#It’s the only way to have a spin-off sequel and I will have nothing else. I saw boruto. and a certain dogboy sequel.

[bbq-potato-chip]

look I’d never want a bleach sequel spin-off about the guys as adults BUT if there had to be one I personally believe it should just be Uryū Chad ichigo and renji being like those guys from king of the hill like this

It’s the only way

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 1

Welcome to the sequel, but not the epilogue! It a bit confusing and I'm sorry. Essentially this story takes place before the sobriety celebration in the last chapter of Icarus. Which I would absolutely read first if you haven't yet. It's 25 chapters of Steddie on tour.

The epilogue takes place SIX years AFTER Gareth's celebration. And is only two chapters. It is an unmasking of The Fallen. I wrote when I was trying to flesh out Shane, Spence, and Simon.

Summary: After a grueling tour, Steve wants nothing more than take a vacation with his boyfriend and just be regular people for three months. Only Eddie isn't just anyone, he's the frontman for the world's most popular heavy metal band. So Chrissy and Robin come long to act as beards (provided they keep their hands off of each other long enough). Join the fruity four as they travel the world looking for the spooky, the kooky, and the all together weird.

~

The tour was finally over and Steve was ready to collapse. He couldn’t wait to be himself again.

It would be two weeks with Jim Hopper and the rest of his band to deprogram them from their alter egos then a three month trip with Robin and Eddie.

Everyone else had made plans too. Spence and Nadia were going to see a few of the national parks. They were going to start with the ones in California and then go from there. They were planning on making it a yearly thing, if they lasted that long.

His friends really hoped they did. One of them needed a healthy relationship that wasn’t kept in the shadows.

Steve showed up first and waited for his bandmates to trickle in. Shane arrived first. With coffee for all six of them. Robin and Hopper included. Steve gratefully took his syrupy sweet iced coffee with a grateful smile.

Shane was doing better too. He had started therapy too after talking with Gareth about his. Gareth had told him that it was better to start when the cracks were beginning to show, then after the damn had burst. And Shane had really taken that to heart.

Him and Gareth were taking a vacation together later in the summer. To places where drinking and partying wasn’t the only way to have fun. Both their therapists recommended it, to have a friend with them who was going through a similar journey to help keep them on the path to recovery.

Simon came in next. He gratefully took his black coffee with two sugars from Shane and flopped on the sofa next to Steve. He was the only one of them that didn’t have plans. But privately Steve thought that was a good thing. He needed to learn to be more independent and not rely on other members of the band so much.

Then it was Robin and Hopper together, they were talking about business things that made Steve’s head spin. He knew it was a necessary part of what they did, but he was glad he someone else to do it for him.

They each took their coffees from Shane with grateful mumbles and sat down in each the arm chairs.

Spence arrived last and looking rather harried.

“If I see one more out of state driver thinking that they know how to drive on the instate better than Californians I might actually commit murder.”

Shane held up a white Americano and Spence broke down into tears. “I love you, man!”

Spence gave him a huge hug and Shane just patted his back awkwardly. Once Spence stopped crying he went to go sit on the sofa with Steve and Simon.

“Sorry about that,” he said with a sniff. “It’s just been a horrific morning and the sweet smell of coffee was like balm on my soul.”

Steve was about to ask what was wrong, when Hopper cleared his throat. “All right, everyone. I’ve made everyone videos that I want all you of you to study for the next couple of hours and then we’ll slowly work on deprogramming all of you.”

They buckled down and got to work. Steve kept an eye on Spence though. And when they both got a break he pulled his drummer aside.

“Hey, bud,” Steve asked soothingly, “what’s wrong?”

Spence ran his fingers through his long curls and sighed. “Nadia has to go back to India for a few months because her grandfather is dying. Only she’s not sure how long it will be so most likely the vacation is off.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “And you’re not going with her, why?”

Spence raised his head and blinked back at him. “What?”

“You’re a multi-millionaire, dude,” Steve pointed out, “you could go with her to India. Meet her family, enjoy and learn a whole new country and culture.”

Spence’s eyes went wide. “I–I didn’t think of that...” he made a dive for his phone but Hopper was faster.

“It can wait until you’re done for today,” he growled. “You have a lot to do before you can contact people in your life.”

Spence blushed a dark red.

“Holy fucking hell, Spencer Peters,” Hopper snapped. “I told you not go see her. And ya did it anyway.”

“I figured I was okay,” Spence muttered. “After all I don’t talk as Azrael.”

Hopper smacked the back of his head. “Yeah and how did you explain your rough voice?”

“Traveler’s cough?” Spence said with a wince and a shrug.

Hopper squeezed the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb and sighed. “Don’t do that again, yes?”

Spence nodded, wide eyed.

Things progressed naturally from there. Every day, them becoming more like themselves and less like two separate people.

On the last day of “training” Robin came bouncing up to Steve.

“So...” she said nervously, “Vickie wants us to take a fourth on our vacation so it doesn’t look like I’m chaperoning you. Preferably another woman.”

Steve sighed.

He really should have seen that coming. Even though Robin/Celeste are known homosexuals, having another woman there would dispel the rumors that Eddie and Steve were dating.

“It would have to be someone straight,” he said, resigned.

“Would another chaotic bisexual work?” Robin asked chewing nervously on her lower lip.

“Chrissy.”

Robin grinned. “Yeah. It’ll be awesome because like me she was friends with the band before she became their manager so her and Eddie are really close, like you and me and with her with us, you ‘dating’ a manager isn’t as gold digger-esque as dating a international rockstar. Plus, she really likes the spooky and supernatural stuff too, so she wouldn’t be a killjoy about it–”

Steve grabbed her by the shoulders and said firmly, “Breathe.”

Robin took a massive inhale and gulped.

“I don’t mind Chrissy coming along,” he said with a wry smile, “but are you sure you don’t just want her along because you have a crush on her?”

She opened her mouth to refute it, but Steve raised an eyebrow and she slammed her mouth shut.

“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly. “Just know you cannot do anything even remotely couple-y with her otherwise that will completely counter the whole reason she’s there in the first place.”

Robin raised her hands in surrender. “I promise to keep my hands to myself until we get home.”

“Then of course she can come.”

“Yay!” Robin cried jumping up and down.

~

Steve was packing for his trip and was starting to worry that maybe this was a bad idea. He hadn’t thought about how it would look with him spending so much money on clothes and accommodation. Travel and food made sense on a PA’s salary, but staying in the places that Eddie would want to stay in without being labeled a gold digger was starting to weigh on his mind.

Which is of course when Eddie came to his rescue without him even needing to say a word.

The man in question came bounding into his room, him long since having had a key to the place, even well before he knew Steve was Abbadon. It was just now, he also had the biolock to Steve’s studio, too.

“Baby,” Eddie said giddily. “I found these haunted bed and breakfast places we can stay in on trip. With motels on standby in case they really are haunted. What do you think?”

Eddie let out a startled squawk when Steve tackled him onto the bed and completely ravished him.

When they were lying in bed afterward Eddie asked what that was about.

“Like, I loved the welcome,” he hedged. “But damn sweetheart, what did I do to deserve that in particular?”

Steve blushed and tucked his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “I was worried about it looking like I have too munch money for a PA or looking like a gold digger, then you come in with a plan of small bed and breakfasts and motels and I honestly couldn’t love you more in that moment.”

Eddie blinked for a moment as he took that in.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “you’ve gone on more lavish vacations with me before, what’s all the worry for now?”

“It’s just after the tour and the press accusing me of riding on your coattails and only being your friend for your money...”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie cooed, pulling Steve in impossibly closer. “I’d forgotten about that bullshit. Of course you’d be worried about that.”

“And then you came barreling into my intrusive thoughts,” Steve huffed in faux annoyance, “and just by being your sweet lovable self, scared off all my doubts and worries. Which is why I absolutely could not keep my hands off of you.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “I approve.”

Steve giggled and rolled on top of him to shower him with kisses. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby,” Eddie murmured. “So the B&Bs are a hit?”

Steve sat up, straddling his hips. “Yeah, Eddie, it’s a hit. It’s perfect and low key. Most of those places wouldn’t even recognize you.” He paused for a moment. “Wait... that’s why you picked it isn’t?”

Eddie blushed and shoved a lock of hair in front of his face, nodding shyly.

Steve started kissing him again and again. “I think it’s a perfect idea, honey. I love that you thought of everything. Now we can absolutely go and everyone can have a good time. Thanks to you.”

“I want to take all the credit for be smart,” Eddie said bashfully, “but I was just going for as much fun and as silly as possible.”

Steve kissed him fiercely. “Well, still take credit, babe, because you cinched it for everyone.”

“Mmk,” Eddie said, then he grabbed Steve waist and flipped them over. “For being so sweet, I think it’s time I repaid you.” He slid down Steve’s body, hands roaming over sensitive skin the further down he went.

Steve let out a gasp as Eddie’s mouth enveloped around his dick. It would be sometime before either of them got out of bed.

~

The day of their departure came and all their bandmates came out to see them off. Simon had decided to take a wine tour of Italy and France to brush up on his language skills. An endeavor Robin heartily endorsed.

Steve secretly hoped that he would find a nice European woman to settle down with and get married. He could bring her back to LA so that it didn’t break up the band, but...

Yeah, he knew it was pipe dream. Simon still got too far into his head especially with his anxiety.

They hugged and kissed everyone goodbye and started their journey of all things, spooky, kooky, and the bizarre at Alcatraz Prison.

The long white corridors and echoing chambers was exactly what they wanted in a place they visited.

They all listened with rapt attention as their tour guide went on about the notorious prisoners and the daring escape that to that day was still unsolved. They even talked about how the Mythbusters had proven that they could have survived.

That night in their first haunted bed and breakfast, they pulled up the episode on Chrissy’s laptop and they all huddled around it to watch.

Then the girls went into one room and Eddie and Steve went into the other. They probably could have afforded to have all of them having their own room, but Eddie and Steve wanted the privacy. The one place they could act couple-y.

“Just think!” Eddie said excitedly. “All the mobsters that were interned there. Machine Gun Kelly! Al Capone! Fucking Al Capone! Whitey Bulger!”

Steve nodded. “And that famous escape from the Anglin Brothers and Frank Morris! God, that place was creepy as hell though.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “If that’s what solitary is like it should be against the law. What the honest fuck.”

“Just don’t commit any murders and I think we should be okay,” Steve assured him, rubbing his arm gently.

Eddie cocked his head to the side and put his finger to his lips thoughtfully. “No promises!”

Steve laughed and tackled his boyfriend to the bed. “God I love you.” He kissed Eddie deeply. “How quiet do you think you can be?”

“Right...” Eddie snorted, “like I’m the loud one, Mr. Screamer.” He casually flipped the two of them over, Steve giving a surprised yelp. “Do you think you can be quiet or do you think we need to gag you?”

Steve’s eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. He never thought he’d like the idea of a gag, but with Eddie, he was learning all sorts of new things about himself.

“Ooh...” Eddie said with a grin. “Someone just bluescreened over that suggestion.” Steve could only nodded. “You stay right there, pumpkin, let me go find something to gag you with.”

Steve nodded again, even more enthusiastically then before. He watched eagerly as Eddie went digging through their luggage, hoping he found something quickly.

“Ah ha!” Eddie cried, holding up his prize. It was a blank bandanna with white skulls on it. “This’ll do!”

He came bounding back up the bed and tied it over Steve’s mouth. “Now you just lie there, princess. I’m going to take good care of you tonight.”

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

I was going to start from scratch (meaning just putting my permanent list down and have ten new people request to be tagged), but there are a couple from my permanent list that aren't on the list for this one, and as I really don't want to have to go line by line (I will fuck up and do it wrong), I'm just keeping the list from Icarus across the trilogy, sorry!

If you are on this list and want to be removed from this and future sequels, let me know!

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

I am better

Poe Dameron x fem!Reader

A/N: I kinda roasted Rey at the end. I can't help it, I hate her. The only reason I tortured myself with the sequels was literally only because Oscar Isaac as Poe lol.

Quick summary: At a conversation between you, Finn and Poe about the old Clone Wars, you spoke faster than thinking, saying Anakin Skywalker is the best pilot in the Galaxy. Poe did not like that.

Dead dove do not eat - you'll get exactly what's in the tags!

Tags: nsfw, PinV, dom Poe, punishment, cockwarming, kind of dark Poe, jealous Poe.

A/N 2: Just realized the pic looks perfect. Finn is like: "Girl, you better run..." and Poe looks like: "Excuse me? What did you just say?!"

Sometimes it's better to think before speaking. It all started harmless, Finn, Poe and you were talking about the Clone Wars. Poe was worshipping the Clones, wishing they would be still around, Finn was drooling over Ahsoka Tano...and you? You were all over Anakin Skywalker, admiring everything about him.

"Anakin Skywalker? Come on, that's overkill!" Finn snorted, looking down at the Dejarik round they were playing.

"Why? Just because you're worshipping Ahsoka?" You chuckled, watching Finns dejarik player getting slamdunked.

"Ugh, you and your crushes..." Poe scoffed and leaned forward, preparing his round.

"Atleast we have one individual we love and not millions." you backfired at him, grinning cheekily.

"I think Poe chooses the Clones because all the other ladies are ugly and Ahsoka is the only sexy looking one." Finn nudged Poe, making him give a confused expression.

