#at least with me the odds of a sequel happening are still... odds

[daughterofhecata]

Short note to fic readers who want an author to maybe write more of a particular story:

DO NOT come barging into the comment section with "Please write a sequel!!!", especially if that it the entirety of your comment and you have no previous rapport with the author.

DO mention a few things you liked about the fic and then maybe throw out a few ideas of what you would like to read, like "I wonder how the next morning is going to go!" or "it would be so interesting to see them negotiate the relationship going forward!" and maybe end on a note of "would love to read more in this universe!"

That way you've actually opened a creative window, shown your interest in the fic and the universe, without pressuring the author or treating them like a content machine.

[mulletpermsicantlookaway]

The Jockification of Jeremy, Part 2: Jeremy in Love

(For Part 1 and the earlier stories this is a sequel to, see the earlier posts.)

The next day when I got up, I was already looking forward to wrestling practice. I had to go to school in the same shorts from yesterday, though, because nothing in my closet really seemed to fit me anymore, which was odd. I had kind of forgotten about all of Chase’s messages from the night before. In any case, I wasn’t going to go to a bunch of trouble trying to track him down. It’s not as if I could be seen spending all my time hanging out with a geek. What would the bros say? But Chase found me by my locker before lunch.

He came up to me and said, “What the hell happened to you? I almost didn’t recognize you with that outfit – and that haircut. Why’d you cut it so short? And where have you been? I thought someone had stolen your phone or something. You didn’t answer any of my texts, except for one message that didn’t even sound like you.”

“Chill out, bro, I’m fine. I was just busy. After basketball practice, I went over to Derek’s to watch the game with some of the bros; I told you that. And when I got home, I was so wiped out I almost fell asleep in my clothes.”

“You’re not making any sense, Jeremy. Derek? From the football team? Watching the game? Since when do you hang out with Derek? Or watch games? And since when are you on the basketball team?”

“Since practices started up. I talked to Coach Sanders yesterday. It’s fucking awesome, bro. You should think about joining. I’m sure I could talk to the coach about giving you a tryout.”

“Uh, I don’t think I’m exactly cut out for basketball, and I’m not interested, anyway. And I’m surprised you are. What is wrong with you, Jeremy? I mean, lately you’ve been starting to look like a jock. Now you’re talking like one, too, and hanging out with them, and wearing basketball shorts to school. At least your clothes fit now, but – you look different. Bigger. And taller. What the hell happened to you? Did you turn into a jock overnight? Where were you all day yesterday, anyway?”

“Bro, I already told you. I just went down to talk to the coach, and then I went to practice. Then I did some lifting and went over to Derek’s. Nothing to get your panties in a bunch over.”

“My panties are not in a bunch, you dumbass, and I’m not your bro. Seriously, did they do something to you? That’s it, isn’t it? I didn’t see it before, but somehow they turned you into one of them, didn’t they?

“Dude, do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? Look, I realize I’ve been going through some changes recently, but this is what I want, and I’m sorry you’re not okay with that.”

Just then, Derek happened to pass by. I gave him a fist bump and said, “Hey, Derek, bro, thanks so much for having me over last night. That game was fucking epic, man!” Derek and I talked for a minute. Chase stared at us the whole time. Derek ignored him completely.

As soon as Derek had left, Chase said, “You’re not kidding. You really are hanging out with that blond Cro-Magnon! Now I know something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong with Derek, bro? He’s a nice guy.”

“To other jocks, maybe, but not to me. You really have turned into one of them, haven’t you? Jeremy, you’ve got to listen to me: this isn’t you. Somehow they did something to you. You’re totally acting like a dumb jock now!”

“Bro, I told you I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, what’s two plus four?”

“Bro, those are, like, two different numbers,” I chuckled, but Chase didn’t laugh. “Okay, sorry, that was a dumb joke. I do know how to add. But seriously, what’s wrong with you, Chase?”

“What’s wrong with me is that I’m apparently the only one of us that can see that you changed overnight, and it doesn’t make sense.”

“Look, bro, I get that I’ve been changing, but I just wish you could be okay with it. I mean, we’re friends, aren’t we, bro?”

Chase stood there a minute, fuming, and then he said, “Okay, Jeremy, I give up. I still think something happened to you, but I guess there’s nothing I can do about it; at least, I can’t think of anything. I’m sorry, Jeremy, but could you just leave me alone, at least for now, okay? You’re my best friend, and you used to be, well, you used to be so cute, but I can’t stand looking at you and seeing some knuckle-dragging neanderthal. And quit calling me ‘Bro’. It makes you sound like a douche. I’m sorry. Please, just leave me alone.” And then he took off.

I let him go, but it honestly pissed me off that things were going so well for me and he couldn’t be okay with it. I mean, I try to be nice to the little dude, and he throws it back in my face, calling me a neanderthal! I seriously wanted to mop the floor with the little shit. I thought about it the rest of the day in class. I knew I should just let it go; I had plenty of bros to hang out with, and I didn’t need Chase. But I found myself missing him. I hadn’t been able to admit it to myself before, but I think I’d been in love with Chase for a long time. Now that I had finally figured that out, he didn’t want to have anything to do with me, and I didn’t know how to make things right. Suddenly I got an idea: I could talk over my problem with the coach. I was sure he could help. Today I had wrestling, not basketball, but I felt I knew Coach Sanders better than I did the wrestling coach. I should be able to catch him in his office before I had to go to practice.

When I got downstairs by the locker rooms after school, Coach Sanders’s door was open, and he was in his office. I knocked on the door.

“Jeremy!” he said. “Come in, big guy. Boy are you getting tall! But you look like you just lost your best friend. What seems to be the trouble? Girl trouble? Oh, I’m sorry, Jeremy; in your case it’d be boy trouble, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, Coach, you nailed it. I guess it is boy trouble. I have lost my best friend, I think. He and I have been friends since, like, grade school. But now he really seems to have a problem with me going out for sports and hanging out with my bros. And I don’t get what his problem is, but I feel bad, because we’ve been friends for so long. I know he’s just a skinny little dude, but I’ve always, you know, liked him, and I thought he, you know, maybe liked me, too. And I thought it would be really cool if he could, you know, join the team, and then we could hang out more together. But when I suggested he try out for basketball, he just about flipped his lid. He called me a dumb jock, and now he won’t even talk to me.”

“Jeremy, one of the things that happens to young men your age is that you’re all going through huge changes, but you don’t all change at the same time or the same pace, even if you’re the same age. Every guy’s body is different, you know. It’s like that for you and Chase right now. You’ve just gone through some rapid changes, and that’s something normal for guys your age. Your friend Chase isn’t changing the same way or at the same time, so he’s having a hard time dealing with you changing so quickly. And, realistically, Jeremy, you two may both change in such different ways that you won’t be able to be friends anymore. That happens a lot to guys your age. But then again, Chase might suddenly start changing in ways that will bring you two closer. You have to understand, Jeremy, that as you’ve changed physically, your interests have changed as well, but your friend Chase is still in the same place he was before. If he starts catching up to you, you may find you two have a lot more in common, even though right now you’re both in different stages of development.”

“That makes so much sense, Coach. Thank you, I really couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It’s as if he’s still twelve years old and wants to do little kid stuff, but I’ve grown, and I’m not interested in little kid stuff anymore.”

“It’s exactly like that, Jeremy. Maybe you two already went through something like this when you were both twelve years old and starting to become teenagers.”

“Yeah, I suppose we kind of did have some struggles back then, but not this serious. Thanks so much for helping me, Coach. I feel a lot better. It’d be so cool, though, if you could talk him into going out for basketball or wrestling or something. I mean, I wasn’t really interested in going out for any sports until after you talked to me. I just wish Chase, could, you know, feel how awesome it is to be a jock and hang out with your bros. I’m sure you could persuade him the same way you did me.”

Coach Sanders got up from his desk then and closed the door. “We should maybe have a little privacy,” he said. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Jeremy. Maybe I could persuade him the way I did you. I can try, but I can tell you from where I sit that peer pressure is a lot more persuasive to guys your age than anything their teachers or coaches tell them. Don’t underrate your friendship, even if Chase seems mad at you right now. If he sees how happy you are, he might come around to your way of thinking. And even if he doesn’t, I might still be able to help you.”

He rummaged in one of his desk drawers, got out a key, and unlocked one of the filing cabinets. He took some object out of one of the bottom drawers and sat back down at his desk, still holding whatever the object was in his hand.

“Jeremy, do you remember me telling you about how our former football coach had developed some amazing conditioning programs for helping young men like you reach their full potential?”

“Yes, Coach, I do. You had me watch one of his videos. It was great. I don’t totally understand what it was all about, but I liked it a lot.”

“Well, Jeremy, that was one the materials that we managed to save when he left. We don’t, unfortunately, still have everything he developed. That video is very effective, and I’m happy to share it with any young man that can benefit from it. What I’m holding in my hand right now is another one of his materials. It works in a different way, but it’s extremely effective. And it’s very special, because we unfortunately have only a very few of these left.”

He put the object he was holding on his desk. It appeared to be some kind of athletic cup, the kind you might wear with a jockstrap. The cup was sealed in a plastic bag with a tear-off top. It was unusual looking for an athletic cup, however. It was quite large, and it appeared to be made of some kind of carbon-fiber or other high-tech material, orange and black and grey.

“This, Jeremy, isn’t an ordinary athletic cup. It’s a conditioning device that can help young men like Chase reach their true potential as athletes. If you want, and if I can trust you to not talk about this with anyone else, I will give it to you. Talk to your friend again. Don’t mention anything about this. It’s possible you won’t need it. But if Chase still doesn’t see the advantages of becoming more like you, this will help him.  And if you don’t feel comfortable giving this to him yourself, there are students on the football team that have experience with these devices; just let me know, and I could have one of them help.”

I stared at the cup, wondering exactly what it did and how it worked. The idea of watching Chase develop into a jock enticed me, but I was missing something. “Coach, there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why would Chase need this when I didn’t? Wouldn’t the video help him?”

“It would, Jeremy, but it likely would not be enough to help him to reach your level of development. The video you refer to primarily conditions the mind to develop the routines needed to be an effective athlete. It helped you, for example, learn practice and workout routines that otherwise would have required weeks of drilling. And those mental routines help to condition you physically, which is critical to an athlete. However, physical conditioning can take considerable time, and the athlete has to be highly motivated in order to succeed. Even then, many young men, no matter how motivated they are, are at a genetic disadvantage and are just not capable of the physical development needed. That, Jeremy, is precisely why these devices were developed. They help those who otherwise would be unable to reach the necessary level of physical development. Now you, Jeremy, were a special case. You didn’t need a device like this. You got your physical conditioning from another source, from another young man who had already been conditioned thanks to one of these devices, and who was then able to pass that conditioning on to you. And because you had already been conditioned physically, you were primed, so to speak; you were willing and able to undergo the mental conditioning that allowed you to start becoming the athlete you wanted to become. Do you understand now?”

“Well, Coach, sort of, but the whole thing is a bit over my head. You’re saying that because I made out with…” I stopped, embarrassed.

“You don’t need to say anything more about that, Jeremy. I’m not trying to pry into your private life. But yes, having the kind of relationship you did started to condition you physically. And once we noticed that that process was happening to you, there was nothing left to do but complete the physical process by helping you to condition mentally. Otherwise, you would have been a very unhappy and confused young man. You’re perfectly happy now, aren’t you, big guy?”

“Perfectly, Coach. Happier than I’ve ever been. I know I’m, like, different than I was before, I suppose, but I would never want to go back. Honestly, it’s hard for me to remember now that I wasn’t always a jock. But what about Chase? I want him to be happy. This thing won’t hurt him, will it? He’s my friend, after all, and I wouldn’t want him hurt.”

“No, Jeremy. No one wants to hurt Chase or anyone else. Remember that these devices were developed to help young men reach their potential. But I want to be completely honest with you: it will cause him some physical discomfort. How much depends on the person. So, Jeremy, technically it can hurt him, but think of it like weight training. You’re still sore from yesterday’s workout, aren’t you? It hurt you, right? And yet you know that the pain is necessary for your muscles to grow, and that it will soon go away, and you’ll be stronger for it. If you really care for your friend, Jeremy, then you want what’s best for him, don’t you? I’ve seen Chase, Jeremy, and he’s a very slight young man. As he is now, he might have some potential as, say, a lightweight wrestler, but without the physical conditioning that this device can provide, he would be extremely limited in what he could accomplish as an athlete. But if you like him and he likes you, just imagine what it would be like to be a couple like James and Steve, both of you strong and powerful. Wouldn’t that be worth some trouble, Jeremy?”

“Yes, it would, Coach. I think I understand now. How long would he have to wear it?”

“It varies from person to person. Usually about a week or two, but sometimes longer. But you don’t need to worry about that. All you have to worry about is giving this to him. And remember, Derek or another one of the experience students can give it to him if you’re not comfortable doing it yourself.”

“I appreciate your wanting to help me, Coach, but I think that if I really want what’s best for Chase, I’m the one who has to do this. I can’t pass that responsibility on to someone else.”

“Then I respect your decision, son. Here, take it, and keep it safe. And remember, don’t mention anything about this to anyone. When you’re ready, you open the package and quickly place it over his privates. It doesn’t matter what he’s wearing at the time.”

“Oh, one other question, Coach. It won’t make him dumb or anything, will it? I mean, Chase called me a dumb jock, but I don’t think I’m any dumber than I was before.”

“Jeremy, ‘dumb jock’ is a stereotype. Most jocks are just a smart as anyone else. Some are smarter. Some aren’t. Many young men who’ve gone through this conditioning process have had some struggle with grades, but that isn’t necessarily because they lost intelligence. It’s because their interests and focus changed, and they ended up less motivated by academics. That’s why I warned you not to neglect your studies. I don’t think you need to worry about Chase. He may end up more interested in sports than English class, but that doesn’t make you an idiot. Any more questions?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then you’d better get to wrestling practice before I have to explain to Coach Halvorson why you’re late.”

The coach had given me a ton to think about, but I had no time to think right away. I had wrestling practice, and that took all the concentration I had. Both James and his bro Tyler went out for wrestling, but I didn’t spar with either one of them. They’re both heavyweights. I may be taller than both of them, but I don’t have anywhere near their muscle mass or weight. They’re both scary in a singlet, with their huge muscles, thick necks, and massive packages. Tyler’s the bigger man, but I think James has the bigger tool, not that Tyler’s isn’t obscene enough. But I didn’t realize how big I had gotten down there until I saw myself in my singlet again. I’d almost be too embarrassed to walk out into the gym like that, except that I’m not the only guy who’s showing. My balls must be nearly the size of chicken eggs by now. I wondered what Chase would think seeing me in this outfit.

