#otherwise his transformation would have been lackluster

[pinkexpertnerdghost]

Watch and Be Amazed!

Lyney x Gn!Reader

Synopsis: As a simple person with a boring job, you set out to travel the nations. You attend a renowned magic show only to be suddenly placed in the shared spotlight with the magical duo.

GIF by @c6jpg

 { i'm still exploring Fontaine but quick heads up on mentioning new locations, dw its spoiler free about the archon quest}

General: SFW, fluffy, magic tricks, Lyney being extra and sneaky, feat Lynette 

A/N: i love him. Cheeky little guy with his equally cheeky little grin mulkin cat- I didn’t think I’d like him this much but he easily sneaked himself into my heart already also because I recently got him- I just wanna squish him (endearingly)

“ Voila! And now in its place are our feathered friends taking flight!” The magician exclaimed as a small swarm of doves flew out of his hands. Just seconds ago, he held a gorgeous bouquet of arranged daisies and prisma like roses, complete with adorned white ribbons and lace. The small bush of green and flora had simply vanished and transformed into a mass of white feathers. 

Your awes become a droplet in the sea of gasps and astonishment from the people around you . Pushing yourself to the end of your cushy seat, you stare ahead in amazement and curiosity.  

Even though you sat some rows away from the front seats, you were mesmerized by the trick. You were certain the bouquet had practically melted and shifted into the cocoon of feathers. At least, that’s how it appeared to your eyes.  

Trailing the doves as they flew above the audience, you unconsciously let out a small laugh of joy like that of an entertained child. The doves flew around freely, some reaching high atop the Opera House’s stretching ceiling and some flew closer to the audience barely grazing above their heads. 

You had been traveling for weeks, as you were lacking some excitement in your mundane life as a simple shop clerk. It had a well off pay and the owner was kind. Yet every passing day became more boring than the last. Soon enough, the days would weld and mend together in your memory as a tapestry of a lackluster pattern. You were afraid it would overshadow a great portion of your lifetime. 

As a shop clerk, you had seen many travelers coming and going, talking about the beautiful sceneries across the rest of Teyvat they have witnessed, varies dishes you’ve never tried before being described as mouthwatering, the wonderful cultures, festivities and traditions people from around this world took part in. It had always left you in a state of entrance and jealousy for them, as they would have the freedom and determination to see the worlds wonders with their own eyes.

Seeing your yearning gaze and saddened expression when the travelers or adventurers left through the front door, your employer had generously given you some vacation time. You were one of your boss’s most dedicated workers, often swooping in for a fellow coworker if they fell ill or couldn’t make it otherwise. You have done more than enough to earn yourself this time off. 

And so, you took your life by the rings and were off into the road. Traveling from one nation to the other and to the now where you were. In the seat in one of the most impressive buildings you have ever seen. 

From the moment you boarded off the Aquabus; the little guides being one of the cutest beings you’ve ever seen; you oogled and awed in the splendor around you. Fontaine had been one leap of a cultural shock for you. Sure, sometimes you moved boxes of bits and bobs of Fontaine imported trinkets onto shelves, but seeing this much advanced technology was a bit exhilarating as well as a bit imposing

However, something there was something that immediately caught your eye when walking about. On a bulletin board was an array of multicolored posters and newsletter, but the bright red one with a grinning cat in the hat caught your gaze immediately. 

“ Come and behold A magical performance performed by renowned Magicians Lyney and Lynette! ” 

The names struck a cord in your memory. Ah, that's right! You had heard a great deal about a very specific Magic show in Fontaine. You remembered it being brought up a good number of times back in the shop. The way people would sound excited and how they could barely contain themselves trying to describe a magic trick as best they could. 

Since you were in the area you had managed to investigate it and wound up purchasing a ticket to go see.  

“ Back to the stage my feathery entourage!! Being in the presence of such a wonderful audience is indeed riveting, but I’m going to need the spotlight back to preform the next trick, haha!” The magician Lyney said with a pleading laugh. The doves seem to have understood them as they all flew back onto the stage. From either side of the giant velvet curtain, the flew behind it disappearing into the shadow. 

“ For this next trick, I’m going to need a hand!” He exclaimed while putting his hands on his hips. He then put a hand on his forehead and looked around the area while squinting his eyes. From the right side of the stage came another person. She had on a similar uniform to her twin brother, adorned with teals, blues and grays. It was a counterpart to the reds, pinks, and plum Lyney wore in his intricate performer’s outfit. 

Yet they both had the motif of that same toothy grinning kitty you saw tagging the corner’s of the promotional posters. 

Lynette had walked behind Lyney and tapped his shoulder twice with a stoic expression. Lyney had turned dramatically around on his heel, immediately stopping his dire search for help.

“Ah, It seems as though Lynette has come to the rescue!” He cheered and with a grateful hand gesture divided the audience's attention to Lynette. She stood there facing the crowd with a curt expression. Lynette seemed to be the polar opposite of her brother. While Lyney was loud, extravagant and energetic, his assistant and sister was quieter, docile and seemed unmoved with the theatrics. However, to you she was as equally impressive as the red Magician. 

In an earlier trick where they’d pull objects directly out of flat cards, Lynette had elegantly swiped off a parasol, a tea cup with piping hot tea given the steam, and an adorable hat with that grinning black cat. All while keeping a calm disposition as if she knew everything and anything that was to come. It boggled you how she managed to slip the illustrations to real physical objects.

But then again, the Magicians never reveal their trade secrets.

Lyney tapped his cheek before he spoke again. “It seems as if we will need a little more help to perform this magic trick, wouldn’t you agree Lynette?” 

Lynette simply nodded.

Lyney’s shoulders relaxed as he twirled around to face the audience. He held his hands behind his back as he paced back and forth. His eyes never leave the audience.

“ For this trick, It will require three people.”

There were very quiet, almost inaudible murmurs and whispers in the crowd. You paid them no mind and kept your eyes focused on the stage. In your mind, you were guessing how the next trick would go.

Lyney stopped center stage.

“ I can see your enthusiasm and excitement! In that case, I shall pick one person from the crowd who will help Lynette and I out!” He said with a jovial grin. His cat-like eyes scanned around the crowd. After this, many people kept their eyes on the Magician scoping out for an available assistant. 

Seeing as you weren’t in the first row or a local, you have settled that your chance of being picked was slim. So instead of paying attention to the main stage and spotlight, you turned your head from side to side. Envisioning the lucky person who would be fished out of the ocean of filled seats. Perhaps it would be the beautiful woman with quite the attractive headpiece sitting a row down from you. Or maybe, it would be the little boy three five seats to your left practically bouncing in his seat chanting to let it be him. 

The choice could be anyone but yourself.

“ You my dear! Could you help Lynette and I out with this trick?” Lyney’s voice resounded once more.

Your eyes squirted suddenly as a bright source of light was now trained above you. Sinking back onto your seat, you turn to face the stage. 

Those cat-like lilac eyes stared directly into your own [E/C] ones. Alongside with the deep royal purple eyes belonging to his assistant Lynette. Looking around and behind, you noticed the two people beside you glance at you with slight surprise. 

You pointed at yourself just to make sure. You didn’t know if you made a face with the sudden surprise of the spotlight, but Lyney chuckled in amusement. 

His eyes crinkled slightly as he nodded, his hair bobbing along with his head and sturdy hat. His laughter made you feel a bit fuzzy in the chest. Maybe you were just starstruck. 

“ Yes you. If it is alright, could you perhaps follow the staff by your row to escort you on stage?” He said, extending a hand to a person in a theater mask and green vest standing at the end of the row. His lilac eyes never left you. 

It was hard to say, but you could assume he was silently communicating with you. His soft eyes were patient and still, unlike his theatrical energy he demonstrated earlier. 

‘ Are you okay with this? ‘ 

He didn’t mind the sudden recess of silence, in fact it only added to the build up to the magic trick. It wasn’t long until you blinked, breaking yourself out of your star-stricken surprise. 

You nodded at Lyney, to which he gripped the brim of his hat quietly tipping it to you with a satisfied grin.

“ Very well, please follow the staff down the aisle while we set up on stage!” 

After squeezing down your row and next to the staff member with the mask, you followed them as they led you towards the stage. The staff member was kind enough to guide you through the dimly lit place, your eyes were examining the person. Their mask is what stuck with you, you’ve never seen anything like it. It was both beautifully crafted yet it gave you a small chill of danger and mystic. It was probably made for this purpose of the show. 

No elemental magic of those who wielded visions, but instead a tightrope thinly strung between reality and fantasy.

The stage was elevated but after climbing up the stairs onto the polished stage. Lyney beckoned you to come up next to him. You shuffled closer, both your hands behind your back fidgeting in a nervous manner.

The spotlight was now back onto Lyney and Lynette and now you as well.

“ Might I know the name of the new assistant I’ll be working with temporarily?” He asked as he now faced you. Lynette came to his side, her violet eyes glazing over you with relaxed attentiveness. 

You felt your mouth become a bit dry. “ I’m [Name].” You spoked normally. 

Lyney bowed, taking off his tophat bringing it close to his chest. 

“ It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear [Name]” He bounced back up, flipping his hat back onto his head. 

You shifted on your foot and that seemed to have caught the attention of the magical duo. 

“ Hmm, are you perhaps nervous?” He asked. “ It is quite alright. Whenever the light is trained on you, the feeling of stage fright comes at you like the onslaught of tidal waves.” He said, in a non projecting voice. He still sounded loud enough for the audience to hear, but his words weren’t exaggerated in a way to make you feel queasy. Instead, it sounded like he was cheering you on, a little push of confidence he would share with you.

Maybe you were overthinking it. He is a performer so its his job to turn up the charm towards the audience.

Lynette had subtly sent you a reassuring little smile. She walked up next to you and stood by you now.

 “ Perhaps, you may just have some butterflies in your stomach. It happens to the best of us!” He spoke. His gloved hand came up to you.

“ May I have what’s in your side pocket?” His eyes shifted down to your right pocket. Confused, you reach down into your pocket and feel around. There was a smooth and flat object that you didn’t remember having there, so you slipped it out. 

In your hand was a playing card. It wasn’t an ordinary playing card. It looked to be one of the card props that belonged to the two Magicians. Figuring he wanted it back; without you having the faintest Idea of how it got there in the first place; you handed it to him. 

He grabbed the card and raised it up to his face to inspect it.

“Aha! Just as I thought. You had made a bundle of these pesky little butterflies.” He slipped the card back to his palm. He twirled back to face you with a triumphant smile as if he’d found a treasure chest. “ Fear not, for I will rid you of this troubling kaleidoscope!”

With that being said, he tossed the card over your head.

Or at least, a zipping card was what you were expecting.

Instead, a small little tornado of little butterflies escapes from Lyneys hand. They fluttered around you in a tunnel-like pattern. 

Completely forgetting about the audience, you craned your hand up and stared in awe. Looking closely, some butterflies had little trails of violet shimmer. The butterflies themselves didn't seem to be real butterflies. On some you managed to see the wings to be made out of the back of playing cards. 

The butterflies dispersed out onto the crowd, until each one vanished without a trace. 

“Now then, are you feeling better?” Lyney asked, both hands on his hips.

You nodded with a smile on your face. The small pit of nervousness was now reduced to a grain. 

“Wonderful! And, it seems as if you have magic in you yourself, what luck!” Lyney exclaimed. Lynette all the while silently side eyed her brother and his antics. 

“Now then if you may follow Lynette, she will guide you to this next trick or a trio.” he smiled. 

Lynette had raised a hand to you in order to take it. You complied and took her hand as she led you behind the curtain.

“ Are you okay? I know Lyney can be a bit over the top, but if at any point feeling bad, let us know.” Lynette spoke calmly to you.

“ I’m alright now. I just wasn't expecting to get picked.” You said honestly. 

Lynette nodded. “ It's like that for most who get chosen.” 

She guided you towards a little box which was decorated with a little four pointed gold star in the center. The box was relatively small, reaching from the ground to knee level

“ When they take the box you’ll have to stand on it. I’ll stand in my own box next to you. Just follow Lyney’s instructions.” She said, 

“Also, brace your feet after the curtain falls.” 

You listened closely and nodded.

“Alright. Got it.” 

Lynette hummed.

 Behind the big red curtain you heard the crowd laugh and clap. 

“And now for the anticipated trick, shall I have my two assistants step back into the light?” 

Lynette and you came back onto the stage. Again in the limelight, you noticed the two boxes parallel to each other. 

“ For this next trick, both my assistants shall switch their places before your very eyes.” Lyney spoke calmly.

“But wait a moment. This is a simple trick one could accomplish by simply walking across the stage to the other boxes. This trick is sounding more like a runway show than magic.” Lyney sighed in defeat. In a quick one eighty mood switch, Lyney perked up and raised his chin high.

“ But no, dear spectators in the crowd. This trick shall be done with neither of my assistants leaving the confines of their one by one area!” Lyney exclaimed, flapping his little side cape in the process. 

Lynette turned and gave you a look, a very specific look. You took it to get on the box and you walked over to the one closest to you. 

“ Now then, a little tent shall fall on top of both of them. Switching places without jumping, walking or running is a lot more exhausting than it sounds.” As soon as he said that, above you began to descend a festive red tent. 

It slowly descended until the dark velvet of the inside tent obscure your vision of the crowd and them of yourself. You could only hear the echoing voice of Lyney as the crowd was now fully silenced in anticipation. 

The words of Lynette rang in your mind, as you looked down to your feet.

“ For you see, the most can happen within the blink of an eye.”

You felt the box underneath you dip slightly. Barely enough time to even gasp, you had fallen through the solid box beneath you. Quickly you bent your knees and positioned yourself to be able to absorb the momentum of your fall. 

Once landing soundly, you looked up to see how you had fallen. In the ceiling was a rectangular indentation of a trapdoor.

You heard a ‘psst’ to your right. There you say Lynette making a quick hand gesture to switch places; motioning to you and the spot beneath her feet. 

Speeding over to her, you took little but key notice in your new surroundings. The walls were barren, the air had slight dust, and light from the stage lights barely made it through the miniature nooks and crannies of the floorboards. You were underground. 

Once getting to where lynette last stood, you waited. Looking around where you stood there was a small ladder behind you. 

Suddenly a similar trap door like the one where you initially stood, swung open. 

Taking this as a new signal, you climbed onto the ladder trying to make as little noise as you could. Once above ground, the trap door that was once open shut, making the ground below you stable enough to stand on.

 “ As such, a walk across this stage could be reduced down to none!”

You heard a harsh step down onto the floor followed by a snap of a finger. 

The tent around you was pulled back up at lighting speed leaving you stunned in place. The crowd ahead was looking back and forth between the place where you once were and to where you are now. A roar of whistles and claps was heard. 

Looking to where you once were, stood Lynette waving at the crowd. The same stoic expression on her face. 

Lyney came skipping up to your side. 

“ How are you feeling dear [Name]? I hope you aren't too disoriented by the little trip you took.”

You looked at him, he had a proud grin on his face. The light shown down was overshadowed by the brim of his top hat. And yet, his eyes and distinguishable teardrop mark on his right cheek made you feel all sorts of flustered all over again.

Then again you noticed just how packed the Opera is. You had forgotten momentarily that there was an audience. The showers of cheers came down like a bolt of lightning striking the still water. 

“I’m fine, just a bit perplexed.” You shook your head trying to process what had just happened in what felt like a fraction of a minute.  

“ Oh my, it seems you may have been slightly shaken when vanishing from one spot to the other.” He hummed. 

“ That's it! I shall make it up to you! But I’ll have to get you back to your original box.” He said tapping his curled up hand onto his open palm. 

He stood up onto the tips of his toes, as from your height atop the box managed to put you at a larger distance from him. Figuring he might tell you something , you leaned down slightly.

“ When the tent drops on you once more, close your eyes. Don’t open them until you hear me say, Hat. Trust me, I’m sure this trick will put a blinding smile on your face.” He said quietly, a hand placed by his mouth blocking it from the audience ahead.

You weren’t sure what he meant or what would happen but somehow, you trusted him. Maybe it was his pretty face, charming personality, or simply because a famous and professional performer. 

A little breathy chuckle escaped him before he leaned away and waltzed back to the front and center. Something about him smiling and laughing made your heart almost pop.

You internally battled these pestering thoughts; You were just starstruck! A celebrity crush, don’t let it get to you. Especially in front of a massive crowd watching your every move! 

You took some short breaths in and faced ahead onto the wall behind the audience. You didn’t want to let this confusing feeling consume you.

“And now, one final trick before our amazing temporary assistant bids adieu.” He sighed. From his chest he pulled out a white handkerchief he blew into. The crowd laughed at his little mopping gag.

“ It was a pleasure to have you on stage with us, [Name].” He said before swiping the used hanky away. It disappeared into red and white sparks into the air. 

