#i say this as a screenwriting major

[disaster-by-chance]

Sometimes I think I'm an idiot but then I remember that someone thought Matt Damon was the perfect casting for Odysseus.

Matt Damon.

Odysseus. King of Ithaca. Wider in his shoulders and chest Odysseus. Like a thick-haired ram Odysseus.

Matt. Damon.

[insomniac-jay]

One day there will be an all women show where the male characters are only mentioned by name, never shown on screen or only appear in flashbacks to develop the female character's lore and if I have to make it by God I will

[dyketennant]

they should let you opt out of peer feedback in class if your peers all have bad opinions and no reading comprehension

[mxltifxnd0m]

going to be real sad when i go back to college later this month bc ik i won't be able to post as frequently as i have been this past two months

ill probs be active complaining about school lmao but not posting any writings

[redwhale]

I maintain that you should critique the issue, not the role, and certainly not the person. Unless you were 'in the room where it happened', as it were, then you truly don't know the circumstances of who/what/why the element you either like or dislike came about.

I know there are some rare exceptions where someone has said 'this was my absolutely my idea and choice', but again, they are the exceptions, not the rule.

“Wait, there are people blaming the writers?”

Are you surprised? Fandoms have become notorious anti-writer spaces. Studios love you guys. They can cut the budgets, cut the number of writers, cut the wages of the writers, and you guys always blame the writers. “The writers ruined the show!” It’s never “the studios ruined the show.”

I hate to break it to you: more than half the shows you complain were “ruined by the writers”, were ruined by the studios. Studios cut the scenes and arcs you were excited for. Studios cut the budget of the show, or even raise the budget of the show and force a “bigger, louder, bolder” tone on shows that were unexpected hits (this is where we get “the Netflix look” on every show post-Stranger Things and Queen’s Gambit).

You guys do not do your research. Half your fanfics are tagged with bad faith digs at the writers, when a few searches would reveal how strapped that show was and how poorly the writers were treated. Writers are being given a single week to write each episode—I’m not kidding, one-week-per-episode is one of the reasons for the strike. How are good arcs and scenes supposed to happen under that time limit, with a max of only four writers?

Tumblr, the self-proclaimed “pro-union, pro-worker, pro-artist” site is also a major fandom site. You guys rarely practice good faith consumer etiquette for television and film writers, because your fandom salt always turns you against writers. And studios love you for it.

Yeah, individual writers do create bad writing from time to time. But so do painters, chefs, and musicians. Directors and actors sometimes refuse to film certain scenes or follow a show’s projected style and arc, and the writers always get the crap for a bad performance or a poorly directed episode. This isn’t to blame actors or directors; it’s to point out that you guys have one villain, and it’s always the writers. You guys never give writers the same grace you give animators, designers, directors, actors, composers, and editors.

Studios love you every time you say “the writers ruined the show.” Every single popular fandom is guilty of this. View any of the “why did the writers cut this scene, they hate my characters” talk when leaked scenes hit the internet. Writers barely get paid for what they do write. You think they’re writing scenes and then happily throwing them in the shredder? You guys just eat the talk that studios put out. Always have.

[thedaddycomplex]

How did you begin your success journey as a writer? I feel as though there are so many paths and the pressure to find the right path is so overwhelming.

Oh, "success journey" sounds so nice, much better than "a series of major calamities and general dip-shittery" that actually got me here.

First, let me say you are absolutely right that there are many paths. And please don't feel pressure to find the "right" one. There's no correct or perfect path, only the one that gets you there. And it'll likely be a total surprise once you arrive to learn that you were on a path at all. I sure a shit was.

OK, I'll give you my whole story, not just the beginning. Because I feel like it was a bunch of beginnings in a row. So hold tight, I can get long-winded about this stuff...

I began my professional post-college career as a journalist, where I honed my writing voice. Honing your voice is a huge component for any writer, I believe. But, you can do that just by writing and writing more, any way and anywhere you can—blog, diary, bathroom stalls, wherever. But, journalism and I didn't get along and soon found I had angered any newspaper editor that might hire me.

I did some odd gigs here and there (communications manager, copywriter, reality TV writer), but nothing I could call a career. Not long after our twins were born, I started this very Tumblr account and started chronicling my repeated cartoonish failures as a stay-at-home father.

I found a supportive community here—another big component for any writer—and I started to get attention outside of Tumblr. A fellow parenting Tumblr liked my writing and put me in touch with her friend, who is an awesome agent. So, then I had an agent, but nothing to sell. I felt stupid. I had a tool and no materials to build anything.

About a year later, at what felt like my lowest point ever, I wrote a snarky shit-post lampooning all of the various parenting crazes and techniques. It went viral (strangely, pretty much everywhere but Tumblr). A book deal soon followed.

That first book became a bestseller. And my relationship with that publisher grew into more book deals. And I parlayed my new career as an author into an even newer career as a screenwriter.

It all was... no. It all is so fucking weird.

None of it would have happened if I hadn't honed my writing voice at a job that wouldn't last long. None of that would have happened if I could've afforded to join a more "professional" blogging platform (Tumblr is free and I was poor). And I never would have landed an agent if I hadn't met the wonderful parenting community here. And I wouldn't have written a post that changed my life if I didn't vent some ol' fashioned pettiness and anger with my writing.

So, yeah, maybe it is a success journey. To me it's just a series of major calamities and general dip-shittery.

But, it's the path that got me here. And I'm fine with that.

So, don't worry, @dulxetwrites. You'll find your own path. Just keep writing, keep making and taking opportunities. It'll seem random, chaotic, sometimes tragic, always weird.

That's all OK. Because all journeys would be boring without a little calamity.

[skzdust]

Cinderella in Mary Janes

This fic was written for the @mirohs-aurora-society secret Santa event! My secret Santa was @dinossaurz ! You requested fluff so I really hope you like this! It contains just a bit of angst/drama but it has a very happy ending :)

This is also the first fic I’ve made a playlist for so I hope you like that too!! It contains a healthy mix of emo music and romantic pop!

Side note: as I am an emo music enjoyer I included three references to emo bands/brands in this fic! If you’re familiar with the genre see if you can find them ;)

Enjoy!!

Summary: when emo Wooyoung sits next to you in class, it leads to an unexpected romance. But rumors fly, as they often do… (featuring a few skz boys as friends!)

Pairing: emo! Wooyoung x cutesy! Reader

Includes: college au, emo music/clothing references, cutesy reader, a little Cinderella reference bc that’s my fav movie, watching movies together, Chan, Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix as reader’s besties, rumors and reactions, coffee and study dates

Word count: 3.8k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone , @caught-in-the-afterglow , @palindrome969 , @skzstan12345 , @katsukis1wife , @tsunderelino, @hyunjinsjeans , @somethingkindazainy , @silverstarburst , @atzlordz , @breadpuddingboys

Networks: @mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!

Masterlist

——-

You held back a sigh as you walked into the lecture hall. You did not want to take this biology class, but the requirement had to be fulfilled, especially since you were in your last year of school.

“I don’t get why a film major has to take a science class.” You grumbled to yourself, setting your white frilly bag on the desk in front of you and sitting down.

“I know.”

You jumped as you looked over your shoulder. A boy with long, dark hair was setting his messenger bag down beside you. He was dressed in a black T-shirt with the Your Organic Hatred band logo on it and light-wash jeans, and his jacket was covered in patches and pins. “Oh my God, you scared me.”

He smiled. “I have that effect on people sometimes.”

“I— you just startled me, that’s all.” You sat down, wondering why he’d chosen to sit next to you in the nearly empty lecture hall. You were dressed as opposite to him as you probably could’ve been: a blush-colored top with a white cardigan and a frilly pink miniskirt.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He sat down, too. “I just wanted to say I love your outfit.”

“Oh… thank you.” You looked down, turning the same color as your top. “I am not looking forward to this class.”

“Me neither.” He said as he pulled out his laptop. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation with yourself, but I’m a film major, too.”

You giggled. “That was a very private conversation, you had no right to listen.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, miss…” He trailed off, waiting for your name.

“Y/n.” You said, a little shyly.

“Miss y/n. I will be more considerate of your privacy going forward.”

“I appreciate that, Mister…” You raised your eyebrows.

“Wooyoung.” He grinned, and you noticed an eyebrow piercing. You swallowed. It was hot.

“Mister Wooyoung.” You tried to regain your composure. “So, you’re a film major, too? What’s your concentration?”

“Visual effects. How about you?”

“Screenwriting. I’m taking an editing class this semester though.”

