#it was surprisingly hard to think about these names subtracted from the person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dogwooddiaries · 4 months ago

Text

today I learned that I am apparently picky about names? anyway, I added my thoughts to each of sparrow's below. I could NOT make up my mind on how to format this, sorry if it's weird.

objectively I think all you said is correct and makes sense, yet I can't help the way the names make me feel. so.

Roger Morris. 6/10. Solid mouth feel, surprisingly so for all the R's jammed in there. Not an overly common name but not especially unique either. I get what you're saying yet it's too harsh of a name for me, all the hard Rs ig? Also I find it sort of lackluster, Herbert is much more interesting lol - 4/10

Chuck Day. 10/10. I love single syllable first and last names; fantastic mouth feel, with the hard sound in the first name and softer in the last. I also love last names that are commonly used words. Best name in the boat imo. I'm not super fond of names with the ch digraph but I DO like ys in names a lot. I really like Day as a name. Chuck is kind of sharp and harsh but Day is the opposite and the contrast of that is nice. Not a perfect 10 but I'll say 8/10!

Gordy Adam. 5/10. A little plain, but still good mouth feel. A first name-last name is always kinda cheeky/fun too. Gordy sounds cute. Yes! Gordy is a goofy name but for some reason I have a lot of affection for it. I'd rank it... a 7/10

Johnny Galbraith White. 2/10. Sorry to Johnny but it's a very common first and last name, pretty boring, and then the middle name feels like it's overcompensating for the plainness of the rest of his name. <- perfectly said, no notes

Jim "Stub" McMillin. 4/10. Stub is a silly nickname, it's cute in friendship dynamics. Jim is a pretty common name; McMillin has some internal alliteration that's kinda nice. But I don't think the name rolls off the tongue as nicely as some of the others here. I like the shape and sound of Jim McMillin, and I'd give it a higher rating. Maybe a 6/10. I get what you're saying about it not rolling off the tongue though - a curse of "Mc" names I think. Also I think Stub is truly the most weird nickname; it works for him somehow.

George "Shorty" Hunt. 6/10. I have a head canon that Shorty never uses his actual first name lol. I like the mouth feel of Hunt a lot, concise, punctuated. George is the weakest link here I fear (8/10 if we drop George and just go with Shorty Hunt). The nickname Shorty is fine enough, but imo there's little to like here. 3/10

Joe Rantz. 7/10. Good syllables. Rantz is a great last name aesthetically, it's got a lot of flavor to it, unique but still simple. Joe is pretty plain, though. Honestly, a low ranking one to me - maybe 4/10. Joe is dull and Rantz feels anachronistic to me, which I realize is a ridiculous thing to say but I'm under no delusions that I'm here to make sense.

Don Hume. 9/10. If Chuck Day is the best name, Don Hume is a close second. Single syllables again, great mouth feel. Hume has a gentle/softer aesthetic and feel to it, I love it. I love the sound of Hume on its own especially and Don Hume together is pretty and musical and kind of dignified sounding. I'll say 9/10 also

Bobby Moch. 7/10. Another great last name, short and punctuated like Hunt. Bobby is a pretty common name and even a little silly sounding imo, but I think it pairs nicely with Moch, a soft and cute first name with the harder syllable of the last name goes well together. I think it is a good, solid name, but it doesn't woo me. It is just as good when you switch to "Bob," though I prefer the sound of Bobby (which does sound eternally childish :) ) agree with 7/10

Rating the boys' names based purely on vibes/aesthetic/mouth feel because I'm bored at work. In boat order:

Roger Morris. 6/10. Solid mouth feel, surprisingly so for all the R's jammed in there. Not an overly common name but not especially unique either.

Gordy Adam. 5/10. A little plain, but still good mouth feel. A first name-last name is always kinda cheeky/fun too. Gordy sounds cute.

Joe Rantz. 7/10. Good syllables. Rantz is a great last name aesthetically, it's got a lot of flavor to it, unique but still simple. Joe is pretty plain, though.

Don Hume. 9/10. If Chuck Day is the best name, Don Hume is a close second. Single syllables again, great mouth feel. Hume has a gentle/softer aesthetic and feel to it, I love it.

Tell me how much you agree/disagree, or tag me if you do your own ratings I wanna see them lol

#it was surprisingly hard to think about these names subtracted from the person #also same as prev:#this is deeply unserious i cannot stress that enough #tbitb

19 notes · View notes

patchwork-panda · 5 years ago

Text

If A Moment Is All We Are (16/?)

AO3 link: HERE

“Ranpo-san! Can you hear me?! Ranpo-san—!”

I clapped my hand over my mouth and doubled over, coughing so violently I thought I might puke. I’d inhaled a mouthful of ash and dust when I’d called Edogawa’s name and the taste was even worse than the smell. My hair and clothes were blanketed in the stuff and as I stumbled forward, hacking out my lungs, I thought I heard Hatta shouting into a walkie-talkie and calling for a medic.

Why?!

“Ranpo-san, why did you go in?” I coughed, dropping to my knees when I’d reached the pile of smoldering debris. “I thought you solved the case already!”

Edogawa knew as well as I did that if he went into the room, he would be crushed when the roof collapsed over his head. Perhaps he thought he would be safe if he avoided checking the body, the way he had in the vision. After all, I’d seen the ceiling caving in just above the corpse, not in the corner where the jars were kept.

I shoved my hands into the pile of debris and began digging, praying to some unknown god that Edogawa would be alright.

The location may have been different, but everything else had happened exactly as it had in my vision. Was a person’s future fixed after all? And if so, was there any point in struggling to fight the inevitable?

Clouds of dust and soot rose into the air as I continued clearing away the debris, Hatta joining me in my efforts to get to Edogawa. Seconds, each more agonizing than the last, slowly passed and I felt the panic rising in my throat when our efforts barely seemed to make a difference in the size of the pile...

Slamming my hands down on the broken floorboards, I let out a desperate scream.

“Say something!!”

“There’s no need to yell,” a muffled voice called back, “I can hear you just fine!”

I stopped digging immediately.

“Ranpo-san?!”

At once, the pile beneath my hands began to shift. Without warning, a grimy, soot-covered Edogawa popped out of the ground in a shower of dirt. I let out a surprised shriek and fell over backwards onto my butt.

“Phew, that was a close one,” Edogawa muttered, dusting off his poncho as his entire torso emerged from a strange, circular hole in the ground.

“Wh-where did you come from?!” I stammered. “How did you—?!”

“Really Kusunoki-kun, did you think a member of the Armed Detective Agency could be done in by a mere accident?” Edogawa sighed. “Minus one point.”

He threw aside something that looked like a dirty frisbee and put his hands on the ground, pushing himself up. It was then that I noticed he wasn’t climbing out of some random hole in the ground, but an enormous clay pickle pot that had been buried in the dirt; the frisbee he’d just tossed aside was actually its weighted lid. As I watched, Edogawa lifted one foot out of the pot, planted it on the circular rim and immediately slipped on its grimy surface. He fell back into the pot with a soft yelp.

“Don’t just stand there! Help me up!”

At once, I stumbled forward and reached out to grab onto his hand. However, the moment Edogawa’s bare fingers closed around my wrist, I realized (too late) that neither of us were wearing gloves. I squeezed my eyes shut, readying myself to push the incoming vision away, the way I had when I’d caught the kidnapper Kunikida and I were chasing.

Please don’t let my eyes start bleeding again! If Hatta sees, my secret might be exposed...!

But nothing happened.

There was no tug of gravity and no blacking out. No headache either. I could still definitely feel the warmth of Edogawa’s hand but it was as if I weren’t hanging onto Edogawa at all.

No. The only other time I had felt something like this was when I was holding onto Dazai with his Ability canceling powers...

I opened my eyes, half expecting to see the bandaged detective himself in front of me but what I saw instead was a very cross-looking Edogawa.

“Some assistant you are,” he snapped, suddenly tugging at my arm so hard so that he almost yanked me into the pot with him. “See if I take you on another case again!”

Mumbling an apology under my breath, I grabbed onto him with both hands and with Hatta’s help, pulled him free of the enormous pot at last. Once he had both feet on solid ground again, Edogawa dusted off his hat, turned to me and shook his head.

“And here I thought you’d directed me to this particular corner because you’d seen the pickle jar buried in the ground and thought it would be a good place to hide in case the roof really did collapse.”

He clicked his tongue.

“But judging by your reaction, you definitely didn’t. Maybe we should get you a pair of glasses too.”