The tent above you descended once again, and the moment you found yourself in the shaded confines you closed your eyes. You could only listen to what was happening around you.

“Now then, why don’t we send our new friend off with a grand finale?”

The surrounding noise of the crowd murmuring came through as buzzing. You felt the ground once more give out underneath you. Holding in your breath you prepared for what may have come next. 

Something, or someone caught you. You felt the sudden mass underneath you, and suddenly there was a small breeze passing into your face. Your eyes squeezed shut the entire time. 

Suddenly, you felt your feet touch a solid floor. You stood up, the person letting you go as you stabilized yourself. 

“ And so, they shall appear where they once were at the drop of a hat!” 

You heard it. Cracking open one eye you see once again a velvet curtain of a tent. Blinking, adjusting to the light, the tent was pulled up.

This time there was some cheer for a few seconds. The sudden Huhs? And murmurs slowly began to take a hold of the audience. Curious as to the mood shift you look around you. 

Lyney, no longer wearing his signature tophat that had been left sitting on the floor. 

Where Lynette was supposed to be, she was no more. Instead, there was a small top hat lying top down on the box. 

Lyney, surprised, went over to the hat. 

“Lynette? Oh Lyneeette? Where did you vanish off to?” He took the hat and looked inside of it, as if his sister were inside the hat. 

You were slightly puzzled at first. Where on Teyvat could she have gone? Your doubts were suddenly clouded by an obvious truth.

This had to be part of the show. 

So you kept your eyes on the male twin, anticipating what he will do next.

Giving up in calling out to his sister, still holding onto the small hat in his hands, he walked over to where you stood. 

“ It seems that she won’t show herself unless we make her appear out of this hat. [Name], if you would.” He then extended the small hat in my direction. 

You delicately grabbed the brim area closest to you. Lyney let go, and you looked inside the empty hat. The material felt slightly heavy but the intricate seamless pattern woven into the pitch black fabric made you closely look at it.

You heard a small tapping noise, you looked back to the magician as he tapped the back of his hand. Putting two and two together, you quickly flip the hat upright. 

You mimicked Lyney’s motion on the hat’s top about three times. 

The first tap, colorful feathers floated to the ground.

The second tap, petals of flowers twirled on their way down.

The final tap, a deck of prop cards spilt out and crashing against the stage floor with clicks and claps.

“Looks like she isn’t in there.” Lyney quipped. You were once again thrown into utter confusion. The comedic way the crowd gasped after one object came after another object from the empty hat. At some point the reactions of surprise slowly turned into snickers and giggles of amusement. 

Lyney placed a hand on his hip and scratched his chin. “ Try doing it again with the hat upside down. Maybe, a different approach will convince her to come out.” 

So, you turn the hat over. Sneakily taking a small peak inside, and as you suspected it was empty. 

How does he pull these things off? Seriously! How?!?

Replicating your previous action, you tapped the brim. 

A small puff of smoke and confetti made you step back. Out of the hat a cat sprung!

Or was it a cat?

It was a big cat face attached to a coiled spring.

It was cute! It had the signature toothy grin the show’s mascot had, yet it had it turned upside down in a frowny face. One eye has a teal star and the other has a teal teardrop. It even had a little bowtie making it a very fashionable cat creature.

It turned to face you as its ears twitched. You’re eyes locked with its own strange one and you found yourself in a staring contest….with the giant cat head on a spring of all things.

“ Oh dear, it looks like Bogglecat seemed to have answered instead of Lynette” Lyney laughed. 

Tip Tap Tip Tap 

You and Lyney turned to face Lyney’s hat that had just shook slightly on the floor. 

Poof!

The hat had blasted up into the air and below the hat there was Lynette. Slightly obscured by the turquoise colored fog. 

“ Here I am.” Lynette spoked up.

Grabbing the brim of Lyney’s hat she tipped it and bowed before the audience. The audience clapped and some people even stood up from their seats. 

The Bogglecat in the hat leaped from your hands and jumped over towards the spotlight where Lynette was. Lyney came running over to you and carefully grabbed your now free hand.

“ C’mon, the audience is waiting for the final bows.” He hushed at you with that permanently charming smile of his. His pale blonde hair bounced along as he urged you to join him and his sister. With no reason to refuse, you ran along with him. You felt the corner of your mouth curl up in a giddy smile. Now unafraid of the public you stood in the bright lights with your chest held high.

Lynette tossed Lyney’s hat into the air, landing it perfectly on Lyney’s head. The cat in the hat jumped right into Lynette's hand. Once she caught it, she twirled it around in her hand like a skilled juggler. The cat suddenly vanished inside the hat, and the small hat now was held against her head.

“ This has been Lyney and Lynette’s Magic show! Thank You all for watching!” The three of you held hands; Lyney at the center, Lynette to his right, and you to his left. Lifting your hands up, you three did a dramatic bow. This audience applauded one final time for the performance. It was the loudest applause you had heard during your time in the Opera Epiclese.

Slowly people had started to leave the theater, with the front entrance reopened many people had started to trickle out into the lobby. This left fewer and fewer people in the main room, the Opera house becoming 

You were preparing to step down the stage staircase until you heard someone call out to you.

“ Wait, [Name]! If you could spare a moment?” It was a voice you had quickly grown familiar with. 

The top hat with the plum colored ribbon, the pale blonde tuffet that covered just above his right eye, and that teardrop marking beneath the same right eye. Lyney came speedily towards you, his sister Lynette following a bit behind. Unlike him, she calmly walked over and that stoic expression on her face felt a bit more done than what you had seen. 

“Hm? What is it Mister Lyney?” You stopped and asked politely. Looking over the male twin you glanced at his sister “Miss Lynette?” 

“That was a splendid performance you made on stage! You went along just swimmingly with our act.” Lyney gushed. 

Once again you felt flustered. Out of all things, a professional magician complimenting you on a magic trick? You scratched your cheek. 

“ I was just following you guys. Really, if anyone should be taking compliments it is you two!” You spoke with enthusiasm.  “ The way Miss Lynette pulled out the items right off the cards, or when you made my ‘ stomach butterflies ‘ disappear. It really was a treat to see!” You felt your face getting a bit warmer as you continued to spill your excitement into words.

“ This will definitely be a nice memory I won't be forgetting any time soon!” 

Lyney chuckled and even Lynette’s eyes grew slightly larger with interest. 

“ You’re too kind!” Lyney chuckled, his pale face getting the slightest bit pink in the cheeks. “  I don’t believe I’ve seen your face in our crowd before. Are you maybe a tourist coming from a distance to see our show?” 

You nodded. “ I am as a matter of fact. I don’t get out much to say the least.” You confessed. 

“ I’ve heard about your magic show for some time now, traveling groups have brought it up time and time again. Fontaine was my next destination so I took the opportunity to come see it myself.”

You smiled gently. “ This was my first legitimate magical performance I had the fortune of attending. Not to mention getting randomly selected to participate! Thank you for the fun time, Mister Lyney and Miss Lynette.” 

Lyney and Lynette listened with great interest.

“ I see. Thus, making this show a memorable experience for you was all the more rewarding then.” Lyney took off his hat and brought it to his chest. 

“We are both happy to have put a beautiful smile on your lovely face!~” Lyney very gently lifted your hand. Bringing it close to his face, he placed a small almost ghostly peck. 

Okay. Now you definitely felt your face may have caught on fire. 

Lyney might have noticed your sudden flustered face. The sneaky magician sent a very brief wink with a smile. Not just any smile. This smile had a more feline nature to it; as if he enjoyed seeing such a reaction from you. 

 He lowered your hand back down, and flipped his hat back onto his head. That cat-like smirk was nowhere to be seen anymore. Innocently smiling at you, he laughed. It sounded slightly nervous. 

“ Well, if you will be around Fonaine for a while longer, find us by the Aquabus station. We might just have spare time to show you around!” 

Slipping your hand behind your back, you tried to reply to his friendly invitation.

“ Mhm! Aquabus station. Go it!” you spoke in broken segments. 

Oh dear, maybe it's time you’d step outside for some fresh air.

“ I think I should get going now. Who knows how long the people traffic is in the lobby now. It was great meeting you. Your cat mascots are cute and now I shall leave” You had begun to word vomit as you were shuffling away.

 “ Bye bye!” 

Facing away from the magic duo, you speed walk down onto the carpeted floor. Not daring to look back, you heard the sound of an amused giggle and an exasperated sigh.

“ Are you proud of yourself? You almost made them faint with your antics.” Lynette tipped the back of Lyney’s hat. It fell forward and off but he had quickly caught it before it hit the ground.

“ Hey, I just wanted to make evening a little more magical is all. It was the most I can do from withholding them back from leaving" 

"Right. And you had to tease them until they were red in the face."

Lyney stared at his sister for a moment, until he thought.

He felt a small hitch of embarrassment in his chest realizing something.

"I- Uh, didn't go to far with the card letter, right?" He nervously asked.

Lynette sighed and shook her head.

"Brother, most of the time you don't even need the spotlight to be over dramatic."

Once you were outside and looking up at the sky. The skies were different in every spot you had been. Here in Fontaine, you could barely see the twinkling stars. 

As you sighed contently, you made your way over to the hotel you had planned to stay in for the time. As you shifted you felt something shift alongside you in your sleeve. It was cold and smooth.

Surprised, you dug into your sleeve.

It was a playing card. A prop playing card. 

“ I hope you had a magical Evening, [Name]. Meet me by the bench near the potted flowers by the station at noon tomorrow. If you show up, best prepare for I still have tricks up my sleeve that will leave you dazzled! “ 

There was a little doodle of a toothy grinning cat.

A/N: Should I make a part two? Idk maybe. EDIT: PART TWO HERE

[themovieblogonline]

Back on the Strip Review: A Disjointed and Uninspired Misstep

Chris Spencer's Back on the Strip sets out on a premise that could have been a unique exploration of ambition, identity, and self-discovery. Unfortunately, the film falls far short of its potential. The result is a disjointed and uninspired narrative that struggles to find its footing. With a cast boasting Wesley Snipes, Tiffany Haddish, and JB Smoove, you would expect a fun time at the movies. Back on The Strip disappoints on multiple fronts. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hcadt1cCbNo The central plot follows Merlin (Spence Moore II), a young aspiring magician who relocates to Las Vegas with dreams of making it big. The premise sounds intriguing enough, but the execution leaves much to be desired. The film takes a baffling turn when Merlin gets entangled with "The Chocolate Chips," a group of black male strippers. This abrupt shift in focus marks the beginning of the movie's downfall. The attempt to merge the worlds of magic and male stripping comes off as forced and awkward. The combination end up detracting from any meaningful exploration of Merlin's character or his pursuit of fame. The Bad: Spence Moore II's portrayal of Merlin is hindered by a lack of character development. It's also hindered by a script that fails to delve into his motivations and struggles. Merlin's journey from a budding magician to a reluctant stripper lacks the emotional depth needed to resonate with the audience. Moore's performance, while not entirely lackluster, is hampered by the limitations of the material he's working with. The character's decisions often defy logic, and his transformation feels rushed and unrealistic. Wesley Snipes, as Luther "Mr. Big," brings a sense of charisma to the screen, but even his seasoned acting chops can't salvage the poorly-written character. Luther is the stereotypical smooth-talking strip club owner with a heart of gold, a trope that feels dated and clichéd. Snipes deserved better material to sink his teeth into, as his presence is one of the few bright spots in an otherwise lackluster film. Tiffany Haddish's Verna is relegated to a one-dimensional love interest role. Haddish's comedic talents are wasted on a character that lacks agency and depth. The chemistry between Verna and Merlin feels forced, and their interactions do little to advance the narrative. The inclusion of JB Smoove as Amos is an honest attempt to inject humor into the film. THe problem is that Smoove's comedic moments often fall flat due to the lack of a coherent tone. The film struggles to find the right balance between comedy and drama, resulting in jarring shifts that disrupt the overall flow. Smoove's performance, while spirited, can't salvage the poorly executed comedic elements that pepper the screenplay. Gary Owen's Xander adds another layer of eccentricity to the mix, but his character's purpose remains unclear throughout the film. Owen's comedic talents are evident, but his scenes feel disconnected from the main plot and fail to contribute meaningfully to the story's progression. The film's pacing is erratic, with scenes dragging on unnecessarily while pivotal moments feel rushed. Overall the movie's narrative lacks a cohesive structure. This makes it difficult for the audience to engage with the characters or invest in their journeys. The attempt to juxtapose the world of magic with male stripping is a creative misstep that only serves to muddy the waters further. Furthermore, the film's attempts at social commentary regarding black identity fall flat due to the lack of nuance and depth in the exploration of these themes. These potential avenues for meaningful exploration are glossed over in favor of awkward humor and contrived plot developments. Chris Spencer's vision struggles to translate to the screen effectively in terms of direction. The film lacks a distinct visual style, and the directorial choices often feel uninspired. Scenes that could have been visually captivating are shot in a pedestrian manner, diminishing their impact. The Good: Easily my favorite aspect about this whole movie is that it was pretty obvious that the cast had a ton of fun making this. Even though it wasn't an enjoyable film for me to sit down and watch, it was quite nice to see this cast come together and have the time of their lives making a movie that they were proud of. There are worse comedies out there than this one for sure. Overall: Back on the Strip is a disappointing endeavor that fails to capitalize on its intriguing premise and talented cast. The lack of character development, disjointed narrative, and tonal inconsistencies hinder any potential for emotional resonance or thought-provoking commentary. While the cast members bring their best efforts to the table, they are let down by a lackluster script and direction that fails to elevate the material. This film is a missed opportunity that ultimately leaves both its characters and audience unsatisfied. Read the full article

[hanyusan]

Hi, I would like to ask you about Yuzu’s scores, is it true that they judge him unfairly? And since when it started being like that? Also does it have anything to do with Nathan Chen?

Thank you:)

This question is as loaded as a trebuchet :) But hopefully I can provide some answers.

I don’t plan on going into a ton of detail because this topic has been analyzed so many times that it’s almost like beating a dead horse’s grave. Also, gonna be honest, I do my best to not analyze scoring at all – the anger from Yuna Kim being robbed in Sochi is still fresh, and I have zero faith that the situation will ever get better.

But short answer to your first question is yes.

Longer answer is yes: judging corruption in recent years has escalated across the board, and Yuzu is one of many victims. Scoring in the women’s field is equally, if not more infuriating (not to mention the surplus of other major issues that that discipline is suffering; keeping the women’s fans in my thoughts). As much as we can speculate, there’s a lot of politics involved behind judging that go beyond our understanding. Hence why skaters belonging to big-name federations like those of Russia and the U.S. are consistently overscored, whereas other skaters are scored much more strictly and/or underscored.

People have been saying that Yuzu has been underscored for a very long time, but the protests definitely got louder and more frequent once Nathan started receiving similar and eventually higher scores for performing programs that came off as lackluster in comparison to Yuzu’s. This is aside from jumps, as I hope we can agree that Nathan’s technical skills in that field are top-class. But his components are scored as if they’re on the same level as Yuzu’s. [insert long-winded explanation about how they’re not, which I’m not going to write out because if people can’t see the differences with their own two eyeballs, nothing I say will convince them otherwise]

The reason Nathan’s scoring should raise question marks is not, as some people will say, because his style is not “elegant.” I don’t think that any skater should be forced into a box of skating to classical music or donning glittery costumes (though, the costume part would be nice; no one will ever convince me that those costumes of his are fashionable). But having a different style doesn’t mean that he should be held to different (read: lower) standards, yet that is a luxury he has continuously enjoyed. He and the women’s discipline are both representative of how the sport is not prizing artistry as much as it claims to. Personally, that’s what bothers me the most – if the sport no longer cares about anything other then jumps, then it shouldn’t pretend to value something that clearly has fallen out of favor. Lying is far more anger-inducing than having a bad take.

To say that any of this “has to do with Nathan” would be misleading. Most seasoned figure skating fans will correctly tell you that the problem lies with the system in place, not with the skaters involved. But Nathan has become the perfect scapegoat for the judges: a lot of outspoken netizens point fingers at him when Yuzu does not win gold in a competition where both of them are present. It has gotten to a point where I’m convinced they make it a point to talk about how much they respect one another to mitigate the amount of hate going on. (Fun fact, I pretty much quit going on Weibo because the vitriol there is far more toxic than Twitter...didn’t know that was even possible. But that’d probably take too long to talk about in this ask.)

Nathan is an easy target, especially due to his more “modern” style, which borders on sacrilegious for some figure skating fans. It’s turned into one of those situations where disliking one thing about someone leads to a twisted “justification” for scorning their whole person. But is Nathan to blame for (supposedly) transforming the sport into a jumping competition, or are the judges, for rewarding him and pushing him to continue doing so? We all know the answer.

