#and the exposition isn’t tedious

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 39 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)    

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Fight Exposition Club

Wei Wuxian hollers into the smoke, saying things to provoke Xue Yang, in the hopes that he’ll come fight properly, so Lan Wangji can shank him. Wei Wuxian is figuring out a new way to be a battle couple with Lan Wangji. Without flinging a lot of yin energy around he can’t fight back-to-back with him like they did during the Sunshot campaign, but he can use his mastery of tactics to bring enemies into range of Lan Wangji’s sword arm.

Xue Yang repeatedly sneaks up on Wei Wuxian, rolling natural 20s on his stealth checks even when he’s in extremely plain sight. 

Come on, Wei Wuxian. Try harder. 

They trade trash talk and Wei Wuxian points his flute a lot while Xue Yang tilts his head a lot. 

(More after the cut!)

This scene is tedious but it does give Xue Yang a chance to explain his motivations and philosophy. Why do we need to know? Because he’s here to provide a contrast to Wei Wuxian. Notably, he says, of his massacre of the Chang clan, “since I want to kill that whole family in Yueyang, then I wouldn’t even leave their dog alive.” 

As we get to know Xue Yang, he seems to be into murdering entire clans, and it’s easy to assume he picks them at random. But in fact, his killing of the Chang clan was his revenge for a grievance, and he waited until he earned Wen Ruohan’s permission before he embarked on his massacre. He’s not an uncontrolled spree murderer, despite talking and preening like one. His killing of Song Lan’s sect was also revenge for a grievance. 

The problem with Xue Yang’s murderous tendencies isn’t that they are uncontrolled or random; it’s that he has no sense of proportion, and no mercy. Contrast this with Wei Wuxian, who went on his own revenge-driven killing spree, but even as he massacred the Wens at their corporate offices, he left Wen Qing alive. And once he’d killed those directly responsible for the massacre of the Jiang clan, he turned to actively saving other Wens.  

Active Listening

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji’s fight coordinator is on a smoke break, so Lan Wangji has nothing to do for several minutes except turn around trying to see or hear something through the fog. He keep this move fresh by executing it in as many different ways as possible.

You’ve got the head turn with hair flip...

the “eyes first” head turn...

the fast head turn...

and the body turn while the head stays put.

Nailed It

After conversing through the mist for a while, Xue Yang decides he’s going to try to stick nails in Wei Wuxian, like those he used on Song Lan. 

Wei Wuxian’s fight coordinator is taking a nap, so he just stands there helplessly while the nails come straight at him. Fortunately Wen Ning has some moves prepped, and he comes sailing in -- flying faster than two metal projectiles, which is a neat trick -- to intercept the nails. 

He squeezes them to make sure they’re dead, and drops them as dramatically as possible. 

Wei Wuxian gets in on the head-turning action for a bit, until he figures out that A-Qing is helping them. 

A-Qing is even better at listening than Lan Wangji is, and she knocks her stick on the ground when Xue Yang is near her. 

This allows Lan Wangji to throw Bichen right through Xue Yang’s chest.

Unfortunately, Xue Yang is busily stabbing A-Qing in the heart already.

Wei Wuxian runs over to A-Qing, but he’s too late...since she’s not a cultivator, the wound is fatal.

If you find the low camera angle and the lens distortion here familiar, there’s a reason for that.

Actually, the whole situation is familiar, isn’t it?

Right down to the white clothes and the pierced heart.

Sigh. At least A-Qing’s death was part of her own fight with Xue Yang, not someone else’s story. She put herself in harm’s way to use Lan Wangji as her weapon.

Lay Down Your Arms

Speaking of pierced hearts, I feel like Xue Yang’s chest wound should be bleeding at least as much as his mouth is bleeding, but what do I know?

Xue Yang goes to attack Wei Wuxian, hollering as he does it. At least I think he’s targeting WWX; the blocking in this scene is confusing. Anyway, this gives Lan Wangji the opportunity to do the greatest fight move of his entire career.

He throws Bichen at Xue Yang, severing his arm in such a way that the arm spins around and hits Xue Yang with his own sword.

Fuck Yeah Hanguang-Jun!

Note: if you like Xue Yang’s fight scenes as much as I do, check out my fanvid over here. 

Now I’ve Gotta Turn My Back on You

Once Xue Yang is unable to fight, Su-She-in-a-mask appears, initially trying to rescue him. 

Su She goes to grab XY’s shoulder to teleport him out out there, but Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji react simultaneously, throwing a talisman (WWX) and Bichen (LWJ) at his hand, forcing him to let go. 

So he yoinks the Yin Tiger Seal from Xue Yang’s vest pocket and them bamfs himself away, leaving Xue Yang to his fate.

Xue Yang takes a moment to contemplate how well and truly fucked he is. 

Then he cackles gleefully, since that’s his response to anyone having a terrible day, including himself, apparently. 

This inspires Song Lan to finish pulling himself together so that he can finish Xue Yang. 

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji leave him to it instead of sticking around to make sure XY is really dead this time. Remarkably, this does not result in a miraculous escape for Xue Yang, and Song Lan stabs him, mortally wounding him. 

Then, as Xue Yang lies bleeding out in the road, the show pulls an amazing switcharoo, giving us Xue Yang's perspective on the events leading up to his death, explaining his perspective and giving new depth to his character.  Still evil, still an asshole, but also a victim, with a temperament formed by trauma and injustice. 

Flashback Time

Flashback-Xue-Yang tells Flashback-Xiao-Xingchen what he’s done. First we get him gloating as he explains what he’s done to XXC.

Then he explains why. We circle around and around until we arrive at his central trauma: the encounter with Sect Leader Chang that cost him his finger and turned him into a vengeance machine. 

When he was busy carrying out his long-planned revenge on the Chang clan, Xiao Xingchen interrupted him, with Song Lan’s help, so he extended his revenge plan to include them. And because he has no sense of proportion, he wasn’t content with killing them; he wanted to destroy them, particularly Xiao Xingchen, whose idealism deeply offends Xue Yang. 

Everything he did to Xiao Xingchen was basically an elaborate way of saying, “the world is worse than you believe it to be.” 

His plan comes to fruition when he tells Xiao Xingchen everything he has done to him, culminating in showing him what they - together - have done to Song Lan. 

Unfortunately it works too well, because Xiao Xingchen is so horrified and disillusioned that he cuts his own throat, falling dead while Xue Yang watches in horror. 

Song Lan’s tiny, perplexed reaction to Xiao Xingchen’s death--the first thing he’s reacted to since losing his fight with Xue Yang--always breaks my heart.

Then things get really weird. Xue Yang is determined to resurrect Xiao Xingchen, following the same protocols that Wei Wuxian developed for reviving Wen Ning. But his version is way, way creepier. 

Initially his plan is to add Xiao Xingchen to his collection of fierce corpses, because the dead are easier to control.  But as time passes and XXC fails to wake up, Xue Yang becomes more and more distraught, showing what looks like a genuine attachment to Xiao Xingchen. 

This doesn’t make him less of an abuser, but it does make him a lot more interesting and complex of a character.

As the flashback ends, Xue Yang’s last thought is about Xiao Xingchen giving him candy, simply out of the kindness of his heart. 

Ultimately, Xiao Xingchen teaches him, at the very end of his life, that the world is--slightly--better than Xue Yang believed it to be.  

The Point of It All

Of the many parallels we see in Yi City, the arc of Xue Yang’s life compared with the arc of Wei Wuxian’s is particularly important.  

They each have similar talents; they each had similar beginnings. But Wei Wuxian has a kind heart and a yearning for justice, while Xue Yang is relentlessly cruel and cynical. Why?

The answer, I think, is this guy:

When Xue Yang was a hungry street urchin, he encountered Sect Leader Chang, who reviled him, beat him, and grievously injured him, setting him on the path of vengeance, murder and mayhem. When Wei Wuxian was a hungry street urchin, he encountered Sect Leader Jiang, who fed him, elevated him to a high status, and taught him, by example, to value and protect the weak.

Xue Yang responded by wiping out every member of the Chang clan. Wei Wuxian responded by tearing himself apart in order to ensure the continuation of the Jiang clan, as well as becoming the hero of the Sunshot campaign, a champion for the weak, and the cultivation partner of the most righteous dude in the Jianghu.

Jiang Fengmian wasn’t a good parent (understatement), but he was a pretty good sect leader, and at a crucial moment, he chose kindness.  That moment ripples outward through families and sects, across generations, into the wider society.  How a man chooses to interact with a hungry child can ultimately shape the entire world. 

...damn it, Yi City, you made me appreciate Jiang Fengmian! 

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #ep39 #canary3d-original #that's rough buddy

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 52 – The Gods Are Bastards Volume Three by D. D. Webb

Okay this is properly a review for Books 8, 9, and 10 of the gargantuan serial – which I’ll freely admit I read more than a month ago in one week-long fugue along with all the books before them and the next few after. Which is to say I really shouldn’t have waited this long to write this review, and my apologies for all the vagueness and inaccuracies that are going to result. Which is a pity, because this is the best volume of the serial I’ve read and it isn’t even particularly close.

The serial continues the story of a Dungeons & Dragons-esque generic fantasy world advanced a couple hundred years and in the throes of a magical industrial revolution. The story theoretically stars the now-sophomore class of almost comically privileged and powerful students at what’s basically Adventurer University, but compared to the previous volumes they get barely any screentime in this one. Instead you get the Bishop of the god of thieves, the Archpope of the Universal Church, their respective pet openly-plotting-and-near-mutinous adventuring parties, political intrigue in the goddess of war, and a huntsman we’ve never met before learning the secrets of creation and also that his god was always just kind of a dick. It’s great! Also, to reiterate, the students get barely any screentime!

Really I kind of get the sense that I’m a deeply atypical fantasy reader, in that I find 90% of both involved romance plots and drawn out action scenes deeply tedious and basically the price you pay to get at the good parts of the story. In this case the good part is incredibly byzantine and too-complicated-by-half political shadowboxing carried out by proxies only barely kept on their masters’ leashes. Also several thousand words of pure exposition about the deep lore of the setting delivered by a malfunctioning AI.

Because yes, the big massive reveal of the volume is that the elder gods who were overthrown millennia before the story began had actually pulled a Lord of Light. The world runs on generic fantasy tropes because it was created by powermad demiurges who were also specifically insufferable 20th/21st century earth fantasy nerds. The different types of magic were just the results of them folding and rewriting physics, the fact that mortals can only access four is down to the vast majority getting wrecked when their creators died in the Titanomachy. Gnomes are an apparently successful attempt to perfect humanoid life.

This is, first and foremost, an absolutely hilarious bit of worldbuilding. Like, I actually burst out laughing. Knowing that orcs existed because the elder gods were big Tolkein and Warcraft fans may have permanently damaged my ability to take the setting seriously on its on terms but like, honestly? Probably worth it. Also just an excellent excuse for any shotcuts of contradictions in the worldbuilding and for all the kind of lazy fantasy worldbuilding tropes.

While it hasn’t happened yet, I hold out some hope that the increased pivot to the divine and Deep Lore means the serial will start to live up to its title and foreground the gods and their bastardry more – as I’ve said before, a narrative where the literal lords of creation are present but only because they just show up sometimes to descend to earth and make the protagonists lives easier is just boring. Which is why Archpope Justinian, the scheming mastermind who wants to overthrow heaven and earth and works exclusively through needlessly convoluted schemes that don’t stop a single person from knowing he’s to blame. I’m sorry but ‘somehow brainwashed the gods into making him their high priest so he can use the resources of their church as his personal power base’ is such a great bit. Also he’s opposed by literally every major POV so of course I need to root for him. (Honorary mention to Basra Syrinx, who is literally just The Worst in an incredibly entertaining way)

#book review #web serial #sff #the gods are bastards #d. d. webb

[bestworstcase]

LORE

FIRST.

- so denizens of the ever after don’t die (except when they do), they ascend; ascension occurs when they break or get used up; ascension “makes them into the them they wanted to be when they were still them” whereafter they come back to rediscover their purpose—which might be the same as before, but might not. a denizen who ascends leaves their memories behind, but emotional impressions linger

- ascension is reincarnation. they reincarnate.

- they reincarnate in a manner that does not allow trauma to accumulate across lifetimes, reincarnation can be either a renewal of one’s purpose or a transformation into something else, and the process at least seems to be fully voluntary; the cat suggests that herb had the opportunity to do so for quite some time but hadn’t taken it because he didn’t recognize that he had fallen into a rut, or as the herbalist put it he was a ‘workaholic.’

- (all of this makes the cat’s snark about how ozma reincarnates like 100x funnier THE CAT ALSO REINCARNATES!)

- the cat says that this information is not in the book because “exposition is terribly boring!” and they found even their own explanation to be tedious—blake wonders “what else alyx left out.” in 4, the cat describes alyx as “hilariously concerned with trivial things” and in this one they imply alyx was equally as upset and unsettled by ascension as team rwby is; per blake alyx’s ignorance of the local customs also started a war. it seems like a solid bet that ascension was one of those “trivial things” that concerned alyx so much, and if she was a real person who wrote her own story her decision to omit it raises some questions—but

the cat doesn’t say that alyx left it out. the cat says it isn’t in the book because exposition is boring. in 4, when weiss says that alyx wrote a book, they reply, “a book! is it well liked?” and they later praise team rwby’s tale of the origins of remnant as “a rather entertaining summary.” the girls are accustomed to the way ozpin uses fairytales—only a day ago he even cited this one to articulate his apology to them!—and they’re trying to interpret ‘the girl who fell through the world’ through that lens, but the cat’s concern is for the craft of storytelling itself; it doesn’t matter to them whether the book is accurate or not, they care about whether it makes a good story, and likewise their interest in remnant appears to come from emotional investment in the story.

there’s also an odd little discrepancy between 4 and 5; the cat is surprised when weiss tells them alyx wrote a book about her time in the ever after, and they ask “what did she write about? how am i portrayed?” …but then when blake remarks that ascension isn’t mentioned in “the story,” the cat confidently replies “of course not! exposition is terribly boring!”—an assertion that suggests not only close familiarity with the story itself but also with the author’s creative reasoning. if this were another character we might put the latter statement down to assumption founded on the cat’s own feelings, but the cat is meant to be curious. they do have some blind spots (like assuming that remnant must be structured similarly to the ever after), but when yang expresses confusion about how the ever after works, the cat immediately identifies their own incorrect assumption and asks a question to clarify. that blake’s confusion here does not incite any curiosity from the cat suggests that the cat knows the answer with certainty.

the cat knows the story and its author. they didn’t know that alyx wrote a book.

they also treat team rwby rather like characters from an interesting story—to them “when can we stop being six inches tall?” and “how are you going to stop that scary sorceress?” are problems of roughly equivalent concern. if alyx herself was a fictional character, i don’t think the cat would understand the difference?

i don’t… think they realize that “the story” means “the book alyx wrote.” i think the cat’s (mis)understanding is there’s The Story and then there’s the autobiographical book alyx wrote after she went home, when in actuality there’s just The Story and the girls have incorrectly attributed it to alyx.