"Poe, how about Obi Wan?" you asked.

"Nah. He's way too noble, way too jedi-like..." he retorted with an disgusted expression.

"Wait! What about Bo Katan? Isn't she someone you'd be into, mate?" Finn suggested.

"I would even arrange the date between you two." You chuckled.

Poe just looked at you two, surprised but uncaring "You two are absolutely unfair, you know that?"

You three kept playing dejarik for a bit before Finn spoke up again.

"Hey, but what about you? Why Anakin Skywalker? Is it because he turned bad and you're kinda into bad boys?" Finn grinned at you.

"No!" you smiled, turning your head to hide the slight red on your cheeks.

"Don't be shy! Come on, spill it." Poe teased, giving you a cocky grin.

"Alright, alright, you won. I like him because he was the best in everything. Best at fighting, strong in the force." you leaned back in your seat.

"Wait, nothing else? Really?" Poe asked curiously.

"He invented the spinning." Finn joked.

You laughed hard. "And he's the best pilot in the Galaxy." you retorted but gulped as realization hit you.

You looked back up at Finn and Poe, Finn had his hand on his chin, trying to suppress the laughter threatening to come out of him. At this point you were glad at sitting opposite from them as you saw Poe's jaw tensing.

"Pheww, okay guys, I gotta go to Chewie and talk with him about something." Finn broke the silence, preparing to stand up.

"Wait, Finn! We didn't even finish our dejarik round!" You gave him an almost pleading look.

"I- uhh, I'm sure you and Poe can finish it just fine, right mate?" Finn chuckled nervously, giving Poe a pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we will get this over with and see who's the better one." Poe gave you a scowl.

"See? That's why I chose Ahsoka!" Finn grinned, finding the situation amusing.

"Anaking was Ahsoka's master!" you retorted, seeing Poe giving you a warning glance.

"See you guys later!" Finn waved and stood up, walking off, leaving only Poe and you alone.

"Poe...listen, I didn't mean to--" You got cut off by Poe, who stood up and made his way to you.

"I'll teach you better." he grabbed your arm and lead you out of the Millennium Falcon, leading you towards a small freighter nearby. Once inside and ensurring they were alone, he lead you to the cargohold and locked the entrance of the ship.

-----

Now you were on Poe's lap, his cock buried deep inside you, he held you firmly in place, not moving a little bit.

"Repeat what you said." Poe demanded lowly.

You squirmed, desperately trying to get atleast some friction "I-I'm sorry..."

"No, no, no, tell me. I wanna hear it coming out of your mouth again."

"Anakin-... is the b-best pilot in the Galaxy-..." you tried to move again but Poe had an iron grip that made it impossible.

"But is he really? Or is there someone better, hm?" Poe asked, holding you in place.

"Yes, you." you replied, making Poe's hips move a little bit before stopping once more. The little friction he gave felt so good, causing you to whimper after he stopped.

"So you admit I am the best and Skywalker is nothing compared to me?" he asked again.

"Poeee, please move. It's killing me..." you begged, feeling how slippy everything down there is.

"Answer." he tutted.

"Anakin is nothing compared to you. You're the best, Poe. Only you." you whimpered needily.

Poe chuckled, "See? It wasn't that hard now, was it?" he started moving slowly, only enough to make you crave for more.

Your eyes lulled back, you wanted Poe to move faster "Please faster."

"Is there something else you might tell me about Skywalker?" Poe asked, his pace increased slightly.

You knew exactly why he asked you that, he knew your mind was clouded with pleasure and thinking wasn't your speciality rightnow.

"He's handsome.." you slipped out.

"Handsome, huh?" Poe repeated, his hips stopped again.

"No- I mean- you-you're handsome. Anakin's not." You stuttered, trying to correct yourself.

"Damn right I am." he started moving again.

"If you ever say someone is better than me again, I will make sure to fuck you so hard you will forget all their names and only remember mine. Now enjoy the ride, honey."

Poe's thrusts increased even more, moving you up and down simutaniously.

Your orgasm approached so fast, it was only mere minutes before it ripped through your body. Poe's orgasm came right after yours. He grabbed a rag and cleaned both of you up while you put your clothes back on.

Poe and you left the freighter, walking back to the Millennium Falcon as Finn approached

"Heyy, did you two finally got an agreement?" Finn asked, looking at you two.

"Yep. We uh- we came to an agreement that Anakin is better at..." you trailed off, looking at Poe who was looking back at you expectantly.

"He is better with his lightsaber than Rey. I mean- come on, Anakin got training and Rey didn't, right? Having powers without getting trained is no right to call themselves a Jedi, right?" You chuckled nervously, your eyes flicking towards Poe for a split second.

"Damn, girl, you're really into the mood to fight anyone today, eh?" Finn laughed.

You glanced back to Poe, seeing him inhale heavily and closing his eyes briefly.

Noticing this, you quickly nudged Finn's shoulder, "Hey Finn, wanna finish our Dejarik round? I beat Poe, but the others are still in it." you urged him.

"Alright. Let's do this." Finn agreed casually and started walking.

You walked closely beside him, looking over your shoulder to see Poe shooting you another warning and his expression turning dark.

Oh no...

[formulaorange]

2023 Fall Anime

This is honestly a loaded season full of new shows based on relatively new manga. Lots to look forward to

Spy x Family - Season 2 One of the most fun SJ series that have come out in a while. Season 1 was killer, high hopes for season 2.

Goblin Slayer 2 I didn't realize they were even making a second season. This was such a killer series. I'm really hoping they don't fall into the many mid-tier fantasy tropes out there in anime right now. I thought the appeal of the show was really Goblin Slayer himself and less about the lackeys along the way. So we'll see how it goes.

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End This is definitely one of my highly anticipated series. It's about an elf who was part of the Hero's party and her life after he dies. (Since elves live longer) Definitely a darker take on fantasy but has some really solid fantasy and adventure vibes.

Rising of the Shield Hero - Season 3 Season 2 was pretty disappointing and slow. While this looks like it'll be more fast paced, it does look like a tournament arc of sorts. I know some aren't a fan of that kind of arc, but honestly I think it's exactly what this series needs to pick things up again. We'll see.

The Faraway Paladin - Season 2 This was legitimately one of my favourite fantasy series. I thought it was really well written and didn't rush things like other series. I'm looking forward to this season.

Sequels/Continuations: Eminence in Shadow - Season 2 killer series with an anti-hero main character. Definitely worth checking out. After-School Hanako-Kun Hanako-kun spin off Dr. Stone Season 3 - Part 2 One of the best novel concept series with nothing else in it's genre to compare to. Definitely didn't drop the ball on the recent seasons and still worth watching. Dead Mount Death Play - Part 2 One that I didn't particularly enjoy, but has a decent sized manga following. Tokyo Revengers - Tenjiku Arc The continuation of the series. Might be just me but it feels like the series fell off after the first season. The Saint's Magic Power is Omnipotent - Season 2 A more mature take on fantasy isekai that just started to get into romance at the end of last season. A solid combo of shoujo genres. The Ancient Magus' Bride - Season 2 Part 2 One that I haven't had a change to check out yet but have only heard good things about. Hypnosismic - Season 2 a weirdly addictive musical/rap series. Unique characters and honestly solid rap battles. One I'll be enjoying. -- Related - Paradox Live - Music battle with what looks to be the same style of animation and solid character design. Definitely worth looking at if you're a fan of Hypmic. The Seven Deadly Sins: Four Knights of the Apocalypse A sequel of SDS. Looks like it could be a fun watch for the fans of the series. New:

Shangri La Frontier A new manga fantasy series. This may be a horrible way to describe but it is what it is - a new age SAO- full dive fantasy game. A gamer who only plays shit games, gets into a new massively popular MMORPG and is op. One that I'm excited for because it ticks all the fantasy game boxes I like.

Undead Unluck A relatively new manga series that gained a lot of traction in the last year or two. A gory action comedy that's super chaotic and a lot of fun.

Shy Brand new hero manga series about a shy girl and her anxieties and struggles going into the hero world who grows and gains confidence as she becomes a better hero.

Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions This is a manga series that I have kept forgetting the name of so never got a chance to read but all the covers for the manga look phenomenal. Likely the anime doesn't do him justice but it is what it is. Essentially sherlock in anime form. A PI with issues and the wholesome police detective work together to solve crime. Other New Series: Green - Fantasy Pink - Romance Red - Action Purple - Drama The Kingdoms of Ruins A world where witches were hunted down by humans as science surpassed magic. A kid who was raised by a witch swears revenge on mankind. This honestly looks solid. The animations are very cool looking and the mc seems to be an anti-hero. Will be looking at this one. Under Ninja A well known manga series about modern ninjas. Definitely a unique series for this season. The Apothecary Diaries A historical medical mystery show. I've heard the name before and I've also only heard good things. Will be worth a watch. A Girl & Her Guard Dog The granddaughter of a crime syndicate goes to highschool out of town and the current young boss lies his way into the same school. Would be cute romance if it weren't for the fact she's 15 and he's 26.. Butareba - The Story of a Man Turned into a Pig What the title says. A girl finds him and the story goes from there. I'm Giving the Disgraced Noble Lady I Rescued a Crash Course in Naughtiness The usual light novel title. Honestly, doesn't seem as yikes as I initially thought, might just be harmless breaking the rules kinda thing. Could be fun, also a Capybara that strikes fear into people's hearts. My Daughter Left the Nest and Returned an S-Rank Adventurer Looks like a wholesome series where an adventurer finds a baby, raises it and she becomes so strong she's busy working all the time. Just a cute father daughter relationship in a fantasy setting about her wanting to come take time to see him but being caught up in OP fantasy battles. Ragna Crimson Dragons vs Humanity - a human and a dragon team up to destroy all the dragons. Action fantasy series. Berserk of Gluttony I honestly added this because I thought it was hilarious. Looks like a combo of knock offs - the Gluttony skill from Tensura (reincarnated as a slime) and the mc being called Fate with the main girl who looks exactly like Sabre. I'll be skipping but its' here so you know.

[spectordameron]

the most frustrating thing to me about the acolyte's cancellation is that it really solidifies they're officially pandering to the corner of the fandom that is hateful in every meaning of the term. when the first mando trailer dropped, my first thought was that it was just for those kinds of star wars fans who have a very specific idea of what star wars "should" be. and the fact their primary shows have largely fit the model of what's popular among that crowd — mandalorians, Super Special Clones That Are White, Somehow, a spin off of a spin off to the Clone Wars which is also claimed by dudebros — while ignoring things that go against that mould like the fucking plague.

I don't honestly think that we will be seeing a Rey movie, I can't help but feel like the Acolyte was something of a test to see how something similar to the sequels would be received: and it was hatebombed in ways that I haven't seen since 2017-2020. They, now more than ever, have their proof that anything for new audiences, that seeks to represent anyone but a small and hateful portion of the fanbase, who want nostalgia and nothing else, isn't worth putting the effort into.

This is a huge win for every hater, and we're going to see the Star Wars fandom get so much worse than it already is. They got a little victory when Lucasfilm slowed down then stopped making sequel era content entirely (and even fans of the sequel trilogy are responsible for this, due to a certain portion of the fanbase bombing every single official post for it that they didn't want more content unless they got x, which only helped fuel dudebros' boycott because there Were People of Color and Women, and now we get nothing), and now with the first Star Wars show to get cancelled being Acolyte, they have a major win.

It's the fucking dark ages now, basically, and I'm retreating into my sandbox because I can't be bothered to care. I don't give a flying shit what dudebros want from Star Wars, because it's a violent misunderstanding of what Star Wars is — and if we're pandering to them, then the spirit of Star Wars is truly lost.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

It's Really Rather Simple

I’ve only had your “It’s Complicated” fic for one (1) day but I’m already obsessed with it and if you would be down to write a “The Slow Path”-esque sequel I would read it so hard!! No pressure if you don’t want to do that though! I hope you’re having a good day! :D – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: logince

Word Count: 2720

Everything changes and nothing changes at all.

Logan is still his roommate. They still bicker over the best way to load the dishwasher, how to set up the movies on the big screen, which character is the best out of any number of franchises. He still fights Roman for the couch pull-out bed when Roman insists that he take the main one, only now that he has his fighting skills back he ends up pinning Roman to the bed which—ends up being a really effective way to shut Roman up, one that he takes advantage of with a terrifying familiarity and an even more terrifying fondness. He has no idea what the fuck he's going to do the next time someone asks him what's going on—he's never been the best at lying, after all, and now that Logan's actually back, he's got even less of a chance. But Logan's still the same, reading his books and doing the crossword at worrying speeds and badgering Roman into eating healthier foods.

Sometimes, though, he catches Logan watching him. Like, watching him. He doesn't know what to do about it, especially since Logan's never addressed it at all, but still, he'd be fooling both of them if he didn't know that the Mastermind was in his living room, eyeing him like he was more than just a thorn in his side or a particularly inviting distraction.

Which brings him to the other problem he's currently struggling with.

When it was The Mastermind, it was easy to push aside the fact that he's a damn attractive bastard. The whole trying-to-take-over-the-world, megalomaniac, complete-disregard-for-human-life thing really put a damper on however objectively handsome he might be. Sure, did Roman notice it? He wasn't blind, for crying out loud, but he had a job to do and that job involved punching said attractive bastard in the face and messing up his plans so the world could keep spinning the way it was going to spin until something else came to knock it off course.

