#alternative heros from the nineties

[kollectorsrus]

[moosemonstrous]

Ghost Rider in Marvel's Midnight Suns

"All of our Midnight Suns have powers that are rooted in darkness but used for good," informs Marvel's Midnight Suns narrative director Chad Rocco. In the case of Ghost Rider, Firaxis could channel an origin story grounded in pure evil and demonic mischief. "One of the specific comics that our game is based on is 1992's Ghost Rider/Blaze: Spirits of Vengeance in the Rise of the Midnight Suns event, which is also one of the most famous Ghost Rider comics. It featured both previous Ghost Riders: Johnny Blaze and Danny Ketch.

(A 'Danny Ketch'-inspired look for Ghost Rider, artist: Seamas Gallagher)

(Final and early concept explorations for Ghost Rider's head, artist: Dongmin Shin)

"However, because our game is a contemporary retelling of that storyline, we felt that featuring the newest Ghost Rider, Robbie Reyes, would help cement our narrative in the present. Since Robbie Reyes is not yet as iconic as Ghost Rider, we also had the opportunity to really play with the character and make him our own. "We tried to design Robbie in a way that felt very classic and very sleek to visually link him to the previous Ghost Riders and that nineties punk aesthetic with black leather, chains, and styled hair. His depiction in our game is very much Danny Ketch combined with Robbie Reyes. Robbie's storylines in the comics are extremely dramatic, and we felt that imbuing him with more Danny would help us capture that level of adrenaline in his appearance and narrative. For example, Danny Ketch's Spirit of Vengeance was depicted as a completely 'other' being that he carried inside of him, and we wanted our Robbie to have a similar experience. When he transforms, he really becomes this alternate Spirit of Vengeance persona. He's completely driven by justice, consumed by it, and even in his daily life he has to carry the weight of that dark power residing within him." While this wouldn't be the first time that Ghost Rider has teamed up with friends, Firaxis considered how similarly haunted companions might synergise, with darkness in common. "This is a struggle shared by all the Midnight Suns, and Robbie was the perfect vehicle - pun intended - to symbolize that," teases Rocco. "The Midnight Suns are a force of justice and a force of good, but many of their powers are sourced from darkness and the demonic. Their powers are very raw, with this undercurrent of wildness, especially compared to heroes like the Avengers, who deploy their powers in a much more controlled and considered way. However, this also allows the Midnight Suns to stand side-by-side with the more established heroes, because while they are lesser-known characters in the Marvel Universe, they feel just as powerful. Their power comes across as almost limitless because it's drawn from such a wild, unbounded source."

(Artist: Seamas Gallagher)

How, then, to harness limitless power in a game? "When you think of Iron Man, Captain America, or even Wolverine, their attacks tend to be very precise and very measured, whereas the Midnight Suns channel this overwhelming, untapped power and let it rip. In our game, when Robbie summons his Hell Charger, there are flames everywhere, he's hurling chains, the car is bucking like a horse, and hellfire takes over your entire screen. You feel the fury. It's the perfect visualization of the difference between the younger Midnight Suns and Marvel's more mainstream heroes. Robbie Reyes embodies that tension, which is an important narrative thread that runs through the game."

Marvel's Midnight Suns - The Art of the Game (2023)

[freakingoutthesquares]

The Herald 10 December 2015

"I'd run out of juice and judging by the album sales the rest had too after I left."

Russell Senior on life in and out of Pulp

By Teddy Jamieson

RUSSELL Senior has written a book about Britpop. He wasn't sure he wanted to or even knew how to for a long time. But then the former Pulp guitarist and violinist watched all the 20th anniversary Britpop documentaries on the TV and they contrived to make Britpop look as dull as a Menswear B side.

"They all looked very flat and stilted and not very exciting," he recalls. "And you see punk documentaries and there's fantastic footage of the Pistols and the 100 Club. " But that doesn't seem to be the case with Britpop. "There isn't great footage for some reason. It all seems mannered. And yet it was a very exciting time. So I thought, 'well, you've been an explorer in that jungle and you should catalogue what you've seen."

And so welcome Freak Out the Squares, a guide to Britpop wildlife. Think of it as a northern, working class alternative to Alex James's Bit of a Blur. So there's no exact equivalent of James's five naked girls and a jereboam of champagne birthday celebrations but there is a bit of sex, drugs and rock and roll. With a spot of gratuitous tree burning thrown in for good measure. It's not a revenge on his former band mates by the way. He's actually quite circumspect. "I was in Pulp for 13 years the first time and most of that was either boredom or hatred. The fun bits are what make a book. 'He said to me in 1993' and 'I hated this trousers' is not worth writing down, is it?"

This morning I've interrupted Senior's computer game playing (Counter-Strike, if you must know) to ask him about the book, life in Sheffield at the start of the eighties, Pulp's years (and years) of struggle and his short experience of success before he left the band in the late nineties to start a career in antiques. I'm disappointed he doesn't go into that latter part of his life in the book, I tell him. "Of all the things people have said you ought to have more of, you're the first person to ever say you need anecdotes about antiques. It was more like 'can we have more about what Liam said.'"

Senior was Pulp's most gratuitous sunglass-wearer and, it would seem, from reading Freak Out the Squares, the grown-up of the band. Or maybe wrangler might be a better description. "Oh definitely the herder of cats. And they weren't easy to herd either. Artists, they're buggers really. They don't take kindly to organisation. Or getting up."

"So yeah, they called me the headmaster. It was supposed to be an insult but I was quite complimented by it."

Pulp emerged in the early eighties just as Sheffield began to slip off the cultural radar. At the start of that decade Senior says it was the most exciting place to be on Earth, home to a thrilling, innovative electronic scene that gave the world Cabaret Voltaire, Clock DVA, the Human League and Vice Versa (later to reposition themselves as new popsters ABC).

Even though the nascent Pulp were hardly musical fellow travellers it did give the band the belief that Sheffield was a place to make music. "It was exciting that there was this secret underbelly to the city and then I watched it collapse as well. You see your punk rock heroes begging in the streets, literally; people you were clapping on stage now trying to ponce 10 pence off you for a bottle of cheap cider. There were fantastically successful figures and there were casualties. I knew both, so it was like death or glory, being in a band."

The reality proved to be more of a long, dreary slog. Senior, singer Jarvis Cocker and the rest of them spent the best part of a decade getting nowhere fast. And then at the start of the nineties they finally became an overnight success. Jarvis became an unlikely sex symbol and the band got to appear on Top of the Pops which was, Senior suggests, pure validation. That and later hearing Disco 2000 on the Waltzer in Cleethorpes.

Still, he left in 1997. "Personally I'd run out of juice and judging by the album sales the rest had too after I left. I thought I'd said what I wanted to say in music. Move on."

And yet he was thrilled to come back in 2011 and tour with the band again. Was there a sense of closure? "Yeah definitely. It felt kind of unfinished in a way. It kind of had to be done." His diary of the tour also gave him the basis for the book.

These days Russell Senior likes foraging (but worries that it makes him sound like a hipster: "I've been doing it all my life," he points out) and thinks that Britpop was more fun than people give it credit for ("if it's reduced to Blur v Oasis then it's certainly done down.")

He is proud of his past but he's always kept it in perspective. When John Peel announced on radio that Pulp at Glastonbury was the best gig ever Senior was cleaning the toilet at the time. "It can't go to your head. It doesn't give me a discount at Asda or anything."

Freak Out the Squares by Russell Senior is published by Aurum Press, priced £18.99.

[pyrrhesia]

FF14Write22 - Veracity

In which the Warriors of Light are confronted with alternative facts.

"And, behold! As the Warriors of Light did venture into the heart of the Garlean lair, an abominable mecha-primal did bar the path! Each of its three maws did open to reveal a dozen cannon, and each shoulder bristled with a score of guns! And with a vicious swing of its claw, it did lay about it, and scattered were the Warriors of Light! And lo, spake the Warriors of Light unto the MechaPrimal: 'Do you truly think you have the power within you to overcome us?' For, combining the power of their hearts--" "What?" The minstrel's hand paused on the strings. Did he hear dissent from the crowd? He looked around, and only allowed himself to see enraptured faces. "Combining the power of their hearts, as they did, the Warriors--" "No. That didn't happen." Eyes turned, now, to the burly woman hanging by the bar. A heavy, unstrung bow leaned on the counter by her side. And lo, did the minstrel realise: Oops. The woman shifted across to look at him, staring through him. Patiently, as though explaining to a child, she said, "That weird emotions stuff didn't happen. Gaius talked at us for ages." "What did he say?" someone from the crowd asked. The woman scratched the back of her neck. Then she shrugged. "Wasn't paying attention. Was looking for weak points in the armour. Wasn't a mechaprimal. Just a big glowy thing. Built kind of bad. It fell apart after a while." She looked back up at the minstrel. "If you're going to tell it," she said, with the gravity of someone eminently capable of breaking his neck, "tell it right."

"Yea, the chittering beetle-hordes of the Gnath did part like a chitinous sea! For they did know: their doom fell now 'pon them, as the sun crests the mountains to drive away the night! Yet, as the Warriors of Light descended, they did wonder: could the insects truly be giving the heart of their terrible lair over? Nay... what awaited them there was a thing terrible to behold: an unthinking behemoth, terrible in aspect! Five tongues slavered between the gaps of a thousand teeth, as eight-score beady eyes did level on the heroes! And it did fall upon them with a ravenous hunger, and would the lady at the back kindly cease her scoffing." The lady at the back did not cease her scoffing. Instead, she stood, shivering against the cold, and removed the fur shako keeping her from dying of exposure in Ishgard's eternal winter. Two flax-furred rabbit ears came free, and flicked with irritation, and the minstrel swallowed. Oh. "You used 'terrible' twice in one sentence," she said. "Ironic, perhaps, given it is how I would describe your performance. Have you no respect for the truth, little man?" "Um." He had plenty of respect for the truth. He also had a roof to keep over his head. "I-" "The primal Ravana," said surely, regrettably Ysabet Sable, as eyes turned to her, "took on an aspect far more knight than dragon. It was a noble creature, in its way. It sang--" "Beetles do not sing," said the minstrel, strangled. Ysabet glowered at him. "Has it stopped you? No, it was only in Ravana that I found the knightly conduct that I had been lead to believe this frigid hellhole..."

