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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

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Not the Type: 1/7

Here it is, my contribution to the @captainswanmoviemarathon ! Aka, the Bring it On AU no one asked for. I have a love/hate relationship with this movie. On the one hand, I love it as a rom com. On the other hand, as a sports movie, it’s awful. I was a cheerleader myself, and did a brief stint coaching, so I have some issues with this movie. First of all, where is the coach?!? Can you imagine a male driven sports movie without a coach? Remember the Titans with no coach? Glory Road with no coach? Miracle with no coach? I mean, come on! And do you really think a high school is gonna let their students do stunts that can potentially cause paralysis or death without adult supervision? And while they do portray the cheerleaders as athletes, in my opinion, they still hyper-sexualize them. The girls are also way too catty with each other. I can tell you from personal experience, that you need massive trust to do those stunts. Just sayin. Anyway, this whole soap box is to say that this is a LOOSE adaptation of Bring it On written by someone who loves the sport it portrays. But don’t worry, this modern day Lieutenant Duckling AU will have plenty of fluff, feels, flirty banter, and epic kisses. I would like to say this is the cheerleading version of @welllpthisishappening ‘s Blue Line universe, but I don’t pretend to be that brilliant. Laura’s writing did inspire me as I wrote this “sports fic,” however, so massive props to her: the queen of sports writing!

Massive thanks to the mods of the Captain Swan Movie Marathon event as well as all of the other writers. The discord chats have been a blast - especially when you all helped me brainstorm a title for this. Thanks to @hookedonapirate for being an awesome beta and to @rumdrum91 for giving the first chapter a quick once over even while you are insanely busy.

This fic is about . . . 85% complete? It will be updated every Saturday. I’ll shut up now and get to the point . . .

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she's not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn't ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that's actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @spartanguard @itsfabianadocarmo

Bounce left, bounce right. Two hip shakes. Roger rabbit, Roger Rabbit. Bobby Brown, Bobby Brown. Cabbage patch. Electric slide. Repeat.

Emma repeated the steps to the dance like a mantra in her head. A cheerleader was supposed to smile all the time, but she couldn’t conjure one up as she bounced through the choreography that dated back to 1989. Okay, maybe they threw in the cabbage patch in 1994, but still. This shit was old.

The band sped up as they played through another round of “Louie, Louie,” and the cheerleading squad was racing through the dance like a tape on fast forward. The band thought it was hilarious and never ceased to tire of the schtick.

Emma was doing what felt like her hundredth Roger Rabbit when she caught sight of him. A large book half covered his face, so she could still see his arched brow and smirk. She held his gaze as she went into her Bobby Browns, and he lowered his book, still staring openly, a crooked grin filling his face. Was he mocking her? She stared him down as she did the cabbage patch, and his eyes widened. She tilted her chin as she went into the electric slide, and his tongue swiped his lips.

“Louie, Louie” finally, mercifully, ended. Emma whipped her ponytail as she broke the guy’s stare. She bounced up and down, waving her pom poms and shouting “Go Knights!” Mary Margaret had finally gotten her to stop rolling her eyes.

“Well look at you, Emma Swan,” Ruby said as they all turned to watch the game and cheer the offense.

“What?” Emma stood at attention, just like all the other girls, her poms on her hips.

“Don’t play dumb, Emma,” Ashley quipped on her other side. “We’re better at it than you.”

“That guy,” Ruby explained. “You were having cheer sex with him.”

“Cheer sex? Seriously?”

Emma tossed her poms down to the ground and tightened her ponytail angrily. She hated football season.

🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Emma whirled around to find herself face to face with the guy she was definitely not having cheer sex with. Whatever the hell that was. She rolled her eyes. Mary Margaret couldn’t do anything about it during half time.

“Just because I’m baring my midriff and my skirt barely covers my hips doesn’t give you permission to ogle me.”

His blue eyes widened. Very blue, actually. No! It didn’t matter if his eyes were pretty; he was a creep.

“You misunderstand me, love.”

“Not your love.” Though he did have a hot accent. What? No! Nothing about him was hot.

He sighed. “Look, I couldn’t help watching you. All the other girls had fake smiles, but you . . . “ he shrugged. “You looked like you hated being here as much as I do.”

Emma blinked in surprise, and her gaze darted to the hardback copy of The Two Towers clutched in his hand. She also took in his slightly disheveled hair, slender build, and Pink Floyd t-shirt. Clearly not the football type.

The students in line behind them for the concession stand grumbled for them to move, so they both shuffled forward.

Emma smiled apologetically and extended her hand. “Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones.”

“So, what are doing here, hipster?”

He chuckled and ducked his head. He looked a lot more bashful than he had in the stands.

“Granny insisted I put down my guitar, stop singing depressing songs, and get my ass here to support my foster siblings. Her words exactly.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You’re Ruby’s new foster brother!”

He leaned closer and winked. “Guilty as charged.”

******************************************************

“Cheer sex, Ruby!” Emma snapped as she returned from the concession stand with her bottle of water and bag of pretzels. She lifted the items up on auto-pilot for Coach Ava’s approval, which she received. The Coach insisted on healthy snacks during games and practice. Some of the girls chafed at the rule, but Emma had no problem with it. The last thing she wanted was someone hurling from the top of a pyramid because they had just wolfed down chili cheese fries or something.

“What?” Ruby asked before taking a bite of the apple in her hand.

“Cheer sex,” Emma repeated, “with your foster brother? Ew!”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she chewed and swallowed. “Let me emphasize the foster part. If you wanna bang Killian, I won’t stop you.”

Emma let out a groan of frustration as several of the other girls giggled. “I’m not banging anyone.”

“Exactly! And why is that, Emma?”

“Leave her alone,” Mary Margaret admonished. “Just banging someone isn’t what she needs.”

Emma appreciated Mary Margaret’s positivity - usually - but she wasn’t in the mood for another speech on true love. “I’d actually prefer a complete change of topic.”

“Good,” the girls jumped at the sound of Coach Ava’s voice behind them, “because you only have five minutes left of half time to finish those snacks. Which is kind of hard to do when you’re yapping.”

“Okay, coach,” the girls grumbled good-naturedly. They all loved Ava, and not just because she was Mary Margaret’s mom. She really cared about all of them and was both tough and fair as a coach. Better even than some of the gymnastics coaches Emma had had. Emma had never planned on being a cheerleader, but Emma was used to things in her life not going according to plan. That was usually for the worst, but lately she had to admit it had been for the better. She hadn’t planned on being adopted by the Nolans, either, and that had been the best thing to ever happen to her. When the social worker brought her to her new foster mother, Ruth, and foster brother, David, she had fully expected it to be nothing more than yet another brief stay. She hadn’t expected to be loved.

She hadn’t expected to love in return.

Emma tossed her empty pretzel bag into the trash can near the stadium stairs. She took another swig of her water, then tossed the bottle into her cheer bag that was monogrammed with her name and a megaphone. It was cheesy and matched the bags of all the other girls.

She hadn’t expected to like this group of girls, either. Hadn’t expected to find a group of athletes, but she did. Yes, since age thirteen, life had been surprising her rather than throwing her curveballs. Maybe thirteen was actually her lucky number. Now she was seventeen and had an actual family in addition to fifteen sisters.

With pom poms.

🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈

Emma crammed her first and second period books into her locker, grabbed the stuff she needed for third, then slammed the door shut. She took off down the hall at almost a sprint. TV and movies were shit in portraying high school. Kids hanging out by their lockers chatting at any and all times of the day. Complete and utter lies. Storybrooke High gave kids five minutes - five minutes! - to get to each class. There were some breaks where she didn’t have time to stop at her locker, but her American History book weighed about three tons and she refused to lug it around all day. She didn’t care if it was completely out of her way. She was chucking that book, damn it, before she threw her back out. Three weeks into the year, and she had it timed down to the second.

She did not have time to be slammed into and knocked to her rear end. “Hey!” she shouted at the jerk who’d plowed into her.

A hand reached down and hauled her to her feet. “Apologies lass.”

She knew that accent before she looked into those blue eyes. She suddenly realized she was still clutching Killian’s hand in hers. She yanked her hand away.

“Yeah, well watch where you’re going next time.”

He grinned in a way that was three-fourths charming and one-fourth roguish. “A pleasure as always, Swan.”

Then the ridiculous boy bowed over her hand and kissed it! She rolled her eyes. He arched his brow.

“Advanced Trigonometry?”

He was offering her a pad of graph paper that had her homework scrawled all over it. She snatched it from him and stuffed it into her bag. It was then she realized the zipper was broken. Great. Just great.

“Why are you so interested in my class schedule?”

He shrugged as he rocked back on his heels. “I’m impressed is all.”

She lifted one shoulder, then dropped it as she attempted to balance her busted backpack in both arms. “My mom insisted on one advanced course this year, and math’s the one subject I don’t suck at.”

He tilted his head. “Intriguing.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Because you assume cheerleaders are moronic sluts?” The bell rang, and she dropped her head back with a groan. “Great! Now you’ve made me late.”

She shouldered past him, and her hackles raised when she heard his low chuckle. He laid a hand on her arm before she could move away and lowered his head to her ear.

“Most guys would find your attitude off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

“Sure you do,” she muttered as she stalked away.

At practice that afternoon, she was informing Ruby that her brother was an absolute pain in the ass.

#cs ff #cs movie marathon #captain swan movie marathon #cs bring it on au #high school au #lieutenant duckling

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bittysvalentines · 4 years

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Going for Gold

To @allmylittleflaws

From @effyeahzimbits

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dex/Nursey

“Will you fucking quit typing? I’m trying to sleep here.”

Nursey glanced up from the white glare of his laptop screen. The plane was mostly in darkness, but he could see his teammate’s golden eyes glaring at him from across the aisle. They were surrounded by the soft snores of other members of the United States Men’s Hockey team, and none of them had been disturbed by the clacking of Nursey’s plastic keys. He was pretty sure Poindexter just had it in for him.

Nursey couldn’t blame him. Ever since that match a few months ago where the Rangers played the Islanders, the budding rivalry between the two teams exploded to new heights, and Poindexter seemed to carry that grudge off the ice too. Nursey still wasn’t entirely sure what had kicked it off - something about the Rangers’ goalie and a wayward puck sent by an Islander’s D-man. Either way, a fight of epic proportions ensued, resulting in both teams nearly sacrificing their entire benches to the sin bin.

Nursey had been on the other side of the rink at the time, but he soon pelted over to defend his goalie. He’d only gotten halfway when he was suddenly tackled by Poindexter and sent colliding with the ice. It was a defensive tactic used to keep the pair of them out of the scuffle, but it was enough to raise Nursey’s hackles. He only managed to throw a couple of haphazard punches to Poindexter’s face before he was being dragged away by an official and that was that.

Or so Nursey had thought. Fans of both teams expressed their delight at the spectacle all over social media, and it wasn’t long before videos of the match went viral. ESPN highlighted his little brawl with Poindexter, and before Nursey knew it, his Twitter account blew up with notifications. False stories about some feud between the two of them spread like wildfire across the Internet, even though Nursey had never even said two words to the guy. Still, it felt harmless enough to Nursey, and he even joined in on the fun a little, pinging a few chirpy tweets Poindexter’s way. The other D-man didn’t seem to appreciate it though, even going so far as to tell one reporter brave enough to ask about it that Nursey needed to “grow the fuck up and start playing decent hockey.”

Nursey took offence at that. He took pride in his game and loved playing for the Rangers. However, he was strongly urged by PR to refrain from retaliating and the spat was left as it was. The two teams weren’t due to meet for another month or two, but that was the least of Nursey’s concerns. Not long after the fight he’d received confirmation that he had been chosen to play for the United States in the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing. He’d been ecstatic, that was, until he saw the name of another defenceman on that list. William Poindexter.

He’d tried not to worry about it too much. That was easier said than done though when practice sessions finally rolled around. It was a tight team, containing top players from all over the country and captained by none other than Kent fucking Parson, and Nursey was honoured to be a part of it. But working with Poindexter was tough. There was none of the smoothness Nursey had with his defence partner at the Rangers. Poindexter seemed to play by his own agenda, working against Nursey rather than with him. No words were spoken between them, but Nursey could see the contempt in his partner’s eyes every time they passed each other. If nothing else, it at least brought out Nursey’s competitive streak and made him play harder. And they must have been doing something right, because the Coach had placed them on the starting line together.

And now came a couple of weeks of hardcore hockey with the possibility of medals resting on his broad shoulders. He was excited, genuinely over the moon crazy kind of excited. But he was also worried. He didn’t want this weird spat to affect his game, and he also didn’t want people to make out it was worse than it actually was. He never had anything against Poindexter before all of this kicked off, but if he wanted to cause trouble while they were out here representing their country, then Nursey wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen. But for now, he was going to keep his head down and play good hockey.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured in response to Poindexter’s snapped words. “I never can on planes.”

“So do something else. I can’t sleep with that racket in my ear,” Poindexter argued, nodding towards the laptop.

“Put earphones in then or something,” Nursey suggested. He couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. Poindexter’s tone was starting to get his back up.

“What are you even writing?” Poindexter demanded, leaning in his plush seat to try and get a glimpse of Nursey’s screen.

Nursey glowered and tilted it away from him, instantly on the defensive.

“None of your fucking business.”

“Are you writing poetry?” Poindexter asked in what definitely sounded like a sneer.

“I said it’s none of your fucking business!” Nursey snapped, slamming the laptop lid down harder than he meant to.

“Hey!” A voice thick with sleep called over from a few rows away. “Both of you cut it out or I’ll have you run burpees ‘til you puke.”

Nursey bristled. The Coach was pissed now, and it was all because Poindexter was too precious to try and sleep with a bit of noise. Nursey clenched his jaw and physically turned away from the other defenceman. If he had to look at his stupid freckly face any longer, he’d punch it. He folded his arms in a huff and glared out of the window instead. There wasn’t much to see except expanses of thick, fluffy dark clouds but he concentrated hard on them, counting the rare glimmers of stars that glinted through. Thankfully, he managed to fall asleep.

He didn’t know how, but he was signed up to share a room with Kent Parson. He’d met the guy once at a benefit before practices started, and other than a suave “hey how’re you doing?” (to which Nursey blushed and stammered over his words like a dork), they hadn’t spoken. At practice Nursey could say with confidence that Parson was a solid captain. He took initiative, looked out for his team members on the ice and got shit done. But off the ice and in a dorm room in the Olympic village? Nursey didn’t know what to expect.

“Hey. You wanna see pictures of my cat?”

Okay, so it wasn’t that. But hell fucking yes Nursey wanted to see pictures of Kent Parson’s cat. He huddled next to Parson on his squeaky, scratchy mattress and peered over his shoulder at his Instagram. The cat was a huge fluffball of a thing with massive green eyes and a sparkly collar. If it was pink it would probably look like candyfloss with ears. Nursey wasn’t usually a cat person, but he thought he’d make exceptions for that one.

Parson didn’t stick around long. After ten minutes of cooing over the cat pictures, he announced he was meeting a friend and sauntered off, the epitome of cool carelessness. Even the way his hair flopped seemed effortlessly nonchalant. Nursey thought he had wandered off in the direction of the Canadian athletes’ dorm, but he couldn’t be sure. As long as Parson was back before the game tomorrow, it really wasn’t any of his business.

The dorm room seemed depressingly empty after that. It wasn’t very inviting to begin with, and after half an hour the dull, beige walls and stark sheets were suffocating. He shoved his boots back on and stowed his laptop under his arm, hoping there would be somewhere with a decent Wi-Fi signal and a good cup of coffee he could hang out at until team dinner. Most of the guys on his team had announced plans to nap, and Nursey didn’t want to disturb them in the hopes of finding a companion. In the immortal words of his Rangers captain – never wake a sleeping hockey player.

The Village was huge. He wandered past buildings that all looked the same, half following the multi-lingual signs and half following other athletes. It was an icy February, and he was grateful for the thick, padded duffel coats they’d been provided with. He hoped they could keep all the clothes they’d been given. It was pretty awesome wandering around with “Team USA” embroidered on everything. His mom was keeping a scrapbook too and he knew she’d love the Team USA dressing robe folded up on his bed.

He turned a corner and halted in his tracks at the sight of the recreation centre domineering the horizon. Banners adorning its walls boasted a theatre and a cinema, plus sports halls and exercise facilities and even a spa. Making a mental note to check that out after dinner, he went on the hunt for coffee and Wi-Fi. It was like a maze inside. He bypassed the McDonalds and instead headed for the official athletes’ cafeteria.

It was already bustling with people, all of them prattling loudly over the sound of scraping chairs and clattering dishes. Nursey had to take a minute to absorb it all and stop himself from getting overwhelmed. Breathing in check, he strode into the crowd. He emerged clutching the biggest takeaway mug of coffee he could find and a slice of cake the nutritionist definitely wouldn’t have agreed with. It was a bit harder to find a table, but eventually he located an empty one in a quieter corner of the room.

He people watched and nibbled his cake while he waited for his laptop to load up. It was incredible really, seeing the sheer amount of people gathered to play a few sports. The atmosphere was electric though. Everyone was clearly super excited to be there and play for their countries. Inspired by their enthusiasm, Nursey’s hands were soon speeding over his keyboard.

“More poetry?”

Nursey’s fingers froze. Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, he raised his eyes to see Poindexter standing in front of him, clutching his own bucket of coffee. No cake though. He was wearing the same Team USA tracksuit they’d all been issued, but Nursey couldn’t help noticing just how well it seemed to sit on Poindexter’s broad shoulders.

“Blog post, actually,” Nursey replied, fighting to keep his voice cool. Poindexter’s tone hadn’t been snippy, but Nursey was still on the defensive.

“Oh. Cool.”

Nursey lifted a well-groomed eyebrow at him. Cool? Out of all the words that could have possibly tumbled out of Poindexter’s mouth, that certainly wasn’t what he expected. He wanted to document the entire Olympics process for his online blog to accompany his Instagram and Twitter reports, but he doubted it was anything Poindexter would be interested in.

Poindexter shrugged, and if Nursey didn’t know better, he could have sworn he saw the faint tint of a blush underneath those freckles.

“I saw your Twitter. You seem to write a lot.”

Nursey blinked. Was Poindexter actually attempting to have a conversation with him? It was a bit awkward with the other defenceman hovering over the table like that, but seeing how nervous he looked was kind of cute.

“Yeah. I majored in literature at college,” Nursey replied, taking a swallow of his coffee so he could do something with his hands. He couldn’t help bragging a bit. “Had a few poems and short stories published.”

“Oh. That’s awesome,” Poindexter replied, his voice quiet but sincere. “I uh, I did computer science. A bit different.”

Nursey nodded, managing a half smile. He was still a bit freaked out. Just this morning Poindexter had been snapping at him for typing and now he was striking up a conversation, albeit a slightly awkward one. Nursey didn’t quite know what to say to that though, and there was a minute or two of weird silence until Poindexter plucked up the courage to open his mouth again.

“I wanted to apologise. For this morning. I was tired, and a bit nervous, and took it out on you. So uh, yeah. Sorry.”

Well that was a turn up for the books. Poindexter was definitely blushing now, and Nursey wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that it was a good look on him. Still, Nursey wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and if Poindexter wanted to make peace then Nursey was going to take it.

“It’s okay. It’s my fault too. I should have been a bit more considerate.” Nursey gave him another smile that was a bit more genuine this time. Poindexter seemed to grasp the mutual apology by both hands and nodded eagerly, his stiff shoulders relaxing with relief.

“Okay. Cool. No problem. Well, I’ll uh, leave you to your writing then. And I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Nursey watched him retreat, still a little bit dazed about the whole thing. He wasn’t sure what had made the guy change his mind, but he wasn’t going to question it. Maybe all Poindexter needed was a cup of coffee and a couple of hours sleep. He hoped the wary truce would extend onto the ice too, but he’d have to wait until tomorrow to find out. Their first game was against the Chinese hosts in the early afternoon, and Nursey was keen to get his skates on and win some matches.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The whole team was still exhausted from their long plane trip and exploring the Village. Nursey spent it sat next to a couple of vets who seemed to take him under their wing. He was grateful for their dogged insight and listened avidly to their stories playing for the USA over the years. He couldn’t help his eyes drifting over to Poindexter from time to time, but the man kept his head down and ate in the corner. Nursey was starting to think he was just a quiet kind of guy.

After they’d eaten the team split up again. Parson was the first to suggest hanging out at the bar, proposing they met up with a few of the Canadian and Russian team members. Nursey found it a bit weird to think he’d be playing against a couple of guys from the Rangers who just happened to be Canadian. He could easily imagine all the chirps that were going to be shared back in their home locker room in a few weeks’ time.