“Edogawa-san! Are you alright?” Hatta asked, just as a group of medics appeared on the staircase.

“I’m more than alright,” Edogawa said, grinning. “I’ve just solved this entire case! Here.”

He stuck out his hand and opened his palm. Perched on its surface, looking rather grimy but otherwise perfectly intact, was a lumpy green key chain. He rubbed it between his fingers to clean it off and as a set of tiny features finally emerged, I could clearly see it for what it was.

“That’s the Statue of Liberty,” I said, my eyes widening. “The one in New York City!”

“Correct!” Edogawa declared, “Plus one point! But I’m also subtracting one point for your failure to pull me out of that giant pickle jar when I first called out to you for help, so you’re at negative one for now...”

“Ehh?!”

“I’ll total up your final score when we get back to the Agency. Kunikida-kun’s good with math, I’ll have him help.”

I blanched.

“No! Please don’t tell Kunikida-san—!”

“Anyway,” Edogawa continued, twirling the key chain around on his index finger, “This belonged to your victim. My assistant here was right to suspect he was looking for something in the pickle jars but this was surprisingly hard to find...”

He tossed the key chain at Hatta, who caught it between two hands.

“What’s so special about this key chain?” he asked, voicing the question I wanted to ask.

“This isn’t something you can just order online,” Edogawa explained. “Take a look at the bottom. There’s a sticker with the price tag in American dollars still attached. Our victim here was never able to get it off. Which means he, or someone close to him, bought this in New York City.”

He pointed to the body.

“Check his clothes thoroughly. You’re going to find a key that corresponds to the lock outside. This man was given access to the basement in the past but it’s clear that he shouldn’t have been here last night.”

This time he pointed to the corner where the body lay.

“When he heard the owners of the house coming, he ran for this corner so he could hide, but he tripped when he came down the steps. He landed right over there, where the force of his fall loosened several bricks from that pile, which knocked him out. I believe Daisuke Ito, the elderly husband, had very poor hearing so he didn’t hear the bricks falling down. Not only that, his memory was starting to go so when he came upon the lock and found it open, he’d just assumed he or his wife had forgotten to lock it and promptly locked it himself, not knowing the victim was inside. Then the fire started in the kitchen and you know the rest.”

“But the victim,” I protested, “Who is he?”

Edogawa stared at me. Then he jabbed a finger at me.

“Minus another point.”

“Eh?!”

“You didn’t see the backpack lying outside in the yard?” he asked, looking annoyed, “It’s right there! It’s burned pretty badly but anyone could see it was a backpack!”

Bewildered, I turned to Hatta, as if he might come to my defense but Hatta just gave me an apologetic shrug and pulled out his walkie-talking. He instructed one of the officers standing outside to search the garbage pile near the doors. From down below, we heard the sounds of the officer ruffling through the burned trash and then a very loud gasp.

“We found a U.S. passport!” the officer called out, down the stairs.

My eyes widened.

“This guy’s a foreigner?!”

Edogawa grinned.

“Close. He’s a double citizen.”

My jaw dropped.

“No way...”

“Your victim is either the child of a family friend or a not-so-distant relative,” Edogawa said, tucking his hands into his pockets and proceeding towards the stairs. “He used to help out with the pickle-making business and was close enough with the Ito’s that he was personally given a key to the basement. One day, while our victim was working, he dropped the key chain into that pot by accident. Shortly after, he had a falling out with the family and stopped working here. However, Ito’s either forgot about the key they’d handed out or decided not to ask for it back, in case their relationship improved again and the victim could resume working with them. It seems it didn’t happen in time, so this man was forced to sneak back in just last night so he could retrieve his key chain. It’s a pretty cheap object, meaning this was clearly a sentimental item he got when he’d last visited the States. I think he was planning to take it with him for his final trip back to the U.S.”

He yelled up the stairs at the officer.

“Read me the name on that passport!”

There was a pause.

“It’s in English! Hang on...”

And then another gasp.

“It’s Ito Haru! Holy shit!!”

Hatta’s jaw dropped. He turned to Edogawa, looking stunned.

“Ito Haru is their great nephew. He was reported missing four months ago! What was he doing here?!”

“He must’ve been on the run,” Edogawa concluded. “Probably had debts of some sort. Anyway, you’re the police, you can look into that on your own.”

He made a face.

“I’m going home to take a shower.”

He wiped his hands down on his clothes (it made no difference—both his hands and his garments were filthy with brownish goop and dirt) and proceeded toward the exit.

“Kusunoki-kun!”

I snapped to attention.

“Yes!”

“Hurry up! I need to go home.”

“Be right there!”

I couldn’t believe it. Just like that, the case was over. Edogawa had solved it in a matter of minutes. Not only that, he’d escaped being injured by the collapsing ceiling even though I’d seen it happen in one of my visions.

For the first time in forever, I had been wrong.

Beautifully and mercifully wrong.

I grabbed my bag from where I’d dropped it and followed Edogawa up the stairs. Hatta and the medics he’d summoned earlier bowed deeply as we passed them. Edogawa merely tipped his hat in farewell as he left but I bowed to each one as I went, determined to maintain as much professionalism as I could (Kunikida was right, we still had the Agency’s reputation to think about). When we finally reached the top of the stairs and stepped blinking into the bright midday sun, Edogawa reached inside his pocket and pulled out a single wrapped piece of gummy candy.

“Well I’d say that went pretty well, wouldn’t you?”

He tore open the package and popped the bite-sized treat into his mouth, as I stared incredulously at him.

“What?” he asked, chewing noisily. “You don’t think so?”

“Ranpo-san,” I said, “The roof collapsed on you earlier. You could’ve died.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” he said, already pulling a second piece of gummy candy from his pocket.

“Yes, you could!”

“No,” Edogawa repeated, staring me down. “I couldn’t.”

It was like talking to a child. I slapped my hand over my eyes and groaned.

“Look,” Edogawa said, swallowing his piece of candy at long last, “Kusunoki-kun, you’re good. But you’re not that good. After everything I’ve seen today, I can say two things with absolute certainty: one, your Ability does not work on the same person twice in one day. I saw your face when you tried to pull me out of that jar earlier. That was the shocked look of an Ability User who suddenly found they couldn’t use their powers. I’ve seen it enough times to know what I’m talking about. Two...”

Grinning, he pointed at me.

“Your visions aren’t absolute. How do I know this?”

He folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m not dead,” he said simply. “And I get the feeling this isn’t the first time you were wrong.”

But I shook my head.

“Every vision I’ve seen so far has come true,” I argued. “Every single one. Even if I’m not there to see it happen in person, I’ll hear about it and it’s always horrible. Ranpo-san, I don’t know how you managed to survive because I can’t think of a single other person who—”

The words died in my throat.

Edogawa raised an eyebrow and watched as comprehension slowly dawned on my face and I whispered a single name.

“Yamazaki-san.”

“Who’s that?”

“My neighbor,” I answered, turning to him in astonishment. “She lived across the hall from me before I moved into the Agency apartment. I... I told Kunikida-san and Dazai-san about her, that she was going to be murdered and they sent her away to Nagano, to live with her nephew. She... She’s still alive.”

I felt my knees give way and I collapsed in an unsteady heap on the scorched grass. My head was spinning.

“I don’t understand...”

Edogawa watched me quietly for a moment, then reached into his pocket for yet another piece of candy.

“How often do you tell people about your visions, Kusunoki-kun?” he asked thoughtfully, turning the candy over in his hand.

“Never. This is only the second time. The first time was when I met Kunikida-san and Dazai-san.”

I looked away.

“I never even told my own relatives. I didn’t want them to think I was crazy.”

Or worse, cursed, the way many Ability Users were.

“I see...”

Edogawa looked at the piece of candy in his hand, staring through it as if it held the answers he were looking for inside its brightly colored wrapper.

“So this is the second time you’ve told someone what you saw and the second time that the act of merely telling someone has changed the vision. Hmm...”

He looked up at me.

“You ever heard of the ‘Observer Effect?’”

“Sort of... I think it was mentioned during one of my physics classes way back when. That’s what it’s called when the act of simply observing an event changes the event itself, right?”

“Correct. Plus one point,” Edogawa said, tossing the piece of candy to me. “It seems to me that your Ability works in a way that’s similar to the Observer Effect. In other words, the very act of telling someone about the contents of your visions will alter the outcome. Why is this? It’s because upon hearing their future, a person will become consumed with thoughts of how to change it if they don’t like the outcome and thoughts of how to make it come true no matter what if they do like the outcome. It’s like those old Greek myths.”

