#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.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

you shouldn't be (up here alone)

Sequel to you shouldn't be (down here with me)

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Rating: M (for mature, nonsexual content)

Notes: This sequel into my head this morning and wouldn't leave me alone so here you go; not beta read.

Warnings: Jack Abbot's A+ Coping Skills; Jack Abbot's suicidal ideation; yearning; fluff; angst; canon-typical medical chat; bed sharing

Summary: Jack had told you. After he’d eyed the clock, called time of death, roughly ripped the PPE from his body, he’d rushed past you, warned: “I’m going upstairs.” 

Upstairs. 

It was all he’d needed to say to remind you of your deal, the pact forged over a slice of pizza in his kitchen just a few months ago. He hadn’t let you go home alone; you couldn’t leave him to sort himself out now. 

It’s no secret that you’re there. You don’t make an effort to hide your footsteps, to sneak up on him. You hesitate at the railing, eye the back of his head. Where Abbot is constantly making eye contact on the floor, over a table, over a patient, he doesn’t seek it out now. He looks straight ahead, as if he can see everyone that’s walked through The Pitt’s doors and back out again; as if he’s tallying all the ones that were never able to leave. 

You’re certain he’s adding the teen that just passed to the tally—the sixteen year old with a collapsed lung, massive head trauma, and seven broken ribs, hit head-on by a drunk driver as he took his little sister home from soccer practice. 

The girl is sitting in the staff lounge with her parents, or was the last time you checked on her. 

You shift uneasily on your feet. You don’t like how close he is to the edge, how far he is on the other side of the railing. Maybe there's someone better suited to handle this—Shen, or Robby—you have his phone in your number from the scant day shifts you’ve worked, don’t you? 

But Jack had told you. After he’d eyed the clock, called time of death, roughly ripped the PPE from his body, he’d rushed past you, warned: “I’m going upstairs.” 

Upstairs. 

It was all he’d needed to say to remind you of your deal, the pact forged over a slice of pizza in his kitchen just a few months ago. He hadn’t let you go home alone; you couldn’t leave him to sort himself out now. 

You draw in a deep breath, steadying yourself before you duck under the railing, crossing over to the boundless edge. You shift testily at his side, turning your head to try and catch his eye—but even from this here, he’s unwilling to shift his attention to you. 

“I thought it’d be louder up here, you know,” You offer. 

Before you can overthink it, you lean forward, peering over the edge. Your gut swoops at the height, and you suck in a gasp as Jack’s hand grasps the back of your shirt, tugging you closer to him. You swallow thickly, looking forward again as your face boils with panic and nerves. 

“...Long way down.” It’s a stupid thing to say. But it’s odd for him to be so goddamn quiet—you can’t take it. 

“It would suck if you—you know,” You go on, “If it didn’t work. You’d be a pavement pancake. Blinding pain. Probably couldn’t talk.”

“Stop.”

“Sorry. Just—I’m saying it could go wrong.” 

“So could a gunshot.”  

You can’t argue with that; you’ve seen it, had the proof of it on your table, the blood of it on your hands. You clear your throat, trying to dislodge the lump that forms there. You haven’t thought about that night in a long time. At least, you’ve tried not to. Sometimes, in your darker moments, it still seeps through. 

“...You should get back down there,” He urges. 

“You should, too.”

“I don’t know if I can.”  

“You can.” The assertion feels rude; you tack on: “I get it if you don't want to.”

Jack draws in a deep breath, holds it, sighs. You glance over again, take in his closed eyes, the flex of muscle as he clenches his jaw. You inch a step closer, letting your fingers brush against his. 

“We have half an hour left.”

“Fuck knows what’ll happen in that time.”

“Only one way for us to find out.” You hesitate before you gently link your fingers together. “C’mon.” 

For a moment, you don’t think he’ll go. You duck under the railing, lifting and lightly tugging his arm as you go. But you feel Jack’s weight shift, and then he’s following you through and back. You keep your hold steadily on his, like if you don’t, he’ll run off like an errant child. You keep it down the hall, on the elevator. You jab the button for the ED, step back to stand by his side, joined hands clasped and dangling between the two of you. You unthinkingly smooth your thumb along the side of his hand. 

“...Half an hour,” He grumbles. You glance at your watch, correct: “Twenty-eight minutes.” 

- - 

He doesn’t question the way you linger as you wrap up, trailing him to his locker, gathering your things and waiting for him to do the same. The two of you step into the light of a new day, cross into the park, trek through it slowly. When you reach the other side, you stop. You catch his eye, take one step back in the direction of your place. Jack is still quiet, still won't look at you. 

He didn’t give you a choice. Why are you being so precious with him?

You step closer again, reaching out and taking hold of his hand before you turn, beginning to head for home. You wait for the resistance—the tug, the shake off, the detachment. But you only make it a half-pace before he’s falling into step beside you. You know that there’ll be more time to pinpoint the exact strain of relief that courses through you later—as it is, you’re just trying to keep your head in one piece, get the two of you back to yours, showered, ready to decompress. 

–

“I should’ve asked,” You scrub your hand across the back of your neck as Lulu sniffs curiously at Jack’s boots. “You’re not allergic, are you?” 

It takes him a moment. Jack seems entirely perplexed by the small black kitten sniffing at his shoes. He glances up at you, shakes his head as he gingerly sets his bag down, wary of startling Lulu. You nod to yourself, turning away with a mutter of, “Great.” 

You hurry back to your bedroom, rifling through your drawers. You have some old clothing of your ex’s, items that you’ve lagged in getting rid of for far longer than you’ve had any business keeping them. Surely that shirt and that pair of pants should fit Jack. As for the footwear, you don’t think you’ll have any shoes that’ll fit his foot—but you have some non-slip socks that might do the trick for the short-term. 

You get the bundle of clothes and a towel together as quickly as you can before hurrying out of your room. You present them to him without ceremony, and he takes them without any. You point to the bathroom, and he silently goes. 

You can’t help but watch him trail down the hall, listen to him shut the door, hear the shower crank on. You keep waiting for him to change his mind, to tell you that he doesn’t need your help like this, that you’ve overstepped your bounds. Was he on tenterhooks like this when he brought you to his place? Waiting to see if your head would pop after you had your pin pulled? 