"Yet, as they reached the heart of the Ananta, they were met by the serpentine seductress: Lakshmi, Herself! And though each of the Warriors of Light saw the most beautiful woman they had ever seen, and the more lascivious of their number did find their hearts unwilling to draw steel, the creature was, i'truth, a being of terrors unthinkable! Two heads did she have, and eight arachnid eyes 'pon each! Four sabres did she wield, with which she carved out her necklace of severed heads, draped over her ninety-nine swollen breasts! For today would be a most rough wooing indeed!" The inn hooted and hollered. They were loving this. And one of them, one rather better-connected than the rest, nudged the Ishgardian knight to his left. "Is it true? Did it really go down like this?" Severine de Belgrave kept a straight face the only way she could: by raising her glass to her lips to conceal her smile, drowning it in wine as she nodded frantically. At last, she managed: "Yes. Um. Yeah, no, that's precisely how it happened."

[ao3feed-izch]

BHNA: Domino AU

by shionaxmayu

Izuku Midoriya had no quirk...he was a quirkless person...the doctors checked...but, what if that was a lie?

Izuku Midoriya, unlike ninety-eight percent of the population, has a rare type of quirk, that can't be detected my normal means. However, through a domino affect of others around him, someone unlocks it by simply deciding to get a small gift for her sick brother on the way home...

From the both of them being encountered by the sludge quirk person now, creating a domino effect that unknown to them, that a certain hero agency wants to prevent. The only way to stop it however, is something that neither party involved truly wants. The domino effect begins...

Words: 683, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Original Characters, Midoriya Hisashi

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Original Female Character(s), Iida Tenya/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Canon Rewrite, Non-Canon Relationship, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor

source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57577213

[dnschmidt]

Movie ideas...

A superhero movie where the first ninety minutes is all origin story, and then right before it ends, the hero goes on his first mission and immediately gets hit by a bus. Call it “Anticlimax Man”.

A remake of Predator where the alien only turns invisible because of his social anxiety

A RoboCop sequel where he dies after his case fan gets clogged with cat hair.

A darts player discovers alternative medicine and gives people acupuncture treatments from 50 yards away.

An archeologist digs up an ancient sorcerer's scroll of forbidden evil casserole recipes.

A haunted house movie that’s just the neighborhood kids playing ding dong ditch and running away before the ghost answers the door.

An Oceans 11 prequel called Oceans 1/2. This time, the heist team is just George Clooney’s legs. Running around, kicking security guards in the shins, stealing pants. Lots of shoe product placement.

A remake of 2001: A Space Odyssey where the monolith is a giant Hot Pocket.

[back-and-totheleft]

"We don't value science the way we used to"

As we sit down to start our interview, Oliver Stone makes a point of putting his own dictaphone on the table to record our conversation. “To protect ourselves,” he says, before going on to speak non-stop for 45 minutes with absolutely no filter, on virtually any topic I raise, and quite a few I don’t.

He’s dressed in a smart blazer and shirt but he looks a little wild, his greying hair unruly and his brow wet from the baking sun that floods through the windows of the hotel suite. He clutches a yellow silk handkerchief, which he uses to alternately gesticulate and wipe his face.

Stone is here alongside his producing partner Fernando Sulichin to promote his new documentary, Nuclear Now, but he’s in no hurry to start talking about it.

To break the ice I mention that the boss of the toy company Mattel, who I had interviewed earlier that day, had jokingly asked if Stone would like to direct Barbie 2.

“Ridiculous,” Stone growls. “Ryan Gosling is wasting his time if he’s doing that shit for money. He should be doing more serious films. He shouldn’t be a part of this infantilization of Hollywood. Now it’s all fantasy, fantasy, fantasy, including all the war pictures: fantasy, fantasy. Even the Fast and Furious movies, which I used to enjoy, have become like Marvel movies. I mean, how many crashes can you see?”

Then, apropos of nothing, he changes the subject and suddenly we’re talking about how much he hates Virgin Airlines.

Richard Branson has a special place in hell reserved for him

“I went through a nightmare the other day. I was flying Virgin to London. [Richard] Branson has a special place in hell reserved for him. Dante couldn’t make this up. That plane he’s designed is a sardine can. The seats are like straitjackets. I haven’t slept a fucking inch.”

He sighs, putting his head in his hands. “It’s a depressing nightmare…”

He looks up, perhaps noticing the slightly baffled look on my face. “Oh yeah, so on the plane I watched John Wick, which is three hours and some. And I fell asleep about 778 times during it. I kept waking up and having to face him killing more people. It’s like the world has degenerated into non-logic.”

This is quite the introduction to the mind of Oliver Stone, the Oscar-winning director of stone-cold bangers including Platoon, Wall Street, Born on the Fourth of July and JFK, and writer of Midnight Express, Scarface and Natural Born Killers.

In his early nineties heyday his stories of troubled outsiders helped to define a generation of movies. Then his output began to slow, the number of duds eventually surpassing the number of hits, until he seemed to vacate the Hollywood mainstream altogether (his last big feature film was Snowden, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, in 2016).

Now aged 76, he is predominantly a documentary-maker, having worked alongside Sulichin on 16 films and counting. One of these – a turning point in his public image – was a series of sympathetic interviews conducted with Vladimir Putin, who he has more or less defended ever since.

“I was filming Snowden, who many people in the West still consider a traitor. Lunacy! He’s a real hero! He ended up in Moscow, so the last scenes of the film were shot there. The world is relatively small so [Putin] knew I was there. He agreed to meet me and talk about the Snowden affair, which I used as a basis to make the documentary.”

I wonder if he’s revised his opinion of the dictator since the invasion of Ukraine? “No,” he replies without missing a beat. Then he seems to catch himself: “I don’t want to get into that, because it’s not important and it would take over the other issues.”

But it is important, I suggest, because his views on Putin will affect the way people receive his work, including his new documentary.

“If it does, they’re missing the point. Because this is far bigger than this war. It’s bigger than Mr. Putin and Mr. Biden, it’s about the future.”

Stone is no stranger to controversy – ever since he wrote the screenplay for Midnight Express he has been accused of pushing a problematic vision of heroic machismo, and yet forty years later he’s still making movies. Is he impossible to cancel?

We’re cancelling too many talented people. The world has become more puritan and boring and narrow. We should entertain all kinds of thought. That’s how we get better.

“That’s a great expression. I like that. Because we’re cancelling too many talented people. The world has become more puritan and boring and narrow. We should entertain all kinds of thought. That’s how we get better.”

Given so many of his films seem to focus on outsiders, I wonder if he considers himself one? “I guess I do,” he replies wearily, touching his head with the handkerchief.

“I’m an only child. I never tried to fit the profile of a rebel but when you take in all my work, there is a lot of anger and rebellion.”

That anger is certainly evident in Nuclear Now. It’s a strange beast, made up of both archive footage and new material (mostly Stone interviewing nuclear scientists, often in Russia). Part infotainment, part pro-nuclear propaganda, it’s a kind of mash up of Adam Curtis and the sort of film a teacher might wheel into a classroom on a rainy day.

Clips from Godzilla and Dr. Strangelove sit beside endearingly low-fi scientific diagrams and computer generations of nuclear reactors.

“I wanted to explain nuclear energy,” he says. “What is it? What’s the origin? People all have an opinion but they just don’t know. I hate that.

“It’s like everyone has an opinion on Kennedy but they don’t do any research: ‘Oh yeah, he was killed from the front, blah, blah, blah. Oswald is guilty.’ It’s the same thing with nuclear, people are against it but their reasons are bogus. They haven’t even f***ing studied it. You have to start with knowledge.”

Stone acknowledges Al Gore’s seminal climate change documentary An Inconvenient Truth, which won him a Nobel Prize, was “important” but he thinks Gore missed the point; to paraphrase James Carville: it’s nuclear, stupid!

Nuclear energy is not the ugly sister that you hide in the back – it’s Cinderella. She’s not ugly, she’s beautiful

“People worry about nuclear waste and meanwhile the whole world is choking on fossil fuel waste. That’s silly. Trillions of dollars have been invested in solar and wind and hydropower. Everything possible is being discussed, except for nuclear. We had Davos last year and it’s not even on the agenda. It has to be on the agenda. It has to be talked about. It’s not the ugly sister that you hide in the back, you know, it’s Cinderella. She’s not ugly, she’s beautiful.”

Does he think Nuclear Now will have as big an impact as An Inconvenient Truth? “It should but it probably won’t, because we didn’t have Vice President Al Gore as our frontman. I wish we had an Einstein around, or an Oppenheimer, I could use him. But we don’t have that today. I guess we don’t cherish and value science the same way we used to.”

Perhaps that contributed to how difficult it was to get Nuclear Now made in the first place. “Studios know how to push serial killers or the Tiger Dominator,” says Sulichin, “But not things that will educate or enlighten. There are two documentary markets, the market for films with a murderer or a serial killer, which will get a good deal. Then you have other films, which are tough.

“It was hard to raise the money for Nuclear Now and it was hard to distribute. But it’s a good film, and when the film is good, people will watch it. The word is spreading. The film has had great success in the United States and we are slowly, with a level of effort, achieving beyond our goals. Last week, this movie was number one on iTunes, which was a pleasant surprise.”