And when it was Logan, with his memory gone, well, that wasn't right either. Logan wasn't in possession of all his faculties, he wasn't operating under the truth of who they actually were to each other, and Roman could shove whatever feelings he may or may not have had—or was currently having—into the box labeled 'Not While Extremely Traumatized and Vulnerable.' Truly, the cognitive disconnect between the cold, calculating villain and the sweet, slightly dorky man that had become his roommate was enough to keep the worst of it at bay. That and the fact that he'd been more than a little worried about what the consequences would be if Logan's memory did come back.

But his memories did come back, and…he'd still been the same sweet dork with the same penchant for devastating quips and cocky speeches as the biggest pain in Roman's ass. Logan wasn't going back to being a villain, hadn't stabbed Roman and left him to bleed out, and hadn't told him that everything was a lie. And now Roman had to deal with the feelings before Logan figured them out, which meant that his days were pretty much numbered from the start.

He could still turn Logan in. But he doesn't really want to do that. Not just because it would require admitting that he's not only known where Logan's been, but that he's waited to do it on the off chance his memory does come back, and he's only doing it now because his memory has come back. And he feels a bit bad about betraying Logan's trust like that—even though he scoffs at himself when it first crosses his mind.

And…maybe he doesn't want to let Logan go either.

Does that mean he's slipping down the 'I Can Fix Him Pipeline,' the way he always gets accused of when he suggests doing more than just trying to kill people? No. He's not trying to fix Logan. He was never trying to fix Logan. But he's a decent fucking person, at least he likes to think he is, and so he wasn't just going to leave someone with amnesia in a really dangerous situation. Even now, it's still fucking dangerous for Logan, no matter what his capabilities might be now—he's still not completely sure, and he doesn't think Logan is either—and he's not just going to abandon him now that things are getting more complicated. That's not who he is.

He just also happens to be the type of person who likes coming home to someone else there. He likes being able to make dinner for two people. He likes having someone else in the house when he's freaking out at stupid o'clock in the morning and he can listen to their breathing through the thin walls and remind himself that everything's alright, at least right now.

"You're thinking very loudly over there."

He startles, dropping his pencil—right, he'd been poking at the word search on the back on the magazine that keeps getting accidentally delivered to their address—and when did it become their address?—and bends to pick it up. "Sorry."

Logan just chuckles. "Having trouble?"

"Look, there's only so long I can stare at the same letters before they just start swimming in front of me."

"Mm." Logan leans over the back of the couch, his hand almost brushing Roman's shoulder. "There's one of them in the very top line."

"What? No, there isn't."

"Backwards, dear."

"…shut up," he mumbles, circling it and scribbling out the word from the list as Logan chuckles again. His ears start to burn from embarrassment and he quickly closes the page and shoves it in his pocket, stalking toward the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly, but I have a feeling that'll change before too long. Did you have something in mind for dinner?"

"I was thinking pasta, maybe? We haven't done that in a while and I think the milk's gonna go bad before too long."

"Ah, yes, that sounds perfect. We have some vegetables I can roast that will work as well. Are you up for trying something with a little more spice, this time?"

"Depends, are you going to try and make my sinuses stop working again?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, dear."

"I was in the bathroom for two hours!"

"Yes, and that's the last time I believe you when you say you have a high spice tolerance."

See? This is normal. This is normal. They're just two people talking about what they're going to do for dinner and bickering about it because that's what they do. They're not a villain and a hero struggling to find common ground, they're not a person suffering from amnesia and their caretaker, they're—they're—they're them. And it's not getting any easier for Roman to figure out what the hell he's going to do about it.

"That's the second time you've wandered away from me in the last few minutes," comes Logan's voice, now soft with a worry that makes Roman's heart race, "is everything alright?"

"Sorry," he says automatically, taking the milk from the fridge, "just got a lot on my mind."

"I can see that." And he comes over, because of course he does, and sets his hand on Roman's to coax the milk from him. "Can I help?"

"Uh—"

"With both the pasta and whatever is plaguing you, yes."

Roman swallows. He glances at the stove, makes a mental note to clean it tomorrow, and tries for a laugh. "It's nothing, really, I'm just—y'know. Letting the old wheels spin."

Logan gives him the most unimpressed look he's seen in a while, which is saying something. "You can do better than that."

"It's really nothing for you to worry about—"

"I know, otherwise I'd have figured out what it is already." His hand comes up to brush some hair from Roman's forehead. "But I don't know what it is, and for the life of me, I can't figure it out. I've been trying to give you space to tell me or figure it out by yourself—"

"Wait, you've what?"

"Roman," he sighs, a fond smile curling up the corners of his mouth, "you've been off for days. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Well, he did, or at least he certainly hoped that Logan wouldn't notice. "I don't think I'm gonna answer that."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, I have noticed, and I've deemed it important enough to confront you about since you won't tell me what has you all worried like a fretful deer—"

"Like a what?"

"A fretful deer. The sort that won't go near a tree when the breeze is blowing too hard because it makes the leaves tremble and the noise is too frightening." The smile remains, softening the words to a gentle tease, but the genuine concern behind his eyes makes Roman's throat swell all the same. "So yes, Roman, there is something wrong, I've noticed it, and I'd like you to let me help figure it out."

See, this, this is a problem,. Because it's Logan applying the same flawless—well, sort of flawless—logic that he would when he was The Mastermind, except it's about Roman and his fucking feelings, and he doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to stand here and not break down into a blushing flustered mess. But Logan's staring at him, still staring at him with that face like he's expecting Roman to just spill his guts, and Roman might just have to spill his guts about it.

"I'm having feelings," he admits, voice mumbling and half buried in the buzzing of the fridge, "that's it."

"Mm." Logan lightly bumps the milk against his hand. "These sorts of feelings, or these sorts of feelings?"

Before Roman can ask what that second type of feelings is, there's a gentle hand under his chin and he's being turned to face Logan—oh.

Why the fuck is he so close?

Roman jerks back with a mortifying squeak and collides with the fridge, flailing in an attempt to keep himself upright. Logan just stares at him with the same wide-eyed wonder of watching a zoo animal do something oddly endearing and very strange. He feels his ears starting to burn again and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Does that answer your question?" he mumbles again, still staring at the floor.

Logan puts down the milk and comes closer. No, why is he doing that? He's gonna make Roman look at him again, isn't he? Sure enough, the hand cups his chin again and this time, doesn't let him pull away. Logan just watches him, the same amusement mingling with soft concern until Roman's head starts to spin and he's gonna freak the hell out if Logan doesn't start talking right now.

"Breathe."

"What?"

"Breathe, dear," Logan repeats, "you look like you're about to faint. It's alright, I'm not going anywhere, just breathe for a moment before you pass out on me."

Roman does as he's told, trying to steady himself, but that's really fucking hard when Logan's still looking at him like that and he knows that as soon as he's calmed down enough for Logan to be comfortable talking to him, they're going to talk about what he just confessed to and he doesn't really want to do that right now.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, you haven't done anything wrong." He glances at where they're standing. "Though this conversation might be better suited to the couch than up against the fridge."

He lets Logan walk him over to the couch, sitting down and shoving his hands between his knees. The other end of the couch dips with Logan's weight and he hunches his shoulders a little. After a moment, though, he feels a hand on his knee and looks over to see Logan watching him with way more obvious concern.

"You look—" he cuts himself off. Swallows heavily. Opens his mouth again. "This feels too familiar, Roman. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

Too familiar?

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"N-no, sorry, I didn't mean to—I'm not—" he buries his face in his hand— "fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was doing that, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Logan says, again, with far too much understanding, "I didn't…I suppose I haven't been allowing myself to give much thought to all of this either."

The fridge buzzes. The heater turns on. Someone upstairs puts something in the garbage chute.

"The last time we talked about anything like this," Logan says eventually, "it felt like you wanted to talk to me, but felt you couldn't. I had assumed it was because you didn't want to risk triggering my memories, but…that's not quite true, is it?"

Roman lets out a long breath of his own. "…not entirely."

"Would it assuage any of your worries to know that I have all of my memories back, so that wouldn't be a problem anymore?"

"Only partly."

"Can I help with the rest of it?"

He lets his head hang. "I don't know, Logan, I—I'm struggling."

"I can tell."

"I'm sorry."

"Not like that." The hand on his knee squeezes. "Can I help? At all? Even if it's just to take your mind off of it?"

He turns to look at him. Really, actually looks at him. Logan isn't—he isn't The Mastermind. Not anymore. Even the glimpses he gets are just that: glimpses. And as if he can tell what Roman's thinking, Logan's hand moves to his shoulder. "I'm not going back," he says in a near-whisper, "I'm not going to be that person again. I…I don't know what I'm going to do, I know I have so much to answer for, but I don't want to be him again. I like this life we have. I like—I like the version of me that can argue with you over little things like spice and sleeping arrangements. I like the version of this where I can tell you that I'm worried about you and you…"

He allows himself a small, self-deprecating laugh.

"…you might let me worry."

The lump in his throat returns with a vengeance. "I—fuck."

"I know I'm being a lot right now," Logan says, "but this has been—well, I daresay this has been brewing for as long as you've been worrying about whatever it is that's upsetting you. I fear if I don't get it out now, I might never have the courage to say it."

"Say what?"

He's given a withering look. "I don't recall you being this obtuse."

"What's—"

And then there's a face very close to his and he could laugh at the absurdity that they'd both been worrying about the same thing.

"Logan," he whispers, "if I'm—if I'm wrong, please don't hold it against me."

"If you're wrong about what, dear?"

Roman takes a deep breath, prays to every god he doesn't believe in, and presses his mouth to Logan's.

For long, glorious seconds, neither of them moves.

Then, just as an icy cold hand takes hold of Roman's chest, Logan sighs and melts against, him his hand coming up to cradle the back of Roman's head as he's kissed so softly, so sweetly, he feels tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes.

"No, my dear," Logan murmurs when they part, voice wonderfully hoarse, "you weren't wrong."

"Thank god, otherwise that would've been awfully embarrassing."

Logan chuckles, ruffling his hair. "I propose we finish dinner first, then talk about this, hm?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes, dear, we should talk about this."

"But I want to kiss you again."

"I didn't say you shouldn't kiss me again. I said we should have dinner first and ta—"

Roman shuts him up with another kiss. Logan chuckles into his mouth, so he figures he doesn't mind too much, and delights in learning that he's found just as effective a way to get Logan to shut up.

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[cruyuu]

I also don't have any hopes for the ending anymore after last chapter. Just easy fanservice, Yuji will never get his deserved focus again, and Sukunas doing silly suffering faces EVERY page. Of course he will get the humiliating pain ending while Kenjaku, who did way worse things died happy and had a fight where he was happy

Sukuna's love part will never be touched again. Would have adored more chapters with yuji and sukuna walking around their memories and seeing their own. This is why I HATE fans pressure, though I can't understand why even more popular stories like Evangelion and Bleach can let the author make endgames against the popular ones but the new mangas have to be so.....safe. I think the best thing would be splitting the fandoms, make a good ending about Yuji/Sukuna (sequel about them would be so good) and make some spin off about gojo or some LMAO HE ISEKAI'D and have a manga just about him where everyone smells his farts, but for the love of god, take him away from yuji and sukuna manga, everyone wins

You're completely right, anon. I agree with you.

Fans of both Sukuna and Yuuji aren't allowed to have anything except more questions. The story puts them in focus (hell, the story exists because of them), places their relationship in focus, places Yuuji as Sukuna's nephew through reincarnation yet... nothing. None of that seems to matter at all.

Everything else matters more than getting answers to those questions surrounding them both. Like: who is Sukuna? Why does he behave so contradictory? Why is Yuuji not acknowledging his lineage? Why did he talk of people existing outside of roles and say he loathes Sukuna only for us to see that he's still serving a role as Sukuna's vessel (because he wants him back)? Hell, now that hurting one is hurting the other is considered canon, if Yuuji does kill Sukuna, he'll just end up killing himself yet that... nobody is talking about that. Even Yuuji and Sukuna themselves aren't acknowledging this fact at all lol.

I know this manga still hasn't ended and I would love to be proven wrong but it all ends in like 4 more chapters and that isn't enough really. It still won't erase those little frustrations I have and will fall flat for me.

[etherati]

Taproot - (1/25)

To celebrate finally finishing this monster of a fic after 4 goddamned years, I'm going to be posting the full chapters here on Tumblr, serialized like in the olden days, to make it easier to digest a bit at a time. Expect an installment once a week. This is a sequel to Wellspring, and is a post-S2 AU with, at this point, established Trephacard--plus some historical flashbacks, family drama, bloody showdowns, and a lot of secrets waiting in the wings. And feels. All the feels. If you like those things--or, for reasons I cannot disclose at this time, dear old Leon Belmont--consider giving this one a spin.

Summary from Ao3:

Taproot (n): The oldest, most central root; that from which all else arises.

Every family has its roots, diving down into the shadowy, secretive earth--and there's no such thing as a bloodless inheritance.