You putter around your kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of coffee, feeding Lulu, and absently tidying the living room. You hadn’t been expecting company. The place isn’t an almighty mess, but it isn't neat, either. Jack’s was—the perfect balance of tidy and lived in. You hurriedly straighten the stray books and loose pieces of mail, cramming odd bits and bobs into the storage ottoman that sits beside the couch. 

Your relief is buoyed when he emerges in your ex’s clothes and one of your non-slip socks, when he settles on your couch and puts his head back against the cushion, his eyes sliding closed. You grab a mug, make coffee with way he likes it (you have made a shamefully close study of him in the last few months), and set it on the end table beside him before heading down the hall. 

You shower and dress quickly, bundling his clothes into your machine and setting them to wash. When you emerge, you have to stop for a moment. 

As wildly inappropriate as it is for your boss to be in your apartment, it’s far more inappropriate to want to take a picture of him there, sitting in the middle of your couch with your kitten on his lap. His fingers are scrubbing gently between the ears that she has yet to grow into; even feet away, you can hear her purring like an engine. 

You take soft, careful steps, moving as slowly as you had on the roof. You lower yourself to sit beside them, thighs brushing as you both look down at Lulu. 

“...I didn’t know you had a cat.” 

“It’s new—Really new. Only got her a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. My therapist's idea.” You reach out, gently scratching under her chin as you feel Jack’s gaze slide toward you. “She thought I needed another heartbeat around the house.”

“Mm…You been holdin’ out on me?” 

“Holding out on her,” You admit. “I told her what happened when—you know.”

“Just now?”

“Yeah.” 

"S'been a while."

"I know. Had to come out some time."

You see Jack nod in your periphery. 

“Finally tip-toed into the grippy sock stuff, huh?”

“Something like that.” 

“Good.” 

You lean back in your seat, smiling as Lulu preens and twists in Jack’s lap. 

“She likes you.” 

A hint of a smile curls Jack’s lips, and it warms you far more than it should. 

“Is Lulu short for anything?”

“Lucifer.”

“She seems a little calm to be named after a fallen angel.”

“You say that now. Wait til you see her zoomies.” 

“Mm…Is there coffee?”

You reach out, taking the mug from the side table and holding it out. Jack looks as surprised by it as he was by Lulu, taking it almost hesitantly. 

“I thought this was yours.”

“Nope.” 

“I could’ve grabbed my own.” 

“No, I know, yeah. Just—Figured you might be sore.” 

Jack nods, takes a sip. 

“You mind if I—” 

“No, ‘course not.” 

Another nod before he’s leaning over, Lulu wiggling out of his lap before he can cover her completely. You feign interest in the kitten as she nuzzles your hand, but you clock the wince that Jack makes as he removes the prosthetic, setting it on the empty couch cushion on his other side. He lets out a soft sigh as he massages the area. 

“So,” He pipes up again, “Whose clothes am I wearing?” 

You smile guiltily when he casts you a sidelong glance. 

“Just some guy’s.”

“‘Some guy’?”

“Mhm.”

“Must’ve been quite the guy if he left clothes at your place—unless he evaporated.” 

“Evaporation would’ve been preferable.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” You chuckle. “He uh—Well, it’s not worth getting into, honestly.” You lean forward, picking the remote up off the table, holding it out. Jack waves you off, shaking his head slightly. 

“I picked last time.” 

You hmph softly, leaning back against the couch as you turn the tv on. 

“If you don’t give me a mood or a vibe, we’re gonna wind up watching a nature documentary.” 

“I’m good with that.” 

“Blue Planet it is.” 

-- 

“What was he like?” 

“...Who?” 

It takes you a moment—you’re thick-tongued, teetering on the edge of sleep, tucked into Jack’s side. You don’t know when the two of you mutually decided to cuddle up, but your bed is a bit smaller than his. You’d each have a couple of inches of room if either of you were willing to give them, but it seems like neither of you are interested in space at the moment. 

“The guy.” 

You tip your chin up, peering at him in the dim light of the room. Daylight is just barely bleeding through the curtains on the other side of the bed, casting a golden glow across his profile as he stares up at the ceiling. 

“...He wasn’t very nice,” You admit. 

“You still have his clothes.” 

“It’s more convenience than fondness. I wear those when I'm bloated.” 

Jack laughs softly, the push of it lifting your arm where it’s draped around his middle.  

“I’ll make sure I give them back.”

“You better.” 

“Would you take him back tomorrow if he asked?” Jack’s head tips as he asks it, waiting patiently for your answer. And there’s something almost unsettling about him asking you about another man while you’re in bed together. Seems like bad etiquette. But you contemplate, and shake your head. 

“He could crawl to me on his hands and knees over broken glass and I’d still say no.” 

Jack smiles, his hand smoothing over the crown of your head, a murmur of, “Good,” dropping from his lips, as if it was something that he really worried about—as if he really cared. You smile, dipping your head down and gently headbutting his jaw. 

“Sleep, Jack.” 

--  

The sun is beginning to set by the time you’re pulled from sleep. The feeling of a body curled behind yours is curious for a few moments, but the sight of a familiar freckled arm draped across your middle answers that question quickly enough. You hesitantly turn your head, wary of rousing him, but Jack seems to be out like a light.

It’s another relief in a day that’s been full of them where he’s concerned. You settle your head back down on the pillow, letting your eyes close, and allowing yourself to just feel for a moment—the warmth of him, the rise and fall of his chest against your back, the weight of his arm around your middle. 

And then you realize that moving at all was a mistake, and your body is itching to stand, or roll over, or stretch. But you can’t risk waking Jack up, not now. You don't know how much the man sleeps, but the impression that you’ve gotten is that it isn’t much. 

You bite your lip, weighing your options…And then shift ever so slightly. You stop, waiting for Jack to move, to sigh, to something. And then you shift a little more, then stop…Another shift, and you’re far enough from him to lay on your back without dislodging his arm. You glance toward him, face primed with a wince, an apology, but he seems to have slept through your wriggling. 

