u/Careless-Raccoon-490

I was thinking more about what bothers me with Evil Dead Burn and Evil Dead Rise, and I realized my problem has less to do with the tone and more to do with the fact that Evil Dead doesn't really have a protagonist anymore at least not one who feels like the ongoing hero of the franchise. And this isn't an Ash Williams circle jerk post. I love Ash, but his story is over, and I don't think it needs to continue. The franchise shouldn't spend the rest of its existence trying to drag Ash back or recreate him with a different character. But I do think Evil Dead needs someone.

That's part of what has always made Evil Dead such an outlier among horror franchises. In most horror movies, the monster is the real star. You watch Friday the 13th for Jason or A Nightmare on Elm Street for Freddy. Evil Dead eventually became the opposite: you cared just as much if not more about the person fighting the monsters. The Deadites are great villains, but watching someone get absolutely put through hell and eventually become capable of fighting back against them is a huge part of the appeal.

That's also why I loved Evil Dead (2013). Mia worked because, by the end, she didn't just survive the Deadites she fought back and put them on the run. It felt like we were watching the birth of another Evil Dead hero, someone who could potentially carry that struggle forward without simply becoming Ash 2.0. The newer movies haven't really given me that same feeling. Beth was great, and Alice was great, but neither feels like the beginning of a recurring protagonist. I don't get the sense that Beth is going to return, and despite everything Alice went through, she ultimately became a Deadite.

And I think that's my real problem with the direction of the newer Evil Dead movies. We keep getting new groups of characters who encounter the Deadites, suffer horribly, and then the movie ends. There's no longer that sense that we're following someone whose relationship with this evil is becoming personal someone who survives one nightmare and comes back better prepared for the next one.

It shouldn't be Ash. It doesn't have to be Mia, Beth, or anyone we've already met. It could be an entirely new character. But I think Evil Dead works best when it has a hero at its center: someone we can become invested in, someone who grows across multiple encounters with the Deadites, and eventually someone the Deadites have as much reason to fear as we have to fear them.

I want to start this post by saying that I don’t hate Evil Dead Rise or Evil Dead Burn. I actually think there’s a lot to like about both of them. But the more I think about the direction the franchise is going in, the more I feel like Evil Dead is slowly losing the identity that made it stand out in the first place and becoming, for lack of a better word, a little generic. And as much as I hate using this term, at times it almost feels like gore porn. I’ve been watching through the Evil Dead franchise with my friend from the Philippines, and seeing the movies back to back has made this stand out to me a lot more. The newer movies obviously still have the gore, the Deadites, the possessions, and all the other surface level things we associate with Evil Dead, but I feel like they’re missing a lot of the actual spirit behind those things.

The gore is probably the biggest example. Evil Dead has always been insanely violent, but the violence used to have this ridiculous, almost cartoonish energy to it. It could be disgusting, hilarious, creative, and completely over the top at the same time. Now it feels like the gore is increasingly just there to be gross and make you uncomfortable. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that kind of horror, but when you take away the campiness and dark comedy, I think Evil Dead starts feeling a lot more like any other extremely violent supernatural horror franchise.

I also miss how much personality the Deadites used to have. They weren’t just scary possessed people they were cruel, funny, theatrical, weird, and had tons of variations. They would taunt the characters, mess with them psychologically, laugh at them, and generally feel like they were having the time of their lives being evil. Even the different Deadites felt memorable in their own ways. In the newer movies, I feel like that personality has been toned down in favor of making them more disturbing and grotesque.

But probably the biggest thing I miss is having characters I can genuinely rally behind. One of the weird things about Evil Dead compared to a lot of horror franchises is that, for me, the protagonists were often more memorable than the monsters. Ash is obviously the biggest example, but Pablo and Kelly were huge parts of why Ash vs Evil Dead worked, and even Mia gave the 2013 movie someone memorable to root for. These characters had personality. You wanted to see them survive, fight back, and eventually turn the tables on the Deadites. That feeling just isn’t as strong for me anymore.