“But if I’m the one seeing the vision,” I protested, “Wouldn’t that make me an ‘observer?’ Why does my observing the vision not change the outcome?”

“But it has,” Edogawa explained. “You said so yourself. When you told Kunikida-kun and Dazai-san about your vision, they protected your elderly neighbor and prevented her murder. The only reason nothing had ever changed before was because you never had much of an incentive to change another person’s future and so never told a soul. Surely they couldn’t have all been life-or-death situations?”

He was right. They weren’t. I could tell by the smug look on his face that he knew it as well as I did.

“Ranpo-san,” I said, slowly getting to my feet. “You’re amazing...! You really are.”

At that, Edogawa beamed.

“I am, right?”

“But I do have one more question... How did you avoid getting crushed the way I saw in my vision?” I asked. “I saw it from Hatta-san’s perspective. Usually that means whoever the vision is actually about dies—”

“Oh come on, Kusunoki-kun,” Edogawa sighed. “I thought it was obvious?”

When I shook my head, he let out another sigh, heavier this time.

“I’ll put it simply then: I believe in the power of possibility.”

He took out his glasses and spun them around his finger. The light caught on the thick glass of the lenses and they flashed in the sun.

“When you told me what you saw in my future, I refused to believe it. I didn’t want to. Me, the Great Detective, Edogawa Ranpo, meet his end, not at the hands of a brilliant rival, but in some rickety burned house, crushed to death like a tiny insignificant bug?”

He shook his head.

“No. That’s not how it’s going to be. ‘I won’t let it,’ I thought. And so I thought... and I thought... and I thought...”

I watched his glasses spin faster and faster around on his finger, picking up speed as he spoke.

“And then I realized something.”

He caught the glasses in his hand.

“This was just another puzzle. If I operate under the assumption that your visions are not absolute, that they show the most likely possibility rather than an unchangeable fact, then I could try to think of a way out. And if I succeeded, then I could change the future.”

Placing the glasses back on his face, he grinned, an overpowering aura of confidence radiating from his sharp, green eyes.

“And who better to change the future than the Great Detective?”

I was floored.

Holy crap, he really was a genius.

“Besides,” he said, taking the glasses off and frowning at a speck of dirt on them. “I told you before that these glasses are important to me, didn’t I?”

He grabbed a corner of my jacket and, ignoring my protests, started polishing the glass with the clean lining.

“There is no possible future in which I would let anything happen to these. None.”

He tucked them back into his pocket and marched off.

“Now come on! There’s a shower I need to take and snacks yet to be eaten. As payment for your lesson today, I will charge you the low, low price of two boxes of Kit-Kats.”

“Two?!”

“One for the lesson and two for almost letting me die. Now stop dawdling. I haven’t had lunch yet and I’m starving!”

Once again, I hurried after him. A small group of police staff rushed past us in the direction of the basement, barely acknowledging our presence as we walked away from the house and towards the street, where I could see the subway entrance several blocks away. As I pocketed the gummy candy Edogawa had given me, he stopped walking and spoke up one final time.

“You know, normally I’d complain about my assistant being constantly on the phone in the middle of a case but in this situation, I think I’ll let it go.”

He turned to me just as the crosswalk light behind him turned red. His grin looked just a touch unsteady.

“If Dazai-san hadn’t been texting you all this time... Who knows what could have happened?”

***

“Ah, Kusunoki-kun.”

For a brief moment, Kunikida seemed just as surprised to see me coming into the first floor lobby as I was to see him already standing there.

“Good timing,” he said, sounding relieved. “Could you please get the elevator for me? I’d do it myself but...”

He shifted the heavy stack of papers piled high in his arms to indicate his current predicament but all I saw was the way his shirt sleeves stretched over his biceps when he moved. The coat I was wearing suddenly felt too thick and warm.

“G-good afternoon, Kunikida-san.”

I could already feel the awkward smile tugging at my cheeks when I spoke and I struggled to keep my voice even as I hurried over.

“Of course! Just a second.”

“Thanks. That really helps,” he sighed, shifting in place as I pushed the button for him and stepped back to stand beside him.

“What are all those papers for?” I asked, eyeing the thick stack in his arms. “Do you want me to take some of them up for you?”

Shaking his head slightly, Kunikida observed me from behind the stack. His glasses slipped just a fraction down his nose and I found myself wanting to push them back up for him.

“That won’t be necessary. I just need to take these to the clerk room so Haruno-san and the others can type them up. By the way...”

He squinted at me.

“Why is your hair wet?”

I twitched.

“Oh, that,” I laughed nervously, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “I had to go home to take a shower. I was out on a case this morning and things got a little... messy... I didn’t want to come back to the Agency covered in dirt.”

After dropping Edogawa off at his apartment (“You’re my assistant so I expect you to write the report for me,” he’d said, “I’m going snack shopping. Have Kunikida-kun call me if something comes up.”), I’d immediately rushed home and jumped into the shower with my clothes still on. Edogawa and I had been covered in so much foul-smelling grime that all the other subway passengers had gone out of their way to avoid us. Even the cleaning staff had shot us dirty looks as we’d left. I’d spent so much time trying to clean myself off that I barely got the chance to eat.

“So you used your lunch break to go home and clean up?” Kunikida asked.

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t have time to dry my hair,” I mumbled. “I was hoping to get back early and there wasn’t enough time...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kunikida said as the elevator arrived with a soft chime. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally have an employee who thinks about the Agency’s reputation.”

He inclined his head towards the elevator and made an apologetic face.

“Sorry but could you get that, please?”

I nodded and went in ahead to hold the door for him. But when he settled in next to me and the doors came to a close, I suddenly realized that I was alone in a somewhat small space with Kunikida Doppo—the very tall, very handsome blonde detective I was definitely crushing on. If my coat felt too warm before, I was burning up now.

As the silence slowly settled in, the air around us seemed to thicken.

I wanted to think of something to say, something that would make this whole situation less awkward. But for some reason, all I could think about was the fact that this was my first time interacting with Kunikida again after the incident with Dazai and the notebook the day before. I realized I should probably take this time to explain what had happened but my tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Thankfully, Kunikida broke the silence first.

“Kusunoki-kun.”

I nearly jumped in surprise.

“Y-yes?”

“Before we get to the Agency, I have something I need to tell you.”

My heart was pounding in my chest and I clutched at the strap of my bag.

“W-what is it?”

“About yesterday...”

I swallowed nervously.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Don’t let what happened bother you,” he said quietly, looking straight ahead at the doors. “Dazai likes to mess with people and this wouldn’t be the first time he’s dragged a kohai into his antics. He still tries to pawn off his desk work on Atsushi-kun from time to time.”

I grimaced.

Somehow I wasn’t surprised...

“So I just want to let you know that if Dazai ever goes too far,” Kunikida said, turning to me with just a hint of a frown on his face, “You can always come talk to me.”

There was a soft chime and the elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh. Once again, I held the door and then followed Kunikida out into the hallway.

“So what happened on your case this morning?” he asked, looking at me curiously as we walked towards the office.

“Oh, I was with Ranpo-san.”

“Ranpo-san, huh? I’m guessing things went pretty well if you’re on a first-name basis with him now?”

“Sort of?”

I gave him a short summary about the case as we walked down the hall together, Kunikida nodding at the appropriate intervals and his eyes widening significantly when I told him what Edogawa had worked out about my Ability. I didn’t want to spoil the mood (or give him any reason to worry about me), so I purposefully left out the part about my eyes bleeding. Kunikida was the last person I wanted to lie to but this didn’t seem like the right time to tell him. I had just stepped through the door and was holding it open for Kunikida when a tall figure wearing a sand-colored trench coat suddenly barreled through, smacking into Kunikida—and forcing him to drop everything he was holding.

Bewildered, I poked my head out into the hallway to see a storm of papers flying everywhere and a familiar figure in a trench coat lying on top of Kunikida, their limbs tangled together a mess of body parts.

I watched Kunikida’s face grow redder and redder as the rage began to build and I hopped back into the foyer and covered my ears as Kunikida’s furious roar shook the building.

“DAZAIIIII!!”

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai #kunikida #edogawa ranpo

5 notes · View notes

smokeybrand · 5 years ago

Text

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: I Can Be Your Lifeguard

I was perusing the Youtubes and I came across sort of a recommendation for a film. This thing got kind of a resounding, compelling, review on this particular channel that i follow so i did a bit of research about it all. It turns out, that there overall critical consensus for this thing is relatively poor. This piqued my interest because, on Netflix where it’s being streamed, it’s actually pretty popular. That weirs contradiction kind of chaffed at my exceptionally Virgo nature so i decided to check out The Night Clerk for myself.