Wooyoung perked up. “Which one?”

“Color correction.”

“440? With Dr. Dewey?”

“Yes!”

“We’re in it together, then.” Wooyoung smiled. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah!” You smiled back. “I hear Dewey can be tough, but he’s ultimately a good professor.”

“Yeah, I had him for editing techniques last semester.” Wooyoung nodded. “He definitely pushes you, but I learned a lot.”

“Well, now I know who to go to when I need help.” You leaned down to your bag to get your notebook out.

“I’d be more than willing to help.” Wooyoung said, and you were glad your face was away from him, because you were furiously blushing again.

You continued to talk with him about classes and professors and the film program until the Biology 110 professor walked in and started the class. Even then, you couldn’t get your mind off Wooyoung, doodling little flowers in the margins as the professor went on about course expectations. You were a good student, you’d read the syllabus already. You only paid attention when she mentioned a homework assignment due in a couple days. You groaned, homework during the first week of classes wasn’t unusual by any means but it was still annoying.

When the fifty minutes were up and the class was over, you packed up your things and stood up. “It was so nice to meet you, Wooyoung… could I get your number?”

Wooyoung’s grin was wide. “I’d love that.”

You handed him your phone with an empty contact open. He filled in his information and handed it back to you. He’d included his birthday, November 26.

You laughed. “Why’d you put your birthday in?”

He shrugged. “I always give people my birthday. I like getting happy birthday texts.”

That’s so cute, you thought, but you said, “Maybe I should start doing that, too.”

“You should. It says a lot about a person, who they send happy birthday texts to.” He nodded sagely.

“I’m sure it does.” You laughed.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow for color correction.” He grinned. “I’ll find you.”

“Sounds good.” You said, going red again.

He laughed and walked out. You finished zipping up your bag and left, off to your next class.

—

That evening, you were at your best friend’s apartment with a few of your other friends. Minho was cooking dinner, and the rest of you were crowded into the small living room.

“So, first day of classes.” Hyunjin said. “How’d it go?”

“Oh my God, I met the cutest guy.” You gushed. “In my biology class, of all places. He’s also a film major, maybe you know him… Wooyoung?”

“Wooyoung?” Felix’s eyes widened. “I just know he’s in a band that plays at Ross’s sometimes, he’s the drummer.”

“I’ve heard he’s a bit of a playboy.” Chan hummed. “Be cautious, y/n.”

“He seemed so sweet.” You mumbled.

“Campus rumors aren’t always true.” Felix put his arm around you. “And drummers are hot. You should go for it. Did he seem interested in you?”

“I mean, I got his number.”

“Text him! Oh my God, text him!” Felix bounced in place. “Ask him on a date!”

“That seems a little presumptuous.” You smiled at his excitement. “But I’ll see if he wants to hang out or something.”

You opened your phone and started a text to Wooyoung, grinning that he’d put a little smiley face emoticon next to his name: “Wooyoung :)”.

“Hey, Wooyoung, it’s y/n.” You mumbled aloud as you composed the text. “Do you want to work on the bio homework together tomorrow, maybe after color correction?”

“You’re in a second class together?” Felix smiled. “Oh, this is meant to be.”

You rolled your eyes and sent the text.

Hyunjin had started to tell you about his painting class when your phone buzzed. You picked it up immediately. “Wooyoung :)” had texted back.

“Hi y/n! I’d love to. I’m free after color correction so we can totally go to the student center or something!” You read, a smile spreading across your face.

“Victory!” Felix pumped his fist in the air. “Date scheduled!”

“It is not a date.” You laughed. “We’re just doing homework.”

“Maybe right now it is.” Hyunjin smiled. “But it could become something more.”

“Exactly!” Felix chimed in.

You looked at Hyunjin. “Oh, not you chiming in.”

He smiled innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes, you do.” You shook your head, smiling. “I’ll let you all know how my not-date goes, okay?”

—

When you had color correction the next day, you walked into the class looking for Wooyoung. He must not have arrived yet, though, so you sat by some girls you knew from a film class a couple semesters ago. You didn’t remember any of their names, so you hoped you wouldn’t need to address them.

“Hey!” One of them greeted you. “It’s been a while! How are you?”

“Good!” You said absently, still looking around for Wooyoung.

“Who are you looking for?” One of the others said, twisting around in her seat.

“Do you know Wooyoung?” You said quietly.

“Drummer for Ateez Wooyoung?” The first one said. “You’re looking for him?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Careful with him.” One of them said. “He’s super cute, and he knows it.”

That made two people who’d warned you against him. You bit your lip. “He seems so nice, though.”

“He is nice!” The first one said. “That’s the issue. He’s so nice, and then suddenly he’s talking to some other girl, and doesn’t even worry about you anymore.”

“You’re talking from experience, Ella.” One of them nudged Ella’s shoulder, and she rolled her eyes.

You didn’t like these girls. You’d sat near them in your last class, but they’d always seemed a bit mean to you.

You stood up. “I think I’m gonna sit near the front so I can get the notes better.”

“Okay.” Ella nodded. “Cool.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile and picked up your bag, moving to the front of the room.

As if on cue, Wooyoung walked in the door, waving at you and walking over to sit beside you. Today he was in a black hoodie with a red and black design on it from Open Destruction, and black jeans. A tiny calculator hung from his belt.

“What’s that for?” You nodded at it.

He grinned. “Math, of course.”

“Oh, of course. Just in case.”

“Just in case.” He agreed. “How are you today?”

“I’m good.” You said. “I’m kind of dreading the bio homework, but it has to happen.” You sighed dramatically.

“It does.”

Before you could respond, Dr. Dewey walked into the room. “Hello, everyone! My name is Dr. Dewey, and welcome to color corrections.”

—

After class, you and Wooyoung walked to the student center together. “So, what’s the homework?”

“I think we read the textbook chapter and do the online quiz.” You said. “It shouldn’t be too bad, but I haven’t taken a biology class in a very long time, so I thought having someone to work with would be good.”

“I’m not very good at bio, but maybe if we put our heads together we can come up with something that makes sense.” He smiled.

You got to the student center and set up. Wooyoung went to get a coffee from the coffee shop, and you pulled out your phone.

11:56am, September 4

You: Just got to the student center :)

Felix: OMG YAAAAY

You: Don’t celebrate just yet lol, we’re just hanging out

Hyunjin: Sure. Remember to use a condom, y/n.

You: STOP IT HYUNE

Wooyoung returned with two cups in hand, and you put your phone away. “I didn’t know your coffee order, but you seemed like a caramel latte girl.”

You smiled, taking it. “I am! I love caramel lattes. Thank you, Wooyoung, I really appreciate it.”

He sat down across from you. “Of course.”

You both opened your laptops, navigating to the course page. “Ugh, I’ve said this before, but I hate biology.”

“Me too, but it’s a necessary evil.” Wooyoung said. “Gotta get the science credit.”

“Yeah.” You opened the textbook and began to read the first chapter. It all made sense so far, except for some information about the chemical makeup of microbes.

“I can’t quite get this. Page thirty four.” You said to him.

“Oh. I think I got that.” He began to explain it to you. It was all clear when he said it, and it wasn’t just because he was incredibly attractive as he described it. You stopped him after a couple minutes.

“Okay, I get it now. Thanks! You know, you’re not bad at bio.”

“I guess.” Wooyoung shifted in his seat. “I just don’t like it, so I don’t think I’m great.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re smart, Wooyoung.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at you. “Do you want to move on to the quiz?”

“Yeah.”

You did the quiz together, and both of you got a 90% on it. This was mostly due to Wooyoung’s biology smarts, but you helped on a lot of the questions, too.

“Perfect.” You smiled, closing your laptop. “This was great.”

“It was. You know… you should come to my place sometime. We can watch a movie or something.”

You were suddenly on high alert, the warnings from Chan and Ella echoing in your ears. “That sounds great!” You said anyway. You hadn’t known Wooyoung for long, but you liked him, and you didn’t want to keep your distance.

“I’ll text you.” He said, finishing packing his things.

You walked out together, separating as you walked one direction towards your apartment, and he walked the other. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes, for sure.” Wooyoung winked. “See you!”

“Bye!” You waved, hoping he couldn’t see your blush at his wink.

—

On Friday, you smoothed out your short white skirt as you stood in front of Wooyoung’s door, taking a breath before knocking.

Someone who was very tall and very not Wooyoung answered the door. “Hello?” He said, smiling and tilting his head. “Um, can I help you?”

“I’m— Wooyoung invited me over.” You stammered.