Chase. It wasn’t until after practice, hitting the weight room, dinner, and a long night of catching up on homework that I allowed my thoughts to drift back to Chase. I missed him, and I couldn’t believe he was happy. I sent him a text, just saying “Miss u”. He didn’t answer, but at least he hadn’t blocked my number.

I knew I needed to talk to him again, but he was avoiding me. I wouldn’t let that stop me, but it was hard to find a moment to catch him without a bunch of other bros around, you know? And I had other worries. Clothes were getting to be a problem. My parents seemed to think I was just going through a phase of wearing workout clothes; somehow it hadn’t gotten through to them how much I had grown or that nothing in my closet fit me anymore. I was borrowing stuff from the other bros. I had maybe one or two pairs of shorts that fit, and some sweatpants that barely fit. I mean, I was almost 6’ 2” at this point, which means I had gained something like 6 inches in a few weeks. I was starting to pack on a lot of muscle, too. I finally had to tell them outright that I really needed some new clothes. My older brother was away at college, and I did find a couple of things in his closet that worked up to a point, but we weren’t really the same size. I stuck to basics for the new stuff, mainly loose shorts, athletic pants, and T-shirts. I still had a lot of growing to do, and I didn’t want to get things I was just going to grow out of in a hurry. I knew at this point that I looked, dressed, and acted like a total jock, but I was a total jock, and everyone except Chase seemed to forget that I’d ever been anything else.

To be continued

[bowtiepastabitch]

Let's Talk Costuming: A Very Professional Midwife/Cobbler!

At last, the long awaited sequel to Avaunt! aka my post analyzing Aziraphale's (and by extension the other angels as well) costumes from the Job flashback!! I knew Bildad's robes reminded me of something but it has been hiding stubbornly in the back of my memories for weeks, and I was doing myself a little doodle and it came to me, so here we are, friends, buckle up.

For better or for worse (depending who you ask), Crowley's costuming for this bit does not mirror Aziraphale's Renaissance-inspired aesthetic. That is, he is neither buff nor naked, as demons are often shown, nor is he a fucked up little guy

Scene from Michelangelo's Last Judgment, Sistine Chapel altar wall fresco, 1534–41 (featuring buff, naked, fucked up little guys)

The historical evidence that we have for the clothing of ancient Israel is spotty to nonexistent. To my memory, there are no real descriptions of clothing in the Old Testament aside from the instructions for priestly garb. (Note that I'm using "Old Testament" simply because Good Omens is based on a Christian interpretation of religion) None of the art from the period and surrounding time/geographic region, of which there is very very little surviving, depicts clothing anything like what we see in this episode either.

And then it fucking hits me.

It fucking hits me like a sack of bricks.

Weirdly specific Children's bible that stirred up childhood memories so I stole a photo from Amazon; published in 1972

We had this one as a kid, as well as several others, and THAT my friends is what Bildad the Shuhite reminds me of. Modern illustrations of bible stories, especially those used in children's materials. Now Christians are god-awful about giving credit for art, so please forgive me when these don't have sources.

Goodsalt.com has a lot of this stuff labeled as 'religious stock imagery'

This is why the style felt so familiar yet unplaceable: I grew up expecting this as the default outfit for bible stories. If you grew up christian, you're probably at least a bit familiar with this weirdly specific style of art. (Side note: if you have any idea where it came from please let me know, but I can't find any older styles of religious art like it. Anything pre-20th century harkens more to Renaissance style than anything, which in turn is a refresh on Medieval) This is, more than anything, in fact best described as religious stock imagery. It bears a lot of resemblance to clothing worn still in areas thereabout the historical region where this takes place, but it has a distinctive flair that the costume is definitely emulating.

The stripes and colors both feel deeply reminiscent of that art style, and it makes total sense considering this is in fact intended to have the feel of a bible story more-so than any other flashback in Good Omens has. Even the odd floofiness of his beard and hair make sense when put into this context and compared against the beards in the illustrations!

We even see that 'illustrated bible' inspiration right in front of our noses, but my brain didn't even process that because again, this art style is so pervasive it doesn't feel out of the ordinary. It was everywhere in the church I grew up in: posters on the walls in the children's wing, in our bibles and our coloring sheets, all that jazz.

The cheery bright colors, which certainly would not be available as textile dyes for another almost 4500 years, add a definite stylistic flair that makes this not only inspired by modern imaginations, but historically impossible. This of course contributes to the larger theory of how the costumes betray the unreliable narrator which I explore in this post and will almost certainly expand on when the impulse strikes me. The angels can be excused as miraculous, but this is definitive proof that what's happening here is at least in part fictitious, and more importantly for our analysis, that its heavily influenced by MODERN biblical stylization.

Those reds and yellows would have been available sooner, though not 2500 bc soon, but that shade of blue wouldn't be achieved until the industrial revolution and the invention of synthetic dyes in the 19th century. It is, however, very popular in biblical illustrations.

And so, friends, lovers, countrymen, we come to everyone's favorite part. What does this MEAN?

When we talked about Aziraphale and his Renaissance-angel-drag-queen era, the biggest emphasis was on the accentuation of his angelicism and holy glory. He's set apart from the humans in a way we've never really seen the angels before, and he also fits in with the other angels in heaven, who are also dressed ostentatiously to the nines. Crowley, on the other hand, does not have his demonic nature highlighted but downplayed. Instead, he fits in among the humans *almost* flawlessly.

Aside from his incredibly amazing and goofy glasses, which I think are an obvious anachronism of memory, he's dressed in pretty much the exact style as the human people around him, a style hugely shaped by latter 20th century aesthetics of biblical times. From a storytelling perspective, it makes total sense for Crowley to be fitting in among the humans, since he's sympathizing with them and even passing himself off as a human midwife/cobbler right under the angels' noses. He even takes a human name!

From a meta perspective, the modernity of the stylings tells us that whoever is narrating is having their memories shaped by somewhat recent events. However much is true remains under question, and there's tons of fascinating time-fuck theorizing to go around, but whatever is being remembered here is being re-evaluated through the lens of the last fifty or so years max, a mere blink in the eye for our angel/demon duo.

Whether it's the not-pocalypse, the arrival of Gabriel, or something that happened we haven't seen yet, SOMETHING has caused our narrator to reshape these memories recently. The overall character arc of Season 2 belongs to Aziraphale, as he struggles with himself to bring to terms the part of him that sees his own good as an extension of his being an angel and the part of him that can see how awful heaven is, so I think the importance of Crowley being more human than ever while he is more separated from than ever plays a big role in the story we're being told and that will hopefully carry over into season 3.

[granolawriting]

"To make you forget."ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: The day after having your long term boyfriend put an end to your relationship, you find yourself in a complicated relationship with Joel, a friends family friend. He invites you out for a drink after a shotty first impression, and the rest is history. sequel to a change in fate

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers, unprotected piv, praise kink, strong Joel carries you multiple places, pet names (princess, darling, doll, sweetheart), oral (f!receiving), fucking in his clothes, drinking, drunk secret kisses, sleepy kisses, aftercare, spooning.

word count: 5.2k

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the last one <33 please send me requests if you have any idea for what I could write next! enjoy ;)

“No. Fucking. Way.” 

… … … 

You sit across from your friend once more at the same table that held a much more, comfortable conversation the night prior. Eyes catch hers, and an agape mouth is what greets the information just relayed to her over morning coffee.

“No, no okay I must be thinking of the wrong one.” 

“Your dad only has one friend named Joel I thin-” 

“I KNOW!!!” 

… 

“It’s just. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. It's just a little, crazy, is all, that you’re now going on a date with him.” 

“It's not a date-” 

“It so is.” 

You scoff at her implication. 

“You know, there's a thing called ‘southern hospitality’. And he's not wrong about me needing a drink after everything I’ve been through. Maybe he's just good at reading people, trying to get back on how he treated me the other night now that I’m someone he has to be nice to.” 

Your friend purses her lips, trying to think of a counter but coming up short. You were right, there wasn't anything inherently odd about going out for drinks with someone. Especially when you’ve earned it. 

“Though I can't deny, he is kind of cute. For an old guy.” 

And the tower comes crumbling down. 

At the sound of your confession your friend goes into a fit, a groan followed by very exaggerated, nonexistent tears that whine into the floor that her head now faces along the lines of complaint of his age, and the jeans that predate your birth. 

your hand touches her hair, stroking it as to try and ease her out of some melodramatic stupor, telling her that it'dve been bound to happen the moment she tried to push her old guy agenda on you. Kindly telling her that perhaps, she's just a little upset you got one before her. In the process however, admitting that a part of you feels as if you’ve got him-- but pay that no mind of course. It's purely for the joke, to antagonize her. There's no means for you to feel as though you’ve won anything out of a simple night out with a guy who, in the right clothes and lighting, looks kind of okay. 

---------------------

A clock glares at you at a 6:30 timestamp as you stand in your bathroom. There's an array of clothing sprawled across the counter as the attempt to multitask becomes futile in the face of your absolute cluelessness on how to dress to get drinks with a 40 year old man. Was he 40? Who knows, maybe it's stress. Regardless, jeans of all cut from short shorts to flairs stare back at you, and patterns of all sizes leave you helpless. You spit out a bit of toothpaste in your mouth, and as you feel stumped looking at the clothes before you, you can't help but be slightly grateful that your hair and makeup were finished before you had to get dressed. Otherwise, you wouldn't make it out the door til 8. At least. 

Though as you look upon your options an idea sticks to you; some odd desire to dress, a little western. Perhaps not the full hat and spurs, but what could a little plaid hurt? And as you piece together an outfit consisting of low-cut frayed shorts, some simple boots, and a front-tied plaid button-up, you felt ready to perhaps line dance. I mean, who fucking cares anymore. Otherwise, you’d still be stuck in limbo. Better this than nothing. 

Putting on your first earring, a clock now showing 6:43, you hear a knock at the door, followed by said knock being answered by none other than your friend. Curious and afraid of who it may be, but unable to really go down and check as you hinged on being late as is, your questions are solemnly answered at the shrill “UNCLE JOEL!!!!” bounce upon the walls of the house as though she hadn't just seen him the day before. 

The indistinct conversation is held downstairs as you feel horrifically embarrassed to not remember that most gentlemen, arrive 10-15 minutes early. And you, haven't experienced anything but a 10 after honk outside your house your entire life.

As you hurry to dress, the low pitch of his voice, the drawl of his words that you can barely discern from the distance between you two but is still everpresent leaves you with a pit in your stomach of unprecedented anxiety. You had been trying so hard to convince yourself that this was normal, casual, to you, but internally you knew it was nothing but that to you. And that scared you shitless. You've failed to go on a date with anyone else since maybe, 8th grade? The graduation dance? Your whole life you remember one man, and now another seems to blow him out of the water, with unbelievable ease. You worried you wouldn't impress him, that this was your only opportunity to seemingly get something good, that he secretly still has disdain for you after what happened to you two the night before, that he- 

“HEYY!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU COMING DOWN OR WHAT! DON'T KEEP HIM WAITING!!!!” 

You witch. 

Secondhand embarrassment overwhelms any other emotion you had at that moment as a means to get you out the door, as soon as possible. Hurried steps fall down the stairs as you finish putting on your jewelry on the go, holding some within your pocket to finish up in Joel’s car. 

“Hi- oh, I'm sorry I didn't think you’d be here early uh,” 

Eyes lock on a vase of flowers new to the living room, that had not been there when you had last descended the stairs. 

“Well, I didn't want ta’ show up empty-handed. Though it nice ta’ get somethin small for the pretty ladies.” 

A shy smile creeps on his face as he explains the origin of the plants in the house, and a ring of surprise leaves you speechless for a moment. your friend pipes up;

“Isn't that so nice? Well, y'all better have a good time tonight. And don't bring her home too drunk Joel, then she’ll start telling me all her secrets, and I definitely don't want to hear that.” 

A smile and nudge hits him as she finishes her statement. 

Does she always have to be so corny? 

You look him up and down. He wore a faded blue button-up top, with the top few trailing down his chest being unbuttoned. What fell on top of that was a faded brown jacket, a darkened collar, and a sturdy material as its makeup. Jeans that seemed omnipresent on his body, but instead of working boots did he wear what seemed to be brown boots underneath the cuff of his jeans. You could tell he tried a bit with his appearance, seeing traces of gel lining his hair that fell aside his face, and a scent of cologne softly present but still enough to put on an air of intention to impress. 

Joel leads you to his truck, and as you enter it you realize just how much it smells like him. You smell sawdust and gas, with hints of his cologne. It was an old car, but with those scents combined it makes perfect sense to you. You took in the small things as he drove, anticipation welling in your body made everything seem so much more noticeable and intense, every sense in your body heightened at the sight of an unsuspecting Joel sitting to the left of you.

You notice as he bites his fingernails as though it's a habit, a strain upon his fingers down to the very skin of them that coats every finger on both of his hands. 

Both hands fall upon the wheel as he turns into the bar. 

“Finally here. Feelsa lot longer than it did when I was younger, funny thinkin of cause’ when I was ‘bout your age, you couldn’t pull me outta this place.” 

Hahaha when I was about your age. Damn you old man. 

“That mean I’m gonna have to pull you out of here tonight?” 

You look at him with a little smile, but he seems to begin getting out of the car before you can give him a direct look in the eyes. However when he goes around to your side to open your door, as you step out of it with a small jump onto the loose gravel of the parking lot, his eyes trace your body with noticeable intent. He looks at you for just a moment though, and as his eyes turn to meet your own, he just smiles and says; 

“Don't worry sweetheart, I can take my liquor nowadays. ‘Spose that cant be said fer you though, your little friend told me ‘bout yer habits when you drink.”

A satisfied chuckle leaves him that lands you in a pit of fear. What did she tell him. 

Story upon story of less-than-elegant scenes of your drunken stupor flash within your mind before the need to shake them off is immanent as he follows up; 

“Now no sense lookin like that hon, she aint tell me nothin too bad. Should she have? ‘Spose they’ve got virgin drinks now that this place got all prettied up since I last saw it. Just don't want ya pukin in my truck alright?” 

“Oh don't worry, I’ll be fine. I doubt I'll drink all too much anyways.” 

------------------

“ I doubt I'll drink all too much anyways “

That's all that's able to ring through your head as you demand another shot at the counter. Sure, you drank but, 

"you hold it well!"

Or so you thought. But you never really noticed until now how badly you were hurt by what happened to you in the past few days. And when you lose someone you’ve known for 3 years, the inclination to drink past your limit grows ever stronger with every downing of liquor that's not on your tab. And as that realization becomes tucked into the back of your mind with every glass, more does an unfamiliar part of you comes out. One of loud unruliness, in the face of a man you otherwise strived to impress to the greatest degree.