The Good

The directions is pretty okay. I can’t the visual aspect of the storytelling wasn’t on point but Michael Cristofer is known to capture great shots. He gets strong performances out of the actors attached to his films and that is easily the most prominent aspect of his work.

The music is actually really good for what we have. It’s hard to actually praise the choices made, though, because, while they accentuate and enhance the scenes perfectly, the film overall is kind of mundane. It’s like praising the shine of a gen even though it’s covered in sh*t. All credit to Erik Hall, though. He did his job very well.

This cast is outstanding and completely wasted. Helen Hunt, John Leguizamo, and Ana De Armas. How do you squander talent like that? How do you not give these exceptional actors, material and time to really return a brilliant performance to you?

Seeing Helen Hunt back in film has been rather delightful. She disappeared there for a while after conquering that Hollywood mountain. I read somewhere Hunt wanted to get away from the life for a bit, ground herself back to reality. I’m glad she did because, since her return, she’s been pretty dope. Her character, Ethel Bromley, is the lead’s mother and she kills it. Hunt is easily the best thing about this film after the music and it;s a crying shame she wasn’t given more to do.

John Leguizamo plays the Detective Espada. Motherf*cker doesn’t even have a first name. That should tell you the quality you’re in for. Anyway, he does a pretty great job in the role, even if he’s just playing himself. It’s one of his stronger performances, one that could give Hunt a run for her money in the vacuum of this film, but I'd be lying if I said he didn’t fall short, overall.

Ana De Armas turns in a surprisingly adept performance as the principal heroine, Andrea Rivera. I’ve been keeping an eye on miss Armas since i saw her in Blade Runner 2049 and have even constantly surprised by her choice in role and range as an actor. Ana a very real talent and you can see she has a true passion for the work. Even with the limitations of this film, she still turns in a nuanced, emotional, and compelling, showing.

There is a great potential in the overall story trying to be told. I can see, in between the lines, that there is a properly compelling narrative there and that was comforting to infer. It’s a little mundane and a whole lot of cliche, but it’s a quaint tale worth telling.

The Bad

The worst thing about this movie is it’s lead, Tye Sheridan. This dude is bad at his job. I don’t think I've ever seen him actually decently act in anything he’s been in. I liked him in Ready Player One but that’s kind of a stretch because most of that movie took place in a video game with an avatar that looked nothing like him. As expressive and emotive Percival was in that, that’s how muted and reserved Bart Bromley is in this. Now, Bromley has the Asperger's You expect a bit of that uncanny valley interaction but Sheridan can’t be that nuanced. This feels clumsy, too heavy handed, like Cuba Gooding Jr. in Radio. Sheridan does fine when he can blend into a cast or ensemble but up front like this? Anchoring what i imagine should have been a tense mystery drama? Nah. dude is just weird and uncomfortable to watch.

While on the subject of the Bromley character, this portrayal feels a little disingenuous. I don’t know a great deal about the Asperger's, personally, but i have a pretty acute academic understanding about the condition and have interacted with several individuals over the course of my life and this portrayal rings false. I know that there I are different degrees, my best friend was a little autistic, but this feels too Hollywood to be real. This portrayal feels like what i think, a movie studio thinks, someone with high function Asperger's acts like and that’s the most bogus feeling, ever.

I was able to pick apart the plot within the first twenty minutes. When everything goes down at the beginning of the film, i knew exactly how it would end. It made the last half hour incredibly difficult to get though because you’re not braced for the resolution, you’re held hostage by the pacing. The mystery is effectively blown within minutes and you just kind of root for this thing to eventually limp across that finish line.

After subtracting credits, this thing is less than an hour and a half long, definitely a disservice. The Night Clerk needs at least two hours to flesh everything out properly. There was nowhere near enough to to take this admittedly compelling narrative and do it justice. Every thing feels so rushed, so superficial, it damages the movie beyond repair.

None of the better actors get room to breathe, time to work, so you never feel like this flick is real. You’re never endeared to anyone or feel the tension or identify with their plight. Hunt is probably the closest you come to feeling anything for any of these characters, but it’s hard not to identify with the universal emotion of motherly love. That one is easy. What’s not easy is trying to make an audience sympathize with an emotionless lead, even if he is an Aspie. It can be done. I've seen it done. I’ve seen it done much better than what we got in this thing. Never in the short amount of time allotted to this film, though.

The Verdict

The Night Clerk is a quandary. I can’t say I disliked it but I know that I really didn’t enjoy watching it. The ingredients for a pretty exceptional film are all here; Great cast, enthralling script, seasoned director, exciting plot, and a decent enough mystery. The thing is, none of that matters with such poor execution. I don’t know if it was budgetary issues or executive meddling or whatever, but this thing definitely needed more time to develop it’s plot. It definitely needed more time to build this narrative. It definitely needed a another revision to the script at least, a much better lead, and substantially more tension. It hurts to say that because, with all of the components on display, this narrative could have been something very special. Instead, it’s kind of a jumbled mess of missed opportunity. The Night Clerk feels unfinished. It feels like the story that Cristofer wanted to tell, was neutered and butchered. If you have Netflix, you can check it out if you’re curious but a pass on this one won’t hurt in the long run. You’re not missing much.

2 notes · View notes

themlim · 5 years ago

Text

Forgive the MS Paint Quality

“By some coincidence, my parents happened to name me after my damn epithet. I know it's kind thematically appropriate but it's still super annoying. I'm thinking about changing it to Bessie? Any thoughts?”

Name: Chance

Epithet: Chance

Stamina: 51

Proficiency: 97

Class: Lucky Lady

Passive:

A Crit's a Crit:

Treat critical failures as if they were critical successes.

Talents:

I know a guy:

Chance calls one of her ex's for help.

Changing Tides

Chance gains 2 stamina for every point she subtracts from an ally's roll or adds to an enemy's roll.

Abilities: Double or Nothing (1): Name a target and flip a coin. On a success the targeted creature does double damage. On a failure the creature cannot attack on her next turn.

Upgrade: Can be applied to stamina

Upgrade: When Chance targets herself, roll a 1d20 instead of a 1d2 and 'A Crit's a Crit' applies.

Longshot (3): Upon a successful roll, Chance ignores range and sight requirements and can attack any point on the map.

Lucky Break (3): Chance causes massive property damage. (No roll needed.)

Upgrade: Lucky Break now does damage. How much? Who knows! (Roll a 1d12)

Never Tell me the Odds (Once per Combat, 3):

Make any d20 roll a 15.

Outclass:

Deus Ex Machina/Act of God/Asspull (1 BreakUp): The Heavens smile upon Chance and do one thing.

Overclass:

House Rules:

Currently Locked.

Imbuing:

Can spend 5 proficiency to create a +2 lucky charm usable once per combat (does not stack) or a single use +10 lucky charm.

Backstory:

Since by coincidence she was named after her epithet, Chance had her epiphany at a young age. As her powers grew, so did the chaos around her, constantly leading her into wacky and dangerous adventures causing her epithet to grow more powerful and chaotic. Chance always comes out in one piece and ever so slightly ahead because her epithet encompasses both good and bad luck.

Many people think that since she has a luck based epithet, that everything goes Chance’s way and do not acknowledge her hard work or intelligence. Though the irony is that she often has to rely on her epithet to get out of tough situations and those acts undermine the sense of agency Chance desperately craves.

Because Chance has a work effort, intelligence and luck ever so slightly in her favor, she views many of her peers as incompetent and gets easily frustrated when she has to constantly keep those around her out of danger.

Random Facts:

Always the best and most over dressed person at any party.

Dyes her hair way too often.

Surprisingly does not have a gambling problem.

Curses like a sailor.

Team mom.