“Oh!” He leaned inside. “Woo! Your date’s here!”

“Coming!” Wooyoung’s voice said, and the way he didn’t deny you were his date made you go red. He appeared behind the other boy a minute later. “Come on in, y/n!”

“Thanks.” You said softly, stepping inside.

The other boy closed the door behind you, and you followed Wooyoung up the stairs.

His bedroom had a lot of stuff in it, but it was neat. The walls were decorated with band posters, and a drum kit sat in the corner. Trinkets sat on every available surface, and a TV was on the wall.

He switched it on, hopping on the bed. You gingerly sat on the edge, looking at the TV.

“You can get comfy, if you want.” He smiled.

“Okay.” You smiled and took off your shoes, then sat next to Wooyoung on the bed. “Oh, your bed is so comfortable.”

“I know.” He laughed. “I don’t like waking up early.”

“I can see why.”

Wooyoung queued up a movie on the TV, a comedy you’d never seen but wanted to. “I really like this one, if you want to watch a comedy?”

“I’d love to.” You smiled.

He started the movie, and you reclined back onto the pillows beside him.

You didn’t touch, but it already felt intimate to be so close to him. The movie was good, and hearing him laugh so much was adorable. You chatted as you watched, too, talking about the jokes, the characters, other movies you liked, classes, and music. You barely noticed when the movie ended, you were so caught up in your conversation.

Eventually you lay down with him, looking into each others’s eyes as you continued to talk. You began to notice his eyes drifting to your lips, then snapping back to your eyes when you said something. It was clear what he was thinking about.

There was a pause in conversation, and you smiled, just looking at him.

“Can I kiss you?” Wooyoung asked softly.

The alarm bells rang, deafening.

Chan. I’ve heard he’s a bit of a playboy. Be cautious, y/n. Ella. He’s so nice, and then suddenly he’s talking to some other girl, and doesn’t even worry about you anymore.

I’m just another girl to him.

You got up quickly, tears gathering in your eyes.

“It’s okay if not, y/n, I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.” Wooyoung said, a note of distress in his voice.

“Don’t play around with me, Wooyoung.” You said, your words wavering.

“What? I’m not playing around with— I’m sorry for asking so soon!”

“I’m not just another girl.” You got one shoe on fully and slid the other half-on, ready to get out of there as fast as you could. All he wanted from you was a kiss, or more, and then he’d be done with you. You’d thought you were moving towards something deeper with him, but you should’ve listened to the people you knew.

Sometimes, campus rumors were true.

You ran down the stairs, one of your Mary Janes sliding off on the stairs. You didn’t even worry about it, running out of the house and back to your car. You locked the doors and took a few deep, shuddering breaths, holding back your tears.

Wooyoung hadn’t followed you outside, and you were glad for it. You got yourself together as best you could and turned on your car. Instead of going home, you went to Chan’s apartment.

He answered the door. “Y/n? What happened, are you okay?”

“Wooyoung asked if he could kiss me.” You sobbed.

Chan just looked at you for a second. “Okay, come inside.”

You told Chan and Minho, who was over hanging out, about what had happened. “I was just another girl to him, he was just using me.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. “I’m sorry I told you that, y/n.” Chan said.

“Huh?” You looked at him.

“I heard that from a friend of Ella’s. It sounds like he really does like you. He got you coffee, he invited you over, and you talked for hours. That all sounds like someone who’s actually interested in you.”

“Really?” You hiccuped.

“Yes.” Chan nodded. “And as for Ella, well… she doesn’t sound like the most reliable source, if Wooyoung broke up with her.”

“Yeah, I don’t like her all that much.” You said with a rueful smile. “She talked about her exes all the time when I was in that other class with her.” You tried to remember if one of them had been named Wooyoung, but you couldn’t exactly recall.

“Sounds like someone might be a little bitter.” Minho noted. He looked down. “You’re missing a shoe.”

“Yeah, my Mary Jane fell off on Wooyoung’s stairs.” You held back another wave of tears.

“So, you have to see him to get it back.” Chan said quietly.

“I have to see him in a couple days for class, anyway.” You sighed. “Can I spend the night here? I don’t want to drive.”

“Of course. The couch is all yours.”

“Perfect, thank you, Chan.”

He rubbed your back. “Of course, y/n.”

Minho left a little later, and Chan got some blankets for you. You fell asleep fitfully, even on Chan’s famously comfortable couch.

You woke up the next morning disoriented. You felt like you hadn’t gotten any rest at all. Chan was already up, making eggs on the stove.

“Morning, sleepy. It’s 10.” Chan shoved the eggs around with a spatula. “I thought the smell of breakfast might wake you up.”

“It did.” You smiled. “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course.”

You looked at your phone.

One text from “Wooyoung :)”.

“Hey, I’m sorry about last night. I have your shoe, if you want to meet somewhere and I can give it back.” You read to Chan.

“He apologized.” Chan said. “I think that’s a good sign. If he was trying to use you I don’t know that he’d care enough to try to rebuild the relationship.”

“I guess.” You sighed. “I’ll get the shoe back and hear what he has to say.”

“I think that��s a good idea. But first, eggs.”

—

You gave Wooyoung Chan’s address. Chan had to leave to meet his sister for lunch, leaving you to meet him alone.

“Just give it a chance, okay?” Chan smiled at you, taking his keys off the hook by the door. “And if he’s a dick, we’ll all cut him off forever, okay?”

You smiled back. “Sounds good.”

Chan walked out, and you collapsed onto the couch, trying to prepare for what you’d say to Wooyoung, but all you could think about was yesterday on his bed, looking at each other and talking about anything and everything and smiling at each other.

You wanted to give him another chance, but you didn’t want to get played.

There was a knock at the door. You unlocked it with shaking hands.

Wooyoung was standing there with your pink Mary Jane in one hand and a bouquet of beautiful white and pink flowers in the other. “Hey, I got you these because I thought you’d like the colors, and, um, to apologize, I didn’t mean to freak you out moving so fast.” He said in a rush.

You felt yourself tearing up again, and you stepped aside to make space. “Come on in.”

“Is this your apartment?” He asked, looking around.

“No, it’s my friend Chan’s. I came here last night after, um… what happened, and I ended up sleeping on the couch, partially because I only had one shoe.”

“Well, I can help with that.” Wooyoung held it up.

You took the flowers from him, pushing your face into them and inhaling the beautiful scent. “Woo, these are beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them.” His smile was tentative, like he was… nervous.

You set them on the counter and went to sit on the couch, holding out your leg.

Wooyoung slipped the shoe on, looking at you. You could see him biting the inside of his cheek.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” You sighed. “I heard all these people telling me you were kinda a… a playboy, and I freaked out.”

Wooyoung closed his eyes. “Yeah, those rumors have been following me around since me and Ella broke up. She can be really nasty when she’s angry, which is part of why we… you know, broke up.”

You felt a flicker of hope. “So… you actually do like me?”

He laughed. “Of course I like you, y/n. I really did just want to kiss you.”

You patted the couch beside you. Wooyoung sat.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked.

His eyes widened. “Do you really want to?”

“Yes.” You said breathlessly.

He gently moved one hand up to your hair, combing through it with his fingers. “You’re so pretty, y/n. Yes, I’d love to kiss you.” And with that, he moved forward, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.

It wasn’t anything rough or demanding, rather, sweet and affectionate. Wooyoung was gentle and sweet and he tasted like mint, like he’d just brushed his teeth or had been chewing gum or something.

When you both pulled away, you bit your tingling lip. “You’re not mad?”

“No.” He shrugged. “You were just doing what you thought was best with the information you had. I don’t blame you for that.”

You smiled. “Can we go on another date then?”

He smiled back. “Of course. I know emo music isn’t entirely your style, but there’s this band I really like that’s coming into town in a couple days, and I have an extra ticket, if you’d like to come.”

Your eyes widened. “Actually, I really love emo music.”

“Really? You have about the most opposite style to emo I’ve ever seen.” He laughed.

“Hey, just because I don’t commit to the look doesn’t mean I can’t like the music!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “My bad, my bad! But, um, you want to do the concert, then?”

“Here, um, you’ve got…” You brushed a stray piece of hair away from his face. “I’d love to go to the show. What band?”

“Climb In, Girl. They’re one of my favorites.” You could see him light up as he mentioned them.

“That works out, I love them too!” You beamed.

“Perfect.” Wooyoung took your hand, squeezing it. “I’m so excited.”

“Me too.”

You just smiled at each other for a moment before Wooyoung leaned in to kiss you again.