 At this point in the night, he’s had what, 2 beers? The first already probably already having worn off. He was a smart drinker, and you could tell he stayed under the threshold where he couldn't drive anymore, as a means to stay safe for you. And as the drinks poured you made it evident to him how much you appreciated that. Many many times. He wasn't like any man you’d ever been out with anymore. He didn't judge you, or make fun of you. He endorsed whatever made you happy.

Until, of course, a woman comes out of the bathroom to inform him the lady he came with has been nauseous near the toilet bearing on ten minutes. 

“Alright doll, we’ve got to get you home.” 

Drunken slurs of disapproval at that notion dispel from you in the way of elongated “no’s” and “please’s” fill the bar as Joel felt within himself the karma of every man who had needed to do this to him, now having to do this for you. 

“C’mon you know fightin me wont work, I'm much stronger than you darlin’.” 

And with flailed arms still being swung in the general direction of him, he finds this means to deal with you the old-fashioned way.

That being, just picking you up and taking you home that way. And thus, with one fail swoop of an arm and shoulder, you were slung over him in a fireman's carry. Too flushed and furious for a reason you can't quite discern, you throw weak jabs into his back as he takes you out of the bar as though you were nothing but a small child; treating you as though you were no weight at all upon a back hardened by muscle and grit. But even as he brings you to his truck, he lowers you into its passenger seat with nothing less than utter precaution. As though you were a porcelain doll that could break at any sight of rough handling. 

“Alright princess, in you go.” 

Is what’s mumbled under the breath of this gruff and barely buzzed man, now taking care of you as though you were a princess. At least you felt like it, as his arms wrapped around you with ease to shift you into a bridal carry that was a better means of getting you inside with. 

All you can do is say indiscernible things towards him as he says that to you. Not being able to process, at least in the moment, how softly he treated you. And as he closed the door on your side, and opened his own side to drive, you found yourself slowly drifting into a sleep wedged between the truck door and its window. Quite a comfortable situation for the moment, it seemed. 

What awoke you briefly was the feeling of his warm body against yours as he carried you out of his truck once more. This time taking you inside somewhere comfortably warm, inside home. He lays you on a couch that finds much greater comfort than the previous sleeping arrangement. As you lay down there, more than ready for rest he comes by once more to lift your head, a pillow to meet your head as you lay back down. And a blanket to cover you evermore, he made sure your body was tilted sideways. With that, you drift into sleep once more. 

-------------

You wake up, checking a phone clock that shines at you 3:04am against the darkness of the house. Looking around, you quickly notice that, this isn't your house. This is absolutely unfamiliar, from the kitchen to the furniture to especially, the man who slept across from you in a cushioned chair. With strained eyes and a brief flash of your flashlight, it becomes evident that it's Joel. hands crossed across his chest and a slight snore leaving his person with every breath, a pang to your head reminds you of the night you allowed go to waste in the face of drowning your problems. Cursing to yourself the lost potential of a night like this, you also thank whomever above that he chose to take you to his home instead.

 However, the liquor still seemed to have a hold on you as you looked across the living room at the dimly illuminated face of Joel through the moonlight that shone through the window. 

You approached him, slowly. A wobble in every step that when paired with unfamiliar territory meant a lot of close calls on your part, but nonetheless you walked the few feet with no major issue. And there you stood, just inches away from him. His chest rises up and down to the rhythm of his body and the peaceful eyes of a man whose body soaks in any moment of rest it can muster. His mouth was slightly open as he slept, you studied it. Slightly parted were two brightly colored lips that were covered on its top by the growth of his mustache, and its bottom being overgrown by a quarter-inch beard that coats the lower half of his face.

You lean in closer, something overtaking you that can only be explained by drunken lust. So close in fact, that you can feel the heat of his breath upon yours. It's intoxicating. You haven't felt this kind of feeling in your heart for years, this desire to do something you didn't know the consequences of. The excitement of something new overtook you. Without any more thought, you close the gap. Feeling his lips against yours as he’s non the wiser, all but a simple kiss against his lips is all you needed to satiate this urge you’d had bubbled within yourself since you first heard his voice downstairs while you got ready. 

At least, you thought. But as you tasted the liquor on his lips and smelled the remnants of cologne on his neck you couldn't help yourself. One kiss became two, to three, to fo- 

A mumble stopped you in your tracks. You shot up what seemed like 10 feet, stumbling far enough away to absolve suspicion from your highly odd acts, to say the least. 

His eyes slowly flutter open, followed by a groan and a stretch of his arms and legs wakes him up enough to address you. With fingers rubbing his eyes, he asks; 

“Hey, are’ya finally up?” 

Groggy, raspy, deep, whatever the fuck you want to say. It was everything. A just woken Texan man with the rasp and the drawl all together could finish you off right then and there. 

You search for words, excuses, anything to respond to him with. Panicked, you say the first thing that comes to your mind. 

“Oh yeah, I uh. I wanted to ask if I could take a shower maybe? Soak off the rest of this drunk. Is that, would that be alright?” 

You look for his eyes in the dark of night, and as they meet yours he forms a reply, 

“Course ya’ can. It's uh, just down there to the left. In my room.” 

“Thank you” 

Making your way down the dark corridors you find his room, and an entrance envelopes you in a part of his life. You see the things that he values enough to keep within his room, the set of sheets he sleeps on every night. The mementos that make his life fleshed out before you. And of course, the guitars. Of course, he plays the guitar, I mean what the hell else is he supposed to do. 

You stumble into the bathroom, impressively kept for only housing a single man. Within there do you mindlessly strip your clothes, opting to shower as soon as possible just to not make him any more suspicious of the things you’re doing in his own home. 

---------

Stepping out, however, having used his shampoo and body wash in an oddly exciting experience of smelling exactly like him, do you grapple with the uncomfortable realization you have no clothes to wear after you do all of this. You step out of the water, turning it off, and grabbing a towel to wrap around you a few things pass through your mind. Whether you go, and ask him for clothes. Or, if you just take them for yourself. Both have quite interesting endings to them, however, the latter seems to be more enticing. And you begin to realize perhaps it isn't the liquor that’s making you act like this, it's pure unadulterated lust. 

Walking into his room once more do you rummage through drawers and closets looking for something wearable. And within it do you find an insanely dated rock shirt, and a pair of his boxers to suit your desired amount of cover. 

You walk into the living room once more, a new wardrobe adorning you, you notice that the light is now turned on; he’s stayed awake. With a bit more caution in your step you watch as you round the corner of the living room he’s stood in the kitchen, cooking some sort of tea. Wearing little else than a pair of plaid pants to sleep in. 

“Ah he-” 

Turning to face you does he stop in his tracks as he observes you. Smelling like him, dressed in his attire, you realize that there's no man alive who could properly see that and act normal about that. Even the southern gentleman stood before you. He places the container of honey he held for his recipe down on the counter and approaches you slightly; 

“I see you’ve found some clothes then? Was thinkin a’ bringin some of Sarah's stuff in fer ya, but I’ve got to say that this is a bit better of a sight.” 

A smirk grows on his lips as he looks at you, a sense of desire that he had previously covered came to the surface as he saw you within his clothes. Assuming that was the only reason as to why.  

Walking towards you does he move a stray piece of hair from your face to the back of your ears, looking at you from above he speaks again in a deeper, more domineering voice; 

“Now I won't play stupid with you sweetheart. I felt all that stuff you were doing ta’ me, didn't think it’d be the first thing you’d do wakin up in a stranger's house. But can't say I'm all too mad at it.” 

He cups your face with his palms and lifts your chin to look up at him. 

“And now yer standing here in all my clothes, covered in me. Wasn't plannin on saying anything ‘bout it til you walked in here lookin like that. Now I don't think I can rightly resist darlin’.” 

Before you can let out a word edgewise, he takes you into a kiss of his own, making sure to taste every part of you as you did him, down to the back of your neck where his tongue quickly traveled where traces of your night still burned your taste buds.

You let a moan escape, purely out of shock are you so vocal. Closing your eyes, you let the brush of his beard on your face, and the rough kiss of his lips guide you to wherever he’d want you to go. 

After a few more moments of this, he lets up. For breath, but also to talk to you for a moment. His hands still cupped to your face, some of his fingers tracing their steps from the roots of your hair he had been grabbing just a moment prior.

“You wear all that pretty getup, and then you get all drunk on me. Spewin ‘bout how great I am, how kind I am. How you’ve never been shown anything like me. But let me tell you, sweetheart, I’ll make sure to show ya how a real man treats a woman like you.” 

He grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up in the air to wrap your legs around his waist. He walks you over to the room you’d just left moments prior and doesn't fail to kiss you every moment he can in the small walk to his bedroom. Kicking open the door cracked open, he’s finally able to dump you onto his bed as he crawls on top of you. 

“Spread yer fuckin’ legs, baby” 

You listen intently. Doing just what he asks, do they fall to the side of you with as far apart as you can make them. Feeling his calloused hands as they trace your waist from beneath his shirt, until he slowly teases the waistband of his boxers. Pulling them down slowly reveals only your naked body beneath them. 

“Such a pretty sight aren't ya? And so much for me already, what a good girl.” 

He wastes no time to dip his face within your heat. Sopping up every drip that seeped from you from the moment you’d first kissed him. Feeling his tongue venture to every crevice, every fold inside of you makes your hands grip onto his sheets as a means to hold yourself down at the feeling of his tongue all around you. 

Moaning filled his room as he pleased you, an empty house allowing the echo of your sound to make the neediness of his tongue on you to sound even greater. 

He grips onto your thighs a bit harder as he lets up for a moment. 

“Now listen, I'm gonna need ya’ to stay still alright darlin’? I'm gonna change it up a bit for ya.” 

Going back in, you feel his tongue enter you entirely. Inside of you, up and down did he hit every part of you that made you weak and spazzed under his grip. The shake of your legs was only stopped by the iron grip he kept on them to make sure they stayed open no matter how badly you wanted them closed instinctively. The feeling of him inside of you sent shocks like lightning across your body at every flick of his tongue, at every hum to your clit while he relished in your stomach growing concave and your breath hitching and whining at every slight moment he made towards you. 

“Joel- fuck. Fuck I feel like I'm going to cum.” 

You plead for him not to stop. To never stop to please you to climax. 

And he does exactly that. He toys with you and fucks you until you’re nothing but a screaming mess with him inside of you. Grabbing onto his hair, to the sheets, everything you can as your body convulses entirely by the work of his mouth alone. 

He slowly lets up, not forgetting to tease your sensitive clit for a moment longer before going to look at you. A face coated in your juices, he looks upon you with a toothy grin and a sense of satisfaction upon his face. 

“Been a while since I've done all that. Glad ta know I’ve still got it in me, sweetheart.” 

He stands up, and what greets you is a bulge that comes purely from his adoration for being able to please you as he just did. He loved watching you like that, losing yourself at his touch, being able to do nothing but scream his name until your brain went numb to anything but the thought of him. 

Out of breath with beads of sweat covering your face, you sit yourself up to better face his heat. Palming it with his hands before he could say another word, you watch his head buck up to reveal a neck and shoulders coated with tense muscle at the feeling of your hand on him. 

“Fuck darlin;. Been a while since I’ve felt any a’ that either” 

A voice interrupted by the pitch shifts of a man insanely desperate for your touch makes you well aware of what you need more than anything else. 

You continued to paw at his bulge, feeling out how big he was just by the crease of his pants beneath your hand as you toyed with it, up and down. Slowly stroking it and toying with its base. His head, and watching as each motion elicited a harsh breath to escape him as he bucked his knees ever so slightly as you continued. 

He looks down at you, and as he watches your eyes look up at him from his waist, he takes you into his arms once more. Lifting you to turn you on your back, does he lay right on top of you as your stomach lays on the bed and his body atop of yours. 

You feel his bulge between your ass, and ass he makes quick of removing all other layers, you feel how solid he is right against your back. Heavy breath met in your ear before he did anything else. 

“I’m going to make you forget feelin’ any other kind of way. The only thing you’re ever gonna remember after tonight is my cock, alright princess?” 

He takes that as a means to move it to right between your thighs, right outside your entrance do a few strokes to feel how wet you are, giving way to his tip right on your clit, up and down. That alone could finish you for a second time, but as his cock entered you you saw as his eyes rolled in the back of his eyes at the feeling of being inside of you. 

He was big, almost too big. You felt as though he was almost ripping you apart, in the best way possible. It felt so fucking good to have him slowly go into you. Feeling as with every inch closer to completely inside of you it got harder and harder for him to keep a steady pace with how badly he wanted to fuck you. 

“Fuck you don't know how badly I’ve wanted this darlin’. Can’t have even imagined how tight you’d be. You’re perfect for me.” 

As he got completely inside of you, you felt him curl over you and use one of his arms to grip your upper body as a means of support. When he went in and out of you, curling you upwards to arch your back and feel completely every thrust he put into you. 

He couldn't control himself anymore. The kind gentleman you had let open the door for you when you entered the car now dripped beads of sweat upon your naked body as he fucked you like a toy. Grunts and moans fill the room to complement the incessant moans that you scream at the feeling of him inside of you. Using you and fucking wrecking you. You felt yourself getting close again at the feeling of his cock inside of you, until you felt his free hand make its way down to your clit to please you even while he fucked you. 

“I want to make you cum again. Feel how tight you fuckin get on my cock. Think you can do that for me baby?” 

That was more than enough for you. Only after a few strokes were you a shaking mess on top of his cock, just like he commanded of you. At the feeling of your climax wrapped around his cock, he quickened his pace until he pulled out just in time to cum all over your back. Feeling it drip down every crevice of your body as the feeling of his cum shooting on you seemed to go on forever. 

Jagged breath from both you and him is all that fills the silence of the room as you two were both too tired to even speak for a moment. 

“‘Supose I’ll go clean ya up. Least I can do darlin’. You just stay right there, and I’ll get you all cleaned up.” 

And there he goes, into his bathroom. And so you let yourself lay there for a moment, dripping in your own cum as well as his. As you hear him come out from the bathroom you feel the grist of a towel meet your backside as he makes sure to take care of every spot that has him on it with much care as to not leave you uncomfortable. The doting, loving Joel came back the moment it was all over. You could feel it in the soft stroke of the towel upon your bare skin, and the quick tonal shift in his voice as he offered to get that for you in the first place.

“Sure you need these too.” 

He hands you his boxers, and as you put them on he continues. 