But once you’ve looked at him, you just can’t stop. You’re not sure what’s enticing you more—the greying hair, tousled from sleep; the thickening stubble lining his cheeks; the smoothing of the lines that typically crease his forehead as he takes in a patient’s concerns, doles advice out to his residents, his students—to you. 

You raise a hand, heart ticking up in your chest as you gently smooth a knuckle along his rough cheek. You freeze when you hear him draw in a deep breath, push it out through his nose. But he makes no other move, or sound. You stroke his cheek again, heart leaping when his hand suddenly closes around your wrist, stilling you. 

“...Tickles,” He mumbles. 

“Sorry.” 

“Mm.” He lets go, but doesn’t make a move to push your hand away; rather, he tips his cheek up, brushing against your hand like Lulu does when she’s begging to be pet. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask.

“I could eat.” 

“Okay.” 

“It can wait.” 

“You should have something. We both should…Are you on shift tonight?” 

“Nn-nn. Day off.” 

“Hm.”

“Are you—?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” Jack’s eyes blink open sleepily, and you watch him adjust to the dim light of the room, feel the slight grasp and hurried drop of his fingers against your shirt. You swallow thickly. 

“What are you hungry for?” You ask. And the room is so dark, you’re certain you’ve seen it wrong, but Jack’s eyes seem to flit to your lips before he sits up. You try not to feel too disappointed, to remind yourself that he’d have to get up anyway—you both would. 

“Whatever you wanna do’s fine with me,” Jack finally says, the sound partially muffled as he scrubs his hand across his face. You nod, pushing yourself up beside him. 

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use.” 

“Subtle.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” You laugh. 

“That belong to the guy, too?”

“Eugh, no.” You shove the covers off, rounding the bed and peering around the curtain before opening it fully. The sun has nearly dipped entirely into the horizon, scattering the sky with hues of pink, purple. 

“It’s no police scanner,” You turn to face him, leaning back against the window, “But how do you feel about Chinese food and some more Blue Planet?” 

Jack smiles as he swings his legs out of bed, leaning down to refit the prosthetic. 

“Sounds good.” 

“Cool.” You make your way for the door, but stop when Jack catches hold of your hand. You go still, brows raising as he meets and holds your gaze. 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” You shake your head. 

“Coming to get me.” 

You smile softly, taking your hand from his and cupping his cheek. 

“Thank you."

"For?"

"For trusting me to find you.” 

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[marsadler]

INTRO

Hello!

I thought I'd do a bit of a more formal intro as I try to move over to engaging more on Tumblr now that other social media platforms are becoming steadily more unusable.

I'm mars or Kaye, I write lots of weird sensual horror and cross-blended speculative fiction with horror, all with trans and queer characters. I first self-published a short story on itchio in March of 2023 after years of wishing I could leave ghostwriting to publish my own work. (I still haven't fully escaped that occupation, but we're getting there.)

I'm a big, huge fan of publishing on itchio, although I'm also published on Amazon as a necessary evil, boo hiss, tomato tomato, etc.

PUBLISHED WORK

2023

FIRST CREATION: my debut novella, 22k words/98 pages, religious horror featuring an angel and a demon on opposite sides of a never-ending war escaping together, and a whole lot of cannibalism and fruit metaphors. It was a finalist in the 2023 Indie Ink Awards. Transmasc protagonist, M/M pairing.

Blood & Flowers (currently undergoing a re-release process that's adding roughly 11k words and a new cover, so it's not available for sale right now): won the Queer Indie Award of 'Best Sophomore Novel' in 2023, enemies to lovers, vague Romeo and Juliet retelling, vampires and haunted houses. I'm so excited to share the re-release of this early this year! Transmasc protagonist, M/M pairing.

EYETOOTH: another novella (I really love writing novellas), 18k words/90 pages, t4t eroguro medkink fever dream. A trans art student undergoes an experimental surgery at an underground plasma donation center, but afterwards, the doctor disappears and leaves him to deal with the aftereffects and strange cannibalistic urges. Transmas protagonist, nonbinary love interest, M/NB pairing.

2024

Dead Cowpokes Don't Wrangle: Probably the coolest thing I did last year was curate this anthology with a good friend and fellow author, H.S. Wolfe. A queer collection of weird west stories and gorgeous artwork from 18 creators, this is an absolute banger, if I do say so myself. My story in there, Red as Blood, Black as Tar, deals with people coming back from the dead, gunslinging outlaws, and a lot of weird, gross tar. F/NB pairing, ~10k words.

UNHOLY FAVORS: 22k words/90 pages, a short story duet about making deals with supernatural entities that go wrong. Featuring trans protagonists, monsterfucking, weird dreamscapes and hellhounds, this is an odd little itchio-exclusive collection. M/M pairings for both, each story is around 10k words.

The Apples of New Eden: 57k words/251 pages, my first full-length novel. Sci-fi horror, taboo romance. Two brothers struggle to reunite for Christmas in a dystopian war-filled future. Featuring cybernetics, wire play, heavy handed anti-establishment themes, and some really weird dogs. Itchio exclusive, transmasc protagonist and M/M pairing.

WIPs For This Year

Sequels: one of my main goals this year is to actually publish a sequel to one of my three started series. (First Creation, Blood & Flowers, and Eyetooth are all the first books in series.)

Sweet Lamb: novel length, religious horror. I tried to release Sweet Lamb early in 2024 but it just wasn't ready. I'm glad I waited, because I'm a lot clearer now on what I want to do with it. It's a very personal book to me, and I want to make it the best it can be. Polyam trans rep, new age cults, weird fucky angels.

Clipped Wings WIP: novel length, religious horror, anti-establishment themes as well as a toxic age gap pairing. What happens when you take an angel's wings away?

Several Novella and novelette length wips: I won't list them all out because I've started SEVERAL, and I'm not sure which I'll get done first, but I'm hoping to get at least a couple of them out this year.

Other work: I'm very excited to be a part of several other cool collaborative projects I can't talk about yet, but there's several things in the works right now, so keep an eye out!