So how did they get it funded?

“Through myself and other people I know who are philanthropists,” says Sulichin. “A Polish woman who makes uniforms for nurses, entrepreneurs from Silicon Valley, a lot of interesting people who believe in nuclear. We accepted credit cards, bitcoins.”

This is a narrative I feel Stone can get behind, pushing his righteous agenda in the face of overwhelming odds.

Nuclear Now ends not with an apocalypse but a vision for a slightly cheesy possible future: crystal-clear water and verdant forests, an antediluvian paradise, brought to you by nuclear fission.

“I wanted the Barbie doll ending! The film is depressing in the beginning. We throw all the shit in your face and say, ‘Look, this is the worst it can be’. And then we end with positive notions of the future, how nuclear can make… more of a Barbie world.”

-Steve Dinneen, "Oliver Stone on nuclear power, Putin and feeling like an outsider," CityAM, June 22 23

[hakesbros]

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[qqueenofhades]

20+ Books That You (Might Actually Want) To Read During Pride Month!

Right, so. I got annoyed after seeing the list referenced in this post last night, told myself that my books are all packed up so I couldn’t do anything about it, and lasted all of a whopping 10 minutes before picking up my phone and attempting to make my own list instead. Behold, my from-memory attempt to present 20 books with strong LGBTQ plots, characters, and/or authors, that DON’T just rely on Suffering and Identity Politics and are... you know... fun.

Listed in alphabetical order by title. Links take you to Bookshop.org, where you can buy them from your local independent bookstore at a discount and NOT from the evil empire.

1. A Master of Djinn – P. Djeli Clark * author of color * steampunk Cairo in 1912 * djinn! magic! murder mystery! * butch Arab lesbian main character * devout hijabi Muslim badass assistant * anticolonial alternate history

2. An Accident of Stars – Foz Meadows (Sequel: A Tyranny of Queens) * trans author * bi, pan, trans, aro representation * racially diverse characters * all female POV characters * high-fantasy world adventures

3. Boyfriend Material – Alexis Hall * queer author * look I love this book SO MUCH and have absolutely screamed about it before but also I LOVE IT SO MUCH * contemporary M/M fake dating in modern London, complete with full cast of disaster found-family queer friends * it is. fucking. HILARIOUS. I almost died the first time reading it * there is a sequel called HUSBAND MATERIAL scheduled to be released in 2022; I am a normal amount of excited for this book

4. Gideon the Ninth – Tamsyn Muir (Sequel: Harrow the Ninth) * the book cover says “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted palace in space!” * that is exactly what you get * slow-burn enemies-to-lovers F/F main romance * I cannot describe this book, it is dark, genre-bendy, science fiction-y, Hunger-Games-with-lesbian-necromancers-in space? Kinda? I have literally never read anything like it * also fucking HILARIOUS

5. One Last Stop – Casey McQuiston * queer author (who wrote Red White and Royal Blue) * bisexual fat girl from the South/lesbian-daughter-of-Chinese immigrants from the 1970s-riot-grrl main romance * time traveling mystery involving the Q train in Brooklyn (mentions Brighton Beach ahem) * magical realism * many more found-family chaotic queers including a trans Latino psychic and a Black accountant by day/drag queen by night and the mean little gay disaster who has a hopeless crush on them

6. Parasol Protectorate (series) – Gail Carriger * this is one of my favorite series, and there are five books: Soulless, Changeless, Blameless, Heartless, and Timeless * steampunk vampires/werewolves late Victorian London, like Jane Austen crossed with P.G. Wodehouse (they are all fucking hilarious) * pretty much everyone is queer; we got your flamboyantly camp gay vampires (Lord Akeldama ftw!) We got your gay werewolves! We got your lesbian French inventors! We got your big disaster idiot werewolf main male love interest! We got your crazy adventures! You name it we got it! * two spin-off novellas: Romancing the Werewolf (M/M) and Romancing the Inventor (F/F) * she has a ton more books in this same universe and writes sexy queer supernatural romance as G.L. Carriger

7. Plain Bad Heroines – Emily M. Danforth * queer author * historical horror-comedy set between a haunted girls’ school in early-1900s New England and in the modern day * all sapphic female main characters * plays with style/form/voice, a story within a story within a story

8. Red White and Royal Blue – Casey McQuiston * you’ve probably heard of it but here I am reccing it again * the biracial son of the first female POTUS falls in love with the Prince of England; shenanigans absolutely ensue * yes, the British monarchy still absolutely sucks a big fat dick * hilarious, heartfelt, reads like fanfic, just go get it, it will change your life

9. Rosaline Palmer Takes The Cake – Alexis Hall * same author as Boyfriend Material, this is his newest * bisexual female protagonist * absolutely perfect satire of The Great British Bake Off (you can tell this man has watched EVERY SINGLE SERIES and all of the holiday specials) * sweet and surprisingly thoughtful

10. Starless – Jacqueline Carey * genderqueer/transmasculine main character of color * almost all main characters are brown people! * lush Middle Eastern/India-inspired fantasy world * gods, prophecies, monsters * the best Oh God Why Me I Am A Horrible Mentor wise-old-mentor

11. The Future of Another Timeline – Annalee Newitz * nonbinary (they/them) author * time travel but make it The Handmaid’s Tale * will probably make your head explode * feminist, queer, subversive * diverse characters

12. The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue – Mackenzi Lee * queer author * technically YA but historical/magical adventure set in the 1700s * bisexual disaster main protagonist and love interest of color * (mis)adventures across Europe * has a sequel (see below) with the badass asexual sister of the protagonist

13. The Hate Project – Kris Ripper * nonbinary/genderqueer author * M/M enemies to lovers/sex with no strings attached (spoiler alert: strings attached) * HECKING HILARIOUS * sweet, escapist, and very low stakes * diverse characters, including fat protagonist with realistic anxiety disorder

14. The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy – Mackenzi Lee * PIRATES, obviously * sequel to Gentleman’s Guide * asexual female protagonist * strong queerplatonic f/f friendship * more historical/magical 18th century adventures

15. The Last Rune (series) – Mark Anthony * Imma be real with you chief, I haven’t read this series since I was a clueless teenager with no idea why I liked Gay Stuff so much, so if it does turn out to suck now, don’t throw rotten veggies at me * but especially since it was written in the NINETIES, this series was hella progressive?! * gay characters, disabled characters, characters of color, all playing significant and heroic roles in six-book epic fantasy cycle * people from Earth end up in high-fantasy world of Eldh * endgame M/M romance for the main character * books out of print, I think, but you can find them cheap somewhere like AbeBooks; first one (Beyond the Pale) linked above

16. The Library of the Unwritten – A.J. Hackwith * queer author * heaven-hell-Valhalla supernatural adventures * The Good Place x Good Omens x Lucifer x The Librarians * Pansexual Black badass female heroine * Queer found families * The Sassiest TM Bisexual Villain Turned Reluctant Hero (is he my favorite? Why on earth would you think that.)

17. The Priory of the Orange Tree – Samantha Shannon * epic doorstopper science fiction/historical fantasy set in a vaguely 16th-century world * main F/F romance between a queen and her sorceress bodyguard * sassy old gay alchemist whose backstory will give you Feelings * so many strong women and characters of color * no homophobia! marriage is fully gender-neutral, spouses are called “companions”

18. The Song of Achilles – Madeline Miller * likewise one you have probably heard of but still * a little light on the myth/historical part imho, but the writing is beautiful and will give you many feelings * M/M romance between Achilles and Patroclus  * reimagining of The Iliad (her other book Circe is also really good)

19 The Stars are Legion – Kameron Hurley * all-female apocalyptic space opera * messy messy antiheroines * grimdark war fantasy * queer sci-fi drama

20. Witchmark – C.L. Polk * author of color * M/M romance * main character is a veteran and a doctor dealing with his own hidden magic and repressed war trauma * gaslamp fantasy set in a world reminiscent of post-WWI England * strong sibling relationship

[greyias]

FIC: Chance Encounters - Chapter 8

Title: Chance Encounters Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight (pre-relationship) Rating: T Genre: Canon Divergent AU. Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Even the smallest change can have large, unseen ripple effects. When Theron Shan books a voyage on the Esseles, he has no idea how a chance encounter with a Jedi Knight will change the course of his life. A canon divergent alternate universe examining what happens when Theron and the Hero of Tython meet much, much sooner. Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

If Teeseven had been put out over being left behind for the fight with Ironfist, Grey’s face showed that the news that his Jedi companion was sneaking onto the enemy ship without him was not going over well. Theron couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying - they were communicating on a private channel - but he imagined it was very similar to the earful he was getting from his own droid.

“If anyone asks,” Theron interrupted M-6’s tirade, “I disavow any knowledge of where you picked up that vocabulary.”

The flat, unamused long beep told Theron exactly what M-6 thought about that. He shook his head and glanced over at Grey, who gave a sigh of her own.

“Teeseven says that I am to inform you he expects you to watch my back.” 

“That’s… kind of what I’ve been doing, hasn’t it?”

A smile played at the corner of her lips. “Against your better judgement?”

He gave a half shrug, something resembling a grin threatening to peek through. “Only like ninety percent of the time.”

“I made a whole ten percent? I’m flattered.”

Theron snorted out a breath that could have been amusement as she walked beside him on the way toward the lift that would take them to the hangar bay. The doors were swishing open when a shout came from behind to hold up. As one, they turned to face Haken, who was jogging to catch up with them.

“Hold up a minute,” Haken said as he drew near. “I was hoping to speak with you privately before you go.”

“We’re kind of on a time crunch here,” Theron reminded the first officer.

“I know, I know,” Haken said, “but this won’t take long.”

“What is on your mind?” Grey asked politely.