In other words, Nathan’s scores being inflated and Yuzu’s scores being depressed are correlated through unfair judging, but neither causes the other. We just have to take the judges out back for a stern talking to.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

dandelions

request: if you vibe with it Spencer X Reader lowkey songfic for Dandelions by Ruth B. Spencer is recovering from Cat traumatizing him and the Reader is a baby tech analyst for the BAU. The Reader learns Spencer believes that he’ll never find true love, and so the Reader pretty much corners him in the techy bat cave and makes him dance with her (to the song). Ends with a semi established relationship and Reader let’s Spencer know she’ll love him when he’s ready. :) ❤️

so before we embark on this story, I just want to let you all know that i’m only up to season 4 of CM, but because of tik tok, i know most of the spoilers already, but i’ll try my absolute best

word count: 2,167                                                                                     reading time aprox: 8 mins

masterlist

It was a leisurely night at the BAU, the usual fleeting agents that roamed around the bullpen causing an uproar of commotion was replaced by a serene environment that was inhibited by a few individuals. It was around the time of the holidays meaning most of the agents had either went home to their loved ones or went to the bars to their loved ones, also known as 5-6 vodka shots with a beer on the side. 

The lights began to dim at the office indicating it was close to midnight. My eyes had accustomed to the sudden change of brightness due to the simple fact that Penelope’s office was just a technically advanced bat cave littered with eclectic trinkets from thrift shops. 

I could remember stepping into Penelope’s office expecting an immaculate high tech lair, only to discover a physical representation of Pen’s psyche splattered in all the crevices of the dark room. Apprenticing for Garcia had been the best decision I’ve made considering that my original disposition was to work in counter terrorism where there wasn’t an unorthodox and silly tech goddess. Not only that, but the BAU team had become more than family to me, taking into account that my biological family had abandoned me when I was young. 

I grew up with a developed resentment against love knowing that people will always abandon you in the end. Despite my childhood, ever since I’ve joined the team, all that contempt dissipated transforming into nothing but genuine love for the people around me.

And sometimes I held a little bit of extra love for definitive individuals. 

I was closing up a few files on Pen’s computer, rewriting the encryptions on her documents to secure her confidentiality when I peered out into the bullpen, a forlorn and solitary silhouette crouched into a seat came to view. The chair swaying side to side in combination with the lackluster lights made it particularly burdensome to identify the figure. The bullpen had emptied out, leaving the creature to it’s lonesome, adding to the ambiguity of the atmosphere. 

It was only when JJ approached the cryptic individual that it had clicked in my head. Spencer’s hair popped into view as JJ adjusted his desk lamp to give off more light. She had her bag and jacket hanging on her left arm signaling her departure from the office. She conversed with Spencer offering him a cup of coffee which he politely declined with a tight lipped smile. With this response, she patted his shoulder motherly and made her way to bureau’s glass doors. 

The sounds of the rubber stopper hitting the frame of the door indicated that JJ had completely left, leaving the bullpen with the inhabitants of me and Spencer. Although I don’t think he’s acknowledged my occupancy in Pen’s office as he let out a disgruntled sigh, dragging his hands over his perturbed visage. 

In the attempt to leave him to his aloofness, I resorted back to my tasks at hand on Pen’s computer, yet an almost incoherent sniffle echoed throughout the office, catching my ears off-guard. 

I reverted my attention to Spencer once again, watching him pull at his hair while briskly wiping away the dampness that had formed on his face. 

I felt a hefty tug at my heartstrings, feeling as if my chest cavity began to collapse in on it’s self. My esophagus congealed to the sounds of anguish that emitted past Spencer’s lips, feeling destitute as the boy became his own source of self reproach. 

My thoughts fought each other for the custody of my actions, contesting the ideas of soothing the boy or leaving him to his own. It was quite a delicate matter to approach considering the topics that had led him to spiral. 

Spencer Reid had only cared about one thing in the world: his mother and with the recent allegations with Cat Adams resurfacing, he’s been nothing but a ball of disquietude. His intelligence was the only wall that he’d build around himself that protected his unconscious mind from blemishing the utopian reality he had constructed in his conscious mind. It had been the barrier between his internal chaos and serendipity. 

Who knew one woman would be able to decimate the very thing he fabricated since his youth. 

After a few revelations, I became determined to release Spencer of the abhorrent thoughts his mind must of been swarmed in. Messing with bureau’s network, I connected to speakers that were planted in the bullpen that were utilized for broadcasts. 

I leaned over Penelope’s set up, grabbing the mic she hid behind her monitors and connected it wirelessly to the speaker. This ended up emitting a loud echo of feedback that resonated throughout the office, hence catching Spencer’s attention to the ceiling. He looked bewildered at the sudden blare, but settled down as the sound of my voice flooded the room. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid, please report to your nearest tech analyst. Again, Dr. Spencer Reid please report to your tech analyst” I announced, earning a wholesome smile from Spencer as he directed his attention to the office. He waved at me through the open door, chuckling while he stood up to press the wrinkles that had formed on his blazer. 

My heart swelled, growing exponentially vast as his demeanor changed to a more merry disposition. I could already feel the apprehensive twinges begin to appear at my wrists and the ever-growing grin plant itself on my lips. 

Once he arrived at the door frame, he let out an inaudible welcome as I grabbed an extra office chair for him to sit on.

“Long day?” I inquired, reclaiming my spot in my own chair. He leaned back on the spine of the seat, letting out a reluctant chuckle that held more gravity than he wanted to reveal. 

“You have no idea” He replied with a frigid smile. He fidgeted with the tips of his fingers while he gazed at the floor below him. 

“I was 14″ I stated, earning an inquisitive reaction from Spencer. “I was 14 when I decided to reject any form of aid, affection, or remorse from anyone who even came close to knowing me” I admitted, watching his face contort into vulnerability as if my words hit a weak spot in his barricade. “I told myself of the cold reality of the world and that no amount of consolation or love would change that”. I pulled my seat closer to Spencer, making our interaction a bit more intimate and fervent. “That wasn’t until I met you-” I confessed, now acquiring his full undivided regard. “-an-and the team. You guys proved me wrong and convinced me otherwise of my radical theories” I continued. 

I searched for empathy in his eyes, but was met with a distant and doleful gaze while he sucked in his lips as it began to quiver. He took in a sharp breath, maintaining a adamant composure. 

“Spencer, I know it’s been difficult and I’m sorry I can never understand the hardships you must be going through. But, I need you to realize that there are so many people who consider you one of the best parts of their lives” I professed, laying a tender palm on his knee. “That’s including me, you’ve been nothing but the best little genius I’ve had the privilege to be around, even with your constant rambling”. We both laughed at this statement, meeting each other’s gazes as if we were studying each other. “You need to let us in once and while. I don’t like seeing you get down on yourself for things that are normal to feel”

Spencer laid a warm hand on top of my own, squeezing it in acknowledgment before laying his head low once again. “I-i don’t think” He began, pausing in between his phrases to find the right words to articulate. “I don’t think I can ever find true love” He confided, running his fingers through the tangled bits of hair. “After Maeve, Cat, and now my mom, it seems like everything I ever try to love gets ripped out of my hands” He explained. 

With an idea in mind, I scooted away from him and to the computer that was still connected to the bureau’s sound system. I logged onto my Spotify account and began to play Dandelions by Ruth B. The mellow melody streamed throughout the entire room, engulfing the both of us in the beginning verse of the song. 

Maybe it's the way you say my name Maybe it's the way you play your game But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you

“How about I get your mind off of it for a little while?” I offered, laying my hand out for him to grab. 

“No, no Y/N. I’m not much of a dancer” He dismissed, shaking his head. 

“Come on now doctor” I giggled, pulling at his fingers to join me. “You may not have a PhD in dance, but I’m pretty sure you can calculate the terminal velocity of how you drop that ass” I joked, intertwining our hands as he finally conceded to my antics. 

“Oh god Y/N, I’ll dance with you if you never say that again” He placed a supple hand on the indents of my waist while he centered his feet to match mine. 

After configuring himself, he looked down at me, really emphasizing the height difference between us. “Now was that so bad?” I teased, a toothy grin making it’s appearance on my face. The warmth that was radiating from the both of us made the small gesture more visceral, sending an irrefutable sensation of yearning throughout my entire body. 

Hopefully, it elicited the same feeling for him 

He took the lead, swaying us side to side while the chorus of the song saturated our eardrums, repositioning his hand to the small of my back. He exhaled a cumbersome sigh, lulling himself into my embrace.

Cause I'm in a field of dandelions Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine And I see forever in your eyes I feel okay when I see you smile, smile

I felt every tap, fidget, or movement Spencer made on the soft skin of my spine to match the rhythm of the melody. My head found asylum in the crevice of his shoulder, letting my hair fall into place as we slow danced. At this moment, I felt reality shift around me at a turtle’s pace, time seemed to have completely marooned, and all I could fixate on was the shallow breaths Spencer would take. 

“Thank you...Y/N, it really does mean a lot” Spencer attested, making me raise my head to meet his hazel eyes. Looking into them was like swimming in a pool of milk and honey while the sunshine eradicated all the bad in the world. “I know I’m not one open up about things like this, but you’re right and you reminded me of that, so thank you” He placed a loving kiss on my forehead, lingering momentarily before retracting. 

“Spencer?” I spoke up

“Yes?”

“I know that you think that love may not be possible for you, but you’re forgetting that Rossi looks at you as if you were his own son, JJ basically thinks of you as her own brother, and I love you too”. I pushed a stray curl that fell in front of him face, caressing his cheek in the process of placing the hair back to where it belongs. “Just like energy, love can’t be destroyed, just transformed” I quoted, settling my hands behind his neck. 

“And you?” 

I hummed in inquisitiveness.

“What do you consider me as?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, beckoning him to continue as I was unable to fully comprehend what he was getting at. 

“You said Rossi thought of me as a son, JJ as a brother. So what do you consider me as?” He pressed, pulling me closer to his chest. 

I could practically feel his breath fanning over my face while a tinted blush blossomed on the apple of my cheeks. “I think that’s another conversation for another dance. Don’t you think?” I suggested in attempt to stray away from his prying. 

“So you’re going to pull me into another dance?” He grinned. 

“Possibly, if you’re up for it of course”

He shook his head chuckling, gently pushing me out, twirling me as he did before letting me rest on his chest. Silence drowned out the room as the song finally came to an end, yet we still stood in each other’s embrace to prolong the occasion 

“Spence, I know that you need time. But just know when you are ready, that I’ll be here for you” I confessed, looking directly in his eyes. 

“I’ll be here ready to love you whenever you’re ready to love yourself first”

I'm in a field of dandelions Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

[royivia]

The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

#

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

#

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

#

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

##

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

#

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

#

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

#

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

#

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

#

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

[livesincerely]

it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 2 (END)

Also on Ao3. Chapter 1 here.

00000

“Jack is such a dumbass.”

Davey blinks his way out of his stupor. Tony is staring towards where Jack disappeared out the front door, his expression a mix of exasperation, annoyance, and sheer bafflement.

“Like, I forget sometimes, but he’s actually just a complete fucking moron, isn’t he?” Tony says. “I can’t believe he’s what counts as responsible adult supervision.”

Charlie heaves a massive sigh, shoving his math textbook to the side. “Yeah, that wasn’t his best moment.”

“Not his best moment?” Tony asks, incredulous. “How many years has it been at this point? Seven? Eight?”

“Eight,” Charlie gloomily confirms, shaking his head.

“Eight years we’ve been tryin’ to convince him to pull his head outta his ass and make a move and this is the shit he pulls? Really? He’s lucky that Davey’s basically a sure thing because Jesus Christ—“

Davey’s never been so confused in his entire life. Tony gears up into a full-on rant, splotches of red creeping further and further across his face with each word; Charlie clearly commiserates, chiming in with his own grievances every now and then.

And Davey’s listening, he’s doing his best to follow along, but he must not be understanding correctly. He can’t be. Because it sounds like Tony is implying that Jack…

“—I mean, he’s been in love with him for ages, so he musta had a plan, right? Some sorta idea, even if he’s too chicken shit to do anything with it? Well, I guess somethin’s better than nothin,’ but come on, you’d think he could do better than plantin’ one on Davey by accident—“

Davey’s heart does a series of pirouettes around his chest. He croaks out, “Wait, what?”

“I said, Jack shoulda done better than kissing you, then takin’ off—“

“No, I mean—“ Davey pauses, swallowing around a sudden dryness in his throat. “Go back to the part where you said Jack’s in love with me.”

“Uh, okay, what about it?” Tony says, brow furrowed—like he doesn’t understand what Davey’s getting at.

Davey stares at him. “Jack isn’t in love with me.”

Tony and Charlie exchange a loaded glance.

“Yes, he is, Davey,” Charlie says cautiously. Davey thinks he’d be more irritated with the gentle handling if it weren’t for the fact that his world is tilting off its axis.

“Jack isn’t in love with me,” Davey repeats. The words feel numb as they leave his lips, but he says them anyway. To think otherwise seems unfathomable. “Jack isn’t— Jack can’t be in love with me. I’d know if he was.”

“Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t ya?” Tony mutters.

“No, he is,” Charlie insists. “He’s, like, ridiculously in love with you.”

Davey doesn’t know where to even begin processing that statement. He leans back heavily in his chair and a small, distant part of his brain is grateful that he’s already sitting down, as this revelation would have sent him to the floor. The larger part of his brain is screaming.

“What makes you so sure?” he eventually asks, once he finds the words.

Tony throws him a look. “I have functional fucking eyes.”

“We’re sure, Davey,” Charlie cuts in patiently. “We are absolutely, definitely sure.”

The possibility rattles around Davey’s mind, then starts to take a more solid form. Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“He never said anything,” Davey says.

“Yeah, no shit. If it was up to him he woulda taken that one to his grave,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “But you don’t really need him to say anything—you can just tell.”

“I can’t tell!” Davey disagrees, the tone of his voice edging towards shrill.

“But that’s just you,” Charlie says, like that explanation makes any kind of sense. “Trust us, it’s really obvious to everyone else. Like, painfully obvious.”

“You do realize that the two of you have basically been married for years, right?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows. “You’re, like, disgustingly domestic and you flirt with each other all the time. Like, all the time.”

Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“Please get together already,” Charlie pleads. “I can’t take it anymore, and obviously Jack can’t be trusted to make good decisions—” Here he and Tony exchange a commiserating look; Davey can only imagine what they’ve been privy to when he isn't around. “—so it’s gonna hafta be you.”

“What do I do?” Davey asks, completely overwhelmed. “I mean, he ran away! Should I go after him?”

“What, are you gonna chase him down in the rain?” Tony says with a snort. “Just talk to him when he gets back.”

“Give him a chance to calm down,” Charlie advises. “And, uh, maybe you should calm down a bit too—you kinda look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Well, that was kind of a lot,” Davey retorts, but the words have no heat behind them.

“Besides, it’s not like Jack can hide from you forever,” Tony adds with a shrug. “You know where he sleeps.”

Davey can’t decided if he loves or hates how reassuring that is.

00000

The streams of sunlight that cut through the blinds wake Davey up the next morning. A glance at the clock tells him that it’s nearly nine; he’s surprised he slept through Charlie and Tony leaving for school, but after the emotional upheaval of last night, they must have made a point not to wake him.

He lays there for a long time, blinking up at the ceiling and watching the overhead fan spin in lazy circles. Jack had sent him a single text last night, warning him that his phone was about to die and he had to stay late at work; Davey had tried to wait up for him, but finally fell asleep a little after three am. There’s a flicker of worry at the thought of Jack—wondering if he was making up excuses to avoid him, wondering what to say when he sees him next—but the anxiety of last night has transformed into something hazy and distant.

Davey’s been in love with Jack for years; he’d long since resigned himself to living with that love quietly. The only thing that’s changed is there’s a possibility that Jack loves him back, so really, what’s there to worry about?

Eventually, he throws back the covers and hauls himself upright. He pulls a sweatshirt on over his pajamas, disregarding the way it makes his already tousled hair even more of a disaster, and shuffles slowly down the hall.

The growl of his stomach reminds him that it’s well past his usual breakfast time. Davey wanders into the kitchen and begins pulling supplies out of the cabinets by route, and before he knows it, he’s got the beginnings of a breakfast going.

Everything takes on a different aspect in the light of this new day—details that Davey’s always known, but has never been fully conscious of. The skillet he grabs is a hefty cast iron monstrosity that belonged to his Bubbie—it lives at Jack’s place because Davey’s dorm’s kitchen is the size of a shoebox and hasn’t been renovated in decades, and also because Davey’s never been in the habit of cooking for one.

The coffee maker is new: he and Jack had to get a new one last month after their old one finally crapped out. They’d spent the better part of an hour at the local Bed, Bath & Beyond, bickering back and forth about which one to get until a salesperson finally took pity on them and pointed them towards a sturdy model solidly in the middle of their price range. Davey grabs his favorite mug—a pale blue one with a chip on the handle from where Tony dropped it one time—and fills it with the first pour of a fresh brew. The coffee, of course, is from his favorite place around the corner, a blend that Jack always claims is too expensive, but keeps on buying for him.