And I’m not saying the newer movies are bad. I know plenty of people love them, and I completely understand why. They’re well made, brutal horror movies with some great sequences. I just keep coming back to the same question: what makes them specifically Evil Dead? Because to me, Evil Dead was always the horror franchise that somehow managed to be disgusting, terrifying, hilarious, creative, and full of personality all at once. Without that strange mixture, I worry that it’s slowly becoming another franchise about possessed people doing increasingly gruesome things and that feels like losing the thing that made Evil Dead special in the first place.

In the year 105105
If man is still alive
If robot can survive
They may find...

In the year 252525
The backwards time machine still won't have arrived
In all the world, there's only one technology
A rusty sword for practicing proctology

In a future year that ends with a 20
A shlubby merman's gonna try to get chummy
He may look like a watery wimp
When in fact he's a bloodthirsty shrimp

In the year 1,000,000 ½
Humankind is enslaved by giraffe
Man must pay for all his misdeeds
When the treetops are stripped of their leaves

I don’t really know how to talk about this without sounding like an ungrateful jackass, so I’m just gonna put the cards on the table. I know I’ve got it good. Damn good, actually. And if this sounds like me complaining about winning the lottery because I don’t like the color of the ticket, well…yeah. I get it. I’m an intern at a huge company in New York City, working in my dream field. That’s the kind of sentence you’re supposed to say while angels sing and somebody hands you a cigar. But here’s the thing: I never planned on staying with this company forever.

I came here for experience. Connections. Resume candy. I wanted to get my hands dirty, prove I could actually do the work, slap a big recognizable name on the résumé, and eventually ride off into the sunset toward whatever came next. Simple plan. Naturally, life took one look at that and said, “Cute.” I ended up under investigation for misconduct over allegations that were false. I cooperated completely. Cards on the table, nothing hidden up my sleeve. But when this whole circus started, they made something very clear: if the allegations were true, I was gone. Fired. No reference. Thanks for playing, there’s the door. That pissed me off. So while I was angry, I told a few people that I didn’t care how the investigation ended I was going home when this internship was over. Apparently one of those people, a team coordinator, passed that little nugget along, because suddenly people started making something else very clear: They really don’t want me to leave.

And I don’t mean the usual corporate “you’re such a valued member of the team” routine where everybody smiles, shakes hands, and forgets your name before the elevator reaches the lobby. Apparently, somewhere along the way, I actually became important around here. Yesterday, I finally got the verdict. Cleared. Good. Groovy. Fantastic. Roll credits. Except the big man asked me to stay behind afterward for a one on one.

He told me again that I’d become invaluable to the team. He made it clear that this investigation wouldn’t hurt my chances of coming back full time. And while he never outright said, “Kid, I heard you’re planning to get the hell out of Dodge,” he might as well have had it printed on a billboard. Then he gave me some advice. Basically: I do good work. I have opportunities here. Don’t make a decision about my entire future because of how I felt during one shitty moment. And don’t be bullheaded just because I already told people what I was going to do. Which is irritating advice for one very specific reason: He might be right. So I called home.

My parents want me back. And I understand why. But I also know they’re talking a little less from their heads and a little more from their hearts especially my dad. My brother and sister? They agree with the big man. My grandpa? Team Big Man. And then there’s me. The schmuck actually holding the cards.

Because part of me still wants to go home. That was the plan. Home is home. My family is there. There are things about my life there that no job title or fancy company in New York can replace. But another part of me looks around and thinks, “You idiot. Do you have any idea what you’ve got here?” I’m in my dream field. At a major company. I apparently managed to make myself valuable enough that people above me are going out of their way to tell me not to rush out the door. They’re talking about a future here.

People spend years trying to get somebody to crack open a door like that. Mine is standing wide open. So now I’ve got to figure out whether walking through it would be taking advantage of an incredible opportunity…or walking farther down a road I never actually wanted to stay on. And I think that’s the part screwing with me. Because I feel guilty even having the dilemma. I’ve been blessed in this life. Seriously. I know that. Plenty of people would kill to have this problem. Here I am bitching because I’ve apparently been dealt too many good cards. Boo-freaking-hoo, right?