[mrs-stans]

‘A Different Man’: Oscar-Nominated Makeup Artist Explains the Link Between Storytelling and Prosthetics

Mike Marino, who also worked on HBO’s “The Penguin,” earned his third Oscar nom for the Sebastian Stan film about self-acceptance

Face masks from the making of "A Different Man" (A24)

“I’m basically a storyteller, just with the skin on a character’s face,” explained Mike Marino, the prosthetics maestro whose reputation is fast becoming as lauded as movie makeup legends Rick Baker and Stan Winston.

At this year’s Golden Globes, Marino was acknowledged not once, but twice by winning actors on stage: First by Colin Farrell, who is unrecognizable in HBO’s “The Penguin”; and then by Sebastian Stan, who won for his role in the dark indie comedy about disfigurement and self-acceptance, “A Different Man.”

“That was a huge compliment,” Marino told TheWrap of the shoutouts. “People were texting me that night — producers and actors and heroes of mine like Rick Baker — joking, ‘These are the Marino Globes.’ I’ve been doing this for my whole life and I’m just super thankful and fortunate to do what I do. Prosthetics work isn’t the crazy, booming business it once was, but I’m following in the footsteps of my mentors and trying for greatness every single time, because that’s what I learned from them.”

Makeup artist Mike Marino and actor Sebastian Stan on the set of "A Different Man" (A24)

For his work on “A Different Man,” Marino notched his third Oscar nomination in the makeup category (shared with David Presto and Crystal Jurado). His previous noms were for “Coming 2 America” (2021) and “The Batman” (2022), but “A Different Man” is in a whole other key – the lowest budget of Marino’s three nominated movies, by many millions, with a svelte shooting schedule of just 22 days.

Directed by Aaron Schimberg, the story follows Edward (Stan), a man with facial disfigurement whose insecurities worsen after he undergoes a treatment to improve his face. After the change, he meets Oswald (Adam Pearson), a warm, chatty Englishman with the same facial condition as pre-transformation Edward.

A few weeks before the film began production in 2022, Marino was contacted via text message by Stan, who is also an executive producer on the film, asking if the makeup artist could lend his prosthetic gifts. Marino, who is based in New York, where the movie would be filmed, was intrigued.

“I read the script and thought, ‘This is totally strange and original and I need to do this,’” he recalled. “We’re living in a time where everyone’s trying to look as perfect as possible, and this story actually has something to say about that. Edward goes through this metamorphosis, where he becomes a handsome guy like Sebastian Stan, but after he loses his face, he doesn’t know who he is.”

With Pearson as a blueprint (the actor, who made his film debut in Jonathan Glazer’s “Under the Skin,” has neurofibromatosis), Marino crafted a three-piece silicone prosthetic for Stan’s character.

“In a previous era, it would have been seven or eight pieces, but the majority of this was one main piece, with also a tiny eyelid and a lower lip,” Marino shared. “And with Sebastian, we got it down to a two-hour application, once the hair and the eyebrows were glued on.” While not filming, Stan wore the makeup on the streets of New York City, both to test its credibility and to feel the reactions of passersby, a theme that the film handles with a mixture of poignancy and irony.

The story also called for several stages of makeup, as Edward is experiencing his facial transformation. For a scene in the bathroom, Marino paid homage to a moment from an 1980s ghost horror classic.

“Aaron, Sebastian and I, we’re super film geeks, and we watched that nightmare sequence in ‘Poltergeist’ where a guy in a mirror peels off part of his face. The funny thing is that for that movie, they only had one shot to get it right, so [screenwriter] Steven Spielberg stepped in and did the peeling himself. Those are his hands in the scene. For us, Sebastian had the responsibility to get it done just right, which he did perfectly.”

Marino also cited “The Elephant Man” as his favorite movie — the one that most determined the path of his life and career — and is grateful that critics and audiences have understood the ideas in “A Different Man” on similar terms.

“David Lynch captured the beauty and the humanity of Joseph Merrick in that film,” he said. “And I love the reactions to Adam’s performance in our film, which prove that people get it. People love Adam when they see him and talk to him, and it doesn’t matter what he looks like and all that superficial stuff.”

The history of movies, Marino mentioned, is notable for the contributions of makeup artists, as far back as Lon Chaney in the silent era and Jack Pierce, who worked on the original “Frankenstein.” Marino is an avid devotee of their efforts and even studied as a protégé under Oscar-winning makeup man Dick Smith (“The Godfather,” “The Exorcist,” “Amadeus”).

“I look at my work as who I am,” he said. “I’m not just a hired gun, which sometimes people want on their production. I have to be interested in the material and feel that it’s right, like with this movie. I love to approach a character and ask, ‘How did this person grow up? How do they live? What are they thinking?’ Makeup is storytelling.”

[cloveroctobers]

BODE LEONE — Spring Writings 🩵

A/N: Happy Fire Country Friday! It’s just me feeding the ghost town of a tag that was inspired by that last episode with a side of drama or triggers—i try my best to make spring writings more fluff based which you will get somewhere here. I want to say this takes place a year or two after this current season idk whatever makes sense lol. I know timelines are kinda confusing for this show so feel how you feel!

WARNINGS: strained parent and child relationship, established relationships, infidelity of other characters, mentions of abuse to minors, alluding to s*ic**e, PTSD, blood, lots of descriptions that I should be employed as a screenwriter for the show with the amount of detail I give but we can just pretend, also I’m assuming that Bode and Riley were at least two to three years apart whereas him and Jake are the same age? I think that’s about it enough!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 9. Our first dinner party & “god you’re bleeding! how the hell did you do that?” “i was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀

“God you’re bleeding! How the hell did you do that?” Bode’s voice booms off the “almost oyster,” kitchen walls, making you zone back in to the fact that your middle knuckle and tip of your thumb happened to be oozing red all over the makeshift counter and cutting board.

He’s scrambling around the kitchen, snatching a rag from underneath the sink to wrap around your two fingers awkwardly. Applying pressure, which you hiss at, you meet Bode’s concerned blue-green eyes to see that he’s waiting for an answer.

You sigh, “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

Bode keeps his hands securely over yours and barely glances at the work you started on along with your phone that keeps silently lighting up. He blinks his attention back to you, sensing that you were disconnecting and was not entirely sure why. It was your idea to have your first dinner party after he moved in with you at the high rise out in Hillford, which was thirty minutes west of Edgewater.

“I see that,” he starts, “you don’t even like tomatoes, so I’m not sure why that’s on the menu for tonight?”

Closing your eyes for a moment you lift your shoulders nonchantly, “your mom loves a good Mediterranean salad, so I thought why not give it a go?”

Bode snorts, “my mom wouldn’t know the difference if it was store bought.”

His mom was a decent cook but she hardly had the patience to keep up with it. Majority of the time Bode’s dad was the one to throw down thanks to his own mother and grandmother forcing him to learn. Sharon loved to eat and sample so she wouldn’t be too judgmental…unless she ended up with food poisoning then you’d never hear the end of it!

“Vince would depending on what it is.” You peer at him underneath your eyelashes while Bode breathed out a laugh, figuring that you were most likely right. Mr. Leone may seem like a go with the flow kind of guy but one thing about the Leone’s? They loved to eat and if the food wasn’t cutting it then some words would be said.

Bode hoped the idea of his parents being here tonight didn’t make you nervous. It wasn’t your first time having a meal with them and one thing Bode knew about his parents is that they rarely held back. They liked you and they wanted to see him rebuild his life after being released. They were just happy that Bode was finally able to do that but after that text you just received…you weren’t so sure if that would remain true.

Bode gently lifts the rag from your fingers, “the bleeding from your thumb seems to be slowing down but that knuckle might need some stitches.” He announces before raising your hand back above your heart.

Feeling a wave of frustration fly over your being once more, made you want to lay face first on the kitchen floor—if it was sanitary. Hey you kept a clean house, otherwise you wouldn’t be having any family over! You were a bit of germaphobe and tried to ignore the itch of your brain to get to cleaning the mess you left on the wooden table turned island, that you got from a antique store two years ago.

“Hey,” Bode grips you even tighter, prepared to handle the deadweight if you decided to just drop to the floor, “what’s wrong?”

This was more than just you losing blood.

Opening your eyes you move your body around to slump against Bode, who didn’t hesitate to rest his cheek against the back of your head, “Sharon invited my mom and Manny, which is okay, I guess! Then my mom invited Gabriela! Which automatically makes what’s his face, the fiancé, her plus one while also extending it to Eve who invited Jake.”