“I just spoke to Salen down in engineering.” As he said the words, a dark expression passed over the young man’s face as if a shadow had fallen over it. “He told me what Asara tried to make you do. Thank you for stopping her.”

“I know the Ambassador thought she was only doing what was necessary to save the ship,” Grey said quietly, “but regardless of intentions, the ends do not justify the means.”

“You stood up for my crew,” Haken said, “and risked your own lives instead. That’s not something I or my men will forget anytime soon.”

“We were only doing what was right.”

“That being said,” despite the almost measured tone, there was still an unsettling edge to Haken’s voice, “I didn’t stop you to just for thanks, and I’ll make this quick.”

Theron crossed his arms, waiting for the other metaphorical shoe to drop. “We’re listening.”

“I think this plan is going to work.” Haken didn’t even blink, his intense expression not giving way as he stared them down. “With the tractor beam down we’ll be able to escape — but there’s nothing to stop Kilran from hounding us. Unless he finds his target.”

The Jedi’s brow creased, genuine confusion seeming to set in on her face. “I am not sure I follow.”

“Oh, I think I do.” Theron fixed Haken with a look, lips pressing together in a thin line. “He wants us to hand the ambassador over to the Imperials.”

To her credit, Grey didn’t gape openly at the suggestion, but her confusion quickly gave way to a shock that she didn’t even attempt to hide. Remembering his earlier assessment about her bluffing skills, Theron decided it was probably very wise to keep the Jedi away from any gambling establishment, if only to save her bank account.

“Of course I do! As long as she’s on the Esseles, everyone on board is in danger. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of risking all of our lives for that woman.” It seemed that he’d wanted to use a stronger term, but apparently had restrained himself. Which seemed to be the only restraint he was capable of at the moment, as he added. “I can make it worth your while.”

Theron shot a glance over at the woman at his side to gauge her reaction to that. The shock had smoothed away to something a little more neutral, as if she’d gathered enough composure to slip that Jedi mask of hers back into place. But now that he was looking for them, he could see the cracks in it, and the true feelings she couldn’t completely hide. And right now, he was very glad he was not on the recipient of the ire he could see simmering under the surface.

“I would remind you, Lieutenant, that the Republic does not look kindly on bribery.” Grey’s tone was deceptively placid, and if Theron hadn’t seen the flare of her nostrils, even he might have been fooled that there wasn’t an undercurrent of outrage threading through it. “Nor is it the official policy to give in to the threats of our enemies.”

“Right now, all I care about is the survival of my passengers and crew,” Haken spat back at her, “and I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure it.”

“Are you?” Theron piped up. “Because it sounds like you’re wanting someone else to do your dirty work.”

The look that Grey shot him was quick, almost unreadable, before she turned back to Haken, expression softening a fraction. “I understand your anger towards the ambassador, but I would urge you to not let it cloud your judgement.”

“My judgement isn’t clouded!” Haken snapped. “This has to be done — for the good of the ship.”

“Just because a path is before you does not mean it is one you should travel,” Grey said, a hint of gentleness warring with the firm words. “We did not sacrifice those in engineering, and we will not sacrifice Asara either.”

As Haken’s expression bunched up in confusion, Theron added, “Translation: no.”

Haken’s lips pressed into a thin line, features flushing red with anger, and hands tightening into fists as he struggled to rein in his temper. After a few moments, he blew out a breath, his voice coming out more controlled after his brief outburst. “Then you better get going. I’ve wasted enough of your time.”

Theron shot him a look, but before he could contemplate saying anything, a gentle tug at his elbow prompted him to step onto the lift. It was only after the doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of the first officer’s retreating form, did Grey seem to shed that Jedi mask that she’d slipped into so effortlessly. As her head drooped down, her bangs fell into her eyes, partially obscuring her conflicted expression.

“You all right there?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment, absently swiping her bangs back out of her eyes as she turned to face him. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” It had seemed pretty clear to him, at least.

“How someone can ask us to do such a thing… I just… these aren’t bad people, Theron.”

“Is this your first time outside of the Temple?”

“It is my first mission as a knight…”

Ah. That explained a lot. “The rest of the galaxy is going to be a rude awakening for you.”

“The galaxy is not full of Hakens,” she insisted, almost hotly. “There are plenty of people in it willing to do the right thing, who will risk their lives for those in danger.”

“Really? Because both Haken and Asara were plenty willing to sacrifice someone else just to save their own skin,” he shot back. “When the chips are down, most people are going to look out for themself first.”

The look she shot him had none of the facade of neutrality she put on to play the part of a perfect Jedi. It seemed caught in a three-way tie, as if she couldn’t decide what emotion to project, so just kept wavering between something like compassion or confusion or just pure obstinate stubbornness. Whatever it was, it rankled at that core part of him that would rather crawl into another air duct than be on the receiving end of anything resembling the pity of a Jedi.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she whispered after a moment, finally settling on whatever she was feeling.

He tried to not let his annoyance show, but still felt his nose wrinkle. “I think I’ve seen a lot more of the real world than you. Not everyone’s as self-sacrificial as a Jedi.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, “but if everyone were only looking for themselves first, you would have crawled into an escape pod—not a ventilation shaft.”

Theron shifted uncomfortably. “That was practical.”

“Was it?”

“Escape pods were already disabled. And Kilran would have shot any ones that managed to eject.”

“And what about the droid that was about to shoot at my back?” Theron pressed his lips together, snorting out an annoyed breath instead of a response. “You talk as if the Jedi are some sort of exception rather than the rule. And yet you act more like a J—”

“I’m not,” he interrupted hotly, with more venom than was called for, before she could even finish that thought. “And you don’t know anything about me.”

Next Chapter

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of american thanksgiving...

...i've had food and fellowship with some very good people this week!

4pm, sunday, nov 21, 2021

reading currently like ninety percent of the way done with zen cho's sorcerer to the crown, and i really have enjoyed this one. the author manages to imitate the speech patterns of the regency/austen style, with all of those subordinate clauses and "i would not have you think that i was so humble as to..." layers extremely adeptly, without simultaneously causing all of the characters to sound the same. it's a bit bridgerton, a bit his majesty's dragon, and a ton jonathan strange and mr. norell, with the magicians of england organized into the royal society of unnatural philosophy-- but there's just enough that's different from susana clarke's world-building to not seem exactly derivative, even though the references to fairy and the way english magic is studied is familiar. his majesty's government is trying to jockey with france under napoleon by fucking around with smaller powers in south east asia which england would very much like to control, little accounting for the power of a matriarch from one of those smaller kingdoms, meanwhile english gentlewomen are forbidden from training as thaumaturges (they haven't the constitution for it) and our heroes are interested in challenging that. magic, race, gender, and a london season-- it's a good combo. i still don't love the name 'prunella', and her character seems to be mostly an assemblage of traits rather than a cohesive, you know, person, but it's been fun.

listening i had to check back through my ilcb posts from this fall to check if i'd mentioned this already and i don't thiiiiink i have? but i stumbled on to coco and the butterfields through my spot of fy discover weekly back in like, september, and fell in love at first listen with their song 'five bells.'

the alternating voices, both the vocalists' own unique timbre/styles and the alternating lyrics, are very satisfying, and then when they layer up? 'five bells are ringing' / 'crack in my own window', plus the higher line in the background, ugh it's warm and resonant and good.

watching in an effort to branch out in my watching a bit, i gave a quick try to the netflix show 'norsemen,' which is a half hour comedy about vikings? i'm actually very here for workplace comedy / sitcom-style takes on historical periods, so i may give it another try, but there was more initial gross-out humor than i wanted (which is saying something bc i don't mind a mcelroy level of poop/butt/dick jokes) and i also sort of hate that there are only two, and very shallow, female characters so far.

watched a bit more succession with my housemate (we got to the new mexico 'family therapy' retreat and hoooo boy this is a Show), and have reached the beginning of the end in the untamed rewatch-- we've just got guanyin temple left to go!! i'm trying to emotionally prepare myself and my friends-- contemplating finally reading the novel version of these scenes, which i still haven't done despite reading most of the novel this summer (i liked having More to Look Forward To, in a way, and also the long-ass exposition dumping was wearing me out a bit). stay tuned for dec 3, when it All Ends. playing back to my original dnd campaign and, more importantly, my original character after having a roughly six month period during which we all rolled new characters who were diametrically opposed to our originals-- and it fits like an old glove, she's so good, my late 40s-50s human mom-bard with a courtier/spy past, it was fun to play an insufferable tween but this is like being home. we're off to free a town from some raiders, and we gathered way more allies than the dm planned so this battle may be...a little tougher as a result? looking forward to it. making as part of the build-up to the end of the untamed, and to commemorate friendsgiving this week, i did some extremely unnecessary baking (while technically on a zoom call with one of my faculty advisers as she tried to give us dissertation completion tips. baking wasn't on the list)-- apologies for the repeat pic to those of you who have seen this but i am inordinately proud of how it turned out!!

also i will note-- @lionrabbit was asking if it was lotus root and rib, and while that might actually be delicious (in the vein of like a steak and ale pie??), i haven't attempted anything so creative. this is just an apple pie.

working on love to stagger to the finish line of one set of grading the day after being handed a whole new set of assignments! luckily i don't have a tutorial to lead on tues, so i can...grade then? and the lecture that morning is happening at a MUSEUM (!!) so, if nothing else, the novelty is worth the upheaval of my routine. i haven't made any changes to my diss proposal since my friends workshopped it more than a week ago, fuck, but i've also been socializing and going to bed early and you know what, it's fine. it's fine.