Alright, that's it for now, thank you for reading this, and I'm so excited to meet new people on this platform and get weird about queer horror with y'all! You can always DM me or ask me any questions, I'm chronically online.

All my books have CWs in their front matter for those looking, and on itchio in the listing. They're also available on my website, which is marsadler.carrd.co

[zepskies]

DEAN WINCHESTER ONE-SHOTS

Stories are Dean Winchester x Reader unless otherwise noted.

(❤️‍🔥 = 18+ only and/or smut)

10 'Til Midnight - (Professor!Dean x Plus-sized Student!Reader) A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.

Taste - (Dean x Vampire!Reader) ❤️‍🔥 It’s a devastating hunger. He finds you, at his own risk.

One More Day ❤️‍🔥 You and Dean take a beat to de-stress with a nice hot shower.

✦ (Part of the Midnight Espresso-Verse)

'Twas the Night... Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.

Restless Nights After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

(Sequel to Maybe More Than Enough)

Maybe More Than Enough You’ve been a friend and ally to the Winchester brothers for years, but you and Dean break new ground while on a stakeout to catch a witch.

Touch Me ❤️‍🔥 - (Dean x Plus-size!Reader) Dean isn’t used to how “touchy” you can be, but he never said he didn’t like it.

Rest Dean is your rock, but you’ve become his place of rest.

Something Real ❤️‍🔥 - (Firefighter!Dean W. x Reader) Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

(Part of the Smoke Eater-verse)

Down to the Crust You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

As You Wish When Dean agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

Sharing Is Caring (II) Navigating a new relationship means learning how to share a bed with Dean.

(3-part series with Sam, Dean, and Castiel.)

Patched Up (I) How Dean thanks you for treating his wounds.

(3-part series with Sam, Dean, and Castiel.)

Make It Right ❤️‍🔥 - (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) He didn’t mean to claim you. Not like this. Not before he’s meant to die.

Midnight Espresso ❤️‍🔥 - (Dean x Plus-Size!Reader) You’ve never taken Dean’s flirting seriously…until he asks you for an impromptu Spanish lesson. 

✦ (Part of the Midnight Espresso-Verse)

The Old-Fashioned Way - (Dean x Soulmate!Reader) You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution?

✦ (Part of the Never Say Goodbye-Verse)

Talk Bacon to Me A rare lazy morning where you feel like pestering Dean a little. He objects to being pestered, but ultimately, you both just want to spend some time together.

Easy Like Sunday Morning In which Sam is thoroughly done with motels, and you and Dean continue to make his life miserable.

Home Cooking Now that you and Dean have a daughter, living at the bunker with Sam means you get to be more domestic, to varying degrees of success. Dean learns to enjoy your attempts at cooking. 

Damned If I Do - (Dean x Lisa B.) Lisa's thoughts as she fights for her life, and for her son, and this time for Dean.

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Supernatural Masterlist

Main Masterlist

✦ Want more Dean?

⋆˙⟡ Get notified when every new story drops! Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. 💜

⋆˙⟡ Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

[sweetmariihs2]

It's so weird to me now when I see Tangled movie fans and they don't know like- who Zhan Tiri is. It's not like it's wrong or like I'm judging them, because the movie is famous as hell!! Everybody likes/knows Rapunzel and has already watched Tangled at least once. But it's silly cuz I see the same merch/posts/etc over and over again made by other Disney fans with references from the 2010s movie. Of course?? Like, obviously, it's very very famous. But like, there is a Tangled 2 and most of the Tangled/Disney Princesses fans have no idea of that.

There is a sequel, a continuation of Rapunzel's story with Eugene in Corona, and she discovers more about the magic surrounding the Sundrop flower, we discover more about information that came before of the movie like a part of Gothel's past, did you know she had a daughter and abandoned her the day she kidnapped Rapunzel? And that later on this same girl became Rapunzel's best friend? Like, this is such a crucial part of the story, Rapunzel has a best friend, adopted by the captain of the guard, yes, that one with the mustache, and she was abandoned by Gothel the day Rapunzel was taken, but couldn't remember that — Her name is Cassandra. Eugene also had a best friend and partner of crime before meeting Rapunzel. WAIT, did you know that he left his bride at the altar?! Yes, before meeting Rapunzel, he has an ex girlfriend! Her name is Stalyan! Did you know that as counterpart of the Sundrop flower, there is a Moonstone? Both of them fell on the Earth at the same time and were destined to meet eachother again. WAIT, DID YOU KNOW THAT EUGENE IS AN ACTUAL PRINCE? Yes, his father was a king! I found this a bit odd too at first, but I got used to it, and now we can oficially call him a Disney Prince. There's ancient magic... have you ever wondered what else there is to know about Rapunzel's hair? Where the flower came from, why, how? In the show they even adress where the lanterns fall, and they fall in an island. There is a beautiful letter that Rapunzel's father, King Frederic, wrote for her in her 7th (?) birthday, wishing she could come back home.

Tangled/Rapunzel/Disney fans are missing so much by not watching this sequel, and Disney is also letting it aside exactly because it's not very popular... there are not many references to this show in the parks, there is almost no merch, and it's not relevant. But it's literally Tangled 2! Tangled 2!!! It's not just another cashgrab trash show based on famous animated movies to get money, it's actually good. It has content, and is very respectful towards the movie and it's canonical information. There is a new main character along with Rapunzel and Eugene and I literally miss her presence in the movie due to how well she adapted as part of the group in the show. We're sleeping on that? By the way, the show has tons of new amazing songs who still fit the Tangled style and are very well sang... and most of the voice actors from the movie are back... but sure, let's sing the same 5 songs again, and make references about the journey of Rapunzel leaving the tower, again... like if nothing has ever happened after that and the story had ended there- right disney?

WE SEE THEIR MARRIAGE PROPOSAL!!!