"You can sleep in my bed fer tonight, think that’ll be alright. Though, might have’ta join ya, the chair aint all that comfortable. If, ‘course that's alright with you.” 

He just fucked you and is asking if it’s okay to sleep in the same bed. …

All you can muster is a pat on the side of the bed next to you, at which he greatly obliged and meets you beneath the greeting sheets upon his bed. 

And as you drift into sleep once more, mumbling compliments and thanks within his ear as you grow conscious enough again to speak, he greets you in kind with sweet kisses over your face, and eventually, a big spoon to hold you until night's end. 

… 

Epilouge ?

[cellarspider]

30/30 One last thing.

(Previous) | (Index) | ⛬

⛬

We have come to the end of Prometheus. But depending on how you’re feeling about death of the author right now, it’s not. Not quite yet.

Because Ridley Scott had some things to say after Prometheus came out.

Two months after the movie's release, Ridley Scott gave an interview. Its original home has succumbed to link rot, but it’s still available in a couple places, in the Internet Archive and within the corporate acquisition mass that is Fandango, featuring a weird note of brand revisionism in the relabeling of the interviewer’s affiliation.

Now. Let’s begin by saying this: A movie is a movie. The things around a movie are not the movie. This seems obvious, but it’s to say that a single creative work can be viewed entirely free of outside context, and in most cases it’s best to assume that it will. If a director comes out later and tells people what their intent was, then that’s not part of the movie.

…But it can still sit in your brain for years, leaping out to ambush unsuspecting passers-by.

So! This interview. Ohhh, this interview. I’d forgotten most of it, because the final lines of it just knocked the top of my head clean off, so we’ll be discovering bits of this together.

We start from the end of the movie, with the interviewer asking about the openness of the ending to a sequel. Scott, among other things, said:

“I’d love to explore where the hell [Dr. Shaw] goes next and what does she do when she gets there, because if it is paradise, paradise can not be what you think it is. Paradise has a connotation of being extremely sinister and ominous.”

This came across well in the movie, though it was festooned with the random bit of organic bigotry from Shaw toward David. A short answer won’t capture everything, so I still have no idea if Scott intended for that to be so brayingly insensitive, this is the guy who was fine with Joel Edgerton as Ramses II. In any case, Paradise might be ominous, but Shaw’s not bringing along ideas that will improve it by any means.

This isn’t really the film we eventually got from Alien: Covenant. Is that bad? Honestly, I don’t know that either. Shaw as a character did not have a lot of depth in this movie. Noomi Rapace ended up playing her hurt very well by the end of it, but if that’s your standard of quality in horror acting, then Josh Stewart’s leading role in the grungy Saw-adjacent movie The Collector (2009) will serve you well.

I think they could have built something out of her character, but they didn’t. David is definitely the stand-out character from Prometheus, and they do at least focus on him quite a lot. But I’ve yet to watch Covenant, partly because the structure of it does not interest me. Also, because I’ve heard about what David does when he shows up on the new planet, and bad things happening to crowds are one thing that can make my brain wig out something awful.

Speaking of the Engineers, Scott speaks about their character:

“they’re such aggressive f**kers … and who wouldn’t describe them that way, considering their brilliance in making dreadful devices and weapons that would make our chemical warfare look ridiculous? So I always had it in there that the God-like creature that you will see actually is not so nice, and is certainly not God.” 

Again, we find ourselves at the casual gnosticism of the movie, in which the Engineers are kind of the demiurge in this context. Some christian-influenced people assume that if there is a true god, it must be omnibenevolent, and find the violent and threatening behavior depicted in the Old Testament to be at odds with their understanding of divinity. A lack of benevolence is seen as a sign that the figure depicted must be something else, something that may think that it is a god, but it is not truly, regardless of its role as a creator. Hence, the gnostic idea of the demiurge.

But Scott also seems to confirm my suspicion that he’s not aware he’s recreating gnostic cosmogony through Prometheus, because he doesn’t reach for any of the older sources or the language around him. He instead invokes a rather surface reading of Paradise Lost:

“ In a funny kind of way, if you look at the Engineers, they’re tall and elegant … they are dark angels. If you look at [John Milton’s] Paradise Lost, the guys who have the best time in the story are the dark angels, not God. He goes to all the best nightclubs, he’s better looking, and he gets all of the birds. [Laughs]”

Setting aside the fact that Paradise Lost ends with all the fallen angels having a bad time because God’s turned them into snakes, I will give Scott the tiniest bit of credit, there’s a bit of my brain that saw this and thought “this is a strong start”:

Scott eventually continues on the Engineers, and the sacrifice scene at the start:

“That could be anywhere. That could be a planet anywhere. All he’s doing is acting as a gardener in space. And the plant life, in fact, is the disintegration of himself.  If you parallel that idea with other sacrificial elements in history – which are clearly illustrated with the Mayans and the Incas – he would live for one year as a prince, and at the end of that year, he would be taken and donated to the gods in hopes of improving what might happen next year, be it with crops or weather, etcetera.”

Scott is misremembering some things here, which is understandable given the off-the-cuff nature of the remark, but it’s still worth correcting. This is a misattribution of Aztec rituals that would involve the sacrifice of a “teixiptla” representative of a god (such as Xipe Totec, Tezcatlipoca, etc). The Inca didn’t carry out this ritual–they did engage in a human sacrifice ritual called qhapaq hucha, but its form and function was not the same. The Classical Maya also engaged in different human sacrifice rituals, but there was also an emphasis on non-fatal self-administered bloodletting–Maya nobility in particular were often depicted shedding their own blood for this purpose.

This also, to my memory, conflates stories of european human sacrifice rituals, where crop failures are sometimes linked to the sacrifice of kings, such as Dómaldr in the Ynglinga saga, and noted in the placement and treatment of certain bog bodies. The Aztecs did sacrifice to the god Tláloc for crop for good harvests, but the rituals involved were quite different.

It should be noted, of course, that Tláloc was later syncretized with the Christian god during the Spanish conquest, likely as a result of conceptually linking Tláloc’s sacrifices to the demand that Abraham sacrifice Isaac. And, y’know, that conquest was concurrent with the Spanish Inquisition, and the wider religious belief that a heretical witch army was being organized by Satan to stand against God to forestall the Second Coming of Christ, with crop failures being the most feared result of their rituals.

I’ve added all these details not because I want to say Scott is bad for misattributing this stuff, people make mistakes. I have several hours’ access to the internet, Scott did not. However, it is worth noting: How we frame an idea can say a lot about how we conceive of it. Variations on these behaviors are found throughout history, and across cultures. Sacrifices and martyrs are powerful symbols still invoked in western culture today. There’s a potential wandering back and forth between appreciation and exoticization that Scott’s engaging in.

Then Scott says something that made me get up from my chair to find a book to shake at my computer.

“I always think about how often we attribute what has happened to either our invention or memory. A lot of ideas evolve from past histories, but when you look so far back, you wonder, Really? Is there really a connection there?”

Yes.

Yes there is. Ancient peoples weren’t stupid. Ancient peoples didn’t even necessarily have less information to work with than any one modern human, they just had different information that kept them alive and finding solutions to their problems, be it “I need to find food” or “how do I meaningfully participate in my culture’s artistic and governmental traditions, and should they even be followed at all?”

If you want a great and thorough examination of that, check out the book I gesticulated with.

Highly recommended. Graeber was an anthropologist and Wengrow is an archaeologist, and the two of them together are a force to be reckoned with. There are definitely subjects covered in this book that I’ve seen from different angles before, and I feel like their interpretation pulls in more context than I’d gotten previously. Especially pertinent to this, the first part of The Dawn of Everything is spent examining the origins of modern western thought on “primitive” cultures and their character and capacity, and then digging into what evidence we actually have on the subject.

But the movie does not, fundamentally, engage with cultures outside of westernized, christian thinking. Not to any serious extent, anyway. It has a certain worldview, and that’s fine. That can be explored intelligently, although we’ve seen that I think it squanders that chance. It’s fundamentally a christian-centric movie.

And despite Scott’s protestations in the interview that they toned it down, quite a few readers have already guessed how far Scott originally intended to go on that.

“But if you look at it as an “our children are misbehaving down there” scenario, there are moments where it looks like we’ve gone out of control, running around with armor and skirts, which of course would be the Roman Empire. And they were given a long run. A thousand years before their disintegration actually started to happen. And you can say, “Lets’ send down one more of our emissaries to see if he can stop it.” Guess what? They crucified him.”

Yes. Jesus of Nazareth was actually Jesus of Space.

This is why the movie says the Engineer corpse died about 2000 years ago. This is why they decided to destroy humanity. 

Presumably the original quote on the cross was “Father, forgive them, for they know not that we’ve got deadly black goo.” Engineer 23:34, I guess.

Now that the screams in the audience have hopefully settled down, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH.

Alright. So, this is bad. Let’s break down why, beyond the obvious questions about “why does nobody ever draw Jesus as bald, huge, and ripped.”

There’s a fake script circulating that actually has a decent interpretation of this: a human kid got zwooped up to be taught the ways of the Engineers, and sent back as an emissary. Why? Dunno. Also apparently the gospels that mention Mary and Joseph fleeing to Egypt with the baby Jesus were off the mark by a few lightyears.

This is laughable to christians, because “what if Jesus was an alien” is the sort of thing that twelve year olds come up with. It’s offensive if it’s taken seriously, because it says their literal god was actually a mortal critter from outer space. Ha! Your god is not all-powerful, or all-good. He’s not even All-Might.

But you know what’s almost worse? It implies that, sure, Christianity isn’t the inspired word of a deity. It also implies some level of exclusive factual accuracy to Jesus’ teachings, not shared with other religions. Jesus was a celestial emissary, endowed with the teachings that could save humanity, and his death doomed the Earth to the Last Judgment.

The Torah is insufficient, and all Rabbinic literature was produced following the rejection of the true way to salvation. The enlightenment of the Buddha counted for nothing, the Dao is not the way, Vishnu cannot defend or restore dharma, the Prophet Muhammad is only so valid as his acknowledgment of the Prophet Īsā ibn Maryam. 

All other faiths are superfluous under this premise. If people had just listened to Jesus and accepted him as their savior, everything would’ve been fine!

This is the one point of alien contact with western canon in the entire setting, after the deep prehistory of Skye. Every other literate culture that was contacted got the Engineers’ message wrong. Or they didn’t listen. Only christians got it right.

That’s incalculably bad. That’s not even counting the fact that the wall o’ artifacts that Shaw and Holloway presented included a notable oversight: the only two artifacts further from Europe than the Middle East are chronologically impossible, based on the movie’s own timeline. It implies the rest of the world was thrown in as an afterthought.

This whole Jesus thing is a piece, a big, jagged piece of why this movie drives me so far up the wall that I’m now residing on the ceiling. It’s not, as far as I can tell, actively malicious. It’s just dumb. It wasn’t thought through the way it should’ve been. If they wanted to do a movie like this, they should’ve gone all-in. Really dig into the implications of what they’ve done. 

And the movie seems wholly ignorant of it. There are basic questions presented to the audience, but there’s no deeper consideration that could make this respectful to anybody.

So, what are we left with?

A mess. A beautiful, stunted, confused mess that was poorly served by its script and lack of conviction.

The movie turned away from asking big questions, and focused instead on traditional horror. A genre that works best with good characterization to drive audience investment, but then it cut out most of the characterization, and what it left was scattershot. It gave us a flashback of Shaw’s childhood before we’d even really met her to understand why it was meaningful for her. The movie then failed to add any emotional weight to her.

The movie failed to give us characters with emotional weight or intelligence. It gave us a single, compelling character in David, driven largely by Michael Fassbender’s delivery and physical performance. It gave us a tactile, carefully constructed setting that was beautiful and often an accomplishment in filmmaking craft, but these spaces remained emotionally empty without a story that gave them meaning. It gave us the potential of something new, and then retreated to imitate the old.

I went into the theater in 2012 looking forward to a good film. I suppose this one has stuck with me more than a good film would have, but its primary value is as a flawed thing to critique, to learn from, and to put tooth marks on when the frustration gets to be too much.

Prometheus got one sort-of sequel in Alien: Covenant (2017), and it seems to have been abandoned. The first trailer for Alien: Romulus just came out the day I’m writing this, and it looks like it’s going to be just a monster movie.

If you want a good, modern Alien, play or watch Alien: Isolation (2014). Apparently its content was recut into a web series in 2019, though I can’t speak to the quality of that. For now, I’m done with the series. I’m not going to be rushing out to see anything new, because I don’t think it’s doing anything new. Prometheus could’ve been a chance to do that, but it failed.

Still. Writing this was fun, I will admit. My weird little obsession with this movie turned into a month and a half of writing and prepping this thing, totaling–Jesus E. Christ, over 82,000 words. I wish it could’ve been about something that hid more intellectual heft or careful thought than Prometheus did, but hey! There’s always next time.

And there will in all likelihood be a next time, as I’ve already started on another document. It won’t be for quite a while, though. This was a lot of fun, but a lot of work as well. I’ll be taking a break, and only releasing more stuff once I have it fully written ahead of time, as opposed to how I handled this one.

Thank you, brave readers, for making it this far. 

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Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2023%E2%80%932024_Sundhn%C3%BAkur_eruptions#Eruptions

https://tubitv.com/movies/314320/the-collector 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dettifoss 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Codex_Magliabechiano 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tollund_Man 

https://youtu.be/nT2ueyFrVgk 

https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407316113 

https://nebula.tv/videos/hellofutureme-is-netflixs-avatar-any-good 

Overflow Ramble 1

Hey, does anyone else remember Stephen Speilberg’s War of the Worlds (2005)? I saw that in the theater, and I cannot watch that thing again. Yes, I was younger, but the overall content of that movie absolutely shredded my nerves to pieces. Even though I’d grown up knowing the full H G Wells story and reading things like The Tripods book series as a kid, Spielberg managed to make a movie that felt so viscerally unpleasant to me that it gave me nightmares for years.

My main theory is this: You know in movies that the protagonist is almost certainly going to survive what happens, doubly so in War of the Worlds because it was goddamn Tom Cruise. But my brain did not treat Tom Cruise as my viewpoint character. Something in me says “well, I’m not Tom Cruise, I’m one of those other people around him, and they’re all gonna die horribly.” 

This tends to happen with me in disaster films and similar stuff like that. I have to be real certain I want to be there if I watch a kaiju movie, for example. I can do Godzilla (2014), but I’m not so sure about Godzilla Minus One (2023). Shin Godzilla (2016) is off the table.

Horror movies have to hit a balance of giving people a rickety feeling of potential safety they want to preserve, rather than letting them feel too safe or too screwed. Too far either way and you lose people, either to apathy or just pure bad vibes. The paradox of enjoyable horror is that it can’t scare you too much.