#ee oc #epithet erased #Epithet oc #red wood divergence

7 notes · View notes

smokeybrandreviews · 5 years ago

Text

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: I Can Be Your Lifeguard

The Good

The Bad

The Verdict

#Smokey brand Movie Reviews #The Night Clerk

1 note · View note

its-no-biggie · 2 years ago

Text

yknow what, im not just gonna campaign in the tags for this one. do you know how mind blown i was when i first learned about imaginary numbers?? [hmmm. might have to start capitalizing i (the pronoun) to avoid ambiguity.]

one of the most beautiful things about math is that once you run into something that doesnt fit into the rules youve laid out, you MAKE NEW RULES. what happens in a system that only has natural numbers when you try to evaluate 5 - 7 ? "it doesnt work like that. you cant subtract a big number from a small number" -people who only use numbers for counting, probably. but MATHEMATICIANS are like, well, lets define a whole new set of numbers that work backward from 0, in the same way the naturals work forward from 0. then 5 - 7 = -2. [definitely not how this actually went down btw. just for illustrative purposes.] I mean, thats the reason -1 is still in this tournament! it defines a whole new set of numbers!

the imaginary numbers are just like that, except less useful, I guess? so theyre not taught until university. but they literally redefine how you see the number line! cause thats what the imaginary plane (edit: complex plane. cannot believe i forgot the name, can you tell i wrote this late at night lmao) is, its an extension of the number line. imaginary numbers, unlike what the name suggests, are not some nebulous, mysterious concept. its just a different type of number, with a unit defined by sqrt(-1). it completely changes how you think about numbers!

that kind of discovery..... that moment when a simple concept - I wonder what would happen if we defined sqrt(-1)? - opens up a whole new world of mathematics. its what makes me love math so much. there are truly endless possibilities, and its so much fun to stumble across some new field of math that you didnt even know existed, with its own rules and applications.

and thats really the spirit of this tournament, isnt it? most of my votes so far have been for numbers that come from entire fields or applications of mathematics that the average person hasnt even heard of, like the different types of infinities, or star, or the order of the monster group. because the joy of discovering a new subset of mathematics through a random number you found online is worth so much more to me than properties like how many factors a number has or how useful it is. [that being said, I did campaign hard for belphegors prime. its funny, sue me.] I mean, for some of those numbers, like aleph null and TREE(3), I can distinctly remember the first time I learned about them, and how exciting it was! sure, I've seen some interesting videos about tau and the golden ratio and any number of notable primes. but being introduced to an idea that breaks down your preconceived notions of what math is and how numbers even work..... that moment is priceless.

a vote for i is a vote for those discoveries. vote i

[also like. I know that i is currently winning. I just thought it was an obvious choice and its a surprisingly close race so I'm campaigning anyway]

Number Tournament: TWO vs THE IMAGINARY UNIT

[link to all polls]

2 (two)

seed: 3 (66 nominations)

previous opponent: pi

class: prime number

definition: a couple

[Wikipedia article]

seed: 11 (46 nominations)

previous opponent: e

class: imaginary

definition: up one unit from the origin

[Wikipedia article]

#welcome to episode ??? of 'taking forever to get to the point'#i spent entirely too long writing this #enjoy #numbers talk #<- that tag will likely be used in the future for rambling about numbers. special interest go brrrrr

340 notes · View notes

blastron01 · 9 years ago

Text

Ascendance of a Bookworm – 043

Lutz's Education Plan

While I idly laze about in my bed, my fever returns, just like Lutz predicted. This fever, brought on by exhaustion, is mild, so all that happens is that my whole body feels heavy. Since this isn't the all-consuming fever of the devouring, I should be able to cure it with plenty of quiet bed rest.

That, at least, has been what I've been thinking over the past three days. Although I'm getting increasingly irritated about my unbroken fever, I get scolded whenever I try to leave my bed on my own, so even though I'm sluggish from oversleeping I can't do anything but stay in bed.

...Aaaaaargh, so bored.

Today is pig-slaughtering day. Unlike last year, I've managed to gain enough of my family's confidence that they're letting me stay here and watch the house by myself, so the headed out for that early in the morning. They made a sandwich for my lunch and filled everyone's cups with water and left them in the bedroom for me so that I would neither get too hungry nor get too thirsty without any way to deal with it.

In this dead-silent bedroom, I technically could move around if I wanted to, but I know that all that would do for me is make my fever linger even longer, so I don't have any choice but to stay quietly in bed. However, with nobody to even talk to, there's no helping it: I am so, so bored.

If only I had a book...

I have a tremendous quantity of failed prototype paper with me, but I still haven't used it. All it's been doing since I've brought it home has been sitting in the box at the foot of my bed, neatly stacked to one side, gathering dust. Ever since we successfully finished our prototype, I've simultaneously been really busy and really fired up about wanting to make my first book.

Above all, though, since these are failed prototypes, both the material quality and sizes are all over the place. While I do have some paper that's almost successful, I also have pieces that are such total failures that are badly ripped or crumbling to pieces. There's paper that's so thin that it's nearly see-through, to the point where I'm almost scared to touch it, and paper that we reinforced so much that it looks brittle enough to break.

Out of the pieces that were almost perfect, the ones that got twisted when we tried to paste them up to dry out are still probably the easiest to use. If I were more skilled with my knife, I might be able to use the sheets that dried successfully but we couldn't remove without ripping big holes in them, but cutting out only the pieces of the page that are actually usable proved to be surprisingly difficult. I really want a tiny, slender blade with a very sharp cutting edge, like a hobby knife. That would be much easier to cut with.

I think that if I wanted to make a book with this paper it would take a considerable amount of time. This winter I'll have a lot of extremely productive free time, it seems.

...Ah! Now that I think about it, even if I don't have a book, I have the board that Mister Benno gave me.

I remember that, before my fever flared up, Benno told me that I should look this over when I returned home. I think that I'll probably be fine if I read it while lying in bed.

I get up unsteadily, open the box that I keep my clothes in, and retrieve the approximately A4-sized board from my tote bag. Flopping back down on the bed, I start to read.

"This is... the outline of a training course for new employees."

It contains a listing of the minimum amount of knowledge that it's been decided that newly-entering apprentices should be taught. To break the contents down into broad categories, apprentices will need to know:

How to look after their appearance and give proper greetings.

How to write all of the fundamental letters and numbers.

How to use a calculator.

How to perform monetary exchanges to a certain degree.

The list of commodities in which the shop trades.

The names of the merchants that associate with the shop.

"Hmmm, the things the two of us can study ourselves are... writing, math, and monetary exchanges, I think. Everything below that is probably going to be taught to all of the new employees during training, so I think we can put it off for now..."

As I monologue, mumbling, I start making study plans for the winter.

First off, I wonder how many of the fundamental letters and numbers Lutz remembers? I taught them to him a while ago, but they're the kind of things that you tend to forget if you don't use. I'll need to verify what he's forgotten, then teach those to him again. Instead of practice sentences, I wonder how well it would work if I had him write out order forms, formal introductions, and so on? They're full of vocabulary words that he'll need for work, so I don't think there's much harm there.

To be perfectly honest, I actually don't know how to write many words that aren't strictly work-related. Here, there's no dictionary, and the words that have been taught to me were either drilled into me by Otto so that I could help him with the budget or are merchant-related ones taught to me by Benno or Mark. I think I've got a solid grasp on my work-related vocabulary. However, I don't know how to write any common nouns or verbs.

"As for using calculators, I know how to add and subtract, but I've never asked Mark about how to do multiplication or division on them so I don't know that yet, hmmm..."

I can work out all sorts of calculations by hand on my slate, but it's essential for me to learn how to be able to use a calculator, too. In order to avoid standing out too much from the other apprentices, I should be able to do things the same way that everyone else does.

"I really want to teach Lutz first- through third-grade arithmetic, but I don't have either textbooks or workbooks, so teaching him is going to be really tough. Since I have to prioritize, I think the counting system and doing large monetary conversions is probably the biggest priority, and then getting him to do addition and subtraction, at least in the ones digit. Then, we can move on to the general concepts of multiplication and division... wait, can we actually do this over the winter?"

Drilling in how to work with numbers takes three years, so of course doing all of it over the course of a single winter is impossible.

As I let out a heavy sigh, I notice that my fever is wriggling around inside me, a pressure building up like it's about to burst open. I press my fingertips into my temples, gritting my teeth.

I don't actually scream "don't come out," though.

Imagining tightly screwing on a lid, I shut it back away, then breathe a sigh of relief. It hadn't been for very long, but fighting against the devouring has actually made me hungry. I reach over and pick up the sandwich my family had left for me. I take a big bite then, while I chew noisily, start thinking about personal appearance and greetings.

"Now this is the biggest problem: looking after our appearance and giving proper greetings. Neither of us really know to what extent a merchant needs to prepare their appearance, or what kind of greetings and phrases are unique to merchants, if any..."

I have some idea of what the work clothes, which we will have to buy, are like, having seen the various employees at both Benno's shop and the Merchant's Guild. I have no idea how much any of that would actually cost, so I'll need to verify that with Benno later.