- on a somewhat related note, the cat has a hard time with names. they mishear “weiss” as “wise huntress” and struggle to accurately recall the name of the “scary sorceress” the girls told them about—and they call the herbalist herb, a shortening of his chosen purpose. ruby and alyx are the only name-names that the cat has never stumbled over; but if alyx was a fictional character invented for the story, then in the ever after’s terms being alyx IS her purpose. (see also, “and to ‘ruby rose’ is your purpose?” and “how does one ‘little?’”—while most denizens seem to adopt descriptive titles, it’s established right off the bat that an actual name can count as a purpose if that is how a denizen chooses to think of themself.)

- (if we take the ever after as a fictional story then ascension fits very tidily as a representation of the function of character within a narrative; once a character has completed their role they disappear from the story, and if a character designed to fill a certain role turns out to not be quite right they might be ‘removed’ and reworked until they fit better—and of course no character ever truly disappears, writers recycle old characters and return to favored archetypes all the time. the same but different, both new and old.)

SECOND.

- neo’s constructs can mimic voices now.

- they also seem to be considerably more robust—the first one tanks a charge and then a kick from juniper and multiple punches from yang before it finally shatters.

- using neo’s upgraded semblance to dial up the jabberwalker’s threat level and give the girls something to fight without killing the jabberwalker is fucking brilliant, narratively

- i’m not afraid of you; you’re only the unwritten pages of my book LMAO??

- ahem. so, functionally within the ever after the jabberwalker is The Ending, said to be the only being capable of stopping the reincarnative cycle of other denizens. in ‘the girl who fell through the world,’ alyx fights a jabberwalker after meeting the hunter mice but before the peddler stole her knife; rust!jaune is disturbed by the horde’s onslaught because “there’s only supposed to be one.”

- but the jabberwalker we met in 1-3 doesn’t line up very well with the jabberwalker as described by the cat in 5—or rather, the cat’s description of the danger is notable in that it isn’t a description of the jabberwalker’s purpose. the jabberwalker is an ending, but he spends his time roaming, searching, watching. his acre is in ruins and he wants to fix it… and he shrinks away from confrontation and flees when he’s attacked.

- the jabberwalker clones created by neo are way more aggressive than the real thing and do in fact rip one of the denizens apart while team rwby escapes (so, another tally in the “the people from remnant are the true danger” column here, and one that raises the question of whether being eaten by one of neo’s copies has the same consequence as being eaten by the real jabberwalker?)

- there’s some interesting threads being tacked down here, is what i’m saying. the jabberwalker is an ending but ending things is not his purpose; he is timid despite his fearsome reputation and what he seems to actually want is a way to fix his ruined home; we last encountered him running away from neo, and now neo is in the gardens driving everybody away from the market with a wave of jabberwalker clones who actually live up to the fearsome reputation. what happened to the jabberwalker himself between then and now?

- i don’t think neo killed him. i don’t think it makes sense for the narrative to establish why the real thing is dangerous unless that danger is real, so either the real jabberwalker is still in play or we’re dealing with a “kill the jabberwalker, become the jabberwalker” kind of situation. the juxtaposition between the real jabberwalker’s behavior and the aggression of neo’s attack on the marketplace also does not seem like a thread the narrative is likely to drop, and i think the most intuitive direction from here is to connect the dots between reality and reputation (<- on theme). the specific possibility that he and neo teamed up and coordinated the attack on the market together is intriguing, particularly because the clones do not seem to be targeting ruby specifically and that suggests a really profound change in neo’s priorities.

- if neo and the jabberwalker are allies now, then the assault on the marketplace might have been motivated by need? the jabberwalker is feared, an outcast, whatever he needs to fix his home he can’t just stroll into town for—and before she got in way over her head in the apocalypse war, neo was a petty thief. simple math.

- otherwise either neo is just stalking them (but then why not chase after them?) or the jabberwalker’s purpose is to cause endings but only if certain criteria are met, hence the ‘searching, observing, retreat’ stuff—but in the latter case that opens the question of how in the world neo got involved, so it doesn’t seem altogether likely.

- HA. OH NO

which brings us to

THIRD.

- the blacksmith isn’t the carpenter the blacksmith is the tree

- or an aspect of the tree, at least. the symbol hanging over the entrance to her forge is a maple leaf; and you do not go to the tree, the tree goes to you

- the blacksmith invites ruby to “set your burden down” by choosing “any one of these [weapons] you like.” ruby answers “i already have a weapon, or… i did” and the smith says “and yet, here you are: searching for something else that you do not even know.” this is the first time ruby has directly acknowledged that crescent rose is missing and it is echoed later when she instinctively reaches for crescent rose only to flinch when it isn’t there.

- the weapons ruby examines in this scene are penny’s sword, alyx’s knife, and summer’s rifle-axe—two of which have no logical reason to be here and one of which might be outright fictional. there’s also the apparent peculiarity of the offer the smith makes to her: you seem to be carrying a rather large burden, choose any of these that you like to set your burden down. in the literal sense she seems to be inviting ruby to take up another burden, heft the weight of another person’s weapon—but.

- i think what the blacksmith actually meant is that each of the unique weapons is a manifestation of the burdens ruby carries—her grief for penny, her mother’s overwhelming legacy, the pressure she’s putting on herself to get everyone home by acting out alyx’s story; the invitation is not to choose a new weapon per se but to choose a specific burden to bring back with her to the surface.

- “you’re doing this all alone?” <- the blacksmith doesn’t make her offer until after little definitively states that ruby is their friend and they want to help her. ruby says “i can handle it” and the blacksmith goes alright, but if you change your mind, here’s what you can do. ruby takes what she sees at face value and assumes the smith wants to give her a new weapon, but the blacksmith replies that it isn’t what it seems; that ruby is here “searching for something else that you do not even know”—the weapons are a symbol, a metaphor for something else.

- and if the blacksmith calls to ruby and speaks to her in the depths of her subconscious, then metaphorically speaking choosing a weapon and bringing it back to the waking world means dislodging something buried and allowing herself to examine it and feel it openly, with the support of her friend(s), and in so doing lay the burden down

- but ruby declines the offer. she gets just enough of a glimpse at what her deepest problem is to rattle her before she ‘wakes up’ and it all gets buried again and what happens instead is her friends are irritated because she hasn’t done the One Errand she was supposed to do. nothing gets addressed. her pain gets buried again, she gives away her mom’s broach to get what her friends need, she can’t fight to protect them, she can’t get them out of danger, she has to run and hide with the cat while everyone else tackles the jabberwalker—like it’s all compounding and setting in deeper than before. the only way she can set any of it down is by choosing to lift it up and carry it into the light of day first.

FOURTH.

- if jaune really has been here for decades he must know some of the ever after’s secrets

- but i’m actually not convinced that’s the case

- because

- jaune is the hatter

- and the hatter’s relationship with time is fucky in a different way; time spurns him and abandons him, and as hatta he is punished for crimes he has yet to commit. the ever after is already riffing on wonderland’s spatial and temporal malleability and without knowing what happened to jaune after he fell i don’t think we have quite enough information yet to conclude definitively that he just happened to land a few decades before team rwby did

- the hatter becomes unmoored from time when the queen of hearts accuses him of murder and he is thereafter trapped in the purgatory of teatime, going around in circles with no time to clean the dishes (=rusted armor); if ruby’s devastation can twist the ever after’s weather within her vicinity, and trying to go to the tree causes you to walk endlessly in circles what might jaune’s guilt do to his experience of time?

- the blurriness between jaune-the-person and rusty-the-character is intriguing for what it might suggest about alyx; was she a person or a character? is the rusted knight of ‘the girl who fell through the world’ a character whose purpose jaune has chosen to adopt as his own or was jaune so displaced in time that he became the rusted knight alyx later encountered? (do people from remnant who decide to immerse themselves in the ever after also experience the cycle of ascension and reincarnation—and if that’s what’s going on why is jaune able to retain his memories?)

- like… 55% rusty ascends and comes back as jaune by the end of the volume, 40% rusty and jaune turn out to be separate entities after all and we’re dealing with a hatter/hatta split, 5% jaune just stays middle-aged for the remainder of the story

- “exposition is terribly boring!” [ends the episode by teasing more exposition] 10/10 excellent joke

#rwby v9 spoilers

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Jurassic Park Daily - The Tour (I)

I remain continually impressed with how the movie dealt with this section. In general, few things in a movie are more boring than exposition dumps, and rewatching an exposition dump is even worse. But at least to me, the movie never feels tedious; somehow the combination of the silly little animation, seeing how all the characters react to the information provided, the hatching raptor (rather than the young one seen in the book), works to keep things engaging.

The ground-up-bones bit in the book doesn’t make sense to me: they’re saying they can extract protein, not DNA, so it doesn’t seem like it would help.

(Really, there’s no reason any of this should work. How do they know all the DNA in a sample is from the same animal? What if the mosquito bit multiple species of dinosaur? How would they isolate dinosaur DNA from mosquito DNA? For that matter, how would they know the mosquito bit a dinosaur rather than something else? But it’s close enough to plausible to provide a decent foundation for the story.)

Also, if the dinosaurs are used to a 33% oxygen environment, how are they surviving? Isn’t modern earth, like, 21%? That’s too big a difference.

The bit with Tim and the raptor was freaking me out, after the similarly-sized compy attacking Tina.

#jurassic park #jurassic park daily

[littlemisssquiggles]

So…about the FIFTH episode of RWBY Volume 9…

We're at the half way mark folks! Just five more episodes to go.

Apologies for skipping the fourth episode. Last week, this squiggle meister was a little under the weather. While I did watch the episode, I wasn’t up for sharing my usual first impressions on it. Granted, I will say now that I was a wee bit disappointed by the fourth episode when I first watched it.

[SPOILERS AHEAD! NUFF SAID]

Not implying that it wasn’t good since I definitely enjoyed the bits that introduced a bit more lore of the Ever After. I guess I was mostly disappointed by how quickly we got to this aspect of the story---the part where RWBY encounter the Smoking Caterpillar-inspired character who was introduced o as the Herbalist or simply “Herb” for short. For me, I was expecting this part to come later but I was deeply mistaken.

I had a hunch that the Herbalist would’ve forced Team RWBY to undergo some type of mystical test but I more pegged it to have come later after more adventures and encounters in the Ever After when Ruby was at her lowest and the test would’ve been her breaking point. But I guess this episode was more the start to Ruby’s breakdown than the final straw.

Overall, the more the story progresses, the more confused I become as to what the Ever After really is or rather what it’s meant to represent in the grand scheme of the world building in RWBY.

And coming out of today’s episode, it really is starting to sound as if the Ever After is some kind of limbo world. Like RWBY’s version of purgatory. It’s not the Land of the Living but it’s not the After Life either. It’s inbetween.

A place where people can come and possibly be born again---somewhat like reincarnation but not really? Certainly not the kind Ozma went through.

It’s the conversation between RWBY and the Curious Cat that truly got me thinking.

“...When we break or wear out or simply finish what we were made to do, we are called back. But Herb, his heart was too weak to listen so I gave him a little bit of mine.”

“...Is he dead?”

“...No, no, no. Well maybe a little bit. But not at all.”

“...Which is it?”

“Now that Herb’s properly returned, he’ll be fixed up nice and made into the Herb he wanted to be when he was still Herb then he’ll come back and find his purpose. Could be the same as before or maybe not.”

“When Herb comes back, will he remember anything?”

“What would be the point of that. Just like Alyx, you lot. I know where your from, things die. But we’re just not like you at all. We ascend. Herb will have a purpose again.”

“That’s impossible. Things have to die someday, right?”

“What happened to Herb, is that what happened to the King?”

“The Red King could not cope when he lost to Alyx. A crying mess. Thankfully he was called back and fixed up and how he’s the prince you met.”

“Fixed up? The prince was worse.”

“The prince isn’t supposed to be nice. He’s meant to play the game and win. No matter what.”

“So that’s why he cheats; when the Red King didn’t. But that still doesn’t explain why the Red Prince was so much meaner.”

“While the prince may not remember Alyx’s deception after ascending; the heart very rarely forgets.”

“But there was nothing about ascension in the story.”

“Of course not. Exposition is terrible boring. Even this conversion, on the whole, was rather tedious.”

“I wonder what else Alyx left out.”

Contrary to what the Curious Cat said,  I on the other hand found the whole conversation between them and RWBY to be interesting because it does give some insight into the way the Ever After works while dropping more hints about Alyx.

I guess at the end of this episode, my whole question is...since the implication is that Alyx survived her adventures in the Ever After and ascended back to Remnant, who did Alyx become then?

The inference is that Alyx turned into an entirely different person when she returned home to Remnant; probably in more ways that one. So who did Alyx become and was the new Alyx a character we’ve already met before in the show? Y’know like a little twist we’ll get by the time V9 is over or something like that.

Like imagine if…by the end of V9, we find out that Alyx eventually became another reincarnation of Ozma or…Summer Rose or maybe she became Neo or something like that?

I’m just saying that all of this lore that we’re getting about the Ever After has to make sense in the end and tie back to the main narrative in some shape or form. So I’m just slowly picking up what little bit of information I can to try and piece it all together while I’m watching the season.

Overall, the way the Ever After works compared to Remnant is fascinating. I think for now it’s safe to say that it is indeed some kind of purgatory. Not life. Not death. But somewhere in the middle where one can go to either start over or never exist to begin with?

That what I’ll say for now. I’m especially looking forward to next week’s episode to hear the explanation for what the hell happened to Jaune!

"...Team RWBY. You finally made it..."

I can't believe RWBY pulled a "The Girl Who Waited" like in Doctor Who but with Jaune!

Jaune is the boy who waited. How long has Jaune been waiting for RWBY to show up? How much time has passed for him compared to his friends.