He declined the offer in favour of hunting for the spa he’d seen advertised. He was a sucker for a good steam room and a massage and hoped a little swim might help him sleep well. He returned to his room a couple of hours later feeling sleepy and content. Parson wasn’t back yet, but Nursey didn’t expect him to be. He stripped to his underwear and climbed into bed, flicking off the lights as he went. His hair was still damp, and he teased the curls with his fingers as he squashed a yawn and scrolled through his phone all at the same time.

He’d published his first Olympic blog post earlier that day. It had already been liked and retweeted hundreds of times by his loyal fans and his mom. Since the whole Rangers v Islanders fiasco, he’d turned off his social media notifications, but he still liked peering through the comments and mentions. Occasionally he would come across a heartfelt message or something that would make him laugh and he liked letting fans know they’d touched him in some way.

He trawled through the well wishes and memes, liking a few tweets and responding to a couple. A little banner appeared on the top of his phone to let him know WillDex96 has liked his most recent tweet. Nursey paused. Poindexter never liked his tweets. And his most recent tweet was the link to his blog post. Before his brain could even process it properly, his phone pinged with a direct message.

WillDex96 I liked the coffee too

Well, that wasn’t much of a conversation starter. Nursey had barely even mentioned the coffee in his blog, but it meant more that Poindexter had actually read it. Nursey smiled to himself and settled into his cushions a little more. He hesitated over the keys, then thought fuck it.

DerekDoesDefence Do you want to grab one together after the game tomorrow?

It was a bold move, and Nursey wasn’t sure it was the right one, especially as it seemed to take Poindexter an age to reply. Nursey just knew that he liked Poindexter’s awkward yet endearing demeanour and wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little more off the ice. His attractiveness was just an added bonus. Just when he was about to give up hope, a reply popped into his inbox.

WillDex96 Yeah okay. See you tomorrow.

DerekDoesDefence Goodnight

He didn’t get a reply, but he didn’t really expect one after that. Poindexter seemed to be a man of few words. Nursey put his phone aside and settled down, curling up and pulling the sheets around him. He couldn’t help the big, cheesy grin. It wasn’t a date, but he felt like he always did when he’d arranged one. It was probably a bit silly to even consider these things with the Olympic games right on top of them, but the thought made him giddy nonetheless. He fell asleep thinking of freckles and auburn hair and big hands.

The game was incredible. Nursey couldn’t remember the finer details, but he remembered the fanatic roar of the crowd, the bite of wind on his cheeks, the burning in his lungs and his calves as he raced across the ice. Every player in both teams seemed wired, like they had caffeine in their veins as they powered through each period. Playing with the Rangers was one thing but playing for his country set his blood on fire.

They won. It was a tight match and China played incredibly well, but USA just seemed to dominate the punk that little bit more and it made all the difference. Nursey’s team left the arena elated, cheering with the fans and rough housing as they made their way back to the Village. Most of the team headed to the recreation centre to burn off energy. Nursey followed them, feeling giddy all over again. Poindexter walked beside him, though he only greeted him with a subtle nod.

The team went their separate ways inside. A few of them headed towards the sports halls while others went to the spa for a post-game massage. Nursey watched Parson spearhead a small group into the bar where he could see a few of the Russian hockey players. Parson seemed to be friends with everyone, and Nursey didn’t know how he had the energy for it all. He and Poindexter headed towards the cafeteria, which was a lot quieter than yesterday.

They were silent as they retrieved their coffee. Nursey was pulsing with pent up excitement, but he couldn’t bring himself to string a sentence together. Poindexter had looked damn good out on the ice. His flushed, freckled cheeks and determined brow had made Nursey’s knees weak. It felt a bit weird looking him in the face now. They managed to grab a table by one of the huge windows, and it was a while before either of them found the courage to say something.

“That was a good game,” Poindexter eventually said, dragging his eyes away from the plastic tabletop and onto Nursey’s face. The half grin he managed made Nursey’s stomach churn.

It had been an awesome game, and Nursey wasn’t sure how it had happened, but something had finally clicked between them. They had worked in tandem out on the ice, analysing each other’s movements and tactics to form an unpassable duo. Their breathless teammates had slapped them both on the shoulder with each successful blockade, and the coach had been singing their praises in the locker room. The budding partnership had left Nursey as ecstatic as the win had.

“Yeah, it was. I think we finally played well together, Poindexter,” Nursey grinned at him over his cup.

“Finally,” Poindexter agreed with a snort of amusement. “And call me Dex. Anything else just sounds a bit weird.”

Nursey hid his grin behind his cup. He was probably making more of it than necessary, but the permission to call Dex by his hockey nickname just proved they’d made some progress. Fuck, Nursey wanted to kiss him. He took a big swallow of coffee instead and burned his tongue.

“You think we have a decent shot?” He asked to mask his pained grimace.

“Too early to tell,” Dex replied with half a shrug. “Especially with Canada’s line up. Zimmermann’s been on fire lately.”

Nursey hummed his agreement and licked the foam off his latte, only just avoiding making a mess. He looked up to find Dex’s eyes on him, his face bearing an odd expression. He swallowed and looked away quickly, hoping he hadn’t just made a fool of himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d humiliated himself in front of a pretty boy. He scrambled for something to say.

“You read my blog,” he said after a moment, figuring that was a safe enough topic.

“Oh. Yeah. It was fun to read. I wanted to make sure you were telling the truth about everything,” Dex grinned.

Nursey blinked. Was Dex…flirting with him? Or was it just a chirp? Though he’d once heard somewhere that flirting and chirping were just variants of the same thing.

“Um. Yep. Total truth,” Nursey replied eloquently. “No lies here.”

Fuck, he was such a dork. It made Dex snicker though, and he counted that as a win.

“I uh, I ended up going through your stuff,” Dex admitted, his eyes flitting away to a poster announcing the daily specials. “I really liked it. Especially the articles you did for your college magazine.”

Nursey lifted an eyebrow at him and tilted his head slightly in confusion.

“Those are all about bi erasure and hetero bullshit in the locker room,” he said slowly. To his surprise, Dex blushed so hard even his ears went red.

“Um, yep. They uh, really resonated with me. Especially the…especially the bits on internalised homophobia.”

Oh.

Nursey wasn’t quite sure how he managed to keep his mouth shut and his face straight. It wasn’t quite an admission, but it was as good as. Following Jack Zimmermann’s epic reveal of his sexuality after the Providence Falconers’ Stanley Cup win three years ago, only a few other NHL players had been forthcoming with their own. Parson had been one of them, and Nursey had been open regarding his as soon as he was signed with the Rangers last year. Things weren’t perfect, far from it, but the sport had been making progress and that was good enough for him. He could understand Dex’s reasons for being tight-lipped though, and he took a minute to think of something that would affirm everything without being too direct, for Dex’s sake.

“Well I’m glad they helped some people. That’s what I wanted, you know? To help bring a little peace and support.”

Dex nodded and a silence fell between them again. Oddly enough it wasn’t awkward, and Nursey allowed his tentative friend the time to process it. He wondered if he should ask if Dex wanted to talk about it. It sounded like he had a couple of issues that caused a little friction and Nursey hoped he could shed light on a few things. Before he could open his mouth though, Dex looked up and caught his eyes.

The look Dex gave him made Nursey’s heart leap into his throat. There was a spark of something between them that wasn’t there before, a spark that made the hair on Nursey’s forearms stand on end. He swallowed slowly, his mouth suddenly dry. He wanted to do more than kiss him. For a long, agonising moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Nursey threw caution to the wind.

“Do you…want to come back to my room?”

Dex nodded so fast his neck creaked. Nursey’s face split into a huge grin, the arousal already pooling in his gut. He shot to his feet in an instant, knocking his coffee cup flying. The lukewarm liquid splattered the table and both their clothes like watery paint.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Nurse.”

Dex’s laugh was quiet but carefree and obviously entertained. He threw a wad of paper napkins over the puddle and left it at that, leading the way towards the dorms. Nursey scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping up over his own feet. He ached to grab his hand as they powerwalked out of the centre, but he held himself back. They bumped shoulders along the way and the heat from that alone tented Nursey’s loose tracksuit pants.

The sex was mind-blowing. It was messy and hot and frenzied and had Nursey howling like an animal. Dex was an attentive lover, his mouth and fingers desperate to explore every inch of him. Nursey learned more about Dex in those couple of hours than he had in the few days they’d known each other. It left him wanting to know more, wanting to know everything. They lay curled up in bed together afterwards, flushed, breathless and blinking away stars. Nursey was suddenly very grateful they both lived in New York. It made the possibility of finding out just what made William Poindexter tick all the more enticing.

“I think I’ll write a poem about this,” he announced, his voice loud in the thick, sex-laden air.

Dex smacked him with a pillow.

#bv2020 #bitty's valentines #dexnursey #omg check please!

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thirteen-beaxhes · 5 years

Text

Losing my Cool (Tyrus One Shot)

Summary: The five times TJ nearly lost his cool and the one time he did.

Words: 2648

@criminalambis this is for you i’m so sorry

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

The first time TJ nearly lost his cool, it had been near the end of basketball practice, and for some reason he just wasn’t getting in the flow of things.

“Dude, Kippen, what’s up?” his teammate Darren asked him after TJ had missed yet another basket, and he threw the basketball down hard in frustration.

“Nothing,” TJ snarled, moving to his position as the other boy stood to throw the ball back in. TJ caught it, dribbling it up to the basket, only for Paul to almost effortlessly steal it from him, something that was a rarity. That did nothing at all to improve his mood, his vision red and blood heated up.

When Coach called time on the practice for the day, he pulled TJ aside, a concerned hope for a better run the next day muttered in a low voice. TJ knew the voice. He hated the voice, because he hadn’t been the subject of it in years.

“Looks like you lost your game, Kippen,” Paul said, a snarky grin on his face. “What is it? Time Jefferson finally got a worthy team captain?”

Oh he fucking didn’t.

Blood boiling, TJ started to walk up to Paul with the full intent of connecting his fist to his jaw regardless of the consequences, when the gym doors opened and he heard someone running up to him.

“Teej! I’m so sorry I’m late I didn’t think Spanish club would go on for so long,” Cyrus said as he ran up to TJ, panting slightly. As he reached, he opened his bag, pulling out a host of granola bars. “Now, I couldn’t find your favourite chocolate one, so I got white chocolate and blueberry, and even a honey one, so you can pick,” he finished, looking up at TJ with a smile.

As if a switch had been flipped, the crease on TJ’s forehead immediately smoothed, an amused smile spreading on his face as he looked at Cyrus. He chuckled, picking the white chocolate one. “Thank you, Underdog. Like I always say, you really don’t have to.”

“But I want to!” Cyrus said tilting his head slightly, that made TJ just want to pull him into the longest hug ever. “You ready to go?”

TJ nodded, but then turned around and looked at Paul. “Oh yeah, fuck you, Paul.”

“What happened?” Cyrus asked after he and TJ walked out of the gym, TJ’s gym bag over his shoulder.

TJ just shrugged, wrapping an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders to pull him closer. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“How was practice?”

TJ looked over at Cyrus and smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Better when you walked in.”

The second time TJ nearly lost his cool, he had been extremely late for school.

His phone had died just when the alarm was going to ring, causing him to oversleep and have to half-ass getting ready in the morning, barely even able to comb his hair. He had gotten into a huge argument with Amber in the morning, the yelling match echoing through the house until their mother screamed at the two of them to get out of the house, and disgruntled, Amber left, not even giving TJ his usual ride. So he was left to run to school in the freezing cold, the action doing wonders for his mood. As he ran up to his locker, he wracked his brain, trying to remember if he was forgetting something when he realised to his horror. He had a History test first lesson.

That was okay, he’d just read through his notes-

Oh fuck, he had left those at home.

TJ groaned loudly, earning some stares from students around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was hanging on my a tiny thread, this close to punching through his locker, or better, pull it off its hinges. TJ curled his hand into a fist, digging his fingernails into his palm as he opened his locker to take his books, when his eyes landed on the only two pictures in his locker. One was all of them at Andi’s legendary Epic Party 2.0, and the other was him and Cyrus in the park, at just the right moment during the sunset.

Looking at the picture, TJ squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bring himself down from his anger. What would Cyrus say if he was in front of him just then?

Well, he’d smile, and grab his hand, and tell him that it’s just a bad morning, the day was still open.

His smile would be enough to make him forget everything.

Leaning his head against the locker, TJ smiled slightly, pulling out the rest of his books.

The third time TJ nearly lost his cool, it had been, predictably, over a math problem.

TJ slammed his head on the desk, groaning slightly, earning a loud ‘Shh!’ from a kid sitting on the table diagonally across him in the library. He tore out another page of his notebook, crumpling it up and slamming it onto the table. He put his head into his hands, pressing it into his eyes slightly, hoping that would stop his head from splitting. Even after he had told Mr Coleman about his dyscalculia, he hadn’t been able to get very far. Well, further than a C-plus.

Now, TJ wasn’t disappointed with the C-plus, and telling Mr Coleman had gone well, but after that he still couldn’t go further, the numbers and problems still confusing him endlessly to the point of near frustration and anger. The point TJ was currently at.

He was dangerously close to just abandoning his homework, or worse, tearing it up, when he heard someone pull a chair up next to him. He turned around quickly, ready to snap, but immediately softening as he saw Cyrus’ face.

“What are you doing here, Cy?” TJ whispered, a small smile on his face.

“Well, I followed the whispers of an angry jock in the library and made an educated guess as to who it was,” Cyrus replied with a sneaky smile, and TJ playfully shoved him in the shoulder. “Okay, okay, call it ‘boyfriend’s instinct’ then,” Cyrus said as he sat down, shaking his head slightly.

TJ smiled softly, his heart picking up slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’. Still couldn’t believe it, after 3 months. “Well, blame the numbers for that then.”

“You good there?” Cyrus asked quietly, and TJ slowly shook his head, uncrumpling the homework and passing it to him.

“I can barely get through any of these, even after trying those techniques Coleman told me about. It’s killing me,” TJ sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Cyrus furrowed his eyebrows, leaning over the paper. He looked up at TJ with an encouraging smile, and grabbed the pen, tapping him on the hand.

“Don’t worry, I can help you a bit.”

The fourth time TJ nearly lost his cool, he had slammed the door of his room as he heard the beginnings of another one of his mom and dad’s fights.

He had been in the kitchen heating up a sandwich for himself when his father walked into the house and he and his mother exchanged some heated words, their voices starting out low and strained, but soon escalating. As soon as it reached that point, TJ shut his eyes, deciding to abandon the sandwich and just head to his room. His mom had tried to get him to stay down to try and prove a point, but TJ had just ended up yelling at her and stomping up the stairs, walking into his room. He had long since stopped trying to get Amber to open her door when stuff like that happened. Even as he walked into his room, he could still hear his mother yell after him, his father yelling soon after.

He hated this he hated this he hated this was all his mind was chanting at him, and for some reason that night, no amount of loud rock music seemed to drown away the yells. So he shrugged on the first hoodie he could find, pocketed his phone and climbed out of the window of his house, trudging in whatever direction his feet carried him.

Soon enough, he found himself at the swings. Seems like his feet knew to take him to the one place that had any way of calming him down. TJ sat down on the swing, drawing a shaky breath as he felt himself get choked up.

No stop it, he wasn’t gonna lose it he told himself, taking a deep breath. He pulled out his phone, shakily scrolling until he found the contact he needed and pressed ‘Call’.

“Hello?” said a sleepy Cyrus through the receiver, and TJ could swear he sighed in relief.

“Hey Cyrus,” TJ said, smiling to himself. “I’m so sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No no, it’s okay I was awake,” Cyrus lied, and TJ laughed slightly. “Is everything okay, Teej?”

“It will be,” he said quietly, nodding to himself. “I just wanted to hear your voice for right now.”

The fifth time TJ nearly lost his cool was right before their final game, his last game in Jefferson.

TJ wiped his sweaty palms on his jersey, trying to calm his nervous heart. But more than anything, he was trying to fight the anxious wave that was going to envelope him when he realised that this was it. His last run as captain of the basketball team, his last hurrah of middle school. That scared him more than it should have, and he had to remind himself to keep taking deep breaths.

“You good there Kippen?” Paul asked in his usual cocky tone. “Or are you gonna go out there and do an epic fail like that practice?”

Great like he needed that right now, TJ muttered in his head, glaring at Paul who was just smirking, knowing that he was just trying to get a rise out of TJ, being the next in line for captain and everything, being a year younger and everything. And that frustrated TJ to no end.

He clenched his jaw, looking away, reaching into his bag for water before he decided to do something stupid and give the team a reason to not have Paul playing that day. But as he reached in, he felt paper crinkling inside his bag. Narrowing his eyes, TJ pulled out whatever it was, finding a albeit crumpled up note.

Hey Teej, I know I can’t meet you before your game, but I know you’ll do great.

I believe in you.

Don’t do anything stupid.

Cyrus xx

TJ smiled as his eyes travelled across the piece of paper, involuntarily clutching it to himself as he laughed quietly, earning a knowing look from Darren and a scoff from Paul. But TJ wasn’t gonna let it get to him. Flipping Paul the finger, TJ slipped the note back into his bag and headed onto the game, looking back to see Cyrus holding a huge sign, Andi and Buffy cheering along beside him.

He was gonna try his best.

(And he did, shooting the winning shot, much to Paul’s misery. And when the game ended, Cyrus ran onto the court, tackling TJ in a hug, a soft “I knew you’d do it” whispered in his ear.)

The one time TJ lost his cool was not what you would expect.

The boy was over at Cyrus’ house and they were in his room, laying on the bed as TJ sketched and Cyrus lay on his lap reading a book. TJ was absent-mindedly running his fingers through Cyrus’ hair, occasionally allowing his hand to trail down to interlock with Cyrus’ free hand.

Overall, it was a lazy day where they wanted nothing more than to be with each other.

“Did you know that benches are the most fascinating piece of furniture?” TJ said, and Cyrus set down his book, sitting up to look TJ in the eye.

“TJ, tell me now if you have had one too many Red Bulls please so I can prepare accordingly,” Cyrus said in a deadpanned voice.

“No think about it!” TJ said, putting down his pencil. “Like, they have so many different styles, and is also the only piece of furniture that can also be a swing,” TJ stated surprisingly matter-of-factly, much to Cyrus’ amusement.

“I just think you’re biased,” Cyrus said, turning to face him. TJ looked away, his cheeks warm.

“Do you blame me?”

“Nope, I have a certain affinity for them too,” Cyrus said with a soft smile.

TJ laughed, before continuing to sketch what Cyrus could assume was only another sketch of his room, or of Cyrus himself.

Cyrus continued to look at him, smiling at the concentration in TJ’s features and the smile on his face as he worked, and he just ended up blurting out what he had been thinking for the past 6 months.

“I love you.”

As soon as he had said it, Cyrus froze, but immediately softened, knowing that yes, he said it, and he meant it.

TJ on the other hand, dropped his pencil, and slowly turned to Cyrus, eyes wide. “You, you what?”

“I love you TJ,” Cyrus said quietly, taking a deep breath as he looked at TJ.

It took a while for him to process those words, but when he did, TJ slowly began muttering to himself, “Oh my god oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!”

Clearly, the muttering soon turned to a loud exclamation.

“TJ? What’s happening?” Cyrus asked, looking at him concerned, but TJ couldn’t hear him, pacing around the room, taking a deep breaths.

“You said it, oh my god you said it!” TJ said, looking at Cyrus for the first time. “Oh my god, I’m freaking out. I’m losing it, oh my god.”

“TJ!” Cyrus said loudly, getting up and grabbing him by the arms. “You need to calm down.” He looked down, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m, I’m so sorry.”

“No no, Cyrus don’t be!” TJ said, grabbing Cyrus’ shoulders. “Please don’t be. It’s just, you deserve so much better than me, and I have no idea why and how I ever got lucky to be with someone as amazing as you and to have you love me, me, TJ Kippen. And I can’t even tell you how happy I am because I love you too and I just never thought this would happen.”

“Wait,” Cyrus said, his eyes wide. “What, what did you say?”

TJ looked at Cyrus with a small smile, taking a deep breath. “I love you too, Cyrus.”

Cyrus let out a small laugh, tears filling his eyes, as he jumped up, pulling TJ into a tight hug. TJ wrapped his arms around Cyrus’ waist, laughing along with him.

“I love you I love I love you,” TJ whispered in Cyrus’ ear, causing the boy to laugh happily, pulling away to kiss TJ on the cheek, on the forehead, on the nose.

TJ smiled brightly, leaning down to kiss Cyrus, tightening his grip on Cyrus’ waist, as Cyrus cupped TJ’s cheeks with his hands, both of them smiling into it.