[hostilemuppet]

finally finished watching ppg16

my take on it is that if it wasnt the powerpuff girls, itd be solidly "whatever". just a generic childrens animated sitcom that happened to have superheroes with the amount of grossout humour you can expect of a childrens cartoon from the mid/late 10s. but the ppg label was forced on it, and it is so not powerpuff girls that it is unenjoyable. i wouldnt be surprised if it was originally going to be its own thing, but they were forced to make it ppg early on in development

i ALSO wouldnt be surprised - in fact i think it is almost definitely the case - that this was supposed to be a sequel series set at least a few years in the future, which is why they no longer go to kindergarten (with an extremely forced reason; pokey oaks got destroyed all the time in the original show!), they have smart phones (no 5 year old has their own smart phone. they just use mummys ipad), the professors hair is going grey, etc. but the creators were forced to make them stay the same age so they could stick to their iconic designs. for marketing/merch purposes. so the creators did the bare minimum so they could claim the girls were still 5, and thats why blossoms love interest is a boy who looks at MINIMUM 12 years old; blossom was also supposed to be 12. this is my conspiracy theory

tldr: cw powerpuff would have been a better adaptation than ppg16 and i am NOT kidding

i also kept a spreadsheet while i was watching. its colour coded

i kept track of how i personally would rate the comedy, story, and the episode overall, any unnecessary facial expressions (the "next big meme faces" as the kids call them), grossout humour, inappropriate moments (it took restraint to not mark every episode jared appears), whether it rehashes something from the 98 era (eg, "man up" is the exact same plot as "makes zen to me", and the opening to "escape from monster island" is extremely similar to the opening of idw comic #9) any bigotry (usually offensive caricatures, eg at least two of princess' kash money krew members are black characters with doughnut lips (doughnut lips are used FREQUENTLY in this show but i only marked it when it was specifically used on black characters), and one of the derbytantes is a transmisogynistic caricature) and finally, any misc comments i had, which got less frequent as i went along and also less coherent. compare my notes from s1:

to my notes from s3:

final stats, on average:

comedy: 2.6/10 story: 2.9/10 overall: 2.7/10

total counts:

unnecessary facial expressions (subjective, but i was using the metric of "it distracted me from the scene"): 242 grossout moments: 49 inappropriate moments: 18 (GENUINELY surprised it wasnt higher) 98 rehashes: 23 and last but not least, bigotry: 28

the best episodes i would say are "bridezilla" and "aliver", both of which were tied for the highest score of 8/10 and id say were genuinely good episodes (although bridezilla doesnt make sense without the previous episode, "monkey love"), 2nd place going to a selection of episodes with the score of 5/10 but despite that id say the only two from 2nd place actually worth watching would be "monkey love" and "strong-armed". MAYBE the power of four episodes if you want to see bliss for yourself but she is VERY underwhelming despite being so overpowered

finally: i have not watched the shorts. and probably will not for a while since the show was solidly "meh". also i know my previous stance of "it was okay i guess" seems odd when i gave it a 2.7/10 but thats probably the same score id give amphibia. so. amanda leighton should try harder ig

[archduchessofnowhere]

heyy, are there any movies or series (or any other media) where archduke karl ludwig (1833-1896) is in? (there are so many sisi adoptations, he must be in one) if yes, what did you think of his personification?

also what do you think about him as a person?

ive read his childhood diaries and he seems adorable and the sweetest towards his mother and his brothers. it seemed to me atleast back then they were super close. but when i look at habsburg media in general his brothers are always mentioned and he isnt at all. obviously he was just an archduke, but he was still their brother!

i cant really find material on him😞

Hello! Everyone seemingly forgets about it but he is literally in Sissi (1955) jgjhkh:

Not only that, there is even a reference to the real-life ring exchange Elisabeth and Karl Ludwig did as children:

(Excuse the odd subtitles I didn't feel like searching for better ones jgjgk).

He appears later on appears at FJ's birthday party, there is an ongoing mini plot that he wants to dance the cotillon with Sissi and it's implied he is in love with her. But well, we know how that ended up.

He does not appear in any of the sequels.

The only other piece of media that I know of which includes him is this French children's book series called Sissi, written by Christine Feret-Fleury:

The series starts with Elisabeth at the age of 12-years-old and ends with her engagement in Ischl. It seems there is a sort of romance plotline with Karl Ludwig, but I don't know for certain as I haven't read them.

You're right with him being generally absent in the rest of popular Sisi media (Elisabeth das Musical, Sisi 2009, Sisi 2021, Die Kaiserin, Corsage, Sisi & Ich - just to name a few), and also just Habsburg media in general. Which is odd considering his son is one of the most famous Habsburgs in history (if only for his assessination). Personally I think he should be in Rudolf media, as the fact that he and his sons were next in the succession line is kind of important for what happened later.

As for him as a person: I really can't tell you much, because I know even less than you about him, as I haven't even read his childhood diary. He is a giant question sign for me - the middle child that is there but no one seems to be paying attention to what he is doing. As far as I know, there isn't any biography about him - and I don't think this will change any time soon. Which is a pity, because I want to know what was he up to!

These are some of the things that I know about Karl Ludwig:

He had a crush on Elisabeth when they were children; they even exchanged letters and presents.

He must have loved his first wife Margarethe of Saxony, as Sophie writes about Karl's "deep pain" over her death and FJ and Elisabeth's concern about him. At least, he was not indifferent to her passing.

This isn't really about Karl Ludwig, but I like these family connections that often get overlooked: his cousin Marie and her husband Francesco II acted as "matchmakers" between him and Maria Annunziata of Bourbon-Two Sicilies, his second wife. This also seems to have been a loving marriage.

Since we are talking about his wives: his third wife, Maria Teresa of Braganza, was seventeen-years-old when he married her. He was 39. I'm not letting this one slide, I'm judging him HARD.

According to Brigitte Hamann, he was very pro-clerical, which made him clash with his nephew Rudolf.

Also according to Hamann, Rudolf had a crush on his uncle's young wife Maria Teresa. Other biographies about the Crown Prince go further and claim that he flirted with Maria Teresa and made Karl Ludwig furious with jealousy. That being said, none of these books give any source to back their statements.