[ao3feed-bakusquad]

Walk with Me

Walk With Me by eternalllyopal

The line was silent for a second, before, “Why the fuck would that freak me out? I've got my shit sorted.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's not what I'm getting at bro. But, uh, I'm ninety-five percent sure it's from your friend Todoroki. And the other five percent is just the fact that I was hammered.”

or,

Sero and Todoroki make first contact at a mutual friend's party.

Words: 3942, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of BNHA Soulmate AU

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sero Hanta, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Asui Tsuyu

Relationships: Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo, Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi

Additional Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Quirks, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Internalized Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38617230

[stefciastark]

Heir to Stark Industries ~Webpril Day 28

A/N: Tony thinks long and hard about the future of Stark Industries. He didn't think the answer would be standing right in front of him. I had to write this one a bit more quickly than the last ones because life loves to get in the way. I hope you enjoy this one :) x Only two more left to go!

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Could you please pass me the spanner, Mr Stark?”

Not moments after Peter asked for it, Tony let it fall into Peter’s open hand with a thwap.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

“Almost...done….” Peter’s words were punctuated by harsh twists of the tool in his hands, securing the last of the nuts and bolts in place.

“Let’s do a quick power test, shall we?” Tony called from over by the interface beside the project.

Peter scampered over to where Tony stood and tried to wipe the grin off of his face and keep his excitement at bay. The last eight attempts had failed to even power it on without something short-circuiting, so even if movement wasn’t on the cards, something was better than nothing.

“Your call, boss.” Tony took a step back, giving Peter access to the button that would mark their ninth trial.

“Here goes nothing.” Peter tapped the button rimmed in electric blue and watched as the laboratory lights dimmed. At first, Peter had thought that it was to conserve power, but it was later revealed to be for dramatic effect - of course it was.

The sound of a soft jet engine slowly crescendoed as the electricity travelled through a thick tubed wire that ran into the hip joint of the contraption. Just over thirty seconds after the trial began, it ended in a shower of sparks and Tony leaping for the button that said ‘OFF’ in large capital letters. Peter sighed, glad that he took his own advice and hadn’t gotten his hopes up.

Resisting the urge to swear in a way that would make Tony proud or kick the nearby stool across the room like a child, he leaned over the workshop table, and puffed air out through his cheeks before burying his head in his hands.

“How do you even do stuff like this, Mr Stark?”

Tony clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I kinda grew up with the whole ‘tech genius’ thing. I had my dad pummelling mathematics and robotics into me before I even knew how to walk. I’m pretty sure I knew advanced calculus before I knew how to wipe.” Tony chuckled humourlessly. “Other than that, he was cold and shrewd. Then came MIT - much like you - and then lots of trial and error.”

Peter looked over at the table where his droid of sorts lay lifeless and cold. Not like it wouldn’t be lifeless and cold once it was able to hold power for more than half a minute, but there was something about watching a creative endeavour come to life and become an entity of its own that made it seem so...alive. Peter was beginning to understand how Tony must have felt when he first designed the Iron Man suits.

After his first year at M.I.T had drawn to a close, Peter had travelled back down to New York during the summer break. He had a pet project he’d wanted to pursue for years but only recently manifested the courage and redeemable points with Tony to ask for his mentor’s help.

Years of watching footage and seeing the Iron Legion in action inspired Peter to want to have one of his own flying amongst them. While the second iteration of the Iron Legion were destroyed after Ultron, Tony had begun reconstructing the battalion of sorts in Peter’s last year of highs school. So, it was with a surprising amount of enthusiasm - Peter expected approval under sufferance - that Tony happily agreed to help Peter make his mark amongst the androids.

Peter also made the decision - he hadn’t decided whether or not that was a mistake - to refuse any solutions from Tony. Peter spent some time studying the Legion and the complexity of them daunted him. Which is why, with stubbornness Peter was sure he picked up from Tony, he wanted to figure it out on his and be able to say: “This was all me.” Well...it wouldn’t be all him...maybe ninety percent him.

When Peter didn’t respond, Tony probed, “Sure you don’t want me to make a few tweaks?”

“No!” Peter responded with a volume he didn’t intend. “Sorry, no...I’m just,” Peter groaned, a frustrated sound that Tony knew all too well, although he had learned to confine the screaming to a small locked box deep inside his brain. Peter didn’t quite finish his sentence, lost for words while his mind raced to come up with an alternative solution to the power problem his droid was facing.

The eyes that stared back at Peter were dark, and it felt strange to him to look at something that looked just like him in those moments when he stopped being Peter Parker and became Spiderman.

“I get it,” Tony said, an almost wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips. There was no question that Tony loved tinkering in the labs and creating and just being Tony. But, and Tony hated thinking about the ‘but’, it was coming time for him to think about retirement. He couldn’t be Iron Man forever, nor could he be the head of Stark Industries forever.

Tony had thought long and hard about the future of Stark Industries. Pepper had said she wanted to retire when he did, and no matter how much they’d bickered and argued over it, Tony ceded. And, after some thought, Tony understood why; Tony was the paintbrush and canvas and Pepper was the splashes of bright and beautiful colour. They needed each other to make art, even if that was retiring in a lakeside cabin.

Then he’d thought about Morgan, but she was far too young, even by the time they took a backseat from it all.

“Oh my god, wait a sec!” Tony jumped slightly, caught off guard when Peter all but leaped off the ground, passion oozing out of him in waves.

Sprinting over to the droid once more, Peter worked quickly, loosening the fasteners and rerouting various wires that sat at its core. Tony watched as Peter sprinted towards a stack of crates at the back of the room that housed the latest batch of miniature arc reactors.

“Can I?” Peter gestured towards the box at the front. Tony nodded and Peter grinned.

Already three out of the fifteen reactors had been taken out, Tony having used them to power some of Peter’s latest upgrades to his suit.

Darting back to his work, Peter crafted and developed a home for the small reactor right where the droid’s heart would be, had it been capable of having one.

Tony had long since taken a seat on the lounges behind the work stations, sipping out of a mug that read ‘#1 Dad’ in large print and reading through the latest industry headlines on his tablet.

“Ready for attempt ten, Mr Stark?” Peter was basically vibrating where he stood. He had a good feeling about this one.

“Fire away, kid.”

Tony watched as Peter pressed the power button once more, and saw the faint glow that lit up Peter’s smile. The kid had done it.

As the android progressively lit up from top to bottom, a soft hum filling the room, Tony kicked himself mentally for not thinking of it before. He almost saw Peter for the first time; not just as a brilliant kid who was going to go places, not just as one of the greatest heroes of his age.

The heir to Stark Industries.

[welllpthisishappening]

Catching the Highlights

It wasn’t like she was nervous, not really. Or jealous, even. Honestly, the entire story was more than a little hysterical and very nearly distracted Belle from the obviously frustrated way Will kept moving his hands at the end of the second period. Still, there was something about sitting in the stands that felt different and maybe hearing about how her maybe-boyfriend made out with Anna Vankald one time was just the push she needed. To make things a bit more real.

———

Word Count: Nearly 4.5K AN: This is a thing I do now, apparently. Write Blue Line! Will and Belle. And poorly photoshop eights into sixes on jerseys. Although I draw the line at making the girl that same photo wear a skirt. Anyway, this continues to be real fun, I hope the five people enjoying it continue to enjoy it and I think I’ve got at least one more idea for these dweebs. So, that’ll probably happen sooner rather than later. Possibly with more badly executed photoshops.

———

It had something to do with his eyes. 

With the way they narrowed ever so slightly, able to thin without causing any sort of furrow between his brow or lines of frustration on his forehead. They’d pinch. His eyes, that was. Make it so it was difficult for Belle to see the brown there or the bits of gold that she was at least ninety-six percent positive she wasn’t imagining and only slightly less confident had something to do with her. 

She’d never really been one for details, like that. 

Strange as it might have been. 

Details were the lifeblood of research. Tiny bits of information that could sway a doctoral defense or prove an argument, but Belle had always been far more interested in the sweeping potential of a very good story, and research had that too, she supposed. To some degree, at least. Although, that was getting existential. Her work was good. She was good. Fine, even. Definitely fine. Nothing to see here. Nothing to worry about. No reason to compare the strange and not entirely unfamiliar sensation of fluttering in the pit of her stomach whenever Will glanced her way to the decidedly still nature of all her internal organs while she spent eight to ten hours uptown five days a week. 

Sitting at her desk, she regularly tried to fit into the mold, everything everyone expected her to be with the title she had, and that required her to think less about the bigger picture. That sounded negative. It wasn’t. Probably. Hopefully. Just required further research. More details and specific examples.

All of them regarding the nature of Will’s eyes.

Even so, she—

Part of her missed it. The sweep. The really good stories. Ones that were less clinical and more fantastical. And the deep breath that always came just seconds before being overwhelmed. By the current and the wave and those were rather similar, as far as analogies went, but all the best stories always left her a little overwhelmed, and Belle’s cheeks were starting to ache as something bubbled out of her. Laughter, in its purest form. Bouncing and bounding and echoing off otherwise abandoned walls, the pair of them tucked into a corner of the Garden concourse because they hadn’t actually decided this was a secret, but Anna Vankald was apparently living her life under some sort of blood oath, all sworn secrecy, and poorly executed winks in the second period.

Like this was hidden. A tiny detail tucked away. Never debated. Never highlighted in the opening paragraphs of a twenty-six-page dissertation. With Chicago-style formatting. 

No one ever knew how to property do Chicago-style formatting. 

Belle might have hated Chicago-style formatting. 

She’d never been to Chicago.

Had never been—

Will’s eyes were barely slits on his face. 

Twisted lips loomed above her, not quite frustration, but inching closer the longer she kept laughing, and she refused to linger on what that meant. The laughing. The happiness. Joy, maybe. She looked up, instead. Let her head bump the wall her shoulders already had, appreciating the soft scrape of what might have been concrete against her hair, like that would ground her or slow her overactive imagination, and his hair was still wet. 