As they pulled away, they rested their foreheads against each other, the smiles on their faces to big for anything to ever tear them down.

“I can’t believe this is real,” TJ whispered, and Cyrus laughed, pushing back TJ’s hair.

“It’s always been the truth to me,” he whispered back, and TJ bumped their noses together.

“Me freaking out must’ve been so lame to you.”

“No, not really, you just acted out what my brain was doing.”

TJ laughed, pulling Cyrus in for another hug. At least the one time he lost his cool was something worth remembering forever.

~~~~~~

this sucks yeet i’m sorry

#andi mack #tyrus #my fic #tyrus one shot #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #tyrus fanfic #tyrus fanfiction #tj x cyrus #thelonious jagger kippen #fanfiction #fanfic

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yfere · 5 years

Text

Shipping Calculus! Live updates from C2E64

They say that fire exposes a person’s priorities, but we here at the lab believe that a gaggle of overly friendly moaning demons can also do the trick. Thank you to @softazelma, @fyeahthominho, and @alarnia for helping with data entry! Masterpost here.

+500 to The Mighty Nein/Totally Not Anachronisms. Beau invented the phrase “Don’t shoot the messenger,” and also ravioli, with her hidden chef talent. Caleb, having wheeled and dealed with the rich assholes of the Empire, naturally invented the game of golf during his year at the Academy. And Moro watched only half of the first season of Stranger Things. Don’t spoil her, okay?

+150 to Caleb/Astrid/Eodwulf “FOR FUTURE REFERENCE, JESTER, I’ll have you know that Eodwulf who I have never mentioned to you and who was not mentioned in the letter was buff and muscular and strong and so talented whoops that’s not even a physical description anymore but did I mention he was impressive? So if Marion Lavorre meets a black haired blue eyed incredibly eligible and attractive and gifted heartthrob of a man that’s the one you’re looking for BEWARE.” Okay, Caleb. Gone are the days of being content with all the love being directed at Astrid, I see. All right.

+0 to Jester/Beau Well, if an indirect kiss involves drinking from the same water glass, is it an indirect flirt if you both flirt with the same person? Moro became the unlikely receptacle of both these gal’s affections this episode, between Beau’s loud and enthusiastic appreciation of Moro’s criminal hustle, and Jester making sure Moro knows that Jester thinks she’s cute (and that she’ll kill her for lying to them). Beau as usual hyping up Jester’s awesomeness to everyone (in this case Caduceus) who will listen. Shockingly, this episode Beau seems to have acquired the ability to actually fool Jester into thinking she’s fine, which resulted in point loss and meant Caleb instead had to pick up the slack to gracefully get some help for the poor beat up monk. (For him, that’s +6 to Caleb/Faking Injury for Friendship)

-30 to Fjord/Shortcuts Just as when Captain of the Ball-Eater, Fjord is ALL ABOUT running into clear danger if it means shaving one or two days off of a trip. Into the eye of the storm! Into Ground Zero of the Calamity! We care for speed here, not safety!

+18 to Caleb/Jester and speaking of Caleb having a Thing for strong people, how he continues to single out Jester as the Strongest Woman, who even is Yasha, which creates a perfect combination of #ItPaysToBeADamselInDistress and #LovesToBeAKnightInShiningArmor between the two of them, as Caleb begs for assistance getting a horse on his moorbounder of COURSE Jester can do this alone, Jester squashing Caleb adorably and staying there for….a length of time while at Moro’s (I guess Caleb is the type to have people sit on his face huh), and Caleb very effectively pulling his “Oh no, I am so weak and delicate I must have a fainting couch to rest upon for a spell” to Jester’s delighted crowing over how weak he is. Caleb as usual thinking Jester’s out-of-the-box thinking with an aerial view is The Best Thing Ever. Jester wanting to get in on the Healing Caleb Action Caduceus has been hogging with a Cure Wounds, what do you mean Fjord is injured too? (#ItReallyDoesPayToBeADamselInDistress). Caleb’s Worrywarting directed at full strength at Marion Lavorre. +4 to Yasha/Cockblocking for Jester bringing Yasha in on the horse moving action. Point loss for Caleb’s Worrywarting creating Jester Worrying and making her lose sleep. Nein! Not okay!

+17 to Beau/Yasha because as we all know mutilating corpses with Beau is a sure way to her big gooey heart. Also, Beau adopting a Striking Pose after striking the enemy dead, and the Gay Power of that alone probably making Yasha’s rage drop, as she struggles to pick her jaw up off the floor and reorient towards combat.

-10 to The Mighty Nein/The Neighbors as they apparently carry a couplea severed heads in plain view all across town on their way to the Xhorhaus before storing them. According to the local Mighty Nein Neighborhood Watch, this is only the third or fourth weirdest thing they’ve done.

+24 to Caleb/Caduceus as Caduceus continues as always to think Caleb is the solution to all problems always with his cool magic and his alarms, though +5 to Cockblocking for both Jester and Beau who tragically remind him that there are other people out there who can also do things. The slip into nearly calling Caleb “Mr. Clay” instead of “Mr. Caleb” is of note, and someone needs to investigate what he’s been writing in those hearts in his journal pronto. Caduceus making Caleb his #1 priority in battle, #ItPaysToBeADamselInDistress, with his ray of enfeeblement, healing, attacks, and physically standing over the wizard in a defensive stance to protect him! Batting away attacking bats (while Caleb crawls around collecting guano!). Points taken away because poor Caduceus forgets for a moment that the next brightest thing after his own pink hair is Caleb’s. It’s still romantic if you’re saving people from trouble you sent their way, right? Right? Points gained for asking if Caleb is okay after the fight, and for them both being very dark, between advocating for decapitation and threatening Moro and her employee with decapitation, simmer down a second Caleb.

+10 to Caleb/Vulture Culture. Between Frumpkin’s new shape and getting Those Good Spell Components, our dear Caleb, covered once more in gore and shit and Death, is his happiest self. Hopefully he didn’t ruin his new fancy threads.

+2 to Beau/Hosting as Beau practices Manners and Decorum with a “no, sir” to the attacking demons (#CustomerService). Some mixed messages by following this up with pummeling them to death, but An Effort Was Made.

+4 to Caduceus/Nature as he found a new mushroom! Which will definitely not be a bad mushroom in any way.

+90 to Caleb/Cat-Shaped Creatures. There’s the usual spying Frumpkin rigmarole, but it says something about your love for cats when you’re willing to forgive, nay, even love, suspiciously dog-like behavior of gross licking for affection—so long as it’s coming from a cat. Caleb cleverly disposing of troublesome corpses and feeding his favorite members of the M9 at the same time. Caleb also adorably taking Jannick out for a little run on the Fields of Death, and all the Moorbounders coming in clutch as fighting machines (with some wonderful light-based assistance from Caleb, Support Catster Extraordinare), and somehow remaining unscathed during battle.

+45 to Fjord/Jester. Lips. Made. Contact. With. A. Cheek. That is very cheeky of you Fjord, if I do say so myself. Jessie is said, not once but twice, and Jester gets to be her true #LovesToBeAKnightInShiningArmor self as she saves Fjord repeatedly by murdering the demons attacking him, only getting slightly annoyed that he gets in trouble immediately after she saves him the first time. Seriously though, the amount of Goopy Feelings Jester has for saving this poor man….well, #ItPaysToBeADamselInDistress. Point loss for poor Jester failing to look as cool as the knights in the novels as she falls flat on her face with the handaxe strike, but she makes up for it by pounding the creature to death with her spiritual weapon instead, that was totally intentional. Point gains for Fjord being very Pleased with anything and everything Jester got up to, Jester pumping up Fjord’s accent and impersonation skills, contributing to Corpse Interrogation with her own Disguise Self, and the Excellence that was the fake Insta-Death spell the two of them threatened Moro with.

-8 to Nott/Yeza “Tell Veth I love her” does not make up for fucking ditching your husband without a word, Nott, you absolute asshole. Please talk to your spouse.

+13 to Caleb/Fjord/Jester In another great week for this triad, they all prove to be Excellent at Delivering Deceptive Threats, though Caleb is as per usual a little too serious about his contributions (though the other two are uh a bit more on the serious side as well this is a Bloodthirsty Throuple) The Epic Triangle Of Saving Each Other, as Jester rescues Fjord and Fjord hustles to rescue Caleb, followed by Jester’s healing action. Fjord taking joy in Jester falling on top of Caleb, and the both of them being very good about letting the Totally Actually Injured And Not At All Faking dramatic wizard take a short rest for Beau.

+1 to Fjord/Caleb. Most of their points this week were more applicable to Caleb/Fjord./Jester, but the instant “Moro, you got to die” when Caleb Can’t-Switch-Tasks Assassin Wizard suggests it is still very fun. Fjord sort of leaps to Caleb’s suggestions this episode, the ultimate yes-and-man.

+6 to Fjord/Detective Work as he steers the party clear of the Bad Tar Pits, they might have landed in quite a sticky situation otherwise

+20 to Critters/Detective Work, as the cast very loudly run through the Totally Natural Conclusion to the clues provided in the last ep, they Definitely Solved This Themselves, they had No Help From The Internet.

+14 to Fjord/Caduceus. Fjord offers to “loom” over Caduceus’ shoulder and points out that he looks “fleek” like damn, Caduceus, the boy is making an effort for you! As usual they are On The Same Wavelength and good cop/bad cop Moro and co. like pros, no discussion or even a conspiratorial glance required, they know what the jig is before anyone else. Fjord advocating for sending Moro money because that was Caduceus’ plan, no one is allowed to argue. Also being excellent interrogators of corpses together. Fjord is a huge fan of Caduceus’ magical food powers, #MagicalCrush, would “not turn down” Caduceus’ healing, and he kills some bats Cads was slapping around. Unfortunately without the bats Caduceus proceeds to slap a bunch of points out of the ship by saying he “doesn’t care.” That is cold.

+7 to Jester/Caduceus as they do a little awkward dance on the steps to make it around each other, and spending hours annoying everyone else in the party by talking about Cleric Things. Caduceus being impressed over Jester totally lying about being able to talk to dead horses, and Jester going wild over HOW COOL the Corpse Interrogation was. The Clerics Cuddling for comfort when the enemies first attack, since that was definitely what Jester and Caduceus were doing no questions here. Points taken away because Jester’s enthusiasm for Corpse Interrogation sort of glosses over how Caduceus “feels dirty” over the whole affair, they are apparently not too compatible in this area.

-5 to Nott/Yasha as Nott makes a sincere and successful effort to apologize to Yasha for sticking her like a pincushion and trying to be Nice and Supportive with memory games to help Yasha remember the “drow.” But points are drained away into the negatives as Nott goes a little too hard with the interrogation over Yasha having potentially killed people to make orphans (“that’s a cool name” and “Orphie” is terrible and does not make up for this nonsense), and Yasha’s well-received but still terrible allowance of Nott’s alcoholic predilections. They are a wonderful trainwreck to watch.

-20 to The Mighty Nein/Names. As of right now, there appears to be one (1) member of the Mighty Nein in Caduceus Clay who did not at some point either change their name or have some type of Name Angst over what someone else has named them. Though making faces at ‘Ducey might come to count for something, in time.

+11 to Nott/Jester Speaking of Disguise Self Shenanigans, how Nott is the Moro to Jester’s invisible bugbear, making them the logical pairing of the Corpse Interrogation Caper. Jester’s adorable confusion over her nickname being “Little Sapphire” which leads to Nott instantly screeching about how beautiful and perfect Jester is, that lovable dumbass. Nott using the word “shiny” to describe Jester, which seems technically a little odd but says loads about Nott’s affection for the gal, as this is the #1 lover of Shiny Valuable Things in the party speaking.

+8 to Jester/Yasha as Yasha in her sweet soft way also points out how Jester is very pretty and brings up Fluffernutter as a potential badass name that some of the people in her tribe might have been named for. Jester, for her part, directing Worrywarting in Yasha’s direction over how she was recognized and trying to give Yasha control over what they do next and what Yasha wants, though dear Yasha who cannot assert herself to save her life only manages to tentatively say she wants to know what’s going on before saying she’ll do whatever the group wants. (They! Want! What! You! Want! Yasha!)

-6 to Jester/Curtains, which surprisingly don’t taste as good to tieflings as they do to moths. Further experimentation required to determine how delicious they are to goblins, firbolgs, half orcs, aasimar and humans.

-101,019.01 to Critters/Child Poverty. TAKE THAT, CHILD POVERTY! This is how much was raised at the end of the stream, and a deserved kick in the face to all Child Poverty ships everywhere #AntiChildPoverty

#critical role #cr spoilers #widofjorester #blumenkids #widofjord #widojest #fjorester #clayleb #nott the best detective agency #clayvorre #nottasha #jestasha #beaujester #lavorregard #beauyasha #fjorclay #shipping calculus

211 notes · View notes

irinapaleolog · 4 years

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DISCLAIMER: This article is intended for educational and research purposes only. It has been published to shed light and correct understanding on the escalating issue of hatred of women online. By extension, this article also aims to inform readers on right-leaning and left-leaning internet hive minds and their negative influence on culture, politics, and society.

T/W: This article contains mentions of sexual assault, violence against women, suicide, incest, racism, anti-semitism, sexism

If you’re a woman who is active in an online, women-dominated fandom space, then you’re well aware of everything this article is about to tell you.

You’ve read every death threat.

You’ve gone through the sometimes graphic — but always malicious — anonymous message or tweet explaining every way in which some person you’ll never know would like to harm you.

You may have been banned from a fan forum or had your messages wiped from a Discord channel by a bot or mod who decided that your thoughts and your words as a woman were not allowed around here.

You’ll probably remember all the times your sexual identity, your race, or your religious affiliation was questioned and erased.

You have read every time the latest hive mind online has labeled you a sexist. A racist. An abuse apologist. A school shooter. An inbred. A Nazi. A mental case. Inhuman.

You probably know somebody whose had their information put up on Reddit threads or 4chan forums or alt-right YouTube channels for everybody to see. The aim? To determine if maybe they could find ways to hurt that individual in person or — at the very least — make their life a little harder.

And of course, you know all too well that all the threats, lies, bullying, defamation, doxxing, and dehumanization is driven by the internet’s systemic fear over women enjoying media made for them, on their own terms, and on their own time.

We’ve experienced countless cycles of this outrage, ranging from comic book heroes to k-pop. One of the most recent iterations, however, is driven by a desire to see two fictional space wizards kiss in a galaxy far, far away.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with what it’s like to be a fan of “Reylo” in the Star Wars fandom, well, it looks a bit like this:

All of the screenshots, located above, catalog a small sample of the four years of hate sent to “Reylos:” fans who are interested in the canon romantic dynamic between Rey and Kylo Ren in the Star Wars sequel trilogy. These fans are predominately women.

And, no, let’s get this out of the way: These hate posts, while directed towards fans of a fictional pairing, have nothing to do with fictional characters. This hate has everything to do with policing and punishing women for collectively enjoying fiction in a way deemed incorrect by various political and social agendas. The end goal is always the same — bully these women until they become silent.

Defining a “Bullying Hive Mind:” The “Alt-Right” vs “Antis”

The ways in which bullying hive minds reach this end goal are dependent on the political alignment of the cyberbully. Either they are pursuing an agenda dictated by alt-right circles or one dictated by factions of the progressive left, both of which gained internet popularity in the early to mid 2010s.

Most people — whether it’s because you’ve kept up with the aftereffects of the 2016 election or because you’ve spent anytime on YouTube as of late — are familiar with the alt-right. This group leans male and is driven mostly by insecurity, overt misogyny, and a sense of ownership over what they think are “male-dominated spaces” being overrun by women. It’s another example of extreme conservative thinking: what was mine should stay mine and anybody who thinks differently than me needs to get out of my way.

Arguably the biggest example of alt-right hate and harassment online is Gamergate, an anti-women bullying campaign that first arose on 4chan. The movement’s aim was to push women out of gaming journalism, game design, and gaming fandom by sending death threats, rape threats, stalking women, and dehumanizing women to their peers.

The event bolstered the anger, insecurity, and sexism of young men into an online hive mind that continues today, most notably in Gamergate’s successor “Comicsgate,” which orchestrated the attempted sabotage of Captain Marvel’s release.

These people are not hard to find. They parade their ideas on Reddit or, increasingly likely, on monetized YouTube channels. Their tactics often include spreading misinformation using false “evidence;” discrediting women’s interests by reducing them to “mental cases;” dogpiling; and doxxing.

In Star Wars fandom, this right-leaning group refers to themselves as “The Fandom Menace.” The group was created by former Comicsgate supporter Ethan Van Sciver, who goes by ComicArtistPro Secrets on YouTube. He frequently uploads videos — clickbait title and all — with common alt-right buzz words like “SJW.”

The Fandom Menace was formed in response to The Last Jedi — a more inclusive, forward-thinking addition to the Star Wars franchise that was inspired by the writings of Robert Bly, a leader in the mythopoetic men’s movement. The focus on feminine power and multiple women with complex character development and speaking roles within the film — in addition to the death of Luke Skywalker — powered this hate group to see Star Wars under Disney as “feminist propaganda.” They were driven by the belief that Disney was attempting to erase men from the Star Wars fan community. This led to several targeted hate campaigns including one that ran actress Kelly Marie Tran off of social media.

Where the alt-right works to monetize their hate through public YouTube channels, left-leaning circles are less well known to the general public. Reactionary left-leaning circles that operate within fandom spaces tend to skew younger (mostly generation-z and late millennial) and are predominantly women. They rose in 2015 with the onset of Tumblr and in response to the changing dynamics within “shipping” fandoms. For the uninitiated, “shippers” are groups of people within fandoms who center their attention around a specific relationship within that fandom (e.g. Rey and Kylo Ren).

In online spaces, this reactionary, left-leaning group is better known as “antis.” This name was given to this group after they became known for demonizing, demoralizing, and/or dehumanizing any individual in a shipping fandom who they deemed to be promoting “problematic” content through the fiction they consumed.

Anti harassment campaigns follow a consistent pattern where genuine concerns about real-world injustice are misinterpreted and applied to fictional properties in an attempt to create a 1:1 comparison and exert power over another (often marginalized) group. They start by leveraging performative accusations around real world issues such as sexism, racism, homophobia, sexual assault, and gendered violence against fictional characters deemed by the group to be representative of these problems. The guilt-by-association of these characters is then applied to the people who like these characters, and a general warning is issued: “stop supporting them, or else.”

When this accusation is ignored, it is then weaponized into bullying campaigns that aim to belittle and discredit women through dangerously shallow and irrational pearl clutching. The motivations and levels of participation in these harassment campaigns vary, but they tend to move from one large fandom to the next, focusing on whatever pop culture character will award them the most clout.

As one of the biggest current pop culture “ships,” Reylos have drawn the antis’ ire on both Twitter and Tumblr since the ship’s inception in 2015. The following accusations have been leveled against fans of these characters since 2015. These accusations include:

That Reylos support real life abuse by wanting a romantic pairing between two characters who begin as enemies in an epic myth.

That Reylos are racists because they support a romantic pairing between two white characters.

That Reylos are sexist because Reylos write sexually explicit fanfiction between the “pure” heroine and the “bad guy.”

The importance of these causes and people’s ability to engage with them in good faith is recklessly diminished by blaming valid, real life concerns on women who are enjoying a fictional pair of characters from a film series. It disregards the fact that the women shipping these characters are not a homogeneous group in either their identity or their background. It erases the abuse that some shippers have experienced first-hand — -abuse they should not be forced to out on the internet in order for their shipping to be seen as socially acceptable.

When the Left Leans Right

Launching targeted harassment at any group of women celebrating an enemies-to-lovers ship won’t gain antis clout among their peers. As mentioned previously, Reylo is specifically targeted because it’s arguably the biggest ship in one of the biggest franchises in the world. This means that while Emma Watson said that the enemies-to-lovers dynamic in Beauty and the Beast is about “inclusion and love,” that classic Disney film is old and it’s been done. There is no longer a large, activated community around it, and, as such, there is little incentive to bully the women who enjoy it.

Once antis do decide to bully a ship, however, one of the main accusations leveled at followers of enemies-to-lovers ships is that what they are supporting is “dangerous” to society. To antis, symbolism and subtext in fiction are bypassed in favor of literal and often severe interpretations of a story’s greater meaning. This means that, theoretical little girls and grown women who are unable to separate fiction from reality are put at risk of harming themselves and others because of what they see in fiction.

The irony of this is that a group of mainly women confidently trying to convince other women that they must be protected from complicated romantic dynamics in fairytales is taken from a page in the American conservative playbook that is still used today. For decades, American conservatives have used popular media to scapegoat real issues in society that are easier to pass off as a consequence of the media our society consumes rather than what our society actually teaches and perpetuates.