It’s scattered all around him, the countless ways that his and Jack’s lives are intertwined. Davey almost can’t believe that it’s taken him this long to notice, but maybe that’s just it: this has been his normal for ages, so why would he notice it?

Davey hums softly to himself as he works, the quiet punctuated only by the buzz of the refrigerator and the hiss of the coffee maker, which is why it’s so surprising to glance up and notice Jack standing in the doorway, his expression a little pinched around the edges and still dressed in his clothes from yesterday, though noticeably rumpled.

“Jack!” Davey says, startled. “I didn’t hear you come in. When did you get— wait, did you spend the night at the office?”

Jack looks at him funny, like he was expecting Davey to say something else. “I missed the last subway and I didn't have money for a cab.”

“Maybe you should start keeping some things at work,” Davey says, frowning slightly. “Like, a pillow and a toothbrush and stuff like that. You’ve been having a lot of night shifts recently and that couch in your break room looks like it’s older than I am, so I know it can’t be comfortable to sleep on—“

“Are you making breakfast?” Jack interrupts, one hand braced against the doorframe. There’s something pointed about the question: accusing and disbelieving and conflicted all at the same time.

Davey looks at the assortment of ingredients gathered around him—milk, flour, butter, eggs, blueberries—then down at the bowl of pancake batter he’s in the middle of whisking. “Uh… yes?”

Jack barks out a laugh, but it’s tinged with a hint of hysteria. “I thought you’d be— But instead you’re— Why?”

“I always make breakfast on Fridays,” Davey says, because it’s true. He beckons Jack forward with a nod of his head. “Here, come help me with this, you’re better at flipping the pancakes than I am.”

Jack scrubs a hand over his mouth, then seems to rally himself.

“Okay,” he mutters, clearly not intending for Davey to hear him. “Okay… so it’s like that. Okay.” Then louder he says—with an incredibly lackluster attempt at his usual grin that wouldn’t fool anyone, let alone Davey—“Yeah, sure Dave, I gotcha.”

Davey lifts himself up to sit on the counter next to the stove while Jack steps up to the cooktop. He watches silently as Jack pours the batter into the skillet, nudging at the edges with his spatula until they start to firm up. It should be an easy, simple moment together—something they’ve done countless times before. Instead, the space between them is thick with unspoken tension.

Davey considers his options. He takes in the stiff line of Jack’s shoulders and remembers the look on Jack’s face yesterday—soft affection burnt away by panic. He waits for just the right moment, then says, “So, Tony and Charlie seem to think that you’re in love with me.”

The reaction is immediate. Jack jerks in surprise—a full-body flinch—and the pan slips out of his hands. It hits the burner with a clattering bang and the half-cooked batter goes flying halfway across the kitchen, then hits the floor with a splat.

“Yeah,” Davey comments mildly, taking in the mess with no small measure of satisfaction. “That’s about how I felt too.”

Jack makes a strangled noise: like he’s going to deny it, like he thinks he has to deny it, like it’s never occurred to him to do otherwise. And sure, Davey had never considered broaching the topic either, but Davey’s not the one that kissed and ran.

“No, don’t even start with that,” Davey begins before Jack can say anything. “You’re in love with me, I know you’re in love with me. The boys finally told me last night—apparently it’s obvious, but I never would’ve guessed if they hadn’t said something. And if you hadn’t kissed me.”

He gestures at the remnants of breakfast. “That’s for leaving me to freak out last night, by the way. Also, Tony told me to tell you that you’re the World’s Biggest Dumbass, and I can’t say I disagree with him.”

Jack’s eyes have gone very wide. An assortment of emotions flit across his face, but none remain long enough for Davey to identify them.

“Sorry about that,” Jack eventually says. The words come out slow and a little jagged, like he’s having trouble keeping his voice steady. “I shouldn’t have done that—I didn’t mean to kiss ya, it just kinda happened—but I understand if you’re mad at me or if ya need me to—“

“Oh my god,” Davey says, shaking his head even as a surge of affection rushes through him, “you really are a dumbass.” He jumps down off the counter and holds out a hand. “Jackie, come here.”

Jack stumbles forward, visibly unsure. Davey can’t imagine what he’s thinking is about to happen, can’t imagine how Jack can stand here with him in their kitchen in their home and not know that they’re in this together, just like they always are.

Davey threads their fingers together, tugging Jack those last few steps so that they’re standing chest to chest. He brings his other hand up to Jack’s face, dragging his fingers over his forehead until the furrow in Jack’s brow relaxes, until his expression begins to brighten with tentative hope, then down around the curve of his jaw to tilt Jack’s head that much closer to his own.

Jack moves easily, immediately, when Davey touches him—only the slight hitch in his breath indicates that this is unexplored territory—and it’s so simple for Davey to just lean up and kiss him.

Soft. Sweet. It feels brand new. It feels like they’ve done this hundreds of times.

“Just in case that wasn’t clear enough,” Davey murmurs as they part, impossibly happy and feeling like his heart might burst with it. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you.”

Jack’s answering smile seems to light him up from the inside out. “Oh yeah? Well, word on the street is, I’m in love with you too.”

[haberdashing]

Suddenly I’ve Got My Wings

TMA daemon AU; an examination of Jon’s relationship with his moth daemon.

on AO3

As a young child, long before his daemon Anjah was due to settle, Jon tended to go through phases where she would take on the same appearance for days, weeks, even months at a time.

The first such phase Jon could remember was Anjah as a seagull when he first moved to Bournemouth, after his mother’s death, when living by the sea with his grandmother was still new and exciting. That lasted for a good few months, but other such phases came and went throughout Jon’s childhood.

His daemon was a dragonfly, a platypus, a bearded lizard, a quokka, a poison dart frog... any animal that caught Jon’s attention, through interest in the animal species itself or through it being the daemon of a favorite historical figure or fictional character, was likely to be Anjah’s default shape for some time, usually for however long it took for him to find a new animal that interested him more. More than once, adults thought that Jon had settled early because his daemon had stayed in the same form for so long.

This wasn’t to say that Anjah never took forms out of convenience’s sake rather than to align herself with Jon’s current subject of fascination. If they needed to hide, Anjah would become something small and stealthy; if Jon needed protection, she would become something big and strong; if Jon was exploring, she would become something that could keep up with him. Still, though, she took such forms of opportunity significantly less so than the daemons of most children Jon’s age.

Most of these phases blended together in Jon’s mind over time, the individual animals and when he favored them becoming little more than a blur as years passed, but one that Jon always remembered no matter how old he grew was the week and a half spent when he was seven where Anjah was a brown recluse spider, because some Renaissance-era icon of his had had one as a daemon, and so Jon had wanted his to be the same.

After reading a certain book when he was eight years old, though, Anjah never took on a spider’s form again. Jon always wondered if his grandmother noticed, but he never asked and she never mentioned it.

Anjah still went through phases afterwards, but she did tend towards smaller, more unassuming forms from then on. Some might have found this counter-intuitive, might have thought Jon would prefer Anjah to take on a form that exuded strength and presence, but Jon knew better than to find comfort in such things. The boy who had been eaten in Jon’s place had had a hulking lioness as a daemon, a big muscular animal that always stuck by his side and bared her fangs at any who dared challenge them. It hadn’t saved him.

Jon was half-convinced that Anjah would settle after that particular incident--settling was often associated with significant formative experiences, and that one certainly fit the bill--but eight years old was exceptionally early for a child’s daemon to settle, and while young Jon was precocious in a number of ways, that apparently wasn’t one of them. It was four long years after that before Anjah actually settled, and it happened on an otherwise-unremarkable Saturday morning, with no clear impetus that Jon could figure out, try though he did after the fact.

Anjah settled as a moth, though she had been a wasp the night before. She was a Polyphemus moth specifically, Jon soon learned, Antheraea polyphemus. On the large side as far as moths go, brown with purple eyespots on her hindwings, rather pretty.

Jon dove into daemon analysis books shortly after settling, though he trusted the symbolism they imparted little more than he trusted the supposed meanings behind star signs. It was all the same vague sort of nonsense that could apply to anyone, he figured. Intelligence, fragility, determination, secrecy, transformation... sure, some of that applied to Jon clearly enough, but the same could likely be said for just about any animal species he came up with.

Jon figured if there was a meaning behind his daemon being a moth, it had less to do with all of that symbolic gobbledygook and more to do with the deep pit in his stomach that had settled there when Anjah herself had settled, no further explanation required.

After all, Jon knew well enough, even at that age, that spiders ate moths...

Anjah alternated between flitting around near Jon and hiding within his clothes, and when he’d gone in for his initial interview at the Magnus Institute she’d settled for the latter, so Jon wasn’t all that surprised when his interviewer, one Elias Bouchard, didn’t have a visible daemon either. Some smaller daemons preferred staying out of sight; Jon didn’t think it was anything more than that.

When Anjah darted out from within his suit jacket near the end of the interview, though, Elias grinned at the sight. At the time, that just confirmed Jon’s thoughts about Elias’ own daemon being hidden away as well, though even back then he’d wondered if something about Elias’ amusement with Anjah had helped clinch the interview for him, as he’d ended up getting the job despite an otherwise-lackluster interview and a CV with no mention of his only genuine experience with the supernatural.

Over time, after Jon became the head archivist of the Institute, became the Archivist, he realized that Elias’ daemon probably hadn’t simply been hiding on his person as he had initially assumed, and that any amusement he had gotten from Anjah’s appearance must thus be unrelated.

Was it the eyespots, then? Elias seeing a daemon with eye-like markings and thinking that the symbolism there was too perfect to pass up, that he had to make sure its owner ended up aligned with the Eye? Had Elias seen Jon as a future Archivist in the making even then, his connection to the Eye eventually becoming as apparent as the spots on Anjah’s back?

And had Anjah’s eyespots always looked quite so lifelike?

After the world ended, Jon finally got an answer to this last question.

After the world ended, Jon could tell that Anjah was as transformed as he was, that her eyespots were more eye than spot now, a tool of vision rather than of mere deception.

After the world ended, Jon looked at the eyespots on Anjah’s hind wings, and for the first time in his life, he saw them blink.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Character review!!(2/4):

Fix it!!;

Fix it is an adorable orange minicon who deserves so much? He's a blabbermouth with a bit of a vocabulary tick that kinda gets annoying, but on the whole, he's very cute. He helps the team both medically and technically, and as often as he's pushed around, the team wouldn't be the same without him. He also likes BIG boys and is so dtf if you're bigger than him. Given that Denny is bigger than him, it's not that hard to accomplish. 7/10. Would've been higher if they didn't make his character a bit repetitive. Still love him though.

Denny clay!!;

Father of Russell Clay, this dude owns the junkyard that the autobots reside in, and he's honestly just a cute, loving man. Tbh he's just a good character in terms of personality. like he's better than most bots on this show. 8/10, would smooch him. Literally I only added him here because I'm attracted to him, while simultaneously wanting him as my actual dad. Idk y'all i got issues.

Buzzstrike!!;

He was only around for a few episodes, but he's honestly one of my favorite minicons. He just seems like a charming, handsome boy. I didn't get much in terms of his personality, but I do get he's passive without being a pushover, he talks with his hands a lot, and he has just...such a nice voice. Ngl, 8/10 because he's swoon worthy.

Dropforge!!;

Dropforge, although only appearing in two episodes, pretty much swept me off my feet. An old timey lieutenant with quite the speech pattern, he’ s a mini that's small in stature, but BIG on personality. Mech doesn’t play with baddies, and is honestly a fun, sorta cool character I wish they had explored earlier, even if it was via Strongarm’s references. I say this for a lot of characters, because it’s true, but he deserved a lot more than what he had. He could’ve been used as a proper back and forth from Cybertron and earth, vs whatever the fuck they had Optimus do. Honestly a coordination between Dropforge and the Bumblebee team would’ve been more affective than literally everything Optimus did. 8/10. 9/10 if they did more with him.

Optimus!!;

I actually wasn’t even going to include him, from how kinda lackluster I found him in this series. But he’s the poster child for Transformers, and Dropforge’s entry sorta made me have some solid thoughts for him. So, this Optimus is one of the weaker ones. Mainly because there was so many alternatives to him coming back to life. I get it, that’s his thing, but it was really done for the sake of bringing back a familiar face. He had funny/dad moments, but he honestly didn’t HAVE to be here. At the weakest Optimus, I give him a 6/10. Would've been more, had his revival had more of an emotional impact from the team (and yes I'm referring to  Ratchet).

Blastwave!!;

Blastwave was a minor character that only appeared for one episode, but I still wanna talk about him, as he’s a part of my favorite episodes of all time, ‘Guilty as Charged’. In his debut, dude comes out as gruff and stuff, only to turn out to be a rather soft, mute bounty hunter. I’m not appreciating him for so much as his personality (but he does seem like a neat guy, he’s better than most characters on this show), but for what he did for this series. He made everything a bit more bearable, and I appreciate his ability to give something for Bumblebee to relate to. 8/10, I love him.

Jazz!!;

Did he appear in one episode then once towards the end? yes. Did I still love him? yes. It’s unfortunate, but most of the really good characters only appear in an episode or two. Jazz is good in every continuity (no I will not be told otherwise), but this one gets props for what he did in his premier episode, ‘can you Dig it?’. He gave Sideswipe a chance to shine, while simultaneously making himself look good. Smooth, handsome, flexible, kind, all wrapped up in quite the frame? it’s no wonder the team’s thot had a crushy wushy on him damn bitch me too and for that, 9/10. Love him literally so much.

[thetypedwriter]

Loveboat, Taipei Book Review

Loveboat, Taipei Book Review by Abigail Hing Wen 

This book is solid. The few people I’ve foisted conversation onto about this book have heard me lavishly declare it to be the YA teenie-bop version of Crazy Rich Asians. 

And while I maintain that my statement above is still true, the book also contained some other elements that either came across as a breath of fresh air or a polluted cloud of toxicity that made me cough and wheeze. 

As for the general synopsis, it’s pretty simple all things considered. You have Ever Wong, a senior who is stressed about college applications, her own future potential, disappointing her parents, and ignoring the unrequited love she has for her best friend’s boyfriend. She also happens to be Chinese-American. 

Ever’s identity as growing up Asian in the predominantly white-as-bread state of Ohio is kicked off quite strongly from the get-go. Ever talks about how the said pining of her best friend’s boyfriend could have not been pining and instead could have been her, but that he was unwilling to put up with her crazy Asian parents and their strict limitations. 

She talks about how her dad, a revered surgeon in Taipei, has been relegated to pushing medical carts in hospitals in the States for the last twenty years as they wouldn’t recognize his medical degree. 

She discusses how she and the only other Aisan kid in her class have an unspoken rule of not looking at each other or calling attention to one another as to not emphasize their Asianness. 

As you can probably tell without having me list off a litany of other examples, this book heavily concentrates on race, identity, family, and self-control. 

At the beginning of the novel, Ever is a shy, timid girl whose willing to give up her dreams of dancing because it’s what's expected of her after all her parents have sacrificed to raise her in America. 

But then her mother sells her black pearl necklace to send Ever to Chien Tan, an immersion program in Taipei where thousands of Asian-American kids are sent for the summer, for the purpose of learning the culture, language, and other specialized skills like Chinese medicine, calligraphy, ribbon dancing and stick fighting. 

Ever is reluctant at first, desperate to stay back and find a way to keep dancing, but as her mother literally throws her leotard in the dumpster, Ever knows it’s a losing battle. 

So she goes. And she is amazingly transformed. 

The rest of the book details Ever’s excursions with finding friends and love, immersing herself in the culture that Taipei has to offer, coming to terms with her own identity and race, growing up, making mistakes, hitting a low point, and then getting back up again to achieve her dreams and fight for what she believes in. 

Now, the highlight of this book is definitely the representation, the talk of race and culture, and the actual experiences of Chien Tan, more commonly referred to by the kids who attend as Loveboat, drawn from the author Abigail Hing Wen herself. 

Loveboat, as they call it, is an actual program that the author Wen and others attended and still attend. It’s obvious just from reading how much of Ever’s experience is drawn from the author’s herself and that IS ALWAYS AN AMAZING THING. 

One of the first pieces of writing advice I Ever (hahahha sorry, not sorry) received was to write what you know. Wen does this and knocks it out of the park. Loveboat comes alive with her writing, flowing from page to page seamlessly. 

She crafts it with such care and consideration that you feel like you’re there yourself, down to what the dorms look like with sticking doors, what they serve for breakfast, and the electives offered for academic selections. All of these little details brought such life and realism to the story and it made it an incredibly engaging read. 