“She wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Belle bit the side of her tongue. Didn’t help, really. With her laughter problem. “Keeping state secrets?” “It happened once.” “Yes, she mentioned that, too.” He might have growled. Some strange part of her wanted him to, relished whatever the technical term was for the sound that eked out between his bared teeth, rolling his whole head in the process. Their noses nearly collided. 

Belle pushed up on her toes. 

To kiss the tip of Will’s nose. 

“That’s distracting,” he grumbled, but his hand had inched under the hem of her shirt, and that meant he’d managed to get the hem of her shirt out of the skirt she was wearing. 

“Should I have worn your jersey or something?”

His eyes snapped. Open. Brown and gold, and that wasn’t a particularly swoon-like combination in any of the stories Belle had memorized while she was growing up. Heroes with royal titles and broadswords quite literally made to challenge dragons and hordes of villains always came with blonde hair and a slight curl, flashing blue eyes that twinkled in sunlight and starlight, and Belle’s hand didn’t shake. When she brushed the few drops of water clinging to Will’s temple away. 

Her calves were starting to ache, too. Made sense. She was still pushed up on her toes. 

And the Rangers had lost. Not—well, not badly. By two goals, and one of those was an empty-net goal, which was a term Belle figured out all on her own. Well before Anna mumbled explanations under her breath, glaring daggers any time the Islanders fan two rows in front of them dared to open his mouth. 

Honestly, that was part of the problem. He kept yelling, and Anna looked dangerously close to staging some sort of public execution in section 204 and Belle had asked. For details. Wanted a good story, or possibly a distraction because she’d noticed the way Will’s hands moved at the end of the second period, staging a rather enthusiastic conversation with a man she’d never met, but his jersey said LOCKSLEY, and she didn’t think the jersey would lie to her. 

She was going to blame the Islanders fan. 

“If you did that,” Will mumbled, in response to a question she’d legitimately almost forgotten about, “I’m not sure I would have been able to get out on the ice.” “Oh, compliment or—” “Definite compliment. Was that not obvious?” “Well, you’re making out with so many other girls.”

Her laugh clung to the letters, pulling her lips behind her teeth to keep from smiling like a total idiot. Something was happening. With the flutters and the overall ability of her nasal passages to get oxygen back to her lungs, and it must have been a trick of the light. The way Will’s eyes flashed, gaze flicking up beneath eyelashes and just above the half curve of his mouth, and Belle’s knees felt a little unsteady beneath her. Fighting against the force of a wholly imaginary, even more staggering wave. 

“One time,” he said, straining on every letter, “it happened one time, and—seriously, why was she talking about this with you?” “Asked for a fun and interesting story about her.” Will’s eyes bugged, another shift in his voice that was much more like a crack as he nearly shouted, “And that’s what she came up with?”

“Said anything she had to tell me about her childhood was boring. Mostly because a lot of it would focus on KJ, because—”

“That’s Cap.” Belle clicked her tongue. “Wow, thank you for that. What would I do without you?” “If you wore my jersey, I think my head would explode.” “Not the compliment you think it is, either. That’d be a lot of blood. Who would even clean that up? Couldn’t make someone here do it; that’d be mean. Cruel and unusual, probably.” “I like your skirt.” “Better,” Belle laughed, in spite of her best efforts. Which were really lackluster, quite frankly. “Anyway, the childhood was apparently super boring, and there were shenanigans of rookie season to discuss.”

“She grew up in a mansion!” “Yeah, we got to that part eventually, although technically, I think it was just a brownstone.” “Rich kid description.” “You can tell her that if you want, I’m sure,” Belle reasoned, but his lips were back to twisted, and she was already on her toes. Made sense to use that to her advantage. Pressing kisses against the edges of his mouth, alternating back and forth until it felt a little like a rhythm she could time the rest of her vaguely unsteady breathing to, and she certainly did try. Didn’t work, but something about effort and attempts and those were—

Details, really. 

“I like her,” Belle added lightly, mouth moving across a stubble-covered cheek. Part of her felt ridiculous. Always did with things like this. She wasn’t the story. Will wasn’t the hero. He and his teammate had gotten into a fight at the end of the second period, for God’s sake. And this wasn’t—well, it wasn’t a fairy tale. No matter how much sweeping there might have been. With its butterfly wings and salt-filled waves, all of which existed solely in Belle’s subconscious. 

But there was this other part. 

Part of her that didn’t always linger behind her desk. Flitted through imaginary scenarios and stories stored in the back corner of her brain, the same one that could still smell salt air with startling clarity, and remembered the precise taste of freshly-made taffy from that one restaurant on the beach. Details. She remembered those details. Held them fast, afraid they’d disappear otherwise, and made sure they played prominent roles in every daydream. 

For fear of what would happen if she didn’t. 

How they’d fade. Grow grey and thin, and it was a contradiction. Right in the middle of her. And that scared her just a little bit, because whatever was happening now, right at that moment, with a hand flat on the curve of her hip and her heart doing its abject best to beat its way out of her chest, she felt the same exact way. Sweeping and detailed and not the least bit jealous. 

There was no need to be, really. Not when she was fairly certain she could drown in the golden flecks of Will’s eyes. Constantly staring at her as they were apt to do. 

“Do you want to hear the gist of the story?”

Will’s lips pursed. Stayed that way even as Belle’s lips continued their path across his face, spending at least two seconds at the side of his left eye and the still slightly damp area surrounding his right temple. She started picking up speed. Quick kisses that she could only hope felt as strongly as the prickle of her lips suggested. But then Will’s fingers tightened. Not much. Just enough to be obvious, and Belle grinned against his cheek. 

“I lived it,” Will argued, but there wasn’t much fight in it. He’d done that already, anyway. They’d get to that part, eventually. 

“As the story goes, though, there was some less than savory libations involved, and—” “I’m still not convinced that vodka was legal in the continental United States.” “Suggests it’d be fair game in Hawaii and Alaska, though. Possibly Puerto Rico. I’m not sure what the rules on that are. Maybe the US Virgin Islands. What about Guam? You think your alcohol would be fair game in Guam?” “I’d have to check the label.” “You still have it?” Belle balked, almost fully and entirely prepared for the flash of amusement and the precise angle of eyebrow jump. Almost being the key word, there. Another burst of laughter tumbled out of her, lips on her cheeks that time, all blazing and prickling, and that one wasn’t inherently positive, but she was slightly worried her hair was going to get caught in the concrete of the wall and she could not possibly be expected to think when Will’s hand kept doing whatever it was it was doing. 

“No, no, we did a very good job of drinking that entire thing, but I’d know that bottle anywhere.” “Where were you buying illegal alcohol? Also, how did you not die drinking hundred-proof vodka?” “Pure force of will.”

“And bad hockey games.” “Those too,” Will admitted grudgingly. An edge crept into his voice. Likely born in the second period of this game. She kissed the bridge of his nose. The tip. Between his eyebrows. Waiting for some of the tension to leave his shoulder blades, and that was all she got. Some. It was enough, for now. 

“You want to talk about that?” “Losing a playoff game my rookie season? That happened a bunch of times, babe, this was just—” “Don’t be an idiot,” Belle interrupted. 

He grinned. Tension kept pulling taut between his shoulders and the slope of his cheekbones, the second of which was really starting to offend Belle on an almost fundamental level, but his smile looked legitimate, and that was enough. 

“Should I go defend your honor in the locker room, darling?” The grin widened. “Trying to get a rise out of me, but gender is a social construct, so I don’t think it affects nicknames, and I’m a real big fan of that one, actually.” “No rise,” Belle promised, fingers hovering above his shoulders, and they both flinched when he winced. “Going to be honest, the hitting sort of freaked me out.” “Locksley wasn’t going to hit me.” “Well, yeah, then I’d have to punch him in the locker room.” “Keep your thumb inside your fist,” Will suggested, “that way you won’t break it.” “Right, right, naturally,” Belle mumbled, and she didn’t know how they managed it. Stayed upright while his hand shifted further up the back of her shirt and her teeth grazed the curve of his jaw. She was on something of a mission, now. To cover every inch of his face. With her lips. “Anyway, as Anna told this wholly fascinating story, there was a lot of vodka involved, a very bad loss, some card game—” “—Kings.” “That’s a drinking game.” “Well, now you’re getting into unnecessary specifics.” Her body shook. Against Will’s. Who almost immediately groaned. Presumably at the location and exact angle of her hips. “Ok, so there were cards involved in your drinking game. Pizza was eaten, alcohol was downed in alarmingly large gulps.” “Editorializing a bit, mon bonheur.”

“What’s that one?” “Happiness.” “Oh, that one’s nice.” Will huffed. “They’re all super nice; I have a very large crush on you; I don’t want to talk about making out with Anna Vanklad anymore.”

He said it quickly, rushing over the words. Some might even say sweepingly. Where Belle was the some. In that instance, specifically. Someone, more like. She didn’t care. Was not spending even a second on proper sentence structure or appropriate internal grammar, was far too preoccupied with the circumference of Will’s eyes. And that one muscle in his jaw. Jumping with startling regularity, really. Totally different from her heart and her pulse and it was difficult to catch her breath. 

Felt a bit like she’d played a hockey game. 

A walking contradiction. 

Where she also wasn’t walking anywhere. At all. Had absolutely no intention of walking away. From this.

“Was it not a good make-out?” “I honestly don’t remember a lot of it,” Will sighed, another roll of his neck. Something cracked. “That’s not game-related,” he added, and she could only imagine it had to do with the look on her face, “anyway, it was just...there was that vodka involved, and Vankald spent a ton of time at our apartment. She wasn’t Cap’s sister-in-law yet, but they’d grown up together, was my friend, and he’d fallen asleep, so…” “Figured you just make out?” “Not a lot of thought involved in it. She was a fixture, y’know? Shit, that sounds shitty. Does that sound super shitty?