For example: In 1948, psychiatrist Frederic Wertham began to publish magazine articles and books that claimed that comic books led to juvenile delinquency. While he had no scientific evidence, his writings caused a societal outcry that led to an investigative Senate Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency. Here, conservative politicians demonized comic book writers and the comic book industry, declaring that “this country cannot afford the calculated risk involved in feeding its children, through comic books, a concentrated diet of crime, horror, and violence.”

The subcommittee eventually lead to the Comic Codes Authority — a comics industry created code that put restrictions on the art their creators could produce. The code stifled the industry for almost a decade.

Around the time the subcommittee’s investigation was coming to a close in 1955, the pearl clutching continued on television in a special news report entitled “Confidential File: Horror Comic Books!”

More propaganda video than actual news report, the narrator speaks over several young boys alone in the woods reading comic books. The narrator states:

“When I was a boy and hung with the gang we did a lot of things, we roasted potatoes, we went on expeditions, we tipped over garbage cans now and then, we wrote nasty remarks about the teacher on the sidewalk, but we never spent an afternoon sitting around like this, reading.

What a wonderful thing this would be if they were reading something worth while, something that would stimulate their desires to build and to grow. But they’re not reading anything constructive…they’re reading stories devoted to adultery, to sexual perversion, to horror, to the most despicable of crimes…

One of the wonderfully appealing things about children is that they haven’t yet come to the age where reality and unreality are divorced. The emotional impact of something they read in a comic book may be much the same as a real life situation they would witness.”

The news report goes on to show young boys stabbing trees with a knife and almost killing their friend with a rock after reading horror comic books.

This same outlandish, conservative mindset is what we see today in left-leaning anti culture. The difference now, however, is that these ideals are being regurgitated and repackaged for young girls as each generation of women gains more power within a patriarchal society.

For girls, the preoccupation is not around whether or not they will commit violence, but rather, who they will have sex with and how they will be treated as they grow within a historically male-dominated culture. The idea that women will get themselves into toxic, abusive relationships because they consume hyperbolic myths and fairytales instead of the real consequences of imposter syndrome, insecurity, and the restriction of women to explore their worth in society is no different than what conservatives said about boys in 1950s America. They asserted that boys would become violent psychopaths because they consumed multi-colored panels depicting fictional, exaggerated violence instead of the real life wars our countries waged, fear mongering on the news, or the pro-gun culture surrounding them daily. Both thought processes are damaging to the growth of our societal beliefs.

In fact, the fear and discomfort of women exploring sex within their own spaces is something that is threatening to groups on both the left and the right.

John Boyega’s New Years Eve Tweet: What Caused It and Why Did it Blow Up?

All of the screenshots above were taken within 4 days following a blow up on Twitter involving Star Wars actor John Boyega, a few sock puppets, and whole load of serial anti and alt-right accounts.

If you’ve been on Twitter this year, chances are you have noticed John Boyega trending. The 27-year old actor (best known for his portrayal as Resistance hero Finn in the Star Wars sequel trilogy) gained traction on Twitter New Year’s Eve when he posted a tweet of characters Rey and Kylo Ren fighting (as they do in a movie entitled, well, Star Wars) with the caption “Star Wars Romance.”

To anybody who had never touched fandom Twitter, the tweet appears harmless enough. However, the tweet was successful in doing exactly what it intended and exactly what lurking hate accounts who successfully orchestrated the bullying barrage wanted the tweet to do. It galvanized a hoard of antis and alt-right trolls and their following to — by their own admission — bully Reylos.

This particular incident began with Twitter user @crogman, a sock puppetnow going by the name of @solo_sebes. The sock puppet account appeared on Twitter in mid December 2019 and quickly entrenched itself in a community of Reylos by retweeting and posting Reylo-positive tweets and joining in on post The Rise of Skywalker discourse. The account was also quick to energize antis of the Rey/Kylo dynamic.

Now that the sock puppet is embedded deeply enough into the Reylo community that somebody within that community would see controversy on their timeline between @crogman and Boyega, @crogman tweeted at the Star Wars actor, “bro you’re extremely disgusting and gross also fucking disrespectful…you cannot be this jealous of adam driver dude as a black woman im fucking ashamed that someone like you represented us in star wars.”

The comment was included with a screenshot of John Boyega on Instagram writing “@heyfabrice it’s not about who she kisses but who eventually lays the pipe. You are a genius.”

Boyega’s Instagram comment was in response to a fan suggesting that Rey (played by Daisy Ridley in The Rise of Skywalker) was now available after her canon romantic partner, Ben Solo (played by Adam Driver) died saving her life.

Boyega’s comments upset some fans on Instagram who found that his comments suggested that a woman’s worth in romantic relationships — fictional or not — was a prize to be won by the man who gets to have sex with her first.

The sock puppet account inflamed a situation that would likely have stayed on Instagram. While antis correctly identified that the account was fake and was indeed blackfishing, antis incorrectly claimed that the account was created by Reylos to justify a group of white women attacking Boyega on social media. Instead, the account was clearly a plant meant to goad the actor into directing hate at Reylos.

This is proven by the fact that the account under its new username attempted to instigate hate towards Boyega’s co-star Daisy Ridley in the comments of Reylos’ posts shortly after New Year’s Eve.

Additionally, @crogman was not the only account never associated with the Reylo community that was used to inflame the situation with Boyega. User @FaberLima1 tweeted at Boyega under @crogman’s tweet writing “you are paying mico and only worsening your image. Better stop (and erase while you have time).”

Boyega responded to this tweet with several laugh emojis.

The account @FaberLima1 at the time of this screenshot has 6 followers and no tweets past December 25th. Like @crogman, the account posts Reylo-positive posts utilizing popular hashtags within the fandom including #BenSoloDeservesBetter, a hashtag created by fans of Ben Solo to express their dissatisfaction with his character’s ending.

Also like @crogman, the account was created in July 2019 yet has tweets only traceable in December, signifying that the account has been nuked perhaps multiple times.

Shortly after @crogman’s tweet to Boyega, antis began to push common anti-Reylo accusations. This included accounts who had never actively bullied Reylos. For example, user @sxidey posted several tweets accusing Reylos of “sexualizing Rey,” “harassing John”, and giving “money to the military.”

The latter accusation is a common left-leaning talking point against Reylos who support Adam Driver (a former marine). This particular comment was a reference to a Gofundme started by Ben Solo fans on Reddit. The Gofundme is raising money for Driver’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces.

The account, however, had only had one recent mention of Reylo two days earlier on December 28th. The account itself is also new, joining in October 2019.

It’s possible that the account is simply a new anti account on Twitter. Regardless, the listing of anti accusations against Reylos almost at the exact time of @crogman’s post reveals the motive of inciting hatred against members of the Reylo community.

Another account, @itsjoey56138220, was also inflaming the situation early on underneath @crogman’s tweet with accusations that Reylos were racist.

Unlike @sxidey, this account has a history of inciting hate against Reylos with outlandish conspiracy theories including one theory that Reylos were created by the alt right who caused “ex Twilight bitches” to make the ship popular. The account has also claimed that Reylos are racist because Reylo shippers want a “whites only romance.”

Boyega, in response to users including two sock puppet accounts with no association to Reylo — and encouraged by anti accounts sewing seeds of hatred across Twitter — finally took to his own Twitter account to tweet:

The tweet, which currently sits at over 190k likes, caused tens of thousands of hateful, targeted tweets towards a group of fans made up predominantly of women and girls. It also resulted in several hate videos by alt-right YouTubers totaling hundreds of thousands of views, several hacked accounts, and the suicide baiting of a teenage girl.

The New Years Incident By The Numbers: How Boyega’s Tweet Set Off The Left and Alt-Right

Following Boyega’s tweet, reactionary users on both left and alt-right Twitter felt further emboldened to hate on a group of women they had been discrediting, dehumanizing, and sending death threats to for years. For myself, the event presented an opportunity, albeit an unfortunate one, to track these groups’ behaviors and quantify them. Ultimately, I had the goal to break down how these incidents are organized to hate on women, whether for purposes of clout or their desire to purge women from fandom spaces.

For this analysis, I took a sample of tweets that contained the word “Reylo” (the search pull also included its plural form “Reylos”) from December 31, 2019 (the day of Boyega’s tweet) to January 3, 2020. After cleaning the accounts to the best of my ability of “pro-Reylo” tweets, I was left with 25,012 tweets that contained negative and neutral comments about Reylos and the Reylo dynamic. I sifted manually through about 7k of these tweets to find key themes, which I verified utilizing a text mining analysis of the tweets.

I emerged being able to quantify the following key themes:

Hate, Trolling, Cyberbullying

Abuse, Toxicity

Racism

Sex, Sexualized, Objectification

Mental, Psychotic, Unhinged

“Hate” received the most individual tweets at ~2.2k tweets and received ~31.4 likes per tweet on average. Tweets containing themes “abuse” and “racism” received a slightly higher avg like count at 38.7 avg likes and 35.4 avg likes, respectively. These themes, along with tweets dealing with “sex” were all mentioned over 1k times.

What this suggests is that a smaller number of accounts with a wider reach were posting more substantive tweets with a focused agenda, while tweets containing “hate’ keywords were more likely to be lobbed out by anyone, including accounts with very little reach.

Tweets mentioning the theme of Reylo fans being “mental” cases had less tweets at 602 total tweets. This theme was pushed strongly by the alt-right circles involved as opposed to leftist circles, which dominated the conversation on Twitter. While this analysis does not focus on the alt-right’s reaction on YouTube, Twitter was used as a place to spread YouTube reactions created by notable Fandom Menace members.

Keyword Group: Hate

The “hate” keyword group quantified tweets containing any mention of trolling, cyberbullying, or hate towards Reylos. The fact that “hate” reveals itself as a top keyword provides further evidence that this event was viewed as implicit approval to bully a group of fans consisting predominantly of women. Anybody involved in sending Reylos hate were, by their own admission, the bullies and were cheering John on for “trolling” women and “putting [women] in their place.”

“Reading Reylo hate to cheer myself up”

“I don’t like Finn’s character either, but I love how John is putting Reylos in their place.”

“Seeing John Boyega troll the Reylos is the greatest way to end 2019”

The clear agenda to send hate towards a group of women and teenage girls was further validated by the fact that the incident was received positively by all sides of the political spectrum, from “progressive” antis to members of the alt-right. The members included the Fandom Menace and alt-right leader and Pizzagate supporter Jack Posobiec.

Both groups took advantage of the situation utilizing the same tactics they typically employ. The alt-right took to YouTube and Twitter to discredit women among their followers by using buzz-words such as “SJW” and “Twilight.” “Twilight” — which was mentioned 103 times in association with “Reylo” between 12/31/2019 and 1/3/2020 — is often used to describe any piece of media enjoyed predominantly by women.

The goal is to degrade women’s interests among their peers by pushing the narrative that Reylos are silly girls consistently preoccupied with the same trivial, valueless media.

Examples of tweets from the alt right include the following:

“John Boyega ripped the Reylo’s a new asshole. You haven’t seen this many acne riddled fatty Tumblr Girls lose their shit since Twilight ended.”

“My thesis: Reylos and most of these Neo Star Wars fans are just ex Twilight fans and self hating beta male cucks who attached themselves to the franchise like parasites. Next they will glom onto whatever film series is hot and continue their rot.”

“StarWars was so great before Disney. Now its plagued by psychotic Reylo fans, Tumblr freaks, representation-screeching SJWs, radical feminism activists, ex-Twilight fans, &wine-guzzling Disney-fan mothers caked Karen. &these are the people they’re now targeting for their fandom.”

On the other side of the spectrum, long-time anti accounts spearheaded the harassment of Reylo shippers, leveraging Boyega’s tweet to bombard Reylo shippers with hate messages. This included viral tweets from accounts with a history of anti behavior across multiple fandoms, along with multiple tweets from accounts with history of targeting Reylos.

For example, Twitter user @Iovestour tweeted, “oscar isaac going off about disney’s blatant homophobia & john boyega telling reylos to fuck themselves all within two weeks i love men men are my friends.” This tweet has more than 48k likes. You’ll be hard pressed, however, to find any tweets by the account past November 2019, even though the account has been active since March 2018.

All tweets made under the account’s former name “blinkapologist” have been deleted — a trait uncharacteristic of your normal Twitter user just looking to share their opinions and maybe curate the news. Past tweets (to which blinksapologists’ tweets and replies have been deleted) reveal a pattern of anti behavior including a history of going after individuals supporting fictional characters the anti finds problematic, utilizing extremist parallels to real-life events.

A reply to @Iovestour in June 2019 reveals the user had allegedly called victims of the Holocaust Nazi supporters. The accusation appears to have been said to supporters of Marvel character Wanda Maximoff.

Along with antis with history across multiple fandoms inciting hatred against Reylos, this event also revealed itself as a targeted harassment campaign due to the frequency in which some accounts tweeted at or about Reylos.

Boyega’s tweet caused some anti accounts within this sample to tweet over 50 times about Reylos in the span of 4 days including sadgeorgelucas1, who tweeted about Reylos ~100 times, drhorotiwtzfine, who tweeted about Reylos ~75 times, and saltandrockets, who tweeted about Reylos ~65 times.

This is not abnormal. Several of these top accounts were also consistently bullying Reylos. The accounts highlighted in red in the chart below are anti-Reylo accounts that were also included as mentioning Reylo frequently between December 31, 2019 to January 3, 2020. This includes once again drhorowitzfine, who has mentioned Reylo negatively ~1,150 times between 2017 to 2019. Other top anti accounts include winniethepoe1, who tweeted about Reylo ~320 times from 2018 to 2019 and ~25 times during Boyega’s New Year’s Eve incident.

Of course no harassment campaign can be waged without finding ways to make the people being bullied look like they were worth being bullied. One of the two main “arguments” thrown against Reylos included the predictable anti accusation of Rey and Kylo’s “abusive” relationship poisoning the mind’s of women and girls. Since Reylo shippers had made the decision to create transformative works and discuss a fictional romance found to be impure by the antis, Reylos could now be cyberbullied in real life for their morally reprehensible decisions.

Reylo is also referred to as “abusive” because some still try to stretch the narrative that Rey and Kylo’s relationship is incestual, and therefore Reylo’s are promoting incest.

The idea that the relationship is incestual goes back to a 2016 fan clash over who Rey’s parents were. Many fans wanted Rey to be a Skywalker or a Solo, which would make her related to Kylo Ren, the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo. The event involved Reylos being frequently lobbed with accusations of incest, and they were at one point banned from discussing Rey and Kylo’s dynamic on a popular Star Wars forum, Jedi Council Forums.

Another common theme was that Reylos were “toxic.” This theme was mostly fed by alt-right circles and originated with a post by Fandom Menace supporter Dataracer117, who has a history of harassing Reylos.

Dataracer117 has a history of voicing his contempt for Disney and their “radical feminist propaganda.” This is most notably seen in his involvement in Comicgate’s attack on Captain Marvel. This included digging up screenshots by fans of Captain Marvel who spoke out against the sexism being aimed against the film, accusing all the accounts of being “Captain Marvel bots.”

Like the Captain Marvel incident, Dataracer117 posted a tweet with screencaps that Reylos were allegedly sending death threats to JJ around the time of Boyega’s tweet. Despite Dataracer117’s history attempting to devalue women in fandom communities and despite the screencaps being debunked by the Reylo community, the screencaps gained traction around Twitter, YouTube, and in media publications including Buzzfeed. They were further used to create the narrative that Reylos are “unhinged.”

This narrative inflamed alt-right accounts, and they began to frequently frame Reylos as mental cases. Discrediting women is nothing new (in fact you can easily read about it in this essay on Western puritanical conditioning against women in the 17th century), and is to be expected from a community who dedicates their time to driving women away from their online spaces.

The second accusation that was used to fuel harassment against Reylos was the claim that Reylos were racist against Boyega. They claimed that Reylos’ harassment of the actor led women to be upset with Boyega over his Instagram comment. This led to harassment on his Twitter — which remember, was started by a sock puppet account not associated with the Reylo community.

While racism is a prevalent concern that needs to be addressed within all fandom communities-and questions over inherent privilege due to one’s community are something to be examined-no support was given to back up these particular claims about the Reylo community during this incident.

This is not to say, however, that isolated incidents have not occurred outside of this specific accusation within the Reylo fandom, as they would within any large and global group of people. However, these incidents are statistically insignificant to the population of people who discuss Reylo positively on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis (which, according to the sample number of accounts who have discussed Reylo between 2015 to 2019, can be quantified at over 40k individuals. The true number is dependent on how many accounts — currently almost 70k — discuss Reylo negatively within the sample).

This particular accusation of racism has several layers to it and I would like to break them down separately.

“But Reylos Read Explicit Fanfiction”

The first part of this is that the nature of Boyega’s Instagram comments allowed antis and alt-right circles to attack Reylos on NSFW fanfiction and fanart written and drawn for and by women. It also allowed antis to draw more criticism around the ways in which Reylos analyzed The Last Jedi, a film with many allusions to the writings of psychoanalytics including Sigmund Freud.

After the release of The Last Jedi, the Reylo community, who had written long form meta analysis on the Star Wars saga since 2015, wrote lengthy metas about the symbolism in the film. Much of this symbolism was reflective of Rey’s sexual awakening throughout her journey in the movie.

Antis took issue with this and saw this as “sexualizing” Rey’s character. They asserted that women exploring sexuality through the lens of a fem-gaze narrative written for women was appalling, degrading, and out of line.

For anti and alt-right circles, the Reylo community’s openness to discussing sex in Star Wars through meta, fanfiction, and fanart by women (and generally for women) meant that Reylos could not take offense to Boyega’s questionable comment that suggested to some of his fans that Rey was a sexual prize to be won. The narrative antis spun was wholly unable — and unwilling — to separate women discussing sex in their own communities as different from men offering their sexual “jokes.”

This justification for bullying Reylos felt eerily similar to “she was wearing that, she asked for it.” It’s a highly socialized sexist line of reasoning women deal with daily and one that was readily accepted in this incident.

2. “But Reylos Ship Rey With The White Character”

Since 2015, Reylos have been accused of racism on the grounds that Reylos did not prefer Rey to be in a romantic relationship with the black male protagonist. This claim is presented without any evidence to back up the accusation.

Furthermore, the people who ship Rey and Finn (known as “Finnrey”) have done little to celebrate this pairing and act as a fan community. In fact, they have consistently acted more like a group that seeks to find ways to activate hate against Reylos instead of create content for their ship.

The two data visualizations below show every user in my sample who has tweeted the word “Reylo” between 2015 to 2019 vs every user in my sample who has tweeted the word “Finnrey” between 2015 to 2019. The gray in these charts represent the number of accounts who have only ever tweeted about their own ship. The purple represents the overlap — that is the accounts who have tweeted at least once about the other ship.

The first observation is that the number of users discussing “Finnrey” is small in comparison to the number of accounts discussing “Reylo.” Finnrey was mentioned by 7,780 accounts while Reylo was mentioned by 69,484 accounts.

As mentioned, gray = accounts who have only ever tweeted about their own ship. Purple = accounts who have tweeted about at least one other ship. So, in this case, out of the ~7.8k accounts that tweeted about Finnrey, ~60% of accounts mentioned “Reylo” at least once (4,665 accounts total). This number represents only ~7% of accounts who have ever talked about Reylo.

This data is supported by other statistics comparing the two ships. For example, on fanfiction website Archive of Our Own, the fic tag for Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren has ~16k fics. There are another 12k fics in the tag for Rey/Kylo Ren. The fic tag for Finn/Rey has under 2k fics.

