#bad showrunning?

[thestarrynightslover]

I'm gonna be very honest here: I haven't been enjoying Chicago PD all that much anymore 😭

And it genuinely makes me sad. It used to be my favorite show out of all three and now it just seems like they lost their footing, their pace.

I also felt like that with Chicago Med for a while too, during the earlier seasons, I think it was just after Connor left. But it was on a much lesser degree, cause it wasn't as bad as PD is now and I was less attached to it than I am now and than I am to PD.

Ofc, Jay leaving left me in pieces (and now Hailey's leaving too 😭) but the show was already going downward on his last season, his absence was just the final kick, I guess. This is all really, really sad to the franchise, as a whole, and to me, as a fan. I mean, this show especifically got me out of a really dark place during the pandemics, and got me started on writing ff, which has also helped me a lot.

And, I guess, now I just feel a little lost at life and really wish that the show would be there to help me through it again... I don't think I'm gonna drop PD or any of the others, though but it's been really frustrating me lately and I needed to get it off my chest ☹️

Anyways, thanks for reading this far. Let me know your thoughts on this!

[officialspec]

hey. can anyone who knows the law slash industry standards tell me what the protocol is for posting abotu a potential show pitch (POTENTIAL) while its in development (as in not being pitched yet) (not for a long time) bc i haeve no goddamn idea

[chussyracing]

thank you @presdestigatto for tagging me 😚

tagging @balaclavacharles @never-looked-so-good @ferrariprince16 @dobbiamo-capire @charlescherie @caffeinatedlovergirl @debushit and anyone who would like to do this - you are legally obliged to say i was the one to force you to do it

[nymph1e]

I was not expecting the bridgerton-inspired episode to be the best of the season thus far

[ewatsonia]

this season of dw wasn't my absolute favorite but i got to see 15 be really sad about susan multiple times so i'm pretty content tbh.

[h-i-raeth]

Adore seeing Some Bullshit & knowing exactly who to go to to complain about it cathartically

[cryptidjeepers]

I think its really funny when moffat stans get really snarky about chibnalls run being basic and a vapid. Like youre really the pot calling the kettle. Are you serious

[itsanidiom]

I just had an idea of what that new Snow White movie should have done to subvert things instead of whatever it's doing...they should have gender swapped all the characters and that's it. The plot could all stay exactly the same except gender swap. You could even still racebend a bit if you wanted, but the plot wouldn't need to change. It also makes more sense for a King to get rid of his son than a Queen to get rid of her daughter.

Evil Queen - Evil King Fair Princess - Fair Prince Huntsman - Huntress (fuck yeah) 7 Dwarves - That's now seven roles for women right there See! We have now swapped the women to men role ratio from 1:4 to 4:1! That's actually a good change.

Like 10/10 would watch gender swapped Snow White.

[generallyjl]

you know what, I think River Song's plot with the whole "Melody Pond child murder lady sincerely, the Silence" stuff really only works if you either do not think about it at all or if you think about it entirely too much. luckily, I'm capable of doing both!

[akajustmerry]

I would also really encourage people to read up about Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner and how they treated Eccleston while shooting season 1 of Doctor Who in 2004/5. A good place to start is Eccleston's memoir where he writes in detail about how insensitive RTD and BBC producers were to his health struggles, and the rights of the crew which Eccleston helped fight for that got him blacklisted by the BBC. There are also plenty of interviews where Eccleston talks about how hard he had to fight Russell on using his natural accent. RTD was also showrunning Doctor Who and Torchwood the whole time John Barrowman was sexually harassing cast and crew. When I say I don't like RTD Who it's not just a subjective thing of not liking his ideas, there's very tangible reasons to do with how he's treated people in the past. I hope he's changed, learned lessons, etc. But the BBC have made a huge effort to bury this stuff because it's bad publicity for them, and people really need to remember he's not the perfect showrunner the PR hype wants you to believe. Don't fall for nostalgia.

[thenightling]

For those keeping score here are all the TV shows based on the work of Neil Gaiman from the last ten years. Lucifer - Loosely based on the version of Lucifer who quits ruling Hell and opens a piano bar, from The Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman. Originally aired on Fox and then moved to Netflix for seasons 4 through 6. Neil Gaiman also got to play God in a bonus episode for season 3. The full series can be watched on Netflix. And is available on DVD. The plot deals with Lucifer, the ruler of Hell, up and quitting and moving to Earth where he opens a night club called Lux and takes up playing piano. In the TV series he befriends (and eventually falls in love with) a woman homicide detective named Chloe Decker.