Add on Wen’s real talk of race, racism, identity, and the struggle for identity, and you indeed have a delectable concoction of raw representation from a person of color who has experienced these things first-hand. 

Authors of color and representation in YA of characters of color have improved drastically in the last few years, but it’s still something to be expanded upon, drawn from, and encouraged and explored. 

Wen’s story is almost entirely made of Asian teenagers of differing backgrounds and experiences, and it was honestly so nice to not read about another white girl from a white girl. The story was real and filled with culture and struggle, but also beauty, friendship, and acceptance. 

All of these things hark back to why I call this book solid. 

Now onto why I don’t call this book great. 

I legitimately would have preferred if this book focused more on Ever’s identity as Ai-Mei, her struggle between wanting to be a dancer and not crushing her parents’ soul by rejecting the medical career they so want her to be in, and immersing herself in all the wonderful sights, smells, and experiences Taipei had to offer.

 Of course, love and friendship and drama should play a role, this is YA after all, but personally I felt like the romance dominated the book almost entirely, shoving the questions of race and identity and struggle to the backdrop of a pretty redundant love triangle. 

Which. We’re over the love triangle people, stop writing them. 

But really, I understand that the two don’t need to be mutually exclusive, and oftentimes, Ever’s struggle with her race and identity went hand-in-hand with her struggles for romance, but there was JUST. SO. MUCH. OF. IT.  

It was like an episode of the Bachelor if the Bachelor would stop casting white people as their main lead. Every other chapter was a pretty cliched rendition of some kind of romance trope: the bad boy that draws, the arrogant boy that predictably has a heart, but also a girlfriend, the so-called girlfriend flying out to Taipei, the evil stuck-up girl, literal running into chests moments, shirtless of course, and so many more to offer. 

For an author doing incredible things on the front of representation and real talk about stereotypes, racism, and prejudice, I found her book pretty stereotypical of a YA romance itself. 

There were several plot points that were also just incredibly predictable (the nude photos, my god, saw that from a mile away) that made reading this book just a little bit lackluster when I otherwise was really enjoying it. 

Unfortunately, the biggest turn-off this book had for me other than the recycled plot and the ridiculous, predictable, rampant love triangle were the characters themselves. They all kind of...sucked. 

They aren’t awful, by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re also not special either. Other than the fact that they’re Chinese, Chinese-American, or identify as another minority, and the implicit struggles and nuances that come with it, they were like any other archetypal character that I tend to dislike. 

By that I mean that many of the characters I found extremely one-dimensional. 

Each character had about two things about them that defined their whole characters. 

Now, not to blind you with my nerdiness, but other than books, I also am quite the connoisseur of anime. This book, in a lot of ways, comes across as a printed form of anime to me. 

There is a term in anime called Isekai which roughly translates to “accidental travel” and is saturated with shows all about people falling into magical worlds unpredictably. 

Additionally (stay with me here), anime is also quite infamous for having very archetypal characters where one or two traits dominate their whole being so completely as that is the only thing about them that comes across. 

Loveboat, Taipei in my eyes, is literally a print form of an Isekai. Which is not a compliment.

I really wanted to like Ever, Sophie, Rick, and Xavier, the predominant characters along with a whole cast of others. But I kind of...didn’t. Frankly, there wasn’t much to like or know about them. 

Ever’s character was dominated by her love for dancing and her determination to break from her parent’s protective shell, Sophie was a bossy bitch, Rick was Wonder Boy incarnate, Xavier was brooding and artistic-see where I’m going here?

Even the side characters were all identified by one thing-Marc with politics, Matteo with anger, Benji with being baby-faced. I understand that this is one novel and that it’s extremely hard to flesh out characters and unfold nuances and depth, but I personally found Loveboat, Taipei to be lacking in this quality, exceptionally so. 

Ever especially I found irritating. On some levels, I understand that Wen was trying to depict her as a flawed character who makes mistakes and learns from them, trying to represent the growth of her character and blooming into herself, but more often than not, I found her selfish, immature, and aggravating. 

When you add on that Rick is head-over-heels in love with her (as is Xavier) for reasons that don’t really make sense or are legitimately earned in the story, then the romance feels forced and falls apart, hence me wishing Wen focused more on other elements rather than romance. 

This plot contrivance, everyone, is what I lovingly call Bella Swan Syndrome-when a hot guy or vice versa falls in love with someone who legitimately doesn’t deserve it or the love is inorganic or just flat out doesn’t make sense. 

Wen attempted the whole hate-to-love thing, which I love, but also which I genuinely think failed here due to the romance being subpar and undeserved. 

Combine my lack of any real attachment to any character with the trite that was the romance, but mix it in with the praises above of realism and representation and you end at solid. 

Recommendation: If you are sick of the white people, I hear you. If you’ve been looking for books heavily centered on POC characters or written by authors of color, then I’m with you there as well. This book is a great novel for discussions of race and identity and for those Crazy Rich Asians fans out there. However, do not expect this to be the pinnacle of romance, story, or characterization, which unfortunately, falls below average on this one. 

Score: 6/10

[priorireverte]

Congratulations Ash!

Your application for Katie Bell has been accepted. Katie is a character I’ve rarely given much thought, frankly, but I’ve completely fallen in love with her already. You’ve given her so much depth and involved her so closely in everything that is happening. I can’t wait to see what she gets up to!

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Ash, she/her.

TIMEZONE: PST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I reckon I am about a six or seven out of ten. I am constantly on mobile and accessible for plotting, but prefer to do all of my replies once I am home from work and have access to a computer.

ANYTHING ELSE: I have ten plus years role-playing experience and I am looking forward to this amazing opportunity to potentially write Katie again for the first time in years. She was one of the first characters I ever wrote in the Harry Potter world and holds a very special place in my heart.

CHARACTER DETAILS

NAME: Katherine Emery Bell ( Katie Bell )

BIRTHDATE: 21 April, 1978.

DEATHDATE: 10 October, 1997 N/A, still alive and kicking.

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Katie is a cisfemale who uses she/her pronouns. She is bisexual, as she was taught to love and embrace everyone for who they were at a young age. It doesn’t matter what they are; she only weighs who they are inside.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor.

OCCUPTATION: Unspeakable, Death Chamber.

FACECLAIM: Poppy Drayton, though I might want to switch if accepted / after having some time to sleep on it.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

Like many, Katie too has scars from the war. They are weighted far heavier than she cares to admit and she carries them with her everywhere. In the pocket of her favorite cloak, tightly wrapped around her not just for warmth, but security too; on her broomstick whenever she needs to escape from the static background noise; or to one of her best mate’s houses where she is sure to find relief at the bottom of a shared bottle of fire-whiskey.

Katie shies away from intimacy’s pervasive touch. She does not give her trust away so freely like she once did as a carefree girl. Every instinct to share a piece of herself and love others is met with restraint. These are a few of the repercussions she faces because of the damage inflicted on her. She has been to a dark place; tethered between the realms of life and death while being neither here nor there. She clawed her way back to stable ground, though there are times she questions its permanence. In fact, if anything the war has taught her everything is fleeting. Now she leaves claw marks on everything, but can’t seem to hold onto any of it.

Practically everyone she knows has been touched in some way by the war; some of their scars running far deeper than her own. She lost friends and a part of herself, but many had it off far worse. Katie tries not to linger on her own pain and psychological trauma for that reason. At the end of the day, she survived; the heart beating in her chest confirms she is alive despite sometimes feeling anything but.

Since the war came to pass five years ago ( though at times it feels like a separate lifetime ago ), Katie has channeled her experiences and emotions into molding a successful career as an Unspeakable where she works in the Death Chamber. Since her brush with death at seventeen, Katie found herself unusually fascinated with the subject matter. She spent six months hospitalized in St. Mungo’s, a majority of which she was at what felt like death’s door. She swore she did die, but that was a difficult pill for her to swallow—let alone anyone else, so she kept that secret sealed tightly under lock and key. Katie figured that was the better alternative than being labeled crazy.

It took a long time for her to cope with what occurred, and even longer to bring up the occurrence with those closest to her. Being cursed certainly had its affects; it changed who she was and what made her tick. When she returned to Hogwarts and participated in the final quidditch match of her school-career against Ravenclaw, the game did not give her the same adrenaline filled rush it once had. She unknowingly battled depression and PTSD that year struggling to hold onto all the things she loved. They no longer provided her with sustenance, but she confused these arbitrary feelings with lackluster consequences from a progressive war with what felt like no end insight.

PERSONALITY

As a girl, Katie was known for being carefree and reckless. She was an untamed spirit who had not yet learned about the world’s cruelness. She had no reason then to be the emotionally guarded woman she would become. The final years of the war forced her to grow up much sooner than she ever planned for herself. Her overly-competitive demeanor was combated by a sudden instability. Trust no longer comes as easily for her as it once did. When she was imperiused during her last year of school and subsequently cursed by the Opal Necklace, she felt like she lost a part of herself. She no longer enjoyed many of the same hobbies she once did. She questioned everything, from the motives of her friends to the intricacies of life. She was no longer left in control, but instead reeling with trust issues in the present day—the most concerning being the lack of trust she feels in herself. It is an unspoken feeling, but it looms above her like a dark cloud.

Since being cursed, Katie has been keenly inept at desensitizing and disassociating from reality whenever it doesn’t fit perfectly in the box she has crafted for it. The war left her jaded and its scars provided an unwanted resilience she transformed into armor. She has survived many battles, but even the ones she lost were never for naught. They each made her stronger—just a mere fraction of the woman she will become, but still knowingly has many lessons to learn before fully evolving. However, Katie is plagued with self-doubt. Perhaps that is what holds her back from achieving her full potential.

Katie is now far more reserved than she once was. Her desire for love and ability to share it with others has diminished since she was a child, muted by a perverted sense of drive. She has a bad habit of shutting not only the world out, but those closest to her too. It can be a lonely road at times, so she throws herself into her work with hopeless abandon. She is driven and sees every project through to the very end. Ironically though, her never-ending need to answer life’s most challenging questions is exactly what holds her back from living life to the fullest. She has a one track mind and can become so preoccupied, or short-sighted, she forgets to hold onto what is really important.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY

Katie grew up in a happy family with very relaxed core values. Her parents always demonstrated love to her and her brother, Christian, even when they weren’t the most deserving or receptive. Olivia and Rhys Bell loved each other fiercely; that was one consistent factor in Katie’s life. As the youngest Bell in the family of four, she was spoiled and fussed over more than she cares too admit. She recalls all the arguments and tiffs her and Christian got into over the years—a trait that seemed to follow the pair into adulthood. Their parents on the other hand hardly ever fought. Katie believed there must be occasions they clashed with one another, but it was evident they were far more emotionally reserved than their children. They made a point not to fight in front of them, which always raised the question of where their children’s argumentative tendencies came from.

It was important for Olivia and Rhys to make their children feel empowered starting at a young age. They wanted to instill in them a strong sense of confidence that would allow them to break through any obstacles in their way or complete whatever task they set out on. As survivors of the first wizarding wixen war, and Olivia being a muggle-born, it was imperative to them their children didn’t embody the same fear or embrace any limitations as they once did. This nurturing mindset is exactly how Katie got into flying. Her father gifted a toy broomstick to her one Christmas when she was no more than six years old. She can recall the sheer horror on her mother’s face that morning; it was evident she was not in on the surprise, otherwise there probably would have been no broom at all that year. Christian had received one a few years prior and Olivia’s excitement over the matter quickly disintegrated when he lost control and spiraled into their garden trellis. Christian didn’t fly again until his first year lessons, however his sister’s abilities came far more natural than his own.

Once Olivia realized her daughter was more agile than her first born, she quickly warmed up to the idea. After she mastered and eventually outgrew the dainty toy broomstick, it was her mom who splurged for her first trainer’s broom. Katie excitedly whipped the new broom around their property, memorizing every trace of it from the new safe haven she had discovered. Flying became an escape for her. Quidditch always brought much excitement, but flying was what truly made her feel at peace with herself. Over the years she fully mastered the skill ( while running through her fair share of broomsticks ), and Katie knew she had her parents to thank for supporting her in spite of themselves and pushing her forward every time she wanted to quit. Though her quidditch career eventually faded away, her love for flying never wavered as her unconditional love for her parents and brother never has.

Present day, Katie and her family still share a special bond. Her parents continue to support all her endeavors even if they don’t necessarily agree or understand them. At times Katie is aware there is a disconnect between them, but it is something she can’t seem to avoid. Olivia and Rhys witnessed their daughter go from a bubbly and charismatic girl to someone almost unrecognizable at times, but since the war is still so fresh for everyone it has become easier to turn the other cheek.

HISTORY

Katie always considered her life very ordinary. Her parents worked hard to ensure her and her brother had a good life. They were a close-knit family and, though they got on her nerves on occasion, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them. Katie recalls her childhood fondly. Olivia read books to both her children frequently, however Katie found herself to be easily distracted. Her head would wander to the sky where she would pluck shapes out of the clouds. Christian was the calm and retentive child—it was much easier for their parents to hold his attention. Katie on the other hand was a bumbling ball of energy since she was of crawling age. She would color the walls or demolish Christian’s toys if left unattended. It was much easier to hold her attention whenever baking was involved. Katie had a knack for sweets, though the thought of giving her more sugar didn’t always appeal. Still, she somehow persuaded her mum into baking cookies with her often. These were some of the best days of her childhood.

As soon as Katie was gifted her first toy broomstick, a spark ignited. Flying undoubtedly was her first love. Whenever her and Christian had a sibling squabble or he was getting on her nerves, she would run to her broomstick immediately and take flight; and when it was his time to leave for Hogwarts and she was left behind for three more years, flying became her therapy and release. It remedied the loneliness.

When it was finally time for Katie to head off to Hogwarts, her natural charisma and energetic personality really shined through in all she did. She made friends quickly and they became a forefront in her life. She fed off the energy of those around her and subsequently became a member of numerous school clubs. Joining the Gryffindor quidditch team her second year was the highlight of her entire school-career. She considered those initial years to be the best of all; her original teammates quickly became a second family to her. It was a feeling that still echoed long after their glory days on the quidditch pitch.

When Lord Voldemort returned, Katie found herself at a loss for words. She considered Harry Potter a friend and teammate. No one in her inner circle doubted him nor did she, however she did have a difficult time comprehending just what that meant. Cedric Diggory was also a friend; like many, seeing his body in the aftermath of the Tri-Wizard Tournament was Katie’s first brush with death. It was evident to the then fifteen year old that only something vile and cruel could take the life of someone like Cedric—someone with so much potential. She jumped at the opportunity to join Dumbledore’s Army for that reason. She believed in the cause and, reflecting on the pain the first war put her own parents through, Katie had to believe there was a reason she wound up here when she did.

Katie genuinely did not believe anything could be more difficult than that period of time, but her seventh year was one of the most challenging of all. Katie was not sure when the trip to Hogsmeade went awry on that beautiful fall day. There was excitement in the air despite the frigid temperature that brought the first snowfall of the season. That is one of the only memory’s Katie holds onto from that day. She later woke up in St. Mungo’s where she was told she had been for six months recovering from a fatal curse.

With a hoarse voice and fear filling her eyes, Katie asked the first healer she saw if she was dead.

The healer laughed as if she made some kind of joke. “ No honey, you’re lucky to be alive. ”

Lucky to be alive.

Except the problem was Katie didn’t feel anything, least of all alive. She spent the last six months in a foreign place, but didn’t feel nearly as lost or confused there as she did now that she was back in the earthly dimension.

The phrase continues to haunt her six years after her near-death experience. Maybe the Healer was right and she should feel lucky, but she doesn’t. Now that the war has come to pass, she is riddled with guilt. She cannot walk away from what happened to her six years ago despite making it out of the war alive. That alone should be enough reason to celebrate, but it is not. There are too many unanswered questions and Katie understands better than most who survived the war that everyone is borrowed time. She cannot unsee the place she spent six months of her life trapped in. She is desperate to understand it and even more desperate to know if the souls of her lost friends now inhabit the same space.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

This group captivated my attention immediately upon discovery. The Trio Era is what originally got me into role-playing Harry Potter and the Marauders is what kept me, so this role-play truly is the perfection combination. I have been looking for a group to join for some time now and your group has one of the freshest and most unique concepts I’ve ever seen! Plus, it is obvious the passion and care that has gone into creating this group. I am excited to potentially be a part of the journey and see where the story takes us all together.

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS

CHARACTER CONTRIBUTION

Katie possesses a lot of versatility with her character. She naturally has an outgoing and charismatic personality, and is quick at adapting to her surroundings. She has always been an integral part of whatever community she is a part of—ranging from her time at Hogwarts on the quidditch team, in the dueling club, or Dumbledore’s Army; to her career beyond the castle’s walls. She has proved herself a loyal friend to many. I think her experience being cursed by the Opal Necklace makes her an imperative character because she has knowledge from that ordeal others might not be equipped with, which she has channeled into a career within the Ministry of Magic as an Unspeakable.