3. “Reylos Have Bullied John Since 2015”

The most damaging false claim to come out New Year’s Eve was that Reylos had been attacking Boyega (and other Star Wars actors) with racist tweets since 2015.

It is very true that the actor has received heinous racist attacks. Most notably, the actor was attacked on social media following a #BoycottEpisodeVII hashtag that was started by two 4chan trolls in an attempt to get racist Star Wars fans to take the bait. It is well known that this hashtag was the work of racist alt-right accounts.

Since the hashtag, other attacks have been levied on Boyega. One of these attacks included a surge of outcries against him by The Fandom Menace, after a tweet posted in June 2018 stated: “If you don’t like Star Wars or the characters understand that there are decisions makers and harassing the actors/actresses will do nothing. You’re not entitled to politeness when your approach is rude. Even if you paid for a ticket!”

The Fandom Menace took the opportunity to bring their anger over Boyega’s comments to Twitter and YouTube, much like Comicsgate did when Brie Larson spoke in favor of diversity.

Reylos, however, are now being blamed for these attacks without any supporting evidence. They are also being blamed for the harassment of Kelly Marie Tran. The actress was bullied off of social media by alt-right trolls on her Instagram page, along with antis who saw her character kissing Finn as “sexual assault.”

You will not find any evidence linking the Reylos back to the targeted harassment of any Star Wars actors over the years. Predictably, however, you will find that the people who used this accusation to their advantage admitted that their own motive was bullying.

For example, Twitter user @notlipglosse tweeted “the way this man waited until he got his last star wars check so he could freely make fun of the racist stans who have bene harassing him since 2015 %@&@*!?!?!?” This tweet (at the time of the screencap) gained ~92.2k likes. A tweet posted on December 19th, however, reads “the way we’ve been bullying Reylo stans and calling them delusional and they won…,” further supports the data that this incident was about inciting hatred towards a group of fans predominately made up of women.

Another example is from user @irisckp. Shortly after Boyega’s tweet, the user tweeted “NOT THIS REYLO AND HER MUTUALS ACTING LIKE JOHN BOYEGA HAS BROUGHT SOME TYPE OF OPPRESSION WHEN HE WAS RACIALLY ABUSED BY REYLO’S FOR YEARS. HE HAD EVERY RIGHT.” Again this tweet was presented without evidence that Reylos had “racially abused” Boyega.

The tweet is referring to a livestream from a young woman in the Reylo community who candidly expressed discomfort over the false accusations and bullying. The livestream was taken by antis and used to further bully the young woman.

This bullying eventually descended into suicide baiting that resulted in the woman’s account being deleted. However, this did not stop antis from pushing the woman to kill herself. It also did not stop them from telling the teenager’s father, who had gotten involved in combating the harassment, to “live tweet your reaction when you find your daughters lifeless body dangling from her rooms ceiling fan.”

After @iriscpk’s initial tweet, the user admitted that they had “never seen Star Wars” (like a portion of antis bullying Reylos that night) and that “Reylo” is used as an umbrella term for their unsupported accusations of racism against Boyega.

The tweets again reveal that viral tweets making accusations against Reylos had no merit, and were not based in any evidence they had seen with their own eyes. These users were looking to be involved in the latest conversation despite the lack of evidence or knowledge and despite the real harm being done to the community the tweet targeted.

This supports the hive mind behavior behind this cyberbullying attack. There was no concern for any person hurt. There was no concern for the misinformation that was being spread. And there was no concern for the very real issue of racism in online spaces.

This was only ever about a group of women getting hurt and, hopefully, getting off the internet altogether.

Why This Matters and What This Means for Art and Society in The Digital Age

If you have gotten this far and you find this article absurd, you should. This much vitriolic hatred, ugliness, and anger over women analyzing and creating media for a romantic pairing in a Hollywood blockbuster is, to put it mildly, overblown. Unfortunately, it’s the reality. And it’s a reality that has even deeper repercussions if not addressed.

I wrote this article not only in a hope to correct the misinformation against a group of women in the Star Wars fandom, but also to address a larger issue of what it means when these hate campaigns are so readily accepted by the general public, by journalists, and by other fans.

The internet will continue to evolve as it already has. It will evolve into an ecosystem that will touch every single moment of our lives. It is a future that will be as brilliant as it will be terrifying and when we are so willing to demonize a group of women with no evidence but a tweet with a lot of likes, it shows that we are not prepared.

We are living in an age where art is being dictated to what a few executives read online, or what a data analyst may write up in a report. We have seen how Disney has made a movie based off of fan service easily found in Reddit threads. We have seen Paramount shift the schedule of an entire film to redesign a character after apparent outrage. We have seen Disney remove James Gunn from a major movie project following a targeted alt-right campaign to get him removed. And we have seen this with Warner Brothers choosing to green light their films using AI.

This pattern is concerning in part because we are willing to create art via algorithm. But, it’s also concerning because, unless these algorithms are properly coded and taught overtime to understand hive mind mentality, the machines that churn social listening data will be regurgitating intelligence corrupted by organized and hateful groups. These groups aim to restrict freedom of speech, diversity, and meaning in our art for the sake of political agendas laking any evidence, any substance, or any valuable goal.

I also wrote this article because it is not only our art that is at risk, but the ways in which we communicate as human beings online. The ability to see individuals — namely women — as inhuman or as less than with no second thought is something we should all understand is a problem. We have a deep inability to question what we see on our Facebook feeds, our Twitter timelines, or in our Instagram photos . We also live in an age where entire governments are being overturned by algorithms and social media ads. We are quick to blame Facebook and Cambridge Analytica and YouTube for this, and yes, while, those platforms have a responsibility of their own, we need to realize that it is our responsibility as well to always question what we see and search for evidence if it is not provided to us.

This example of bullying women in an online community is not necessarily synonymous with political elections, but it still presents yet another moment where people are failing to believe hard evidence over buzz words, sensationalized headlines, and clear, often spelled out agendas.

Until we learn not to react to everything we see, and listen to the people around us who come with facts, this type of behavior will continue, this type of behavior will get worse, and this type of behavior will impact us politically, socially, and culturally as we become more and more integrated as a digital society.

On January 10th, John Boyega posted a video to his Instagram account showing himself mocking tweets by women in the Reylo community. He did not blur out the names. These women were specifically targeted. The event created ~50k tweets continuing to bully women. Media outlets including Forbes, IGN, Cinemablend, Esquire, and The Wrap picked up the story. They all applauded the video.

In response, Reylos trended #reylolove — stories about how women in the community had positively impacted their lives.

They also created a charity event for anti-cyberbullying charity Cybersmile, which you can donate to here.

#star wars #the rise of skywalker #harassing #John Boyega #reylo

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kanima-claws · 4 years

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ʀᴇᴀʟ; ᴀ ᴊᴇʀɪᴄᴀ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ

THEY'RE THREE when Erica plants one on him for the first time. With sticky hands, she grabs a hold of both of his cheeks and plants her lips, wet and coated with strawberry jam right on his. The adults think it's absolutely adorable—Jackson, confused, drops his peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the grass. THEY'RE SIX and playing Peter Pan and Wendy when Erica kisses him for the second time. Jackson absolutely REFUSED to play house, especially if Erica was going to make him be the dog again while she was the rich business woman who didn't need a husband. He's just rescued Wendy, played by Erica, from the clutches of the wretched Captain Hook, played by his giant stuffed bear, Mr. Huggington, by way of an epic sword fight. "Peter, you're my hero!" Erica throws her arms around Jackson's neck and before he knows it, her lips are jammed against the skin of his cheek. He doesn't remember this part of the movie. THEY'RE EIGHT when his world comes crashing down. His parents aren't really his parents. Eight years old is far too young to have an existential crisis, yet here he is, wondering if his parents love him, if anything is real, if his whole life is a lie. It's around eight pm when Erica finds him in Neverland, their shared tree house in his backyard. Their dads spent all day building it, which worked out since they spent all day, every day in it. She doesn't even use her secret pass word (Thimble was hers, his was Acorn) but he doesn't care. Nothing matters anyway. They say nothing for a long time, which is how he likes it. Their legs hang off the edge of the platform. Erica has brought him dinner that his mom made, but he's not hungry and that woman is NOT his mom. But the food smells really good and he's so hungry and sad that he breaks down into tears right then and there. Erica doesn't say anything. The plate is moved aside and she pulls him into her arms, pressing a cool kiss to his cheek. His friends, if they knew, would tell him to wipe it off because cooties but this is is Neverland, a safe space where no one else is allowed, so their opinions don't matter. Nothing matters. THEY'RE TWELVE when he's first introduced to the concept of mistletoe and forced to participate. His head tilts up to look at the plant dangling above their heads. What the big deal again? Why is this plant such a big deal and why is his mother eating this up and trying to take a picture with her camera? "Come on, Jackson," His mother pleads, "Just one peck on the cheek, please!" Erica seems to be growing redder and redder with every passing second. So, to put them both out of their misery, he leans over and places a chaste kiss on the girl's burning cheek. "There," He says with finality before turning back to his brand new drone, "Happy?" The adults eat it up, but Erica is strangely quiet. She doesn't talk to him for the rest of the night. She's not even interested in his new drone that they can use to scout out intruders threatening Neverland (or just spy around the neighbourhood.) Whatever. Girls didn't understand. They never did. THEY'RE THIRTEEN when Erica drags him to audition for some stupid play. He's not even expecting to get in, he's just there for moral support. The next thing he knows, he's wearing a pair of suffocating tights (something he thought he left behind when he stopped dressing up as Peter Pan) and getting ready to kiss Erica on stage in front of the ENTIRE SCHOOL. And their parents. And complete strangers. The costume plus the bright spotlight plus the nerves of it all have Jackson sweating bullets. He's so worried about *kissing Erica without making it weird* that he blanks on his lines. Erica's eyes dart her way and she glances toward him, repeating her line and hoping that he'll act. He doesn't. He's frozen. "What the hell are you doing?" She mutters underneath her breath. "I, uh, I," His mouth flaps open and closed, but he's got no words, "I forgot—" She doesn't even need to know the rest of sentence, evident by her eye roll, "You forgot your lines, of course you did. Just—kiss me, you idiot." "What?" "Kiss me!" Not needed the further prompting, he grabs Erica by the waist, as rehearsed, dips her down and presses his lips to hers. It's a gentle kiss, a lot softer than he expects it to be. The crowd loves it. THEY'RE FOURTEEN when they go to their first REAL party. The kind with no adults and boys and girls playing spin the bottle in someone's basement. Erica sat very close to Jackson during the game, which was kind of cramping his style. He kept scooting away little by little, but she kept scooting closer no matter what. He didn't want anyone to think they were *dating* he had to keep his options open, especially since they were just about to start high school. Erica was his friend, but he didn't want her to be his *girlfriend*. Some kid named Greenberg spins the bottle in the middle of the circle and as it slows to a stop Jackson prays to whatever god is listening that it doesn't land on him. Luckily, his prayers are answered. Instead of landing on him, the neck of the bottle points at a bright red Erica. The group lets out varying whoops and hollers, everyone looking pleased except for Greenberg. "Aw, what! No, I wanna spin again!" Jackson feels his heart drop into his stomach. Out the corner of his eye, he can see Erica's chin trembling. She pulls her sweater sleeves over her hands and places them into her lap. "No, you can't spin again, dumbass," Jackson speaks up, "Those are the rules." "But I don't wanna kiss her," Greenberg insists, "Look at her, she's gonna give me whatever that thing is on her mouth!" That thing was a scab from when she fell during a seizure and it wasn't even on her mouth, it was on her chin. But Greenberg was a fucking idiot with a stupid fucking name, so what did he know? Before Jackson could tell him off, Erica stood and bolted out of the room.As if they were on some kind of sitcom, the group awed with pity as Erica bounded up the steps. Jackson was on his feet before she even hit the second step. "Aw Jackson, you gonna go chase after you girlfriend? I hope she doesn't try to—" Jackson never got to hear what his hope was. As soon as the word "girlfriend" left Greenberg's lips, Jackson was cocking his fist back. His knuckles connected with the other boy's jaw as the basement door slammed shut above them. He found her at Neverland about twenty minutes later, trying to cover up the fact that she was crying. "No one's ever gonna kiss me," She cries as she wiped away tears with her already wet sweater sleeves. "Look at me. I'm almost a freshman and I've never had my first kiss and everyone thinks I'm some kind of freak. I only got invited to this party because of you. No one really likes me, Jax. I'm just...a joke." None of those things are true. She wasn't a joke. HE liked her, even if he did a shit job at showing it. She got invited to the party because he WANTED there and didn't want to go without her, his best friend. He couldn't say any of that though, because by the way Erica's lips parted he knew she was going to go on another rant. Before the first self-depreciating word can exit her mouth, Jackson leans over, his lips capturing hers. He was hoping his first REAL kiss would be with Jenny Alvarez, but as he cups Erica's cheek and melts into her, he's glad it's with her. He realises he'd rather spend all night kissing her than being stuck in Greenberg's mold covered basement with kids pretending to be cool, or drunk, or better than anyone else.

She was as REAL as it got.

@queencfwolves

#☆ » ᴊᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ. | drabbles.#✗ » ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ | erica + jackson #queencfwolves

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theliterateape · 6 years

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"You’ll Never See His Like Again!": Revisiting Comics Legend Stan Lee’s Best, Most Literary (and Vastly Underrated) Story, The Silver Surfer (1978)

By Jarret Keene

Stan “the Man” Lee is dead, but his creations are alive, pouncing across theaters, game screens, and t-shirts with equal parts vitality and sorrow. Today, Spider-Man and Thor and Captain America and Black Panther and so many others dominate our media landscape to a degree unthinkable 40 years ago when my father bought me The Silver Surfer graphic novel from a B. Dalton inside Tampa Bay Mall.

Back then comics (22-page floppies) were relegated to a single spinner rack in mall bookshops, a gimmick to draw kids into the store so their parents felt obliged to pick up garbage Sidney Sheldon’s thriller Bloodline. But The Silver Surfer didn’t fit in a metal rung; instead it was displayed amidst the regular literary trade paperbacks. Today it is vaguely praised on obscure blogs as being among the very first efforts to push comics into the realm of the literary epic during a brutal moment in the history of the comics industry. Staggering inflation, a crushing 1977 (and then a 1978) blizzard, and rising paper costs nearly sank DC Comics. Marvel, though, endured such challenges with Stan Lee’s relentless cheer, his grace under pressure, his courage to always try something new when everyone else cowered, caved.

In the late 1970s, the U.S. continued to fall apart. There was the ongoing energy crisis, serial killers like Ted Bundy lurked in every shadow, the Jonestown mass suicide played out like a dress rehearsal for a larger and more diabolical event, toxic waste burbled in landfills adjacent to pleasant neighborhoods, and Soviet Russia rattled its nuclear saber. You wouldn’t know this from reading Marvel Comics, every issue offering a column called Stan’s Soapbox, wherein Lee waxed passionately, positively, and with the eloquence of a poetry-reading pitchman, about what was forthcoming from “the House of Ideas.”

Today Marvel is an idea-resistant shell of the company Lee built and oversaw, a house of ideology teeming with dour, OMG-chirping social-justice superheroes (gay mutant Iceman, lesbian Latinx warrior America Chavez, Muslim teenager Kamala Khan a.k.a. Ms. Marvel, female cancer-stricken Thor). Instead of debuting new characters, the current editorial team is content to reverse race and flip gender of, and add a dash of disability to, classic characters. In its prime, though—and starting in 1961 with the first issue of Fantastic Four — Marvel excelled at depicting authentic outcasts who felt a fierce responsibility to protect even those who hated them, feared them, wanted them dead. Lee’s characters — which he co-created with Jack Kirby, the artist who visually defined comics for an international audience — didn’t nurture wounds of identity and grievance; they waged their internal battles on a mythic scale. In the same way Oedipus confronted the ignorance of his birth, in the same way petulant Achilles struggled to overcome his narcissism, so did hapless high school reject and science nerd Peter Parker combat his own teenage doubt and ego and feelings of inadequacy.

Amazing Fantasy #15 (1962) containing the debut of Spider-Man, is arguably the single greatest and most important comics story ever written, its 11 pages defining not just the Marvel superhero but also the last half-century of U.S. comics. “With great power comes great responsibility” wasn’t merely an inspirational and moral slogan; it was also a metaphor for American exceptionalism, which could only result in senseless death (like, say, the murder of Peter’s uncle, Ben) if not applied toward just and proper ends. Parker is spoiled, his own worst enemy. He’s a purveyor of fake news, taking photos of himself in action as Spider-Man and selling them to the Daily Bugle to cover the cost of college tuition. We love Parker for his flaws, though, and for his commitment to overcoming them. We cherish his humanity even as we’re thrilled by his brawls with violent predators like Kraven the Hunter, bulky crime boss Kingpin, hideously armed Doctor Octopus.

The Silver Surfer isn’t human like Parker. The Surfer is carved from the “doomed messiah from beyond” mold a la Superman (or Beowulf or Jesus). But he isn’t adopted as a baby and given a Midwest upbringing. He is a silver-skinned alien riding a floating board, arriving on Earth to determine if it’s suitable for his planet-eating master Galactus. Lee and Kirby made a wise choice in never pinning down the exact size of this god of interstellar death, who, like the Surfer, was first introduced in the pages of Fantastic Four #48–50 (1966). That three-part story is a must-read, yes, but then, a decade later, Lee and Kirby collaborated on a 100-page retelling of the Surfer-and-Galactus saga, only this time the superheroes were removed, leaving just the god and his fallen angel. The result is a romantic, philosophical, and artistic statement that outstrips everything else Lee and Kirby collaborated on prior — which is saying a lot. It is also the last major work either of them would produce for Marvel, or for any company thereafter.

Today Marvel is an idea-resistant shell of the company Lee built and oversaw, a house of ideology teeming with dour, OMG-chirping social-justice superheroes

The Silver Surfer was published by arrangement with Fireside Books, an imprint of Simon and Schuster in New York known for publishing a famous chess book. Based on a Kirby sketch, the cover is by artist Earl Norem, known for painting the covers of men’s adventure magazines and more than a few Marvel mags (like Savage Sword of Conan). Indeed, the painted cover gives the book literary gravitas. The interior art is all prime Kirby, with eloquent inks by Joe Sinnott, colors by Glynis Wein (first wife of the late Len Wein, who created Wolverine). The Silver Surfer is a feast for a comics-lover’s eyes; my battered copy still radiates visual power. But it’s the heartbreaking story and dialogue that set this effort apart from anything else in the history of comics and in the bibliography of Lee and Kirby.

Here the protagonist must choose between living forever to serve a devourer of worlds, or else die alongside eight billion earthlings to be rejoined with the obliterated love of his life, lovely and golden Ardina. In The Silver Surfer, Lee gives us a hero who sells his soul to the devil so as to thwart a holocaust and save a populated globe. He only meets a few dozen — many of who attack him physically. But he understands their potential to grow beyond their limitations. It’s not a story in tune with the 1970s, that post-Vietnam, post-JFK, post-Watergate era during which Marvel delivered dark, humorous characters like Ghost Rider. No, this was something else entirely.

The opening splash page is the closed fist of the planet-eater: Behold! The hand of Galactus! Behold! The hand of him who is like unto a god. Behold! The clutch of harnessed power — about to be released! The tone here is elevated, serious, Lee is writing in a style that evokes the Old Testament of the King James. The second page is a splash, too; in it, the mitt of Galactus opens and from it erupts the Surfer, who “streaks through the currents of space — ever-seeking, ever-searching — for he alone is herald to mighty Galactus.” The image is the visual distillation of an artist’s self-confidence, his arrogance. After all, doesn’t every artist believe himself to be God as he manipulates his characters, his images, to suit his imaginative fancy? It’s also a breathtaking rendering of a big bang, or a biblical birth of the universe, without a benevolent designer in control. Here the god of the universe is a destroyer.

The universe seems endless and infinitely alluring to this mysterious star-wanderer, who yearns for his own homeworld, Zenn-La, lost to him forever for reasons Lee doesn’t initially explain, but we presume Galactus ate it.