The mumbling from you was a bit difficult for Bode to grasp but he listened intently anyways to get the gist of it all. There were many things wrong with this and he was tempted to call his mother up right now—despite knowing she had no ill intentions. Sharon seemed to get a kick out of your mom (which only meant trouble) who was casually dating Manny and you already knew your mother was solely the one to drag Gabriela into this. You’ve known the Perez’ since what felt like forever, way back in San Diego where you and Gabriela both attended school and actually became friends due to being in the same friend groups. You both tried out for the swim team, Gabriela made it and you excelled better at gymnastics.

She had the dream of being in the Olympics while you were being shot up with steroids from your coach to be the next star of the team. There was Lilavati Sharma who was the face of the team and carried herself with such grace despite the pressure to always be the best. She was sweet with all the girls and guys on the team and was genuinely likeable. The coach favored her just a little too much to the point she was here and then in the next she wasn’t.

Her father pulled her away from the team and gave the coach a nice shiner to the face that took weeks to heal. That only made the coach train you harder until you broke your collar bone, becoming the biggest disappointment until the truth of your coach came to light after the unexpected death of Lilavati.

That’s when you learned, maybe second best wasn’t so bad after all but that didn’t mean your trauma needed to be diminished as well. You hurt for Lilavati more than you did for yourself and it took years for you to understand why that was.

The universe seemed to have it written in stone that you and Gabriela were meant to be in each other’s lives. Yes you were older now compared to high school but it was safe to say that the both of you have fallen out long before. There always seemd to be some sort of connect with your mother and Manny. They were both once married and Manny’s been raising Gabriela all on his own for as long as you could remember. You recalled the conversations Gabriela would have about the gap she had in her life because of her mother’s absence and how lucky you were to have your parents.

Well…your mother’s been cheating on your father since you were a kid and basically bullied you not to tell your father about it once you were a bit older. Although he’s always known, he hated that she put you in that position after realizing that you’ve known. By the time leaving for college came around, your dad was moving from San Diego to Northern California far out to Edgewater; after serving your mother divorce papers who gave him such a hard time on signing them. She even followed him all the way out there after putting the house up for sale a month before your graduation.

Going back and forth to court was a common thing between them along with a restraining order being filed and lengthy phone calls from your mouthy mother filled your head while studying for finals. So yes your upbringing was as peachy as everyone thought.

Bringing it back to present time, your father was remarried and seemed to be thriving with his new aeronautical engineer of a husband, that you had to cat-sit every time they left the country to explore the world. Your father’s always been open about his sexuality and made you comfortable (considering he was a psychologist) if you ever questioned anything of your own personal experiences. You were one of the rare cases where you always had crushes and flirted once it felt like those crushes also showed interest but…it never amounted out into much.

You never had a significant other until you reached college. Let’s just say, you didn’t marry your college sweetheart. That wasn’t your story. The idea of love that you had wasn’t the brightest although it’s something you always wanted to have, it was just hard to truly receive it. And here you were with a man that always fought through so much in life that also wanted to give love and be loved in return.

“So the gang is all coming basically?” Bode used one hand to gently rub your back, “we could just cancel. It was supposed to just be with my parents…although I don’t mind Manny and your mom tagging along but…inviting everyone else to our place without talking to us about it…is crossing boundaries. How’d you find out?”

It still felt odd for Bode to call this waterfront townhouse his as well but you constantly reassured him that he was open to doing anything that made him feel like the home was his too. For one contributing to the HOA fees was a good start (after fighting a lengthy battle with the court to get EMT training and finally getting a spot on CalFire as stable income was a long time coming). Pre-Prison Bode had jobs before—some that he’s walked out on—but being with CalFire gave him purpose with a smidge of financial freedom. He was able to spend money on things that mattered like annoying adult stuff, a creepy ornamental two piece banana sculpture that he installed on the wall of the breakfast room (a small separate area from the dining room), and you.

“Mom texted.” You huffed, “and I’m trying to get better at not blowing up on her but when she does things like this? It makes it so hard.”

It took a lot for you to stand up to your mother since you tended to hold everything in. Over the years it’s been a build up and she’s apologized various of times but it started to fall on empty ears when she continued to repeat her same patterns.

Bode hated that your mother caused you such anxiety. He’s cupping your face now, gently placing his forehead against yours, “what do you want to do? I’ll call mom and yours up right now if it’s too much? We can have dinner ourselves, just us two and see if there’s any new streams on that movie you’ve been telling me about.”

You send him a small smile, cherishing that, “the kebabs are already done along with half of the other food. We can’t eat all of this ourselves.”

Bode peeks over at the covered food on the rest of the counters then back to you with a smirk of a smile, “want to bet?”

“Bode!”

“What? I can eat and I’ve been dying to try a kebab since you slapped my hand with a Spatula an hour ago.” He playfully glares at you, “I needed a snack.”

“There’s always crackers.”

Bode furrows his brows, “…I thought you loved me but I think you’re trying to starve me. What is this? Three rock?”

You laughed, “well at least one of us has an appetite and I just want to get through this night and enjoy the company of what I thought would just be with Sharon and Vince.”

Bode nods his head, “we still have time if you change your mind so, I’ll give you until after I’ve cleaned you up.”

“I love that you already know that I want you to do my stitches.”

Bode slides an arm across your hips to guide you out of the kitchen, “of course I know my baby. You nearly collapse every time you see prices in the grocery store when we’re out so I can only imagine what the bill from urgent care would look like. Lucky for you, you have a certified first responder as a boyfriend.”

He’s careful with you as he guides you up the narrow creaky stairs to the second floor to the main bathroom and you’re reminded this is the love you deserve.

You’re seated on the toilet while Bode is making a mess—like he commonly does—searching for what he needs. His hands are large and quick as they work the needle through the thread before setting it aside. He turns back to you, moving your hands from the pressure you’re applying against the rag, before motioning for you to keep it on the knuckle while he cleans, applies antibiotics and bandages your thumb first.

Bode kisses your thumb over the bandage, “how are we doing? Feeling faint? Do you need water? I probably should have asked before we came up here.”

“I’m fine.” You smile softly at him as he grabs a stool to sit down on as it’ll take him longer to work on your knuckle, “thanks for checking.”

He hums in response, “want to talk about work as a distraction?”

Blood didnt really bother you but you did cringe at the thought of needles. You can go ahead and write down PTSD note takers! You were an application security specialist, yes a true nerd, and also damn good at your stressful but fulfilling job but it was the weekend so that was a negative.

You redirect the conversation, “I’d like to draw you your next tattoo.”

Did you have artistic abilities like Bode? Let’s just say you were more of a data person while also being pretty athletic—although gymnastics was somewhat history you still found yourself stretching and working out to be crucial to your health routine—you had your own taste.

“Yeah?” Bode asks as he gets to work, “are you telling me you don’t like the two I already have?”

You shake your head, “sure I do. They have their own significant stories, which I’d never change and I have ideas if that artist brain of yours craves for more ink.”

“Appreciate that…so what’s on your mind?”

You deeply inhale as you feel the needle piercing your skin but talk through it, “you’re surprisingly into some odd art and I’ve been looking at vintage Halloween art that my co-worker is obsessed with and thought, why not create a wizard frog with a pointy star hat, wand and everything?”

“A wizard frog?” There’s a teasing tone in Bode’s voice while he pictures it as he pulls tight before going back to your skin while you hold your breath, “Magic’s not really my thing especially since I told you about my dad having me watch that one weird movie with Anthony Hopkins. Riley on the other hand? Could sit up for hours watching that horror crap with my dad…although she always ended up in my room, stealing my covers while talking away as I tried to sleep. As her big brother I dealt with it if that meant keeping her nightmares away, although I regretted it in the morning.”

The both of you share a laugh at this.

What you knew of Riley was that her and Bode were sorta opposites. She had the kindest big round blue eyes, was friendly and open to having conversations with strangers whereas Bode was more reserved before he felt comfortable enough to approach. Apparently she was soft spoken yet determined, into the well-being of animals that she planned to be a vegetarian once she was older, liked magic tricks and horror movies but only if that meant she got more time to bond with Vince that is. She seemed to have a heart on her sleeve and probably would have been a veterinarian if she lived past sixteen.

“Just big brother duties.” You inhale air between your teeth, “and I think she would like my wizard frog idea.”

“Yeah…I can see you two plotting against me.” Bode smiles over at you before giving one last tug before snooping off the excess thread, “all set.”

Before he can even move to start cleaning up, you throw your arms across his shoulders and give him a squeeze. Bode pauses but buried his nose against your fuzzy cardigan before rubbing your back against your embrace once more.