Except when it’s your future sitting in the pot, suddenly those cards get pretty damn heavy. That’s what this feels like. Like I’m sitting at some cosmic poker table and somebody pushed all my chips into the middle before bothering to explain the rules. On one side, I’ve got New York: the company, the career, the connections, the experience, and a bunch of people telling me I’m good at something I actually give a damn about. That’s a hell of a hand. On the other side, I’ve got home: my family, the people I love, familiarity, freedom, and the possibility of building a life somewhere because I chose it not because opportunity happened to grab me by the collar and drag me there. Also a hell of a hand.

And for a while, I think I’ve been looking at this like whichever hand I don’t play gets tossed into the furnace forever. Stay, and I lose home. Go home, and I throw away the career. Pick your poison, dummy. But maybe that’s not actually how the game works. Maybe I’m not deciding which hand I play for the rest of my life. Maybe I’m just deciding which hand I play next. I can stay. Take the job if they offer it. Learn everything I can. Make some money. Build a reputation. See what happens. And if a year from now I look around and realize New York isn’t where I belong? Fine. Cash out. Go home.

Likewise, I could leave now, go home, and discover there’s another table waiting for me there. There are no guarantees either way. That’s the bitch of it. Everybody around the table can tell me what they think I should do. My parents can tell me to fold. My siblings can tell me to raise. My grandpa can tell me I’d be nuts to walk away. The big man can tell me I’ve got a future sitting right in front of me. But none of them can play the hand. That part’s mine. So maybe I need to quit asking myself which choice guarantees that I win. There isn’t one. Maybe the question is just: Which hand do I want to play next?

Then I put my chips down, live with the call, and see what the dealer throws at me. Because apparently adulthood is just gambling with your future while everybody standing behind you insists they know what’s in the deck. Groovy.

I don't really know how to tell this story, but here goes. About a year ago, I met someone on Instagram. We've known each other for a little over a year now, and for most of that time we talked almost every day. But lately, something feels different. I'm not oblivious, and I don't think I'm imagining it. It feels like the spark that made our friendship enjoyable has faded.

Now it feels... mechanical. Like we're both going through the motions out of habit rather than because we genuinely enjoy talking to each other. Most of our conversations have been replaced by sending each other random Instagram reels, and that's about it. It doesn't really feel like we're connecting anymore.

What confused me even more was what happened yesterday. She didn't send me a single message all day. Then today, she restarted our Instagram streak and apologized for letting it expire. But... why? If we barely talk anymore, why does the streak even matter? It almost feels like we're putting more effort into maintaining the appearance of a friendship than actually having one.

Maybe I'm overthinking it, but the whole situation just feels strange. Has anyone else experienced something like this? Am I reading too much into it, or does it sound like this friendship has naturally run its course?

I don't really know how to tell this story, but here goes. About a year ago, I met someone on Instagram. We've known each other for a little over a year now, and for most of that time we talked almost every day. But lately, something feels different. I'm not oblivious, and I don't think I'm imagining it. It feels like the spark that made our friendship enjoyable has faded.

Now it feels... mechanical. Like we're both going through the motions out of habit rather than because we genuinely enjoy talking to each other. Most of our conversations have been replaced by sending each other random Instagram reels, and that's about it. It doesn't really feel like we're connecting anymore.

What confused me even more was what happened yesterday. She didn't send me a single message all day. Then today, she restarted our Instagram streak and apologized for letting it expire. But... why? If we barely talk anymore, why does the streak even matter? It almost feels like we're putting more effort into maintaining the appearance of a friendship than actually having one.

Maybe I'm overthinking it, but the whole situation just feels strange. Has anyone else experienced something like this? Am I reading too much into it, or does it sound like this friendship has naturally run its course?

I'm not going to lie Dead Money is my absolute favorite Fallout story. I love its themes, its atmosphere, and the ideas it explores. To me, it's as close to perfect as Fallout has ever gotten. That's why I wasn't a fan of seeing Frederick Sinclair in the show as a Big MT executive helping plan the end of the world (at least before that boardroom scene was effectively retconned). It felt completely at odds with the man we meet in Dead Money.

The game's Sinclair isn't some power-hungry corporate mastermind. He's a gullible, genuinely kind hearted man who spends his life being taken advantage of by the people he trusts most. Dean Domino manipulates him. Vera unknowingly becomes part of his heartbreak. Mr. Yesterday exploits his optimism. Sinclair's greatest flaw isn't malice it's that he believes the best in people, even when they don't deserve it.