The Surfer enters the atmosphere of “a verdant sphere” unlike any he’s seen before. Soaring high above the streets of New York, he doesn’t hide from view. He is fascinated by the fear in the eyes of people, noting “how it is always the young who are the first to accept — and to trust.” He sees a woman who reminds him of Shalla Bal, a woman the Surfer loved on his own world. Haunted by her memory, he pursues this woman through the alleyways of Manhattan while imagining a conversation with this Shalla Bal lookalike. We learn that, years ago, the Surfer sacrificed his mortal body to Galactus to save Zenn-La from destruction.

Finally, the woman abandons him to his painful recollections… and then Galactus suddenly appears in a whirlwind of crackling energy, ready to devour Earth.

He congratulates the Surfer on a job well done and articulates in excruciating detail how he plans to sate his appetite: “Here shall I drain the gently rolling seas. Here shall the bountiful land yield to me its gift of life.” It is an impending act of reverse creation, a backward Genesis. But the herald of Galactus isn’t having any of it. When the Surfer fails to convince his master that the price of eight billion souls is too high, he lashes out at Galactus with “the power cosmic,” using it seal the destroyer in a concrete cocoon. It doesn’t hold Galactus for long. Disgusted, the world-eater blasts the Surfer from the sky, cursing the herald to live amidst “the dunghills of man” for a spell in order to ponder his mistake. Then Galactus disappears.

The Surfer recovers from his fall, then disguises himself by altering his appearance to resemble a male fashion model from a billboard. He wanders the city with admiration for its denizens until muggers approach him in Central Park. The Surfer shoos them away with a pyrotechnical display, then pledges to walk around without hiding his identity; concealment did nothing for him anyway. Meanwhile, we witness Galactus gorging on a planet in another solar system. Sated, his thoughts turn toward his missing herald. What can Galactus do to make the Surfer submit? The world-eater’s counsel, a sniveling Master of Guile, advises Galactus to provide the Surfer — our alien Adam — with an Eve, someone to betray the Surfer’s heart.

And so beautiful Ardina enters the picture. She sneaks the instantly smitten Surfer beyond Earth’s atmosphere, and they share in the pleasures of the spaceways. Floating now on a patch of green ringed with bright flowers in a neighboring galaxy, our hero is tempted to give up his standoff with Galactus. In the same way Dido tempted Aeneas to give up his destiny to found Rome, so does Ardina begin to entice the Surfer to submit to her — and by extension Galactus. He refuses, says he’s willing to die to save Earth, and so Ardina leads the Surfer on a journey into human darkness. “You will perish for a worthless cause,” she warns. She shows him “brutal images, a morbid montage of heart-rending scenes filled with carnage and strife.” Domestic violence. A child killed by a hit-and-run driver. A mass execution. Bombed ruins of a once-thriving city. The Surfer is jarred but not dissuaded.

And then something interesting happens: Ardina, designed to coldly seduce the Surfer to make him betray his convictions, ends up feeling a warm love for him.

So much so that when the Surfer, driven mad from having set foot inside a suburban home where the walls seem to be closing on him:

The ceiling — almost touching my head! No room to move! No place to soar! I see no sun — no sky — no endless reaches of rolling space! Wherever I face — wherever I turn — I am surrounded by smothering objects! Shelves and books! Pictures, clocks, and lamps! Chairs and drapes and shuttered windows! But where is the sky? Where is the cold, crisp touch of rolling space? Where are the hills, the seas, the nourishing stars in endless profusion? Without them I perish!

Interestingly, the aspect of humankind that nearly causes the Surfer to surrender his mission is man’s stultifying existence inside tract-housing boxes.

Troubled by the experience, the Surfer races to escape Earth’s atmosphere. Riding bitch, Ardina screams: “The barrier! You have forgotten the barrier!”

The Surfer falls to Earth while Ardina re-materializes before Galactus inside his giant space vehicle. She admits she has failed. She confesses her love for the Surfer. Displeased, Galactus recalibrates her cloned body for one last mission. A mission that involves shattering the Surfer’s heart.

Meanwhile, the Surfer continues to be attacked by various humans. He is shot at, shackled and hammer-smashed, then the U.S. military blasts him with an ultra-sonic cannon, which nearly kills him. Ardina consoles him for a moment, kisses him, telling the Surfer she is with him and by his side, even after death. Which is when Galactus dissolves her into dead particles using a matrix-drone.

Now Galactus asks the Surfer to again join him in scouting the universe for other edible planets. It’s the only way Earth can be saved. The command is agonizing, for what Galactus offers is a living hell. To save Earth, the Surfer must cast off death, the ultimate escape and the one chance he has at being reunited with Ardina. But as the Surfer himself says: “Never was there a choice!”

The curse of immortality at the cost of true love is a familiar idea in ancient epics. The sea nymph Calypso offered Odysseus eternal life, but he refused it in order to be with his wife Penelope. But the Surfer has no options; he can’t be selfish enough to die and thus doom the Earth. What makes him a hero is his refusal to surrender and his willingness to embrace the agony of existence, of enslavement. He must deny himself every exit for humans to live on until they hopefully change themselves for the better. They must have a chance; the Surfer and Galactus give them one.

The Surfer returns to the gauntlet of Galactus, disappearing within the destroyer’s fist.

✶

In this story, there is no Fantastic Four. No cameo appearances by Lee and Kirby. No clever narrative captions. Just the purest narrative of a hero fighting for an ideal, for the steadfast belief in our ability to one day rise above our petty evils, our arrogance and wrath. Lee wrote so many masterpieces of comics literature, but this one is his best because it best speaks to the principle he and his characters lived by: Never succumb to nihilism and despair. Never forget that we are similar in our anxieties and weaknesses, and that our individual identities matter less than our collective aspiration to improve our world and the lives of the people who inhabit it.

It’s a moral stance that today remains obscured by Internet social-justice frothing and the political insanity of being ruled by a reality-TV star. But the embers of Lee’s views are there for anyone to ignite and carry forward. Make no mistake: the world is poorer now without Lee. As the blurb on The Silver Surfer ’s back cover announces: “You will never see his like again!” We can, however, always see Lee’s passion and his love for humanity — for life! — in the work he and Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko and others left for us to enjoy.

Lee didn’t need to die for our sins. He endures, and so will we.

Never was there a choice.

Jarret Keene is an assistant professor in residence in the English Department at UNLV, where he teaches creative writing and ancient and medieval literature. His fiction, essays and verse have appeared in literary journals such as New England Review, Carolina Quarterly, and the Southeast Review. He is the author of several books and editor of acclaimed short-fiction anthologies. He is currently working on a critical biography of comic book legend Jack Kirby.

#Stan Lee #Silver Surfer #Marvel Comics #Comics as literature #Silver Surfer First Appearance

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shikai-the-storyteller · 6 years

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Cyberverse watch! Episodes 1-10

EPISODE 1

Bee you are ADORABLE

The cartoons always seem to start off in the middle of a desert huh

Lmao this is mean but imagine if bee missed the ju-- OH NO I WAS JUST KIDDING BEE

BUMBLEBEE IM SO SORRY I WAS JUST KIDDING, I SHOULDN”T HAVE MADE THAT JOKE

Gosh I’m so glad Windblade seems like one of the main three, like, she’s one of the main people in the intro and everything

Oh man we’re getting right into the bakstory huh

THERE”S TINY PERCY

“We couldn’t be sure if it’d actually work” Windblade says as she jumps through it without any concern or sense of self-preservation

AW SHE HUGGED BEE Windblade is so cute

IS THAT...SKYWARP

It’s so hard to tell the seekers apart

AW MAN I LOVE WINDBLADE’S SWORD And I love that her wings are retractable that’s so cool

STINGER that’s a new ability for ol’ Bee

OH THAT”S THUNDERCRACKER alrighty, sorry bud, I always think you should be green for some reason

JEEZ LOUISE WINDBLADE THAT CORTICAL PSYCHIC PATCH

I wonder if Windblade is still a Cityspeaker in this show :O

oh ANNNND THAT”S THE END OF THAT EPISODE man I forgot they were only 11 minutes. Alright, what the heck, let’s do some more

EPISODE 2

Alright I’m pretty sure that pretty purple seeker isn’t Skywarp but idk what her name is yet

Aw grumpy Bee is cute

HER FANS JUST FLEW OFF???? WE’RE JUST PLAYING FAST AND LOOSE WITH THESE DESIGNS HUH I gotta say I’m a fan

“I’m going to create a distraction while you--” *camera zooms out to show Bee’s wandered off* I LOVE THEM

Yeah Windblade may not be a Cityspeaker in this series but she’s definitely a babysitter lmao, poor gal

OH SHE IS A CITYSPEAKER THAT”S AWESOME I wasn’t sure if they’d keep that part of her backstory :’) I’m so glad

Awww they hugged again :’)))) Windblade and Bee’s friendship is so cute!!

AAWW AND AGAIN!!! GOSH I LOVE THEM “We were friends once” “We still are” WEEPS!!!!

EPISODE 3

Windblade: BUMBLEBEE STOP DRIVING SO BADLY IM TRYING TO MONOLOGUE

Windblade: I’m going to plug into your brain with this cortical psychic patch and access your memories Bumblebee: I don’t believe this woman’s ever gone to medical school

Lmao way to sum things up Bee

TRIFORCE CUBE ALLSPARK

I wonder if the Allspark swallowed up / locked away his memories AH and as soon as I started typing that some weird glowing stuff started happening lmao

Ah and there’s Starscream, the dork

Man had Saling not warned me about Peter Cullen not voicing Optimus I would’ve been totally caught off-guard by that. Man, I hope Mr. Cullen is doing ok

I DON”T KNOW WHY BUT MEGATRON SAYING “AHAHA OPTIMUS PRIME” MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD

STARSCREAM TOOK OFF HIS WINGS AND THREW THEM WTF

LMAO SHE JUST TRIPPED HIM OFF A LEDGE #Get rekt Starscream

SCARY LADY WHO THE HECK IS THAT

SOUNDWAVE

MY BOY!!! IT”S HIM THERE HE IS!!! I JUST GASPED

SOUNDWAVE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! YOU”RE DOING SO GOOD

OH MAN AND HE CAN TALK???? SOUNDWAVE BABY BOY!!!!!

OUCH poor Optimus

Optimus: Good thing I was a pitcher in my middle school’s football league *chucks Allspark through the space bridge*

EPISODE 4

That Allspark looks so much like a dice....I wonder what would happen if they rolled a nat 20 on it lmao

GRIMLOCK??????

WHEELJACK?????

lmao wheeljack looks like such a dork I love him

OH MY GOSH IS THAT CHROMIA??? SCREW THESE GUYS, THERE”S MY GIRL!!!!

Lmao I love that Windblade’s essentially “Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories”-ing Bee’s memories

Optimus: Meet back here in 20 astrocycles Grimlock: Sure thing! *whispers to bee* What the heck is an astrocycle Bee: *Shrugs*

Bee: I don’t know, but this place is the pits I LOVE HIM?????

It’s so weird hearing “intellectual” Grimlock lmaooo

Bee: *grumbles* Optimus would’ve thought that was a funny joke YOU ARE PRECIOUS

Optimus: Bee, watch your footing, the ground is starting to shake Bee: Thank you for that wonderful observation, Captain Obvious

Those bugs are making such cute sounds as they attack them that’s so cute

Aw Optimus, you’re such a good guy, what a sweetheart

Dang, they have a lot of autobots on that ship

UH THEY SHOULD LEAVE AT LEAST ONE PERSON AWAKE

EPISODE 5

Aw man the snow and mountain background in this episode look so pretty

WHY IS BEE HOLDING A GOAT SO CUTE

Bee: They were very kind. They took me in as one of their own WHY! ARE! YOU! SO! PRECIOUS!!!!!

Windblade: You want a what? What is a food processor? THEY”RE SO CUTE!!! GOSH I LOVE THEM

oh man the backgrounds on this show are absolutely beautiful

Man, you know what it’s so frickin cool that Windblade’s essentially the main character of the show (plus Bee, but mostly her) :’)

“I thought they left all the useless bots on Cybertron” “Clearly not, if you’re here” OH SNAP

Bee’s just sitting on the ship watching bad human TV while Windblade’s off risking her life lmao, I love him

Slipstream is such a moron, why would you throw a flier off a CLIFF

SHE”S A FLIER

I love how Windblade says “Ugh, I was attacked” as if it’s just an inconvenience and not a huge deal

EPISODE 6

OHHH IS THIS GLADIATOR MEGATRON

YEAHHHH IT IS

AHHHHHH BEE HIGH-FIVED SHOCKWAVE, THAT”S SO CUTE I was wondering what the context was behind that

OH MAN THERE’S ARCEE AND RATCHET

AHHH AND THERE”S SOUNDWAVE They’re all standing beside him!

MEGATRON JUST SAID “TIL ALL ARE ONE” IM CRACKING UP

Optimus: I do not intend to start a fight Bee: What if he doesn’t listen? Optimus: He will listen to me 8′((((( and so it begins </3

Lmao also: Optimus: I don’t intend to start a fight Optimus two seconds later: *chucks a bot*

OH MAN SHOCKWAVE LOOKS SO INTIMIDATING I LOVE THAT

“The file clerk is here to air his grievances” OHH it’s interesting to see what sort of backstory they’re giving Optimus in this universe

Megatron: You are wasting your time Optimus: It is never a waste of time to speak to an old friend I AM CLUTCHING MY CHEST, YOU GUYS ARE KILLING ME RN

GOSH THIS IS THE MOST DRAMATIC BREAKUP EVER THIS IS KILLING ME IM SO SAD

That one lady Decepticon: *grabs onto Bee and flips him over her head* Me: *CONFLICTED HEART EYE EMOJI????*

SOUNDWAVE!!! IM LOVE YOU!!!! I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!

GOSH I AM RENDERED INCAPABLE OF COHERENT THOUGHT OR SPEECH WHEN HE COMES ONSCREEN

Bee: Megatron may have torn out my voicebox, but he can’t keep me from talking. I love to talk! Talk talk talk talk.... Windblade: *laughs* Shut up! *weeps into my hands* This friendship is so wholesome

EPISODE 7

AW Decepticon ships have pong on their ships that’s adorable

What is the deal with this cube...is it a person....

AW IS THIS THEIR FIRST MEETING, THAT”S SO ADORABLE, gosh, what a dorky way for Windblade and Bee to meet

IT”S A SPORT OH MY GOSHHHH that’s amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any sort of Cybertronian sports, that’s so cool! I always wondered what kind of sports / games they’d be into

lmao Starscream is so unimpressed with Windblade for liking the game

Ahh Windblade’s taller than him! That’s so cool!

LMAO Bee: You seem different. You’re not like other jets

GOSH THIS EPISODE IS LITERALLY MEAN GIRLS BUT WITH GIANT ROBOTS THIS IS HILARIOUS

Lmao yeah Starsream, because no one’s going to notice the cube is suddenly red instead of blue

AW NEITHER OF THEM REMEMBER HOW TO PLAY CUBE that’s adorable

EPISODE 8

Ugh, there really aren’t any good places to watch episode 8 so I’m watching it all broken up

YO VELOCITRON EXISTS IN THIS UNIVERSE NICEEEE It’s so cool seeing the colony planets!!

YO VELOCITRON LOOKS SO C

OH MY GOSH THERE’S HOT ROD!!!! I LOVE HIM OH MY GOSH BLURR IS HERE TOO!!!!

HOT ROD!!!! RODDY!!! YOU SOUND SO CUTE I LOVE YOU!!!!

Wait wtf is that evil wheeljack??? WHO IS THAT oh wait Plague of Rust??? that doesn’t sound great

“HOT DOG”

I really like Bee’s voice ahhhh he got such a great voice actor

Hot Rod and Blurr’s banter is so fun, that’s really great, and Bee’s like an excitable little kid!!! I love him!!!!

Blurr you stupid twunk, you gotta get out of there THAT RUST IS SPREADING SO FAST

OH NO HIS WHEEL GOT SOME RUST ON IT

OH SHOOT THEY’RE REALLY GONNA KILL BLURR HUH

DANG DUDE WELL OK THEN

EPISODE 9

Nicccce good friends sparring

WHO IS THIS CREEPY MULTIPLE EYED GIRL oh her name is Shadow Striker

*MEANINGFUL SILENCE AT THE WAY THEY STRUNG OPTIMUS UP*

“Ugh, I don’t even like being alone in the room with him” “I don’t like being left alone with you!” LMAO

Bee is so cute, he’s trying to psych himself up

LMAO THE GUARDS ARE TALKING ABOUT THEIR PREFERENCES AND THEIR BOSS that’s so cute what losers

AW MAN I thought Bumblebee was gonna hug Optimus that would’ve been cute

There’s so many seekers in this series!

Man I wasn’t sure what I’d think of Cyberverse but I’m really enjoying myself! It’s such a cute heartwarming show!

...I say, right as Shadow Striker attempts to do a murder / suicide thing with Bumblebee

“What’s your problem with me?!” I MEAN YOU DID BLOW HER UP BUMBLEBEE, CAN YOU BLAME HER FOR BEING MAD

EPISODE 10

Epic space battle!

BEE YOU DON”T HAVE A SPACE-FARING ALT MODE WHAT ARE YOU DOING

MACCADAMS

THAT”S...DEFINITELY NOT HOW I THOUGHT THAT WAS PRONOUNCED

RIP buff Rung theory, you will be sorely missed

RATCHET!!! GOSH HE DOES SOUND LIKE A WEIRD NEW YORKER that’s an interesting take on his voice! I wonder how they decided on that

SOUNDWAVE!!! SOUNDWAVE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I WOULD DIE FOR YOU!!! AND HE EVEN HAS BACKUP DANCERS!!! Of course the crowd is going wild for him

AW MEGATRON AND OPTIMUS *whispers* datenight

WHEELJACK AND SHOCKWAVE AW THAT”S SO CUTE They’re both dorky science nerds / proud papas to the shocklets and OH MY GOSH DID SHOCKWAVE JUST LAUGH THAT”S SO CUTE

Gosh I love seeing the bots talking about sports that’s adorable

MACCADAM IS TALKING ABOUT THE FUTURE goshhh. I still see buff Rung but actually getting to meet Maccadam is pretty neat

DEADLOCK AHHH aw he’s so timid!! I love him :’)

CHROMIA!!! I LOVE HER!!! And aww she’s making the same argument she does in the comic

OH NO DEADLOCK POOR GUY what a sweetheart, he’s just out here doing his best

YOOOO MACCADAM THAT”S SICK AS HELL, IM SCREAMING

THIS DUDE DEFINITELY TAKES AFTER HIS PAPA RUNG

I need to draw Mac and Rung together, I NEED to see them hanging out

“To friendship” AW THAT”S SO PRECIOUS GOSHHHH

I CAN”T WAIT TO SEE MORE OF THIS SHOW I LOVE IT

#i talk #primordial robot hell #I'm watching Transformers #cyberverse spoiler #Idk if I need to tag for that #MAN I WENT FROM ''hmm this show seems nice'' to ''THIS IS THE CUTEST THING EVER''#I'm watching Cyberverse

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thechocobros · 6 years

Text

“SEE LUNA SAFE TO ALTISSIA” - EPILOGUE

Pair: Nyx Ulric / Lunafreya Nox Fleuret

Words: 2617

@nyxulricweek , Day #7: “As long as I have strength in my body…”

Rating: Mature (not NSFW though)

Plot: Luna and Nyx didn’t fell in the Empire’s trap, Nyx didn’t had to use the ring and he survived. What would have happened if Nyx really had the chance to ‘see Luna safe to Altissia’, like he promised to Regis?

Personal Comment: This is it. This is the end. What can I say? Just ... Thank you. One year long journey on this fic. Thank you. Thank you really :”) and thanks to @loveiscosmicsin, my editor in all this <3

Sometimes Nyx wondered how he managed to survive when so many of his loved ones didn’t. Selena, Crowe, Pelna, comrades in arms in the Kingsglaive, and countless civilians… They all deserved life, even more than him, and yet, they were not alive when the fog of the battle dissipated. He was. He shouldn’t have. He challenged fate so many times it was mathematically unbelievable that he emerged unscathed.

For what, anyway? Maybe there was no specific reason. Good people were rise to shine in the spotlight and good people burn out like candles when it’s their time. After all, it’s just the circle of life. For now, it was not his time to join them.

And yet… He wanted to believe there was a reason he’s still here. If everything he had done was worth it in the end. The victory of survival rang hollow when he could do nothing to honor the memory of those who led him there. What came next would be entirely up to him. A purpose, drive, meaning, anything to clutch and lean toward until he found answers. He knew just the person for that.

Nyx searched for them in Luna’s pretty eyes, now so meditative and relaxed, gaze settled on his figure. Usually so blue, they were shining with the colors of the sunset across the distance. They look also a bit sad, distant, even, it did strike a chord of alarm within him and reasonably so. She was seated on the grass, casually caressing the marks on his neck left by the fight in Altissia. Was she contemplating over how she was still alive, too? If she did, Nyx hoped to be her reason to live, as she was his.

"We should head back, my captain. Ravus must be looking for us," she whispered, sweetly as warmth glowed her cheeks. Like the beautiful paradox she was, she didn’t even rush to stop the caress, nor made no movement that matched her words. She just kept sweeping her fingers through his hair, lingering on his braids, and thoughtfully tracing them.

“My captain,” he repeated, taken back by the title she chose to address him with. Well, what he attained. After all, he was gained the title of captain in Tenebrae’s Army, cooperating strictly with Cor Leonis, the captain of Insomnia’s Royal Guards and Kingsglaive, or what was left of it. In fact, these two captains had been preoccupied with the combined powers of Tenebrae and Lucis. Somehow, they ran across soldiers from the more distant corners of Eos. Being granted the rank in recognition of the valor and sacrifices he’s demonstrated looked pretty on paper, but the reason behind his unforeseeable promotion was simply…

“I’m a Captain just because I’m your husband. Damn, didn’t see that there were perks to our marriage besides seeing you, beautiful.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like to be called like that. It suits you, hero.”

She was calm and serene saying it now, but when she assigned him the position at the beginning, she had her doubts. Firstly, she didn’t intend to place such a burden on his shoulders only because they impulsively wedded back when they thought they had no future. Secondly, because administrating Eos’ armies after all what happened would have kept him so busy. And yes, she missed him every time they were apart. During their long and epic journey from Insomnia to Altissia, she got so used in having him at her very side all along that now, waking up without him felt like being deprived of an arm or leg.

But this temporary aversion aside, Nyx had been amazing so far: he had managed to come back to her almost every day, even if exhausted, he always found time for her. No matter the world’s crisis, he wouldn’t ever have renounced to those special moments with her.

“Then I’ll call you ‘my queen’."

"Technically, you couldn’t, since Ravus is the King, which puts me as your humble princess."

"Why can everyone call you ‘Queen’ but me?” Nyx groused, pretending to be outraged.

Luna giggled in response, leaning on him a bit. “Masses don’t care for logic, they just need new deities to worship now that the Astrals are gone. They also have in mind my mother’s example, and they want to give me the same title of Queen Oracle. You’re not like that, my darling. You do understand the difference, don’t you?”

“I do… Princess. It’s just a waste. You’d look amazing as a queen.” Nyx sighed, acknowledging one more time how Luna was good with words, kind of manipulating him to do whatever she wanted him to. Even over small things.

So that was what they were now.

He was the captain of a bigger army than he could handle, she was the guiding liberator, the light and the balance in a post-apocalyptic world swallowed by chaos.