🎵 Music pairing: The Old Ways - Loreena McKennitt

Next -- >

Go to part: one | two | three | four | five | six

Sunrise over the Black Sea—golden light spilling into the water like its own sort of glowing, glittering liquid, diffusing through the brine and illuminating it in hues of orange and amber and violet-pink—is one of the most beautiful sights the natural world has to offer. There are other striking sunrises to be had, and other bodies of water prone to making a person feel overwhelmingly small, but nowhere else do the two combine into such a spectacle, delighting the eyes even as it harrows the soul.

At least, nowhere else that Sypha has been, and she has been a lot of places.

She twists the end of her walking stick into the damp sand and gravel. This means that she’s close; she can tell by the particular mineral-laden smell of the salt and the angle of the light that she’s still a bit north of Enisala, but not by very far. There’s no shame in having arrived at the sea slightly off from her target. The only truly accurate navigation is by the stars—and the lingering presence of the night creatures and the winter’s bitter chill have had her travelling mostly with the sun.

Overhead, the keening cries of shorebirds as they dip and weave, coming in low to gather at the waterline, to pick over the tide pools and sandbars. The breakers beat the rocky shore, relentless. There’s a stark beauty to the place, to the way life struggles forward despite its days being filled only with further struggle. Tenacity. Tenacity, she understands, and all the spoils it brings.

This would be a lovely place to bring Adrian and Trevor to, she thinks; let them see this dawn, let the three of them roughhouse in the waves and drink sweet fruit wine in the sun and make love in the cool, damp sand once twilight settles in, all softness and blue-black shadows and the murmur of the tide. When the weather is warmer. When the sea is greener than it is grey, and the wind coming off of it doesn’t threaten to peel the skin from her face and hands. When they feel safe, leaving the castle unguarded for a while.

That time is, with certainty, not yet now. But she’s working on it. She’s still not gotten used to travelling alone, honestly hopes she won’t ever have to, but sometimes needs must. And that’s the entire point of this, of having to be away from them for so long.

She misses them—misses her family, too, but that’s an old ache that she’s grown accustomed to. Missing Adrian and Trevor is a different kind of hurt, sharp and fresh, made worse by knowing how badly they’re missing her in return. When she was growing up, travelling constantly on journeys measured in seasons, a month had felt like nothing. Now, it feels like an eternity.

There’s no snow and ice out here, this close to the water; there never is, in her experience, until you get to the deep, deep north. The sand is wet and the coarse stone crushed into it grinds under her staff. It’s blunt and thick, as writing implements go, and there’s no way to get any detail—and anyway, she’s no artist.

She still leaves a chunky, lopsided heart in the sand, as if marking the spot to return to later—as if the waves won’t wash it away mere hours after she’s left this place.

The sun is high overhead by the time the crumbling stone fortress of Enisala comes into view on the horizon. It feels wonderful, even if winter sun never warms one through the same way summer sun does; she drops her hood to bask in it, shifting her pack on her shoulders.

The ruins themselves are all beige-grey rock, the sky even more devoid of color, stormy and brooding. As she gets closer, though, she can see little pops of color all around the perimeter of the old fortress—blanket-draped caravans, colorful paper lanterns, artifacts of every culture the trains have come into contact with over the past year. Anything to make the space lively.

This place has always felt oddly significant to her—with its ruins that no one will claim ownership over, that seem to belong only to themselves, like slumbering giants from the birth of the world. Really, anywhere on the eastern edge of a landmass would do, for the Speakers’ winter solstice celebrations. But this is where her family group has always come, and so she knows she will find them here. For a week on either side of the solstice, many trains gather here in the sprawl of the mysterious ruins, and they eat and dance and share stories, all the stories of the year before, and Sypha knows she has a few that will make even the elders jealous.

She smiles to herself, framing the narrative in her head as she sets off down the narrow, meandering path to the gathering below.

“Sypha!” a familiar voice calls out, along with the clatter of scattered and dropped firewood; she’s barely made the edge of camp, is still lost in thought, but that voice would snap her out of just about anything.

“Kiri,” she oofs out, as the woman barrels into her, catching her up in a crushing embrace that’s more robes than anything else—layers and layers of them, to keep out the damp chill. Sypha hugs back just as hard; she’d been expecting her family and the others, the ones she’d watched leave Greşit all those months ago and then had to say farewell to again late in the spring. She hadn’t been expecting Kiri, Kiri who knows all her secrets and remembers what she looked like when she was young enough to go about with her hair unshorn, who she spent more time with growing up than she did her own family—throwing rocks into rivers and climbing trees and playing rough games with the boys. Testing every limit, challenging every rule, pushing for every wild dream.

Kiri, who’d been away from their clan for at least three years now, off studying the healing arts with the Ottoman scholars in the east when their own collective knowledge had proved insufficient for her. Three years that now feel like nothing—and isn’t it odd, how the friends of childhood are so often forgotten when the demands of adult life catch up, but the body never forgets what it’s like to hold them?

“I’m so glad you made it,” Kiri says, her face buried in Sypha’s hair. “My first Solstice back with our people and you weren’t here! I was getting worried.”

“What, did you think I would miss it?” Sypha asks, faux indignation through her own laughter. “Never.”

“Well, I’ve been told that you have your hunter, now,” Kiri says, pulling away, a sudden swell of distance blooming between them. No wonder—too often, Speakers who marry outside the tribe never quite find their way back. She and Trevor hadn’t been that to each other the last time she’d seen her family, had just been circling ever closer without quite making contact, but fair assumptions could be, and often were, made. “And your sleeping soldier?”

“Mm, yes,” Sypha says; it’s been a long time since she’s thought of Adrian that way, though he’s never stopped fighting for them. “But this is important, being here. And seeing everyone again! How have your studies been?”

Kiri’s eyes flash with excitement, bright against the wind-bitten redness of her cheeks; her skittishness evaporates in an instant. “It is incredible, Sypha! The things they know, in the south—the things they’ve kept track of, that others have forgotten. There is a book one man there has written on how to repair a person as if they were a torn garment or a broken wagon. It’s remarkable.” Adrian probably has a copy of that, somewhere in his mother’s medical library—if not, she’ll have to remember to track one down. “I understand why we do not record our stories, but after three years there, I wonder if we are foolish to not record knowledge itself? Raw knowledge I mean, the kind that is hard to frame in the context of a story.”

My people are idiots, she remembers saying, during that

interminable stay in the Belmont hold; she’s usually more inclined to be generous, but there’d been an infectious kind of frustration and cynicism they’d all been fighting, after a certain point. 

“I’ve wondered that, too,” she says now, far more diplomatic; the journey has done her outlook a lot of good. “About an entirely different body of knowledge! Not something that would be as useful as the medicine you’re learning, but yes—if having something written down can save a life, how can that be wrong?” 

“Don’t let the elders hear you say that!” Kiri admonishes, laughing.

Sypha blows a dismissive breath through her nose. “I am sure they already think I’m a terrible member of our tribe, just for raising a hand against the enemies of humanity. I cannot imagine their opinion of me can get much worse.”

Kiri throws an arm over her shoulder, pulls her in. “It’s not that bad,” she says, trying to be encouraging, but there's a tension there. “Our Sypha, the warrior of Wallachia. But I always knew you were destined for something special.”

Sypha frowns in thought, takes a few steps in silence. Did you? She wants to ask, and she wants to ask, Why?

Destined. Destiny is too large an idea, is the sort of thing that hovers around other people, people with remarkable families, with mysterious pasts. Sypha is a magician like any other Speaker magician; her father was the same, and his mother before him, and there is nothing unusual about any of it. These things run in families, and magic users are common, and sure, she'd gotten herself sucked up into an epic story because of it, but it could as easily have been another.

Couldn't it have?

Would another scholar of magic have done just as good a job? Would another magician have melded into the team as well as she did, have communicated in battle so effortlessly, have picked up the slack the other two dropped and protected them when they needed it? Could just any magician have snatched Dracula’s castle out of the aether like it was a feather on the breeze?

Would another Speaker have tossed aside the principles of a lifetime to stand up and fight, or is there really something dark and burning in her that sets her aside?

If there is, is that a good thing or a bad thing? Is that even the question to be asking?

“...how does it feel, to fulfill a prophecy?” Kiri asks, as they start to make their way toward the rest of the camp. It’s clear from the suddenly uncomfortable undercurrent in her voice that she’s not talking about the whole killing Dracula part; that story, her family has already heard, and it’s surely made the rounds. No—she’s talking about the rest of the prophecy. The part that’d had Sypha so uneasy clambering down into the catacombs and so defensive when she awoke there in the face of a hunter; the part that she’d like to believe any random magician would not have been able to fulfill.

“Strangely?” Sypha says, pitching her voice low. “Like I did have a choice in the matter.”

“Truly? You did not feel fate’s hand pushing the issue?” A pause, a few scuffing steps in the snow. Then, carefully: “Or another hand entirely?”

And oh, Sypha understands why her old friend is concerned, understands all too well given the way the world has sometimes treated their people. How non-Speaker men have often regarded them—worldly and experienced and incapable of ever saying no, as if rejection of the church’s self-loathing, oppressive morality somehow made them into succubi. But the implication is so absurd in context that she still laughs, conspiratorial. “No. My God. I had to push them. I thought I was going to go crazy.”

A smile then, more genuine. The tension drains out of the arm across Sypha’s shoulders. “What kind of heroic warriors are they, if they’re not fighting for the hand of maiden fair?”

“In what world, I wonder, would I be considered a fair maiden?” Sypha asks, smiling despite herself. Her robes are ragged with wear, her hair recently chopped short again, her feet swathed in cloth bandages beneath her sandals to keep out the cold. Fair indeed. But she knows that society outside of their caravans frames the world in certain ways. “And they were fighting with me, not for me.” 

“Still. Most would expect some sort of reward for saving the world—even if only from fate.”

Sypha shakes her head, remembering that sunrise through the castle doors, the way they’d all started drifting apart before she’d pulled them back together. Those first few hours of having no idea what to even do with themselves, in this tomorrow that they hadn’t expected to see. “We were all shocked to still be alive, in the end. I imagine that would be reward enough for anyone.”

Kiri looks to her feet, swallows. They walk in silence for a moment. It had, perhaps, been unfair to go into such dark territory—to invoke how close they’d all come to dying that night. But these are the stakes Sypha has gotten used to, the way she’s become accustomed to thinking of the world. Speakers don’t fight; they are always in danger from those who don’t understand them, but that is a danger that brings itself to one’s door. The memory of choosing to walk across an enemy’s threshold, certain she would not ever cross it again, is uniquely hers.

“If you met them,” she says, gently bringing the topic back around, “you would understand. They honestly are good men. They understand what trust and respect are.” And they have enough baggage to fill an entire wagon, between them both, but that’s not for her to say. She’s not so dense as to think that they’d been dragging their feet just to frustrate her. “They do respect me, and I had to do nothing extraordinary to earn it—only what I’m truly capable of. We are equals.”

“Enough so that they trusted you to make this journey alone,” says a voice from her other side, mild and gentle, and Sypha turns without thinking, throwing herself into her grandfather’s arms.

“My angel,” he says, stroking her hair, and as it always does, the endearment makes her heart clench up a little around something—something hard and painful, like a rock in her chest, that she has never understood.

She huffs a laugh against his robes, pushes through it. “It was more a matter of whether I trusted them to survive a month without me.” Kiri laughs then, and her grandfather does too, and it warms her to know, with this kind of certainty, just how lucky she really is.

“…and it was in this way that the houses were joined, the scorched land of one family and the usurped fortress of their oldest enemy, and from the ashes of tragedy and loss and centuries of discord arose the hope of an unexpected and brilliant future.”

A long silence, broken up by the crackle of logs in the fire, by the quiet rustle of voices from elsewhere in the camp. There’s no need to pronounce the end of a story here, not if one is half decent at telling it; Sypha knows that they are just letting it sink in.

“A remarkable story, more so even than the first telling, which we have all heard,” one of the elders says, one she isn’t familiar with. In front of the old woman’s feet, a pair of young children are still staring raptly at Sypha. The elder’s voice is warm, pleased. “It will be quite a thing to add to our memory stores. And quite a thing to know that one of our own played a role, in such a difficult time for our country.”

“One of ours, one of Dracula’s, and one of their own that they threw out,” says a young man a few places to Sypha’s left; his voice carries the twist of a smile. “I wonder how the church must feel, in the face of such irony.”

And oh, that’s a thought that has given Sypha much satisfaction over the last year—to be a fly on the wall when the heads of the church met to discuss what had happened!—but the old woman frowns. “I imagine they feel as though they nearly caused the extinction of all human life in Wallachia,” she says, a touch sharp. “Perhaps that is enough?”

One of the children at her feet giggles, a Look who’s in trouble kind of sound, and the man ducks his head. But he’s not in trouble. That isn’t how they do things. “Pardon me, Elder,” he says, “but I disagree. That they made a horrible mistake is knowledge that can fade or be downplayed over time. That they were saved by the very people they ostracized and cast out—that carries weight that cannot so easily be shrugged off. Even if we cannot share this with the rest of the people of Wallachia, that lesson should at least be preserved.”

Because it is about hubris as much as it is about blame, she can remember saying, after that first meeting they’d had with Acasă’s strange new church. Blame can be washed away with a convincing enough apology, and hubris will make the same mistakes over and over again. Both must be undermined if any progress is to be made.