One of Dean Domino's lines sums Sinclair up perfectly: "Never got mad at anything. Nothing seemed to shake him. Even after his life kept getting dragged through the dirt. Always kept looking for the bright shining future in everything." That single quote tells you almost everything about who Sinclair was. Even when Sinclair finally snaps and turns the Sierra Madre into a death trap, he isn't motivated by cruelty. He's a broken man acting out of betrayal. And in the end, he regrets it. He dies trying to undo the nightmare he created, which makes his story all the more tragic. He's not a villain he's a fundamentally good person whose hope was slowly crushed until there was nothing left.

Because of that, I've come up with a headcanon that helps reconcile the show with the game. I like to imagine that the Frederick Sinclair we see in the show is actually the father of the Frederick Sinclair from Dead Money. The elder Sinclair was the influential Big MT executive, which would explain how Sinclair was able to secure Big MT's technology for the Sierra Madre project. But instead of supporting his son, he looked down on him and intentionally saddled the project with unreliable, unfinished, or defective equipment.

I actually think that makes the younger Sinclair's story even more tragic. Not only was he betrayed by his friends, but he was never truly supported by his own father either. The Sierra Madre was meant to be his dream a monument to hope, love, and a brighter future but the people closest to him, from his business partners to his family, ensured that dream would ultimately collapse. To me, that interpretation preserves the compassionate, optimistic Sinclair from Dead Money while giving the show's version a place in the timeline without undermining the character I fell in love with.

I'm not going to lie Dead Money is my absolute favorite Fallout story. I love its themes, its atmosphere, and the ideas it explores. To me, it's as close to perfect as Fallout has ever gotten. That's why I wasn't a fan of seeing Frederick Sinclair in the show as a Big MT executive helping plan the end of the world (at least before that boardroom scene was effectively retconned). It felt completely at odds with the man we meet in Dead Money.

The game's Sinclair isn't some power-hungry corporate mastermind. He's a gullible, genuinely kind hearted man who spends his life being taken advantage of by the people he trusts most. Dean Domino manipulates him. Vera unknowingly becomes part of his heartbreak. Mr. Yesterday exploits his optimism. Sinclair's greatest flaw isn't malice it's that he believes the best in people, even when they don't deserve it.

One of Dean Domino's lines sums Sinclair up perfectly: "Never got mad at anything. Nothing seemed to shake him. Even after his life kept getting dragged through the dirt. Always kept looking for the bright shining future in everything." That single quote tells you almost everything about who Sinclair was. Even when Sinclair finally snaps and turns the Sierra Madre into a death trap, he isn't motivated by cruelty. He's a broken man acting out of betrayal. And in the end, he regrets it. He dies trying to undo the nightmare he created, which makes his story all the more tragic. He's not a villain he's a fundamentally good person whose hope was slowly crushed until there was nothing left.

Because of that, I've come up with a headcanon that helps reconcile the show with the game. I like to imagine that the Frederick Sinclair we see in the show is actually the father of the Frederick Sinclair from Dead Money. The elder Sinclair was the influential Big MT executive, which would explain how Sinclair was able to secure Big MT's technology for the Sierra Madre project. But instead of supporting his son, he looked down on him and intentionally saddled the project with unreliable, unfinished, or defective equipment.

I actually think that makes the younger Sinclair's story even more tragic. Not only was he betrayed by his friends, but he was never truly supported by his own father either. The Sierra Madre was meant to be his dream a monument to hope, love, and a brighter future but the people closest to him, from his business partners to his family, ensured that dream would ultimately collapse. To me, that interpretation preserves the compassionate, optimistic Sinclair from Dead Money while giving the show's version a place in the timeline without undermining the character I fell in love with.

I posted earlier about a girl who's been hitting me, and a lot of people told me that she probably likes me. The problem is that I've realized I have a complicated relationship with both attraction and receiving attention from women.

The reason I included a photo of myself at 18 compared to now was to give some context. When I was 18, I weighed around 400 pounds. I'm 21 now and weigh 217 pounds, so I've lost 183 pounds. Growing up, especially in high school, I didn't get much attention from women at all. Now it's almost the complete opposite, and honestly, it's overwhelming. It's a huge adjustment that I don't think I've fully processed.