Overflow Ramble 2

I personally don’t think the tone of Fede Álvarez’s horror fits with what I’m looking for in an Alien movie. The xenomorph life cycle worked best and most subversively when it was deliberately targeted, to take the sexual/reproductive menace usually placed on female characters in horror and forced it onto a male character instead. Álvarez has historically played that trope straight instead. From a horror perspective, that’s boring to me. The xenomorphs also appear to be aggressive monsters here rather than animals, more like Aliens than Alien. Not my favorite interpretation.

And to be honest, when I saw the trailer, my first thought was “Oh, it’s Sevastopol Station.” The setting looks exactly like Alien: Isolation, and there’s not a chance the movie’s going to outshine Isolation. That game’s only narrative sin was a bit of slow pacing toward the ending. Romulus’ trailer makes me think it’s going to go too far in the other direction.

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[neonganymede]

[A scene from fyosiglai play until dawn, a hypothetical sequel to Bad Decisions

A link to the scene they're playing in Until Dawn. Warning for typical horror game violence! ]

“Well, that’s not an obvious death trap or anything,” Sigma muttered as he listened to the girl onscreen try to call out to the disembodied voice leading her the wrong way. “Just keep following Sam.”

Nikolai didn’t react at first, so Sigma glanced over to see if he’d dozed off. They’d been playing this game for a while, and he didn’t even want to think about what time it could be. Instead of snoozing, Nikolai wore a strange expression on his face, one that Sigma recognized as his I’m-about-to-do-Something-Stupid grin.

Immediately, Sigma’s stomach dropped.

“Nikolai, no.”

“Aw, but Sigma! What if that’s our friend down there? We have to investigate!” Nikolai insisted, his innocent tone completely at odds with the manic glee that brightened his eyes. He clicked on the decision to investigate the voice, and Ashley moved forward on the screen.

Sigma tried to stay calm as he watched Nikolai fearlessly march his character toward the voice, accompanied now by the jerking sound of someone or something pushing against a locked trap door. His heart lurched each time the wooden door did, frantic and violent, and Sigma’s attempt to swallow his nerves only ended up with the sour taste of anxiety clinging to his tongue. 

Nikolai paused in front of the door, taking a moment to snicker gleefully to himself. He turned his gaze toward Sigma, his smile mean and vicious, and Sigma had an immediate flashback to their playthrough of The Quarry, particularly the moment where Nikolai ‘convinced’ Fyodor to open the trap door even though it was the most obvious death flag in the game.

“It’s clearly a trap,” Sigma tried again, already resigned to poor Ashley’s fate. He was honestly surprised she had survived this long with Nikolai controlling her, but this seemed like it would be a particularly brutal way to go. “That’s not Jessica. You know that.”

Nikolai hummed to himself, rocking from side to side as he completely ignored Sigma’s plea to save Ashley from an unfortunate end. He clicked the button, and his character bent down in front of the trap door. “But it could be, Sigma! What if we’re killing poor Jessica by leaving her to die here?”

“It’s not Jessica!”

“It sounds like her!”

“You know these creatures can mimic human speech! It’s not her! Fedya, please tell him!” Sigma turned to Fyodor, expecting support from the least likely source.

Fyodor yawned, and Sigma could read clear boredom in his violet eyes. He seemed utterly impassive from within his blanket burrito, too tired for Nikolai’s nonsense or Sigma’s pleading. He likely didn’t care what happened here, likely hadn’t cared for a while, but maybe he would see reason and stop Nikolai’s antics before they got another one of their characters killed!

So when Fyodor leaned his head forward as though to listen to the voice and make a formal declaration, Sigma wasn’t sure why he was so surprised by the result.

“I think Nikolai’s reasoning makes perfect sense. That could be Jessica, or it could be a monster. We will never truly know unless we open the door… correct?” Fyodor’s eyes glittered with mischief, and his mouth curved into a devilish smile the moment Nikolai began cheering from the other side of the couch.

“Guess not! Let’s open the door!”

“Are you kidding me?!” Sigma grumbled, jostled back and forth by Nikolai’s incessant bouncing. He faced the screen again, his teeth caught between his lower lip as he watched Nikolai happily undo the latch to the trap door.

The door opened, and all went quiet. Then the creature burst through the opening, and Sigma yelped in time with Ashley. He watched in horror as the monster grabbed the girl by the face, but the screen cut away before he had to see her head ripped off. He still had to listen to the crunch, the thud, and he covered his eyes to keep from seeing her disembodied head falling into view.

“Oospie! Guess it was a trap!” Nikolai practically howled with laughter, and he kicked his feet out in unrestrained glee at the carnage he had caused.

“What do you mean, oopsie!? Of course it was a trap! Ugh! How is this game both better and worse than the other one?!” Sigma wailed, not looking at the screen again until he heard the trap door close with another resounding thud.

“Really? I thought The Quarry’s death scenes were so much better! More blood! More violence! And we got to chop somebody’s arm off!”

“I did like the werewolves better,” Sigma admitted as he hesitantly returned his attention to the screen.

The point of view had shifted to Chris now, so Nikolai happily handed the controller over to Fyodor, entirely oblivious to Sigma’s tired glare. Undeniably pleased with himself, he snuggled up to Sigma and began to cover the side of his face in a plethora of chaotic kisses.

“Aw, don’t worry, Sigma! I’m sure that won’t happen again!”

“It better not!”

“Listen to Kolya. Do you truly believe that this game would try to trick us with the same scenario when we just saw what happened to poor, sweet Ashley?” Fyodor teased as he followed the same path that Nikolai had.

To the same intersection. To the same pause, the same voice, the same decision—

Sigma sighed, defeated, as Fyodor’s click the option to investigate the voice. Nikolai’s feral giggles returned, and he leaned forward in anticipation of yet another gruesome decapitation.

And as Chris lumbered toward his own death, Sigma wondered why he’d agreed to play this after all the horrors he’d endured last time. Why had he expected this to be any different? Why hadn’t he learned his lesson?

“After all, what fool would make the same mistake twice?”

[luninosity]

It’s funny, I’d actually been putting off making this post, even though of course I’m thrilled at the book release and seeing Sam and Leo get their happy ending! But it comes with a lot of feelings.

But, first – yes, In Focus is out now! As of last weekend, from JMS Books! Book two of two, of the Character Study duology – in which supporting actor Leo and photographer Sam meet each other’s families (including Benvolio the cat!), and navigate press tours and coming out, and help their friends when a crisis happens, and find their happy ending!

It’s got a lot of emotions because it’s really the last story in the whole Character Bleed universe (as far as I know, anyway) – the original Colby/Jason trilogy, all the bonus stories, and this spin-off because Leo demanded his own book…I’ve had these characters living in my head and being excitedly loud in my writer-brain for so many years. They’re friends. I’ve written little crossovers with some of my favorite other characters – with Colby and Jason meeting Ben and Simon, who were the main characters from my first-even published M/M story, years ago! (That was “Leather & Tea,” if you’re wondering, and the crossover stories are “Coffee & Tea” and “Coffee & Tea: Epilogue,” which is, er, quite spicy!) That felt like such a full-circle moment – it was lovely.

And it’s so odd thinking that this is really it. (Okay, technically my story for the JMS Books holiday advent calendar this year is in the Character Bleed universe! But it’s a one-shot with all new characters – they might go on a date to see a Colby Kent film, but there’s no real crossover!) And I know it is the end – we’ve left everyone in a wonderful happy place, and the characters aren’t metaphorically tugging on my sleeve and popping up with a new idea about home renovation or baking contests, not anymore. I suspect that’s how my head knows it’s probably time for the next thing. (Yep, I’ve got some Ideas. Probably more in the fantasy realm…there’s the Apprentice’s Luck sequel, and story about Lorre’s daughter, and the next Aric/Em short story, and the third Regency Magicians book with @thebestpersonherelovesbucky, among said ideas…)

But this is still the biggest story I’ve ever written, counting all those books and bonus stories, and it’s been so much a part of me – it’s the story I’ve done the most outlining for (ever!), had random ideas for whilst driving home from campus, got the Good Sex Award runner-up nod for, looked up historical ship parts for, thought up terrible bread puns for…I’m so very very proud of it. I loaf it.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for sharing Colby and Jason and Leo and Sam with me. Thank you for the conversations in comments, and for the fan art and fan fic and fan trailer for Steadfast-the-movie – it’s a delight and a joy and an honor to see people making awesome things, creative things, because you love these characters too.

(Y’know, it’s also funny – I realized how many tropes I wrote into this book that I don’t normally write! It’s a coming out story, there’re kids around in the form of Sam’s sisters – well, teens, but still – there’s [sort of] a third-act breakup, or at least a needing some space, for good reasons, mind you, and it doesn’t really last that long…but all of that is just really what this story wanted to be! Of course Leo would have to be dramatic and unusual. Of course.)

So I hope you enjoy In Focus! It’s also got rather more fish and seahorse references than I expected. But everyone needs a rainbow crystal fish comfort object once in a while…

Oh, and this book also has one of my favorite playlists! I do usually have a plan for those, some more than others, and this one just…every song fits so well. I’ll probably make a separate post commenting on some of those choices, sometime, but I did start this playlist off with one of my very favorite songs (at least top five, maybe top two), which I’d been saving for the right story, and it felt right here for Sam and Leo, celebratory and tentative and determined and hopeful and full of explorations, all at once – that’s “Aside” by The Weakerthans:

…and I’m leaning on this broken fence Between past and present tense And I’m losing all those stupid games That I swore I’d never play But it almost feels okay

Circumnavigate this body Of wonder and uncertainty Armed with every precious failure And amateur cartography…

(and yes, if you know me from Stucky fandom circles, you might know which other fic I've used that song in! it's also a story I have a lot of Feels about. <3 )

[piglet26]

Alright, Is the Star Wars Fandom Sexist?

As you probably know Daisy Ridley signed onto do another Star Wars film. I welcomed this..... mostly. If they don't reunited the Dyad I'm very curious as to what would be the point (more on that later.) Well, I saw this quote from a recent interview of hers, "I think my take is things get blown out of proportion and the interactions I've ever had with people have been nothing but wonderful and supportive," Ridley said. "I've only ever been embraced. And I think we're going to make a great film."

Now whether or not Ms. Ridley actually feels this way.......she's intelligent enough to say just this. Undeniably, all of the men who have talked shit about her for the past 7,8 odd years will now have softened to her for simply not holding them accountable. Hey, that's the biz kids. Don't make enemies out of your audience. No man wants to be called a sexist even if he actually is one.

Is there sexism in Star Wars? Yes and no. It has never been a straight answer. Now if you ask a lot of men in the Star Wars fandom if they are sexist..... they'll say no. Why? Princess Leia of course! Padme! Strong women who directed men, issued orders and politically led. They did and do support these women. In fact, if you had asked me if the fandom was sexist prior to The Sequel Trilogy I would've said that the SWF is one of the most progressive fandoms for women and has been since the 70s!

Where did it all go wrong?

Well, maybe this

Or, this

Maybe just good ole fashion paranoia. Personally, I think it's a combination of all three. The minute Disney bought Star Wars the fandom was primed to distrust it. Change, for better or worse, was on the horizon. Hell, even worse, corporate change. It's Rage against the Machine raging FOR the machine. Least we forget how Star Wars started...... as a "fuck you" to corporatized assembly-line movie production.

However, we are not her to discuss whether The Sequel Trilogy was good. Debatable..... with the exception of Reylo. That's just iconic. We are here to discuss how on earth Daisy Ridley ending up bearing the majority of the responsibility for its failures. Maybe even more importantly the "Feminization" of Star Wars.

A sane person could tell that. The same people screaming "Star Wars is Dead" for the last seven years are still saying the eulogy. Still going on whining and complaining about it. There is a general rule when franchise start to go off the track - you ignore it was ever made. Godfather 3? Tokyo Drift? Never happened.

If you don't like what Star Wars has become then the first person on your shit list should be it's creator. George Lucas. George could've signed over Star Wars under the guarantee that whatever outline he produced for The Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Disney HAD to stick to - he didn't. He could've signed on a producer - he didn't. He could've picked someone else except Kathleen Kennedy to replace him - he didn't. Somehow George Lucas has escaped any responsibility in what his life's work has become. Maybe the fandom got it out of their system after the Prequel Road Rage.

News that George Lucas's treatments were thrown out and the extended universe being cancelled didn't exactly calm down the public.

Maybe the next person should JJ Abrams and Kathleen Kennedy for for thinking that there was something wrong with Star Wars. Star Wars already was diverse. It already HAD strong females. Yet, there they went finding problems that didn't exist. Why? Money. Disney has a powerful female/family demographic. Star Wars a strong male demographic. Disney sought to combine the best of all worlds in one franchise and they were the company to do it. Look at what they accomplished with Marvel!

Then the announcement came that there would be a female protagonist. A female Jedi to be exact. I thought this was different and interesting. The men did not. What they saw in there head was THE FORCE IS FEMALE in flashing bright lights. This was it. Confirmation. Star Wars was about to get pussyfied. From the get-go Daisy Ridley's Rey was to be a focus, a target, for the mistrust, uneasiness and rage from the men.

Let's me be clear men are ok girls liking their stuff. As long as girls are not in a position to influence whatever it is they like, or rather "ruin it." Can you blame them? If a bunch of straight dudes came in and started writing Sex and the City I'm telling you- they'd ruin it.

The Force Awakens finally arrives and curiosity was able to lure in even the most salty man. Not to mention the possible joy of seeing Han, Luke and Leia on screen together again. TFA is a perfectly decent film. There were two glaring choices in this film. One, Han is killed. Two, Rey beats Kylo Ren at the end. All things considered we should not have been surprised what the internet had to say. Rey was a Mary Sue. Men who didn't even know what a Mary Sue was were even saying this.

The term “Mary Sue” was first coined in 1973. A young main character, usually a woman, who was portrayed as unreasonably gifted across every discipline: intellect, combat, the arts, etc. This character would often become respected (and maybe even loved) by main characters and would end the story by saving the day in heroic fashion.

You don't have to like Rey. You don't have to love her. Rey isn't even the greatest character ever developed, but come on! I wonderer if the people criticizing her even watched the movie. I heard criticism that Rey was too likable! Well, she's the protagonist. She's too pretty! That's a bad thing? She's too nice! She comes off really brash and naive actually. She's the greatest pilot ever! She flew once and not that well. Most of the criticism around Rey was disingenuous and petty as hell.