Holy balls! Jaune is old now---well older now? I mean it could've been worse. He could've been an old man by the time he reunited with RWBY.

At least he's finally rocking that wolf tail he’s always wanted from V4. I liked that nice little callback to that season as well as him naming his little jackalope friend Juniper after his team. That's sweet.

I can't believe RWBY pulled a "The Girl Who Waited" like in Doctor Who but with Jaune!

Yeah, nah, I ain't ready for this kind of pain and I'm not even a big Jaune stan.

Jaune is literally the boy who waited. But...how long has Jaune been waiting for RWBY to show up? How much time has passed for him compared to his friends.

In all seriousness, what happened to Jaune? Jaune was the last to fall into the Ever After so how is it he’s aged so drastically but RWBY hasn’t? I’m assuming it has to do with whatever acre of the Ever After Jaune fell into?

Perhaps time runs differently in that specific acre compared to other parts?

Don’t get me wrong, Jaune’s looking mighty good in his more mature age. A little rusty but otherwise fine.

I just wanna know if it’ll be permanent. Like when the group finally return to Remnant, will Jaune still be older or are the CRWBY showrunners gonna pull a Chronicles of Narnia or Marco Diaz from Star Vs the Forces of Evil where Jaune will revert back to his younger self as soon as he returns home but his heart will remember everything like the Curious Cat said?

I guess I’ll have to wait and see for next week.

Overall, Chapter 5 was another solid episode. As I'll reiterate, I dug the new lore drop that we got this episode.

Dug the interesting development that Ruby got too with her meeting the weird Metal Lady.

And I definitely loved the new theme that played during WBY's fight against the Jabber-Neos. I can’t wait for the full version to come out whenever.

Other than that, that’s all I have to say as my first impressions of this episode. Might share some more deeper thoughts later but that's all for now folks.

~LMS (2023)

#squiggles talks: rwby #rwby #rwby volume 9 #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 spoilers #jaune arc

[screendimdotcom]

In "Madame Web," Sony's ill-conceived venture into the Spider-Verse, the web of intrigue quickly unravels into a tangle of cinematic follies. The 2024 film, which aimed to ensnare audiences with the enigmatic tale of Cassandra Webb, instead traps viewers in a web of disappointment.

Let me get the "Well, duh" comments out of the way...

1) The "great power" line has now become a mangled mess of itself. The fact that it is butchered in this film, and repeated, made me facepalm so hard the guy sat behind me got hit in the face too.

2) Tahar Rahim's dialogue, was it dubbed? It looked out of sync several times in the movie, sometimes so badly lip-synched it made me look around to see if anyone else had seen the same thing?

3) BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. BUY PEPSI. 

4) Yep - they pulled another "Rhino" a la The Amazing Spider-Man 2. The Spider-Women suit up at the end of the film in a flash-forward for all of 30 seconds. They spend the whole film building up to what the people actually want to see and then end it.

So where to begin with this muddled mess? The plot, if one can be generous enough to call it that, is an aimless meander through a series of inexplicably bizarre events that seem to serve no purpose other than to fill time. The dialogue is a trainwreck of cringe-worthy one-liners and heavy-handed exposition that bludgeons the audience with subtlety of a sledgehammer. Every character introduction is a tedious affair, with them announcing their names and purposes with the enthusiasm of a hostage reading a ransom note. This film makes Morbius look like a masterpiece.

Then there's the humor – or what passes for it in this film. The jokes are so painfully unfunny that one must wonder if they were included as some form of avant-garde anti-comedy.

Directorial decisions only exacerbate the suffering. The numerous desperate references to the wider Spider-Man universe come off as a sibling screaming for attention rather than clever nods. The references are shoehorned in with the grace of a wrecking ball, leaving fans to nurse their second-hand embarrassment.

Performances across the board are astonishingly flat. Dakota Johnson, tasked with bringing Madame Web to life, delivers her lines with all the conviction of someone reciting the phone book. The supporting cast isn’t much better, with each member seemingly in their own disjointed film – a cacophony of conflicting genres and styles that never gel.

Action sequences are so poorly choreographed and edited that one can almost hear the director's sigh of resignation. Quick cuts and shaky cam attempt to inject excitement but instead induce a sense of motion sickness. The CGI, a critical component for any superhero flick, is an abomination – it would seem the effects budget was slashed in a boardroom and never restored.

The film's attempts to be dark and edgy are undercut by its own absurdity. It tries to take itself seriously, yet it’s hard to do so when the villain’s master plan seems to have been concocted during a fever dream. There's a subplot involving the future that is so nonsensical it could be a time-travel paradox in itself.

Editing seems to have been done with a chainsaw, lurching from scene to scene with jarring inconsistency. Scenes of potential emotional weight are butchered in favor of more screen time for bewildering subplots. There's a Pepsi product placement so blatant it could be a commercial, and a premonition sequence so ludicrous it makes Madame Web’s psychic abilities seem as believable as a horoscope in a candy wrapper.

Musical choices are equally lazy and obnoxious - with the inclusion of Britney Spears' "Toxic" making the audience eye-roll.

"Madame Web" is a cinematic calamity, a film so woefully executed that it becomes a parody of itself. It's a movie that not only fails to capture the essence of its source material but also fails to provide the most basic elements of storytelling. This film doesn't swing from the heights; it trips over its own laces at the starting line. Madame Web's real precognition would have been to foresee its own critical demise and spare us all by remaining an untold story. The only saving grace is that the film eventually ends, releasing the audience from its bewildering web of woe.

#film review #cinema #movie review #movie reviews #movies #madame web #mcu

[strawwritesfic]

Terra x Female!Keyblade Student!Reader: Sprain

Summary: Your first kiss isn’t as magical as you were led to believe either.

Rating/Tags: All (Not Canon Compliant; Pre-Birth by Sleep; heavy exposition; mutual crushing; keyblade training; Master Eraqus & Reader; Aqua & Ven & Terra & Reader)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Sprain

Keyblade Knighthood sounded pretty magical to little kids on distant worlds, visited suddenly by men in white to tell these children that they were destined for greater things. Your head continued to spin with dreams and ideas even after your parents had you packed up and shipped off to the Land of Departure. And magic, as it turned out, was a part of Keyblade Knighthood...but so were sweat and tears and a lot of lectures about the nature of light and dark.

At the age of sixteen, all of those things seemed commonplace. Your visions of traversing galaxies and saving the day no longer plagued you–at least not as often or as badly as your many nights of cramming for surprise tests on spells. Being a knight was about as tedious as any other occupation might have been back on your home world, with the one exception of a certain someone you wouldn’t have met if you had stayed there.

“Oi, [Name]! What’re you doing?” called a masculine voice from behind you.

You turned quickly away from the courtyard fountain to glare at the owner of the voice. How had Terra even found you here? Ignoring the fact that the Land of Departure was the size of a flea, you meant.

“I’m taking a break,” you answered as he approached. 

The look on his face did not bode well for said break, you could tell that already. It had not been all that long ago that you’d finally managed to escape Terra and now here he was all over again. Sure enough, his smile only grew when he got to the space in front of you to grab your hand.

“You can’t take a break yet,” he said. “We’re not finished.”

A groan escaped you before you could stop it. Since the cat of your lack of enthusiasm was out of the bag (if it had ever been in the bag to begin with), you tugged your hand free of Terra’s to sink onto the fountain’s rim. You pressed your face into your palms, then said in a muffled voice, “I’m done, Terra.”

As usual, he was prompt with his rebuttal: “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

With a snort, you forced your head up to look at him. The battle was lost the second your eyes met his, but it would be better for everyone involved if Terra didn’t find that out. His ego was huge enough as it was. 

“Don’t be like what?” you sighed. 

This was one of your many mistakes. Maybe if you hadn't asked, you would have been permitted to spend the rest of the day alone. Terra grinned before plopping down next to you, careful to shove you over as he did so. Needless to say, this did not improve your mood. Neither did his answer:

“Like you always are.” He must have been able to feel your annoyance because he bumped his shoulder against yours as he went on, “Aqua, Ven, and Master Eraqus won’t be home for another few hours. Don’t you want to have something to show for our time when they get back?”

“Honestly? I’d rather sleep while Master Eraqus isn’t around to wake me up with reminders about how the Darkness is lazy. Don’t you ever get tired?” 

After all, he’d woken you up at the crack of dawn not for breakfast, not to watch the sunrise, but to declare that you would be spending all day together…training. Not exactly the most romantic day alone with Terra you could imagine.

“How can I? Our Mark of Mastery exam is coming up! Just two more weeks. I don’t understand how you can sleep at all,” he said.

Unfortunately, the due date was accurate. Finally you were close enough to visiting home that you could practically taste it–if you could pass your test, that was. 

“I’m trying not to think about it,” you said tersely. 

This only caused Terra to turn the force of his encouragement up another dozen notches. He was on his feet again quicker than you could blink, and smiling like the sun once more.

“Nothing for you to be worried about. Not if you help with me sparring this afternoon, anyway. What if I fail because I didn’t get enough practice? Do you really want that on your conscience?” he asked.

Another dramatic groan was your reply, but you also stuck both your arms out in front of you. “Fine, but only until the others come home for dinner. I’m not staying up until midnight stabbing at you with a stick again.”

“Deal.”

Terra grabbed your hands with no further prompting, and soon you were flying after him, laughing as you raced back toward the training field and away from the cobblestone fountain where you had gone to avoid him in the first place. After a morning of mock fighting, you were already scraped up, singed, and in dire need of a cure spell. If there was one person in the multiverse that you would willing go another round with in this condition, it was Terra. No one else could get you to enjoy all the dodging and ducking and lunging. Only him.

“Don’t go easy on me,” he reminded you as you both took up your positions for what felt like the hundredth time that day alone.

“I never do,” you said, picking up your lovingly-crafted wooden keyblade, then swinging at him without warning. The sparring session started up just where the last one ended.

Aqua, Terra, and Ventus were your three closest friends. They had to be; there were no other children in the Land of Departure, and you had left those of your childhood on your home world years ago. Between you and Terra, though, things were different. You didn’t quite understand how. All you did know was that you didn’t hold hands, sit close, or fall asleep on the floor together after a long night of studying with Aqua or Ven–and you were pretty sure Terra didn’t either. Whatever you had with him, it wasn’t easily defined, perhaps because you had a sneaking suspicion Master Eraqus wouldn’t be happy if you tried to find that definition.

But that was what you were working toward, wasn’t it? Just a few more days, and you could leave, see your parents again, travel the world with Terra at your side, and never hear another lecture on emotions from your master. If that was your reward, then a handful of hours more of Terra and you beating each other black and blue didn’t seem so bad.

“Ah!”

You froze as Terra dropped to the grassy ground, clutching at his own wrist.

“Terra!” Your practice blade was tossed aside with little ceremony as you crouched next to your partner. He shot you a thin smile, which only served to make you frown before gently helping him to his feet. “You okay?”

“Fine.” He laughed at look on your face. “Really, [Name]. I think you sprained my wrist.”

When he lifted his arm, you saw that Terra’s wrist was indeed swollen and red. Maybe the right reaction would have been to fuss over his injury. Instead, you let go with a scowl. 

“Me? You sprained your wrist, you big baby. I didn’t ask to have another go.”

“Baby!” Terra repeated indignantly.

You stuck your nose in the air and turned your back on him. “I thought you’d been seriously hurt. How do you expect to earn your Mark of Mastery if you fall over crying because you hurt your wrist?”

The thing was, you knew Terra was teasing you. Much to Master Eraqus’s chagrin, you had never grown into the ideal, serene keyblade wielder that Aqua had. No one knew that better than Terra. He loved to get a rise out of you, especially when your instructor wasn’t around to correct either of your behaviors. You really had been worried about hurting him, though, so when he sighed and put his uninjured hand on your shoulder, you still weren’t in any hurry to forgive him.

“Okay, okay. It did hurt,” he said. “But look. All I need is you to cure me, and I’ll be good as new.”

This you pretended to consider and reject in due course. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you said again, twisting around to face him. 

He looked just as shocked as you had expected him to, which was something of a thrill. As tempting as it was to crack a smile, however, you decided to continue teasing him for just a little while longer.

“But how can I train with a sprained wrist?” he protested.

“Heal it yourself.”

“I can’t even hold my keyblade!”

“Good. Maybe I can get a break from fighting you for a few days.”

“[Name]!”

Finally, a smile broke out wide across your face. Now Terra simply looked bewildered as he watched you double over with laughter. 

“I’m kidding, Ter!” This confession appeared to do little to impress him. Still grinning, you held out one hand. “Give me your arm.”

“I don’t think I want to anymore.”

“Terra.”

“Fine.” 

Sure, he frowned when he gently plopped his arm back into your grip, but you could tell he was just playing, too. His playing had never brought him quite so close to you before, though–at least, not his face. Summoning your keyblade forgotten, you stared up at him into those familiar blue eyes. Terra cocked his head slightly to the side, obviously confused by your lack of action. You opened your mouth to say something, but you were thinking too hard to actually speak.

Without actively making the decision, you made the decision. It must have been pure instinct driving you to jump forward to get your lips against his, since you certainly didn’t have anyone else around to teach you the finer points of kissing. You figured it couldn’t be too difficult a skill to master–no more difficult than Aero, surely–when you felt Terra’s soft lips meet yours. 

Unfortunately, you misjudged how much power to put behind your leap. The next thing you felt was a sharp pain on your mouth.

“Augh!”

It was not just Terra that collapsed to the ground this time. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you clutched at your bleeding lips…and heard, from somewhere behind you, the distinct sound of Terra’s laughter. You whirled around to see him laughing. Laughing! At your first kiss! He only laughed harder at your expression of horror.

“I think–I think you sprained my lips!” he managed to choke out between guffaws.

Sure enough, your life was so un-magical that even your first kiss had to turn out to be a dud. Hadn’t Master Eraqus seen to that the first day he met you? 

And your master didn’t stop his attempts at life ruining there. Upon arriving home and finding you and Terra in such a condition, he set Aqua and Ven to healing up Terra while you accompanied your teacher to an empty room for a long talk on “the birds and the bees.” If Terra thought he’d be getting another try at kissing you after he managed to dodge that bullet, well…he had another thing coming, and that thing would not be a second kiss.