_______________________ American Gods - Based on the novel by Neil Gaiman. Aired on Starz. The plot deals with a man called Shadow Moon who gets dragged into the strange world of Old and New Gods vying for power.

________________ Anansi Boys - Originally written by Neil Gaiman as a spin-off of American Gods, the TV series version was filmed for Amazon Prime and is currently in post-production (Not yet released.) The plot deals with the sons of Anansi, the African trickster Spider-God.

__________________ Good Omens - Showrun by Neil Gaiman and based on the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Also Neil Gaiman has a small cameo in the first season. Available now on Amazon Prime. Seasons 1 and 2 are complete. Season 3 has not yet started filming and will very likely be the final season. Season 1 is currently available on DVD. The plot deals with two "differently competent" entities, an Angel and a Demon, who have come to love life on Earth and each other. And now must work together to prevent the apocalypse.

______________________________ The Sandman - First episode was co-written by Neil Gaiman, based on the stories and original characters created by Neil Gaiman with a few borrowed DC comics characters. Currently on Netflix. Season 2 is in production now. Neil Gaiman also voiced a ghostly bird in the bonus episode segment Dream of a Thousand Cats. Season 1 will be available on DVD and Blu Ray at the end of this month. The plot deals with Morpheus, the King of Dreams, who accidentally gets summoned and captured by occultists who had been trying to capture The Grim Reaper. After over a hundred and six years in captivity Morpheus finally escapes and has to track down his tools which had been taken from him when he was captured. He also comes to realize he had made many terrible mistakes in the past and struggles to set those wrongs right.

_________________________________________ The Dead Boy Detectives - First official spin-off of The Sandman. The Dead Boy Detectives were originally planned as an HBO Max series (now just Max) but moved to Netflix after the success of the first season of The Sandman. Based on characters who first appeared in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman: Season of Mists, Neil Gaiman is involved in the production. The plot is a pair of ghost teenagers decide to become detectives and are really bad at it. These two characters made a previous appearance in Doom Patrol on Max (Formerly HBO Max) but had been played by different actors.

[f14fun]

dc it-girl (mv1) - chapter 1

synopsis: in which case y/n, an it-girl that hails from the united state's capital, washington dc, meets max verstappen in an unexpected occurence at the redbull showrun in her home city. both not knowing each other, immediately find themselves in a once-in-a-lifetime love story.

general info: !fem!poc!black-reader x mv1 faceclaim: asia monet ray + other girls from pinterest/insta!

smau + prose (3.3K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

things to note: yes, in this story i am changing the characters for a bit, i know that david coulthard was driving, but in this case we can pretend that that was max. also, he will be in dc for a publicity event for a week. please let me know if there is anything else you need me to clarify. happy reading! 💙📖💭

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yourusername

liked by florence.jwilliams, user1 and 119,012 others

yourusername: bad gyals thrive in dc

view comments:

florence.jwilliams: babes we looked so hot today xx

yourusername: i knowww, but i was dying like a bitch in the heat 🙄🙄

florence.jwilliams: might visit somewhere cold this summer j to get away from the sun tbh 😭

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Florence was always looking for shit.

She was always looking for shit for us to do, places to go, food to eat, but sometimes, it was a lot.

Like today. Although it was only the nineteenth of April, the sun was blaring down on the little city of D.C. (namely, the District of Columbia, for all of you non-natives) like an absolute bitch. And I, immune to alcohol poisoning, foot fungus, and slightly-immune to bad breath, was not absolutely not immune to the wrathful rays of the sun.

Zilch. Nada.

So when I originally left the house in a cardigan, I immediately went back in to change into a tank top and jorts. It was hot. I was hot. And Florence wanted to spend the whole day walking around the city doing God knows what.

That's how we ended up stumbling across a parade.

Every know and then when I would visit D.C., I would sometimes almost accidentally show up right in time for an event. Sometimes I happened to love the event, other times, I sometimes left, queasy, dizzy, and claustrophobic.

I wasn't sure what to make out of today's event.