I headcanon that when Katie was cursed by the necklace during her seventh year, she spent a large portion of her time in St. Mungo’s unconscious. During this period she had an out of body experience where she thought she was dead. She tightly holds onto the secret that she visited what may be known to some as limbo, purgatory, or the underworld out of fear of being labelled crazy. She doesn’t dismiss her experience though; she clings to it, and it to effects every aspect of her life.

Katie’s brush with death made her obsessed with the idea of it. Since the war’s conclusion she has tried to dissect the mechanics of life and death, but had no success. Everyday feels the exact same; she is capped out with little to show for her efforts. That is, until the first of the returned makes their appearance through the veil. This ignites a new obsession in Katie all over again.

PRESENT

“ Have you heard? ” A stocky Unspeakable buzzed with excitement as he pushed passed Katie and exited the elevator lift.

“ Heard what? ” The woman quipped in his direction as she rubbed her tired eyes, but by the time she gathered her senses he was already hurrying off down the corridor. Katie shrugged her shoulders back and dismissed the interaction before continuing along in the same direction. Unusual occurrences were the norm in this part of the Ministry so she didn’t think much of it. She was already getting a late start on her day anyway so she decided to quicken her pace as she rounded the corner leading to her dual office/laboratory, where she was forced to stop abruptly when she came across a throng of other Unspeakables littering the hallway. Katie quirked a brow upon the realization everyone was huddled near the Death Chamber.

“ What is going on? ” She asked the same Unspeakable who she spotted standing nearby.

“ You don’t know? ” Emerson gaped, which annoyed Katie slightly. “ They are saying someone has returned through the veil. ”

“ What do you mean ‘returned through the veil?’ I didn’t realize we were trying to send anyone to the other-side— ”

“ No, someone no longer living returned through the veil. They came back from the dead. ”

“ Impossible, ” Katie uttered in protest, but her own near-death experience quickly replayed in her head. She was only seventeen when she swore she too briefly died, so maybe it wasn’t impossible for the dead to return after all.

“ No really, a boy was found wandering the corridors naked this morning. Creevy is what they’re calling him. ”

Katie stood silent for a moment as she processed what she had just been informed. “ Someone came back to life? Through the veil? ” The witch repeated as her dark eyes swirled with sudden intensity. Emerson merely nodded. “ I sure picked a hell of a day to be late. ” She concluded completely gobsmacked.

“ You won’t make that mistake again, ” Emerson chuckled before disappearing off into the crowd to try and sneak a closer look.

And he was right. From that day forward, Katie was never late again. She always put her best foot forward when it came to her career, but the stakes suddenly felt like they had been raised even higher upon the departed’s return. The one thing she now knows for certain is that this might be the only opportunity she has to find answers to the questions that have been tormenting her for the last six years—and she doesn’t plan on letting this moment pass her by like she did unwittingly the last one.

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 186

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 38 - “Precure 5′s Cinderella Story” Date watched: 15 May 2020 Original air date: 28 October 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/Sc5B6vA Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

Glass slippers: not even once

This episode introduces an idea that will get explored a fair few times in series down the road: the fairy tale episode. Cinderella is a particularly popular one, because it’s a simple story that little girls can imagine themselves in and there’s a lot of room to play with the narrative. It’s hardly a revolutionary idea for fiction, but it’s still fun to see how Precure plays with it, and the spin in this episode is particularly unusual for manifesting in two different ways. Let’s explore!

The Plot

Milk decides to try copying down the story of Cinderella for writing practice, as she plans to write her own novel a la Komachi, and copying a book is apparently a good way to study story structure. However, she gets bored copying it verbatim, so she decides to put her own spin on the narrative, portraying the cures as the characters. Nozomi is Cinderella, Komachi is the evil mother, Rin and Karen are the evil sisters, and Urara is the witch (no fairy godmother here). Coco fills the role of the prince at the ball and Nuts is another nobleman. All of the characters are strangely self-aware, except for Nozomi. They know the story of Cinderella, they know they’re characters in it, they’re basically going through the motions as the story dictates. When Urara shows up to give Nozomi her magical makeover, she winds up transforming her into other fictional characters first before she gets it right.

this dress should look familiar

Once she’s at the ball, Nozomi trips and falls, getting the attention of Prince Coco, who in turn dances with her. Nuts also approaches Komachi and asks her to dance, commenting that it’s just the kind of story they’re in. Karen and Rin have an exchange where they ask who Coco is dancing with despite both of them knowing exactly who it is. Urara shows up in a gown, and everyone knows she was supposed to be the witch. Did I mention it was weird? And to reiterate, Milk is writing this, these aren’t the real Nozomi and co. transported into the story. Milk has written them to be self-aware. What a strange book. Anyway, she has Nozomi trip and fall and they all end up in a pile on the ground and that’s where her story leaves off when she’s interrupted by the real girls knocking on her door. She hides her writing from them and tries to find somewhere more private to write, but as soon as she steps outside, Bunbee confronts her and decides to suck everyone into the world of her story.

Darkness imprisoning me, all that I see - wait have I used that joke before?

The next thing they know, they’re inside Milk’s Cinderella! But they don’t bother acting out the story, they see Bunbee holding Milk hostage and he turns the chandelier into a Kowaina, so they transform as well.

The Kowaina is able to use reflected light as laser beams to attack the girls so the team scatters. Dream and Rouge focus on fighting Bunbee to try to rescue Milk, but the kowaina keeps getting in their way, so Lemonade, Mint, and Aqua manage to hold it off while the other two get the jump on Bunbee. They free Milk, and then get upset at collateral damage to the castle being caused by their fight. Bunbee taunts that he’ll destroy this world like he destroyed the Palmier Kingdom, but all the girls respond by kicking his ass and the kowaina’s ass and then Dream performs Crystal Shoot to defeat it, and Bunbee flees.

After they detransform, the clock strikes midnight and they realize they’re still in the story, so they all run to get “home”. On the way down the stairs, Nozomi trips and one of her glass slippers flies off, opening a portal back to Natts House.

Somehow the glass slipper came back with them, and they remember that whoever it fits is supposed to marry the prince. Nozomi and Coco share a glance but before she can put it on, Milk LEAPS into the air and lands inside the shoe, claiming it as a perfect fit. Nozomi starts to chase her, demanding her shoe back, while Karen, Komachi, and Rin pick up the scattered pages of Milk’s manuscript. They take umbrage with her portrayal of them in the story, and the episode closes on Nozomi, Karen, and Rin all chasing her up the stairs.

The Analysis

It’s certainly a fun episode, a nice uptick from the last few. The spins on Cinderella are clever and funny, and this cast really makes it work. I do find it weird just how self-aware they seem to be in Milk’s story. One time in high school (probably around the time this show aired actually) I did a creative writing assignment which completely shattered the fourth wall, but my jokes were more absurdist than this. The characters act as though they’re the real Nozomi, Rin, etc who have been transported into the story and know they have to act it out, rather than like they’re characters within the narrative watching as the events unfold. I don’t really understand why it was composed this way, it doesn’t make sense from Milk’s perspective to have them be self-aware and make comments on their knowledge of the story, that sort of gag is much more suited for the characters being sucked into the story, which they did in the second half of the episode anyway. Structurally it may have been better to have them absorbed into the story early in the episode, play out the tale of Cinderella until the mid-point, and then Bunbee reveals himself or something and the rest goes as normal.

Regardless of whether the gags make sense in context, though, they are hilarious. The wicked stepmother being played by the nicest girl of the bunch is peak irony, and Rin and Karen the frequent head-butters as the stepsisters makes me laugh, although they didn’t really play up their little rivalry. None of them take their roles very seriously, which adds to the comedy. The highlight for me has to be when Urara shows up and transforms Nozomi. She cycles through a couple different outfits before she gets it right:

The most notable ones are Momotaro and Princess Kaguya, who are the subjects of famous Japanese fairy tales.

She also gets turned into a bear, a clown, and even a monster! I enjoy the self-awareness as well. Urara showing up at the ball despite and being called out by the others as the witch, the frequent comments about this all being “how the story goes” or what have you. My favorite exchange is when Karen asks who’s dancing with the Prince and Rin tells her it’s Cinderella, the title character, and Karen responds that she knows but she has to stick to the script. I don’t know why but this is peak comedy to me, and my greatest wish is that it be the actual characters who are saying this and not just Milk writing.

The payoff to this, however, is the revelation at the end when Karen, Komachi, and Rin look at Milk’s manuscript and realize exactly how she’s cast them. Even if Karen and Milk have a good relationship, she doesn’t like being exploited in this way, and when Milk remarks that an angry Karen is scarier than an evil sister, she and Rin lose their minds and start to chase her. Komachi, in typical fashion, is upset but not angry. I have said it before but I love the character interactions in this show. They always manage to play off each other wonderfully, and they seamlessly and believably transition between comedy and seriousness.

Curiously, Milk doesn’t insert herself into the story for whatever reason. You would expect her to place herself in the role of Cinderella so she could get the handsome prince, but she seems more content to play god with her friends, and especially to make Nozomi suffer.... although the worst thing she actually does is have her trip and break things a lot. Considering she says she wants to be with Coco romantically, she doesn’t show it much. She fantasizes about it a little bit when she’s in his presence but on some level she seems to realize he’s a better match for Nozomi. I think it’s telling that she automatically pairs up Coco with Nozomi and Komachi with Nuts even in her fantasy.

The villain plot of this episode is rather lackluster. Sucking the girls into the world of Cinderella and then destroying it isn’t as effective as sucking them into Komachi’s novel, which was an actual dangerous setting that Arachnea enhanced in that instance. It doesn’t benefit Bunbee in any way to have them in this setting, and that’s disappointing. I wish they could have better justified it. It does allow for a pretty good fight, but it’s not any better than battles they’ve fought in the real world. My favorite part is when Cure Rouge mule kicks Bunbee, and then a sequence where everyone gets single or pair attacks in on him where their animation is really warped because it’s going fast.

It’s not bad, you can only see this if you freeze-frame, but boy is it weird. And there’s some other animation oddities in this episode. I’m not sure if I’ve brought up before their habit of drawing a shot from far away that has low detail, and either zooming in on it or starting up close and zooming out, but the point is, when they do this, it really enhances how low-quality the drawing is. And there’s a shot of Bunbee that’s drawn this way for some reason. It’s zoomed in on him as a person, he transforms, and THEN the camera zooms out. I can only assume they originally blocked this shot out as being zoomed out always, because otherwise there’s no reason that his human model should be as low-res as it is.

Here’s a fun little bit of continuity I picked up on that relates to Bunbee as well. If you remember way back in episode 14, he used a missile attack that broke Mint Reflection, and they had to team up to deflect it. Well he uses it again here, but this time, Komachi has Mint Shield at her disposal, which we know is stronger, and it’s able to block the missile completely without anyone else’s assistance.

Additionally, one little oddity I picked up on is, of all things, a reused piece of background music! During the scene where Urara-as-the-witch appears to Nozomi-Cinderella, they cue her in with the track “Strange Occurrence” from the FWPC soundtrack. I haven’t noticed any other instances of them using backing tracks from outside this season’s OST, so this sticks out to me.

I want to say a quick piece about these ball gowns that they’re all wearing and then I’ll wrap this up.

If you have a keen eye and a good memory, you might remember Nozomi’s dress and Coco’s suit as being first seen in her brief fantasy in episode 34:

The others are new.... sort of. Chronologically speaking this is their first appearance, but they also show up in the movie which premiered a week after this episode’s broadcast, and I’m reasonably certain, because of how long movies take to produce, they were designed for that first and then incorporated back into the show. Reusing costume designs isn’t a new phenomenon, I pointed out way back in FWPC that they reused the Romeo and Juliet costumes in the dream episode, I just wanted to point it out.

This was a fun episode with some great gags in it, but while they tried to put an original spin on the concept of placing your characters in another established fictional work, the execution fell short of its potential and keeps the episode from being as good as it could have been.

My next review will be the Yes! Precure 5 movie! I always allow myself to indulge on movies, and this one will be no exception, so in order to make it the best review possible, it’s going to take several days of work to get done. I hope to have it out within a week, and I’ll make progress announcements about it on PCD Status, so please be patient and look forward to that!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 kettei!

[cryoculus]

Lunaris [5/11]

*casually changes the chapter count* yall didnt see A THING

!! ALSO !! Trigger warnings for graphic depictions of gore at the latter half of the chapter. Just thought I’d put it up there. 

Navigation

Chapter Title: Full Moon Pairing: Yokai!Akaashi Keiji/Reader Word Count: 3,543

***

"This week's lunar eclipse was reported to be a total eclipse! The shadow of the sun will engulf the moon completely—what a sight to see, indeed!"

"Bah," your grandmother scoffed through the sound of sautéing ingredients as she switched off the TV. "News channels poison the minds of people, anyway." 

You gaped at her incredulously from where you sat on the dining table. "Oba-san, I was watching that!" 

The older woman tutted at you as she transferred the leftover rice from last night onto the frying pan. "You know eclipses are a bad omen, and these people intend to say otherwise."

"Ba-san, not everybody lives by the Tsukuyomi traditions—"

"Do you want some sukonbu flakes on your gohan?" 

"I—yes, please."

When your grandmother was done cooking breakfast for the day, she laid out two bowls of gohan, each topped with a raw egg in the middle. The scent of the freshly fried rice wafted to your nose, and you immediately forgot about your prior sulking because of how delectable your food looked like. As you reached for the soy sauce to encourage more flavor, however, your grandmother took your hand in hers, shooting you a stern look.

"Don't go out on the night of the eclipse," she said. "It's been a while since I've last seen one, but it always preceded misfortune."

Confused, you asked, "How long ago is 'a while', oba-san?" 

Instead of humoring you with a proper answer, she merely chuckled at the inquiry as she sat down right across from you. "It doesn't matter. Just stay in the house, alright? It's a good thing it didn't land on the day of the festival, itself."

Knowing it would be no use arguing with her, you exhaled a sigh of defeat once you've dripped enough soy sauce onto your food. The snap of wooden chopsticks rang in your ears as you let anticipation swell in your chest. Was it just you or was the egg yolk seemingly glittering in the morning daylight?

"Thank you for the meal!"

*** 

Japanese Literature was easily your most favorite subject because of two reasons. 

The first was that you were already familiar with most of the topics listed off in the course module already. Genji Monogatari was one of the first books your grandmother had given to you as a child, and she'd be the one to help you out with understanding the difficult words. But even if you've spent a majority of your life with your nose stuffed in books and manuscripts snagged from the shrine's old storage room, there was still a lot more to learn—about the vast, hidden truths of the world that still eluded you. 

That's where the second reason came in. 

"The moon goddess, Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto, was born from the right eye of the creator, Izanagi-no-Mikoto; while her brother, Amaterasu-omikami was born from his left eye," your teacher drawled out the facts you already knew from the pocketbook in his hands. The disinterested set of his brow was clue enough of how much he would rather be doing anything else other than spitting out excerpts from Japanese mythology in front of high schoolers. 

It was last period for you, and even though you were normally motivated to listen despite your teacher's apathy for the course, you were feeling the fatigue you've accumulated from training slowly catching up to you. Fukurodani was a powerhouse when it came to its sports teams, and the reputation that you had to uphold was a heavier burden than getting remarkable official records for future reference. Though Coach Yamamoto was usually lenient, he'd already transformed into his demon coach persona at the beginning of the week. 

But after you've zoned into your own thoughts for a good twenty minutes, your teacher managed to yank you back into attentiveness when he'd tackled the topic of yokai. 

"In more popular literature, yokai were commonly depicted as grotesque creatures that consume human flesh," he began, "but there have been several tales that told of those able to take on the form of human beings; making it much easier for them to prowl across the land unnoticed." 

Hm. Sounds like a certain, unsuspecting second year to me. 

"However, even though they use deception as their means of getting by, those yokai still revert back to their true forms under specific circumstances. For children of the first Tengu, they are quite susceptible to rain. Once it begins to pour from the heavens, their disguises wear off at the snap of a finger." 

Your brows knit together in curiosity. Akaashi was one of those shape shifters, then. But if that tale applied to all shape-shifting yokai, what could Akaashi's trigger be?

Shaking your head, you proceeded jotting down the assignment that your teacher began scribbling on the chalkboard once he's gone over the topic. It wasn't something that should warrant your interest. Strictly speaking, you weren't even friends with Akaashi. You were just someone who'd managed to figure out what he was. That was all there was to it.

Yet, a few hours later, once you'd gotten your fresh taste of your demon coach's training regimens, you found yourself waiting by the school gates.

As you bounced impatiently on the balls of your feet, jamming your hands in the pockets of your track jacket to distract yourself somehow, your gaze darted every now and again at the other students that also stayed behind for club activities. There was still no sign of the volleyball team. 