Many critics have taken the lazy route of she has no character arc or character, but that’s not a very observant take. Her yearning for family and her desperation for her parents to return, while understandable, made her vulnerable to Kylo Ren. Her loneliness made her ultimately vulnerable to anyone who would be nice to her. Now I understand there was no consequences for her faults. However, there can't be both criticism. She either doesn't have a personality, or, she has one, but doesn't suffer consequences for it.

“How could she fly the Millennium Falcon so well?” “How could she beat Kylo Ren when she’d never used a lightsaber before?” “How could she resist Kylo Ren’s interrogation?” The film answered most of these questions. Ironically, no one questioned the 8 year old Anakin Skywalker or the farm boy Luke Skywalker for being amazing or great at anything because of The Force.

She grew up defending herself in melee combat. Her quarterstaff is not a lightsaber, of course, but it was established early on that she has the instincts and the reflexes to hold her own in a fight. While I don't agree with Rey beating Kylo Ren I understand how it was accomplished. Pure, dumb luck. It was luck that Ren was physically and spiritually crippled during their confrontation. Not to mention he had the hots for you. Finn was able to hold him off mostly because Kylo was toying with him, but when he grew bored Finn ended up face first in the snow. No one questioned how Finn the janitor could wield a lightsaber.

Let's talk about Finn, or rather John Boyega. All things considered pretty lucky guy. He got a likable that he played well and got paid well. You wouldn't know it by listening to him. He complained bitterly. He attacked the fans. He attacked Disney. He attacked America. He got off Scott free with fandom. Most remember him with nothing but fondness. Maybe because he is black people feel slightly uncomfortable going after him. But, the women? No problem. Even when fans hate male characters, they talk about what they hate with nuance.

Daisy Ridley did her job and she went home. She carried on beautifully and respectfully with what she was given by the production team. That is all any actor can do. The same would apply to the girl who played Rose Tico. Yet, criticism of what was happening on screen started to bleed onto the actresses in real life.

Mark Hamill shit talked the Sequel Trilogy - fair, enough. But why did you sign on? It he because he needed a job? Hondo wasn't a great leader. I agree. But, countless people ended up losing their lives due to Poe because he refused to listen to the female authority around him. Where was the fandom with their logic bitterness scorecard? The majority of the criticism I heard (Literally several videos on Youtube) was criticism towards Hondo for not telling a newly demoted soldier all of her plans.

Anywho Rey has this new movie coming out...........okay. Not sure who wants to come back for it other than her. After TROS and the fans most co-stars seem good doing other things. OG characters are killed off. There is one person with stunning jet black hair, 6'3, plush naturally red lips, a big dick, freckles and a heroic run that she's in a dyad with that would make this whole movie worth it. Do I faith they'll do the right thing and pay Adam Driver whatever they need to to bring him back? No. Cause there is a little bit of an agenda. For some reason love in the Star Wars universe doesn't do very well, but for the woman it's none existent. The concept that a strong woman doesn't have to die alone seems odd to the very people that want equality for women. For example I saw this comment, "Rey Skywalker is her own character and her continuing story doesn’t have to revolve around Ben Solo. Daisy Ridley’s return shouldn’t be overshadowed by fan expectation over Adam Driver returning."

Yes, it does. This film needs to work. I cannot stress that enough. You know people want to see this film fail. Reylo isn't purely for sentimental reasons (I WOULD SEE MY DYAD REUNITED FOUR TIMES IN THEATRES) Reylo is the biggest marketing advantage Disney Star Wars has..... you knew that when Solo flopped. Do the smart thing, put these people on mute and give us a iconic fight fuck scene.

Rey also wear clothes appropriate with her environment and match the physical needs of what she needs to accomplish like her male peers. Logical and refreshing. I hear the men mostly complain about the lack of hot women in their fantasy.

We could also talk about the sexism Carrie Fisher faced from the not only the studio, but the fandom for the crime of getting older and gaining weight. Her in a metal bikini is already in the spank bank - she contributed enough.

Again, neither Carrie Fisher nor Daisy Ridley in a smart world could ever really own that. Anymore than the Rose Tico actress could. Worse, they could never really tell the Fanboys what they really think of them. I love me some Fanboys, I do, but they aren't a perfect group of people. They just criticism everyone's work like they are. We're suppose to ignore the giant dump they take on anything and everything that comes out. I genuinely think the people beyond The Star Wars Sequel Trilogy sought out to create a great story. To honor what came before. In many respect they did. They aren't George Lucas though.

There is legitimate criticism towards Disney for how it has handled the Star Wars franchise. Currently it can't exactly be be described as quality over quantity. The writers seem like they are writing for early 00s Disney Channel rather a complex space political fairytale. Characterization has not been wonderful. Again, it's not simple. While Disney has not steered the ship perfectly. I would argue there was an audience sitting in ill will and waiting to be disappointment.

[dailydragon08]

The Chasm

Sequel to “The Conflict Within.”

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader

Summary:  Luke stays by your side while you recover from a fever in sickbay, both of you still at odds with your ever-crumbling resolve to keep your feelings a secret.

Warnings: some cursing and a bit of a steamy makeout session (no smut).

A/N: "Remnants" is a series one  shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you  and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force.

Read here on AO3.

*

Flashes of memory leapt unbidden behind your eyelids as you slowly started to wake. You remembered the water of the bacta tank surrounding you for a brief moment, Luke’s blurry form on the other side of the wall. You could feel his worry cloud the Force and pressed a hand against the glass. Just as he’d done the same, you’d been yanked upwards. There had been something about a doctor mentioning a fever and the rest was hazy. However, you thought you remembered Luke begging you, please, stay with me. I need you. Come back to me.

Soft sheets pressed against your skin again, your body heavy against the mattress as you opened your eyes to see the rebellion’s sickbay. The green privacy curtain had been drawn and you glanced at the clock to see it read three in the morning. That would explain the quiet and dimmed lights—and the Jedi sitting by your side, one hand clutching tightly to yours while he used your arm as a pillow. Soft snores poured from his mouth, his hair disheveled across his forehead. You couldn’t resist the urge to run your fingers through the soft, sandy strands to push them away from his eyes.

He frowned at your touch, his bleary blue eyes blinking open slowly. He met your gaze and quickly sat up, his hair adorably fluffy from the bed. “Y/N!” He quickly felt your forehead and sighed in relief, his shoulders ticking down several notches. “You don’t feel hot anymore. Thank the Maker.”

You chuckled. “You sound like 3PO.”

“I’ll go find the doctor—”

“No, wait.” You tugged on his hand and he hesitated halfway out of his chair. “I feel okay, really. I just…want to sit here with you.”

He smiled, sinking back down into the chair and rubbing his thumb soothingly across the back of your hand. “Are you warm enough?”

You nodded, taking a moment to drink in his features. He looked exhausted, his hair was a mess, and a seam from the sheets had even made a faint indent across the side of his face, but he still stared at you intently with those ever-loving eyes that made your heart erratic.

“Do you need anything—water, food, help to the bathroom?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay, Luke, really…but what happened? I don’t really remember getting back here.”

His gloved hand came up to rest against your forearm. “Well, we all fell asleep on the Falcon, but just as we were pulling into the hangar, we noticed you were feverish. We rushed you inside and your temperature was 104. The doctors put you in the bacta tank, but it didn’t do much good. You had a fever for most of the night.” He glanced behind you and you followed his gaze to see a monitor next to your bed reading your vitals and temperature, which was now back down to 97. “Thank the Maker it’s broken,” Luke murmured, squeezing your hand.

You turned back to him, rubbing your thumb against the warm skin of his flesh hand. For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, completely lost. You wiggled your hand out of his to smooth down his hair and he sighed, taking your other hand in both of his. His eyes closed and he leaned into your palm as you let it slide from his hair to the side of his face. “You should go sleep in a bed.”

“No, I’m not leaving you,” he answered quietly. He opened his eyes to look at you and hesitated for a moment before pressing a gentle kiss to your palm.

“Luke, you look exhausted.”

“I’m all right.”

You sighed. “Okay, stubborn, then at least climb in.”

He blinked in surprise. “…Climb in?”

You scooted over slightly and patted the space next to you. “Well, it’s not like there’s a couch or anything and there’s no way I’m letting you sleep in that chair all night.”

“But—”

“Either climb in and get some sleep or I’m gonna press my call button and get the nurse to kick you out.” The threat was empty and you both knew it, but for a moment you feared he really would opt for his own bed. Not that you would blame him. The offer you were making was awkward at best, humiliating at worst. But it had come out of your mouth before you realized what you were saying and since it couldn’t be taken back (at least not without looking like an asshole), you tried to speak with a confidence you definitely didn’t feel. Butterflies twisted in your stomach as the two of you continued to stare at each other.

“Um…” Luke gulped so loud you heard it from where you lay and you felt you were getting a glimpse at the shy and unsure farm boy he’d been before you met. “Only if you’re sure.”

You nodded, watching shyly as he stood and gently sat next to you on the small twin bedframe. The only way the two of you would fit was if you cuddled and you could feel your face heat up at the prospect. You avoided his eyes as he leaned back, opening his arms for you. Before you could lose your nerve, you quickly scooted so that his chest pillowed your head. You could feel the muscle beneath his soft black jacket as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His heart pounded in your ear as he took his black glove in his teeth and pulled it off his hand, stuffing it in his pocket before gently taking the hand you’d rested on his chest, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. You forced yourself to relax and sighed as he leaned his cheek against your hair.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, finally braving a glance up at him. “Are—are you okay with this?”

He nodded, his face barely inches from your own. “I am.” From this close, you could really admire his eyes. Despite their icy color, they’d only ever held warmth when he looked at you. Even from the first moment you’d met, he’d seemed the most trustworthy, purely good person in the galaxy. He was like the epitome of light and love and the closer you became, the more you’d fallen for him. You hadn’t been able to help it. Now in his arms, you were so close to what you’d always wanted from him, but the leap to actually confess still spanned a mile between two jagged cliffs, the jump sporting a jagged opposite shore with a yawning, black chasm threatening to swallow you whole beneath.

You realized you’d been silent for a long time, just staring into his eyes. Before you could open your mouth to apologize, his hand let go of yours to gently caress the back of your head. He pulled you so your head lay on his chest again, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead before replacing his lips with his cheek. He heaved another contented sigh before murmuring, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Luke,” you whispered, the hand stroking your hair a distant echo as you slipped into the land of dreams.

***

You woke in the exact same position you’d fallen asleep in: cradled against Luke’s chest. You glanced at the clock again to see it read seven in the morning. Light from the nearby windows bled through the privacy curtain and you could hear the beginning hustle and bustle of the day on the other side.

“Morning,” a groggy voice said above you.

You craned your head to see Luke’s tired smile and gave him one in return. “Hi,” you answered softly, enjoying the way his hands rubbed up and down your back.

“How do you feel?”

“Good. Just sleepy.”

“Good.” He tilted his head up, his eyes scanning your face for a moment before you could feel his nervousness roll off him in waves—even without the Force. “Y/N…I almost didn’t get to tell you—”

“Oh, sweet Maker!” a voice cried as the curtain was ripped back.

You jumped, turning to see a startled nurse staring at the man in your bed in surprise.

Luke went bright red (you were sure your face wasn’t much better) before quickly scooting off the mattress, muttering a series of apologies as he moved to stand in the corner.

“It’s okay,” the nurse said, moving towards your monitor. “I just didn’t realize you two were together.”

It was a common mistake people had made recently: assuming you two were an item. You were so used to correcting them, the words just spilled from your mouth. “Oh, we’re not…” You trailed off as you felt a palpable shift in Luke’s Force signature. You met his eyes to see his hopeful gaze quickly dashed as you began to deny. Although he mastered it almost immediately, it was only almost. You saw disappointment flash across his features for a brief moment in such easily readable magnitude that it made your stomach plummet.

Luke smiled at you, turning to his beeping comlink before resting a hand on your shoulder. He gave you a gentle squeeze. “I’ll come check on you later.” He leaned closer as if to give you a parting forehead kiss, then seemed to think better of it and quickly slipped out the curtain. You let your head fall against the pillow and bit back the urge to curse.

“Well,” the nurse said next to you, “you really blew that one.”

Hell yes, you did.

***

You let your bag fall onto your usual bunk on the Falcon with a thunk. Some rebel teams needed cover to try and infiltrate an imperial base where some plans were being kept. Apparently, they included information about the plasma cannon that had landed you in the infirmary and you, Luke, Han, Chewie, and Leia had volunteered. Leia and Han seemed to be going a bit stir crazy on base, Chewie went wherever Han went, and you, well…you just wanted an excuse to spend time with Luke. It had been two weeks since you’d been released from sick bay and in that time, the two of you had been kept so busy that you hadn’t had a moment to yourselves, let alone together. Luke was still as sweet and caring as ever when he passed you in the hall, throwing you warm smiles and giving your shoulder and hand passing squeezes. But there had been an unmistakable heaviness to his gaze that made your gut twist. You were the one that had put it there with your big mouth and all you wanted was a few minutes alone with him to explain your mistake.

You turned at the sound of footsteps, your heart skipping a beat as Luke walked through the door to the bunks. He smiled as he made his way to stand next to you. “Is it okay if I take the bunk above you?”

You nodded. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would that make me uncomfortable?”

Luke shrugged and threw his bag up on the mattress. “Just checking.” His tone was even, but the fact that he’d asked in the first place was like a knife in your chest.

“Luke…” You glanced at the door and when a few seconds passed with no one else coming through, you added, “Can we talk?”

Something flashed across Luke’s face—nervousness, maybe?—before he quickly suppressed it and nodded, his hand gently running up and down your upper arm. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

“No—well, I just…” You took a deep breath, unsure where to look. “I’m sorry about sickbay. I’m just so used to correcting people when they assume we’re together that it just slipped out.” You finally met his eyes and could tell he was weighing his next words.

He licked his lips and you couldn’t help but stare. “Do you…want to keep correcting people?”

Your eyes flitted back up to his in surprise. Was he actually…? “Do you?”

He took a step closer so that your chests were practically touching. “No, I don’t.” You could see the nerves dance plainly across his features now. When you made no move to back up, he gently took your hand in his. You let him tangle your fingers together, gently caressing the smooth leather of his glove. “But only if you don’t want to, either. If you do, I promise it won’t change anything and we can forget this conversation ever happened.” Despite the confidence in his tone, his blue eyes plead with you, flecks of sadness ringing their edges.

You wondered for a brief moment if he thought you might refuse and not help him with his Jedi academy. As if that would ever cross your mind. “I don’t want to either,” you finally whispered. The same trance that the two of you had entered in almost this exact spot a few weeks before returned and you were in no hurry to shatter it, letting yourself drink in Luke’s features unabashedly. You swiped your thumb over the bare flesh of Luke’s wrist before licking your lips, eyeing his as they parted slightly. A glance up proved he was doing the same and he took a shuddery breath in as he began to slowly lean his face closer to yours. You tilted your head with bated breath, almost to the other side of the chasm—

“Hey, kid!” Han’s voice floated through the door. His footsteps approached quickly.