It had been a hard sell. Adrian tends to want to place blame if only to have something to aim all of his anger and sadness at, now that he’s allowed himself to start navigating them; Trevor only wants the world to feel more just than it is. But in the end she’d brought them around: more needs to be done than to just rub the church’s nose in the mess it’d made.

Which is why they’d agreed, in the end, for her to finally tell the story in its entirety—nothing masked or obfuscated, no details left aside. Only for her people’s ears; a closed telling, a rarely invoked practice used when the full story needs preserving but would put the participants in danger, should it get out into the general populace. The people of Acasă are just now starting to truly accept Trevor for who he is; tolerating a witch and a vampire is a bit much to expect of them, just yet.

“For whatever it’s worth,” she says now, “as a participant in the story? I agree. How this was ended, and by who, is just as important as who started it in the first place. There are lessons in both of those things."

The elder regards her for a long moment, thoughtful. Then nods, just a tiny dip of her face into the firelight. “Very well. This story will sit alongside the previous version. The nature of Wallachia’s saviors is to be preserved, as a means of emphasizing the church’s shortsightedness and the need for it to not repeat that mistake.”

Sypha nods deeply, a long and slow dip of her head nearly to her knees. “My thanks, Elder. May your tribe live happily and well, in the coming year.”

“And yours.”

The crowd disperses, some going to hear or tell other stories, some retiring to their caravans for the evening meal. One figure stays nearby, hunched over a nearby fire, close enough to have heard her telling but not actually part of the group receiving it. In the fading light, the shape is just that: a shape, a silhouette, blue-black against the blue-white of the snow, limned in the cold violet light of sunset. They have a branch in their hands, are stripping it of its side-shoots methodically, tossing them one by one into the fire.

It’s a silhouette Sypha would know anywhere. 

“What stories have you to tell,” Sypha asks, settling down alongside her, the ritualistic question feeling strange in her mouth, “since this time last year?”

Kiri huffs a laugh. “None as exciting as yours. You’re a hard act to follow, Sypha.”

“You seemed excited about all the knowledge you’d gained, earlier.”

Twist, pull, snap. “That’s nothing, compared to having a grand destiny.”

“I still say that destiny is too strong a word. We basically fell down a hole.” 

“Directly into the vault of Greşit’s sleeping soldier. At precisely the time the three of you were most needed. That sounds like kismet to me.”

Sypha can’t help but laugh, remembering. “It felt more like incredible clumsiness, from where I was standing.”

“Falling.”

“From where I was falling, yes.”

A stretch of quiet, then, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“So,” Kiri says after a while, tossing an entire handful of twigs into the flames. There’s a smile on her face but the firelight has turned it bitter, all shadows and edges. “Your soldier is a vampire.”

“Dhampir, really,” Sypha corrects, kneejerk. For so long, it’d been Trevor she was correcting, then after a while, Adrian himself; she’s used to being quick on the draw with it, because either of them saying vampire had generally been a sign of badness brewing.

Kiri breaks another few twigs free from the branch, twists them in her fingers. “I don’t know what that means.”

Right. Of course she doesn’t. “It means his mother was human.”

“Oh,” Kiri says, seemingly still not sure what to do with this information. “I knew that, I guess. From the story itself. I didn’t realize the distinction mattered.”

“Yes, it… it matters. A great deal. I do not think a true vampire would have ever sided with humanity.”

"Still. I wonder if I would have been able to guess, had we met in the summer instead of the winter."

Sypha plucks at the scarf around her neck, the wool scratchy but warm, dyed in a hundred vibrant colors. It’d come from the market in Acasă, knitted by an old blind woman, and had been a gift—gratitude for the work they’d done securing the town against the demon attacks. They had saved her son’s entire family, and gone home that night and celebrated it, a battle with no casualties save the demons themselves. She’s wearing it because of the cold, but she knows what Kiri is asking. "Perhaps."

A huff of breath. “So much for your gentle warriors.”

“You would probably be surprised,” Sypha says with a shrug, not even bothering to take offense on Adrian’s behalf, because she can tell this isn’t what Kiri’s actually upset about. Some people compare words to weapons, and it’s truer than they know; you can dodge and feint and mislead with them as well as you can with steel. “But that isn’t—Kiri. What’s going on?”

For a long moment, no reply. The fire cracks and pops, splitting the wood apart in a spattering of sparks. Kiri throws the whole branch into it like a spear, a hard burst of frustration.

“Taerna married, this summer,” she finally says, the words quiet. 

That stops Sypha cold, her fingers poised in mid-reach for a branch of her own. She curls them back up around the empty air, feels the nails bite into her palm. “She always said she would wait for you.”

“Why should she have bothered? We were only friends.”

“You were more than that.”

“She married,” Kiri repeats, short, face tightening as if to hold something inside. “Like all of my friends and sisters did. Marriage and children and… it’s all anyone does. We had plans. We were going to, to travel, and she was going to hunt our food and I was going to heal people and we were going to see the world together. But this is the only life anyone seems to care about.”

And even you’re going down that path, Sypha can hear, unsaid. You and your prophecy, your exiled hunter and your inhuman soldier. 

Sypha closes her eyes, takes a breath. “She cares about you.”

“She also cares about her hound.”

“She loves you,” Sypha says, insistent.

Kiri laughs, bitter, tears threatening. It’s like watching an old dam crumble, flawless limestone threading through with cracks and stress fractures, and then: an outrushing of things held back for far too long. “Not enough,” she says, curling forward over herself, arms tight around her belly. “Not more than she loved the idea of having a child. Not enough to be with me.”

“Oh, Kiri. I’m sorry,” Sypha says, threading an arm over her shoulders, pulling her in. “I’m sorry.”

“Do yours love you?” Kiri asks after a moment, muffled by the layers of robes. “Enough to change the world, to defy everything for you?”

Sypha thinks about Trevor punching Dracula in a ridiculous, suicidal attempt to keep him away from her, thinks about Adrian in her garden, enduring the sun to make her happy—about a castle and a watchtower and the ending of the story she’d told, and her grasp on her friend tightens. “They do. And each other.”

A laugh into her shoulder, rough and wet. “I’ve always thought it would be terrible, to be involved in a prophecy,” she says, barely audible. “I never thought I’d be so jealous.”

There’s a stream that runs past the ruins, a narrow but swift-moving current that cuts through the ground here like a knife. It leads into the tough, gnarled pines and firs that grow this close to the sea, into these dark and uninviting woods that are nevertheless filled with a thousand secret places.

Sypha follows it, as she always has, year after year. 

Things are different, this year.

She finds them by the water, bundled up and talking quietly. There’s a fire burning, but it’s been banked and allowed to subside down to embers, giving off heat but very little light. In the heavily filtered winter moonlight, they look like faery folk—Arn with his delicate, dignified features, Lily with the luminescent white bone beads threaded into hair the color of pitch, both of them beautiful and earnest.

They look up when she steps closer, their faces dark, shadowed. Painfully anxious.

She sits down on the ground, near to them, facing them. She is just as filled with anxiety. She has never done this, has no idea how to approach it—she knows they are not being blindsided like Kiri was, knows they have had time to adjust to the idea of this, but all she can see is her old friend’s face, broken up in grief over a friend-love she—and everyone else—had thought was something more. For once in her life, Sypha cannot find the words.

Then Lily smiles, the brilliant, passionate smile Sypha remembers, and holds out her hands, and Sypha lets herself fall into the woman’s arms, nearabout crushing her in the embrace.

“It’s all right,” she whispers, against Sypha’s ear. “You’ve found your loves. It was always bound to happen to one of us.”

Sypha nods against her, feeling the tears welling up. Turns to embrace Arn, the familiarity of his touch painful in this context, in knowing what she has to do.

“Are you set to marry?” Arn asks, quiet, solemn.

Sypha shakes her head. “I haven’t brought up the subject yet. There are a lot of complications—no human establishment would ever welcome us. But...”

“But you would like to.”

“Yes.”

“Will you come back to us then, for the ceremony?” Lily asks, and her voice sounds like the fear of paths diverging, not knowing if they will ever converge again. “Or even just to visit? You know there are none here who wouldn’t welcome all of you—or if there are…”

“Lily will convince them to change their minds,” Arn finishes for her, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

Sypha closes her eyes, takes Lily’s hand. “Of course. I could not stay away for long. And you can always visit us—we’ll have a lot of space, once we rebuild.”

Visiting, seeing old friends: it’s not the same, won’t ever be the same. And sometimes things change, and people change and what they are to each other changes. But these two were always dear friends first and foremost, and that will never—can never—be any different. She gathers them both into her arms, and it’s a sweet, comfortable place to be.

“Please tell me,” Arn whispers into her hair after another long moment, “that Belmont at least bathes regularly, now?”

And like that, the seriousness of the night vanishes, goes up like a twist of smoke into the black. Sypha laughs, and keeps laughing, until it turns to tears again and she can’t sort out which she’s feeling more of. 

“Yes,” she says, with a little hiccup of sob-laughter. “He does. He fights the darkness and protects the innocent—like he was born for. And washes the monster blood off, after.”

“Good,” Arn says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We could tell from the beginning, that he was capable of being more than he was pretending to be.”

A long measure of silence, only the water rushing past, too swift to freeze even in the heart of winter.

“Will you let us give you a proper farewell?” Lily asks, hesitant. “Do they know—”

“They know,” Sypha says, biting her lip. “I talked with them about it before I left. They don’t mind.” As long as it’s a farewell, she hears Trevor saying, laughter in his voice even as he’d tried to be serious about this. And not a ‘till next time’.

Adrian had just been quiet, and had smiled softly in that way that is always disarming to her, and had simply said that traditions, and closure, are important. For everyone involved.

“Do you want this from us?” Lily asks. “Whether they mind is not the only question.”

It’s secluded in the little copse of trees, even the starlight blocked by the arching branches thick with green needles, and warm from the banked fire. Sypha nods, and reaches out with both hands, palms up in invitation. They each press a kiss to her open hands, and they hold her and she holds them, all of them swathed in the shadows of this secret place. She lets them say goodbye to this part of their collective lives, lets them put their hands and their mouths on her and push her to giddy exhaustion—one last gift from her youth, and one that will have to hold her over through the winter chill until these two weeks are out and she can begin to make her way home.

When they wander back to camp late that night, appetites sated and tension shaken away, things are different between them, always will be different, now—but that’s all right, in the end. Change, like liquor in a wound, can sting, but it is sometimes the only thing that makes the blood run truly clean.

The next day passes quickly and well. She gives her grandfather the gifts that Adrian and Trevor had sent along with her; scouring the castle library, Adrian had found a rare volume of supposedly true stories from the far east that he thought the tribe would appreciate having to add to their memory stores, and    Trevor, feeling some cabin fever in all of the early season snow they’ve gotten, has taken up carving—which is to say, he isn’t very good at it yet, may never really be. But the two simplistic figures he’s sent are easily recognizable as rough caricatures of priests, one missing a finger and one missing an eye. In memory of the day we all met! he’d said, performative, trying to disguise the sentimentality as tactless humor.

Her grandfather laughs to himself as he holds the figures up, and she can tell he’s trying hard to mask how entertained he is; violence is so anathema to their people and yet, somehow, this particular act of violence never seems to have unsettled him. Context, she supposes; Trevor had been acting specifically to save his life, and he could have done far worse.

She wanders the camp, looks at all of the lovely exotic decorations, and plays with the children, an odd pang in her heart as she watches their innocent games. She helps prepare lunch, lighting the fires for the ones doing the cooking, chopping vegetables and kneading dough for flatbread, and she goes into the woods with Kiri to gather more firewood—they will need a lot of it, tonight. 

They don’t talk, while they gather. It’s not awkward, just an understanding that the space between them needs some quiet, needs time to breathe.

She visits with the others in her family, with the surrogate aunts and uncles that are not actually related to her by blood, with the childhood playmates and the mentors, and with Taerna and her husband, a man from another tribe who’d chosen to join hers

instead of the other way around, had chosen to take her name. He seems sweet enough, and Taerna seems happy, if a little haunted around the edges of her eyes. Everyone she asks says that yes, of course they will be there, tonight.

Last night had been for stories, and tomorrow will be as well. But tonight is for celebration. All things in equal measure.

Hours in, Sypha drops onto one of the logs around the edges of the clearing; she slumps forward with a happy groan, reaching to rub the knots and strings out of her calves. Her walking muscles are conditioned like no others, but dancing muscles are a different story. It’s a good ache, though, like that burn in the cheeks that comes from too much smiling, too much laughter. She feels overheated from the exertion and the fire, no matter the chill in the air, and she unwinds the scarf, loosens the top layer of her robes to let the air move through.

Between where she sits and where the fire burns, silhouettes move, a chaotic display of human joy and beauty. They have no structured dances, really, though longtime partners often grow into each other’s steps. She can smell warm food nearby, bread and stew and hot mead, sees all of her family and friends and the strangers that come here as well, all her people, all dressed as she is, and wonders again: could any of them, the ones with magic at least, have done what she did?

She stares into the fire, remembers the feel of the castle’s engine between her fingers, the way she’d felt reality bending and brittle fracturing around her, so much more power at her disposal in that moment than she’d ever brought to bear conjuring fire or ice—and she thinks that no, maybe not. She’s met other magicians; she’s not sure any of them have ever trapped an eldritch monstrosity or blown apart an Enochian ward or—or done the things she’s come here to learn how to do. The things her father and her grandmother could do.