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #one shot #request #challenge fic #kingdom hearts #kh #terra #terra x reader #terra x you #terra x y/n #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdom hearts x you #kingdom hearts x y/n #kh x reader #kh x you #kh x y/n #kingdom hearts reader insert #kh reader insert #terra reader insert

[thetypedwriter]

Foul Lady Fortune Book Review

Foul Lady Fortune Book Review by Chloe Gong 

This book was torturously tedious and achingly long. 

I had high hopes for Chloe Gong. These Violent Delights and Our Violent Ends, while not without problems, was a really excellent debut duology that made me excited for Gong’s upcoming works. 

When I heard that Foul Lady Fortune, Gong’s third book, was actually a spin-off from her original duology that followed Rosalind Lang, a side character from the first books, I wasn’t enthused, but also not put-off. I trusted Chloe. 

While I would have loved to have seen something new from her, I understand working off the success already gained from These Violent Delights and Our Violent Ends. 

It made sense. Even if, as a reader, I wasn’t hugely anticipatory. 

Turns out that Gong should have left her duology alone. 

Foul Lady Fortune takes place five years after the ending of the duology and sets readers back into the convoluted mess that is Shanghai. While Gong’s descriptions of Shanghai are fascinating to read about, they were swallowed up by a political quagmire, Gong’s thousands of characters, and nonsensical plot lines. 

This book was 500+ pages of too many things that weren’t fleshed out properly in any sense. The politics of the book were beyond confusing, adding information and exposition that truly wasn’t needed for any other part of the book. 

I felt stupid 99% of the time while reading about the different factions like the Communists or the Nationalists or the Japanese Imperial Army before deciding that it didn’t matter. 

No, truly. 

Understanding any of the politics that Gong writes into every chapter is completely pointless. Even the characters themselves didn’t care. Despite being part of a particular group, none of Gong’s characters had strong ties or allegiances to any one side, which makes the reader also not care about any of the sides and drives any tension and stakes the book created straight to the grave. 

In fact, most of the characters actively worked together despite being on different sides of the war, and more than one character was a double agent or even a triple agent. Keeping track of who worked for who and what they believed in was a waste of time as the characters didn’t even make a priority. 

Speaking of characters, they range from shafted and underdeveloped to bland and mediocre. I found Rosalind to be a middling protagonist. I didn’t hate her, but I also didn’t love her.

 I felt very neutral about her journey and the myriad chapters in her POV. Seeing as most of the book was from her eyes, feeling neutral for 80% of the book isn’t great. 

In addition, Rosalind is supposed to be this highly trained agent and yet she messes up almost every other chapter. Sometimes she knows how to fight and sometimes she doesn’t, sometimes she’s cool, calm, and collected, and other times she gives into nerves and anger. She doesn’t come across as highly trained in any sense. 

Her whole emotional development about giving up on love and closing herself off from the world could have been interesting if we had seen more of it since Our Violent Ends. 

However, because of the time skip, Rosalind has already processed most of what had previously happened with Dimitri and the Scarlet Gang, leaving her journey uninteresting to the reader. 

Lastly, Rosalind is immortal. Yup, you heard me correctly. She can get shot in the stomach or poisoned and be just dandy. Because of this, the book has no stakes whatsoever. In every single fight scene featuring Rosalind, I was bored out of my skull because no matter the outcome, Rosalind would be fine. 

That was established in chapter one. What is the purpose of this, you might ask? Does Rosalind grapple emotionally and mentally with the prospect of never dying, losing all of her loved ones, not aging, not sleeping, and falling into a pit of boredom and despair?

Who knows. Rosalind hardly thinks about her own immortality and all the ramifications that come with it, which would have been great as a reader to see as well as offer a complex insight into her character. 

Some might argue that the purpose of her immortality is to lead into the chemical killings sub-plot, but I would argue that Rosalind’s immortality doesn’t add anything to the sub plot, and, if anything, lessens the stakes and tension overall as I mentioned above because you know she won’t die and will escape every altercation unscathed. Sigh.

Other major characters include Orion, Oliver, Celia, and Alisa. There are a thousand more that Gong introduces in this novel that don’t matter at all. At all at all. Every time she introduced some side character, I actively glossed over their name as I knew they were inconsequential. 

Orion and Oliver are brothers and essentially carbon copies of each other. They’re both cookie-cutter agent types whose only personality traits include being handsome and sarcastic. 

Celia is interesting, but we hardly get any chapters about her. Alisa is…fine. I think Gong exaggerates her skills and it annoyed me that Alisa was working for Rosalind and company in the first place, as politically and historically it made no sense. 

Speaking once again about tension and stakes, Alisa is essentially a ninja ghost who can get out of any situation. Oh, the characters are imprisoned for the second time? Not to worry, Alisa will single handedly break into the jail and get them out. How? Shrugs. Don’t worry about it. Rinse and repeat multiple times. 

Two other characters I’ll briefly mention are Phoebe and Silas. I found both insignificant until the epilogue where Gong reveals a twist that I didn’t find surprising at all. Otherwise, both of them essentially played no role and took up valuable page space for no discernible reason. 

The plot itself was both dull and ludicrous at the same time. Most of this 500+ paged novel is having the characters complete boring tasks interspersed with low-stakes action. For example, Orion and Rosalind work at a Japanese newspaper named Seagreen Press. What do they do there? Who knows. 

Other than Gong introducing us to more faceless characters, I found these chapters of them “working” completely pointless as they never actually did any work to cover up the fact that they were agents on a mission to infiltrate the Japanese. 

Of all the places Gong could have chosen for her setting, she chose a newsroom? Baffling. 

Predictably, every chapter would start with either some boring reconnaissance, some info dump on convoluted and removed politics, some half-hearted romance, and then an action scene of some sort that always involved our main characters getting away scot-free. 

Over and over and over again. 

Honestly, the best part about this book was probably the half-hearted romance. Everything else either didn’t matter or was too confusing to understand. Now, this book was apparently advertised as an enemies-to-lovers trope, as well as a fake married spy couple trope, as well as representing a range of sexuality types with Orion being bisexual and Rosalind being demisexual. 

That’s a lot to unpack right there. I usually love enemies-to-lovers, but I would argue that they’re not enemies to lovers. Rosalind is cold and shut off from everyone, not just Orion, and they’re not enemies. They’re partners working on the same mission. 

The animosity between them lasts only a short bit until suddenly Orion is calling her beloved every two goddamn seconds and they’re being affectionate without a care in the world. 

The we’re-in-a-sham-marriage-and-then-accidentally-fell-in-love trope is so overdone and washed up that I couldn't even scrounge up an ounce of an enthusiasm for it. Of course they would fall in love. Duh. It would have been more interesting if Gong had inverted this trope somehow, but she just…didn’t. 

The sexuality representation was actually a surprise to me. I had no idea that this book was even marketed this way until I started reading other people’s reviews. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, to back up this representation while actually reading the novel if you didn’t know about it beforehand.

 Rosalind has maybe one internal monologue that she’s not like other people in terms of she doesn’t lust after others until she gets to know them more. Ummm, okay. There are a lot of people who don’t identify as demisexual and still feel that way. 

Orion being bisexual (apparently) is painful. There’s one conversation where his sister Phoebe mentions him sleeping with a man. That’s it. That’s the whole representation of Orion being bisexual in the entire novel. 

If I were a reader who had been taken in by how it was advertised I would be beyond disappointed. Gong doesn’t deliver whatsoever on the representation and it shows. If anything, it seems more like a marketing ploy than an actual attempt to represent different kinds of people. 

Adding all these elements together, this book was a slog. Gong’s writing itself was fine to me, not particularly enchanting nor distracting. As always, her love for Shanghai and the culture surrounding it was the best part. 

Everything else about the novel put me off and made me not want to read. This book would get a worse score than it did, but I still think Gong has talent and I appreciate her attempt involving complicated historical issues and POC characters. 

I just wish it was done better. 

Recommendation: This book is lauded as a historical remake of As You Like It. As I didn’t like most of the book, I’d recommend going to the source itself and reading Shakespeare's play. Not only does it take less time, but ironically you’d be less confused and happier all around. 

Score: 5/10

#foul lady fortune #chloe gong #these violent delights #our violent ends #as you like #shakespeare #popular fiction #Popular Books #ya fiction #YA Books #YA literature #book blog #book review #Book Recommendations #book rec #book recs #YA Book Review #LGBTQ fiction #books with poc #5/10

[mythcreantsblog]

#storytelling #writing #exposition

[scicrab]

Subject: in awe of your style (CONTEXT:a very passionate message to popular SCP author DJKaktus)

MESSAGE: You really are the worst writer I can think of. You took the unique format of sterile lab reports and decided you were too good for the rules, so you write nothing but bloated interview logs full of blunt exposition. I’m genuinely impressed by how godawful your articles are, they’re like monuments to mediocrity, each one larger and more tedious than the last.

Your ego and pretentious garbage has ruined that site. You took something that belonged to everyone and said “waaah no this is MINE” Luke a big toddler. You take liberties with the works of others, constantly striving to “fix” anything that isn’t a dialogue-heavy slog.

If you wrote a novel your horrible prose would be laughed out of the scene but clearly you’re happy to be a big fish in a tiny pond basking in the adulation of actual children - the only ones dumb enough to take your ego at face-value.

You’re the literary form of cancer. You exist to spread, and ruin, everything you can get your greasy hands on.

Just waiting on the day your dirty laundry is exposed and everyone realizes what a para-social infectious pest you are.

Does this submission look like spam? Report it here.

#scp shitposting #djkaktus #copypasta

[marisramblings]

Golden Apple Archipelago (2022) is Genshin’s Worst Event

I cannot think of any game in recent history that has frustrated me as much as this year’s Golden Apple Archipelago (GAA). Genshin hasn’t ticked me off this much, except for Sumeru, but that’s a whole separate can of worms. If I could describe GAA in one word, it would be tedious. Every aspect of this event is tedious. Every quest lasts too long. Every domain is an hour longer than it should be. Every new mechanic is frustrating and repetitive. GAA isn’t hard, it’s boring and painful to play through.

The main draw of GAA is the lore dump. I know genshin dumps lore in books and random npcs, but they couldn’t change things a little for this event? We oscillate between domains designed specifically to draw out boring gameplay or walking around listening to exposition. That isn’t interesting. I would trade every aspect of this event for animated cutscenes relaying this information.

I know game design is difficult, and there is a lot of forethought put into GAA, but it’s horrible. I had to plunge every five seconds to get past the wind tunnel in Kazuha’s third domain. It can’t be turned off and you have to turn the room around to complete it. There is no circumnavigating this, the domain is designed to make you do this. Xinyan’s domain is designed to be replayed. You cannot progress in getting Fischl’s new outfit without replaying this shit. What’s worse is that Xinyan’s domain is the only one worth replaying. I had to look up a tutorial on gaze of the deep. I looked up a tutorial to unlock the final chest in Xinyan’s domain and I couldn’t parse through it. “Go to chest #14 then backtrack to door 3 then cross over to door 1…” It is not worth the effort to replay these domains. Trust me, you will not get every chest on your first playthrough. Why? It’s designed that way. There’s also the issues of holes in walkways and unclimbable walls. It always pisses me off when I’m knocked off into a small corner and fall into a loading screen. There are holes in the bridges, there are gaps that you can reasonably climb but end up sliding down waiting for said loading screen, only to hit the last bit of rock and kill Ayato.

All of this fucking tedium for shit rewards. On Mona’s island, there is a timed challenge that is 2+ minutes and requires you to climb up a large mountain. The reward is a basic chest with 2 primo gems. Remember how I said Xinyan’s island and domain are the only ones worth replaying? They’re the only ones with precious chests. I got 100 primos from them. Mona’s island is about to give me 40. I’m missing a chest in Kazhua’s, but 2-10 primos is not worth the hour and a half it will take me to meticulously comb through his domain again.

Game design needs to strike a balance between difficulty and interest. The game can be the most interesting thing ever, but if the gameplay is impossible to beat, your game sucks. *Cough* pathologic *cough*. Difficult doesn’t equal interesting. GAA balances nothing.This event is supposed to be a “vacation,” but it feels like a chore. It’s artifact hunting as an event. Running through Fischl’s library fighting random hilichurls is not interesting. Being forced to walk after a star is not interesting. Fighting two stone hide lawachurls as you replay Xinyan’s domain is a dick move. It’s not fun. None of this is fun!

There is a main fatui quest, because archons forbid the fatui aren’t involved in a fucking event, there are sub-main quests with the mirages, there are sub quests after you beat the mirages, there are sub-sub quests on the islands a la bake-danuki, then there’s the wave rider that talks? Are these quests fun? Fuck no. Switch the island, switch it again, whoops you need geo traveler since you don’t have Zhongli, but the construct blocks the music blast so that chest behind a wind tunnel is just stuck. Not to mention, climbing up that fucking mountain just to get hit by the wind tunnel you didn’t know was there and watch helplessly as Ayato falls to death, again.

I am playing this event because I love lore and I need primos for Klee, but I am at my fucking limit. Genshin’s gameplay has always been repetitive. You have to grind to get any decent artifacts and those domains are designed to be frustrating. Noblesse Oblige is designed to fuck with you, and you don’t even get a good artifact out of it most of the time. Genshin’s gacha system is better than most, but it still sucks. Why am I rolling on Xiao and getting keqing? Why is the standard banner also on limited banners?

Sumeru is a goddam travesty, but since a good chunk of you guys are racist as hell, I know it’s not a strike against the game for you. GAA is a failure on several levels. The game will eventually become computer only because there is no way 7 nations is running on an iPad or galaxy. Hoyo needs to get it together, quickly.

#mari’s rambles #game review #genshin impact #golden apple archipelago #kaedehara kazuha #xinyan #mona megistus #fischl von luftschloss narfidort #the fatui

[yetanothercomicbook]

Air Apparent

Excalibur Special Edition

An unpleasant mixture of bland and awful.

The team go up against Dr. Cayre and his Air Walker android.

The main series is frequently unreadable and, to Marvel’s credit, they always ensure that the glut of EXCALIBUR tie-in books they flood the market with are also similarly unreadable. Brand synergy and all that! This hodgepodge is a bit of a mess, with each chapter done by different artists. Even though each character is working the same case, it really doesn’t fit together very well. It feels hopelessly contrived. The constant bad jokes in the text grow very annoying very fast. It all opens with several pages of tedious exposition. “Show, don’t tell!” is one of the basic rules of storytelling. 5 pages of Brigadier Stewart telling us all the (potentially) interesting stuff that happened previously isn’t good writing. There’s a bizarre Coldblood guest appearance and some of the conclusion, as it relates to Captain Britain’s part in it, makes no sense. But at least the characters stand around and have a good laugh about the script making no sense. Amazing to think that an editor looked at this and thought: “Yep, this is acceptable, we’ll publish this.”