As for the greetings, those are on the list of things I want someone to teach me. I already know that people here don't ever greet each other by bowing, but I don't know what the correct way to greet someone in the merchant world actually is. All I've seen is people smiling at others who they've just met while lying through their teeth. Although, I have a hunch that neither Benno nor the guild leader had been doing any sort of typical greeting.

At some point, while I was staring at the board I got from Benno and thinking hard, I gradually drifted off to sleep again. When I wake up, I see my family's already returned home, and are busy bringing their various pork products into the storage room.

"Welcome back," I say. "Oh, hello, Maine! Did we wake you? How are you feeling?" "...Better, I think."

Now that I'm awake, I actually feel very refreshed, so I think my fever's gone down. Tomorrow, I'll still be staying at home so we can wait and see, but the day after tomorrow I think I'll be able to move around again.

The next day, Lutz, with a basket strapped to his back, stops by to pay me a visit on his way to the forest. Although my fever's gone down, today's another day in which I shouldn't be leaving my bed, so I'm extremely happy to have someone to talk to, even if it's only for a little bit.

"Hey, Maine! I heard you're feeling better? Tory told me a little while ago, when she met me downstairs." "Yeah, since last night. I'm staying home all day today to make sure, but tomorrow I think I'll be able to go out." "Oh, okay! It's been a long time since you've been sick for so long, I was worried."

It seems that both Lutz and my family have been very worried, since I haven't had a fever that's lasted this long in quite some time.

"You missed helping prepare the pork this year, too." "Ahhh, it just can't be helped, this time of year."

I've slowly become more-or-less used to going to the butcher's and seeing chickens get sliced up, but there's no way I can go along with the rest of the family thinking that I'm going to enjoy this once-per-year experience. I still can't even make myself want to participate. I actually caught myself thinking that I was so lucky that it came and went while I was still stuck in bed with a fever.

"Yesterday," I say, "I looked over the board that Mister Benno left us and put together an education plan for us. Tomorrow, I'd like to go to Mister Benno's shop, return this board, and ask him if I could buy a calculator, maybe..." "...Oh, that's right, what's on that board, anyway?"

Lutz claps his hands together, apparently having only just remembered that the board even existed, and leans forward curiously. He looks like he's ready to listen to every word.

"It's related to the education apprentices get. Lutz, how much of your letters and numbers do you think you remember?" "All the ones you taught me...?" he says, tilting his head doubtfully at me like the answer was obvious.

Startled, I open my eyes wide. I didn't expect in the slightest that he'd completely remember everything.

"What? Really?! You don't usually use them, but you haven't forgotten any?!" "...Well, you know, it's so rare for someone to be able to teach me things, so once I finally learned how to write, I didn't want to forget, so I kept writing on the ground or the wall with my finger, and then after I bought my slate I've been practicing on that ever since." "Lutz, that's amazing!"

Lutz is an even harder worker than I thought. Wait, no; I've still been thinking that it's only natural that people get educated, and that it's easy to get any information you want whenever you want it. I wonder if this is too naive? I've never actually thought about not wanting to learn knowledge that I'd finally received. After all, if I ever forgot it, I could just get a book and read about it again. If I just remembered what kind of books I can find things in, then I could easily obtain, on demand, any information that I wanted. I've never had a need to memorize the entire contents of it before.

"Nah, I'm not amazing at all. You're the amazing one, being able to read really large numbers like you can." "Then, I can teach you how to read big numbers too! Pick up that slate."

I teach him about the ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, and ever-larger digits. The town marketplace uses three-digit numbers, so he can read those easily, but it seems he doesn't understand numbers larger than that. Holding the slate in place, I run through the digits until Lutz starts counting along with me. After reading them aloud many times, I write up a series of suitably large numbers on the slate.

"Alright, question one. How do you read 78,946,215?" "Ummm, one, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million, ten million, so..."

Lutz tackles each problem earnestly and, in no time at all, starts to be able to read numbers up to the ten millions. I wonder what's higher, his memory or his concentration skills? Lutz's specs are way higher than I thought they'd be. We'll be able to put a ton of effort into studying this winter.

If he's this smart... there's not actually a single thing I can actually beat him in, is there?

As I start feeling a little sorry for myself, Tory comes back up from downstairs, bringing a bucket of water from the well with her. When she sees Lutz, she shouts in surprise.

"What the... Lutz?! Weren't you supposed to go to the forest? Everyone else left already, you know?!" "Yikes! Sorry, Maine. I gotta go! Thanks for teaching me!"

Panicking, Lutz shoots to his feet, then dashes out the door. At that speed, he should be able to catch up to everyone else well before they even reach the gate.

The next day, my family grants me permission to leave the house, so Lutz and I head out to Benno's shop in the afternoon, when he has the free time to meet with us. However, when we arrive, the entrance is closed, and a single guard stands quietly outside.

"Huh?" I say. "I guess it's still lunchtime..." "Want to go back to the central square and sit down for a bit? Standing around the whole time would be really hard, right?" "Yeah, you're right. Finding someplace to sit down sounds like a really good idea right now."

As the two of us discuss how we're going to kill the time, the guard beckons to us, as if he's completely recognized our faces.

"I'll go ask the master if it's okay to let you two in. Would please you wait here for a moment?" "Yes, sir, and thank you!"

The guard disappears into the shop, then immediately returns, opening the door wide to let us in. Inside, the shop is gloomy with the windows and doors shut. He leads us briskly back to the office in the back and opens the door. Inside, the sunlight streams brightly in through the window, and a brilliant fire burns within the hearth.

"Maine, are you feeling better now?"

Benno, who seems to have been in the middle of some work, sets aside his pen and ink and stands to greet us.

"Yes, sir. I've come to return this board to you. I also have some questions I'd like to ask, is that okay?" "Sure, go ahead. I've got some things I'd like to talk with you about too, but you two go first."

Benno gestures to the table we usually sit at, and prompts me to begin.

"Thank you very much for lending me this," I say. "Thanks to it, I was able to form some ideas about a plan for studying during the winter." "Oh?" "Ummm, as I was reading it, a few questions occurred to me. I understand that taking care of our appearance and giving proper greetings is necessary, but to what degree do we need to take care of our appearance? Also, if merchants have any specific greetings or phrases, unfortunately neither of us actually know them."

"Ahh," he says, studying us carefully.

"To start with, although you two are commoners living near the south gate, you aren't grungy at all, so all you need to worry about is your work clothes. You can get the minimum for about ten small silver coins, so if you start saving now, then by the summer you could probably afford it." "Ten small silver coins...," mumbles Lutz, dumbfounded. "I'm so glad I copied Maine and saved some away..."

To Lutz, whose mother spins thread and makes all of the clothes for her family, the concept of spending ten small silver coins on clothing and shoes comes as an enormous shock. I'm shocked as well, but clothing here is not something you get off the shelf. It's all made to order, so I thought that the price was going to be something around those lines. It's definitely very expensive, but it's still something that we could buy if we work very hard come springtime to earn money making paper.

"Next is your manner of speech. Maine, you're okay, but Lutz, you need work. You need to learn how to speak politely, otherwise I can't put you out in front of customers the way you talk now."

Lutz, having been singled out, is at a loss for words. Picking up how to speak politely is really difficult if nobody around him does it either. I try to think about who the best person for him to imitate would be, out of all the people we know.

"You could use Mister Mark as a reference for speaking politely." "...Urrrgh, it makes me really kinda... itchy, though."

I can sympathize with the unstable sort of feeling of being suddenly told to change one's manner of speech to something that's entirely unlike yourself. However, if he's unable to do so, he won't be able to stand out in the front of the shop. This is doubly true in Benno's shop, which is rapidly growing its base of noble clientele. If we want to climb to the top, we absolutely need to learn how to manage our appearance, our speech, and our manners.

"That's okay," I reassure him. "You can do it if you try! You know how Benno usually talks one way, then in front of customers he's suddenly speaking very politely? It would be great if you could do the same thing when you're dealing with customers, too."

Even though I've never actually seen Benno switch to a more polite manner of speech, even when talking to the guild leader, I'm certain that if he thought he had to, he could do it in a heartbeat. Otherwise, he'd be a terrible fit for a merchant.

"There's no real need for you to talk super politely to me or your family, you know? Also, when I'm talking with the guild leader or Mister Benno, I use different words than I do when I'm talking to you, right? Does that make you itchy. too?" "Now that you say that... nah, I guess not. You talk normally to me, so I guess I never really noticed."

If you can smoothly switch between modes, it's not something you ever notice. Even if you start out being uncomfortable with it, as you keep using polite speech, you rapidly become used to it.