“What’s this for?”

You say, “just because I love you and I’m happy to have you here with me, which I know I probably don’t say enough since words of affirmation is more your thing than mine but I stand by this. I look forward to many more days with you, good and challenging.”

Bode feels his body go warm at your words and pulls back to meet your eyes. “I can’t wait and I love you too, softie.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles at you while you scratch at his facial hair.

“…You’ll think about the wizard frog?”

Bode sighs with a small smile on his lips, “If it makes you happy, love.”

“Cop out answer!” You flick his broad shoulder with your good hand.

“How?” Bode lifts his shoulders in confusion.

You crinkle your nose in annoyance, “You can’t ever say what I want to hear and make me think I’m always the winner, fight back.”

“Okay…I’ll remember that when I don’t want to watch the traitors uk with you.” Bode holds your stare while you gasp with a hand to your chest and then nod your head, mentally saying that was fair game.

Bode can already tell what you’re thinking, which makes him grin at you before leaning forward to cautiously peck your lips. You humph before slowly pushing yourself to get to your feet and steady yourself.

Bode’s hands are immediately on your hips as you balance yourself and you give him a nod in reassurance before leaning forward. You connect your lips again, his beard tickling your face as you breathe him in. He smells sweet like amber, fresh but calming like cypress, and warm sandalwood and you feel like you could just sink into him endlessly but manage to pull away.

“You sure you don’t want to cancel? We could do more of that and I wouldn’t mind.” Bode squeezes your hips with a lick of his own lips.

You pull from his grip, “that’s what Sunday is for, a day with no plans! Now let’s go, chop chop! We have a dinner to finish.”

And you’re out of the bathroom before Bode can even blink. He’s shaking his head at you and calls out, “fine. Don’t touch any more knives though!”

Once putting everything back where it belongs, he stares at his reflection in the mirror. He’s not entirely thrilled to have Jake here, since they were attempting to get back to where they once were but Bode wasn’t holding his breath since he felt like Jake was trying to live what could have been his when it came to Genevieve. It took time for him to accept what happened when they were teenagers meaning with Riley but since he’s been locked up? It felt like it was one thing after the next even in his freedom. Then there was Gabriela…which you had your own issue with although you tried to downplay it and there was a smidge of a history that Bode had with her that probably didn’t help…

He just hopes this dinner isn’t a true disaster for both of your sakes but at least he could have the task of throwing someone out…if it came to that of course.

That wasn’t what brought a smile to his face, it was the thought of hosting something that he could call his own with the person he wanted to spend countless days with.

You.

⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀

[the-indigo-symphony]

I'm honestly kind of amused by the idea that purposeful fusion is murder. Like, both of us consented. We had long discussions about it. And we're both still here, just now as one. It just reminds me of the idea that all BDSM is abuse – the idea of mutual consent and desire seems impossible for these people to grasp; it can never be that both of us wanted this, it must always be that one of us forced the other into it. But since both of us consented, following this logic, it turns into a sort of... double murder-suicide? Except the victims are still both alive.

It also mimics the idea that transition "kills" a person because they've "changed too much". Again, we are both still here. We are just different. We have merged our identities into one being, and the only reasons we still use "we" is because we like it more and feel it illustrates a point here. And the interesting thing is... You're accusing us of harming each other, but you don't actually care about any harm we go through, do you? If you did, you would listen when we tell you that prior to fusion, both of us were listless, dysphoric, tormented by our lack of solid identity and self. You would know that fusion made us stable and able to feel happy. You wouldn't suggest that our recovery is an act of selves-harm and violence. You would wait two seconds before opening your mouth and discover that we went through careful steps to ensure our fusion would lessen our suicidality – and it did! Being fused, we "both" want to die a lot less, now! Because we fused, we can actually enjoy life now, and have a greater chance of sticking around to see it... If you actually cared about the harm and pain a system like us can go through, you would see exactly how similar what you're saying is to how transphobes talk about transition. You wouldn't make up this narrative that something extremely good for our health is murder.

These people are also generally... very pushy about their own philosophical beliefs. Sorry, but no, not everyone sees their own selves as individual people. And even those that do reserve the right to autonomy; if your argument is that people in a system are not allowed to make major decisions about their own life precisely because they're in a system... If you think people in a system cannot possibly consent to major life changes, unlike singlets... whoopsiedoopsie! Sounds like you're just a regular pluralphobe to me!

I'd listen to this accusation more if it didn't sound like the exact same shit TERFs and bigots in general say. There's no need to listen to someone who makes wild accusations due to completely misunderstanding a situation and tries to push their own beliefs onto everybody else. You're indistinguishable from a pushy Evangelical, right down to the "(x action that doesn't actually end any lives and in facts contributes to saving them) is murder!"

... Also, I find it funny to imagine them yelling at a TV whenever the trope of body merging comes on. "Don't these screenwriters know that's murder?!"

So, yeah, I find this whole notion so very, very silly.

[themboty]

~~writeblr intro~~

Hello, I'm Ty! I'm recently back on Tumblr after a few years and would love to meet some writers with similar interests to possibly talk about WIP's and the wonderful world of writing!

click below to learn more about me

Me!

I'm in my early twenties, a lesbian, and genderfluid. I also use all pronouns!

I'm a recent college graduate with minors in creative writing and film production (my major isn't all that interesting unless you really wanna know)

I tend to read queer contemporary fiction, however this year I'm really trying to open my library more and read outside of my genre. If you have any book reqs send them my way.

Outside of books I enjoy crochet, sims, watching niche video essays at 3am, and arguably bad tv that includes at least 1 (one) queer character.

I have never been casual about anything in my life

My Writing!

I am currently writing the first draft of my first novel How to Drown (working title). It deals with themes of mental health, addiction, family dynamics, found family, and growth. Eventually I want to share snippets, but when I say first draft I mean a rough first draft.

I am also plotting/planning a second unnamed novel. This unnamed work started as the first act of a movie script for my screenwriting final a few semesters ago and the story stuck (just not in a script oh god i cant write scripts)

I'm open to any and all tag games, feel free to use me when you cant think of anyone else lol

please ask me about my stories i love to yap

If you made it this far thank you so much for reading I hope you have an amazing day!

[hashtagloveloses]

But the real root of the problem seems to be that Disney higher-ups see these characters as only dollar signs, so they gave a visionary and talented creator the bare minimum amount of time and resources to continue their stories. The show didn’t need to be good to sell merchandise, especially when the characters were already familiar to viewers, similar to how the Marvel Cinematic Universe has apparently been cutting key elements of the TV production process to churn out its many IP-stretching series. Here lies the bittersweet truth of Ahsoka — this eight-episode streaming series with one writer, the corporate pressure to maintain a streaming service’s profitability, and the responsibility of launching the future direction of the entire franchise, was doomed from the start. Whether it continues with another season, a movie, or not at all, Ahsoka is another victim of late-stage capitalism’s path of destruction through Hollywood, decimating incredible storytelling potential in its wake. Even Filoni’s considerable talent, much like that of J.J. Abrams, Rian Johnson, or any of the gifted screenwriters and directors these studios bring on for both major franchises and original prestige projects, can’t stand up to Hollywood’s intellectual property machine turning almost everything into passable “content,” good enough for merchandising and driving subscriptions. A few genuinely wonderful projects, like Andor, and compelling characters and concepts, like the Mandalorian, miraculously slip through the cracks to keep audiences interested, but this IP-squeezing race to the bottom continues. Let’s just hope that the recent gains by the WGA and rise in unionization across the industry can prevent it from continuing before more beloved characters are put through the wringer.

i wrote this piece about ahsoka, a show i'm so so sad didn't live up to it's potential, and what it says about the entertainment industry right now. i am not a total hater, and there really were things to love about this show, but i needed to get out how disappointing it all feels, and hopefully i got that across. thanks for reading!

[theladyfulcrum]

Come here children. Come here. Sit down. Take my hands. Listen.

Here’s what we are not going to do. We are not going to let them unravel us and leave us in a heap of bawling bodies. They want us to sob until our eyes fall out and we rupture our abdominal organs because they’re heartless and sadistic and part of STAR WARS—shhh, steady—but we are going to remain CALM. Call it denial, call it call it bargaining, call it what you will, but he’s not gone.

Deep breaths, all together now. Crying is cathartic and necessary for coping with the emotional abuse we endure at the hands of Filoni et al., but don’t cry from lost hope. I’m serious. Was it among the worst things we could have possibly been forced to watch? Has a good majority of the fandom been mulling where the hell we are supposed to find the will to go on after that? Of course. But they’ll be back. And Tech will be, too.