On Sale Date: December 3, 1991.

Scott Lobdell (9 of 9).

4/10

#February 1992 #Excalibur

[tsugacanadensis]

i have now written something like 30,000 words (of mostly pornography) that is shaping up to become an actual novel (of mostly pornography), but more importantly, in the last month i have read a ton of fanfiction and some actual, original published novels, and some of the first one that became the second one, and because of that, i feel i am qualified to post some thoughts about writing and how to write and be good at writing (i’m not qualified lol)

worldbuilding is bad and you should stop doing so much of it

most exposition related to how the world functions is poorly executed. i know a lot of people learned very early on that a more naturalistic method of storytelling is to have one character introduce aspects of the world and setting via an explanation delivered to another character, but almost nobody does this in a way that isn’t clunky as hell because most people don’t go around asking each other how the world works. the fact of the matter is that most people don’t know how really commonplace stuff works, and they don’t really care enough to ask because it isn’t relevant to their lives. who is asking their friends how internal combustion engines work when they’re driving to starbucks? what barista is explaining how coffee is made while ordering a frappuccino?

your worldbuilding is probably really only interesting to you. i realize a lot of SFF authors would gasp in horror if they heard this because it’s basically blasphemy for modern writing… uh, spaces, i guess? to think about worldbuilding as something not very important but it’s a fact, i’m sorry. imagine if every time you unlocked your phone, i popped up and gave you a lecture on semiconductor physics (people who know me irl currently laughing because i absolutely do do this sort of thing). that’d get tedious in a hurry, right? imagine having to read about it

most writers get so excited about the world they’ve built they pay more attention to introducing it than they do to what their characters are doing, and the story suffers for it. what makes a story memorable isn’t that there’s an intricate lore and magic/technology system behind it, it’s that the characters are relatable and believable and well-characterized. when you introduce your world in a way that is overly intrusive or unnecessary, you are making the world more important than the story. if you’re more excited about the world you’ve made than the story you’re trying to tell in it, you need to ask yourself why you’re writing a novel instead of, say, a TTRPG

You should use explanations of how your world works the same way you would add a sex scene to a movie: unless the primary purpose of your writing is to explain how the world works, you should only introduce it when it is absolutely necessary to the plot that it happen OR it serves to illustrate things about your characters, or else it just feels cheap. For instance, let’s take the first sex scene from the movie Brokeback Mountain. Jack and Ennis WANT to kiss, but Jack can’t allow himself to do it. Ennis wants to kiss Jack so bad they basically end up headbutting each other for a solid thirty seconds before Jack finally flips Ennis over and takes him to pound town. There is no care. No tenderness. Just two men silently rutting against each other in a tent. The objective of the scene, then, is not to mash Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal together like Cowboy Barbies but to provide characterization: Jack has been shown under other circumstances to be a tender, caring man, but when it comes to being with Ennis, he can’t do it even though he clearly wants to. Jack is closed off to being loving with a man in ways that Ennis isn’t; Jack views violence as more acceptable than tenderness; Ennis is willing to accept violence in place of tenderness.

Let’s imagine how we could provide worldbuilding details this way. Imagine there is some sort of machine or vehicle that is broken, or something like that. Character A knows how to fix it and asks Character B to help them, providing explanations about the components, how they fit together, and what they’re for. Character B could ask Character A how they know all this, and Character A could reveal that they used to work on these machines with their mom or dad or brother or somebody, and it was how they bonded. Character B realizes that Character A COULD have done all the work themselves, but they asked Character B to help them. Now we know about Character A’s past, we know that Character A wants to be around B, we know that Character A is more comfortable showing affection by proxy than by simply saying “I like you and I want to hang out”, AND we know how the vehicle works! 🎉

2. language should be invisible

do your characters interject, disclose, verbalize, opine, quip, query, or rejoin way more than they just say shit? are you the writer who has lists of uncommon adjectives squirrelled away so you can deploy them when necessary? do your characters have hair that is ebony, auburn, titian, mahogany, or tinged with flecks of gold? are you fucking with very basic conventions of written english, like where punctuation goes and when to add a line break?

stop.

you might think it’s really, really good and cool to go back and add a ton of adjectives and make your dialog tags really pop but i promise you it isn’t. it’s distracting, annoying, and amateurish. you do not want your readers to be noticing your words instead of what those words are saying. your prose should serve the story; your story should not be a vehicle for the interesting stuff you want to do with words. there are exceptions to this that are very, very good, but in all honesty, you probably already know if you’re a writer on par with Cormac McCarthy or Ernest Hemingway or William Faulkner. my general rule is that dialog tags should be about 70% “said”, and the exceptions are things like yelling, sobbing, whispering, etc.

3. if you want to publish your fanfiction as original writing you need to do a lot more work than just find, replace “Dean” and “Cas” with “Steve” and “Bob”

so this is admittedly much more of a niche one but it’s something that i’ve seen three or four separate times and it drives me up the wall every time. The really convenient thing about fanfiction is that we already know who the people involved are, so you don’t need to spend a lot of time explaining them to us. We know who Castiel is, we know he’s awkward and weird around people and kind of alien and stiff, and a lot of that is provided for us by Misha Collins his body language and general physicality. In fact, it’s communicated so well nonverbally that if you’re writing fanfiction about him, you don’t have to describe the way Cas sits: we know automatically that he just sort of awkwardly lowers his butt into a seat without even taking his trench coat off, holds his knees together like nobody ever does, and folds his hands in his lap like a little kid in church. He sits like somebody who has to think about how each muscle moves because he’s not used to being in a body, and it comes off as intense awkwardness, like how when you’re nervous you become aware of how you walk and you start walking weird. (The fact that Cas gradually stops doing stuff like this as the show progresses and he gets more used to being in a body is, in its own way, excellent characterization. Misha, you were too good for that show.)

But here’s the thing: if you wrote Cas, but now for copyright reasons he’s now not-Cas, WE DON’T KNOW THAT HE’S LIKE THAT. YOU NEED TO TELL US. you can’t just lean on the characterization provided by the source material and assume your audience knows what you’re talking about, because we don’t, and if you don’t give us anything, we’re not going to start making it up. your story will feel like you’re mechanically shoving cardboard cutouts around your plot if you don’t tell us about who they are. recently i read one fanfic-turned-published-novel where the two leads were so poorly characterized that the only way i could tell which one was supposed to be who was by their eye colours. it was really, really not good and i actually quit reading halfway through because i just didn’t give a shit about what happened to them. we need to have reasons to care about these characters beyond “it’s dean winchester” if it’s not dean winchester anymore.

whew, that was a lot. maybe i’ll come back to this later

#ash.txt

[hostingdemo]

Ash vs evil dead season 3 episode 10

Bassett (coming over from also-on-Starz Da Vinci’s Demons) does give “Bait” some generally awesome moments. The question of whether this whole thing will work without Raimi behind the camera starts getting answered tonight. Hopefully this AvED will eventually build up some actual narrative tension in addition to its tense action to help make the exposition between the fights a little less … dead … ite. I noticed, they’re brown … and lovely, like her daughter’s.”), this whole scene just gets tedious and I’m eager to move on to the next fight. So despite some funny lines (Pablo: “She doesn’t even have the crazy white eyes. “If you snag a little fish you’re not going to eat it, no, you use it as a bait fish to catch the whale,” Ash reasons, “I’m the whale, Pablo.” The problem here is with the breakneck, silly tone of everything else and that, well, he’s goddamn ASH, it’s obvious Ash knows what’s up and Kelly’s mom is a Deadite. Ash is naturally pissed, and the two argue whether or not Mom is a Deadite. Pablo reveals he took the Necronomicon to trick Ash into following Kelly. Ash’s description of running into a deer to explain their state of dress earns the best jokes for the night (“We had to cut it up with my chainsaw … arm.”), and despite their clearly homicidal appearance, they’re invited to stay for dinner. Our two blood-soaked heroes bust into Kelly’s house ready to kick ass, and find a pleasant scene of family reunion. Pablo’s character arc from sidekick to hero in his own right is clearly one of the threads we’ll be tracking this season, but so far Ash’s advice that he’ll know what to do once he’s hit isn’t yielding results. Confined spaces are always a good setting for Deadite fights, and the added threat of being in a speeding car led to a nicely paced little sequence here. Roper surprise-attacks from the back seat in the first of tonight’s two big fights. Evil Dead makes it canon that “Machine Head” is stuck in the Delta 88’s tape deck.Īfter we got a taste of him prowling in the trailer park, the possessed Mr. We got “Space Truckin” last week and now he’s apparently flipped the tape back to side A for “Highway Star” this week. I guess it’s supposed to be redemptive, but I’m still just getting gross vibes from all of this sleazy coloring of Ash.Īlso, he’s a huge Deep Purple fan? That makes sense for Ash. Evil Dead wants us to know that when he’s not fighting Deadites, Ashley J. Man, drinking and driving, hitting on woman half his age, bringing “whores with skanky wrist tattoos” (why is everyone so observant and judgmental of this poor dead girl’s wrist tattoo?) back to the trailer … Ash vs. So Ash and Pablo set off and have a little bonding time in the car, where Ash is finishing off a beer and dispensing fighting advice. Ash wants no part of the rescue mission (“I’m trying to save all the dads everywhere”), but after Pablo tells him she took the book, he reluctantly agrees to follow. Kelly takes off on Pablo’s bike to check up on her dad and recently resurrected mom, and having just had her eyeball nearly removed by a demon-woman, she’s got good reason to worry. We pick up the moment we left off in Ash’s trailer. Then again, a kitchen table got chainsawed in half while it flew through the air, so I guess we’re still getting at least some of what we came for? “Bait” spends it’s entire run time picking up the pieces leftover from the pilot and not really giving us anything new to look forward to, which does not bode well for the show reaching any sort of cohesiveness. So far, the results are disappointingly meandering. Evil Dead to show us whether it’s going to be able to function as an actual TV show and not just a half-hour pleasure cruise for Deadite nostalgists. Photo: Matt Klitscher/Starz Entertainment, LLC

#Ash vs evil dead season 3 episode 10

[egcdeath]

devil’s advocate - 1

pairing: matt murdock x reader

summary: life isn’t all that bad as an ex-black widow turned hit woman. that is, until you meet a certain pain in the ass vigilante.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: canon typical violence, ‘kidnapping’ but not really, swearing, mentions of offing people, slow burn, enemies to lovers, a lot of exposition

author's note: this is the first fic i’ve written in literal months, and my first time writing for matt ever, so please be kind because i'm more than a little rusty. this chapter is super short and mostly focuses on the reader for background, but don’t worry, we’ll get into the enemies to lovers goods later :p

You struggled against the ropes that were loosely binding your wrists together and tethering your body to a cheap, wooden chair. Whimpering against the filthy cloth in your mouth for the umpteenth time, you hoped that the dramatic scene you were putting up would be over sooner than later.

You almost had to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation– a former black widow feigning helplessness as she waited for some overrated vigilante to swoop out of the sky and save the day… but maybe that was someone else's M.O. It was hard to keep up with all of the heroes and vigilantes these days.

You almost pitied the useless goons that believed they were kidnapping some feeble woman who couldn’t do anything to protect herself other than kick and scream. But it was really all a ruse, not unlike anything else you did these days.

‘These days’ being the ones you spent at the New York Bulletin, sipping atrocious amounts of coffee, having surface level conversations with your officemates, and producing vapid, meaningless stories for residents of Hell’s Kitchen to read over their breakfasts so they could sip orange juice and ask themselves: “what has this city gone to?”

And that used to be enough. Really! Sure, at times it was a little repetitive and a little tedious. But it beat being one of Dreykov’s minions, doing unspeakable things to countless people under the instruction of someone else, and not being able to think for yourself, let alone make decisions of your own.

In fact, it had been your first choice of what to do after being un-brainwashed by former Black Widows: live in New York City and become a journalist. It had always been a dream of yours as a young girl to move to the big city and pursue your passion of writing. Of course, you hadn’t considered just how drab that lifestyle would be for a woman like yourself. Yet, Nat and Yelena got right to making those childish dreams a reality, getting you all the connections you needed, getting you a new identity, setting you up in an apartment near your workspace, and even giving you a few months worth of rent.

If only Nat and Yelena could see you now! You could almost picture the disappointment painted across their faces, working so hard to track you down and free your mind, only to find you killing countless people on your own free will. But it was your life, not theirs. And if they got to do what you did under the name of SHIELD, what was wrong with you doing what you do under your own name? If anything, it was more liberating... Right?

You grunted when a goon poked you with some sort of… stick. You couldn’t really tell with that loose blindfold over your eyes. It certainly didn’t hurt– even a person who wasn’t mildly enhanced like yourself wouldn’t let out a yelp– but the more noise you made and the greater the struggle you put up, the more likely you figured He would show up.

‘He’ being none other than the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself. Sure, you’d heard stories, seen the aftermath of his wrath, but you’d never really experienced it yourself– which was impressive, considering the amount of havoc you’d manage to wreak on the city since you’d moved in.

Despite your differing methods (he seemed to prefer the coma, while you were a fan of a coffin), you supposed you two weren’t all that different; you took hits on the same kinds of people he liked to take out, probably had a few common enemies, and had both made a bit of a name for yourselves in the media. (You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t written a story or two for the Bulletin about the illusive Widower).

But this hit wasn’t one of your own making. A shell company had reached out to you just a few days ago with the promise of $500,000 (yes, with five zeros), and protection from some of the cities’ more dangerous gangs if you were able to take out this Daredevil character for good. $500,000 was $500,000, and while you knew that the Devil was good, you were nearly positive you were better. In your mind it was a no-brainer. Easy money. Probably. Regardless, who were you to say no to half a million dollars?

You began to feel antsy at the thought of all the money coming your way. Of course, the money was just one of the many benefits that would come with getting Daredevil off of the streets. With him gone, you could finally do your job in peace without constantly having to look over your shoulder, or having to deal with clients acting much more shady than what was absolutely necessary. Sure, you’d never come face-to-face with him, but you were almost certain that you were somewhere on his radar, and the sooner you could get rid of his radar altogether the better.