"So, for the words you're going to be using just at work, why don't you try practicing how Mister Mark speaks? Start with things like addressing people as 'sir' and 'ma'am' and using 'please' and 'thank you' more often... I believe that would best, wouldn't you agree?"

As I switch to more polite phrasing for the last sentence, Lutz nods in comprehension.

"Yeah, sounds good, sir!" "Argh, no! I'm a girl, say 'ma'am'!" "Snrk! Gaahahahaha!"

Benno, having watched our exchange, erupts in a belly-bursting laugh, slapping the table uproariously, wiping tears from his eyes and clutching his sides.

"Ahaha... well, I have no idea how far you two can get over the winter, but keep at it, kids."

He shows no sign of calming down, so I peer at him in mild disapproval, though it doesn't seem to do much. I clench my fist tightly, resolving that we're going to make so much progress this winter that he'll be shocked. This jogs my memory, and I remember the favor I wanted to ask of him.

"Ah, that's right! Mister Benno?" "What's up?" "I'd like a calculator so that I can work on learning how to use it. If I can't practice, I won't be able to really master it."

Mark is capable of using his calculator very quickly, flicking beads around with his fingers while simultaneously thinking of the next steps. I probably won't be able to get quite as good as him, but for things like abacuses, practice is very important.

"A calculator, hmm... If a secondhand one from my shop is alright with you, I can sell it for six large copper coins. How does that sound? Can the two of you share one?" "Yes sir, thank you very much."

Lutz and I tap our guild cards together with Benno's, agreeing to pay him three coins each. He then gives us our new calculator.

"We'll be able to study math with this, Lutz." "Yeah," he replies. "Did you have anything else you wanted to ask?" says Benno.

Something immediately flashes to mind.

"Ah, I'll need to order a new contract sheet-sized paper frame before springtime, if that's not too much trouble..." "Just fill out an order form. Mark already knows what you're looking for, he can go handle it." "Huh? But..."

When we'd been going around to various places to place our orders, Mark had told us that if we weren't there ourselves to describe what we wanted, there's no telling what kind of trouble we might get ourselves into. I don't think leaving it all to him is the best idea.

"I've got something else I need you to do for me. Hey, just write it down, okay?"

Urged onwards, I draw my ordering set out of my tote bag. By now, I'm down to a single board that I can use for ordering.

"Mister Benno, it seems that I'm running out of boards for order forms..." "Yeah, you've done a lot of ordering, haven't you. I'll get you some more." "Whoa! I've almost run out of ink, too!"

Not only have I written a lot of orders, but when we were working on our prototypes, it was necessary for me to use even more ink in order to test how easy it was to write on the paper. I've used quite a lot of it by now.

When I say that, Benno's face tightens sharply. "...I want to charge you for this, but... well, whatever. I'll call this part of my initial investment."

I'm a little shocked by this. Otto had said that ink was very expensive and thus not a child's plaything. However, I'd never heard how much it actually cost.

Timidly, I ask, "If you'll pardon the digression, might I ask how much a bottle of ink would cost?" "About four small silver coins each." "Eek?!"

Lutz and I couldn't afford it even if we scraped together everything we've saved so far!

"Use it carefully," he warns me. "Y... yes, sir. Of course!"

I'd been thinking that I wanted some ink of my own to use for my book-making project, but I think I'll have to give up on trying to buy it. Using my leftover soot pencils is probably my best bet.

My pen scratches at the surface of the board as I write out my order. I'm very used to this by now. The tip of the pen quickly dulls, but Lutz immediately sharpens it again for me. I ask Benno to get an average-sized contract for me, use my tape measure to determine its size, and finish writing out the rest of the order.

Benno looks over my completed form, then nods slightly.

"No mistakes or spelling errors at all. I'll get this over to Mark. ...Maine, if you don't get that paper frame and can't make any paper, I'll be in just as much trouble as you. Don't worry about it, I'll make sure it's done right." "Thank you very much, sir."

I'm relieved to hear Benno say that he'll take responsibility for making sure it'll be made correctly. Breathing out slowly, I tidy up my ordering set.

"...Is that all you wanted to talk about, you two?" "Yes, sir," I say, nodding emphatically.

Benno sits up straight, his expression going serious. Guessing that this is going to be a discussion about some sort of transaction, Lutz and I straighten up as well.

"Well then, I've got something I'd like to ask as well. Maine, it's about the hair-washing liquid you taught me how to make." "What is it?"

I'd explained how to make it quite a ways back, when we were still in the middle of prototyping our paper, on one of the days where we were borrowing the key for the warehouse. I should have already told him everything. Since I've already relinquished all of my rights to it thanks to the contract magic, I have no idea whatsoever about what he could possibly have to ask after all this time. As I study him curiously, my head tilted to the side, his expression grows increasingly troubled as he opens his mouth to speak.

"You told me that melil oil is best oil to use, so I've been gathering it until now, but..." "Huh? Shouldn't melil be almost out of season? Have you not made anything yet?"

Lutz and I exchange glances. Melil should be about out of season. The two of us had gathered a lot of it already and made it all into simple shampoo. I would have thought that Benno, who is constantly seeking profit, would have started production a long time ago and would have sold a large quantity of it since then.

"Well, I'd acquired a large crop of them, and had a workshop start making it, but the other day they came to me and said that it wasn't coming out right, even if they made it exactly the way you said. Can you think of any reason that might be?"

I frown as I think about what he said. Fundamentally, the entire procedure boils down to just smashing, then pressing, then mixing in scents. I can't think of any place in the process that could actually go wrong. I tilt my head to the side in confusion, as does Lutz, who has helped me make shampoo countless times.

"...Even if they're saying it's not turning out right, if you're making simple shampoo, then... it's not a very difficult process, is it?" "I know, right?"

I have a ton of ideas on how to make it better, if I only had the ingredients, but in its current simple form, I can't think of a reason why it would ever fail. It always turned out the same no matter if it was me, Tory, or Lutz who was making it.

"I really didn't want to bring you out, but if we don't manage to complete this, then this will turn into something the contract magic would have to deal with. Sorry, but could you come with me to the workshop?" "Yes, sir!" I reply.

If I recall correctly, the penalties for violating a magical contract are very severe. In the worst case, they could even mean death. As soon as I cutely chirp out my immediate response, though, Lutz grabs hold of my arm.

"Maine, I think you should probably stop for today. Your fever's only barely just gone back down, and you're not all the way back to normal, right?"

Lutz is correct, but in this season there's not going to be a whole lot of time where I'm actually at peak health. This is definitely a season where my fever could flare up at any point, if I'm even just a little bit unprepared. If just not having a fever doesn't count as being healthy, then I'd never be able to leave my house for anything.

"But I don't know how long it'll take me to get totally healthy again, and if we let this go for too long then the snow is going to start falling, so we should go now, while my fever's down, right?" "Well, you're not wrong, but..."

Benno pats Lutz's worried head reassuringly. "Don't worry too much, Lutz. I'll carry her, so we won't be making her walk. Not like I can stand walking that slowly, anyway." "...Well, in that case, I guess it's okay, huh?"

With that, Benno picks me up once again, and we head out.

He asked me about what could have caused the failure, but I've never actually seen this fail before.

I wonder if he really understood me?

prev • next

#honzuki #honzuki no gekokujou

112 notes · View notes

smokeybrand · 5 years ago

Text

California State of Mind

I grew up in Meadowview, which was kind of a melting pot of a neighborhood, in a melting pot of a state. My first grade class was filled with every ethnicity you can imagine. White, Asian, Black, Indian, Mexican, and a few islanders. I say islanders because they ran the gambit from Hawaiian to Samoan to Tongan to Fijian and even a few Haitians We also had a couple Portuguese in there, too. Like, Meadowview had a surprisingly large Portuguese community. Looking back, that sh*t is kind of staggering how many of them there were. I didn't notice as a kid because who cares but, looking back as an adult, it was really a substantial amount. But this crop of kids, that first grade class, would be people i would call peers for the next twelve years of my life. Some of them, even more so. My best friend from grade school was an Asian kid named Peter. We used to larp out in the football field during recess and wanted to make games together. How big of a geek was I that I wanted to make video games with my best friend at eight years old? I used to go to his house and play DnD with him. Our other friend, Trevero, has a crush on Pete's older sister. It was weird. This was LONG before i met B, which is weird because he literally went to the elementary school a street over. It's odd how segregated we are as kids until we're not. It's like we were exposed to the world in incremental stages, which leads me to the next step in my exposure; The seventh grade.