Later. Later, when the Nasaii tribe arrives. They should be here by morning. She will learn what she needs to, and she will go home, and she will be able to protect that home more thoroughly than she ever has before.

In the meantime, she watches the dancers, contemplates getting some stew, contemplates whether her legs will fall off if she tries—watches Arn and Lily together on the far side of the clearing, twisting in a tight curl that makes Lily’s hair lift, the fire lighting up her bone beads and glinting in Arn’s eyes. Watches the children imitating the adults, the youngest pairing off with their siblings, stumbling all over each other. Watches strong, tough Taerna with her husband, insisting on leading him, as much as anyone can lead in this sort of dance. 

Watches the elder she’d told her story to last night, sitting across the fire from her, watching Sypha right back with a gentle smile that says Don’t worry,  that says You will be with them soon.

And there’s nothing inherently romantic about these dances on the solstice—friends dance with friends, parents with children, and many dance alone—but she remembers being young and everything being about those early, tentative relationships, remembers that there was a thrill in getting the chance to dance with those people she called heart-mates, or to be asked to dance by someone she wished to be that close to.

So she can’t help but smile when she sees Taerna whisper something to her husband and break away from him, sidling hesitantly up to where Kiri sits. She’s poking at the dirt with a crooked, bare stick, and her sandals haven’t touched the dance ring—are clean of the dust and soot that coats the ground here, the

remains of a hundred years of bonfires.

Taerna holds out a hand, uncertain.

It won’t solve all of the problems, won’t make Kiri’s love hurt less or magically mend things between them. But there’s something of healing in Kiri’s eyes as she reaches up to take that hand, leaves the stick behind in the dirt, lets herself be pulled up and into the ring of dancers, the two of them falling into each other’s space with an ease that says We belong here, that says Even if we must change, there is still us, that says You will never be a stranger in these arms.

Next -- >

Go to part: one | two | three | four | five | six

[romance-of-three-memes]

It's been over 6 years since Dynasty Warriors 9 came out, and 6 years since we've had a new main series entry. We're not getting another main series entry at least as of yet, we're getting Dynasty Warriors Origins, which was revealed in Sony's 2024 State of Play show, which has been remarked to have been an utterly mediocre event (much like this entire generation of tRIpLe A video games). The first trailer is here:

So, what do I think of all this? My overall sentiment can be summed up as follows:

Fuck man, I dunno.

Dynasty Warriors means a lot to me. It means so, so much to me. It's shaped a lot of aspects of my life, my taste in video games, music, characters, and costume design, my academic interests and aspirations, etc. I learned Chinese in college and studied abroad in Beijing largely because Dynasty Warriors stoked that interest in me from a young age. So yeah, I *really* love this series. I *really* am not sure what my life would look like if it hadn't been part of it. And I *really* hate what's become of it.

I want to be excited. I want to be optimistic. But at the same time, I don't, because man, does getting your hopes up only to have them dashed hurt. Nothing last forever, and after the sorry affair that was Dynasty Warriors 9 (the strongest defense I've heard for it was 'it's wasn't as bad as people say' it wasn't AS bad. Yeesh), it's made me wonder if there's really much of anywhere left for the series to go that's interesting.

The formula itself, the 1 vs 1,000 gameplay, has long been ported to other IPs such as Zelda, Fire Emblem, and Berserk, and a lot of them have been great (holy shit I love the original Hyrule Warriors). This proves that the gameplay concept can continue to evolve and be engaging. But Dynasty Warriors as a narrative device for that concept has been pretty played out, and it's not like this is a new observation, anyone who's played more than one or two Warriors games would probably be able to tell you the same thing.

Given the differing gameplay with the whole nameless hero bit and the title it's probably more like (another) spin-off than a main sequel, and that may very well be because the devs don't have much of anywhere else to go with the main series, which may be for the best. I'd rather let something go quietly into the night than watch as it shambles on like a reanimated corpse, although I'd rather it ended on a better note than Dynasty Warriors 9. Something that particularly bothers me is the wording of some of the ad blurbs, like on Koei-Tecmo's official twitter account announcing the game: 'In addition, for the first time in a Dynasty Warriors title, the storyline will be told through the eyes of a “nameless hero.” Play through the historical tale of war as chaos erupts throughout the Three Kingdoms, showcasing the vast lands of China and its most ruthless generals like never before!’

That's *technically* true, but in a very legalese way. This isn't the first time the Warriors series has had an original character with no historical or cultural background being 'the main character' of the game. Dynasty Warriors 4 and most of the Empires games have the option for you to create a player character and play through the game with them, and Samurai Warriors Chronicles is the same deal, albeit that's even more like the premise of Dynasty Warriors Origins because you play as an OC going through the late Sengoku Era. And man, the evolution of the character creation over the years has been pretty amazing. It makes me wonder if this 'nameless hero' is going to be customizable other than changing their weapon (which was showcased in the trailer). I'm going to be really honest, unless that character ends up being extremely compelling and well-written, I'm going to be very put off if we can't customize them, or if there's only a small degree of customization. In Samurai Warriors Chronicles 3 I can make a player character who’s a woman that’s taller than virtually every male character, isn’t stick thin, can wield any other character’s weapon or her own unique weapon, and I can put her in cool armor that isn’t pointlessly sexualized, and I can give her different voices who all give the character different personalities in their lines and delivery, and I give her the overconfident, ruthless voice actress. If you take that degree of customizability away from me after having given it to me on a handheld system from the previous generation, I will lose a ton of interest, Dynasty Warriors Origins.

Another thing that maybe isn't quite as major but still gets me is the announcement tweet on Koei-Tecmo's official twitter account that goes 'Fueled by exhilarating 1 vs. 1,000 action and the rush of massive armies, DYNASTY WARRIORS: ORIGINS delivers an unrivaled sense of realism to the battlefield'. Realism. In Dynasty Warriors. A game series where you play as characters with superhuman abilities and are at a peak physical condition that most people could never hope to achieve. Realism? You think I want realism? You think *anyone* plays this series for realism? One of the best parts of Dynasty Warriors is how flashy and campy it is, and how unabashed it is about that (or how it used to be, anyway). Dynasty Warriors has never, ever been about realism and feels more like chasing trends, since realism has been a buzzword in the video game community for years now (albeit it's quieted down within the past few years, thankfully).

Still, this is just a very basic first trailer. Could it be great? Yeah, I'd love for it to be. But do I think it will be? Most of what little evidence we've been given so far makes me lean towards 'no'. That doesn't mean I necessarily think it'll be terrible, but I also don't really think it will be great.

As much of a cynical, joyless bastard as I can be, I don't get anything out of saying all this. I usually love being right, but not about this. Man would I *love* to be wrong about this. I really, really would. Also, I don't mean to rain on anyone's parade or try to convince them that they shouldn't be excited or should expect the worst case scenario, I'm just throwing my opinion out there. Maybe once we see more my expectations will take a turn for the better.

So I guess I'll end this with the sentiment I began with: Fuck man, I dunno.

[avijohann]

I have an immense debt with I Don't Hate The Gravity. It's still my favorite fic that I've written, and as far and Johann and Avi's relationship, I think I did a pretty good job. I also tried a lot of new things that ended up becoming staples of my writing (for how little I write nowadays), and I'm very happy that people to this day still see traces of it over my work, and viceversa.

HOWEVER.

Bitch, I put so many fucking easter eggs in that fic that I never ended up addressing.

TL;DR: Gravity is now a series. I'm writing a sequel and spin-offs. Yay!

Spoilers for all of Gravity, obviously.

1. Magnus, Lucretia and the Voidfish.

This one is probably the less affected, I think knowing about their relationship and seeing it in snippets throught Gravity does a good job conveying the secret nature of their relationship, both from the point of view of a third party (who will never get to know the depths of someone else's life just from standing next to them) to the actual plot reason Magnus and Lucretia had to be quiet about it. On top of that, they both had their own personal character arcs that didn't rely on the relationship, which is something I'm very proud of.

That said, I did put a lot of effort into developing their backstory, and even if I summarized it quickly and consistently during Chapter 4, when Johann finds out Magnus' connection to the Voidfish, the way I wrote it was meant to be, I'm not sure you guys picked up, spin-off bait. I totally meant to write a little oneshot of their Voidfish heist.

2. Sweet Flips

Again, there really wouldn't be much to say. They are an stablished couple with their own life. They have (what I hope is) good rapport and are a nice resting point for the narrative when all the other relationships in this fic start getting dramatic.

Except:

"(...) Just because you didn’t PDA back then or even now doesn’t mean it wasn’t obvious to everyone you had it for each other.” “Everyone but us?” “Everyone but you, yep.” “Now you know how we felt in first year,” Avi muttered. Carey started sparkling. “That was different. I actually hated Killian’s guts.” “Yeah, you sure did.”

"Wow, Shi! That sounds like there's a story there! Are you gonna write it?" Well, sure! That's literally why I put that specific conversation there!

3. Taako, from TV?

This is the worst one imho, because unlike the other two where we kinda know what happened and how it ended. Taako's whole TV crisis thing was mentioned ONCE and then never brought up again. I was talking to @crystallizedkingdoms the other day about the Gravity spin-offs I never wrote and they told me they just assumed Taako had poisoned a bunch of people again, which is totally not the case. I planned an entire saga for him about his adventures as the only teenage contestant in a very famous and widely televised cooking show, which ended in betrayal and international embarrassement, and the consequences of putting popularity over those you love.

BUT YOU WOULDN'T KNOW BECAUSE I NEVER FUCKING WROTE IT.

The problem with these three stories isn't that I didn't write them. Everyone in school (at least the named characters) has their own thing going, it's part of the main message I wanted to write with Gravity, that everyone is the protagonist of their own life, even those who don't seem to have much going on, be it because you really can't tell the high stakes everyone is going through, or simply because what might be a nothing burger to you might feel like the end of the world to someone else. Realistically I could've never written every single backstory for every single character. The problem is I actively referenced and, again, baited with these three stories.

Well, I'm here to atone for my sins.

Gravity, the series, has officially launched as The Laws of the Universe, a series of fics centred around Gravity, the fic, exploring the lives of the teenage characters in more Astronomy metaphors.

As a reward for reading this far, and because I really need to be held accountable for this shit, you get to see the titles before anyone else. In no particular order of posting:

Pluto Is Not A Planet (Sweet Flips origin story)

And Then Copernicus Came And Ruined Everything (Taako backstory)

[TITLE TBD] (Magcretia+Voidfish backstory)

All of these are working titles and thus subject to change. As you may have guessed, each title references something related to astronomy, which in turn references the main struggle of the characters in the stories. I also wanted to keep up with the negative sentence structure (I Don't Hate The Gravity, Pluto Is Not A Planet) but found out it didn't work with what I had planed for the sequel, so that has been scrapped.

So, what is up with that sequel?

I need a new post to talk about that, but the most important thoughts have already been written in the notes of that fic. So, to quote myself:

This is a story that's been five years in the making. Some of the themes were originally part of Gravity, but I ended up cutting them out of... cowardice, basically. The thing is, Gravity was always meant to be a more """""realistic"""" take on a High School romcom, and the absence of these themes is not realistic.

I know what you're thinking. Let's talk about it in another post.

Thank you for reading, and see you in future updates!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really That Bad?

Women leading superhero films has a long and troubled history even before losers online decided to make it their life’s mission to bully Academy Award-winning actress Brie Larson for the crime of being in a mediocre MCU movie. 2004’s Catwoman is the film that is usually pointed to as the movie that poisoned the well in regards to superheroine blockbusters, but it takes two to tango; the following year’s Elektra is just as much to blame for the negative perception of these sorts of films.

And how could it not be? It was rushed into production, Jennifer Garner really didn’t want to do it but was contractually obligated, it was supposed to be rated R until more contractual obligations nipped that idea in the bud, and on top of everything else it was a sequel/spin-off to a movie that was already extremely unpopular (Daredevil vindication was a long way’s off at that point). With all that in mind, is it any wonder that it’s one of the lowest grossing films to ever be based off of a Marvel comic? The only films that did worse were Punisher: War Zone, Man-Thing, and The New Mutants. Even the Howard the Duck movie did better than this shit!

The career of director Rob Bowman as tanked because of this film, with his credits being relegated to TV. Garner, meanwhile, fared just as poorly, with her career cooling off and leading roles not being a thing for her after that point. But worst of all is the career of the poor boat house in this movie, as it ended up appearing in Fifty Shades of Grey. And obviously this film dragged down the idea of a woman headlining a superhero flick for about a decade until Genocide Barbie Gal Gadot stepped into Wonder Woman’s boots. And while Catwoman would receive better adaptations on the big screen, Elektra would get no such chance…

...Until it was revealed that Garner was reprising her role in, of all things, Deadpool & Wolverine.

While the film isn’t out as of the time of this review, the announcement of her presence in it really got me intrigued about the last time she donned the red ninja outfit. I’m a huge apologist for early to mid-2000s superhero garbage, so it only made sense to check it out in preparation for the massive Marvel crossover Deadpool was about to deliver. And you know what question I always ask when going in to an infamous film like this: Is it really that bad?