That was how you ended up here, in an empty, rotting warehouse, tied up by gullible amateurs you’d found on the internet who were foolish enough to not ask questions, and clumsy enough to be framed for the murder of the city’s beloved Devil. (Which you’d totally be assisting in with the help of the Bulletin. And no matter how much you loved her, Karen would not be able to pry this story away from your cold, dead hands.)

The sense of anticipation in your stomach was coming to an all-time high as you noticed the shuffling of henchmen begin to move further and further away from you. You knew it was only a matter of time before Daredevil would make his big appearance, taking down the bad guys to save little-ol’-you– kidnaped, helpless, tied up, and whimpering.

As if your thoughts had single handedly conjured the man himself, you began to hear a rustle outside of the warehouse; a slight struggle with the rather hefty door.

You slipped your blindfold down your face with a slightly contorted shoulder, and resisted the urge to smirk and mutter an ‘I told you so’ to the rest of the world. The masked vigilante had now burst down the door with ease, standing valiantly behind it, proud to have caught yet another gang of no-good guys in his city.

It just so happened that he was also exactly where you needed him to be.

next part

#daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fanfic #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #matthew murdock x reader #daredevil enemies to lovers

[ducktales-lucktales]

Could i please get Donald Duck adopting gender neutral (they/them) reader who has combined type adhd? They're around lena's age, homeless, & hang around the houseboat (pre-season 1), stealing from nearby markets & ships but never the Ducks', which makes the community sus of the family. Y/n tries to apologize for this by sneaking some stolen food/gift aboard the boat, but gets caught, & then Donald is like "whoa, that's a child"? ADHD doesn't have 2 b a huge part of the plot, just little things!

Salty Sea

Donald Duck x GN!ADHD!Reader

Word Count: 8,844

Warnings: Yeah, actually. I wrote a lot and my word document says this is 20 pages without the text dividers and this top stuff. It's also like 99% exposition and 0% what was asked of me because I am a wee bit special (over exaggeration. it's at least a 90% to 10% ratio). Anyway I'm begging for forgiveness thanks.

AO3: Link

Master List 1, 2 || Next

[Y/N] stared out at the ocean keeping them away from what mysterious things were just beyond the horizon. Perhaps there were folk dressed in sparkles or covered in faux fur on top of their fur (odd, isn’t it?). Perhaps there were Norse Gods, or the Loch Ness Monster was out there. They have always wanted to adventure and explore the world outside of the cage called Duckburg, Calisota. It was a small little town, basically owned by the “Richest Duck in The World”, Scrooge McDuck, himself. A small little hole-in-the-wall business here and there would be owned by his greatest and most bitter rival, Flintheart Glomgold and the junkyard was owned by Ma Beagle, a bitter villain, and the Beagle Boys. [Y/N] scoffed as the names of the three most dastardly figures crossed their mind and haunted the streets of Duckburg. Times such as these ones, alone by the docks, they placed heavy blame on the owners of those names. They returned to the calming ocean waves sloshing in front of them. Off to the side, those same waves crawled up shore and longed to take the dry sand down with them.

The so-called “Richest Duck in The World” was so rich and so cheap that he would never spare a dime for his city’s homeless folk. He passed by them on the street without giving them a second thought or a dime. He let them scavenge for scraps of food and clothes day after day as needed. Even then, the shelters “provided” by the rich duck fell short. No room, no supplies for them because the problem was so significant in Duckburg. Yet the world preached about this place being the place of dreams. Wild dreams like acting, sailing, and having a home to live in. The homeless folk never seemed to show themselves, allowing for the biggest scam of all time.

Flintheart Glomgold was no better than his rival. He accumulated jewels and cash and revenue solely to beat Scrooge McDuck at his own game. He never would. Mister Glomgold was nothing more than a fraud, but at least he tossed them a dime once in a blue moon. Ma Beagle was another story–a strange story. They have a debt to Ma Beagle because they were caught rummaging through Ma’s junkyard for something one night. Food, more likely than not, and that didn’t fly with Ma. They ran a handful of errands for her every Monday in exchange for one meal–usually Monday nights meal. These errands were tedious and hard to complete. Every other meal and day of the week was on [Y/N].

The seagulls overhead screeched, searching for some poor soul with a sandwich in their hands. Seagulls loved to dive down and nearly rip someone’s hand off just to nibble at the poor soul’s sandwich and leave it not a moment later. They circled above them only to leave because they were rather uninteresting.

The ocean beyond the beach called their name. The dream of sailing the ocean blue was overwhelmingly fiction at this stage. [Y/N] glanced over at the boat sitting against the dock. The boat looked as though it could house a family, and they thought it house a lonely entrepreneur all but a few years back–only to find it housed a family of four. The folk living in the boathouse were kempt and inadvertently anti-social, save for when the boys make a friend or three and spending their time with those friends. They were younger than [Y/N] by a few years, couldn’t be more than a seven-year difference and couldn’t be less than a three-year difference. These folk were somewhat of a relief. They most likely didn’t even know [Y/N] didn’t exist, and that was far better than the folk that lived in Duckburg that knew them by name and still let them suffer. Or the folk that had too much money than they knew what to do with and willingly left [Y/N] to suffer. Or the folk that use homeless children and teenagers to their advantage–theft, petty crimes, and other small tasks that [Y/N] just so happened to be highly skilled in–you can forget about large tasks. Ha. But even those small tasks failed to keep their attention. Routine was boring.

[Y/N] tapped their hands against the boardwalk post, thoughtless for the first time this evening. The ocean slowly calmed down and the breeze rolled in. They stood up from the post and ran down to the beach as the sun began to set against the water, turning the water a dark blue and orange color where the sun sat. They could only dream of sharing the view with someone who cared about them. What a dream that is to have someone. They rocked back and forth in the sand and thought for a moment about making friends with the boys that live in the boat–maybe making friends would call attention to their situation and someone would care. Or maybe making friends would allow them to have a real meal. A real meal seems like the most distant memory, if there even is a memory of a real meal. [Y/N] no longer knows. Even having a friend seemed like a distant memory, they probably never even had a friend. What a lonely world.

They looked down at the sand that slowly enveloped their feet as if it were quicksand. But it wasn’t, quicksand being dangerous was a myth, wasn’t it? And it certainly wouldn’t be found in Calisota of all states, maybe more of the desert states that [Y/N] would love to avoid. Desert equals hot. Or was it that quicksand was found more in the tropical places? Quicksand would be wet, tropical places tend to be wet. Maybe the local library would have the answer to that one.

[Y/N] turned in the sand and faced the city of Duckburg. The city was pretty when the orange of the setting sun hit it from this angle. The buildings all had an orange tint–white was now a light orange, pink started to turn coral, blue began turning a grey-brown color. The birds were quick black blobs, whizzing past the skyline. They trudged back up the beach and glanced back at the boat. They almost felt bad for camping near the boat during the day, but the view was… stunning.

[Y/N] slowly climbed off the beach with a mission in mind. Going home. It wasn’t so fun in the dark. They kicked the sand off of their feet on the sidewalk then ran across the street.

“There goes the weird kid again.” The folk whispered as they crossed the three-way intersection.

“Quick, guard your belongings.” One guarded their belongings as [Y/N] walked past the outdoor restaurant tables.

“I bet those kids by the docks have their hands in this.” A couple leaned close together and murmured as they watched [Y/N] pass them with their hands in their pockets and no food in sight.

An elder spoke up. “That Donald Duck is not qualified to raise kids if he lets one of them go around thieving.”

Donald Duck. That’s a name to remember. They began to wonder if the whispers ever reached the ears of this Donald Duck character.

[Y/N] slunk into the alley between the newest Italian restaurant and the local coffee shop, both places usually had plenty of food simply tossed out back rather than thrown away properly or donated as they are required to be doing. Breads may have been stale, and pizzas have been burnt to a crisp and the extra’s on the menu ended up back here as well. The day felt different, almost as if something in the air had changed. Perhaps when the crazy scientist on the news station from the morning claimed to be making artificial air, he wasn’t joking. Air in a bottle would be weird. Flies circled the trash bags that have been sitting for days. [Y/N] watched them as they seemingly slowed down and paid close attention to them as they flew rhythmically.

They turned their attention to the slowly dimming orange light of the sun. As if hiding in an alley didn’t make the sun less vibrant already. [Y/N] watched as the folks elongated shadows disappeared to the left and right of the restaurant and coffee shop. They all seemed to be actively avoiding walking past the alley unless they were across the street. A lovely alley cat rattled a nearby trashcan as it ran up to [Y/N] begging them for their food. They would love to give the poor alley cat food, but they only found a few uncontaminated loaves of bread for themselves. The alley cate stared deep into their eyes. [Y/N] blinked and ripped their loaf in half and placed the half on the ground for the thin cat.

[Y/N] jumped at the sound of a heavy metal door hitting the back wall of the alley and the stray alley cat ran back behind the trashcans with their half of the loaf.

“Sir, the kid is back.” A barista holding trash bags yelled back into her building to her manager.

“Kid, I’ve told you, you can’t hang out back here.” The coffee shop manager stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

[Y/N] blinked up at the manager with a mouthful of bread. “Sorry, I guess I forgot.”

“Go home.” He sighed.

[Y/N] pulled themselves up off the ground and scooped up the other loaf of bread that they saved. They walked back into the now blueish-grey city. Their eyes flicked towards the birds of the night flocking to their favorite tree to squawk at some unsuspecting night-time runners. They quickly turned their attention to a pair of squirrels running towards a bird-less tree. The night was rather dull and empty, unusual for a Thursday. If today even was Thursday. [Y/N] couldn’t remember what they said the date was on the news this morning when they spent their last wad of cash on breakfast, in fact the only thing they remember from the news was that weird scientist and his air in a bottle.

They began their walk towards their makeshift shelter behind the abandoned mini mall (those strips of small business complexes that were “malls” because they had mall-type stores before malls became large indoor shopping centers–or more recently outdoor malls with the shape of indoor malls but were outdoor strips like strip malls). [Y/N] used to sleep inside the old mom-and-pop owned mattress store on one of the beds that was left behind when the strip went bankrupt from Scrooge McDuck’s unnecessary rent cost. Recently, one of Scrooge McDuck’s businesses bought the complex and cleared out each of the buildings, leaving them with nothing inside and no more inside access by changing the locks upon purchase. [Y/N] had no choice but to make themselves a shelter outside of the mall where no one would bother them as it is technically still abandoned as far as the city cares.

The makeshift shelter consisted of an old sleeping bag that they stole from a sports store–apparently camping is a sport, a makeshift tent made from stilts, blankets, and nails. The tent was really only there to ensure that no one would steal the few things that they owned. A bookbag full of clothes, a small selection of pocketknives, and a pot for cooking. Wood for building a very small flame was gathered depending on whether or not it was needed for food–typically the nights they would sneak onto the ships that sailed into the docks to import goods and fish. Fish at the docks was far from sushi-grade salmon; cooked or suffer the consequences. The boats that sailed in sometimes weren’t unloaded until the following day because they were essentially giant fridges inside, so at least they had that advantage compared to the market and the city shops. The market that surrounded the dock was a bit of a gamble to steal from because it had to be done in broad daylight.

[Y/N] sat down on their sleeping bag and bounded their legs against their feet like butterfly wings flapping–not to be confused with a moth. Not sure why those two things would be confused but butterflies are more pleasing to look at. Moths are terrifying. Their mind wandered to this Donald Duck character. Did he own the boat at the docks that they hung around? If so, why would the folk accuse him of having been involved with their scheme to eat? If he did own the boat, did he catch wind of the accusations? If he ever met them, would he be mad at them?

They laid back and smack their hands to their head in distress. They shook their head and laughed at those pesky thoughts. Somedays it wasn’t just the words spoken aloud that never seemed to let anyone catch up with them, it was also the words spoken in thought that never seemed to allow [Y/N] to catch up.

[Y/N] smiled as they watched the early morning market stalls begin to open up. The fish stalls were closest to the docks and the water while the more agricultural stalls were closer to the land–neat and smart. They took a deep breath; waiting for the stall owners to quit paying attention was so hard. They tapped their foot against the wooden boards impatiently and suddenly they sprinted towards the most appealing fish stall: flat Calisota fish. Sanddabs! They slowed their pace and crouched alongside the front of the stall to remain mostly unseen by the owner who hadn’t notice them yet. They quickly reached into the front most bin of Sanddabs and grabbed two by the tail. [Y/N] dashed towards the agricultural stalls, almost got out scot-free and yet they slowed their pace as they neared the fruits and vegetables, distracted by the boat engine coughing in the distance.

“That kid stole fish!” A deep voice yelled behind them. Heavy footsteps pounded against the boards after them.

[Y/N] exhaled slowly and stared at the shaking boat in the distance. The engine suddenly stopped, and the sound of incoherent yelling floated towards them.

“Grab that kid!” A female voice rang. The sound of a body hitting the sturdy wood echoed behind them.

[Y/N] turned to face the voices that caught them in the act, only for a tight grip to envelope their arm, giving no wiggle room. They thrashed in the large fisherman’s hand, the groaned and grunted as they tried to pull themselves away. All to no avail and they gave themselves an Indian burn.

“Drop the fish, kid.” The fisherman loomed over them. The fisherman wore a yellow raincoat and a matching hat. He had a hook for a left hand and a scar over his left eye. [Y/N]’s imagination ran wild, the swore they saw a flash of lightening behind this monster of a living-thing.

“No way!” [Y/N] continued to wriggle in the fisherman’s grasp. They twisted their arm and tried to walk backwards to get away only for their hand to be unable to slip through the fisherman’s fist.

He shook his head. “Then you got to pay for them.” His voice drew the attention of the entire market. It was a deep, but scratchy voice. He sounded like one of those characters from a ghost story. The Fisherman! That’s a story [Y/N] could write about one day. A horror novel about a scary, tall, freakish boat dweller. A hook for a hand, a scar over one eye, and thirsty for… Blood!

“I don’t have anything, but I have to eat too!” They tried pulling themselves away from the fisherman by using their free hand to free their trapped hand. The fisherman’s grip was tight. Painful even. And no amount of struggle was getting them anywhere – the fisherman had delt with rascals like them before, obviously, and the fisherman was no doubt someone that used to go to the gym. [Y/N] dropped the bag of sanddab and grunted as they kept trying to pull away with some useless strategy. Their heels slid across the boards as they failed to pull back. “Come on! Let go! I’m starving!”