When i got to seventh grade, i went to a different middle school than most of my classmates. I said farewell to these kids i spent my entire life with up to that point, and got bused to the rich middle school because the one in my neighborhood had a bad reputation. Surprisingly, that didn't matter because i was still put in remedial classes anyway. When i left grade school, i was doing algebra. Everyone thought this particular middle school would facilitate that but, because i bused in from the ghetto, they did not. It was mad surreal doing sh*t i had already mastered in, like, the second grade, because motherf*ckers thought less of me. For living in a poorer neighborhood. Still, Sam Brannan was good to me. I met a lot of dope motherf*ckers that i still talk to today. More to the point, this school as chock full of Asian kids. Like, SO many, man. It was insane how many Asians were in this joint. I mean, there were other kids, of course, but the vast majority of that school's student body was definitely Asian. Coming from my grade school where they were the minority, seeing this many Asian kids was captivating. I made friends with a lot of people that I didn't think i would ever have the opportunity to do so with, and it went a long way for broadening my already healthy cultural horizons. I was introduced to a plethora of Asian cuisine and philosophy. I met my first Buddhist there which sparked my interest in learning about the world's religions, not just Christianity. I didn't return to Brannan for my 8th grade year though. That school was kind of whack for the scholastic aspects. Instead, I went to Goethe, the school no one wanted me to go to in the first place.

Goethe was interesting. I met a lot of my oldest friends there. I met Kellen there. I met my first real crush, Melisandra, there. I met B there. That motherf*cker ended up being family and I miss him everyday. Tamika, David, Jay, Brittney, Shameka, Chris, and Alaina. I mean, not s much Alaina. She was my Dad's best friend's niece so I kind of knew her from other things. I met a chick named Sparkle and another one named Star. I met a neighborhood bicycle name Tawana, i think. A friend of mine from that first grade class knocked her up that year. I met my first chola named Anneletta who tried to stab a b*tch in my first period history class. Mr. Varner, the teacher, straight up kicked the victim out into the wild to fend for herself when she ran into our class for help. Coldest sh*t, ever! That was wild. I went to my first school dance there and ended up slow grinding with my homey's ex. That was fun and later, real problematic. I came back to a school where the majority of kids were once again, black, where i knew so many people and was still able to meet so many more. There were definitively more of us but the ethnic mix was still pretty eclectic. So many races, so much cultural melding. And then i got to high school. That sh*t was wild.

I went to, statistically, the best high school in South Sacramento. All those overachieving Asian kids from Sam Brannan? They went to my high school. Everyone from 21st street up to Freeport, the f*cking ghetto i grew up in, went to my high school. That was basically everyone from my elementary and middle schools, all in one place. These two, independent worlds that i lived in, collided for the first time, and it was a little overwhelming at first. Mostly because the high school, Kennedy, wasn't just MY schools. Cats that I met when I stayed in G Parkway for that year, motherf*ckers I met when I went to the worst school ever, Parkway Elementary, found there way to my high school. So many people i didn't know, went to this school. Cats that came from super affluent areas. Motherf*ckers from straight up hoods. All of these people, so many different cultures and ethnicities, so many different financial and living situations, all trying to figure out who they are, who they are going to be, all at once; It was an experience. Looking back, it was actually kind of intense. Beautiful, but intense. Kennedy, for me, and I can only speak from my personal experience here, was like that first grade class but blown up to, like, thousands of kids, not just the thirty-three I started school with. I loved that part of it. Not so much the actual schooling. I stopped actually learning sh*t in class when I was in, like, the third grade. One I had the fundamental sh*t, addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, everything else was that an exercise in fact memorization. That's all the US education system is, memorizing mundane facts or tasks, and then regurgitating them on tests for grades. School is dumb.

The first time i saw a complete lack of diversity, was my first day of college. That was the whitest day of school i ever had in my entire life. It was surreal. I had just the last two decades surrounded by a rainbow of color, of culture, of perspective, and now it's all milky white. That was the first day that i really understood, on tangible, conscious level, what it meant to be white and privileged. You hear all of the statistic and the numbers about how minorities don't make it to higher education, how hard it is for black kids in particular, to make it out of high school without a rap sheet or even f*cking alive, but to see it in real time like that? To experience that sh*t on your first day of real school? It's mad disheartening. Of course there was a semblance of diversity on my college campus, it is a college, but i knew i was definitely a minority at that point. I knew for a fact that there was less people who looked like me, at this level, and it kind of hurt. It hurt even more as i got older and learned that was the norm, not the exception. I mean, you always know. I can only speak for black folks, but you're taught at an early age that you, as a colored person, are an endangered species in the US. That you have to be twice as good at everything just to get half of what my white friends would have. But to see it as an adult? To actually witness that sh*t firsthand? There's no amount of preparation that can prepare you for that rude awakening. Reality hits you like a ton of bricks once you finally get outside of that social bubble you grew up within. And it gets worse the farther away from the scholastic world you get. The last job I held had maybe ten black people there at any one time. Ten. Realistically, less than that. Usually around five. I have held about seven jobs in my life and at three of them, I was the only black dude. That's my reality.

I said all of that to give perspective on this: I've never not been surrounded by diversity until i was grown. The formative years of my life were spent exposed to almost every major culture and race of the world. I didn't grow up with a lot of white kids in my neighborhood but they were there. I was able to get their perspective, to understand what it was like to be white in a world of color. I was able to see that the ones who lived with us, were just like us. I didn't grow up segregated in our own, little, Negro areas, I grew up in a cornucopia of different people. The crew i rolled with in high school was full of black kids, sure, but these were cats I've known since i was, like, twelve. We were tight going nto Kennedy but that doesn't mean were weren't inclusive when we got there. We never discriminated against anyone, ever. We made friends with everyone. Our locker was opened to anybody who was chill and could play dominoes. Hell, there was this little Asian kid that Bryan brought once and he just never went away. Motherf*cker never talked but dude was chill as f*ck. Cats would give him sh*t but that stopped when he started posting up with us. That's the energy of California. That's the energy i learned growing up. That's the energy i carry to this day.

My best friend was an Asian kid until i got to the tenth grade where B and i shared that English class and got super tight. The person i was closest with in seventh grade, was a Japanese girl that i met in PE named Jamie Hom. My first, real, girlfriend was named Maristella Cordova and she was Brazilian. The first girl i ever danced with in eighth grade, Tina, was Hmong. I played football with all of the giant Samoans and Magic with the nerdy Asian kids. I was in BSU and a ghost member of the Anime club. My kid sister is Desi, one of my closest friends is Puerto Rican, my baby sister is white, and my chick is Mexican. I can't fathom what it's like to not have that diverse perspective but, statistically, my experience is rare as f*ck. The experiences my friends and i shared growing up here, in California, are rare as f*ck. Our diversity isn't the norm, it's the exception. There are more places like Idaho, where ninety-three percent of that population is white, than there are places like California. Its not that we're super liberal, it's that we don't exist in an entitled echo chamber. We don't have xenophobia because we were constantly surrounded by the xenos. We have so many different voices, so many different perspectives, that we can't help but be progressive. It takes a diverse perspective to think forward and we have diversity in spades out here. If the majority of the people who live here, grew up like i did, then of course we'd be the most progressive state in the union. How can we not be?

I don't have a point of reference for alienating the Other. We were all Others. I grew up in a neighborhood of Others. I went to school with a peer group of Others. My family is made up of Others. Being different, being the Other, has never mattered to me. It doesn't matter, period. People are people, regardless of race, creed, or sexuality. That's why California is different. We celebrate that diversity here. We make it a point to use our differences as strengths, always have. That's why i don't understand all of that MAGA sh*t. I mean, go off with your ignorance but it doesn't matter. You can't make America great again because you've conflated whiteness for greatness and there are too many people with melanin for that to ever be a thing again. You can march and scream and gerrymander and voter suppress and poll watch and whatever else but it's all for not. There are more of us than there are of you. There re more people like me, who grew up like me, than there are of you, here, in California. Rail against the Others all you want. Vilify those who champion diversity. Try and force your witness on these who aren't white. Heep on with that wild, embarrassing ignorant sh*t. I'm just going to be over here, with my Desi sister, my Mexican lady, and black homeys, laughing at your narrow ass life choices. How sad is it people choose to deny themselves so much rich dopeness and shine because of some misplaced idea of supremacy? Segregation is stagnation, man. That sh*t is how you become irrelevant. That sh*t is how you go extinct.

0 notes