You groaned at the interruption. Luke’s shoulders sank and he threw his head back with an exasperated sigh. Fuck it, you thought, determined not to be interrupted again. You shoved against Luke’s chest and pushed him quickly into the adjoining refresher. The look of surprise on his face would’ve been comical if you weren’t so nervous. You used the Force to quickly shut and lock the door behind you before taking a grounding breath in, grabbing the fabric of Luke’s vest and yanking him towards you.

He made a small oomph of surprise as your lips smashed against his. For a moment, he stood frozen and you were afraid you’d pushed your luck too far and could feel yourself slipping into that horrible black pit. Just as you were about to pull away and apologize, Luke’s arms gently snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His soft lips began to move against yours as if they were made to fit together and he sighed against your mouth. His strong hands smoothed up and down your sides, your back, and your neck like he was trying to memorize you by touch alone. Finally, his gloved hand settled in the small of your back while his flesh hand tangled in your hair. You braved his own locks for yourself and gave an experimental tug, your stomach somersaulting at the resulting groan that escaped his lips.

Finally the need for air became too much and you pulled away, panting. You couldn’t help the satisfaction at hearing him struggling to catch his breath as well. You could hear Han calling out for Luke in the background. “Do you need to go—”

Luke pressed his forehead to yours, moving his hand from your hair to rub gently at your cheek. “Han can wait.” He sighed. “Maker, Y/N…that was—”

“I know.” You smiled and felt him do the same against your lips.

He laughed breathlessly before kissing you again. As he pulled away, his thumb gently traced a path under your eye, down the side of your cheek, and around the curve of your jaw. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this.”

You smiled. “How do you think I feel?”

He flashed a toothy grin at you, his warm eyes settling on yours. He hesitated, then so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, murmured, “I love you.”

You couldn’t help the beam that overtook your face. “I love you, too.”

He smiled, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead to yours again. He stole another kiss as Han’s voice floated from the bunks outside. “Hey, kid—oh, you’re still in there. Did you fall in?”

You tried to smother your laugh as you pressed your face into Luke’s shoulder.

“I’ll meet you in the cockpit in a minute!” Luke called, shaking his head in amusement.

You let your hands slide down from around his shoulders to rest against his chest as Han’s footsteps retreated. “You better get out there before we get caught.”

Luke gently brushed some hair away from your eyes. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

You smiled. “No, I guess not anymore.”

Luke smiled, pressing one more kiss to your lips before reluctantly letting you go and turning to leave. He paused with his hand hovering over the button to open the door, then turned back to you and gave you one last searing kiss that left you breathless. He tore himself away and rushed out of the refresher, and you could tell from the Force that it took every ounce of strength to make himself leave.

You laughed breathlessly to yourself, twisting your hands together as you looked around the refresher. You still couldn’t believe you’d just done that, but were glad you did. You finally forced your feet to move back into the bunks, jumping and screeching to a halt when you saw Leia standing at one of the beds.

She did a double take when she saw you. “Wait, didn’t Luke just come out of there?”

You knew the truth was plastered all over your face, but could only muster an, “Umm…”

[assassyart]

Odd question.

Who would you say was more unfairly sidelined?

Angela Cross, Sasha Phyronix or Talwyn?

Hmm. That's an interesting one. Sure, I'll bite!

I guess this may be a bit controversial, but I don't really think Angela was "unfairly sidelined" at all. She had her place in the story in Going Commando, a prominent one at that, and despite me thinking her arc kinda sucks in GC, it doesn't erase the fact that her character was basically done after Going Commando. Her one goal was to stop Fizzwidget Qwark from releasing the crazy Protopet.

It's only now with ACiT and RA that Angela actually serves a purpose beyond Going Commando (and even saying that is a stretch, considering the purpose as of right now is just a mix between "where did she go?", "is she a lombax?", and the fact she is presumably with max apogee). She was never *intentionally* sidelined, in my opinion.

Overall, she was just a fan-favorite side character until they accidentally messed up with the whole "last Lombax" thing, and she didn't really seem all that important to the main characters beyond being a girl Ratchet thinks is pretty and wants to impress lol.

The other two, on the other hand... they both have it pretty bad.

Sasha is never brought up after Deadlocked's intro scene until the comics, post-ACiT. Even in the comics, Ratchet and Sasha's relationship is barely touched on, so we don't really have any idea of why they broke up besides that one site that claimed it was because of political differences. Sasha is treated like she wasn't important to the cast when she clearly WAS important to, at the very least, Ratchet. She isn't that important of a character to the story which is why I wouldn't be all that surprised if we don't see her again, but she was still IMPORTANT to a character and that alone means she deserved more than just an offscreen send-off in the comics.

It's like they specifically took Ratchet to a completely different galaxy so they could avoid past characters and introduce new ones, and OH HEEY WAIT A MINUTE, does this kinda sound familiar...?

Because it happened again. That's essentially the same thing that Rift Apart does. To avoid the elephant in the room (Ratchet's important relationships with other characters that would add to his hesitation with risking it all to go find the Lombaxes, i.e. Azimuth, Vendra, Talwyn, Cronk, Zephyr, Tachyon, etc.) they straight up just ignore having to talk about those characters by putting him in a position where they will never realistically be brought up— a different dimension, with new characters.

Despite Into the Nexus cementing Talwyn as an important character and RA being the sequel to Nexus, Rift Apart chooses to play it as safely as possible by vaguely mentioning her in one very easily missable dialogue that is, while cute, not important whatsoever towards Ratchet's inner conflict.

If this was the first time her character was treated like this, it wouldn't be a big deal... but this isn't the first time. She was (allegedly) axed from A Crack in Time, axed from Full Frontal Assault, had her role minimized in Into the Nexus, and was reduced to a credits cameo in Rift Apart. Anytime she DID have screentime, it was rarely spent developing her or her goals, and instead developing Ratchet's character and motivations.

Things do HAPPEN to Talwyn, but they happen so that she can be more relatable to Ratchet, not because it'll benefit her character.

In conclusion: sasha got the worst of it by being completely ignored until the comics because she was too cool and capable and will probably never show up again. angela isn't that bad because she still gets referenced and the door is still wide open for her to be included in a future game whenever IG decides they've had enough fun messing with going commando fans, but i do understand and sympathize with the pain of waiting over twenty years to see her again. aaaaand talwyn is a big ole mess but she's my mess so i love her no matter how many times they cut her from the games :D

[chaifootsteps]

Okay SO. Though I call it my Lackadaisy NextGen AU as I have no name for it as of yet, it's really a NextGen AU x a "film noir" murder mystery. As I feel like the 10k words of notes I've written down might be a bit too long for your askbox, I'll just give you the Sparknotes version.

Talia (tortoiseshell), eldest daughter of Calvin and Ivy and our main character, is an 18-yo freshman who started off her first year of college bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. No doubt in part because this meant that she would no longer have to babysit her four younger siblings. This very quickly changes when her best friend, a girl working as a prostitute to pay for her classes, is murdered. As the police are predictably no help, a heartbroken and despondent Talia seeks help from the local private eye. The private eye, Quicksilver (pure gray cat), is based off of an old Warrior Cats sona of mine, and since he already has some lead rolling around in his skull (he's more or less okay with it), he doesn't mind getting into dangerous work as well as he gets paid for it. (He also was an old apprentice of Elsa. Still maintains feelings for her that are an odd mix of "looks up to like a mother figure" and "she was a vicious crush of his when he was 19".)

Things don't go so well when the killer catches on that Talia has gone to Quicksilver, and swiftly tries to kill them, nearly shooting the head off of a very unfortunate paperboy instead. Lawrence (what some might call a "cow cat"), also 18 and middle child of Lacy and Horatio, becomes the unfortunate star witness in the killer's latest murder attempt and now has a target on his back as well. With all three of them needing to get to the bottom of the case before one of them loses a life, they're forced to team up and become a motley crew of investigators navigating the seedy underbelly of Missouri, and all of the lies, corruption, and depravity which lay waiting within it.

There are also a few other characters-- Xavier Savoy, street-smart orphan (dad dead to WWII, mother to the flu) who was taken in by Serafine and the Congregation ("Serafine's harem", as he later started calling it) who's always willing to help for a price, and the gossipy diner waitress Lynn who may or may not be related to a certain Drago, but they're not really as into the whole "catch the killer" as the aforementioned three are. Overall, the AU functions as some sort of new-generation sequel; the other characters are mentioned and acknowledged, but the story mainly focuses on the new characters.

One very important plot-point, however-- Talia doesn't know about Lackadaisy. Neither does Quicksilver. Lawrence knows vaguely about Lackadaisy and Freckle/Ivy's involvement, but not the fact that Talia is their kid. So there's always this backdrop of "something happened in my family's past, but I'm not sure what". Talia is a perfect combination of her father's anger and her mother's wit, and though she doesn't know it (and Freckle hates to know it), she has more of her father in her than any of her siblings. When push comes to shove, well, Talia has a very bloody family legacy, and like it or not, violence runs in her veins.

One last thing-- though certain characters are at least mentioned or known to be alive (Lacey still works under Wick, Wick/Mitzi/Zib are a thing though their current professions are unknown, Quicksilver visits Elsa semi-regularly), others are not. Namely, Rocky, Viktor, Mordecai, Asa, and Dominic. It's not necessarily confirmed whether or not these characters are still kicking, but well... sometimes Freckle will watch his kids do something stupid and get this wistful look in his eye, and Ivy will just cling to his arm and say nothing.

Ack, this got long-- sorry for all the wordy-words, thanks for lending me an ear!

Ahhh, this is fantastic! It combines two of the best things, NextGen AUs done really well and Warrior Cat OCs that have been repurposed into Lackadaisy ones. I would kill or die for these kids and any more details of this story you feel inclined to throw my way, I'll happily lap up.

Also, that bit about Freckle watching his kids put a dagger in my heart, mostly because I can't shake the feeling that it's going to someday be canon.

[eddies-disability-swag-blog]

So, I have a lot of friends with dissociative disorders, one actually became aware of their (they as in multiples, neither of them uses they/them iirc) DID quite recently.

And like, I’ve been trying to talk about my experiences with dissociation and depersonalization with them, but no one seems to relate to what happened to me and I just feel so alone.

So, if you find any of the following relatable, I’d love to talk about it. I am very scared of it, but I think it would be nice to meet people who have gone through the same.

CW: Mentions of death and descriptions of dissociation

I feel like I have died multiple times. Well, not me, but someone else died and now I’m in their place.

I think this has happened about 3 times, the last time was around 2015.

When “I” died, I just woke up one day, feeling strange and out of place. Nothing usually felt real. My memories felt like they weren’t mine, I had no connection to my names, my family felt like strangers that knew me. I still recognized everything, but after waking up, I was a completely different person. Eventually the odd feelings would disappear and I’d assume my role as the person leading the body, or at least most of the time that happened. It was a very weird experience, like growing up suddenly in one night, feeling completely altered, but still somewhat like me deep inside.

I don’t think I have multiples, or at least not ones that existed simultaneously, if that even makes sense. The different identities just replaced the past ones, one after the other.

The first one was what I assume was a girl. She loved to wear one of my sister’s purple dresses and role play as Minnie Mouse. She was really jealous of the cute little princess costumes my grandma made for my sister and cousins. She must’ve died when I was like 7.

Number 2 was a weird one. They didn’t think of themselves as human, to them they were just in this body temporarily and soon they’d return to their home to their real family. They’d also communicate with their family using methods I will not describe because I don’t really want to talk about them.

This must be the time where the autism dehumanization kicked in or smth.

No idea how long they lasted for really.

Then there was number 3, probably a girl, like a sequel to number 1. She was really not that remarkable. Since the purple dress and my sister’s other clothes were too small for us then, she explored her gender through club penguin and MLP. She wanted to be a club penguin YouTuber and then a MLP YouTuber and then an everything YouTuber. She died around 2015.

There’s a possibility there might be a secret number 4 since I have a lot of missing gaps from 2016, but eh, the others didn’t cause me amnesia, that might be something different.

And then I was born! I’m by far the oldest, at almost 10 years old. Idk what else to say. I’m not a girl. I’m somewhat a guy, so he/they pls, in that order.

I don’t think I have alters. I don’t think I have DID, I don’t have amnesia and stuff and my personality and sense of self is fairly consistent.

There’s been times I’ve allegedly woken up, done stuff, talked to people, promised to do stuff, go back to sleep and then wake up again, remembering nothing. But I think that’s more a sleep disorder, night terror or sleep walking rather than me having a cohabitant that only wakes up to make me look bad and untrustworthy.

Anyways, remember, if you relate to any of this and wanna talk about it, pls DM me.

[gumjester]

Where do you think Alice is in EAH? What's up with her? What do you think of her? Basically do you have any headcanons about her? ;)

oh alice!!!!!! yes, i have thoughts about her, which i think are quite unconventional, as i have a highly specific (and maybe convoluted) imagining of what exactly she has gotten up to in her life.. i think this is going to take some explaining.

ultimately i have had alice serve as a developed, largely tragic reason 4 alistair to be involved with wonderland the way he is. i remember watching spring unsprung all those Years ago and asking myself: why is alistair the same age as the other wonderlandians? shouldn't he b an entire generation younger than them to fit the story? why is he still there, anyway, now being very obviously not a little child?? and we've seen every other wonderlandian parent, so yes, where on earth IS alice???

so, i started there, and worked backwards!

most of this is clarified (or at least said slightly better) in my work 'alistair's fall', but i didn't think alice would end up remaining in wonderland and i never thought of her living in ever after, mostly because i couldnt think of another reason she would not be seen nor mentioned in the show at all! i always considered her an inhabitant of the 'mortal world' [working title], which is different 2 both ever after and wonderland in that it is.. our world i suppose? but fictionalised. normal human dimension, regardless..

this always made the most sense to me, as the separation of the fantastical and the regular is such a fundamental aspect of the original alice story, and if alice hailed from ever after, a place where dragons wandered around and wolves could speak, i dont think it would end up meaning quite the same thing... theme-wise.

so, she is from common old london, and it is there that she returned after her story! unfortunately things get more depressing from here.

alice is quite a sad character in my headcanons.. she loved wonderland very much as her accidental visit provided a refuge from her exceedingly troubled home life, and actually didn't want to leave at all. when it happened anyway (wonderland's stories work more like patterns in nature. a child comes, a child goes. its just what seems to happen) she refused to let her experience go, maintaining that wonderland was not a dream, like most alices decide, but instead a real place that she could return to one day. her life continued as a series of misfortunes, and she grew obsessive, detatched, and quite ill. most of her worldly thoughts and efforts were directed towards getting back to the rabbit-hole and returning to wonderland where she would be safe and happy again. she was never successful.

in her early twenties she ended up alone, still ill, with a child, who she named alistair. giving him a version of her name felt like ensuring his luck that he, too, would get to go to wonderland someday (and she was right).

to make ends meet, she took several odd jobs for several unsavoury people, and ended up on the bad side of someone who believed in extreme measures. she ran from them, with alistair, to the now-derelict house she grew up in, and when inevitably she was found she knew what she had to do.

alice sent alistair out quickly and secretly from the house, and down to the stream where she knew the rabbit-hole must be (if not for her, then surely for him. wonderland is kind like that; if a child is in need, it will open itself to them). alistair found the rabbit-hole. alice stayed behind and met her consequence.

of course, this is a pretty gratuitously miserable thing to put her through, but i was about 17 when i thought of all this and my taste has remained edgy enough to think it effective!!! to this day i have no idea if she ought to be alive in the mortal world, or dead.. maybe one day, if i write a sequel to alistair's fall, i will actually have to make this decision!.... but not yet

[tangent101]

Homeworld 3

25 years ago, I signed up for the beta test of a fascinating sounding game called Homeworld, which promised 3D space fleet combat between two groups, and with the hint of a fascinating storyline. When it came out, I had to buy a new computer to run it... and then I fell in love with the story and with the peoples described within.