At first, when looking from an outsider's perspective, it seemed as if I had walked into one large, large, cult meeting. Oh no.

Every one was adorned in shapes of navy, cheering, screaming, and worse of them all, holding a goddamn can of RedBull's Energy drink.

The air was thick with the scent of anticipation and caffeine, a cocktail potent enough to keep even the most exhausted of souls awake for days.

Banners fluttered wildly in the hands of fervent fans, each emblazoned with logos and slogans that screamed allegiance.

Vendors weaved through the throng, hawking more cans of the ubiquitous energy drink, their cries barely audible over the din.

Occasionally, a shower of confetti would rain down, sticking to the sweat-drenched skin of the masses, creating a mosaic of glittering chaos. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the raw energy of thousands of voices united in a singular, frenzied purpose.

Ew.

RedBull being one of my least favorite sodas (can you even call something you vehemently dislike a favorite at this point?) already made me additionally pissy.

So when Florence and I had just arrived at D.C. and walked towards Pennsylvania Avenue, it was too late for us to realize that the event was actually ending, and the crowd was dispersing.

Even as a girl who hails from the city, I do get quite nervous and claustrophobic around too many people. So to my utter horror, people from the flood of the RedBull cult were heading straight towards us, scattering like a pack of fleas.

Too late.

I had lost my tight grip (I swear I was holding on to her hand super duper tightly!) on Florence's hand, and we ended up getting separated from each other. Calling her name would be no use in this throng of people.

My heart pounded in my chest as I desperately scanned the sea of navy shapes, each person indistinguishable from the next in the dimming light.

Panic set in, and I could feel the beginnings of a cold sweat on the back of my neck. I tried to push my way through the crowd, but it felt like swimming against a relentless tide. People brushed past me, some nearly knocking me over in their haste to leave.

The overwhelming noise of their chatter, laughter, and the occasional burp of a RedBull can opening filled the air, making it impossible to concentrate.

It was gross. It was disgusting. I was disgusted.

I spun around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Florence’s distinctive red scarf, but all I saw were faceless masses. My phone! I fumbled in my pocket, my fingers trembling as I tried to pull it out without dropping it. Just as I managed to get a hold of it, someone bumped into me, and the phone slipped from my grasp, landing with a sickening thud on the pavement.

“Dammit!” I muttered under my breath, crouching down to retrieve it, praying it wasn’t shattered. As I picked it up, I glanced around again, my heart sinking. Florence was nowhere to be seen.

In this crowd of sickeningly electric people over an energy drink, I was dead. Six feet under. Tired, and I had just gotten to D.C..

I looked around in despair, realizing that I must have walked a few blocks without even noticing, my mind too frazzled by the chaos and my separation from Florence.

My phone was clutched tightly in my hand, my lifeline in this moment of utter confusion. I tried to call Florence, but there was no signal. "Damn this shitty data!" I cursed under my breath, feeling my frustration bubble over. The crowd seemed to close in around me, their excited chatter and laughter a stark contrast to my growing panic.

My fingers tapped frantically at the screen, hoping that maybe, just maybe, a bar of signal would appear and rescue me from this nightmare. I could feel the beginnings of a headache forming, the kind that starts as a dull throb and quickly escalates into a pounding, relentless pain.

The one goddamn day I had left the house without my morning coffee and this shit decided to happen to me...

In a desperate attempt, I switched my phone to airplane mode and back again, praying for a miracle. But nothing changed. The crowd jostled me from all sides, pushing and pulling like a relentless tide, each shove adding to my rising sense of helplessness.

I glanced around, trying to find a familiar landmark or a quieter spot to regroup, but all I saw were waves of navy shapes and faces blurred by motion and anxiety.

"Florence!" I shouted again, my voice barely carrying above the din. The energy drink-fueled chaos was suffocating, a cacophony of noise and movement that seemed designed to disorient and overwhelm. I caught sight of a bench a few feet away and made a beeline for it, hoping to gain some semblance of stability.

I was in a twisted, sick, alternative fever dream where my nightmare fuel was in fact RedBull™, ha ha ha.

Whatever, I could probably find her somewhere around the city, I mean, it wasn't that big...right?

So there I was, in D.C., by myself. Not like I wanted to go in the first place that morning, but whatever.