Which leads me to the most serious accusation against Karl Ludwig if true: it was rumored that he treated Maria Teresa awfully. Allegedly he was just very jealous in general, as her youth and beauty made him distrust her (well who the hell ordered him to marry a teenager young enough to be his daughter). As to what exactly consisted his alleged bad treatment of Maria Teresa I don't know, as the rumors are vague. For instance, the princess of gossip of the 20th century, Catherine Radziwill, said in one of her books that "He tormented, bullied, and generally made her [Maria Teresa's] life miserable for something like a quarter of a century". Needless to say, this and other books of the sort are not trustable sources at all; I'm only citing it as an exemple of what was being said about his relationship with his wife. I'm yet to find a primary source to back up these rumors, although historians like Brigitte Hamann do believed that the marriage was very unhappy. I hope solely for Maria Teresa's good that these rumors are false, or at least exaggerated.

Off the top of my head that's all I can think of; my only strong opinions about him are regarding his relationship with Maria Teresa, which in case you couldn't tell, I don't like at all. But I can't say more about someone I really don't know about.

Thank you for your questions, I hope that I could help you!

[no1ryomafan]

The announcement yesterday gave me so much brainrot so here are some SRWY predictions/theories that will see how it ages once the full roster is announced ✨

-More of a assumption but due to production I get the vibe shows from last year don’t have a shot getting into the base roster depending on dev time, any newly added shows are def any in 2021-2022, maybe a couple squeezed in from 2023 but not as likely as the other two as I assume development for this started late 2022-early 2023. That being said, I feel like it will be a crime if Bravern isn’t here given it’s still big japan even now with how many ads it’s in, plus it came out early 2024 that adding it in as dlc still seems possible. A shame it’s not in the base roster but it’ll definitely give the dlc a reason to sell.

-Other stuff like Grendizer U I would like to see in SRW (despite still not watching it) but being in July means it’s probably a bit too late for even dlc so we maaaay need to wait for the next srw. That being said I’m curious what they’ll use to rep mazinger as I personally can’t see Infinity coming back a third time- maybe will get Mazinkaiser or shin? (Pipe dream is SKL but that’s SADLY not happening)

-Interestingly Gwitch is only labeled as season 1 which does lineup to the theory of 2023 shows are probably being excluded as well though my friends who seen Gwitch saids season 2 has more stuff going on- it’s still odd if season 1&2 were considered two series entries or if season 2 was made as dlc-that would be a bit much-but maybe this is POSSIBLY hinting at this next SRW will be a continuous trilogy of games rather the a new universe each time ala the Z games? So s2 will be adapted on the next “Y” game. (Though saying Y2 gonna sound pretty weird lol) Overall I’d take this over gwitch season 2 being dlc or not included at all or weirdly being considered it’s own series even if it does make it to base roster I just don’t know how likely this’ll be

-in terms of “‘new stuff that’s for sure not making it” Gqux (I’m shortening all the Us sorry) would be cool to see but it’s still not fully out and it’ll probably be out ONCE this game is close to release, so sadly it probably doesn’t have a shot of being even dlc but there’s at least next game! The new Rayearth show also definitely up there in “better luck next time” as we still don’t have anymore news on that, but the girls were in T and 30 back to back so I think they can sit out for awhile

-Gridman has not been confirmed to be one of the returning units from 30 YET but I think it be criminal not to bring it back if only for the fact they could use the sequel Dyanzenon as a paired unit with it- though I haven’t seen either but I do hope Dyanzenon is used at all cause logically it makes the most sense after Gridman got into SRW at all

-It’s too early to know if they’re being back arma AGAIN but I think arc should be standalone and we can go another game without the big 3 needing to be a thing as getter wasn’t even in X, interestingly we haven’t seen mazinger or OG gundam rep in this trailer but they probably will be here as they’re more of stables then getter sadly. I think it be more interesting if a new big 3 was formed out of other protags especially if arc and gwitch decide to go with a theme of the new generation passing the torch though I think T already did something similar? I have a lot of general wants for how arc is going to be in this game but the main hope is that for this game ryoma can stay out for once (if they make him a enemy unit as emperor I’ll be GIGGLING but I understand completely if they don’t even touch the end of arc)

-Finally to end off with my delusional hopes ✨ if shin jeeg or big o return at all I’ll be excited. I know it’s not happening, please don’t make fun of me I know even jeeg being dd doesn’t mean shit, but I’m putting these here anyways as they’re my pipe dream roster hopes.

That is all I can think of for now but feel free to add your own in reblogs or comments.

[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 ?

[sorayad]

Two Truths and The Antagonist were such wonderful, life-giving bright spots in the hardest year and I’m wondering if there might be any upcoming serial fiction on the horizon?

i’m so happy the stories were bright spots for you!!!! they felt that way for me too!!!! <3

writing update under the cut

okay the main thing i’ve been working on is a horror-adjacent story and i KNOW no one will want it but i had to write something totally out of my comfort zone to stretch some new genre muscles and just be totally garbage at it so i can eventually get better. i don’t know if it'll even be worth sharing anywhere but the characters have taken over my mind so!! fun!!! we love challenges!!!

with that said!!! i’m still always always always playing around in my happy place of sports romances!!! the way i typically work is that i have ten trillion WIPs and i just pick at all of them for months until one of them achieves critical mass and becomes The Story. none of them have done that yet so i have no timelines for you but atp i think the contenders are, in order from most to least goofy in tone and lowkey least to most likely to happen:

extremely bro friends with benefits-turned-colleagues (this one is a lot of fun but it may happen as a ‘two truths’ kind of thing where i write it as a pick-me-up next time something goes wrong in my life)

friendzoned husbands (i LOVE the protagonist but trying to make an established relationship sustain a romance novel would be writing on hard mode with very bad odds of success)

nicky (i hate sequels and nicky is way too close to adam to be a convenient spinoff character, this exists IN SPITE of me and solely because i love him and his future wife and their story)

disgraced villain and tragic beloved golden boy meet (again???) in the minors (i’ve known these characters and this story for YEARS, it’s a ‘when’ not an ‘if’ but last time i worked on it i had a thought that would change the entire thing so. still experimenting.)

[cellarspider]

30/30 One last thing.

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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 in the first scene and thought “that 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, because noble blood had divine qualities.

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.” Fans have already tackled that–there’s a fake script circulating that has a decent interpretation of this. In their version, 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.