THE GOOD

This film is just hilariously corny when it wants to be. I think when it does stupid stuff other superhero films of the time did, it tends to do them at least a little better. For instance, like Ghost Rider it has a quirky miniboss squad full of boring flat characters who exist for Elektra to kill. But while the ones in Ghost Rider are completely forgettable and bland, this film at least has some striking visuals with Tattoo and hot forceful lesbian murder smooching with Typhoid Mary, something I’m sure awoke things in the five people who watched this.

Garner herself is really, really trying, and to her credit most of the action scenes she’s in are pretty ok when they aren’t being edited to death. As I watched the unrated version, the brief glimpses of insight into her backstory are nice, and I do love that bright red costume on her. If nothing else, she does sell how cool Elektra is supposed to be with how she carries herself, even if the writing isn’t doing her many favors.

The final act is where things really get fun, because we have a big stupid battle against magical tattoos, teleporting ninjas, and genuinely the funniest possible way to kill a villain ever. I legitimately burst out laughing when I saw this:

THE BAD

Unfortunately, no matter how funny Typhoid Mary taking a knife to the forehead after saying her only two lines in the movie, two lines that actually give her more character than every other villain in the film, it can’t really completely save the film from its two massive, crippling issues.

Literally everyone in this movie is a fucking moron. The biggest moron is easily Elektra’s buddy, who sacrifices himself so Elektra can escape from the bad guys… but his sacrifice is pointless because they pull the info from his mind with psyhcic powers. He would’ve been better off running away with them! But it’s not like the villains are much smarter; one of them chops down a tree, and then almost immediately forgets this and walks into its path before getting crushed to death. It is genuinely absurd how dumb these characters manage to get. The dumbest of them all, however, has to be Stick. I genuinely have no idea what the fuck this man is trying to accomplish at any point, because he is recklessly gambling with people’s lives here.

But hey, dumb decisions are fine in a trashy 2000s superhero movie as long as they lead to some enjoyably dumb scenarios, right? Well, about that… Barring a couple of ridiculously goofy action scenes, this film is pretty bereft of memorable corniness. Remember how I said the minibosses in Ghost Rider were not as good as the ones here? Sure, maybe it’s true, but no amount of murderous lesbian smooching makes this movie more memorable than Ghost Rider, which features over a dozen insane Nicolas Cage moments. But maybe that’s cheating, it’s not fair to compare a Jennifer Garner vehicle to a Nicolas Cage one… so how about Catwoman? As absolutely shoddy as that movie is, there are a bunch of cringey, campy scenes that have helped earn the movie at least a handful of ironic fans. There’s just nothing like that in Elektra. It’s trashy and stupid in safe, unimpressive ways for the most part, and it doesn’t do anything at all to really stand out from the crowd.

IS IT REALLY THAT BAD?

Yeah, I guess it’s bad, but the level of bad that it is is greatly exaggerated.

The movie I’d most compare this to is, of all things, Morbius. I love Morbius more than most people, and even I’m willing to admit it’s multiple bright spots of trashy charm are interspersed with the dullest shit imaginable, and Elektra has a similar issue. It’s just so goddamn unmemorable and dull for the most part, with only the final act being packed full of silly nonsense to latch onto. But even that comparison isn’t great, because Milo was sprinkled throughout Morbius and was genuinely hilarious the whole way through, while Elektra just plods along until it remembers to actually be a little cool for the finale.

I guess really the film is less “bad” and more “not good.” Like if you throw this on in the background as noise while you do something else, it’s not the worst you could do, though even then something like Black Adam would probably be better. If you want to watch a trashy 2000s superhero film, I guess it’s not unwatachably unpleasant, but why wouldn’t you watch Catwoman or Ghost Rider instead? It just is in such an unenviable position where it’s the bottom of the bottom of the barrel, the least engaging super-schlock ever made, a movie not good enough to be vindicated but not bad enough to deserve the hate it gets. Elektra is just a film that exists. That’s all there is to it and aside from the single funny death, I have no strong feelings about this movie. I think a solid 4 is where this belongs. Not good enough to be average, not bad enough to be awful, it’s just there.

All this being said, I’m honestly very excited to see Garner become a teleporting ninja assassin again. Every comic character who was in a crappy adaptation deserves a second shot, be it as a new character (Michael B. Jordan as Killmonger) or as a reprisal that improves on the untapped potential that was there (Jamie Foxx’s Electro in No Way Home). I’m rooting for Garner to get her due, and for Electra to get the respect she truly deserves… But I just don’t really think this movie’s going to be getting a reappraisal no matter how good she ends up doing.

[beevean]

The misunderstanding of what canon means is exhausting. I like Saint Seiya, which has a wealth of spin-offs, many of which exist in a dubious state of canon to the main tl, and people just refuse to play nice sometimes.

We have *multiple* axes of the problem:

The main anime has major irreconcilable plot changes from the manga. Including undoing multiple characters as blood relatives.

The original anime was cancelled, and the following ovas that adapted the rest of the manga came out many years later, and contradict the prior anime while still keeping anime only changes anyways.

The most popular manga spin-off was never strictly canon, but it existed mostly unchallenged. When the main canon got a direct sequel, it contradicted the spin-off timeline while also recycling many of its story elements.

There's an anime only sequel that existed to sell a figurine line but was basically treated as canon to the anime timeline, until it suddenly was confirmed it wasn't, and then was displaced by another anime only sequel that was also canceled, lol.

Another manga spin-off was largely considered canon, but now it also has it's own direct sequel with an alternate timeline and an alternate future, which probably isn't canon maybe. (???)

One of the movies was *supposed* to be canon to the manga, but executive meddling changed the script. Some events of the movie should be canon but also can't be. It's in a full continuity snarl.

Etc etc. The original author's official stance is basically 'idk pick what you like best and roll with it', but it feels like simr fans are constantly bashing on his work specifically, to try and argue why their fav entry should be considered greater canon. When that ultimately doesn't matter - it's his story, lol. If nothing else, we know the default is always going to be the original manga he wrote. So watching people try to denigrate the thing they're trying to claim canon ties to, feels like shooting themselves in the foot no matter what. If you don't like the main timeline, stop trying to claim a spin-off you like is in it! Problem solved!

(...also yeah, if you couldn't have guessed from 'only blood relatives in the original canon' and the propensity of spin-offs to contain fanservice, or characters that only exist in one work, or expys based on other characters, etc. A LOT of the drama is just poorly disguised shipwank anyways)

The last line encapsulates everything, I feel 😂 nothing more annoying than shipwank disguised as something more important

This sounds like a complete mess, and I mostly blame the executives flip flopping. Personally I'd only consider the og manga canon, and everything else a non-canon spin on it that might or might not be better.

But yeah, there seems to be a propensity to assume that canon is a badge of honor. And this is also what leads to shipwars where people insist that their OTPs are canon, or they should be, and the story will fail if they're not, and you are wrong if you don't agree...

It's by far the worst, least productive way of being a canon purist IMO.

[rjthirsty]

Sloppy Seconds

Roderic/Gilbert

Words: 1,300

Tags: Male Solo, Used Sex Toy, Sexual Fantasy, Gay, Smut, Modern AU

A/N: @scummy-writes commissioned A Housewarming Gift from me, and loved it so much she requested a sequel on Roderic's reaction to it. And of course some smut. Thank you for this commission request, I ALSO had a lot of fun with it. I loved making Roderic as much as a freak as Gilbert.

Roderic paused in the hallway outside his opened bedroom door. A familiar shoebox was sitting on his bed. A box that should have been tucked away and not displayed for the world to see. A box that he had hid himself. And now it was there. On his bed. With the lid opened…

Quickly, Roderic darted into his room and shut the door, attempting to close his secrets in with him. With his shoulder pressed against the door, he glanced around his room to make sure he was alone. Gilbert was nowhere in sight, which was a relief at the moment. However, Gilbert was the only other person who lived in the apartment with him, meaning it was Gilbert that had found Roderic’s toy hidden under the bed and left it in view to inform him of that fact. 

Shame. Embarrassment. Roderic wished he could crawl into a hole and disappear. He barely knew Gilbert. What was it that Gil was trying to say by exposing his perversion?

Drawing in a shaky breath, Roderic shuffled towards his bed. Inside, as expected, was his personal sex toy, a fleshlight, but something was off about it. Embarrassment gave way to curiosity, and Roderic picked up his toy immediately identifying what didn’t look quite right about it. It had been used. Bewilderment overtook him.

Clear lubricant coated the silicone opening. Roderic touched the substance on his toy to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, and sure enough it was the gel he had inside the box with his fleshlight.

What the hell?

He spun, staring at the closed door as if he could see through it to the culprit. Gilbert had not only found his toy, but also used it. Then he returned it without attempting to hide what he had done, and now… now what? What was he supposed to make of this? At first he had thought he was being teased for owning the fleshlight, but now it seemed like Gilbert was trying to convey something else. Was this some sort of confession? Invitation? Was this his way of sending nudes or a dick pic without putting himself on the line? No one would believe Roderic if he said that his roommate fucked his sex toy. It would be a truth only between the two of them.

Oh. Now it makes sense.

Roderic’s eyes slowly moved to the used toy and his thoughts began to spin faster than they had previously. No one would know but the two of them. Despite the display, only Roderic would have found this. Only Roderic would know that Gilbert had used it. It was a dirty little secret that Gilbert had shared with Roderic and left it up to him how to proceed from here. It was their secret. And it was hot.

The way his cock had stiffened almost immediately at the thought of Gil’s unspoken promise, at his interest in sharing at least Roderic’s toy, at other possibilities that could come from this, it surprised him how excited it had made him. The way his brain reminded him that Gilbert had just fucked the toy he was holding helped stoke the smoldering heat in his groin. The way his imagination began to play out how Gil looked thrusting into the fleshlight, pumping into his fleshlight, knowing it was his and that he was likely to use it again, that Gil wanted to make sure that he knew and what that implied…That burning in his lower belly, that pressure in his gut that was building, it was singeing the synapses in his brain and causing Roderic to feel hazy and intoxicated.

He unzipped his pants, dropping them enough to pull his cock and balls free from his boxers. His heart was beating rapidly and roughly in anticipation. There was nothing wrong with what he was about to do. It was his toy, after all. Yet it felt like he was on the edge of doing something shameful and that made it even more enticing.

Roderic gave himself a few strokes and tugs, already aching to be squeezed by his toy. His cock was beading so much that the pre-cum heavily rolled down his tip. His cock bobbed as he lined up the entrance of the toy with his dick, causing his glans to touch the lubricated silicone and a moan slipped free from his throat, surprising even him at how easily it came. Closing his eyes, he slowly pushed inside the slick hole. The used hole. The hole Gilbert had just fucked. But it was Gil that came to mind instead of some other person that they were taking turns with.

It was his black-haired roommate whose face he saw, flushed cheeks and multicolored eyes looking at him with heat and a half-lidded gaze. It was Gil he heard gasping and groaning as he slid inside him. It was Gilbert’s hole he felt tight around his throbbing cock, sucking him inside and feeling so fucking good. Roderic moaned again as he bottomed out, his cock twitching deep in Gil in his imagination. Fuck, it was almost too much. He was on the edge of coming at any moment if he wasn’t careful.

He tried to calm himself. Tried to remind himself that it was just a fantasy. Tried to pull in breaths that would slow his racing heart and keep his breathing from growing ragged already.

Standing with his cock fully inserted, he waited until the feeling in his gut eased up before he slowly started to pump into the toy. It was so slick and eager for him. Lewd sounds quickly filled the room in a steady rhythm, accompanied by Roderic’s quiet moaning.

He covered his own mouth, trying not to be too loud. If Gilbert heard him– if Gilbert came in on him fucking his used toy… Well, he half wanted it to happen, but how would he explain it? Maybe… maybe if he was loud enough, Gil will check on him. He’d know what was going on. He’d be happy that Roderic was finding pleasure in the mess that he had made for him. He’d want to watch. He’d want to fuck instead.

Roderic’s fingers fell away from his mouth. The thought was too delicious, too arousing to be overshadowed with his shame - shame that was very quickly becoming a distant memory. He’d fuck Gilbert without a second thought. He’d have his cock really buried inside his attractive roommate. Ah, the sounds he would make. The way he would feel. He’d suck him and fuck him and feel him clenching around his cock so desperately. He’d come inside him and then they’d fuck again. Gil would be so slick just like his toy was right now.

He thrust into Gilbert in his mind. His own moans sounded in his imagination as Gil’s voice rather than his. How he wanted to kiss those lips and claim his moans and rock into Gilbert and– fuck, he’d be so beautiful. So clingy and needy and hot and– Roderic’s knees felt weak. His hips stuttered. His thrusting became desperate and the pressure that had been threatening to break and squeeze him dry finally released. He pushed as deep as he could inside his toy, and his cum spurted into the depths of Gilbert’s hole, ass and hips flexing as his seed spilled in multiple squirts.

It was over so quickly. The warmth and tingling that came from climaxing spread through his body, relaxing his muscles. His head swam from the whirlwind of emotions he just had, ending with the sleepy pleasure that accompanied coming. He was reluctant to pull out, but as his breathing slowed and his pulse steadied, he knew the fantasy had to come to a close. It had felt so good. So unbelievably good. But now he had to decide how to approach Gilbert about their shared secret.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Ocean's Twelve (2004)

Making Ocean’s Twelve must’ve been a blast. You can tell the actors were certainly having a good time. Too bad the fun can't extend to the audience as well. This film thinks it’s so clever, so funny. All I want to do is punch it in its smart little face.