Hush, child. Listen to me.

There was a reason he fell into cloud-cover. He could have been falling into anything. Water can be lethal from that height, yes, but let’s all just remember what Hunter pulled in War-Mantle with falling OUT OF A SHIP and down a LITERAL MOUNTAIN and surviving that with JUST HIS KNIFE. HIS KNIFE, KIDS. Tech accepted what he was doing, and he was okay with dying if that was what this meant, but he’s Tech. Once he fell from view he did whatever he could to increase his odds of getting out of it alive. Trust.

Speaking of falling from view— we know the Clone Wars rules. No body, no confirmed death. Forget that— we know the STAR WARS rules. Even if someone gets SLICED IN HALF before your VERY EYES and FALLS AN INDETERMINABLE-BUT-DEFINITELY-NOT-SURVIVABLE DISTANCE, they STILL aren’t dead. Further still, if you had put the two scenes in front of me with no context, I would have said Echo’s death in an EXPLOSION of FIRE seemed more final and certain that Tech falling away from us. And no, I don’t care about the argument that it’s a kId’S ShOW so they wouldn’t show us the body. Go watch Colt’s death and get back to me. Or you know, pretty much any Clone Wars episode.

BUT THE GOGGLES, you wail. I know, dear heart, I know. I see the cracks in them every time I close my eyes. But Hemlock getting his hands on those isn’t confirmation of anything other than what we already know— no matter where he wound up, Tech is having a Very Bad Time™️. Whether he lost them on the extremely unpleasant way down or whether he’s being experimented on in critical condition is hardly a nicer thing to know, but we’ll take just about anything right now if it means we’ll see our boy again, won’t we?

Shhh, I’m not through. We also have that scene with Phee. If it had been a true goodbye, if Tech had shown an ounce of the development he had with Omega about differences in emotional processing and communication, you’d have seen my soul depart through the atmosphere. But no. That scene’s entire purpose was to be unresolved. Was it just to make us incurably sad in retrospect? Maybe. But my gut says no— there’s more he needs to say to her.

On that note, the same goes for Tech and Crosshair. I refuse to believe we’ll never see them together again. I don’t have anything stronger than my refusal, but my feelings on this are rock solid. There’s also the important issue of THE Bad Batch theme— you know how they’ve established a precedent of not using it unless the whole Batch is together? Collectively, we’re going to refuse to believe they’re going to break that now. And there’s too much love for that theme to never hear it again.

Finally, beloveds, we come to our old favorite: story analysis. You know I’m insufferable about this, but listen. If we look at screenwriting, if we look at story structure, if we look at BEATS, this is the old “DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL” for the Batch (and us obviously). It’s the ALL IS LOST. The EVERYTHING IS AWFUL AND THE HEROES ARE AT THEIR LOWEST LOW. It’s the classic “oh my god this second installment is EMOTIONAL TORTURE HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME” that we can point to in novels, shows, and film series again and again. It’s the ESB ending, it’s the Catching Fire ending, it’s the Rebels S2 AHSOKA IS D E A D AND ANAKIN KILLED HER ending. S3 will open as they enter Act III, where they use what they’ve learned to move upwards toward the finale of this particular story arc. Doesn’t that sound like something nice to cling to?

There now. If I’m wrong, I’ll give you all the choice of k!lling me first or tossing me alive out of a plane with no *hard swallow* parachute, jet pack, or functional grappling gun. But I truly believe you won’t have to.

In the year or two we have to wait, cry for his absence, cry for the Batch being more fractured and farther apart than they ever have been, cry for Hunter feeling like he’s failed everyone he loves, cry for all of it, but not because you’ve lost hope that all might not be lost.

Tech will be back.

[clairedaring]

Spare Me Your Mercy is less a "Sammon series" than it is a "Wo+Lux series"

So I came across this Reddit post where OP explains how they're unable to enjoy the ongoing "Sammon series" aka SMYM and Petrichor.

And it just doesn't make sense to me how people keep categorising SMYM as a Sammon series when she didn't even do the screenwriting on this one, at most she's consulted for professional and specialised knowledge. Meanwhile Petrichor is based on the novel "Rust in the Rain" (หยดฝนกลิ่นสนิม) by SixTeenSeven but it's a Sammon series because she wrote the script for Petrichor with five other screenwriters.

I don't know but for me I'd find it more appropriate to compare Spare Me Your Mercy to series like To Sir With Love, Century of Love, Laws of Attraction or even Kahon Maha Ratuek which are directed by Wo & written by Lux.

Spare Me Your Mercy has already deviated itself by being an adaptation of two volumes of Euthanasia by Sammon rather than being a close-to-novel adaptation of one Sammon novel like MOD and Triage. Perhaps it having similar characteristics (rural settings, cops, doctors, thriller, crime, mystery, investigation) is enough for some to brand it a "Sammon series" but it's not the case for me.

Absolutely no idea where I'm going with this but I'm just really frustrated at people calling it a "Sammon series" when all the "underdeveloped", "rushing" sentiments are due to the major condensing of a large body of source material rather than a weak story (I have my tiny qualms with the novels as well, don't get me wrong but that's a story for another day. Great books though, could do with better translations).

Like you don't compare a Ma-Deaw Chookiat Sakveerakul work and a Wo Worawit work just because they have source material from the same author. That is not to mention that production company aka producers can have large influence over a story (especially its ending) and thus politics of producing a series for a BL koojin can also affect quality of a work.

Condensing stories wise aside, I do think Spare Me Your Mercy is doing a great job on sparking the debates on euthanasia with fair amount of scenes spent on Kan & Tew talking about their clashing views on this topic. If Lux and Wo's sole goal in making this series is to showcase a crime investigation series with two main characters having clashing views on euthanasia, I think they're doing well.

It's surely debatable whether the main characters' romance is convincing or not (This discourse I will I leave this to the non-readers who are getting to know KanTew throught the series and not reader audience like myself). Characterisation wise, I would say they're the exact same as the novels, with the lacking aspect being a lack of runtime to flesh out and develop the serial killings/the investigation/the development of characters' relationship.

I'm probably getting beside the point but perhaps if you want to watch a good suspense lakorn from screenwriter Lux about a cop investigating serial killings with his lover being a prime suspect, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND Kahon Maha Ratuek กาหลมหรทึก (2018) (engsub grey watch here)

No idea what my original point was in writing this since I'm not a stan of any of the mentioned creators (Wo, Lux, Sammon...) so I'm not writing this as a defense for anyone... I just prefer that critical comparisons be made with understanding of context and acknowledgement to different creative teams of respective series instead of crediting/attributing everything to one popular name in BL-sphere and using that to make quick judgements of a series.

[kaccvcate]

Howdy everybody. I'm fresh from a research trip to the state capital, Jackson, home of the Mississippi Vital Records office and the Mississippi Department of Archives and History, which I now have a very fancy membership card to.

Before getting into my family history, I'm gonna rehash some stuff for the new readers. I adopted the name Panther from my uncle/father, legendary blues-punk guitarist Scott Panther. My biological father is the screenwriter and infamous madman, Rogan Russell Marshall. Rogan's grandfather had a Choctaw nation birth certificate, although his mom (my Jewish grandma) once confessed to my mom that he was actually the son of her Athabaskan friend and not her husband. She met her husband in San Francisco, and both were living on the Athabaskan reservation in Alaska when my dad was born - his birth certificate says Anchorage, but he was actually born in Tok. Rogan and I met when I ran away from home as a teenager, and to put it mildly he wasn't a good father. After one time he kicked my ass for no reason, I destroyed the paternity test proving we're related in a fit of pique, plus any old childhood photos, letters from my mom or mentioning my mom, etc (lol). I could probably call some office and get a new copy of the paternity test, which could allow me to prove I'm Choctaw if I wanted to.

For those who are uneducated, a genetic test doesn't show what nation you're from, it will just say "native american" or some such, and I don't care to have my my primary cultural heritage reduced to a tiny little number. I feel like the Europeans in my family have done nothing but take advantage of all my other relatives, not to mention I've never even known any of them, so it's hard to find pride in that, even if it's the only side of my family that cultural pride is socially acceptable for.