No matter the details, this whole premise 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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[tiger-moran]

Look I'm trying not to get my hopes up about Moriarty or Moran in Sherlock & Co given, uh, well, what happened with several other characters I normally love in it (also given how various other adaptations have portrayed them too), or even how they portrayed certain characters I hate normally (like Amberley, and Gruner. The latter especially... in general I despise Gruner and find him way, way more chilling than Moriarty but in this he just felt silly and campy and totally non threatening to me).

But I don't like it when people try to make out Moriarty is behind practically every single crime ever because that's just nonsensical anyway and also Moriarty being that indifferent to what kind of crimes he's connected to doesn't fit him.

However I also don't like it when Moriarty just seems to come out of nowhere and you never get to see his hand in anything else and I do feel like several versions could have subtly woven in far more details about his 'web' but never really did (the Granada series did try but even that was only one case before The Final Problem and I feel like... they still could have done more with him, and with Moran for that matter. Also even the RDJ Holmes films, yes the first one did tie to Moriarty too and they did do way more with Moriarty than most versions ever do, including showing his 'other life' as a maths professor, but even though I love AGoS I still kind of feel like they 'peaked too soon' bringing Moriarty in as the main villain in the sequel, especially when they seemed to always intend to make a third film). And yes there's been one very clear reference to Moriarty before Wisteria Lodge in this where he straight up said he was "listening intently to every word" (which could well mean a lot more than he's just listening to the podcasts) which I think was a positive sign so I do at least hope that in this they are really going to fall between those two things (the 'completely overplaying Moriarty's influence and blaming every crime on him' and 'totally underusing him until he pops up as Holmes's Ultimate Nemesis'), that past elements throughout the series even those that didn't necessarily seem to mean very much at the time like the apparent passing reference to James at the university (which was not recorded in the transcripts) in The Three Students and the audio recording doing odd things and stuff are actually going to relate to him (or them. I mean, remember Ian the sniper? Complete coincidence? Red herring? Or...? Although I still don't think, just supposing that was meant to be Moran, that I could ever take him seriously being called Ian).

I do so want something that just gets Moriarty and his 'web' and his presence there in the background for a long time and the whole thing with him hiding in plain sight right, and without erasing Moran, without reducing Moran's importance to Moriarty, without making Moriarty essentially infatuated with Holmes.

Also please give me Moriarty and Moran as a queer couple I am begging you

[physalian]

On keeping a short story short

Today is release day on all other ebook platforms for my new novella! Woo!

And since Tell Me How Long is a novella, I thought I’d talk about the process, and how it wasn’t always meant to be so short. This is not for drabbles or ficlets and one-shots, but somewhere between 15-30k words.

—

I do not write short stories outside of fanfic, and I only write short fanfics (5-30k words) because I don’t have the attention span to stick with writing someone else’s characters anymore. Odds are, if I don’t hammer out the entire 30k word fanfic in one/two sittings, I’m never going to finish writing it.

And fanfic is where my new novella came from, or at least the fanfic mindset. I had writer’s block so I pulled some characters from an existing WIP of mine and tossed them into a new setting for fun to still keep writing.

This is also how my debut novel started but that blew up from “I’ll try to keep this at an 80k word one-off” to “wait hold on I can make this a trilogy” to “wait wait to tell this story properly it needs to be a quadrilogy”.

Short original fiction really isn’t my thing.

My new novella only remained a novella because I hit the 30k word plateau, got bored, and put it away for a long time, a couple years. But the thing is, every so often I’d go back and I’d reread my favorite scene from it and think “damn I wrote this? It was so good!”

And after all the work and hype of getting my first novel out after a 7-month sprint start to finish, I’d immediately rushed in to the sequel, figured out that my book 2 plot has to shift entirely to book 3, and my “deleted scenes” is one again far longer than the narrative I have working.

So. I went back to my little unfinished fanfic. And thought, ‘let me spread this around and just see if these first few parts is compelling enough to continue.’

And the feedback I got back was that the part I had already edited was good enough to stand on its own, with some reworking of the ending.

All my hazy plans of giving the characters full arcs and time to develop and drama, angst, possibly even romance, got axed.

What I ended up with in the final draft is 22k words, with eight core characters, 3 of which do not speak. There was no time to give anyone except the MC an in-depth arc, no time for side-plots, no time for anything except what was immediately happening along the primary storyline.

…and I really like it? It’s not overcomplicated with layers of narrative, but it is packed with thematic depth, stand-out character beats, as much personality as I could cram into 8 characters, only one of which is present for all six chapters.

It is a very lean story, but it’s exactly what it sets out to be.

The thing is that short fanfics have the advantage of not needing setup and establishment of characters and relationships, when it’s already in the canon. Short stories can’t be that complex in plot when time has to be spent making the reader invested in the characters, first.

Short stories can be 20k words of fluff… but I recently read one that was exactly ~35k words of fluff and I kept waiting for it to get more interesting or complex or tell me something substantial about the world and characters and it just didn’t. It absolutely read like a cliche fanfic of the author’s pre-existing characters from a much better and bigger story, not something worth buying separately with real money.

So here's some things to consider, while recognizing that the diversity possible within a short story’s premise is virtually limitless. These are just things that I was thinking about when revising what I thought was going to be ⅓ of a whole book into its own thing.

Nearly every single scene is focused on something new. It’s a very small setting for 4/6ths of the story—one research boat—but characters never retread old points of conversation. The ongoing ethics debate keeps evolving, and even when the placement of characters is stagnant, what they’re doing is always changing, so the story keeps progressing very quickly.

Having 3 non-speaking characters meant I could justify having the audience know very little about them. Since they were limited to rudimentary Sign and drawings, every single one of their lines had to be important information. Zero room for fluff and wasted effort when it takes them so much effort to communicate.

There may only be an A Plot that every character is working toward, but it is still multifaceted. A plot being: We need to save this sick mer.

In the background, there’s the ethical dilemma participated in by all speaking characters. There’s the MC’s frustrations over the world’s apathy toward saving the oceans. There’s getting to know the other mer characters. There’s teaching the other mer Sign and written word. There’s the threat of discovery, the actual medical efforts and tension over whether they’ll succeed, and some questions that characters have had unanswered for years. Not a single paragraph is wasted and every single scene relates to the main theme in some way.