After Noctis’ disappearance inside the Crystal, the small group of people who was aware of what really happened reacted with spontaneity and an organized intelligence. To face the emergency, Ravus and Aranea—the only two heroes who were part of the imperial army already—dominated control of the dying Empire. The emperor made deceased somehow by the hand of Izunia anyway, so it was enough to occupy the vacant throne, to proclaim themselves rulers and to command the remaining troops to surrender to the new government and the ‘coup d'etat’ was done. The evil Empire had fallen, its twisted games were overthrown. To be honest, neither of them thought that taking over the world would have been so easy.

But if getting on top of Eos had been unexpectedly quick and simple, taking care of it challenged them further.

Claustra, as Accordo’s First Secretary, stepped forward to the powers afforded with her office and mandated that all the world’s survivors seek refuge at safe havens. Ravus and Aranea agreed this was a priority since everyone started to realize that Izunia was still alive, Darkness would fall upon them soon.

Now was not the time to rebuild Eos. Not yet. They got to be prepared for the worse was yet to come.

So, they asked Luna to have an inspirational speech as soon as possible, to inform everyone about what was about to happen. She did as she was requested for Eos’s sake. There, they announced that Lestallum would be the only haven. Following their beloved Oracle’s behest, masses started to flood the city. To aid their journey to the bustling haven and as her mother did before her, Luna enchanted the glowing havens positioned along the way where many offered words of gratitude for the Oracle’s steadfast guidance and wishes for their safety.

Lodgings and the seemingly vast perimeters in Lestallum shrink with passing day.

Libertus was with them. After all that happened, his chubby face was a call from a very distant memory. A bittersweet memory made of the scattered images of their home in Galahd, then Niflheim’s attack, their survival, and then the cruel fights in the Kingsglaive, street life in the slums of Insomnia …. Seeing him again was better than anything Nyx could’ve wished for. Such was the joy that the new Tenebrae Captain delayed all his appointments to spend a night in a bar of Lestallum with his friend, drinking beer and eating cup noodles. He had a lot to tell and six hours were barely enough for them to catch up on each other’s adventures. They both agreed that even if their lives changed so drastically, they would have kept their dreams alive. They promised to return back to Galahd one day and rebuild it from the ground up. When the King set all things right again, they would have had the time and the disposition for doing so.

However, if going back and forth from Lestallum to Tenebrae meant for Nyx at least some moments of happiness in seeing the old friend, for Luna it was not the same. The idea of leaving her homeland for an unspecified time distressed her a lot more than expected. It was not easy to accept that running away was their only option especially after all they done to grant the light. She knew it was temporary and that the King would have come back… And yet, she couldn’t help but watching the news with sad eyes and heavy heart.

And now… Now it was her turn. She was the next one to get ready to leave her own homeland.

"How’re you feeling?” Nyx took Lunafreya’s hand, stopping her caresses. He kissed her fingers with his dry lips. “You ready?" Luna hesitated at the question. She didn’t want to lie so she just waited for his intuition to pick up the cue. "I’m sorry, Lunafreya."

Luna forced herself to take her eyes off him and contemplate the view around them. It was somewhat painful. She just didn’t want to believe that there was another farewell to her homeland. The sylleblossoms field they were resting on smelled like grass, earth, and flowers, and it was soft. Being the perfect picture frame for the buildings in the distance, it impressed an indelible memory in her head. It was the perfect place to have some rest, glowing like that at the last rays of the sunset… yes, the sunset. It was just 1 AM. The days were growing shorter and shorter.

"I will be fine.” Her voice tried to be strong, but Nyx understood the sadness beyond it, as expected.

“I’m sorry, Lunafreya. I know you don’t want to leave but we have no other choice” he repeated, sitting next to her and pulling her close, driven by the sudden need to comfort her. She initially tried to avoid it, like she wanted to deny her actual distress. But when Nyx insisted, she just let herself go, and literally melt in his embrace. She didn’t cry though. She was tired of crying. “I lost you once and I can’t risk letting it happen again. Daemons get closer to the palace every passing day and we can’t push them away anymore."

“…Noctis will settle this.”

"He will. But in the meantime, it’s my job to protect you. For as long as I have strength in my body. Like it has always been. Like it will always be."

Nyx kissed her eyes, pressing her breasts against his chest. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, protected by each other’s warmth from the breeze, and in the meantime Luna’s eyes wondered on the landscape. In that moment of calm, when she felt of belonging to that position, Luna let herself get lost in the memories of their incredible journey.

They went through so much …

“Remember the first night we talked at the ceremony’s eve, next to the aquarium?” she asked. He smiled.

“How could I forget the first time you dragged me into troubles and almost got me fired?”

“Just appreciate the prize you won taking that risk.”

Nyx couldn’t argue with that: because of her, he stepped into an insane journey made of horrifying revelations and difficult trials, but also made of laughter, electric emotions, and soft complicity. From the very first time their eyes met, Nyx and Luna got involved into a crazy spiral of events that brought them closer and closer. Now, their existences were entwined. He really couldn’t complain about it.

What a joke of destiny their entire life seemed right now, Nyx thought. No, no destiny. It had been their choice, from the beginning to the end. If he had the chance to go back in time, he would have done it all over again, exactly in the same way.

"You’re right.” Nyx smirked, deciding in that very moment to warm things up a bit. He raised his eyebrows and moved the hands from her shoulders to her legs, grabbing them tight. “Who would have thought I would have been able to put my hands on such a princess?” he whispered, trying to get as seductive as he could. He wondered what effect he would have sorted and didn’t need to wait to find out. Luna immediately blushed hard and gasped. After months of marriage, she still wasn’t used to him getting sensual and this constantly caused Nyx to laugh. He thought it was funny - and irresistible - the way she looked like an untouched maiden every time he got closer. That was one of her best lies, of course, because she was everything but innocent and pure and Nyx had many chances to notice.

“Nyx, you should wait until–” Nyx cut her words by kissing her lips, soft and roughly at the same time, pulling her in for the make out session he was always starving for. With her hands exploring his chest and his neck, he felt like healing. And maybe it was true. She was really healing him, on so many levels.

He moaned, letting her hands taking care of the marks of the Ring on his skin. He felt light sneaking in his veins, replacing the darkness that the ring branded him with. They would have had this forever, probably. His own light had been the price for using a power that was not his to have. But Luna had enough light to share and it would have kept him alive for a very long time.

So, forgetting the past, all that Nyx thought of now was tasting her with his lips. Her jaw, her soft neck, her delicate shoulder. Teasing her was so pleasant. He pulled her closer, in the attempt to wear her like a second skin.

“I’m not good at waiting,” he justified himself, inhaling her sweet perfume.

Luna leaned back, trying to catch a breath and say something but Nyx reclaimed her lips back immediately, making hard for her to think straight. The girl could only settle herself against his body, gently cupping his cheeks.

“Wrong. You’re good at everything.”

“Flattery gets you anywhere.” He replied trying to kiss her again, but Luna was ready to prove him wrong. She pulled back with more decision, standing on her feet and smirking. Nyx sighed, in sign of surrender. He never had a chance against her anyway. She was a princess, used to being in command, stubborn enough to not changing her mind after she decided something.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go back to the castle” he snapped his tongue. He was about to add “for the last night” and even if he didn’t, Luna seemed to sense the unspoken words in the air.

Her face immediately turned from cheeky to sad again. So, Nyx stood up and lifted her chin.

“I know. Not the happy ending you expected."

Luna shook her head, holding to his hand.

"It is happy, in a sense. Bittersweet would best describe it, but far from… an ending.”

Nyx looked for something appropriate to say and settled with, “Maybe it’s better that way. I don’t like endings anyway. I like life. I like the journey. And we’ll keep having ours together.” Luna seemed puzzled by his words for a moment, then smiled. Nyx’s eyes sweetened in watching her. “As long as I have strength in my body… I’ll fight for the future, ours, and the entire world’s. So, we’re gonna have a happy ending, Lunafreya. But not for now. Now we can enjoy our happy journey.”

Luna’s smile enlarged in his hand caressing her. Suddenly, Nyx was certain he never saw something brighter.

Putting her arms around his neck and standing on the tips of her toes, she whispered, “Yes.”

And they headed back to the palace, ready to face whatever it was about to come.

#nyx ulric #lunafreya nox fleuret #final fantasy xv #lunyx #see luna safe to altissia #obina writes and this is weird

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dearlazerbunny · 6 years

Text

Blue Bottle Beer; Ch. 6 of 11

“You know, I would help, but making fun of you is so much more satisfying.” / Look at this, ACTION ROLL! They’ll never see it coming!” Poe Dameron x Reader; 1100 words

Requested Tags: @agirlinherhead

Based on this list of prompts. Click HERE for Chapter 7.

It took you a week to call him.

Oh, you wanted to call him long before that. That night at D’Qar, he walked you home again, and you wanted to invite him in right then and there. Maybe for a drink. Maybe for a chat. Maybe for something more. Definitely for something more.

But you were getting ahead of yourself.

When you finally did call, and set up a date, you did nothing but fret about it. You wished you had someone to talk to about it, but you’d barely met anyone in this new city. You and Jess had exchanged numbers, and Rey, sweet as she was, had offered to show you around, but you weren’t going to rant about Poe to Poe’s friends. You had some dignity.

Increasingly less and less when it came to him, though. You eye yourself in the mirror, finally deciding to pull your hair back into a simple ponytail. He hadn’t told you where you were going, so eventually you just threw on something comfortable. Still cute though. And you had used your grocery run to pick up some actual makeup, drugstore brands they may be. The foundation had miraculously matched, and the eyeliner did wonders to make your eyes pop. A little chapstick and some converse finished off the look until you were sitting anxiously on your couch, tapping your foot, just waiting for him to knock on the door.

Knock knock, knnnnock knock knock knock

“You’re a hard girl to find.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You smiled as he leaned against the doorframe in his characteristic leather jacket like he owned the place. “I just wanted to get settled, you know? Before jumping into anything else.”

“And what might you be jumping into, miss Y/N?”

“Well I don’t know,” you teased, grabbing a jacket and your keys, “since you won’t tell me where we’re going!”

“That’s because it’s a super special secret surprise, obviously.”

“Obviously. My bad.”

“Good, you should be sorry.”

“Hey!”

“Nah, I’m just teasing you. Come on, let’s go before it gets too dark.” He grabs your hand and practically pulls you down the stairs, tripping over yourself as you go.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” You laugh as your sneakers catch on the stairs. “Someone’s excited to get somewhere.”

“Mostly excited to get there with you, but yeah, you could say that.”

Hopefully it was too dark outside to see you blush. “Will you just tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope!”

…

“Aaaaand- open!”

You take your hands away from your eyes to reveal a bright, blinking neon sign. ‘Maz’s Arcade’ was highlighted in bold, shining letters against the dark sky.

“An arcade?”

“What? You don’t like arcades?”

“No, no, it’s just… not what I was expecting,” you giggled, noticing the eager look on Poe’s face. “I take it you’ve been here before?”

“Oh yeah, this was like my favorite place in the world when I was a kid.”

“And now, by the look on your face!”

“Second only to D’Qar. After you, milady,” he bows slightly as he opens up the door to the place, beckoning you into a world of clings and clangs, blinking lights and the smell of cotton candy in the air. You pull out your wallet as you approach the token machine but Poe waves it away, pulling out his own from his back pocket. “No, no, put that away. My treat.”

“You sure? I… usually go dutch, on the first date.”

“Then you’ve clearly been going on the wrong dates.” He pulls out a twenty and smooths it out before feeding it into the machine, only to get a klaxon error noise and blinking red light. He takes it out, rubs it on the edge of the machine, and tries again- same result. And again. And again. He’s clearly getting flustered, which is as funny as it is adorable- he looks cute with red cheeks.

“You know, I would help, but making fun of you is so much more satisfying,” you laugh at him, pulling your own twenty out of your wallet and waving it in front of his nose. He snatches it out of the air with a petulant glare. “Fine. But I’m paying you back!”

“Pretty sure you’ve already bought me a hundred dollars of free drinks, Poe, why don’t we just call it even?

“Fine, fine. What’s first? DDR or skeeball?”

“Oh I will kick your ass at skeeball Dameron, you just watch.”

“Challenge accepted.”

…

The two of you leave the machines with a mound of tokens, making your way around the old school games. You win most of them, or he lets you win most of them, but he’s so good natured about it you can’t help but let your competitiveness take a backseat in favor of just enjoying his honest enthusiasm for everything he sees, even the long-forgotten games gathering dust in the corner.

“Oh, man, they still have The Resistance! I thought they’d gotten rid of it! Come on, we have to play it.”

You follow him over to what looks like an old school sim game with pictures of spaceships covering the sides. “What is it?”

“Only the best fighter pilot video game in the history of existence. You’re part of the Resistance, fighting against the First Order baddies in these epic space battles- come on, there’s a two player mode. I’ll show you how to play!”

You grab a control stick and insert your last few coins into the machine. As it roars to life, the glow in Poe’s eyes is infectious, and for the next half hour you two are copilots in space, fighting the good fight against the nazis. He calls out orders to you like a true squadron captain- “look at this, ACTION ROLL! They’ll never see it coming!- and you follow with glee, taking out enemy after enemy until all of a sudden, a huge, pixilated ship in the center of the screen explodes in dramatic fiery fashion.

“Hey, we did it! We beat it! Alright!” You turn to give him a high five but he instead pulls you into a hug, spinning you around until your feet leave the ground. You shriek, wrapping your arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to keep the both of you from tumbling onto the floor.

“Celebration spin!” He spins you once more and then sets you down on your tiptoes, still clutched tight to his chest. His eyes meet yours. Quickly, before you can process what’s happening, he presses his lips to yours. You feel the loss of heat as he pulls away, and immediately want it back. So you kiss him again, victory music still playing from the game behind you, and it felt like the most perfect moment you had ever had in your life.

#star wars #Star Wars fanfic #requests #star wars requests #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you

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strangerstarsandlands · 7 years

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Are you alive? Will you ever write fanfiction again?

Am I alive? Philosophically… arguable. Physically, yes. Here’s a half baked drabble that’s been in my drafts for months. Sorry.

Bernie always fancied herself an explorer. She loved to pour over the old Atlas in her father’s study, the book on the floor and her lying beside it. She mapped out adventures, maiden voyages to far off lands, up winding rivers, and into forbidden coves. Bernie was the captain of the ship, and her brothers were her first mates.

At Christmas, her cousins would come to stay, and they would play her captives. They would huddle together as Bernie tied them to a coat rack with crumpled ribbon from opened presents. Eventually, they would mutiny and escape to the kitchen wearing eye-patches fashioned out of tattered cloth. Their swords were forged from sticks found on the ground in the garden outside. Epic battles were waged in the sitting room, standing atop rickety old chairs. Bed sheets from the upstairs linen closet were the ship’s sails, and small scratches on arms became mortal wounds. The first blood always sparked a frenzy among the children, and a battle to the death would be declared.

“I am the Dread Pirate Berenice! All shall perish!” Bernie screamed the battle cry over and over, until her voice grew hoarse.

Those childhood games were all Bernie dreamt about when she was lying in the hospital bed after the IED hit. How ironic and sad, to be back where she began, only a few miles from her childhood. And unable to walk the distance home.

…

Bernie has never felt so peaceful as when she’s lying beside Serena, hearing Serena slowly breathing in and out. Her greatest happiness is found when the lamplight is dim, and the bed is soft, and when Bernie feels herself slowly drift to sleep.

Love is not how Bernie ever imagined it as a child. She always thought she’d capture a princess, bring her aboard the ship, propose marriage in order to save the princess from marrying the ghastly (and terribly old) King from the neighboring kingdom, get married, and live happily ever after as Pirate Queens.

No, love isn’t quite like that. For one thing, there’s less sword fighting. Almost no sword fighting, in fact, and a lot more talking. But Bernie doesn’t mind because there is also hand holding on quiet, misty mornings when fog skirts the bottoms of trees. Mornings when it’s cold and gloomy and entirely beautiful, and Serena is there, humming as the kettle boils.

Bernie loves to press against her, wrap her hands around Serena and kiss her shoulder. She nuzzles into the hair at the nape of Serena’s neck, still spiky and unkempt from sleep. Serena always hums contentedly and whispers “Good morning,” sighing as Bernie slowly kisses up her neck.

Bernie wasn’t good at love in the beginning. She muttered her way through explanations and declarations of affection. Mumbled and whispered and sometimes kissed in place of a gentle “I love you.” She ran away to a foreign country for a little while, but eventually remembered that she was Berenice, “bearer of victory”, soldier and surgeon and The Dread Pirate Queen of the Sitting Room. She shouldn’t let fear stand in the way of happiness. So she went back and felt brave for the first time in years.

…

When Cameron’s little boy Thomas is finally old enough to hold a stick, Bernie makes him first mate. They sail to India, to Argentina, and twice to Antarctica. Antarctica is Thomas’ favorite.

“There are penguins there,” he squeals, as he clutches his little stuffed penguin. Grandma Serena had bought it for him on a whim on their first trip to the Zoo. It’s his most prized possession and is a constant companion during Pirate Time. Mister Penguin has survived many adventures and is perhaps the bravest of them all, having weathered Ice Cream stains, spaghetti stains, and drool.

Thomas is drooling on him now, as they take their daily afternoon nap in the reading nook by the window. It’s the best seat in the house, with the view of the downs stretching out and away from the lawn.

Bernie treasures the visits with Thomas. She never did get to play pirates with her children, and she is determined to make the most of it, to heal those old wounds. To be better this time.

It’s a peaceful life here. Quiet, and full of love. But Bernie always had a restless spirit, and is still prone to wandering and pulling out maps just to find a place she hasn’t been before. She still leaves on assignments with humanitarian groups, and still disappears for months at a time. She’s never gone for more than three months. That’s the rule Serena came up with, never more than 90 days.

Serena always lets Bernie leave, and Bernie always comes back. She returns from abroad always a little weary and a little older, and always a little more in love with Serena than she was before. She misses the strangest things when she’s gone; noises and smells she hadn’t noticed before. The inside of Serena’s wrist, the smell of her cooking, and the sound of her snoring. The way Serena calms Thomas when he begins to cry, and the way they settle together on the floor near the fire, and listen to the wood quietly crackle.

Bernie inherited the house when her mother died, and Serena had needed a home where Elinor wasn’t everywhere. So they moved into the old place, and brought new life to it. Bernie thinks there must be poetry in it, starting and ending one’s life in the same place. Although this doesn’t feel like an ending. Rather, a new chapter. Or a new book. There’s still sword fighting, and romance, and loss, and adventure. There’s still hope and infinite pleasure in exploring the world and coming back to this place.

There’s still much yet to come. There are dishes in the sink that need to be washed and the south side of the house needs to be repainted. The kitchen door creaks, and they need more wood for the fire. Whenever Serena picks her up from the station, Bernie drives the journey back, just so Serena can look at her the whole way home. The look is a gentle exploration, a tender study, as if Serena is seeing Bernie and knowing her for the first time all over again.

And in the morning, Bernie always wakes to the sound of Serena humming downstairs.

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” T. S. Eliot.

#mine #holby city #holby city fanfic #It's garbage but it's my garbage

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schraubd · 6 years

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Review: The Last Jedi