In hindsight, you could have just hung around in the gym, waiting for them to finish. Bokuto's admirers did it all the time, so why couldn't the captain of the track team do the same? Ah, right.

You still couldn't bear to look Bokuto in the eye after he'd asked you to go with him to the lunar festival.

How on Earth could you face him eye-to-eye after that? Why would he even ask you, of all people, in the first place? You've been giving Itsumi the cold shoulder for the past few days, too. How dare she tell the ace to get a red kimono when your favorite kimono was patterned after crimson cherry blossoms?! 

"(Surname)-san?" 

You didn't know how your instinctive reaction to Akaashi's voice would reflect on the way you supposedly saw him as, but in your defense, you were surprised by how he addressed you. The setter was donned in his school uniform, and he didn't have the air of someone who'd just gotten out of volleyball practice.

"A-Akaashi," you stuttered, hoping it wasn't glaringly obvious that you were waiting for him in particular. "You weren't at training?" 

His brows were raised with subtle curiosity before he shook his head. "My class has a production coming up, and it costs about seventy percent of our final grade. Coach Yamiji allowed me some time off." 

"Oh," the word tumbled pathetically from your lips, before you cleared your throat. "I-I see. You're quite diligent, huh? I mean, for a yokai blending in as a—"

"(Surname)-san," Akaashi interrupted warily, and you were immediately struck by the awareness of how loud your voice was. Getting his plea, you toned down your voice a couple of notches lower.

"I still find it kind of interesting, you know." Chuckling, you folded your arms across your chest. "From what you told me, I think you're someone ancient. You could track down whoever has your heart in no time and you wouldn't have to subject yourself to mundane things like that." 

Akaashi merely stared at you with the same, navy-eyed gaze before his line of sight darted around the vicinity. Then, he beckoned you to come closer. When you leaned your ear next to his face, the setter whispered, "(Surname)-san, I would appreciate it if you didn't disclose such information out in the open." 

"It's not like anyone's listening," you argued, pouting at him. "By the way, I have something to ask you." 

"Does your curiosity have no bounds?" He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. You'd only noticed it now, but there were traces of fatigue on his face that you would've missed if you hadn't looked so closely. You almost felt bad for cornering him like this, but...

"Can you show me your true form?" 

Something flashed across his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it surfaced, and now Akaashi was just staring at you like he was just done with your demands. 

"You know, I only ever meet extremely infuriating humans one after the other," he told you, dragging a palm across his face. "But it seems like the gods are subjecting me to the punishment of handling both you and Bokuto-san at the same time."

You snorted out an ugly-sounding laugh, covering your mouth to somehow stifle your giggles. "I told you, you didn't have to do any of this kiss-ass shit. You could just—"

"You wanted to see my true form, didn't you?" 

The tone of his voice had dipped into something more serious—one that you're unused to hearing from him when you were talking alone. Before getting to know Akaashi as well as you have now, he had just been the apathetic vice captain of the volleyball team. But from the short time you've spent with him, you figured that there was certainly more depth to his personality than he was letting on. 

Yet now, he's talking to you just how he would address any other student in Fukurodani. Your smile receded slowly. Somehow, you didn't like that.

"Yeah," you replied with a lackluster intonation you hadn't meant to make. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you actually...cared about the way he talked to you. You didn't, and that was that. 

With a sigh, Akaashi tilted his head up so that he was glancing at the sky. You noticed that he did that a lot—looking up at the heavens like it gave him answers you didn't know he was looking for. 

When the yokai met your gaze again, no longer did you see the soothing, gunmetal blue of the human whose skin he wore like it was his own. Deep, vermillion eyes bore into you so intently, you could feel him gazing at your very soul—bare, and without any chance of deceit.

"Meet me at the cemetery on the first night of the full moon," he said, voice almost sounding ethereal in your ears, like his voice wasn't his at all. "I'll show you what you want to see so badly."

***

A few days passed since that strange encounter with Akaashi, and you haven't heard from the yokai since. Every time you tried getting a glimpse of him from outside the gym, it was either he was always out of sight or he just wasn't there to begin with. You'd even asked Kazuto, who turned out to be classmates with Akaashi, a thing or two about the said setter, but it seemed that he's called in sick for the past few days because of a nasty cold.

Yokai don't catch colds.

Nonetheless, you found yourself thinking of him less and less as the lunar festival drew closer. Your grandmother insisted that you focus on training for the track meet instead of concerning yourself with the preparations no matter how much you protested. 

"You're only young for a brief time, child," she had told you. "It's your last year in high school, so you better enjoy the festival with your little friends before you all head your separate ways. Leave it to the monks and volunteers to work behind the scenes."

Seeing no point in going against her wishes, that's exactly what you did.

"Hey, (Name)! Over here!" At the bottom of the stairway that led to the Amatsuki shrine, you saw Itsumi and Kazuto idling by as your vice captain frantically waved her hands to get your attention. Overlooking the secondhand embarrassment, you picked up the pace of your descent. 

Once you've managed to join them, Kazuto whistled out loud. "Looking great, cap!"

The compliment urged you to look down on your own get-up. You looked just as you did every year whenever the lunar festival came around, since you've always opted to wear the cherry blossom kimono that used to belong to your mother. But Kazuto was probably talking about the moon pin your grandmother had insisted on styling your hair with. 

It was designed to look like a branch of a sakura tree dipped in silver with a crescent moon embossed in the middle. You had no time left to ask where she got it from and why she gave it you since you were running a bit late on your agreed meet-up time with the team.

"No flirting with senpais, Kazu," scolded Itsumi as she playfully smacked the younger boy across his back. "But he does have a point, though. You look spicy tonight, (Name)!"

"Sumi, I worry about you sometimes."

"Hey!"

Wading through the throng of visitors in the courtyard was none other than Bokuto, himself. His grin was as bright as the lanterns strung above the venue, the golden lights shining down on him like he was the most important person out there. Or maybe that was just because your rose-colored vision was specifically catered for the said ace. When he'd managed to squeeze past the crowd, he breathed out a sigh in relief, wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead.

"What do you think?" he asked, twisting around to show off his outfit. "I kind of had to compromise with the hakama, but the haori's red, just like Furukawa said—"

"Bokuto-san," you breathed, feeling your heart flutter at his effort alone, "you look great."

The ace blinked at you like he wasn't used to receiving compliments on the daily. It was probably just the lanterns messing with your eyes, but was he...blushing?

"So do you," he laughed. "I didn't know we were matching!"

"I didn't either," you replied, shooting Itsumi a narrow-eyed glare, to which your best friend responded by incessantly tugging on your wrist. 

"Come on, you idiots!" Itsumi hollered as you let her drag you to the concessionaire stands. "Last one to get to the goldfish catching booths will treat everyone to candied apples!"

***

"I forgot how enjoyable these festivals really were."

Your ears perked up at the sound of Bokuto's voice. Sparing the ace a sideways glance, you sighed out a long breath as you propped your chin on top of your knees. "I'm glad we managed to remind you, then." 

The two of you were seated on the stone steps just under the torii gates that led up to the shrine. Most of the festival's visitors have already gone up to see the shrine elder's (in this case, your grandmother's) annual performance of the lunar dance. It was dedicated to Tsukuyomi herself so that the shrine and its followers would see good fortune for the months ahead. Itsumi and Kazuto have gone ahead of the both of you, but you'd insisted on staying behind for a while.

But you didn't know that Bokuto would like to keep you company, too.

"Something on your mind?" he wondered, inching a bit closer. "You've been kinda distracted."

As you trained your gaze on the younger visitors that were still trying their hand at catching goldfish at the kingyo booths below, you breathed out an airy chuckle. "Sorry. Was I that obvious?"

"Not really," he said. "Call it a gut feeling." 

"Gut feeling, huh..."

Your gut was telling you right now that you were forgetting something...something important.

But when you turned to glance at Bokuto once again, his mouth was perked up in a lopsided smile that sent a flush of heat crawling up to your cheeks. You've always found his honey-eyed gaze endearing, and knowing that he had his eyes trained on you? Under the light of the moon? The shoujo manga protagonist in you practically jumped—

Meet me at the cemetery on the first night of the full moon

"Bokuto-san," you mumbled as you shot up to your feet, startling the ace as you shot your gaze up to the sky. The moon was in perfect form today, shining oh-so brightly in the sea of stars. "I'm sorry. I have to go. I-I'll... I'm sorry."

You forced out the sound of Bokuto calling out your name from your mind, pushing down the guilt that might fester for later. Your wooden sandals collided with each step in a way that sounded like cannons in your ears. Your heart was beating abnormally fast, just like when you're trying to best another runner at a track meet. Akaashi, who's been missing in action for days now. Akaashi, who looked like he was losing his grip on his own sanity the last time you saw him. Akaashi, who was probably waiting for you at the top of the hill.

You had been the one that coerced him into this agreement, yet it slipped your mind?

When you made it to the shrine, you caught a glimpse of your grandmother's lunar dance in the blink of your eye. She faltered in her movements for a split second. Had you not spent your entire life watching her practice every year, you would've overlooked it. But it seemed that she'd noticed you darting through the audience even if you were cloaked in the darkness. You already knew you were getting a thorough questioning later, but that was at the bottom of your priorities right now.

There's something wrong, you thought. I don't know how, but something's wrong.

You pushed the gate to the cemetery back without care for the rust that coated your fingers. The foreboding was rooted deep into the pits of your heart, and you couldn't placate yourself no matter how many times you told yourself it was probably nothing. Even if you were running out of breath (which terrified you because it took a lot to make you breathless in training), you called out to the yokai.

"Akaashi!" you called out, placing your hands by your mouth to articulate your voice louder. "Are you here?"

The moonlight spilled onto the cemetery startlingly bright, illuminating the gravestones in place in a way you hadn't seen them before. As you passed by your parents' graves, muttering a quick prayer in the process, you began trekking further into the area—towards the forest that you were told to never set foot in. 

The shade of the trees seemed thicker, they loomed higher than you thought they would. At the corner of your eye, you would see the shadows scuttling about, only to be met with nothing but a leaf wafting in the air when you turned around to look. The fear factor was maxed out at this point. But even if your mind yelled for you to turn around, and that you shouldn't even be here, your heart told you that you were exactly where you're supposed to be.

After a few minutes of blindly walking in the darkness, you saw the light of the moon once more as you emerged into a clearing. In the middle of it all, kneeling in a pool of blood, was Akaashi.

Or at least, you assumed it was Akaashi. 

The humanoid creature had its back turned you, like it was preoccupied with something else. Its naked skin was as white as the snow that coated the shrine grounds on the first day of winter, but the mop of unruly hair on top of its head resembled Akaashi's. With blood roaring in your ears, you slowly flanked the creature from the side in attempt of getting a better look. But the sight that greeted you was something that would be burned in the back of your mind for eternity.

It—Akaashi—had a pair of horns jutting out from his forehead, tinged the same hue as his ivory skin. In his taloned hands, he had a carcass so mangled, you could no longer identify if it was an animal or not. His lips were caked in the same blood that pooled beneath him, as deranged, crimson eyes glossed over with the ecstasy from feasting on his meal.

A scream bubbled in your throat, but you knew better than to announce your presence just like that. This was what you wanted, right? To witness him in his true form? You were the one who asked for this and yet...and yet—

The sound of a twig snapping underneath your sandals echoed in the vicinity like you'd just set off a land mine. You could no longer hear him tearing the flesh from its bones, as Akaashi slowly turned to look at you. 

Those weren't the eyes of the kind-hearted yokai you thought he was.

They were the eyes of a killer.

Someone was screaming as you bolted out of the clearing and back into the cemetery. They were still screaming when you nearly tripped on your own feet as you ran down the hill. 

You'd only realized it was you when you barged into the shrine's foyer just after your grandmother finished the dance, weeping inconsolably in her arms for reasons that you would continue to refuse to let them know of in the days to come.

[foulserpent]

i always found it cool but a little lackluster, like missing something that really gives it a sense of identity. think there should have just been more variation and more things you could find in there, maybe exploring more avenues of what ‘knowledge’ means than just books. in some places the library gives way to older ruins, words etched into the ground and walls and ceilings in unrecognizable languages. i like how it plays with your sense of space and reality here and there and it would be great if there could be more.

have evidence of past wanderers. what would be cool and might help with how boring miraak is is like showing evidence of his THOUSANDS of years there. old camps, dragon bones, writings and scrapings. evidence of escape attempts. let you learn his story by environmental storytelling, making him a more compelling villain.

otherwise, maybe some non-hostile creatures that just float around, unresponsive. maybe some seekers try to speak to you but no longer can. have some seekers be more obviously former men and mer, like midway through a transformation. etc

[archer3-13]

FEH Villains Ranked

from best to worst, excluding book 4 cause its still ongoing

lif: genuinely surprised me by being an alfonse with pathos. well he started book 3 as a kinda generic number 2 type, the revelation of his identity as alfonse (though rather obvious at that point) as well as his goal of essentially destroying other worlds as a penance to restore his own is both suitably threatening and tragic. Creating that sense of pathos i mentioned that works so well for him, especially when hes shown to still be a kind person at heart thats been pushed into such horrific actions because of the devastation he had to endure. Especially when you consider that hes carrying the weapon that could kill hel with him which, although kinda lazy that he just has it, is a) a hel of a lot less contrived then anything book 2 pulled off and b) further deepens that sense of pathos when we consider that not only is it a memento of ‘player san’ and presumably everyone else hes lost but that it can also represent, in a way, a symbol of his own failure of will and bowing the knee to hel. Him prioritizing his own happiness and fulfillment in the form of hel resurrecting his world over the good of the ‘fe multiverse’. Point being, its a complexity of character that I honestly wish we got to see more of, and one I really wasn’t expecting from fe heroes given its track record. you’ll see what i mean down the road.

hel: well not terribly complex in motivation, she basically just wants to kill everything to increase her own power, she gets points for a strong presentation and utilization within the story book 3 creates. The limitations on her insta death power being kinda silly aside, though gustavs gambit to circumvent that i honestly really like more so then alfonses rules lawyering, the overhanging presence she has in the lives of book 3′s characters works really well and the pressure to defeat her because of her effectively endless legions works better as an overhanging threat anyways. When I say presentation though I mean more so in how her words, actions, and motivation intersect because well her words on the face of it have the usual villain posturing, her motivation and actions (such as her relation to eir and her generals, and the world she rules over and created) creates an interesting intersection where one can argue that her posturing words are empty of any true feeling. Shes cold and lifeless like the dead she rules and the world she creates, those around her are simply tools to an end but hardly in a cackling manner and more so in the unthinking manner one treats a toothpick. she gets angry or shocked but even then its in a muted manner, almost performing the emotions rather then truly feeling them. Hel lives in an unchanging world, a stillness brought on by the finality of death, and in a way one can argue that its her unspoken desire to spread that stillness, that perfect unchanging world she controls, to every world. Like lif, its a degree of complexity that I wish we got to see more of, especially in her case, and its something i honestly wasnt expecting from heroes.

helbindi: solely because the man goes through a lot of shit, and is an effective portrayal of a sympathetic villain. Hes effectively a camus if a camus was foul mouthed and more thuggish and that works for him, and is rather endearing in its own way when he acts concerned for his little sister and does the ‘im a thug who hugs kittens when no ones looking’ routine which i like when its done well. point being, he could have been a generic thug but hes a lot more interesting for not being one. However, his general pointlessness to the story, aside from giving us an indication that shock of shocks surtrs a shitty king and an excuse to escort ylgir around places who also does jack shit in the story... heroes is always going to suffer from having to compress its story telling but that fact they waste so much time with helbindi and ylgir and hrud when so much of what they do is either unnecessary to the story or themes present in book 2 or could have been given to other characters and make those characters better for it... helbindi gets to be up here for sympathy points and favoritism, but i am stretching here for ya mate.

thrasir: stronger character wise then helbindi, an interesting relation to lif of enemies turned into close friends over a shared trauma and servitude, plays into some of the same strengths of hel and lif that make them so engaging, yadda, yadda, yadda. So why is she below helbindi? because she doesnt get to do anything, and only starts to get interesting right before her death. If she had been given a bigger role comparable to lif, or just more time to stew in her own motivations she’d easily surpass helbindi. its also not helped that thrasirs own desire to resurrect her brother is similar to veronicas pre established selfishness, which isnt as strong a contrast as lifs selfishness and guilt against alfonses character. Her relation to lif does hint at a stronger sense of kidness and morality instilled within her because of that relation, which is interesting and would make a strong contrast against veronica, but again we get like five seconds of it before shes killed off and then a little more of it again at the end. Deserved more time on screen then she got, and would have probably been number 2 here if she had gotten it. 

veronica: bratty child becomes evil sorcerer emperor, more at 11. I like the concept of veronica, its something fes never really touched on much aside from maybe a little bit with julius with his more childish antics. Veronica however cranks that up a lot more, shes impatient and gets bored easily, she wants more friends but in a selfish ‘friend is someone who does everything I want right?’ way, shes emblas ruler and she has the emotional maturity of an evil 10 year old and i just kinda like it. Especially since she tempers it with an air of sophistication and intelligence, much like the classic evil sorcerers fe loves to utilize in villain roles, and it helps balance out the bratty child from being too annoying in the villain role. It helps lend a sense of her trying to present herself as a grown up for the respect and authority that brings, well simultaneously maintain all the perks of being a kid who gets everything she wants. It’s a shame then that the narrative keeps sidelining her, either by focusing on other villains, her god damn brother getting in the fucking way, or with the overhanging implications of magic dragon possession being the root cause of her behavior. I can forgive the magic dragon possession though since that is an fe staple and could works towards more interesting character aspects rather then undercutting her. Regardless, she sure is great when things are actually about her, and i really wish things would get back to being about her.