Part of the confusion is that attraction doesn't work for me the way it seems to for a lot of people. Physical appearance matters to some extent, but it's never been the deciding factor. I'm a huge nerd I love comic books, RPGs, collecting action figures, making comic book content on TikTok, watching animated series, and putting together cosplays. As I've gotten healthier, cosplay has become even more enjoyable. When I think about dating someone, I'm usually more interested in whether we share those passions than whether I find them conventionally attractive.

Another thing that makes this more complicated is that I have my own preferences when it comes to physical attraction. In general, I'm more attracted to Black, Asian, Latina, and Middle Eastern women. That doesn't mean I'd never date a white woman if we genuinely connected and shared interests, I'd absolutely be open to it. For me, compatibility has always mattered more than fitting a specific type.

What really bothers me isn't having preferences everyone has those. It's that I feel like I don't understand romance the way other people seem to. After years of getting almost no attention, suddenly receiving a lot of it has left me unsure how to interpret people's intentions or how to respond. I sometimes wonder if there's something wrong with me because I don't experience attraction the way other people describe it.

I'm trying to figure out the difference between appreciating someone's interest in me, actually being attracted to them, and wanting a genuine relationship. Those things don't automatically line up in my mind, and that disconnect makes dating feel confusing. I don't think I'm broken, but I do think I'm still learning what attraction, romance, and love actually mean to me after spending so many years believing they were things I'd never have to think about.

favorite: The Martian or Wonder Woman

Least favorite: Trickster

So I have this professor who's kind of an asshole. Today he called on me to explain the Hegelian dialectic, and I swear he expected me to completely eat it. Unfortunately for him, my brain immediately pulled up the one lecture I never thought would be useful in real life: Caesar from Fallout: New Vegas.

So I hit him with Caesar's entire explanation of Hegelian dialectics almost word for word. Thank God for that ridiculous art project I did on New Vegas, because apparently it permanently engraved that monologue into my skull.

To make it even better, I started with, "How do I put this simply enough..." just like Caesar does. Then I dropped, "The Colorado is my Rubicon," and explained how the NCR represents the thesis, the Legion the antithesis, and that conflict inevitably produces a synthesis.

My professor went through all five stages of grief in about thirty seconds. First he looked annoyed. Then impressed. Then deeply confused. Then he started asking where I'd learned all this. By the end of class, this 78 year old man is apparently looking into Fallout: New Vegas because, as much as he hated it, I was actually right. So now I'm faced with the greatest moral dilemma of my life. I think I finally owe Caesar and the Legion a full playthrough.

Ave, true to Caesar.

So, I don't really know how to talk about this because it feels incredibly weird, but here goes. I think I've developed a form of limerence for a woman I've never actually met in person. We've known each other online for a long time, and eventually I accepted an internship in the city where she lives. To be clear, I didn't move there to meet her or try to pursue her that would've crossed a line, and I was very aware of that.

For a long time, I didn't tell her how I felt because I didn't want to make things uncomfortable or put any pressure on her. Eventually, though, I decided honesty was better than pretending nothing was going on, so I told her.

Her response has left me really confused. At first, it almost felt like she ghosted me, but not completely. Instead of disappearing, she kept reaching out usually sending me at least one message or interesting thing every single day. That's been going on for well over eight months now.

I even told her that if my feelings made things awkward, I'd back away and stop contacting her. Instead, she told me she wanted to keep talking. Our conversations aren't nearly as deep or frequent as they used to be, but she still shares interesting facts about herself, sends me things she finds cool, and chats with me regularly.

The part that confuses me is that I have no idea what she actually thinks of me. I don't know if she sees me as just an online friend, if she enjoys talking to me but wants clear boundaries, or if she's simply being kind. I know my feelings can distort how I interpret things that's part of what limerence is but her continued effort to stay in contact makes it hard for me to understand what's really going on.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm confused. I don't know how to interpret the situation, and I don't know whether what I'm experiencing is just limerence filling in the blanks or whether there's something more complicated happening between us.