*Warning: Spoilers* We saw The Last Jedi last night at a theater in Destin, Florida. Apparently, the goyim know about the "see a movie on Christmas trick" (I suppose they all could have been Jews, but we're on the panhandle, so I doubt it). Overall, I thought the movie was very good. But before we go any further, I should probably address the issue that's at the foremost of everyone's mind. To wit: The Last Jedi decisively proves (as if there ever was any doubt) that Poe Dameron is no Wedge Antilles. By my count, Poe's impulsiveness and "I know best" arrogance ends up ruining carefully-laid Resistance plans not once but twice. Losing the bomber squadron may have been forgivable, but Vice Admiral Holdo's escape plan would have worked were it not for the infiltration plot that Poe decided he just had to try. Poe Dameron has the deaths of literally half the Resistance on his hands thanks to that stunt. Okay, that's out of the way. Overall, The Last Jedi is clearly better than The Force Awakens. If the latter was a shot-for-shot remake of A New Hope, the former is an amalgamation of Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. But not only is it different enough from both of these films to not feel derivative in the way The Force Awakens clearly was, focusing on its original-trilogy predecessors distracts from the bigger influence on The Last Jedi: Rogue One. One of Rogue One's greatest strengths was how it started to turn away from the "one true hero whom everything revolves around" tenor of the series, in favor of a narrative equality between main characters and side players. Like Rogue One, this is a grim movie, and not only does not everyone get a happy ending, not everyone even gets a glorious, cinematic ending. In both major revelations and smaller, more subtle moments, The Last Jedi continues to reinforce a refreshingly egalitarian message that to my mind opens up more storytelling potential untethered to the "What are Luke/Han/Leia and/or their children/relatives/secret lovers up to" well. Obviously, the big iteration of this is the strong implication that Rey is, in fact, nobody. Not a child of destiny, not secretly related to the Skywalker clan, just ... a nobody, who happens to be force-attuned. But for me, some of the most powerful moments in the film were where it made clear that every member of the Resistance has a rich inner life and story that (for them at least) is on par to that of any of the main characters. The knowing nod between two starfighter pilots as they prepare to take off -- only for both of them to be vaporized when a proton torpedo enters the hanger bay. The bombardier clutching her necklace charm as she desperately tries to complete what she now knows is a suicide mission (this was an effective scene even without the later revelation that she's another major character's sister). None of these characters "matter" in the grand scheme of the narrative. But people who don't matter, still matter. They have their own lives, motivations, relationships, and personalities, and The Last Jedi does a very good job communicating that throughout the film. What makes these sequences so effective is that they are not emphasized or given any special significance. Most directors don't bother to pay attention to such side players at all, and those that do often revel in accentuating the head fake ("Oh you thought so-and-so was going to be a main character? Surprise! Laser to the face!" Looking at you, Joss Whedon). By playing it straight, The Last Jedi reinforced one of the most powerful narrative themes there can be in a war movie: everybody has a story, everybody has a narrative, and so having a story and a narrative doesn't make you special and doesn't offer any protection. From a fan-boy perspective, I appreciated some of the new tactical permutations that were shown in space combat. Getting to see B-wing bombers was pretty cool, and the "slice open the Star Destroyer by hyping through it" was a neat trick (though if that works, its unclear why the Resistance wouldn't have used it more often as a Kamikaze tactic -- it is a brutally effective way of neutralizing the First Order's capital ship advantage). We can quibble with some details (has nobody invented autopilot yet?), but for the most part I was able to suspend disbelief. Obviously, the newer iterations of Star Wars are light-years ahead of their predecessors in terms of gender equality. A slew of excellent female characters are well presented and fully fleshed out -- and again, what's most important aren't their presence among the leads (Rey and Leia, though they both are fantastic) but as integrated up and down the supporting cast. Plenty of action movies have one or (maybe) two Strong Female Characters surrounded by a sea of indistinguishable dudes. Rarer is the film wherein women are just a normal part of the universe -- occupying mid-level command posts, serving as infantry grunts, working as unremarkable technicians, and so on. The Last Jedi is exceptional along this front, and deserves much credit for it. Overall, The Last Jedi was to my mind the best Star Wars film since the original trilogy. I don't really understand the backlash against it, and I do think it works very well as a strong second act setting up a potentially epic Episode IX. So well done Disney, and well done Rian Johnson. The Force is strong in this one. Assorted bullet thoughts:

Where are all the aliens? If the Resistance and the First Order are finally gender-integrated, the conflict still seems strikingly human-on-human. Aside from Chewbacca, I counted one indeterminate alien starfighter pilot and one Sullustan (apparently Nien Nunb -- his fan club can rest easy). There actually could be something darkly amusing if this huge galactic conflict really was basically an intra-human spat and the other species of the galaxy just didn't care ("Humans ... there they go again"), but that doesn't seem to be the message of the film.

Captain Phasma continues to hold the "Boba Fett character who seems like a total badass even though she actually doesn't really do anything award. The Praetorian Guard certainly made a good run at it, though.

I love the humor in The Last Jedi. All the major laugh moments do it for me, but the one that really killed me was when Rey "reaches out" to grasp the Force. Mark Hamill's eye roll game is on point.

Speaking of, I have mixed feelings towards how Luke is portrayed in the film. I neither love it nor hate it, but I do think that Mark Hamill gives it everything he has. His "brush your shoulder off" move is also on point.

Kylo Ren is turning into a pretty solid villain. It might have been interesting had he succeeded in turning Rey, though. Now that would have been a plot twist nobody would have seen coming.

I appreciate Vice Admiral Holdo is shown to be competent along all dimensions. Again, her escape plan would have worked had Poe not ruined it. And she also seized an opportunity to escape her captivity when it was presented.

Man, Jedi have gotten a lot more powerful in the past few decades. Remember when Yoda could impress us by lifting one starfighter out of a swamp?

via The Debate Link http://ift.tt/2pDXJR1

#movies #reviews #Star Wars

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tinalostgirl · 4 years

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Spaghetti | #polyforchocolate

Who: Tina Cohen-Chang & Noah Duval ( @tapdancingduval )

Where: Noah and Ollie’s Place

When: Wednesday night 9.9.20

What: Bingo - Bondage with Spaghetti + Something Not Rope

Noah had prepared, with Ollie's help, for the scene by buying out the store of all kinds of pasta. He'd cooked it, also with Ollie's help, though luckily it didn't need to be eaten because it probably didn't taste great. He had the different kinds in separate bowls with water to keep them from getting sticky. "Alrighty, sister wife, you ready to get spaghettied? And yes that is now a formal bdsm word. Totally going in the kink dictionary." He winked at her and laughed. There was no reason not to make this as fun as possible.

If this was with anyone else, Tina honestly probably wouldn't have done it. But because it was with Noah, she felt comfortable enough to let this happen. She was dressed in a simple pair of workout clothes, ones she didn't care about making dirty with noodles and past water. She honestly didn't know what to expect, but she was in it for the ride. She laughed at his new addition to the kink dictionary and nodded. "Oh yeah, I'm sure the masses will be using it by Christmas." She was a little nervous but realized she didn't have to be. "I'm as ready as I possibly can be for something as silly as this," she offered with a broad smile.

"Totally. It'll be the new rage." He sat down next to her. "Okay, so here's what I'm thinking. There's literally no way to actually bind someone with pasta. So this is mostly going to just be aesthetic. I think it'll be best if you lay down and I cover you in some spaghetti weaving." He stopped for a moment. "Question... how ticklish are you?"

Tina tried to focus but found it hard to do with the smell of pasta in the air. "Is there pasta we can eat when we're done with all of this?" She asked looking into the kitchen. "No, sorry, focusing. She tried to piece together what he was saying and nodded. "Yes, very ticklish. But sounds good... I didn't actually catch how we're gonna do this, but whatever you want, I'm game. Let's do this."

"Umm, yeah, but I think we should make Ollie cook it for us all. He makes this sauce that literally almost better than sex." He chuckled. "It's ok. I know I kind of always make things too... much huh? Just let me know if it gets overstimulating. We can do some stuff to focus." He laughed again. "I don't really know exactly myself, but I'm down for just going for it if you are." He helped her to lay down on the sheet and blanket he'd laid out. They could be washed pretty easily. Once she was settle he started with the wide egg noodle type of spaghetti laying it in a sort of weaved pattern until it covered her entire abdomen, chest, and arms like a pie. "How does that feel?"

Tina really was lucky that Noah was so understanding when it came to her hyperactivity. "Will do captain, promise." She wasn't exactly sure what she was promising, but she agreed with pretty much everything he was laying on her in the moment, so perhaps it was for everything he suggested. Once she laid back onto the sheet, it was easier to focus. She picked a spot on the ceiling and counted each piece of food that was placed on her body. It's what helped her keep still. Eventually though, she started getting really antsy but tried her hardest not to move. It took a lot of deep breaths. "Can we put on some music or tv or something. I'm starting to lose focus."

She nodded happily. It did feel like she had a certain amount of trust in him and regardless of what they thought about the system and their marks they did know that trust was necessary. Noah saw her body start to wiggle. He now saw the downside of this. Real bondage helped to settle a restless body. This was artificial. "Yeah. Definitely." He reached for the remote and brought it over to her. He pulled the pasta off his hand and put it in it. "There you go. You are in control." He realized that really even with the distraction of the tv she was going to be both overstimulated by the spaghetti and conversely not enough stimulation to keep her mind focused. "Okay. I'm going to work on your feet. This is where the ticklish will come in. But I think I can actually bind your toes with the spaghetti. Think you can hang a little bit longer?"

Tina just smiled when he agreed and clutched onto the remote as tightly as she could once it was placed in her hand. She turned on the music, cause at least then she could close her eyes and sing along. Hopefully something she knew came on. It was on popular radio and a Cardi B song came on. Luckily it was one she knew so she rapped along, trying not to move her body to the beat as her mouth did. "Okay, toes. I'm ready." She wiggled them a lot to get out all the ants before spreading and relaxing them. "Okay now I'm ready promise."

He chuckled as she rapped along with Cardi B. He did his best, but not excellent, beat boxing as he moved down to her feet. Once her little piggies stopped wiggling he took a long string of regular spaghetti and stared wrapping it between her toes. He focused on what he was doing to keep things quick. In and out, in and out around and around. First one foot and then the other. Finally he lifted his hands up. "Okay, you are hard core spaghettied!" He clapped. "Need to get up?"

As he joined her with some beats, Tina nearly ruined it all by jumping forward. But she didn't mess things up too much, instead taking another deep breath and moving just her head instead. "We gotta start a hip hop group," she said in jest. It was a good distraction though, keeping her from thinking about her toes as he wrapped the wet noodles around them. It was also not that bed, besides the few times he touched the bottoms of her feet. "Heeeeee!" She moved her feet back only three times but managed to keep still for the rest of it. Then he was done before she even realized. "Oh, really? That's it? Awesome! You should totes get a picture before I move. I bet it looks crazy. Crazy epic!"

He decided that a picture was a good idea. He did a backward sumersault to get himself within reach of his phone, then shuffled back on his knees. He snapped a couple of pictures of the weave on her stomach and arms, a couple of the spaghetti between her toes and then one of her whole body. "Say spaghetti!" When she did he snapped the pic. "Okay. Ready for some freedom?"

For some reason, Tina was able to keep perfectly still when he snapped the photos of her. Perhaps that was a lifetime of being trained to keep still when there was a camera involved. "Spaghetti!" She yelled with a big grin and posed for the camera one last time. As soon as he said the word freedom, she started with her arms, ripping them away from her body, noodles went flying everywhere. Then she grabbed onto Noah's arm and waited for him to be steady before pulling herself up and kicking the spaghetti off her toes. "Sorry. I can clean all this up. Can I see the pic?"

He looked at the last picture and laughed. Her smile was infectious even covered in pasta. He cracked up as the pasta went flying. Her arm pulling herself up nearly saw him toppling them both down to the ground but soon she was up and at his side, wiggling her toes to free them from the spaghetti. He shook his head. "No way. That's my job. You look at these..." He handed her the camera. "And I'll clean up." Astrid had escaped from the bedroom and was happily snacking on noodles. "Hey you. That's no for kitties." He brought her to the kitchen and gave her a treat and then returned to scoop up the mess. It was actually pretty easy to clean up. The pasta stuck to itself and clumped together. When that was all scooped up to a bowl he brought that to the garbage and then returned for the blanket and sheet. Those went to the laundry hamper before he settled next to her. "It's cute. But that might just be you."

Tina wasn't about to argue. She took his phone and flopped back onto the couch, looking at the couple of photos he snapped of her. It didn't look at all like what she imagined. She thought of a big wet mess with noodles mixed in, but when she could actually see the intricacies of the patterns, she was kind of in awe. When he finally settled next to him, she moved in closer and laid her head on his shoulder. "This looks awesome. And that wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be. You're really good at that, you know? Helping me regulate my hyperactivity."

He loved that they already had an easiness with each other. He feels like they've been friends forever. He looked at the pictures and though his critical mind which is always on overdrive wants to point out all the mistakes and flaws, it really does look a lot better than you'd think. "I've been working on my bondage. Might be the kink that saves us when we face the Heads for a claim approval, you know." He smiled, glad that he'd helped. "I hope you don't mind, but I've been doing some reading. Want to help if I can."

Tina scrunched her nose at the thought of Noah and Ollie having to go up against the heads, but of everyone at the school, she wanted happiness and freedom for them more than anyone else. "I hope it saves you, I really do." She breathed out a puff of air then wrapped her arms around his. "I don't mind, it means a lot to me that you did that. So thanks. This was a success. Thanks, sister-wife."

#bingo20 #( bingo 2020 )#noah #para: noah #para: spaghetti #( poly for chocolate )

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bloomsoftly · 7 years

Note

Kiss prompts, #8, Ironshock. You're the best!

Well, this is officially the longest one. many thanks to @paranoidwino for making sure my Tony was up to par. ❤️❤️❤️

Darcy was embarrassed to admit it, but she was probably the last person in the Tower to know. Sure, she’d noticed that he seemed to be calling her into his workshop more and more. It was always “Hold this, Double D,” or “Help me out with that, Short Stack.” But honestly, she’d spent the whole time thinking that Tony was finally growing up, learning how to ask for help. And if he regularly neglected to fill out his paperwork, forcing her to chase him down and cajole him into doing it, well. He was still Tony. There was only so much growing up he would do.

But everyone seemed to be laughing at her.

Jane regularly cackled when Tony would holler her name from the adjoining lab space or texted and called her incessantly to pester her into helping him with something. To be honest, Darcy brushed off her best friend’s reaction; Jane knew about the epic-sized crush that Darcy harbored for the reckless superhero. And like a true sister, she regularly mocked her friend’s discomfort. Which was fine, because Darcy always got her back by mimicking Jane’s starry-eyed gaze whenever she looked at Thor. That’s what they did—they pushed and they pulled and poked and prodded and absolutely nothing was off-limits.

But she did start to notice when all of a sudden every other Avenger seemed to find a reason to come by the labs. Thor was normal—he only ever had eyes for Jane. But then Bruce would stop by every now and then with a question for Jane, always with that shy, secretive smile on his face. And Nat suddenly perched on the edge of Darcy’s desk for hours at a time, ostensibly for no reason at all. She always smiled like a cat who’d gotten the cream, which was somehow both terrifying and hot.

Clint popped out of the vents regularly with a shit-eating grin on his face, making Jane and Darcy jump. They started a game to see how fast Darcy could pelt him with a crumpled-up piece of paper. Her record was 1.5 seconds; Darcy had always been good at whack-a-mole. And even Steve started coming by, albeit only after particularly frustrating conversations with Tony. He would come in, be polite, give Darcy his patented ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ expression, and leave. It was all very strange.

In hindsight, she’d been pretty dumb about the whole thing.

It all finally fell to pieces when Tony pulled her into his office on a Friday evening, right when she was finally leaving the lab. She was grumpy and tired, and all she really wanted to do was fall face-first into her bed and not leave it until Monday morning, but she stepped into his workshop anyway. He didn’t even look up from the machinery he was fiddling with.

“There’s a takeout menu on the bench over there,” he said with a distracted wave of his hand, still not looking up. “I want the pad thai, extra spicy. Get whatever you want.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded, without saying a word. He finally looked up. “What? I know you like Thai food, Darcy. It’s not that hard.”

Enough was enough. “You’re right,” she said, low and venomous. “It’s not that hard, so you can get your fucking food yourself, Tony.” And walked out.

She went home in a daze, feeling crushed and small. Darcy had thought he’d seen her as somebody with value and intelligence, but clearly not. Her phone started ringing within an hour of her collapsing on the couch. It was Tony, so she ignored it. Then Nat called, and Tony again. Right when she was about to put her phone on silent, it vibrated again. It was Jane, so she picked up.

“What happened?” her best friend asked without preamble. Darcy told her everything, up to and including the fact that she was sitting on her couch bingeing ice cream. “Oh, Darce,” Jane said sympathetically. She hesitated, then asked, “Can I come over?”

“Can you come over and not talk about it?” Darcy asked shrewdly.

There was a huff and then her best friend confessed, “Probably not.”

“Then no offense, but I’d rather be alone tonight.”

There was a pause, like Jane wanted to say something else. “Okay, Darce. See you Monday?”

“See you Monday. Love you, Janie.”

“Love you too, Darce.”

After that, Darcy did turn her phone on silent. The weekend passed without any further incident; she cleaned her apartment, went to the gym, and generally tried not to think about how hurt she was, with mixed results. And on Monday, she went back to work.

None of the Avengers stopped by the lab for the next several days, which stung. She thought they’d been her friends, too. The following Friday, Steve walked into the lab with a grave expression. Offering a tentative smile, he asked, “Hey Darcy, Jane. Darce, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” she replied. Jane was already on her way out the door.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Steve said, “but the issue isn’t going to resolve itself anytime soon. Tony is moping and miserable and clearly not ready to try and fix things with you.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face, then looked up and met her gaze. “And it’s affecting the team.”

When she opened her mouth to argue, he rushed to add, “And I know that’s not your fault, Darce. Sorry, I’m just trying to explain why I’m saying anything at all. And I hope you’ll hear me out.”

If the disappointed expression was bad, the earnest expression was even worse. Darcy leaned back in her chair and nodded, sighing in defeat. “Tony was trying, in his strange, dysfunctional way, to ask you on a date.”

No. She didn’t say it out loud, just mouthing the word, but Steve responded anyway. “Yeah,” he said. And everything clicked into place.

“Please excuse me, Steve. I have someone to go beat the shit out of.” He grinned in relief, and then she was gone.

Tony was in his workshop. For once, no music was blaring, so she knew he heard her approach. His shoulders raised defensively around his ears, but he didn’t look at her. There were dark bruises under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” she asked, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to talk first.

“No,” he said shortly, punctuating the word with a loud bang on the metal in front of him. With a wrench, which clearly wasn’t even the right tool to be using.

This was not the right tactic, obviously. “Tony,” she said, softly. Pleading for him to look up. He didn’t, and she sighed and turned on her heel to leave. She’d have to tell Steve she tried.

“It was supposed to be a date,” he exploded, and she paused. When she turned back around, he said, “I do respect you. It wasn’t a—a—demand for you to lower yourself or anything. I respect you,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. He looked hurt, too. What a pair they were, she thought.

She smiled for the first time, and his face lit with hope. She stepped closer, and teased, “Normal people just ask someone out on a date, Tony.”

“Pfft,” he said, tossing the wrench onto the work table and stalking in her direction. “Normal is boring.” She rolled her eyes, smile still stretched across her face.

“Besides,” he said, waggling his eyebrows as his gaze dropped to her mouth, “you like me the way I am.” There was a slight uplift to his tone at the end, as if he was asking, not stating.

She had no problem telling him the truth. “Thor help me,” she said, reaching for him. “I really do.”

Their lips met in a sweet, tentative kiss. He held his hands away from her body, but she didn’t care about getting grease on her clothes, so she tugged him closer. Her mouth opened under his, and they were swept away with the release of feelings that had been building between them for months. His tongue was skilled but tender, stoking a flame of desire in her belly that simmered slowly. She clutched him to her as they both got swept away in the feeling. When the need for air grew too strong, they finally broke apart. His forehead pressed against hers and they just stood there for a long moment, eyes still closed as they savored the aftermath of their first kiss.

“I hope you don’t say Thor’s name in bed,” he joked weakly, a breath of a chuckle drifting across her lips.

She pulled away, but only far enough to grab his hand. “I guess you’ll have to find out,” she said with a wink, pulling him toward the elevator.

send me a kiss prompt!

#ironshock #darcy x tony #darcyland #writing prompt #kiss prompt #georgiagirlagain #reply

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