Laegjarn: solely here because she loves her sister, shes rather flat as a character otherwise. It would have been one thing if she displayed a sense of brutality instilled in her by a childhood being raised by surtr, only dropping the shell when it came to her sister and reigning herself in for the sake of that one familial bond she treasures... instead shes just kinda nice and loves her sister, and yet still works for surtr for some fucking reason. @agoddamn and @ezralahm mention an aspect of learned helplessness to xanders character in fates that people tend to gloss over (heaven knows why, cause its fairly in your face even in the english translation), and that should be something that comes across in laegjarn, but its doesnt really. not as much as it should anyways. Another victim of book 2′s pointless writing.

loki: evil sexy lady with big boobies and a one leg cutout tights pants thing. heres someone who can transform into anyone, and yet she never really does anything with it. oh she does ‘things’, just not things that have much point to them, or really feel like they fit into some larger scheme. she’d be right at home as a recurring villain in an episodic story, coming up with some inane scheme for todays episode that gets foiled and she gets sent ‘blasting off again’. I dont necessarily hate the sexy seductress character, the noire bombshells and the like, they can be fun when done well. loki just doesnt do it well, coming off as more grating and annoying then tempting honestly, and as a villain she lacks anykind of actual menace. My feelings on her are similar to my feelings on aversa honestly, heres someone who should be so cool and threatening, a real menace to the heroes using their skills and abilities behind the scenes to move threats against the heroes, never taking to the field unless they can benefit from it and have an assured chance of victory or safety... but then they never actually do anything, as any of the actions possibly attributable to them either happen offscreen or probably would have happened without them doing anything. Loki and aversa could have stayed home twiddling their thumbs and nothing would change, and thats the real shame about them. Doesn’t help they aren’t particularly fun or entertaining as villains either due to lackluster writing.

surtr: garon 2.0, but with even less complexity. Well garon may have been a blatantly evil prick, he at least had backstory that provoked some degree of complexity and even sympathy, both to him and those hurt by his evil dragon possession personality change. Surtr lacks even that, acting more like a petty thug given way to much power then an imposing ruler. He garon without the backstory complexity, and in a way hes walhart without the air of regality and charisma that helped elevate walhart from being god awful in his own right. And well it could have been interesting if the story made any attempts to comment on that or work it into a central story theme or flow of some sort, it doesnt really do that and instead treats him as if he has and indeed deserves the same credibility and impression walhart or garon or any of the other fire emblem emperor kings have left. But the game doesnt ever actually work for that with him. Hes the emeperor, so he automatically deserves respect as a villain. and thats... so typical of book 2′s writing.

laevatein: shes boring as sin, even with her relation to her sister and the tragedy of losing her. Like her sister, she would have benefited from an impression of learned helplessness but the game never really bothers with it. moving on because i can barely give a shit about her.

bruno: this mother fucker... an annoying detraction that overtakes veronicas spotlight and screentime, an excuse for alfonse wangst that never really lands, pointless and useless... the benefit of book 2 and 3 so far has been his reduced importance, but i fully expect him to come roaring back to steal veronicas position once the story shifts back to an area she should be the focus of. the only thing he has going for him is the sense of a camus struggling with dragon possession but thats more so used for alfonse wangst then it is for anything constructive. What do i mean by alfonse wangst? I mean angst that really serves no narrative purpose then for the sake of unnecessary melodrama, as opposed to informing us anything about the characters or themes of the story. he makes veronica look worse, his drama with alfonse is a waste of time, and he really provides nothing else then a recurring boss fight and get out of jail free card for the story. I’m putting him below laevatein because well i dont give much of a shit about her, she atleast doesnt actively annoy me and still had the potential for something. Bruno however? the story would be better off without him. So fuck him.

[slothcritic]

Dragon Ball Z Abridged - Episode 4 Review

Hit-or-miss introduction makes way for some golden moments.

The opening skit for Snakeway to Heaven has a satisfactory comedic weight to it, though upon re-watching it for this review, I noticed an editing mistake I had never noticed before, despite becoming a fan of the series in 2012. When Goku falls off Snake Way, the scene actually freezes on that frame. It wouldn't be noticeable if the truck itself hadn't frozen as well. Small gripe but I thought it was an interesting observation to share.

[Title Sequence]

Goku's scream carries over into the first few seconds of the intro and resumes near the last few seconds, which I found to be a well played editing decision.

Once Goku has stopped falling, we're treated to an amusing take on the filler ogres from hell. The blue one is given the Swedish Hansel-und-Gretel accent while the red one speaks like a German or Austrian. And puritan as ever, KaiserNeko made sure to use the original, unedited footage. It would’ve been funny to see them maybe have a scene or two with the ogres wearing their different HFIL shirts, or maybe a bit more fun poked at the Ocean Dub, but no such luck in this scene.

TFS doesn't spend too much time on this scene at all, really. It’s filler, and so nothing here really matters to the story aside from laugh-factor. The comedic nature of this first scene is that it’s rushed. Goku swindles the two ogres out of a fight, like he’s trying to swindle the show into skipping this filler arc, as he immediately guns it for the exit... and then stops?

It would've been a much more emphatic punchline if the scene had changed right here. Instead we have an awkward stop-and-go motion to the scene they're trying to orchestrate and it feels stilted. A lot of this scene after Goku finds the exit I find to be entirely unneeded. Raditz has already been established as being in Other World so the callback here wasn't necessary, the special King Yemma fruit could be argued for having no plot relevance as it never existed in the manga, and we didn't really need that post-Goku scene to get the hint that these ogres were very chummy with each other when it came to subjects like oil wrestling and speedos.

But then, where would they put that great joke about the Blood Fountain? And the small dialogue about Dabura I did find risible as a fan of the original DBZ, despite my usual curmudgeonly take on yet-to-be-established jokes. Like many things, this does get much better as the series continues, eventually turning some moments of sequence-breaking into moments of well-crafted foreshadowing. This is just a funny pointless joke, and a nod to fans of DBZ, that has no impact on the actual story of DBZA itself.

Again, this isn't too much of a big deal. Just a whole work-with-what-you've-got bizarre scenario likely due to bizarre source material. Yet this was all deemed funny enough to edit, voice and keep in the episode instead of trimming it out like the other 90% of this mini-arc. I'm not convinced the presentation was done to par, but I do feel that the inclusion of "Goku in Hell" is necessary for the sake of tying loose ends together. Also, it would've been a far more egregious decision to have that cold open end in a do-nothing cliff hanger. So, a goofy scene and perhaps iffy writing, but not terrible.

We then return to the person who has so far been the breadwinner of the series, and Piccolo hasn't let up on either the humor or Gohan. Kind of a contrast to how somber he is in the show. It's not whack-a-doodle humor, it's exaggerated frustration and exasperation, which lands almost dead-center on my humor nexus.

But even better than Piccolo has to be this next scene - Debatably the first "meme" or seriously quotable moment in the show's history: Popo's Pecking Order.

On paper this doesn't look like it'd be necessarily funny, but when you attach to it a very do-nothing character like Mr Popo and turn him into a sadistic dictator, combined with the special emphasis and excellent delivery of the line, it's simply outstanding, and raises the bar for this entire episode.

Now I've said before that the source material of Z shouldn't factor into the end product that is DBZA. If I were to show this episode to my mother, I shouldn't have to show her all 291 episodes of Z so she can understand it. The show should be able stand on its own. That's not to say parody should have zero factor in the writing of this, or that there should be zero references at all, ever. By god what a silly thing to imply. But people can still enjoy Spaceballs even if they haven't seen Star Wars.

However, in the case of Mr Popo, DBZA does a good job of setting up Popo in the same way Z does. He initially speaks in a low, subdued tone, and is spoken of by Kami as some kind of adviser, or perhaps a respected peer, but as someone who is indirectly and respectfully implied to be below him. After all, it's called Kami's Lookout, not Popo's Lookout, and Kami is literally regarded as "The Guardian of Earth" while Popo just appears to be... there.

That all changes the second Kami leaves the outdoor area and Popo is entrusted with the reigns of the new Z Fighters. LISTEN UP, MAGGOTS!

The Krillin Owned Count also chimes three in this scene, and shows its first signs of picking up momentum.

Back on Snake Way, Goku gets eaten by the head of snake way, which leads into Jadoshin's palace. This is such a quick, cheesy, quirky but funny edit that I'm not sure what to say beyond I enjoyed it. It just hits you and then boom, you're in her castle.

The joke of Jadoshin being voiced by Solid Snake (Princess Snake, Solid Snake, on Snake Way) seems like a bold strategy but I think it's one of the better jokes they've committed to that ended up being really good, at least this early on. The voice even lends itself to the awkward dialogue that would've simply lost its charm or fallen flat otherwise.

Unrelated, but one of my favorite lines from the dub happens in this scene, where Jadoshin's attendant simply says "I've got something to show you. And it's my gun.", and then kills herself with it. I didn't expect to see that in this scene, but a small part of me did hope.

When Goku finishes up in the hot springs (with a Metal Gear Solid box gag to boot) and tries to leave, Jadoshin then states that she wants Goku inside her. Goku is confused, of course, and smash cut to Goku flying for his life from a massive green fire-breathing snake trying to eat him.

Jadoshin however still has the voice of Solid Snake even in this form, complete with periodic grunts as they maneuver through the air. This eventually transitions into Jadoshin saying waka-waka, and the backdrop changes into a Pac-Man map. The Pac-Man skit was perhaps a bit overdone, with Goku finding meat instead of the normal fruit, but on the whole this was a very "solid" scene.

During the Ozaru scene, I feel like Piccolo just screaming "MOOOOOOOON!" in the DBZA Kai version is funnier than the "Stop mocking me!" we got in DBZA proper. Also, donkey kong barrel, really? It's not bad, but it's an "oh, brother" moment, like hearing a very bad pun.

When Gohan transforms back into his human (or Half-Saiyan technically) form, his junk is censored with a Dragon Ball. This is an interesting contrast in philosophy over the years, as KaiserNeko explained the decision "to not censor baby dicks" in a Episode Breakdown livestream on the Broly Abdridged movie, where Broly's baby wiener can be seen uncensored in a few scenes of that movie.

The episode ends with Goku continuing down Snake Way, having tied Jadoshin up into a tangled ball, prompted the GAME OVER screen and someone yelling "Princess Snaaaaaake!"

Conclusion

Despite my lackluster thoughts on how Hell was handled, this episode had a lot going for it compared to it's predecessors! Most of the episode was spent on two strong scenes, and while I didn't think the Ozaru scene was anything special, it didn't feel out of place or off-kilter, but provided more insight and I suppose world-building into the relationship between Piccolo and Gohan and the constant reminder that they're training to eventually face off against the Saiyans. This is further reinforced by Stinger #2 with Nappa and Vegeta en route to Earth.

This was almost opposite to Episode 3, which I felt had strong bookends. While I didn't find the end of this episode to be bad, it was simply "alright" when compared to the Popo and Jadoshin scenes. Characters are starting to have stronger internal identities instead of simply being parodies of their original counterparts. Though it is noteworthy, and rather obvious, that this only applies to characters with speaking lines. Tien, Yamcha and Chiaotzu made their first appearances but had nothing to say. Maybe it would have been cluttered or detracted from the pacing of the Popo scene, but it may prove challenging to properly attach sentimentality to these characters in the short few episodes they have before the inevitable happens. 

Because y'know, nobody watched Dragon Ball.

Score: 73

Passing Thoughts

I liked that Stinger #1 dealt with the actual ramifications of DESTROYING THE MOON unlike the series proper did. I guess it was just no diff for the Dragon Ball world?

"He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain." "Looks fine to me." "IT USED TO BE WATER!"

"I killed everything here with my bare hands. Including the bear hands." -Pictured in the top left of the frame are actual bear hands.

"Stop grunting, it's creepy!"

"CLOTHES BEAM!" and “That is easily my most metro attack.”

[mrjoelgarcia9]

Let’s Talk #DCSuperHeroGirls: Season 5 & Final Thoughts

After five seasons, the YouTube series DC Super Hero Girls has come to an end.

Like with fans of Teen Titans, the fans of this show are disappointed that it is being replaced with a reboot.

For my Final Thoughts on the fifth and final season, as well as the web show itself, feel free to keep reading. There will be spoilers.

As I briefly stated in my original post, the fifth season had a downgrade in animation, being fairly obvious that it was cheaply made on Flash. The characters now looked like sticker cutouts, movement suddenly became very limited, shadows all but ceased to exist, and the show heavily recycled the backgrounds. It now looked like a low budget Happy Tree Friends.

The season also featured the departure of Mae Whitman as Batgirl/Barbara Gordon, only voicing the role for an episode held back from the fourth season as well as the film Legends of Atlantis. Taking over the role was Ashlyn Selich, who had previously voiced the character in the LEGO films Brain Drain and Super-Villain High. Selich is also known as the voice of Midge in Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse and more recently Carol Pingrey on The Loud House.

Alongside the usual standalone episodes, the fifth season had an ongoing narrative about a mysterious new teacher called Dr. Seid (AKA Darkseid).

It clearly wanted to do something different by bringing in one of DC’s most famous villains into the show. Whenever he has shown up outside of the comics, he has always fought Superman (either by himself or with others). The only notable exception has been the time he fought the Teen Titans (in Teen Titans Go!, where he was voiced by the great “Weird Al” Yankovic). His disguise made him look like a normal human, with the only major hint of his true identity being the Omega logo on his glasses. Having these heroes confront him could have been a refreshing change of pace.

Compared to the first four seasons, the fifth season was massively dull. The Series Finale was also disappointing.

When a character like Darkseid is brought into a story, it tends to become far more dramatic and have higher stakes. Due to the show’s heavily lighthearted tone, he just felt out of place. When he makes his presence known in the Series Finale, Harley just keeps asking him about the exam rather than be shocked or surprised by his sudden transformation. It just completely ruins the moment.

Otherwise, the rest of the season was mediocre. While the voice acting was still great, the dull story arc combined with the cheap animation and lackluster episodes just made the season a chore to watch.

Since the TV reboot will be premiering sometime this year, it seems unlikely that the web show will return for a sixth season.

The web adaptation of DC Super Hero Girls may not have been the greatest DC show around, but it did highlight some obscure heroes like Katana, Bumblebee, and Green Lantern/Jessica Cruz as well as present unique interpretations of villains like Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. 

It could have highlighted more of DC’s female superheroes, such as Black Widow or Zatanna, so they could become just as popular as Wonder Woman and Supergirl. The only possible reason the show emphasized the female villains, most of which were Batman villains, over the heroes is because sadly more people would probably buy a Harley Quinn doll than a Zatanna doll.

(As a reminder, this show solely existed to promote dolls made by Mattel.)

This show was DC’s most successful web series. While their past web series were based on existing TV series, such as Gotham Girls, Lobo, or Smallville Legends, DC Super Hero Girls was an original series that became popular enough to spawn multiple direct-to-video films, comics, TV specials, and even a LEGO spin-off series of films and shorts.

The upcoming TV reboot from Lauren Faust may seem reminiscent of Super Best Friends Forever, her previous DC production, but not much has been revealed outside of #TheLateBatsby short screened before Teen Titans Go! To The Movies this past Summer as well as a short clip seen in a recent Cartoon Network 2019 preview highlighting all of their new and returning shows.

Fans of the web series may be disappointed that the new lineup omits Harley and Ivy. According to a synopsis from DC, Harley will be a “teen-fiend” who also happens to be Barbara’s "bestie”. We all have to wait and see how those two and other villains, such as Catwoman, Killer Frost, and Star Sapphire, will be presented in the reboot.

On the bright side, there is at least one more piece of media left from the web adaption to be released: The graphic novel Spaced Out, a compilation of the 2017-2018 comic book series of the same name.

The complete web series of DC Super Hero Girls can be seen on YouTube.

The TV reboot will be airing Cartoon Network sometime this year.

Until next time, thank you for reading!