TL;DR: I think I've developed limerence for a woman I've only known online. Eventually, I took an internship in her city (not to pursue her). Instead of cutting contact, she said she wanted to keep talking. Since then, she's continued messaging me every day for over eight months, although our conversations aren't as deep as they used to be. I know limerence can distort my perspective, so I'm struggling to figure out whether she's simply being a good friend or if I'm reading too much into her continued effort to stay in touch.

So, I don't really know how to talk about this because it feels incredibly weird, but here goes. I think I've developed a form of limerence for a woman I've never actually met in person. We've known each other online for a long time, and eventually I accepted an internship in the city where she lives. To be clear, I didn't move there to meet her or try to pursue her that would've crossed a line, and I was very aware of that.

For a long time, I didn't tell her how I felt because I didn't want to make things uncomfortable or put any pressure on her. Eventually, though, I decided honesty was better than pretending nothing was going on, so I told her.

Her response has left me really confused. At first, it almost felt like she ghosted me, but not completely. Instead of disappearing, she kept reaching out usually sending me at least one message or interesting thing every single day. That's been going on for well over eight months now.

I even told her that if my feelings made things awkward, I'd back away and stop contacting her. Instead, she told me she wanted to keep talking. Our conversations aren't nearly as deep or frequent as they used to be, but she still shares interesting facts about herself, sends me things she finds cool, and chats with me regularly.

The part that confuses me is that I have no idea what she actually thinks of me. I don't know if she sees me as just an online friend, if she enjoys talking to me but wants clear boundaries, or if she's simply being kind. I know my feelings can distort how I interpret things that's part of what limerence is but her continued effort to stay in contact makes it hard for me to understand what's really going on.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm confused. I don't know how to interpret the situation, and I don't know whether what I'm experiencing is just limerence filling in the blanks or whether there's something more complicated happening between us.

I'm almost 22, and I've never been in a serious relationship. The older I get, the more I catch myself wondering if it's ever going to happen for me. Sometimes I convince myself that I'm just too weird or too awkward for anyone to genuinely want.

The thing is, I know who I am. I'm a huge comic book nerd, I love RPGs, and photography is one of my biggest passions. I've also worked incredibly hard to change my life I lost 183 pounds, going from 400 to 217. That's something I'm proud of, even if I don't always let myself feel it.

But despite all of that, I still struggle with the feeling that none of it is enough. I worry that my interests make me too different, that my awkwardness outweighs everything else, and that no one will ever see me as someone they could love. Logically, I know people with the same hobbies and quirks find meaningful relationships every day, but emotionally it's hard to believe that could be true for me.

I mean, what do you think is really going on with Cassandra Cain? It seems like she was raised by Lady Shiva, but at the same time it's pretty clear she's also the perfect weapon David wanted to create. That makes me wonder if there's more to her backstory than we've seen so far. Was she always part of David's plan, or did Lady Shiva take her for her own reasons? I guess that's what I'm really asking: what do you think is actually going on with Cassandra Cain?

Goodbye. This was fun while it lasted, but it's time to end this. Goodbye, my friend.

I wasn't used for sex or anything like that I was used emotionally. Looking back, I can see that I was being manipulated, but I finally realized it when she accidentally sent me a message that wasn't meant for me. In it, she admitted she was keeping me on the hook just so she'd always have a guy to talk to.

I think part of me always knew, but I kept convincing myself I was overthinking it. Seeing those words in black and white made it impossible to lie to myself anymore. It hurt in a way I wasn't prepared for. It made me feel disposable, like I was never really a person to her just someone who was convenient when she felt lonely.

The worst part is that, despite everything, a part of me still wants her in my life. I still want her to be my friend, and I hate that I feel that way after knowing what I know. I don't know if that's because I genuinely care about her or because I'm so desperate to hold onto something familiar. Either way, it makes moving on feel impossible.

I'm depressed as fuck right now, and this just feels like the thing that finally broke me. My job has been draining me, my new roommates suck, and I don't feel like I have a place where I can actually breathe. Every day feels like I'm dragging myself through it, pretending I'm okay when I'm really not.

Honestly, I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of bursting into tears. I miss feeling safe. I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere. More than anything, I just want to go back home, because right now everything feels too heavy, and I don't know how much more of it I can carry.