“That’s the dumb kid that hangs around the Duck’s houseboat. I bet you steal for them, you little thief.” A slender fisherwoman noted. She was tall and lanky. Her nails were as sharp as some of the cruel words she kept to herself. “You know, kid, you shouldn’t steal. It might get you into some real trouble someday.” She laughed a velvety maniacal laugh as she reached down and grabbed the fallen fish with her nails.

“Give those back! I stole them square!” [Y/N] thrashed.

The fisherman released them from their grasped and laughed as [Y/N] hurled themselves into the ground. “You didn’t get far enough to steal them square, kid. If that Duck fellow is smart, he’d teach you how to steal properly.” The fisherman poked his hook through the two fish and walked towards the stall they came from.

“Run on home, you don’t want the authorities involved, do you?” The fisherwoman offered her warning.

[Y/N] shook their head and pulled themselves to their feet.

“And tell your old man to quit sending you out here. It’s getting pretty old.” She mused.

“I don’t know the guy who lives in that stupid boat! I just want to eat, why won’t you folks believe me?” [Y/N] raised their voice.

The fisherwoman shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you to get lost again. If we see you around here again, the nice chief of police will deal with you, and you can say bye-bye to your family.”

[Y/N] rubbed their arm and stomped away. These folk don’t seem to listen! They don’t know the family in the boat, they just hang around that area. They’re not family to [Y/N]. But having a family does sound nice. They pace back and forth across the street.

What to do?

What to do?

Do I steal from that family to prove to these folk that I’m not one of them? Do I let that family live without suffering from me thieving from them?

What to do?

What to do?

[Y/N] stopped in their tracks and watched the boat. The three boys ran off the boat yelling their goodbyes to their dad. They sighed and sat down on the curb. Their stomach was rumbling, and it was Fish Friday. It could easily be turned into Pizza Friday or Chicken Friday or something of the sorts, couldn’t it? It could, but they wanted Fish Friday. They didn’t want to keep missing out but sometimes they have to. [Y/N] picked up a white pebble and scraped it along the sizzling Calisota road. White streaks followed their hand movement. It’s a pebble but it draws like it is chalk. Weird. But today has to be Pizza Friday or something at this rate. The Italian restaurant doesn’t open until noon on Friday’s. It was a weird thought but if this family of four was getting hounded for their actions, how much trouble were they really causing? And is the dad a single dad? He must be, [Y/N] has never seen another adult leave or enter the boat. Slowly, they started to feel worse. A dad of three having to deal with the consequences of [Y/N]’s actions.

Ugh!

They continued to scrap the little pebble across the ground and felt as it shrunk. They bounced their legs–right, left, right, left–in rapid succession.

“Hey! What’s the big idea!” An incoherent voice shouted.

“Well, if it isn’t Donald Duck,” the fisherman chuckled. “Come to pick up your thieving brat?” The fisherman pointed at [Y/N].

The short duck, called Donald Duck, looked over at [Y/N]. “That’s not one of my boys.” He protested.

“You’re pulling my leg, Duck.” The fisherman crossed his arms. “You’re trying to tell me that that kid, sitting right there, isn’t yours? They play around the boat. I’ve never seen them anywhere else.”

“I only have three boys.” Donald began.

The fisherman put his hand up. “I don’t want to hear it, Duck. Until you straighten that kid you, your whole family isn’t allowed here. That means quit thieving. You hear?”

[Y/N] accidentally locked eyes with this Donald Duck character. They stood up and prepared for the worst confrontation of their life. Or so they thought. Their jittery brain moved their legs father than they could think of what to do next. They ran through the streets.

“Sorry!”

“’Scuse me!”

“My bad!”

[Y/N] ran through a crowd waiting for a bus and swerved between folk just simply walking. They ran in front of a couple of cyclists and nearly knocked them all down. [Y/N] huffed as they neared the empty public park. The climbed up the slide and hid in the peak. [Y/N] breathed heavily and leaned against the circular rocket wall.

Almost caught!

They squeezed their eyes shut. The “duck” who lived in the houseboat must be furious with them now. Getting him banned from the market because everyone there thinks they are one of his boys. There has to be something they can do.

[Y/N] scooted toward the slide and slid down. They sat at the end of the slid and looked around. Empty as it should be. They ran back to their makeshift shelter with a brilliant plan in mind, sneaking through their usual shortcuts between shops and businesses. Taking 7th Avenue versus taking 13th Avenue. Climbing an apartment buildings fire escape and jumping from fire escape to fire escape, then from rooftop to rooftop, until they reach the corner of Main and 2nd. They jumped from the roof of the pizzeria onto the large oak tree they planted outside of their building. [Y/N] climbed down the tree and walked toward the abandoned strip mall. That actually was not a shortcut, that took a lot longer than [Y/N] had hoped! Maybe they’re losing their touch or time itself is slowing down.

Like a curse!

Oh no, a curse!

[Y/N] walked toward the little strip mall and inhaled. They looked at themselves in the reflection of the dust covered glass. Tattered clothes, the graphic print was faded into near nothingness, hair was a knotted mess–hairbrushes were hard to find. [Y/N] turned around at the sight of a red aircraft taking off from nearby. They walked out from under the awning and watched the craft waver and stagger in the sky. They looked down at their clothes–the color was easier to see when looking down. Brown and blue. [Y/N] turned and walked around the building.

Home sweet h–awe man.

They came face to face with a notice on their tent–how gracious of the new building owners to let them know they only have today to remove themselves from the premises or they will be removed by force or by the authorities (which was by force but with extra steps). They laughed at the notice and crumpled it in their hands and dropped it at their feet. They grabbed their bag and slung it over their shoulder and rolled their sleeping bag up and secured it with three thinning rope pieces. The tent can stay, it’s not worth moving as they have no way to carry it or dismantle the stilt skeleton.

[Y/N] held their sleeping bag under their arm and slowly walked away from the building. They could check the homeless shelters again to see if there were any spaces for them now, or they could skip that and go straight to sleeping on the side of the roads again. They weighed their options and felt like the first option would just land them on the street automatically. It wasn’t so bad sleeping in the open but falling off of a bench definitely felt bad though.

[Y/N] walked on, falling out of touch with reality. They walked out to the docks where there was a single dinghy with their name on it. The SS [Y/N] was ready to set sail into the unknown. They breathed in the salty and fishy sea and threw their sleeping bag and bookbag over the side of the dinghy. [Y/N] looked behind them to take in one last look of Duckburg. The city skyline was bright, it was almost as if they could see everything. The colors of the taller buildings against the shorter ones. The clear avoidance of looking at Flintheart Glomgold and Scrooge McDuck’s buildings. They turned on their heel and climbed into the dinghy and set sail to who knows where! Adventure! Mystery! New life! And danger awaited them!

“YOU!” A scratchy voice called.

“Huh?” [Y/N] found themselves back in reality, walking past the public park yet again–no help from that so-called shortcut.

“Get back here!” The scratchy voice called again. “You need to stop causing trouble!”

[Y/N] stared at the duck from earlier. Run? Run. The answer was to run and avoid confrontation. They ran toward the park and ducked underneath the slide. The duck followed them into the park, yelling incoherently for them to stop running from him so that they could talk. Talking was most definitely[Y/N]’s strong suit but confrontation was not. They ran out from under the playground and toward the fence. [Y/N] came to a screeching halt at the fence. They peered through a crack between two panels. Sweet alleyway. They thew their sleeping bag over the top of the fence and quickly looked back at the angry, unintelligible duck chasing them. They jumped up and just barely grabbed the top of the fence. They started to swing their legs until they could get their heel over the top. Using their heel and their leg strength, [Y/N] threw themselves over the fence and landed on their sleeping bag with a thump.

“Oof–.”

[Y/N] dove into the alleyway and hid behind an empty dumpster. The duck that was chasing them ran straight into the fence with a thump and shouted some explicit words that they have only heard Ma Beagle and the Beagle Boys use in public. The duck thumped his head against the fence softly and sighed.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said.

[Y/N] only held their breath and waited for the duck to disappear. They blinked at the wall in front of them and slowly slipped away from reality to imagine what catastrophe might occur of they came face to face with this crazy duck from the docks.

[Y/N] stood up and walked toward the fence. “Only if you move away from the fence. I’ll come back over.” They spoke slowly. They jumped up and peered over the top of the fence to see that the mysterious duck had backed away from the fence. “I’m coming back over. Watch out.” They said as a warning. [Y/N] swung their leg over the fence flawlessly and flipped themselves over. They landed on their feet as if they had been practicing fence jumping their entire life. They looked up at the duck–he was rather calm for having just screamed incoherently for what seemed like a very long time (well, save for the red flesh-tone poking out from underneath his feathers).

“What are you causing all kinds of trouble for, kid?” He restrained himself.

[Y/N] shrugged their shoulders. “I have to eat. This is how I eat.”

The duck stared at them. “You steal to eat? Where are you parents?”

[Y/N] sighed. “If I had any, do you think I’d be stealing?”

The duck remained silent; it was a valid point.

They outstretched their arms. “My clothes look like I pulled them out of a woodchipper, I don’t even have warm clothes because I can’t find any. I used to live behind the old mattress store, but I was told to leave by one of Scrooge McDuck’s stupid businesses or I’d be in serious trouble, and I don’t want to talk to any mean cops. I can’t even find a brush to brush my hair, okay? This is the reality!” Their voice strained.

“You don’t have any family anywhere?” He asked.

“None.” They spoke.

The duck fell silent again and pulled out a phone. “Someone needs to get involved. No kid should be out here like this.”

“No don’t do that!” They smacked the duck’s phone out of his hands.

In the blink of an eye, the entire police unit jumped out of the shadows and surrounded them.

[Y/N] gasped and hit their head against the wall of the building. They blinked and looked around at the alley. “Man, I’m good at making up scenarios that will never happen.” They whispered to themselves. [Y/N] got up and walked toward the fence again and peered through the crack between two panels. There was no one there. No one was waiting. No one was going to get involved. They sighed, relieved and hid back behind the dumpster for the night.

[Y/N] woke up to a black sky with specks of twinkling glitter. They sat up and rubbed their hands together–it was a little chilly without the sleeping bag encasing them. They slung the bag over their shoulders and picked up their sleeping bag. They peered out of the crack in the fence again and saw nothing except for streetlights illuminating the park and a single raccoon racing its own shadow. They threw their sleeping bag back over the fence and groaned. Actually, they don’t even remember falling asleep–how did that happen?

Again, we go!

They jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence and swung their leg up a handful of times and whined. “This is so much easier in the movies!” They swung their leg up again until they finally got their foot over the top of the fence and flipped themselves over the fence. [Y/N] landed on their sleeping bag with a thump, they rolled off of the bag onto their side. They were so much better at this in their little fictional scenario…

Not cool.

They got up onto their feet.

About that brilliant idea I forgot about.

A gift! Yeah!

And ran toward the docks. The boats were at the docks. That was a good sign. That meant [Y/N] could get their hands on something delicious and raw. They ran across the shaky wooden dock and up to the side of the boat. They backed up, dropped their sleeping bag and bookbag close to the main dock building, and ran, giving themselves enough momentum to jump and land on the deck. And they did just that–sort of. They rolled on the deck and kept rolling until they were in front of the hatch. They opened the hatch. All fishing boats kept their catches below deck, for obvious reason, especially in these new prototype freezer boats. They peered down the now open hatch of the boat and stared down at the stored fish with the help of the moon. They jumped down and looked for the smallest crate of fish. They weaved through the barrels and ice coolers of freshly caught fish until they reached the crates of ready to sell fish. A single crate of five fish on ice wouldn’t hurt for them to miss, would it? It would be a great gift, right? [Y/N] grabbed the top crate and hauled it towards the open hatch. They set the crate down at their feet and turned back around. There has to be a lid somewhere. They ventured back into the freezer and looked around for something that resembled a lid. Most of what was down here were fish, full crates, and empty crates. They shuddered and walked back towards the open hatch and pulled the ladder down. [Y/N] picked the crate back up and climbed up the ladder with one hand and little to no balance.

Once they reached the deck the set the crate down on the deck and leaned over onto their stomach and crawled forward. They turned around and stuck their hand down the hatch and pulled the ladder back up as if they were never there. They then closed the hatch and jumped to their feet. [Y/N] grabbed the crate and held it with their arms over the fish just resting on top. Without much thought, [Y/N] ran in the direction of the dock jumped over the little boat wall onto the dock. They landed on their feet but lost their balance and fell backward.

“Ha-ha!” They laughed with pride. “Success!”

[Y/N] scrambled to their feet and walked towards their bags–now it’s just a game of carrying everything without dropping it all. They set the crate of fish down and slung their bookbag back over their shoulder and lifted held the crate of fish under their arm as if they were carrying a laundry basket and held their sleeping bag under their other arm. The ice will keep the fish cool for a while, but fish alone isn’t sufficient enough. There must be something else [Y/N] could give to the duck that lives in the houseboat.

They walked away from the market dock and back towards the quiet city. The streetlights illuminated everything. Flies, stray animals, wild animals, trash spilling out of the alleyways, and folk just like them. [Y/N] scurried past everything and everyone that focused on their crate of iced fish.

Gotta hide now.

Gotta get to one of those superstores.

[Y/N] turned the corner and started walking in the direction of Duckburg’s 24-hr superstore. The store is said to have it all: groceries, costumes, home appliances, furniture, technology, crafts, plants, and more. Crazy to think that a store could hold so much–terrible to think that it’s okay to be open 24-hrs. Yuck! Two gifts will always be better than one and this superstore is the best place to get another gift. Probably.

I have no idea what that boat dweller likes.

What would you get someone that you’ve inconvenienced?

[Y/N] stood on the barely occupied parking lot. “Oh, my God.” The store from the outside was huge. Now where were they going to hide their stuff while the looked to steal? They looked around the parking lot.

Open space.

More open space,

Oh look, bushes.

More open space,

Wait, bushes!

[Y/N] slowly walked towards the far side of the parking lot the housed the bushes in question. The parking lot was very empty and dark along this side. No one seemed to park over in this direction and for some reason they didn’t install as many lights. Kind of convenient! Maybe the lack of lights is what caused there to be no cars? They picked up their pace as they were somehow moving too slow for their own liking. They set the crate of fish down in the bushes–more ice might be in order for these guys. [Y/N] set down their sleeping bag and untied the breaking ropes. They promptly emptied the contents of their bookbag onto the sleeping bag and rolled it back up in order to protect what little they owned. They rolled the sleeping bag back up and walked towards the store.