“Drifting toward shitty, yeah.”

“Anna came to visit a lot because no matter what she may claim, she worries about Cap as much as anyone. Even El and Leader, and that’s—” “Wait, you have an Alien Leader you all report to?” “You’re ruining this story.” Her laugh got caught. Directly between them, all mouths and that goddamn hand, Belle’s neck tilting back on what might have been instinct and need, and she’d gasped more in the last four hours than she had in her entire life. “Tell me more about your Alien Leader, please.” “He only acts like an alien.” “Huh, that cleared up absolutely nothing.” “You should keep kissing me.” “Compare and contrast, huh?” Will groaned. Again. Part two. Let his mouth drag down the side of her throat, and Belle couldn’t stop laughing. Happiness poured out of her, new and a little strange in its quantity. As if she was made of the stuff, even worried as she was through all three periods. She’d kept wringing her fingers together. At one point, Anna had to hold her hand. 

“Ruining,” another kiss, “this,” teeth on her collar bone, “baby girl.”

Suggesting that she lit up in a way that reminded her of a Christmas tree was—

Farcical, maybe. 

Nothing inhuman happened. There were no bells. No whistles. No flashing neon lights suggesting this was the moment and a conversation regarding the man with his hand currently inching towards her right boob drunkenly making out with someone who wasn’t Belle should not have been so—

Fun. 

God, it was fun. She was having fun. With him and because of him. Hockey nonsense aside. 

Because, since coming to New York with her invisible tail tucked between her legs and the near-desperate desire to get away from that seaside town with its ghosts and its demands and its plan for a future that simply did not fit her anymore, Belle had tried. Really. To shed that persona. To be someone new. Hard as she tried, though, there were ties. Those lingering memories. Ones that dug in their heels, while she gripped others with both hands. She was, and she wasn’t. Small town and big town, a librarian who couldn’t care less about details while focusing on  specifics with everything in her. 

And none of it ever really made much sense. 

Hurt her head to think about, everything she tried to contain and the worry that ate away at her sometimes. That she’d messed up, ruined all of it and—

She didn’t kiss Will’s mouth. 

Peppered his face, instead. With her lips and the feelings behind them, mapping the space until she was certain she knew it as well as her own, and she wanted to. Wanted to learn everything about this guy who felt as jagged as she did, made up of right and wrong and mistakes and possibility and she knew it was only a matter of time before he got impatient. 

She liked that about him. 

That he didn’t always wait for her to catch up. Just knew that she would. 

Plus, his tongue in her mouth was really something Belle was starting to appreciate. In an obsessive sort of way. 

She might have groaned that time. 

Fingers scrambled against the front of his shirt — team-branded, again, and that shouldn’t have been charming, but it was and likely would continue to be, and there were goosebumps on her skin. They were really very good at kissing. Each other, specifically. 

“I like you, too,” Belle said, and it was a strange thing not to be embarrassed by the breathless nature of her voice. 

Will’s chest was practically heaving, though. So that put them on even ground. Common ground, at least. 

“You’re not mad?” “Give me some credit, sweetheart.” He chuckled, warm air against the top of her shoulder. “Was a very long time ago, for whatever that might be worth.” “Twelve galleons.” “I don’t know the conversion rate of that.” “No one does, so I think we’re all in the same boat.” “You don’t think Jo knows the conversion rate of her own fictional monetary system?” Belle shook her head. “I absolutely do not, because she was a shit world-builder and also a fairly terrible person now, so—” She shrugged. Will beamed. Some joke about a Christmas tree.

“So,” he echoed, “the thought of making out with Little Vankald has never once again crossed my mind.”

Someone scoffed. With entirely false indignation.

Using Will’s shoulder as leverage — the non-bruised one, naturally — Belle got enough height beneath her toes to see Anna cross her arms. And scowl at the pair of them. Badly. The scowl lasted all of five seconds before it evolved into its own rather uproarious laughter, another echo that filled the empty space of a concourse Belle could not imagine they were supposed to be standing on. Only a matter of time until someone else found them. 

She wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, actually. 

“That’s super rude, Scarlet,” Anna hissed, muffled footsteps that only lost their volume because of the overall status of Belle’s heart. Still trying to fly out of her. “But I want it noted, for the record and all that, that I don’t want to make out with you ever again, either.”

“Do you remember it being way wetter than it should have been?” “You problem, absolutely.” “I haven’t had that issue,” Belle argued, mostly to guarantee the quirk of Will’s lips. Worked like a charm. Or something less lame sounding. In her head. Most of this commentary was in her head. 

“Lucky you,” Anna drawled. 

“C’mon,” Will whined, “no one told you to start with this story.” “Start with, huh?” His eyes. Were becoming a serious problem and a growing majority in the basis for most of Belle’s heart-related issues, but she forced herself to meet his gaze and tilt her chin up and she didn’t think she imagined the way his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. In an appraising sort of way. 

“I really would have told you. Eventually” “I know.” “I’m serious.” “I know,” Belle repeated, “and I’m really not threatened by someone who you still regularly refer to as Little Vankald.” Anna flipped him off. Or them, maybe. As a collective unit. Belle wanted them to be a collective unit. “I could order a jersey online, right?” “Nah, I know people, don’t waste your money.” “Could probably get Kris to help,” Anna added, “as the physical form of my apology.” Belle waved her off. “It was a good story. Highs, lows, drama, does your—do we call him your brother-in-law? He’s not the Alien Leader, right?” “You mean Liam?” Will’s laugh was more like a barely-contained snort of humor and shoulders that were tight for a reason that did not involve pessimistic emotions. Belle’s lips twitched. “Just knew that off the top of your head, did you?” she asked. 

“If you knew Liam, you’d understand. Was Scarlet suggesting we’re all aliens?” “Nah, just him.” “I did no such thing,” Will objected, another glance in Anna’s direction, “Cap looking for us?” She nodded. “Locksley too. Should I be worried Mom and Dad are getting a divorce?” “You’re the most dramatic person alive.” “Lots of hand moving between the two of you, your girlfriend was worried.”

It was Belle’s turn to tense. With what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Some sort of emotion, she assumed. Adrenaline, maybe. Hope, possibly. And it wasn’t like she was waiting for labels, but she’d come to pretty good terms with her ability to counter herself in the midst of her own silent monologue, and Will was staring again. Straight through her, it seemed. 

Or maybe directly into her. 

That was sentimental, though. 

“Does Killian know that you two made out once?” Anna hissed. “If you tell KJ about this, I will actually have to strangle you, no matter how much I like you and how much Scarlet wants to date you.” “Aren’t we dating already?” Anna opened her mouth, what Belle knew would be more sarcasm and the teasing nature of her and Will’s relationship, but she had more pressing issues, and he answered, anyway. “Yeah, we totally are, plus I like you way more than I hate Ariel’s inevitable victory lap, so I mean, that’s—” Cutting him off was rude. Not nice. Inevitable. 

Based solely on the size of his eyes and their gold-like nature. 

“I, uh—” Belle started, “I know we’re not supposed to accept the set-up, and Ariel’s going to be so annoying, but maybe we could…” She shrugged. Tried to stay focused. And upright. Continued standing seemed important in a moment like this. “We’re both kinda messed up, don’t you think?” “Little,” Will murmured. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and I know that we’re...I mean, this is good, and I’m mostly good with it, but also, I was super nervous during the game, and what were you guys fighting about?” “Fighting is a strong word. More like discussing how Locksley should learn to keep his stick on the ice so he can get that tip from my slap.” “Weird turn of phrase.” “Slap shot.” “No time for full terminology, huh?” “How goes the understanding icing battle?” She was going to sprain her cheeks. Maybe Ariel could help with that. After gloating. Ariel was absolutely going to gloat. “Getting there,” Belle promised, and it was not about hockey, “don’t you think?” “Mmhm.” “So, uh—I don’t know what you do after games, but…” “Little Vankald is totally here to drag us uptown because Cap regularly challenges her in the dramatics, and I bet he’s hungry.” “You eat after games?” “Ariel’s husband owns that restaurant.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s how I met her actually. Good onion rings. Weird we didn’t ever see each other there at the same time, though.” Will hummed. Stuck out his lower lip. Challenged her without saying anything, and Anna was still standing there, and security had to be aware of them, but Belle was in the middle of something, and it was good and great and made absolutely no sense because she was not a pro sports girlfriend, but the labels really weren’t important, and it was all—

She gasped. For, like, the four-thousandth time that night. 

Saved the best for last, though. 

Will’s mouth found hers in a crashing sort of way that altered the cosmos, or at least Belle’s perception of the world around her. Particularly when her hands were suddenly more like barnacles, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he’d disappear otherwise. Knuckles cracked and breath caught, everything spinning and staying frustratingly still, and one of her heels popped out of her shoe. Pressing back up on her toes didn’t do her calves any favors, but she wasn’t bruised and they were both a disaster, and the tongue thing really was pretty fantastic. 

Tracing the inside of her mouth and the seam of her lips, Will’s rumble of pleasure echoed between her ribs, enough to spur Belle’s arm up as she slung it around his neck. Her fingers found skin and short hair, nails scratching so she could hear that sound again. 

She closed her eyes. 

Let the details seep in, and settle into her soul. 

Until Anna coughed, and there was a security guard standing next to her, and Will’s head dropped to Belle’s collar bone again. He kissed there, too. Before spinning on his sandals, all confidence, and bravado, a reasonable excuse that someone, somewhere, would probably believe. Not this security guard, but that probably wasn’t important, and Belle had helped Will make an Instagram account. 

So, something about a cat and a bag and—

His fingers laced through hers. 