Since my mom's family completely raised me, I tend to think of myself as being Muskogee. Passed down from my mom's side are a lot of verbal and cultural traditions. My great grandmother understood Muskogee, she passed on a few names for plants and foods to my grandma. Several folk stories and family recipes I found corroborated by other Muskogee people online, and there are a lot of small things like how my family would make spoons, birdhouses, and other crafts from sculpted dried squash, general philosophic ideas, the fact that we never went to church and were raised to respect women, etc. My mom told me all about the game stickball when I was young, and knew many details of how it was played and its place in Muskogee society, information passed down from her grandma, despite the fact that my relatives are totally disinterested in other sports of any kind. I also have a very thick and distinctive accent, and was questioned on my nationality by other native people I met several times as a child, before I ever brought it up to my family. In high school I had a Cherokee art teacher named Dr. Craig Kirk, he was the first to ask if I had ever been to New Mexico. The second was a Dine lady named Summer Bear, a regular at a bar I worked at in Tampa, Florida, in 2019. Both conversations went basically like this:

Them: Where are you from?

Me: Mississippi.

Them: Your accent reminds me of people I've met in New Mexico.

Me: That's weird, I've never been to New Mexico.

Them: Well you should probably ask your family about it.

A lot of Muskogees and other southeast natives went to New Mexico as refugees, so there are quite a few people with my accent living there. In Albuquerque I felt right at home, it's a breathtakingly beautiful city, surrounded by incredible wildlife parks, well worth visiting.

Being native was never discussed openly when I was young, I honestly figured as a kid that everyone knew all about native crafts and folklore. As an adult I've obviously found this is not the case. My mom is honestly a bit racist against black people, and she would ensure I attended majority white schools when she could. When white kids at school would make fun of the way I look and talk, I just figured I was ugly and stupid. I never made enough close European friends to know that my experiences were unusual. My few friends in childhood were black, mestizo, Jewish, or Asian, I only had one friend whose family were recent immigrant Scottish pagans. For the most part I was badly abused and always acting out, so I was extremely isolated and couldn't keep anyone around long. When I moved to Europe at 15 I felt so out of place that within 6 months I almost killed myself, ran away from home, and ended up back in the States because of it. Last year I visited Okmulgee, the capital of the modern day Muskogee nation in Oklahoma, and spent a few days hanging out at the local bar and talking to people in the linguistic preservation office and at the university. Just at face value, no one questioned my heritage or doubted me for even a second. Actually one guy asked me about my other native heritage, because I seemed too native to have only one great-great grandparent.

So this brings me to my research today. My grandma's and mom's verbal lore is that my great great grandma was definitely over 100 when she died based on historical events she remembered, but never had an official birth certificate (Mississippi only began to print them in 1917 I think.) My grandma told me her actual Muskogee name only once, and I immediately forgot it because as I said, I am very stupid. In searching for records I discovered that she has an official European name and lineage, Emma Susie Schultz, gravestone marked 1910-1998. There is a recorded birthdate for her in 1910, which would obviously make her only 88, despite the fact that in the photo I've seen from when she died, she looked way older, impossibly old. If she's German, how the hell did she know how to speak Muskogee? There's just way too much evidence that she was native for me not to believe it. In one hand-drawn portrait from when she was young, which my grandma had framed on the wall, she had straight dark hair in Princess Leia type buns, a traditional Muskogee hairstyle, and simply didn't look like any Aryan I've met, and that's aside from all my other experiences. My best guess is that she was adopted and the family hid all evidence, I genuinely can't think of anything else. It wouldn't be too surprising as one of my great great aunts was also black, obviously of African descent, but when my mom asked my great aunt about it, she said "What are you talking about? That's your great aunt Naomi, she wasn't black." This while literally looking at a photo of a woman being black. Mississippi and Alabama (where my family lived also) were segregated until the 1960s, so there was quite a lot of social pressure to declare yourself to be white. It wasn't just separate bathrooms and drinking fountains, for a long time non-whites couldn't own property. So for the time and place my relatives must have been extraordinarily accepting and open-minded.

Hope you enjoyed tonight's little window into hell. Thanks for reading.

[acourtofthought]

Do you have any theories about who will be High King/Queen? If SJM does go with that story

Rhys seems like an obvious option but I wonder if that's too obvious. The fact that Sarah wrote Cassian thinking "No other male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys" and Amren saying, "But know that the Cauldron's benevolence will be extended to you only for so long before it's offered to another" has me thinking she's just begging the reader to say, "I know someone!!!!"

I think Lucien is a possible option because of that. He is 100% a male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys, maybe even more so. Rhys has a complete bias towards the NC, especially Velaris. I'm not saying I don't understand why, he's been the one responsible for the safety of his people for centuries however, he's already made a negative name for himself in other courts because of things he's done, he's not trusted. Lucien, on the other hand, seems to be more concerned about doing the right thing for many courts. Spring, the NC, he shows remorse for letting down the people of Autumn in regards to Jesminda's death, he spent his youth making friends with the sons of other HL (who at this point might even be HLs themselves), he went out of his way to help the humans after the war, etc. Because Lucien doesn't have sole loyalty to any one place, I think he'd be the least biased ruler.

I also think people forget that Sarah has slowly but surely been setting Lucien up for something big. "He was barely in SF! Sarah forgot about him!" Lucien has been one of a handful of characters around since book 1. Even Az / Cassian / Amren / Mor weren't in Sarah's mind when she wrote book 1 and Sarah didn't think the sisters would be more than cardboard cutouts of wicked sisters in book 1. That means Lucien, even before the IC and the sisters, was a fully fleshed out character for her, someone she tells us has always one of her favorite characters. And Lucien has been the only male character since book 1 outside of Rhys who remained a good guy versus Tamlin who Sarah sent in a downward spiral. While Tamlin was left behind in Spring, Sarah had Lucien travel with Feyre to the NC. Sarah had Lucien as the one who met Papa Archeron and Koschei (since she retconned him meeting up with Vassa/ Papa A at a later point and instead had him at the lake with their father). Sarah changed his father so that instead of a tragic backstory that connected him to the Autumn Court, he now has a tragic backstory in the Autumn Court AND a secret Day Court heritage, setting him up to be a possible future HL where he not only has strong powers from his mothers line but that of Helion powers as well. Since I can't imagine Sarah writing Helion off, Lucien is going to need a purpose. In the same book she wrote Helion and Rhys as BFF's, she connected Helion to the Pegasus and Trove items (which are connected to the history of Theia and the Starborn fae) and introduced the High King plotline. And through all of that, she has continued writing Lucien as literal perfection. I'm not even saying that with bias, I'm saying it based on how all other authors / screenwriters write many heroes. He is snarky and sassy while also respectful and humble. He's genuinely good and decent, apologizes and feels remorse. He's intelligent and brave and tries to help out wherever he ends up but is never overly cocky. He's "I want to help however I can because it's the right thing to do" not, "you clearly need me because I'm the best". We as the reader know he's got all sorts of hidden powers that he isn't aware of though he constantly feels like he's not good enough, not strong enough to stop the people he badly wishes he could stop.

The reason Lucien was in the background in SF is because he's not meant to be a major part of the NC. He's not meant to be best friends with Nesta or Cassian. He's not there to serve Nesta's healing arc. It's not difficult to understand that Sarah is setting Lucien up for his own path. There are so many characters connected to the NC but that leaves Lucien as having alllllllll the connections to alllllll the places outside of that. While he is an ally to the NC, he's also the contact for Spring, for the Human Lands, he's going to have strong connections to Autumn because of his brother and mother, he's going to have connections to Day because of his father. Rhys and Feyre will be family to him because I strongly feel Elain and Lucien are endgame but Sarah doesn't need to write Lucien as relying on the NC for anything because they already rely on him for a lot of information. Therefore, we didn't need Lucien having major page time in a Nessian book, Nesta did not serve Lucien's future arc in any way. Cassian did not serve Lucien's arc in any way. And he did not serve their arcs (Valkyrie / Illyrian related stuff) in any way. But that doesn't take away how Sarah when is ready to write about all the other places on their world map (outside of the NC), she already laid the groundwork for Lucien to be the most connected to it all and because of that, I can't imagine anyone who would more easily slide into the role of High King, someone who has already shown he cares about more than just one court and someone who has the experience of being in charge since he kind of ran Spring for Tamlin half the time.

Or maybe Sarah will go a completely different route and put Mor in place as High Queen rather than High King. We know she's of a royal lineage as her bloodline was of the ruling family of the NC before Rhys, we know she was an ally to the humans long ago, we know that she's not 100% committed to the NC and NC alone (since Rhys tells us in ACOFAS that he could see the noose tightening around her neck in the NC, that he could sense her need to roam beyond the borders of the NC.