[Y/N] walked through the automatic sliding doors and was wowed instantly. The store went on for miles and miles! They looked around with large, surprised eyes and they smiled at how far back the walls go. They walked further into the store and followed the hanging signs. This section is clothes, this one is kitchen appliances. That one toward the back is electronics. [Y/N] has no idea what to look for in this disaster of a store–maybe they can find the arts and crafts section and make this duck something. They had no idea where to start their little gift hunting adventure. [Y/N] turned on their heel and walked toward the kitchen appliances. Pots and pans!

Grown-ups seem to have an endless supply of pots and pans. I am giving him fish so maybe I can give him new pots and pans for the fish.

[Y/N] stared at all of the different types of pans. Stainless Steel, Non-stick, Carbon Steel, Stone Earth, classic pans, double pans, and Iron pans! They are way in over their head right now. They had, however, heard that the newest fancy-folk restaurant uses the Stone Earth pans. If a restaurant uses something that means they’re good, right? They blinked at the ashy stone-colored pan set and grabbed it off of the hook and shrugged. A set of five should be good enough. They glanced to their sides to ensure no one was watching and stuffed the pans in their empty bookbag.

Ice, ice baby!

[Y/N] walked out of the aisle, lost. No idea where to find ice. They huffed and walked towards the front of the store where most grocery stores usually kept their ice. They were greeted with a sign on the ice cooler: “Ice temporarily unavailable at this location.” They groaned. With how early in the day it is, o other store was open and [Y/N] stole those fish for nothing! They stomped out of the store and snickered as they got out without any alarms wailing about a stolen product. [Y/N] continued to drag their feet as they walked all the way to where they had hidden their belongings.

[Y/N] climbed up the side of the houseboat with one arm and coughed out some water they had inhaled. They dropped the Stone-Earth pan set–wrapped in their sleeping bag to avoid getting drenched with salt water–over the ledge of the boat. They hurled themselves over the boat and lay on their side, coughing out ore water they have inhaled. Salt water does not taste that grand, it’s a zero-star review. [Y/N] rolled onto their hands and knees and slowly pulled themselves to their feet using the wall next to them. The boys had left about 40 minutes ago, and the Donald Duck character had left about 15 minutes ago. [Y/N] should be in the clear.

They unrolled their sleeping bag and pulled the pan set out. The packaging got a little wet but that wouldn’t hurt any of the pans, right? [Y/N] rolled the sleeping bag back up and secured it with their last surviving rope (not for long) and looped their hand through the rope, holding the knot as an extra safety measure. They walked along the deck until the found was they thought was a “front” door, it was probably just the door to the hull (the hull? The house part?). [Y/N] jiggled the doorknob–locked, as expected.

[Y/N] walked in circles wondering, now, how to sneak the gift through the door. They aren’t a magician, it’s not like they can snap their fingers and poof! The gift is inside.

“Why you–! What’s the big idea? What are you doing here?” The scratchy voice called out.

“Busted.” They whispered to themselves. “Maybe not.”

He angrily walked up and onto the boat. “What are–?”

[Y/N] held the set of pans in front of their face and squeezed their eyes shut. “This is for you. I know those folks at the dock have been giving you loads of trouble ‘cause of me and I thought I could give you something for it. I was hoping to leave it or that someone was home to take it for you. I didn’t mean the run from you yesterday. Those same folks were giving me trouble–that’s nothing new though.” They slowly lowered and pan and peered over it to view the duck before them.

“That’s… awfully kind of you.” Donald eyed them.

“I don’t want to be your enemy or have those folk make enemies out of you. It’s not right. I don’t know what they expect me to do. I still haven’t found a new place to sleep. And no one even listens to me. I can scream so loud about not being one of your kids, but they don’t hear me. Just ‘cause they see me by the water, they think I belong to you. I just like the way the water looks from over there.” [Y/N] motioned their head towards where they usually camp out in the day. “Your boats nice. I want to live on a boat one day–sail away from Duckburg and all the people here. There’s nothing for me here anyway, I just have no way of getting a boat right now. Here, take the gift.” They shoved the pans toward Donald.

Donald took the gift from their hand. “How’d you get these–actually don’t tell me.”

[Y/N] smiled up at Donald. “I hope they’re good. I heard that new fancy-folk restaurant up near Mister Glomgold’s building uses these types of pans. I thought that if a restaurant uses them, they must be really good. I didn’t really know what to get you to say that I’m sorry for causing all kinds of trouble. I really didn’t mean to be a pain.”

“Would you like to come in for brunch?” Donald asked.

[Y/N] shook their head. “I should leave you be. You must be busy and all. I’ve seen your boys around, they’re crazy. They must be so lucky that you put up with them. I wish I had someone to put up with me.” They flashed Donald a small smile and slowly walked off of the boat. “Oh!” They turned on their heels.

“Yes?” Donald nearly perked up as if they were going to change their mind.

“I promise not to cause trouble around here anymore. It’s not fair to you.” They turned back around and walked toward the city. Blocking out any sound that wasn’t the ocean or the screeching of the seagulls, they ran across the street with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

[Y/N] walked where their thoughts guided them: the police station. Surely that was a smart plan, an action plan. The stuck-up police can guide them in the right direction–more like take control of the situation. Was even walking in that direction smart anymore? [Y/N] paused across the street of the horrific police station. The grey building with black and blue accents and lightening behind it. Suddenly, the thought of using these folk for help was a bad thought and an even worse idea. They gulp and they ran across the street, having no regard for street laws. [Y/N] ran straight to the revolving doors and spun around them thrice for the sake of spinning a third time. They stumbled, partially dizzy, into the station and up to the front desk.

“Can you help?” They squeaked.

“Of course, what can I help you with, kiddo?” The officer at the front desk asked.

[Y/N] took a deep breath. “My names [Y/N] and I can’t find any room at any of the shelters. Is there any way you can help me with that?”

The officer furrowed his eyebrows in distress. “No room at the homeless shelter, ‘ey? Well, let me see if Officer Cabrera is available. Just between you and me, she might have to ship you out to one of the local orphanages–and they aren’t local.” The officer turned away from [Y/N] and lifted the phone.

[Y/N] stared, breathless. Orphanage. Out of Duckburg. For some reason that felt wrong to them now. It was practically a dream come true to get out of Duckburg, they just weren’t leaving on a boat. That glimmer of hope that that Donald Duck character had when they turned on their heel, what was all that about?

The officer faced [Y/N] again. “She’ll be back in about 30 minutes. She’s going to make some calls on her way here to get something sorted out. It’s a good thing you came by. How about I call for some lunch for you?”

[Y/N]’s eyes sparkled. “Lunch? I’m starving. Can I get some seafood? Oh, no! Maybe some sandwiches instead. I do also like pizza. I’m not going to lie; I really like a lot of foods.”

“Slow down. I was thinking pizza since they deliver. What toppings–?” The officer asked.

“Meat lovers! Or chicken, bacon, and ranch! Veggie pizzas are always good! Caprese pizzas are yummy! I can’t decide!” [Y/N] threw their arms over the front desk. “You can pick for me. I’m not picky. How nice is Officer Cabrera? Who is she calling?”

The officer raised his eyebrows as he watched [Y/N] move and talk a mile a minute. “Right, let’s go with cheese. And she’s, um, just making phone calls. Seeing if we can find out if you have family.” The officer paused.

“If I do, they’re not in Duckburg. And it’s not like they’ll just up and take me when they get a phone call. Folk, even family, don’t are all too much. I would know.” [Y/N] snarled. “Don’t even bother looking for any family, if I had any that cared they would’ve helped back when mom and dad–.” They paused as the tears started to form. The pushed away from the front desk and stomped over to the chairs.

“We’ll do everything we can to get you out of this situation, alright?” The officer changed their tone entirely. They voice was now soft and trying to express some level of understanding–the officer will never understand.

[Y/N] sat in the chair and kicked their feet up and swung them back down. They were frustrated, maybe even a little sad now, with even coming here. The officer wanted to help but family was not the way to start. They didn’t even want to know right away what might happen to them when that Officer Cabrera arrives, but the officer at the front desk told them anyway assuming that they wanted to know what was probably going to happen.

They wandered back to that Donald Duck character. Why did he want [Y/N] to stay for brunch? Was he going to call the cops? Did he just want to talk to them? Now [Y/N] wished they stayed back and found out.

“Wait!”

“Stop!”

“Huh?” [Y/N] turned around to see the same duck coming back into the picture for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Donald Duck.” Officer Cabrera crossed her arms and watched the hot-headed duck approach them. “What are you doing here?”

Donald came to a screeching halt. “They’re my responsibility.” He huffed and pointed at [Y/N].

“Do you have legal proof?” Officer Cabrera asked.

Donald gulped and motioned for Officer Cabrera to step to the side with him.

[Y/N] stood in front of the police car with a slice of pizza in hand and the look of confusion written all over their face. They watched the adults whisper aggressively back and forth while motioning sporadically at [Y/N]. Words such as “homeless” and “proper care” and “orphanage” and “chance” were thrown around in haste. [Y/N] bobbed from heel to toe as they decided it was time to look up–literally, not figurately. Gloomy clouds started to roll over. A large flock of black dots flew strategically away from the clouds, presumably somewhere where they would be dry. The oncoming wind blew a few drops of grease down [Y/N]’s hand. Instinctively, they licked the grease drops.

Officer Cabrera shook her head as she returned to the police car. She clicked the keys and popped open the trunk. “Here’s what I bought today. Clothes and toiletries. I except to see you here next Monday for that meeting I’m going to be setting up.” Her expression quickly changes from hard to a sweet smile. “Until then, [Y/N], keep Mr. Duck here out of trouble for me.” She winked.

Donald tugged at his collar and let out a nervous laugh. He quickly grabbed they few plastic store bags of items for [Y/N] out of the trunk. “What do you mean keep me out of trouble?”

“We’ll see you Monday, Mr. Duck.” Officer Cabrera slammed the trunk shut and crossed her arms.

“What’s going on?” [Y/N] watched Donald walk past.

Donald looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

[Y/N] jogged after Donald. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you home.” Donald said nonchalantly. “And on Monday I’m starting the process.”

[Y/N] raised their eyebrows. “What process? I don’t like when you grown-ups talk in riddles. Riddles never helped anyone! I don’t have a home, so I don’t understand where you’re taking me.” They followed close behind Donald and wiped their hands on their shirt to get the crumbs from their pizza off their hands. “Officer Cabrera was supposed to take me somewhere today.”

Donald nodded. “And I changed those plans. You’re coming home with me. On Monday, I have to start–.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you just kidnap me?” [Y/N] asked.

“No.”

[Y/N] narrowed their eyes. “Surprise adoption? It’s like kidnapping but legal.”

Donald blinked. “Surprise adoption?”

[Y/N] fist bumped. “Yes! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! Look out world, [Y/N] has a new home! And a new life!” They laughed. The laughed died out and [Y/N] sunk into their thoughts. They looked across the street at a mother and her two children. The children were like two peas in a pod. They then noticed a mother and a father and their two children getting along. [Y/N] shook their head and tried to focus on walking. But they couldn’t just walk. They thought about Donald’s three boys and if they would all get along. Their hands felt clammy, and they began to feel sick about the whole thing. What if because they were new, the boys didn’t like them? What if the boys just didn’t like them because they were causing trouble or because they were formerly homeless? What if? What if? What if?

“Gah!” [Y/N] threw their hands in the air. “What if they hate me?” They blurted out.

“Who?” Donald asked.

They forgot he was here… “Your boys! What if they hate me for being new? Or because I was causing trouble? Do they even know about me causing all that trouble? Do they even know that you’re bringing me home? I don’t want them to hate me for all that.” [Y/N] inhaled deeply. “I got so caught in you taking me with you that I didn’t even think about them.”

Donald stopped walking and turned to face [Y/N], who walked into him. “They won’t hate you. I’m sure they’ll just teach you new ways to cause trouble–that’s all they do.”

[Y/N] looked up and Donald and balled their fists. “Okay! Let’s go.”

“I’m surprised you understand me.” Donald said.

“Huh?” [Y/N] looked over at him.

Donald sighed. “I’m surprised you understand me.”

“What, with the talking thing? I understand you perfectly fine. Your voice sounds a little rough and earsplitting, but I can understand you fine.” [Y/N] ran up the boat ramp. “Is this boat magic? It looks so small from here. I bet it’s bigger on the inside, isn’t it?”

“That’s what the boys tell me.” Donald chuckled. He set [Y/N]’s bags down next to the door and pulled out his keys. He unlocked the door and turned on his heel to see that [Y/N] had grabbed their bags, ready to go downstairs. Donald led them down the stairs. “Are you alright sleeping on an air mattress tonight if I can’t get you a bed?”

“I’ll sleep on an air mattress forever. Which room?” [Y/N] started walking.

Donald pulled their bags out of their hands and walked towards the door intended for [Y/N]. [Y/N] pushed the door open and smiled at the room. A triple bunk tucked in one corner. Red was on the top, blue was in the middle, and green was on the bottom bunk. There was an air mattress just below the round window with bedsheets and pillows stacked high with an assortment of colors. The closet tucked away on the back wall as full and overflowing with blues. Next to the closet were three dressers. One was overflowing with greens and the other two were neat and nothing was spilling out. The floor was a disaster–toys and things and papers everywhere to the point they were swimming in stuff.

“Uncle Donald! We’re home.” One of the boys called.

“The far dresser is going to be yours.” Donald said.

[Y/N] dragged their bags toward the far dresser and pointed at it. “This one?” The set the bags of clothes and necessities down in front of the dresser and already began filling it haphazardly. “This is so cool.”

“Hey Uncle Donald, what’s going on?” Another one of the boys asked.

“Uncle Donald surprise adopted us a fourth sibling.” The third boy said. “I’m Dewey.”

[Y/N] paused in their tracks. “I’m [Y/N]. And you’re right, I was surprise adopted. I’m surprised!”

“These are my brothers, Huey, the red one and Louie, the green one.” Dewey introduced his siblings.

“Huey, Dewey, and Louie.” [Y/N] pointed at each triplet and listed who they were.

Donald stood in the doorway with his hand against his head. “It’s not really a surprise adoption.”

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