Lost in thought, I was just wandering around, not really concentrating on anything in particular. Horrible city instincts, might I add. Because of my absentmindedness, I clearly did not notice when I walked into someone.

More like someone's RedBull drink walked into me.

I could not escape the nightmare fuel fever dream RedBull™ agenda, couldn't I.

Now I was extremely pissed off. The icy liquid soaked through my shirt, a cold shock that made me gasp and snap back to reality.

Looking up, I was two milliseconds away from berating whoever spilled this devil-drink all over me. But my harsh words died on the tip of my tongue the very instant that I looked up.

I was looking at a man. But not just any regular man. An extremely handsome man.

His startling icy turquoise eyes connected with mine. His stubble, a little overgrown, looked so hot. His mousy, brown touseled hair gave him a nonchalant yet strangely put-together look, and I was all in for it. And I, a girl who never stops talking, I was rendered speechless.

From the first glance, everything about him seemed perfect.

Except for the fact that he just spilled RedBull all over my white tank top and he was even wearing RedBull merch, from head to toe. Like who does that? What fashion choices...

He gave me a sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice smooth and sincere. "I didn't see you there." His soft, European (?) accent lulled me to silence in an instance.

I wanted to be mad, I really did, but his charm was disarming. "It's fine," I managed to say, trying to suppress the butterflies in my stomach. "Accidents happen."

"Let me help you," he offered, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a pack of Kleenex tissues. He reached out towards me, seemingly wanting to put his hands on my shirt.

"Oh, oh, that's okay," I said, freaking out internally. If this handsome European man touched me that close to my boobs I might just have to propose to him that very instant.

"No, no, no, I insist," he said, his accent getting thicker, clearly not understanding my drift. He was too handsome to be doing this shit, I swear.

He came closer towards me, and I instinctively backed up a bit more. Not catching my drift (once again), he took a larger stride towards me. I, unprepared for this wild encounter, didn't step backwards in time, so the sexy European man in all of his glory, collided into me.

And down we went.

It must've been a funny sight to see from the average passerby. Them just minding their business. Maybe walking their dog. Or perhaps getting a morning lattee.

Bam.

Lying in the middle of the street are two people. Just there.

I would've hit my head on the pavement and probably cracked my scull wide open if not for the RedBull man. He had cradled one arm around my head, the other wrapped tightly around my waist. I think (?) he was helping me to try to stop the fall.

To no avail, we still fell.

What he disregarded, though, was when he tried to stop the fall, was the reason why we were falling in the first place. As grabbed my head as we fell, he also let go of the RedBull can. So now, free in the wind and open towards the chaos of the District of Columbia, the RedBull can fell.

Fell where? You may ask. It fell over us. It fell everywhere. The sticky, icky drink splattered across both of our faces, its cold, sugary droplets clinging to our skin like a caffeinated rain shower. The can, released from his grasp, seemed to defy gravity for a split second, twisting in the air before gravity's inevitable pull sent it crashing down.

The can hit the ground with a soft thud, its contents erupting in a fizzy explosion of energy. The liquid sprayed outward in all directions, catching us both off guard.

Streams of RedBull arced through the air, some landing on nearby pedestrians who stared in disbelief, while others formed tiny puddles on the sidewalk, reflecting the cloudy yet impeccably humid D.C. sky above.

For a moment, him and I laid on top of each other (weird and freaky, I know), frozen in a tableau of absurdity, our faces now adorned with streaks of sticky red liquid.

A passerby, caught in the crossfire, chuckled as they hurried past, muttering something about needing to wash their dog now. It was a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy, and despite my initial shock and embarrassment, I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

And you may think, oh wow, that is horrible. That must hurt. Your joints, your back, your legs. And to that I say, yes, yes, and very much absolutely yes.

The very sexy (slightly less sexy, now that we were mangled on the disgusting sidewalk) European man was laying on me with all his bodyweight, and it very much hurt.

To make matters worse, our faces collided. You ask, where did your faces specifically collide?

Our lips. Our lips collided, and they touched.

And me like the dumbass I am, when I see a face coming towards mine unexpectedly, eyes closed, and especially a face who's male.... I puckered up.

Yes, I was stupid.

Now, I was on the floor, sticky, and kissing a stranger.