While Homeworld 2 fell short of the mark, it was still a fun game and I was curious as to what would happen in the future. But after the falling out between game designer Relic and the IP rights owner Sierra (who then sold the rights elsewhere), it seemed likely that the game would never see a true sequel.

At least... until Gearbox got a hold of the rights and started a Fig crowdsourcing campaign (one of several they would do). And I jumped in early on, buying two keys - one for myself and one for a dear friend I would later marry.

Sadly my spouse didn't live long enough to play Homeworld 3. But I think they would truly love this game. And honestly, Homeworld 3 is a fascinating examination and continuation of the Homeworld Saga. For me, what was truly important about Homeworld wasn't the combat or matching wits with other players - I've never been big on PvP elements. No. I was here for the story. And what I've seen so far... they have gone down an interesting path here.

(In a way this almost feels like elements of the first and maybe third Mass Effect story, with the protagonist (Imogen S'jet) having visions akin to what Commander Shepard would face in their journey. This is a good thing, as it hints at the greater story within Homeworld rather than just giving pieces of the story like the first two Homeworlds did. In fact, I will admit that if Gearbox were to "reimagine" the first and/or second Homeworld games to use a similar mechanic for character examination and storytelling, I'd likely buy these remade games to see how and what was done in the stories.)

Anyway... Homeworld 3 is fun! They included the ability to scale difficulty so that those of us who are older or not as willing to drive ourselves to distraction trying to prevail against the story can still play and watch the story unfold... and also the ability to slow time, which is especially fun as I enjoy watching the enemies burn! Not to mention listening to radio chatter among pilots as they fight some truly horrific odds at times. So I recommend it. You don't even need to have played the older Homeworld games to know what's going on if you don't want to. :)

[karatekels]

Hi there! It's me again. The kk3 Terry x virgin reader anon.🤭 so I was thinking... what would happen right after all of that, the next day. She obviously would wanna go home and finally talk to Danny. But I doubt Terry is gonna like it lmao. The man's obsessive/possessive behavior has no bounds 😏. I'd love to read what you could come up with! Maybe Terry would try and keep her away most of the time and have her all to himself. She's his girl now after all.

---

Silver Seduction - Part 4

---

Oooh, my first request for a sequel! I’ll do my best for you, anon, but I had to think about where this would go for a long time. Needless to say, I got quite distracted by writing the morning after – it was too much fun! There's going to be at least 1 more part to this, but I couldn't keep myself from posting now! (Original Post starts here | Part 2 of the sequel | Part 3 of the sequel)

---

The late morning sun streamed through the tall windows of Terry’s master bedroom, illuminating you and Terry, still tangled up in the sheets and in one another. Stretching, your toes curling, you nuzzle further into Terry’s chest, a small noise of contentment escaping you. Terry’s strong arms come around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest before he rolls you onto your back, caging you in with his large body, his smile reaching his pale blue eyes. So, last night wasn’t a dream, then?

“Good morning,” you say, a shy smile breaking out across your face. Terry leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss in response.

“Morning, doll.” His voice is a bit husky from sleep, and the sound makes you tingle all over. “Sleep well?” You nod up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to play with his beautiful dark curls.

“Very. Last night was wonderful, Terry,” you sigh blissfully, adoration radiating from your face. Terry reaches down to cup the side of your face, your whole head practically fitting into his warm palm.

“Well, I’m happy to give you as many repeat performances as you’d like,” Terry says cheekily, winking at you as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. You blush at the thought, not sure what to say. All of this was still so new to you, and you felt a little self-conscious as your inexperienced showed.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and you make a playful noise of protest as he slips out of your grip, heading into what you presumed was the ensuite bathroom. Your eyes trail down his body, from his tousled hair down his muscular back to his incredibly toned ass. Trying not to drool, you curl away from the bathroom door, a goofy grin taking over your features as you bury your face into a pillow. All of that was yours!

Giggling to yourself, you think back to last night. Everything had been better than you’d imagined your first time could be. He was so gentle, so sensual, and the things he had done to you with his hands, his lips, his… your body clenches with desire as you remember the feeling of his cock thrusting inside you. Maybe it was silly of you to think, but after last night you felt more like… a woman, now. Did you look any different?

Peeking out from the pillow, your eyes scan the room – you hadn’t exactly been focused on it last night – and spot a floor-length mirror next to the closet. You wrap the bedsheet around your chest to cover yourself; Terry may be comfortable walking around naked, but then Terry looked like Terry. Padding over to the mirror, you give yourself a once-over. You looked a mess, your hair sticking up at odd angles, but your body – you briefly open the bedsheet to inspect yourself – didn’t look any different. Your eyes are a bit brighter, you suppose, and you have a healthy flush to your cheeks – would you ever stop blushing after last night? And then there was the beaming smile you couldn’t keep off your face, but you couldn’t help it! You feel like you’re floating on air.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry tightens his grip on his cock as he feels his orgasm approaching, pumping his fist up and down his shaft quickly. He needed to get this out of his system, knowing that you would need time to adjust to his way of things, and that he had to take things slow, which unfortunately meant he couldn’t rail you the way he’d wanted to upon waking up with you in his arms this morning.

Thinking back to last night, he closes his eyes, recalling what you’d looked like last night; on your back, spread out on his sheets, lost in pleasure that he gave you, begging for his cock, your face a mask of ecstasy. Hissing your name through gritted teeth, Terry comes hard, breath laboured as he does his best to stay quiet.

He quickly cleans himself up before moving over to his tub, which had just finished filling up with hot water and bubbles. Drawing you a bath and… taking care of things without you was far more chivalry than he was used to providing, but Terry was always willing to play the long game if it meant he would be victorious in the end. Slicking his hair back into his signature ponytail, he looks himself over in the mirror, feeling in control once more.

Terry leaves his bathroom, his eyes automatically zeroing in on the bed but finding it empty. Scanning the room, he spots you staring at yourself in the mirror, lost in thought. Leaning against the wall, he watches you intently, smirking when he sees you briefly open the sheet you’d wrapped yourself in and scanning your body, giving your reflection a sheepish grin. How cute, he thinks to himself, so innocent that you couldn’t even look at your own naked form without being embarrassed. He would change that as soon as possible; taking you in front of a mirror, making you watch what he did to you seemed like a good option. He feels his cock start to twitch against his thigh at the thought – clearly his libido needed to be subdued by more than just quickly jerking himself off where you were concerned.

“Modesty, huh?” Terry says, and you whirl around in surprise. He takes in the sight you make: mussed hair, a blush spreading across your face and down your neck, disappearing beneath the bedsheet you had wrapped around your torso. You looked entirely too innocent and unravished, in his opinion, and he needed to rectify that immediately.

Locking eyes with you, he pointedly licks his lips, your soft moan barely reaching him from across the room, but he’d heard it. Nothing got past Terry. Knowing he had your attention, he stalks towards you slowly, nearly purring in satisfaction as he sees your whole body start to tremble before he even gets close to you. He could hardly wait to show you just how good sex could be when your adrenaline was pumping…he loved a chase.

Closing the distance between you, he pounces, pinning you back onto the mattress and pawing at the sheet you had cocooned yourself in, kissing you fiercely. You arch into him and seem to be all-too-willing for a repeat of last night, but he detects a whimper of pain amongst the pleasurable noises you’re making. Resisting the urge to sigh, he slows things down, once again choosing to play the long game, which unfortunately meant not fucking you in your tender state.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. Still sore?” He asks, eyes shining with concern, one large, warm hand resting gently on your abdomen.

“Yeah, a little. Will I always feel like this after we have sex?”

He likes the way you’re already making plans to fuck him in the future; it was nice to know that you were on the same page.

“Nah, not once your body gets used to it. Kind of like karate – you train yourself up and it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’ll be gone before you know it,” he reassures you, noting that you don’t look as relieved as you should.

“Oh no, it’s not that, it’s just…” you bite your lip and your blush returns. “I…I kind of like it.”

Sweet Christ, you were going to be the death of him. How was he supposed to stay in control and be gentle, mindful of your innocence and inexperience when comments like that – especially coming from someone who didn’t even really realize how they came across – had him wanting to bend you over the mattress and pound into you until you passed out? Sure, he wanted to keep you around, slowly moulding you into the perfect sexual deviant and flaunting your adoration of him in Danny Boy’s stupid face, but that could come at a cost to his own sanity after awhile. Terry had never been one to deny himself anything, and having you around, naively offering yourself up for his pleasure would be quite the challenge, even for his degree of self-control.

“You like it, huh?” he teases you, trying to keep things light. “Well, I’ll be more than happy to get you feeling like this whenever you want, babe, but for now I need you feeling better! C’mon, a ran a bath for you,” he holds out his hand, seeing you melt at the thoughtful gesture. Hopefully this was a sign that you were falling for him fast…

“Ohh, that’s so sweet! Thank you, Terry,” you say graciously, taking your hand but keeping the sheet clutched tightly around you with the other. He leads you into the opulent bathroom, and you step towards the bath, but stop awkwardly, looking between him and the tub repeatedly.

“Umm…are you…did you want to…” you stammer, unable to get the question out. Terry resolves to savour these moments of innocence, so that he can think back on them when he’s got you doing something particularly filthy with him in the future.

“-join you?” Terry finishes for you with a grin, and you nod forcefully, blushing furiously. “Thanks for the invitation, doll, but you relax. I’m gonna go find us some breakfast!” Having you anywhere near him while hot, wet, and naked would definitely make him snap. You nod, and he takes his leave, re-entering the bedroom to get dressed before getting the kitchen staff in action.

“Ooohhh…” you moan in pleasure as you sink into the steamy water. Terry clenches his eyes shut, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep, calming breath.

…Seriously, were you some sort of succubus, sent from Hell to torture him for all of his misdeeds? He tilts his head back in exasperation, hitting it against the wall harder than he would have liked. Fighting back a growl, he glares at the bathroom door, half-expecting you to have transformed in his tub into some sort of demon, ready to pull him into the water and seduce him until he drowned. However, upon peeking his head in he sees that you’re the picture of tranquility, your eyes closed and a blissful smile on your face, the bubbles coming up to your collarbone.

He needed to get out of here.

---

Coming up next: Reader wants to go talk to Daniel, and Terry shows his true colours during a fight with you - stay tuned!

[acewizardinspace]

So Sabine is training as a jedi. Lets just say I have mixed feelings.

On one hand, I actually love the idea of a jedi who is not very force sensitive. In contrast to characters like Anakin who were just naturally talented, a jedi character who has to train much harder has a lot of narrative potential. A jedi that is only a little force sensitive sounds really cool! (A little force sensitive, not not-force sensitive. Two different things, one is a cool idea, the other sucks.) This is a story I would absolutely be down for seeing and I think there is a lot of potential here.

I also think giving Ahsoka a student is a fantastic idea. Giving her a padawan would force her to face her past and make peace with the reality of what Anakin did and who he became. It could allow her to finally embrace her lost culture by following one of their most important customs: teaching. It would functionally let the audience know that even after tragedy their culture survived. This could be an amazing story.

So, in theory at least, I should love this idea, right? But I don't.

If this has been another character, I think a new one would work best, I would love this! But it just doesn't make sense for Sabine.

For one, it is a huge retcon and causes rebels to retroactively not make sense. There was no foreshadowing that I can recall about Sabine being force sensitive. This just comes out of no where. (Don't say using the darksaber is foreshadowing. Its not. Other, none force sensitive people have used a lightsaber before.)

I think the explanation they are going for is that Sabine has so little force sensitivity that no one ever noticed before, but that just doesn't make sense. If she had meet a jedi once or twice, sure maybe they didn't notice, but for how long she was with Kanan? This leaves three possibilities.

Kanan really never noticed, which retroactively kind of make him look bad? Like you were with her for how long?

Kanan noticed and didn't tell her, which makes him seem like a jerk tbh. You have no right to keep info like that from someone.

Kanan did notice, and he did tell her, but it was so unimportant that it happened off screen and was never shown to us. I don't think I need to explain why that one is bad writing.

The second reason it doesn't make sense for Sabine is that she already has an established backstory and culture. There is literally so much you can do with Sabine's character already! You don't need to add jedi stuff, or if you did, it could (and should) be showing what she learned from living with jedi. Things like handling your emotions, letting go and living to help others.

Frankly, a lot of people love the mandolarians. It seems odd to me that they wouldn't want to center the plot on that part of her heritage? She would be the perfect opportunity to show off non violent parts of their culture. (I think this is the consequence of forcing Ahsoka's show and the rebels sequel together.)

This writing decision creates plot holes were there were none, and for what? What was gained with this decision. The only thing I can think of is that they wanted two popular characters to interact and this was the best they could come up with?

When it comes down to it, I just really dislike that they keep wanting to retcon stuff. We liked rebels the way it was, please don't retroactively change it!

But, even taking my initial dislike of the concept into consideration, I am still hype for the show tbh! I don't want to be negative, I want to like the show so so bad. I truly like the idea of Ahsoka getting a padawan and barely force sensitive jedi. So, I'm staying hopeful.