned with my dreams/personal happiness

“I am not looking forward to this day” (Feelings of Dread, Not Wanting To Live)

Feelings of Self-Doubt

Attempts to stay positive, but negativity trumping in the end

“I need help”/”I am sick” 

“I am tired”

Money

Transformation(s) Over Time: 

The entire experiment, overall, remained relatively stagnant (I didn’t get more positive or negative over time). For the most part, I remained the same (exhibiting extreme anxiety, mixed with depression) over the course of the 40 days. However, there were some realizations that arose over the course of the 40 days: 

1) I realized that where I am in my life currently is not where I want to be. Throughout the course of the 40 days, I constantly explained that I felt like I was living a life that was unfulfilling/not making me happy or making me grow. I explained that school made me feel this way primarily (partaking in homework and activities for school is what I found the most unfulfilling, while going to work was fun and fulfilling). 

2) I realized that I am mentally ill  (a true realization that I am sick and need help). Throughout the entire experiment, I constantly harp on the negative aspects of my life and cannot focus on the positive. Almost every clip, I stated that I was anxious or worried or overwhelmed or feeling down, and even when I did feel positive, I still mentioned that there were thoughts in the back of my mind that were negative. I also exhibited extreme amounts of self-doubt and a lack of self-confidence which fed into the anxiety and depression I experienced throughout the course of the 40 days. 

1:00:00 - I realize that this is a bad part of my life and I am not doing well mentally/internally

25:20  - I realize that my anxiety is fueling my depression (the extreme anxiety I experience causes me to desire to not live through the day, which makes me sad because I am constantly “wishing my life away”)

48:30 - I realize how severe my anxiety is (“I am constantly living in fear, which is what makes living through this semester so hard”)

1:57 - “I am sick” 

2:00 - “Something within me needs to change” 

3) I realized that I am obsessive over school, and how my obsession with getting good grades and pleasing my professors is the root of most (if not all) of my unhappiness

53:35 - I become aware of my obsession, and I realize it is unhealthy

4) I realized that it is not that I am whiny or lazy, just that the school environment does not foster my happiness/creativity/emotional well-being

1:00:39 - I realize that I am fine at work (in fact, I enjoy working and wish I could do more of that). It is school that is the problem. 

1:18 - I realize that I generally feel better on the weekends because I do not need to be in the school environment (I can work and spend time with my loved ones, which are both activities that foster my spirit and well-being)

5) I realized that this whole project was, in a way, a cry for help

1:20 - I express my frustrations with the fact that my professors aren’t asking me if I’m okay, even though they are watching the videos. I feel like I am screaming for help but they are not hearing my cries

1:32 - I actually admit that the project was a cry for help and that I was surprised that people (i.e., professors) were getting offended by the project, as it wasn’t about them)

Other Patterns/Observations: 

1) Sometimes I didn’t overtly explain what was making me feel a certain way/I would go out on a tangent (the “check-ins” took on the form of a stream of consciousness/”emotional spewing” style of speaking/explaining, like a journal entry but on film broadcast to the rest of the world)

2) Throughout the entire experiment, school directly caused me to experience lower moods. Almost all of the times I explained I felt worried, anxious, low, overwhelmed, or stressed, it was because of school. 

3) This project is a glimpse into a highly depressed person’s life. It is a window into what chronic anxiety and depression look like in an individual.

4) This project is a commentary on the university system and how it is a flawed system (“the grade” matters more than the welfare of the student, the professors do not reach out when a student is exhibiting dangerous behavior, it is a normal experience for a student to lose their sanity for the sake of a good grade). 

5) Throughout the experiment, I constantly tried to stay positive, but ultimately always failed and fell back into my depressive state. The experiment depicts a constant struggle between someone who is trying to get better on their own but who is failing. 

1:09 - “I’m trying to stay fucking positive” 

1:40 - I realize that in the foreground of my mind, I am positive, but in the background, the negative thoughts linger

After filling out that section of my analysis doc, I then moved onto the next section: Audience Outreach/Engagement Analytics. For this, I used the YouTube Analytics tool, as well as some minor calculations I did on my own (simple addition of total likes, comments, views, etc.) 

A screenshot of the YouTube Analytics tool.

Below are my findings regarding audience engagement/outreach throughout the course of the experiment: 

Watch Time (Past 28 Days): 561 minutes

Views (Past 28 Days): 487 

Subscriber Change (Past 28 Days): +7

Top Videos (Watch Time Within Past 28 Days): 

10.27.19 (73 mins watched) 

10.18.19 (38 mins watched) 

10.1.19 (23 mins watched) 

Top Videos (Views): 

10.27.19 (125 views)

10.1.19 (68 views) 

10.7.19 (46 views)

Total Amount of Video Likes: 37

Total Amount of Video Dislikes: 0 

Total Amount of Video Comments: 9 

Total Amount of Video Views: 647

Impressions: >3.0 k people

Next up, I transcribed my full-length feature using the YouTube Auto-Captioning tool and fed it into the text analysis tool on Utility.org to analyze common words/phrases that were said throughout the 40 days. Below were my findings:

Frequently Said Word(s): 

I/I’m (~1000 occurrences)

Feel/feeling (~160 occurrences)

Class (46 occurrences) 

Homework (44 occurrences) 

Sick (40 occurrences)

Work (39 occurrences)

Frequently Stated Emotion(s): 

Anxious (17 occurrences) 

Worried (15 occurrences)

Bad (27 occurrences)

Positive (23 occurrences) [NOTE: this is more than likely because I commonly said, “I want to keep positive”, not necessarily “I am feeling positive”]

Frequently Said Phrase(s): 

“I don’t know” 

“I feel like”

“I don’t want”/”Don’t want to”

“I’m trying my best”/”trying my best”

“Not really looking forward”

“I got a lot done today”

“I have so much homework to do”

“It’s going to be good”/”Going to be a good day”

Keep in mind, I had to parse through a lot of words that were frequently said that were not significant enough to include in this analysis (”fluff” words like really, like, so, etc.). I included only the words and phrases that I felt were specific/informative enough to shed light on this experiment and what it uncovered (so, in a way, this data is kind of biased). 

Finally, I transcribed the full-length compilation again using VideoGrep and created some supercuts of common words/phrases. I will note that the transcription tool on VideoGrep seemed kind of off, so I am sure the supercuts I created only depict some of the occurrences of the words/phrases (not all). However, I wanted to create some supercuts just for fun and possibly to use bits and pieces of for my documentation video. It was more of a supplemental exploration than a substantial piece of analysis! Below are the supercuts I made and posted onto my YouTube channel playlist: 

“Anxious” Supercut:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRj7C1R6ywo

“Homework” Supercut: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tS-bLptG6NE

“School” Supercut: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkLCsb9ssYM

“Stressed” Supercut: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gN0rCdjSOkg

“Stressful” Supercut: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASBW9yopCYE

“Worried” Supercut: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOBGJwNGqcE

“Worry” Supercut: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypIGuD3SKJc

Overall, I made a ton of progress this week in terms of analyzing all the footage that was taken throughout the course of the 40 days and making sense of it all! Now, I will be moving forward with finalizing the script for my documentation video and getting that made! 

Here is the link to my analysis doc if you’d like to take a looksie: 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_RqEf_Qp3M0Yq2ATBbePwaE5RPgm-M1l2Ht0_wDNPYU/edit?usp=sharing

Until next week :)