Out of context, that sounds like a funny and strange sentence. But this whole scenario in the first place was out of context, so bear with me. I mean, how often do you end up on the ground, covered in energy drink, and accidentally kissing a stranger in the middle of the day?

It was like something out of a quirky rom-com (okay, more like the evil-twisted beginning to one of those abduction horror stories grown-ups tell you when you are a kid), except I never imagined I'd be the protagonist.

But in that split second, with the taste of RedBull lingering on our lips and the chaos of the city swirling around us, there was an inexplicable spark. It wasn't just the caffeine rush; it was a moment of shared laughter and unexpected connection amidst the sticky mess.

In this moment, I was either going to die because he was about to kidnap me, or sheerly die out of embarrassment. Or, I would will myself to die, this was not happening to me.

He pulled back, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he asked, his accent making his words sound even more sincere.

I tried to laugh it off, but the awkwardness of the situation was hard to shake. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… sticky." I wiped at my face, feeling the sugary residue cling to my skin.

He helped me to my feet, brushing off his clothes with an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to… I mean, that was not… you know," he stammered, clearly flustered.

"It's okay," I reassured him, despite feeling mortified myself. "Really, it's fine. Just a little... unexpected."

He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. He winced, as he realized that his fingers as well as his hair smelled like RedBull. "Well, this is definitely not how I imagined meeting someone today."

"Me neither," I admitted, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and amusement. "But hey, at least it's a memorable encounter."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess this is one way to make an impression. I'm Max, by the way. Professional RedBull spiller and accidental kisser."

I laughed, the tension easing. "Nice to meet you, Max. I'm Y/N. Apparently, I'm your victim for today."

"Victim? More like an unsuspecting hero," he replied with a playful grin. "Seriously, though, I'm really sorry about all this. Can I at least buy you a coffee to make up for it?"

"Well, considering you saved me from cracking my skull open, I think I can let you off the hook," I said, trying to sound casual while still feeling a bit flustered. "And coffee sounds good."

"Great! I know a place just around the corner. And I promise, no more RedBull," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. (Yeah, the biggest lie I was ever told. Do not trust sexy men, they are all liars)

As we walked towards the café, the awkwardness of our first meeting began to fade into a shared sense of humor about the absurdity of the situation. Max continued to apologize, making light-hearted comments about his job with RedBull and his less-than-perfect coordination skills.

"You know," Max started with a grin, "I guess I should add 'professional accidental kisser' to my resume now."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Not sure how many job openings there are for that, but you'd definitely stand out."

"Well, it's all about making a memorable first impression, right?" Max replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Definitely memorable," I agreed, taking a playful jab. "Though next time, maybe aim for something less sticky?"

Max feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "But where's the fun in that? Besides, it's not every day you get to meet someone while wearing your finest RedBull cologne."

"I have to admit," I said with a smirk, "you wear it well."

Max chuckled, nudging me playfully. "Hey, it's an acquired scent. You'll get used to it."

"And here I thought coffee was supposed to be the only thing brewing today," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Who says we can't have a double shot of excitement?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at his playful flirtation, feeling myself relax even more in his company. "Well, as long as it doesn't involve any more airborne beverages, I'm all in."

Max raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended. "Are you saying you didn't enjoy our little RedBull shower?"

"Let's just say I prefer my caffeine in a cup," I replied with a grin, sipping my coffee and meeting his gaze over the rim. "So, Max, what other talents do you have besides professional beverage mishaps?"

He leaned back, pretending to ponder the question seriously. "Well, I can juggle three balls at once. And I'm pretty good at making people laugh, unintentionally, most of the time."

"I can see that," I said, laughing softly. "You've definitely brightened up my day, unintentionally." Continuing, I said, "I was lost in that throng, no, no, no, cult of people wearing RedBull on Penn Ave. It was absolutely horrible, never again."

He guffawed loudly, so loudly, at my slightly funny joke, I for a second, thought that there was an underlying joke in my statement that I had not caught (spoiler alert, there was).

Max guffawed loudly, his laughter infectious. "Oh, I'm sorry," he managed between chuckles, "but you have to admit, it makes for a great story."

"You find this funny?" I asked, feigning offense while trying not to laugh myself. "I was traumatized by energy drink enthusiasts!"

"Hey, at least you made it out alive," Max quipped, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "And here you are, sharing your harrowing tale with a fellow survivor."