In many ways, it’s written with the same mindset that I’d approach a massive 100k word novel, but missing any consideration for the world beyond the immediate conflict. I don’t even have a villain, only time, nihilism, and insufficient medicine.

So if you’re like me, and you can’t help but make long epics and keep coming up with new subplots, new conflicts… try your hand at something that forces you to be efficient, doing as much as possible with as little words as possible, and you might surprise yourself.

—

If you’re not friendly with Amazon, here is every other ebook platform I’m able to list it on at this time. Including: Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Everand, Thalia, Smashwords, Angus & Robertson, Vivlio, Palace, and Fable.

[great-master-airplane]

[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?”

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

For the Director's Cut, I'm going to ask about the Akhkharu Trilogy because those were the first fics of yours I read. But if you would rather talk about ⭐anything else⭐, please do - I'm fascinated by all your works!

Hiiii, sorry this took me so long to get to, but you get a novel in return! And thank you so much! I am definitely willing to talk about the Akhkharu trilogy!

Akhkharu Trilogy (Akhkharu, Sanguine Vampiris, Regina) Was spurred by my determination to join Whumptober for the first time back in 2023! The whole thing was inspired by the prompt "Feed me poison, fill me 'til I drown" which gave me the image of Helen being forced to drink blood until she was choking on it. For the second story, for Whumptober 2024, I used "Body Horror" but twisted it to Helen being horrified with her body's changes and "let the bedsheet soak up my tears".

I don't really remember my thought process on the creation of the original story beyond the prompt giving me an image (I burned myself out that October because I was doing some of Whumptober, and all of Fictober and Flufftober). But I do enjoy making characters suffer, even though I've been a little shy in sharing that in my fanfictions. Or at least was at the time, anyway.

Akhkharu was fairly difficult for me, because when I was writing it, I felt the emotions were so flat for what I was trying to portray. I wanted very badly to do a fic where Helen was struggling and was completely outside of her comfort zone and control with what was happening to her. I love writing characters in situations where they're powerless and bad things have happened and they have to overcome it, they have to survive. For Helen in particular, it was writing a scenario where death is no longer an option for her. She is essentially immortal in terms of aging, but she can still be killed or kill herself, which is knowledge that she'd clung to. With Afina forcing her to become a vampire, that control over her existence, the comfort that she doesn't have to go on but chooses to, is taken away. She has to go on because there's no other choice. Nikola refuses to use the devamper on her because he doesn't know what it will do to her, being transformed so completely. All of her options over her lifespan are gone. She doesn't trust herself to be a full blooded vampire, especially after seeing Afina. Nikola forcing her to drink blood when she's resisting, when she doesn't want to, is another violation to her. She was turned against her will by Afina, fed on by a handful of vampires that Afina awakened, both extreme violations to her body and mind and the blood, to her, was a violation she could deny. Nikola's promise to kill her if need be, if she becomes a monster, is what allows her to admit to herself that she's fighting something she can't control and accept the blood, accept the help. Akhkharu is really meant to be a Helen story, even though Nikola is there, which is why there are sequels, especially with the line of a part of Helen embracing her new darkness.

Sanguine Vampiris was a toughie. It was meant to be an aftermath, the struggle after the initial trauma. Meant to be Nikola helping Helen when she was alone before. Helen is afraid of herself, which is at odds with her trusting Nikola. If she can't trust herself, she can't trust him, which he does use against her to get to accept and trust herself. She's afraid and still feels out of control and Nikola is there to help her. It's a gentle opening to them and friendship, mostly. Two people who deeply care about each other, because I didn't want it to seem like Nikola was taking advantage of Helen in her vulnerable state. It's shippy, yes, but it was meant to be a gateway to it, a peek at the gentle side, not the hip itself. Just two people who are there for each other, who are now vampires together, one reborn and happy with it, one forced into it and struggling. I wanted a lot of tenderness in that one, to contrast with the first one. The poor dears both needed it and I couldn't justify skipping the immediate aftermath when I could show that. Nikola helps Helen profoundly, by accepting her and showing her that she doesn't have to change just because she's a vampire. I love the tenderness and vulnerability between them in that story and was quite pleased with it.

Regina was.....an exercise in my attempt to write dom/sub for the first time. And in a nonsexual way. I feel it's the weakest entry in the trilogy, because I was struggling at the time, especially in/with the Sanctuary fandom, and I thought the story would help things go back to normal. I love the idea of nonsexual/platonic dom/sub. It's fascinating to me and I thought it could be a good way for Helen to start becoming comfortable with being a vampire and a way to indulge in the darkness she felt since her transformation, the part of her that wants to be a vampire queen like Nikola suggested. Nikola, for his part in this story, was more than willing to do anything for Helen, especially something like this. It was also a chance for Teslen banter! Which was really fun. It was fun to write Helen doing the roleplay to appease her "other half" and Nikola getting a kick out of it and enjoying it. Helen's awkwardness because it's not sexual was also fun to play with. She doesn't know what to do when it's just playing pretend and Nikola is having fun getting her to relax and enjoy it and explore safely. I also wanted to show them doing this a as good-intentioned, but not really planned out thing. Just banter and giggles and realizing they didn't think things out the best way. Some fluff and relaxation and getting comfortable with the new thing in their lives and just being together. It was fun to write, in the end, and I loved getting Teslen in there properly for the first time, with the willingness between both of them, and Nikola reaffirming to Helen that he's there for her and will do what she needs because he loves her. It's Helen healing and Nikola helping her with that and healing with her along the way.

I had two songs for this series.

"Achilles Come Down", which was the backbone of the first two, they wouldn't have existed without that song. The music, the tone, the lyrics, are all very important to Akhkharu and Sanguine Vampiris.

"Mary on a Cross" was also important to the last two, with Teslen. It autoplayed on me and it just worked with vibes.

"Your beauty never ever scared me"

That bit was just perfect for them.

The titles.....not my best. Akhkharu I adore, Sanguine Vampiris was desperation, Regina was...obvious, I think.

[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.