Set three years after Ocean’s Eleven, Terry Benedict (Andy García) has located the Ocean's crew and demands they return his money - with interest. Fearful for their lives, the group schemes to pull a few quick jobs to pay him back but their efforts are hindered by the master thief “The Night Fox”. He agrees to help Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his friends out of their jam if they can best his legendary skills.

Immediately, the film is in trouble. Either Danny and his friends will succeed in their mission and pay back Benedict - which will make us unhappy because we don't like him - or they will fail and the villain will have them all killed - which will make us unhappy because we like them. The only possible way to avoid audience disappointment would be for the scoundrels to somehow steal from the man - again - and beat him so decisively that he gives up trying to get his revenge. Unfortunately, that’s what the first movie was about so you know it’s not going to happen.

Ocean's Twelve can’t even figure out what to do with its characters. The problem is that although we sort of got a vibe that they got along, we never really believed the people rounded up by Danny were friends. It was pretty clear that at the end of the first movie, they were going their separate ways. Maybe some of them would keep in contact but no one was ringing up “The Amazing” Yen (Shaobo Qin) to see how he was doing. Like many others, he was hired to fulfill a role in a con and nothing more… but he was in the first movie so he has to come back again. How does the screenplay by George Nolfi use him? It shoves Yen into a bag and then accidentally ships him off to the wrong country so he can be “in the movie” but off-screen as much as possible.

Forget Twelve. This movie only has a few important characters. There’s Danny and Rusty (Brad Pitt), Danny’s wife Tess (Julia Roberts) and Rusty’s old flame, Isabel Lahiri (Catherine Zeta-Jones). Then, you have the villains with Vincent Cassel as The Night Fox and Andy García. Everyone else could’ve been condensed into one or two people. Similarly, the plot could’ve been thinned a lot. As is, there are so many twists and turns it’ll make your head spin. In another heist film, that would've been good but so many revelations are then revealed to be completely useless by the final scene it makes you feel like you wasted your time. In this instance, the main plan is so dumb you know director Steven Soderbergh is trying to pull a fast one on you and you don’t buy it for a second.

The most infuriating scene is also the unfunniest. The crew's target is the Fabergé Imperial Coronation Egg (quite the step down from a vault full of money if you ask me) so they recruit Tess (who is the twelfth member of the team) to help. Their plan? Capitalize on the running joke that she “sorta” looks like Julia Roberts by distracting the people in the museum while the others steal the egg. Not terribly clever, this gag also breaks one of the unspoken rules of filmmaking. The audience promises to ignore the fact that we know these are actors on-stage as long as the movie doesn’t draw attention to it and pretends the story is set in a world other than ours, “Last Action Hero”-style. As Oceans Twelve does this whole “I don’t look that much like her”, “Oh no! There’s Bruce Willis! Now I have to pretend like I know what he’s talking about” thing, you make a mental promise to hate the film no matter what it does later.

The worst part of Ocean’s Eleven” was the hint at a sequel right at the very end because deep down, you knew the magic couldn’t be replicated, that only the most convoluted of scenarios could bring these people together again. Ocean’s Twelve proves that so thoroughly it’ll make you wish the actors would all retire. (April 28, 2022)

[hostess-of-horror]

Inspired by our other conversation. If you were put in charge of the next HHN, you can make the houses, the stories to them and the scarezones, what would you do?

Kinda like the HHN wishlist but I am curious of what you would do in the details of it. 👀

- @classicdeadfan

*SQUEALS OF PURE DELIGHT*

@classicdeadfan, you have no idea how much I wanted to talk about something like this! I love haunted houses, scarezones, and Halloween in general, so of course I would have tons of ideas as to how I would develop a proper attraction!

The Main Theme:

Now, I never really thought about an overall theme for HHN, mainly because I only ever thought about specific themes for houses and scarezones. Although, the more I think about it, the more I'm leaning toward a "deranged artist" horror story theme. I know that The Director is a "deranged artist" that already exists within the HHN-verse, but I was thinking more along the lines of the Killustrator from Singapore's HHN event.

Or perhaps, Sander Cohen from BioShock.

Okay, maybe not him specifically, but an Icon character much like him. If there's anything I love, it's the concept of an artist who uses murder and other horrific ways to create masterpieces.

Another thing I also really want is Cindy to make her appearance as an Icon (she was going to be one years ago, but she was switched due to the multiple child kidnappings in Florida at the time).

So... Cindy + "Deranged Artist" = A very meta main storyline where Cindy, after years of being promised to have her own "Icon"ic debut, finally lashes out against Universal Studios for denying her the chance to shine. With a cursed sketchbook in hand, Cindy unleashes her twisted, child-like drawings into the streets, killing anyone and everyone in their path.

2. The Scarezones:

I'm going to do five scare zones for my HHN event because there were five of them last year, and honestly, there are so. many. ideas.

Halloween Horror Nights 32: Drawn in Blood - the main entrance to the entire event. Cindy has finally taken over Halloween Horror Nights as her personal canvas and the blood of those who denied her years ago is the ink of her pen. You will encounter Universal Studio employees and creative teams being torn apart, gutted, beheaded, and tortured by her living creations. Her father, the Caretaker, will also be there, supporting his daughter as she wreaks havoc. Beware of Cindy, or else you will become her next biggest inspiration!

Army of Frankenstein - the scarezone spin-off to The Bride of Frankenstein Lives, where the Bride's various experiments have now been released into the outside world. Cower in fear as you witness villagers get attacked by these man-made beasts and are forced to bow before their malevolent conqueror. Nothing will stop the Bride from hunting down all of mankind until she either wipes them out or until they surrender to her...

Vamp '32 - a "prequel" to Vamp 85. Set in the year 1932, the Great Depression has fallen upon all of humanity. Where life has become difficult, death is now far easier than ever before! Enter the party of the century as poor souls are tricked into getting easy employment for the hosts and higher-ups. In the world of undead flappers and gangsters, fresh blood is the most valuable of all!

Bugs: Unleashed! - the sequel to Bugs: Eaten Alive. After the failure and destruction of Buzzcon, the mutated bugs are now taking over the world! Step into the 1950s as a suburban neighborhood becomes a hot spot for breeding and human food supplies, and armies are just about helpless in fighting these bugs off. You better BUZZ off, or else you're dead meat...

Haunted Couture - inspired by Vanity Ball, this scarezone has turned into an exclusive R.I.P. tour of the "Gore"-geous world of fashion. Using the leftover flesh from her previous massacre (main entrance), Cindy's revenge has taken to new heights as her victims become living mannequins for all to see and scream! As someone once said: "Beauty is pain."

3. The Haunted Houses:

All of these are not in a particular order, as I am searching through wiki pages and whatnot to come up with some good house ideas.

Vikings Undead: Glory and Gore - a previous scarezone turned haunted house. Follow along with an excavation team and witness their newest discovery yet: an unknown burial mound that holds the remains of an ancient Viking king named Audun the Unyielding. Little did they know that their trespassing has cursed them all and he and his Draugr army now rises to satiate their bloodlust. Face your fears in battle and prove yourself worthy of the gates of Valhalla!

Terrifier - an IP haunted house about Art the Clown and his menagerie of gore. Venture through the dingy neighborhood as you are caught in the midst of a grisly murder spree, and Art is on the hunt! This maze is not for the squeamish or the faint of heart... Use your wits to escape, or die trying!

Universal Studios: Opera of Terror (Phantom/Dracula maze) - the sequel to the Universal Monsters line-up. A mob has risen to take down the infamous Opera Ghost as Christine Daae is in his clutches. But as the Creature from the Black Lagoon emerges from the depths of the sewers, chaos unfolds as the two iconic Monsters battle it out for Christine's love. Bodies will drop (as well as the chandelier... again!). Who will win, and who will drown in defeat?

Yokai Hotel (Japanese Creature maze) - Check-in into one of Japan's finest hotels for a night or two... but watch out! This modern hotel has a secret: within its wall remains an ancient curse and the ghouls had taken their place as its eternal residents. You will encounter vengeful ghosts, horrifying demons, and unsettling creatures as they try to feast on your soul. As you go deeper, you will unlock the secrets behind the owner's lineage and what their true intentions are.

Feartime Emporium (Devil Dogs) - Schittie's Kidz from Slaughter Sinema has now become a funhouse of death! Enter Lizzy Lemming's Funtime Emporium as the children within turn psychotic and kill anyone they see. Climb through the booby-trapped playgrounds, sneak through the blood-soaked arcade center, and pray they don't catch you. And whatever you do, let them eat cake... and pizza... and whatever the hell else they want!

SyFy's Chucky - the official HHN house of this year... very self-explanatory!

Retail Hell (original) - it turns out that working in retail isn't all that it's cracked to be. The horror comedy maze of the HHN event, Retail Hell is a minimum wage employee's worst nightmare. A "Karen" has been infected with rabies, and now every "Karen" and "Ken" are going into an animalistic rage, ripping human flesh with their teeth! Survive your way along with the employees and security as you fight against these ballistic zombies. The main mission? Protect the manager at all costs.

Dollhouse of the Damned: Restitched - the popular haunted house from HHN 24 (2014) has finally returned with a vengeance! Revisit the horrors of the dollhouse, now with brand new scares and even more terrifying toys to be frightened of. As you enter, you will experience a realm where good toys go to die and evil comes out to play. Once again, this house is no child's play!

Horrormoon Suite (original) - during the 1970s, Cupid's Arrow Resort was once the perfect place for newlyweds to spend their post-wedding days together. To this day, it lays dilapidated... but far from abandoned. Within its graffitied walls resides a cult of "Undesirables" - people who were rejected in terms of love. In the hopes of finally having love in their life, the Undesirables will do anything to achieve an inkling of romance. Anything...

Legends of London (original) - Jack the Ripper is not the only terror that stalks the foggy streets of London. The city is wrought with death and cruelty, fictional or otherwise, all the way back to the days of kings and queens. Travel through time as you are haunted by the dead and hunted by the deranged. What will it be: slaughtered in an alleyway? Cooked into a meat pie? Or perhaps, beheaded for crimes you never committed?

[heronpoxed]

Everyone is on fire about Tara and that's deserved!!! The hate I see the most comes from the self-insert/fic crowd. And the arguments are how they would have been better old ladies and handled Gemma and "fixed" Jax. LMAO. Lol even. It's petty jealousy.

I think she was set up, as so many love interests are in crime shows (skyler from breaking bad), to be hated because while the viewer loves the aggression and the world building Tara pointed out how insane and dangerous it all was. Jax isn't so hot and cool anymore once the club and Gemma aren't praising him. Once Tara actually shines a light on how self absorbed and pointless the whole outlaw setup is. Selling guns and later drugs isn't a "mission", it's not being an outlaw. It's just crime for money without any redeeming qualities. As was the clubs behavior towards women and their own children, while yelling "family and brotherhood above all else".

Anyway. Tara was right. And I am very sorry she had to die for Jax to finally realize it. She really wanted the best for him and saw him as a good man.

I’ve only ever read one SOA fanfic that was written in 2013 which is more like a love letter to Tara and her & Jax’s teenage years than anything else (its rlly good. It’s called Beginnings if you’re interested in reading) so I have absolutely no idea what the SOA fic crowd is like lol.

You’re right about this too. Tara was set up but I’m connecting this one to misogyny too. If reasonable female characters weren’t notoriously hated - no matter which relatively older show we’re talking about - we wouldn’t be thinking that they were set up. Hope this makes sense. I get the attachment to the world-building because the setting and the world of the story is the first thing that a consumer sees. In the case of Sons of Anarchy though, it was clear from the very first episode that the current club life wasn’t a right way to live. That was the whole point of Jax finding John’s manuscript; that was what got Jax determined to get the club out of the gun running business right? But i guess the attachment to the world made everyone ignore the whole point of the show and ultimately hate Tara because she never let anyone forget that.

That’s one of the reasons why I don’t want a spin-off/sequel with Abel and Thomas (something that many fans want sm). Tara and Jax didn’t sacrifice everything - including their lives - for their sons’ well-being only for them to get back to SAMCRO. It would mean that all of their sacrifices were for nothing!

Good point on the club’s behavior towards women and their families. The way they are with women is absolutely horrible which makes no sense because all of them would go to war for their significant others but then treat them with sm disrespect at home? I guess that comes down to their ego and toxic masculinity.

Tig, Chibs, Opie, Bobby ALL OF THEM had children yet they never cared lmao. All Chibs could talk about during the entirety of s3 was ‘his girls’ yet he never mentioned either Fiona or Kerrianne in later seasons. As much as Tig loved his kids, his way of life got Dawn killed and he was so extremely devastated!! I can’t believe that after Dawn’s death he never for even a split second questioned his choices regarding his life and the club.

I also hated that Opie’s children gradually started disappearing. i feel like not giving him any storylines with his kids in later seasons dehumanized him in a way. But i’ll never be sure if it was intended that way or not.

All of this collectively comes down to inconsistent writing. To me at least. I don’t know why screenwriters are always adamant on leaving so many loose ends and not digging a bit deeper into stuff like this.

And to answer your last point. Obviously Tara was right and I’m sorry that it took me watching this show twice to realize it but in my defense, I was 15, stupid and didn’t speak good enough English :’)