"Survivor?" I raised an eyebrow, pretending to assess him critically. "Or secret admirer of RedBull?"

Max shrugged, his smile mischievous. "Maybe a bit of both. It's an acquired taste, you know."

"You are just saying that as a cult member, I can't really trust what you say still. I am so sorry, but you could not pay me to drink that can of dog piss," I jokingly rolled my eyes.

Max burst into laughter, his amusement filling the air around us. "Dog piss? That's a new one! Trust me, I'm not here to convert you," he said, grinning widely. "But if you ever change your mind, I'll be here with a fresh can and an open mind."

"Hmmm... okay," I reluctantly said. (Yeah, fat chance you would get me to drink RedBull willingly)

"That only made him laugh louder. "So I've heard," Max replied with a grin, clearly taking my comment in good humor.

I chuckled, feeling a sense of relief that he wasn't offended by my playful jab. "I mean, it takes confidence to rock the RedBull look from head to toe," I added, trying to soften my teasing with a smile.

"Exactly!" Max exclaimed, his laughter subsiding into a grin. "You've got to commit to the brand, right?"

"Absolutely," I agreed, nodding. "I have to hand it to you, though. Not many people can pull off such a bold fashion statement."

"Well, thank you," Max said, his tone light and playful. "I guess you could say I'm all about making a statement."

"I can see that," I replied, unable to resist teasing him a bit more. "I suppose next time we meet, I should wear something equally attention-grabbing to match your style."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "Please do. It'll make for an even more interesting encounter."

Everytime he spoke, he made direct eye contact with me. It was so sexy and seductive, and I don't even think that Max knew what he was doing was hella attractive.

I, not immune to anything today I guess, fell hard for a stranger that I had just met.

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yourusername posted on her story

📍washington dc 🎵 see you again (ft. kali uchis) - tyler the creator

view replies

florence.jwilliams: girl we got separated and first thing you do is be big backed??? be so fr... where are u

yourusername: on a date! 😁

florence.jwilliams: oh!-

florence.jwilliams: don't be selfish and bring me back a iced coffee w almond milk and a croissant pls.

yourusername: croissant 👌🏾, beverage 👎🏾, i've had enuf of beverages and spilling today. 😭

florence.jwilliams: oop, tea

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author's note: a little short but sweet! ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 part two will be out sometime within the next two weeks, comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[thedreadvampy]

It's damning with faint praise to say that this season is Moffat's best because I think out of 11 episodes there were 7 I enjoyed and 4 I would say were genuinely good (Smile, Oxygen, and the Cybermen 2-parter)

but despite how much several of them had me cursing the TV, there were at least elements of every episode I genuinely really had fun with and wanted to keep watching. we watched this season in 3 sittings. I think it took me a full 18 months to get through one of the Matt Smith seasons because they were such fucking slogs.

Peter Capaldi is a lot of fun but I genuinely think most of the credit goes to Pearl Mackie because having an actually likeable and engaging companion really changes the game. The first two Capaldi seasons had their moments and definitely moved away from the godawful Cinematic Epic thing Smith's run devolved into and leant more into having fun with it, but it was still a slog and it was a slog because Jenna Coleman, Alex Kingston and Maisie Williams all just made me fucking crave death every minute they were on screen, the amount I could not care less practically caused me to collapse in on myself. But Bill and Nardole are really fun, they've got personality and chemistry and screen presence that makes up for the fact that the episode plots are still kind of incoherent.

The political and philosophical underpinnings of Moffat's work continue to be both really There and really really really shitty. but this is the most fun I remember having had with Doctor Who since Eleventh Hour, back when I still had hope that the Moffat era would bang.

I just don't know why, after finishing it Really Well, Moffat reaffirmed his commitment to ending on a damp squib by literally adding a whole episode just to jack off in.

so me and Sam FINALLY watched the last season of Capaldi's Who

and tell me how, after literally over a decade and for perhaps the first time in his fucking career, Steven Moffat wrote a not just tolerable but really actually good two-parter and fully stuck the landing. like the editing and pacing were still a bit off but the storyline was original, fun, interesting and emotionally invested, and most importantly, rather than ending on a damp fart or the most furious autofellatio in history, the final part didn't fumble it and ended in a way that felt emotionally satisfying and like it made sense for the characters. like the last time he successfully wrapped up a multiparter in a way that didn't feel cheap and hollowly disappointing to me was literally The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, and a) that was in 2005 and b) tbh The Doctor Dances is about a tenth as compelling and memorable as The Empty Child.

so after 12 years of either hackery or great ideas that fall apart in the second act, Steven Moffat writes what I would genuinely consider to be a memorable Good Doctor Who serial. it ends with bittersweet pathos, a solid closer for all the main characters, and sends Moffat's showrunning career out on a genuine high despite failing ratings and budget cuts (and the fact Doctor Who hasn't been consistently good since about 2009). good job Steve. with grudging respect I admit you pulled it out of the bag on this one.

wait what's this there's one more episode left? and it stars Mark Gatiss? and you literally spend the whole episode inexplicably just shitting all over the legacy of Doctor Who by inventing a version of the First Doctor that bears literally no resemblance to the character that William Hartnell actually played, just so you can spend the whole episode saying misogynistic things to run yourself off to how much more Totally Feminist your version was than the version you made up in your head of what Doctor Who was like in the 60s? and it added literally nothing to the season except to take all the wind out of the sails of the actually good finale you already wrote?

even when he writes a good episode this fucker still finds ways to disappoint me.

[dandelionjack]

doctor who is about music . well it’s been running for sixty years so it can’t really be about anything, there is no constant now but change, so if it’s about anything then it’s about change, time and memory. which makes it about music. i sound crazy but what i really mean is if i was more eloquent then i could um. i could articulate this. the doctor’s primary tool works its magic by manipulating sound, like a conductor’s baton? i have made a post about the theme of music in doctor who before and i’m going to reblog it above so i don’t need to reiterate myself. anyway

point is, russell could prove to be a sheer showrunning genius if he succeeds at his attempt to finally bring this theme to the forefront through inventing a music-themed campy villain to act as one of new-new-who series 1’s big bads. the way that this string of ideas began back in the 60th specials, with the TARDIS mysteriously playing wild blue yonder followed by the toymaker plagiarising the master’s trademark act by throwing a song and dance number of his own… i am so so excited for what the future holds now that the doctor dances, seeminly unencumbered by guilt this time. hang in there ruby . ruby’s a musician of all things too, on the keys like missy once was. much to think about. the giggle’s an arpeggio

this song is figuratively about the doctor

and controversially this one is too! i am a sucker for doctor who space jesus allegories because i (personally) view jesus as a mythical literary protagonist first and foremost rather than a religious figure. he’s just some guy to me. a kind wanderer who works miracles sometimes. you don’t know my buddy jesus h. christ like i do

[bidisasterevankinard]

People, who were celebrating Buck is not in the trailer and mocking Oliver for POSSIBLE Buck centric 100th episode, you do understand he is not the writer and showruner? He is not the one deciding what they will give him to play and when. And you just ... not real fans. If Oliver ever will decide to leave the show before it ends , please remember it's because of you who constantly makes him feel bad. The ones who tried to give 6x11 bad reviews because it's not about buddie, the one who constantly make him feel like shit

Hope all of you will have constant hate while you do the thing you love, but having almost no control of deciding what exactly you will do next, but people still would hate you for doing it

[queenvhagar]

Ok so clearly the writers read Fire and Blood and thought, "What if it was all propaganda 🤯 and Rhaenyra was actually a good queen 🤩 but the victors aka her killers Team Green 🤢and the maesters who wrote the history 🤓 were lying to make her look worse 😡 this interpretation makes me clever and good at showrunning 😤💯"

But what they should have been thinking was, "What's the most compelling story here for an ASOIAF show/Game of Thrones prequel? That 1) half the book is lies, Rhaenyra was faultless and did nothing wrong ever, her side was entirely good while the other was entirely bad, and how it played out is that the women were peaceful observers and the violent men were the reason the war happened and everyone died or 2) both sides were equally flawed and divided for what they saw as valid political and personal reasons and the resulting assortment of enmity, hatred, and realistic character flaws and motivations on both sides lead to war that destroyed the entire family and countless others?"

It really seems like they wanted to go with their own personal "conspiracy against Rhaenyra" interpretation that they thought they were so clever for thinking of at the cost of an actually compelling and realistic story that could have feasibly taken place in the world of Westeros.