“Wanna challenge Locksley to a fight for my honor?” She scrunched her nose. Pretended to grimace when his lips pressed against her cheek. Anna gagged. “Yeah,” Belle said, “that’s exactly what I want to do.”

[niallloverontheloose]

“Sterek and Steter fans dislike Scott McCall because he is the most important character of Teen Wolf”

https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/646995619305619456/the-whole-thing-with-the-boy-who-runs-with#notes

@russianspacegeckosexparty: The whole thing with “the boy who runs with wolves” fandom fixates on is that… at it’s root? I don’t disagree! You absolutely can/should talk about the fact a regular human works with + fights alongside supernatural creatures and is a part of the Pack (and its first member after Scott). But instead of actually delving into that, they always use it to show Stiles’s superiority to them (mostly Scott). Countless fic where Stiles is basically a one man army with all their skillsets rolled into one person, which…. goes against the whole “pack dynamic”. They contradict themselves by simultaneously wanting him far away from the pack after showing them up with his Spark powers and they don’t “deserve” him… but also they want him the most important member (when packs don’t have rankings of importance + multiple people can be good at something + that’s OK cuz being in the McCall Pack isn’t about filling a niche, it’s about being friends and allies)

Claude @princeescaluswords Frollo:

This is one of the things that drives me crazy about how parts of the Teen Wolf fandom and especially the Sterek and Steter fandoms react to the show. They simply cannot recognize that even though the show is about Scott, the production never made Stiles unimportant.

Stiles is intrinsic to every single season. He makes significant contributions to the plot throughout the season and is tactically important in every single climax. The writers literally created things for him to do that were completely unnecessary to a plot’s resolution in order to remind the audience that while this is Scott’s story, a big part of that story is his friendship with Stiles.

In Season 1, he is the one who turned the tide of the final battle by throwing the first Molotov cocktail (Steter shippers hate that). In Season 2, he delivers Lydia to the warehouse so she could help Jackson. In Season 3A, he saves the people trapped in the root cellar with a timely arrival, etc. Stiles has a significant role in every season even when he was possessed, kidnapped to another dimension, or in Washington D.C.

And yet, he doesn’t have the most important role, and to them, that is something that cannot be borne.

Now, take any month of writing in the Teen Wolf fandom on AO3. Look at the top story by kudos and/or hits. Hell, look at the top twenty stories by kudos and/or hits. If Scott is in that story – which isn’t a given – I will bet you that in ninety-five percent of those stories Scott is either a background character or an antagonist. In the other five percent, he’s the villain.

But isn’t that the nature of transformative works? There are certain tropes that people like to apply and choosing love over friendship seems to be very big. Except there’s something you might notice. All of this is dependent on reducing or condemning the role of Scott in Stiles’s life. Even if he’s a good friend, he gets diminished to the role of emotional support animal.

It really isn’t about Stiles yearning for love and affection. It is, frankly, transformation with the specific goal of righting the show’s wrong of making a hero of color the central character.

It’s the same reason that the BAMF Stiles stories almost never have Stiles placed into positions where he has to make significant choices, because it’s not about the nature of power, it’s about Stiles being more important than Scott. You know how I know this? Because Stiles almost never uses his power for any other reasons but his own comfort. The purpose of power is Stiles’s triumph and nothing else.

It’s the same among the “Ensemble, Ensemble, Ensemble!” crowd. These people go full meta, but their goal is the same. They can’t stand that a hero of color is the central focus, so they argue, quite simply, that he isn’t. Except that there’s not a single plotline on Teen Wolf that doesn’t involve or concern or require Scott in some way. Even Derek and Peter’s field trip to Mexico is ultimately about Derek anointing Scott as the Protector of Beacon Hills. Even Kate framing Derek in Season 6 is about her coming for Scott and Derek coming to protect him.

And there are plenty of plotlines that don’t include other characters. You don’t need to look any farther than the incandescent rage of parts of the fandom that Stiles wasn’t involved in Scott’s Master Plan against Gerard. How dare Scott not tell Stiles? How dare Scott not run it past Stiles? Because it’s not Stiles’s story and it’s not an ensemble. It’s Scott’s story, and Stiles isn’t involved in that part of Scott’s story. It’s the same reason that Deucalion’s disinterest in Stiles frustrates them to no end.

So they, in the dull, baffled rage common to most racists when confronted with the idea that not all stories have to focus on a white character, move to alleviate that stress by creating an alternative world where the white character IS the most important person, regardless of whether that makes any sense or not. (Not just in Teen Wolf. I’m seeing the same thing where Bucky Barnes has become the absolute focus of the fandom surrounding The Falcon and the Winter Soldier to the point where you look at their works and go Sam Who? Or the Julie and the Phantoms fandom where you’d have to search to find out who the hell Julie is.) And well, as for the hero of color who had the nerve to be more important and the focus of the story? Well, they have to demonstrate how just unworthy he is to even be considered a main character.

And so, The Boy Who Runs with Wolves is wasted, because they want more than anything else to turn it into The Boy Who Runs the Wolves. And that’s not what Teen Wolf is about.

//

Except that Teen Wolf is an ensemble show. Even Tyler Posey has no problem acknowledging it. So why do Scott Stans?

Teen Wolf Season 3B – aka the highest rated and most critically acclaimed Teen Wolf season ever – is entirely focused on Stiles Stilinski and on Void Stiles with star & breakout star of the show Dylan O’Brien as its front and center. Stiles is the main and central character in Season 3B. Scott’s just the oblivious sidekick ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Of course the Scott McCall defense squad could argue that Scott is important because he has a season that revolved around him, too: Teen Wolf Season 6 was supposed to be Tyler Posey’s time to shine, and it’s the season in which Posey felt like “the leader and star of my own show again”. Jeff Davis and the show writers/producers took full advantage of Dylan O’Brien, Tyler Hoechlin, Stiles and Derek’s absence and made Season 6A/B all about Scott McCall. The results? Fans stopped watching and Teen Wolf got cancelled due to shitty ratings.

Also: the only ones who hate the fact that Stiles wasn’t involved in Scott’s dumb Master Plan and that Scott plotted/conspired with Gerard behind everyone’s back to violate Derek are Scott Stans themselves; and that’s only because they can’t even try to blame Stiles for Scott’s own abusive actions and behavior in Season 2

[back-and-totheleft]

Outsider in a Barbie world

As we sit down to start our interview, Oliver Stone makes a point of putting his own dictaphone on the table to record our conversation. “To protect ourselves,” he says, before going on to speak non-stop for 45 minutes with absolutely no filter, on virtually any topic I raise, and quite a few I don’t.

He’s dressed in a smart blazer and shirt but he looks a little wild, his greying hair unruly and his brow wet from the baking sun that floods through the windows of the hotel suite. He clutches a yellow silk handkerchief, which he uses to alternately gesticulate and wipe his face.

To break the ice I mention that the boss of the toy company Mattel, who I had interviewed earlier that day, had jokingly asked if Stone would like to direct Barbie 2.

“Ridiculous,” Stone growls. “Ryan Gosling is wasting his time if he’s doing that shit for money. He should be doing more serious films. He shouldn’t be a part of this infantilization of Hollywood. Now it’s all fantasy, fantasy, fantasy, including all the war pictures: fantasy, fantasy. Even the Fast and Furious movies, which I used to enjoy, have become like Marvel movies. I mean, how many crashes can you see?”

Then, apropos of nothing, he changes the subject and suddenly we’re talking about how much he hates Virgin Airlines.

“I went through a nightmare the other day. I was flying Virgin to London. [Richard] Branson has a special place in hell reserved for him. Dante couldn’t make this up. That plane he’s designed is a sardine can. The seats are like straitjackets. I haven’t slept a fucking inch.”

He sighs, putting his head in his hands. “It’s a depressing nightmare…”

He looks up, perhaps noticing the slightly baffled look on my face. “Oh yeah, so on the plane I watched John Wick, which is three hours and some. And I fell asleep about 778 times during it. I kept waking up and having to face him killing more people. It’s like the world has degenerated into non-logic.”

This is quite the introduction to the mind of Oliver Stone, the Oscar-winning director of stone-cold bangers including Platoon, Wall Street, Born on the Fourth of July and JFK, and writer of Midnight Express, Scarface and Natural Born Killers.

In his early nineties heyday his stories of troubled outsiders helped to define a generation of movies. Then his output began to slow, the number of duds eventually surpassing the number of hits, until he seemed to vacate the Hollywood mainstream altogether (his last big feature film was Snowden, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, in 2016).

Now aged 76, he is predominantly a documentary-maker, having worked alongside Sulichin on 16 films and counting. One of these – a turning point in his public image – was a series of sympathetic interviews conducted with Vladimir Putin, who he has more or less defended ever since.

“I was filming Snowden, who many people in the West still consider a traitor. Lunacy! He’s a real hero! He ended up in Moscow, so the last scenes of the film were shot there. The world is relatively small so [Putin] knew I was there. He agreed to meet me and talk about the Snowden affair, which I used as a basis to make the documentary.”

I wonder if he’s revised his opinion of the dictator since the invasion of Ukraine? “No,” he replies without missing a beat. Then he seems to catch himself: “I don’t want to get into that, because it’s not important and it would take over the other issues.”

But it is important, I suggest, because his views on Putin will affect the way people receive his work, including his new documentary.

“If it does, they’re missing the point. Because this is far bigger than this war. It’s bigger than Mr. Putin and Mr. Biden, it’s about the future.”

Stone is no stranger to controversy – ever since he wrote the screenplay for Midnight Express he has been accused of pushing a problematic vision of heroic machismo, and yet forty years later he’s still making movies. Is he impossible to cancel?

We’re cancelling too many talented people. The world has become more puritan and boring and narrow. We should entertain all kinds of thought. That’s how we get better.

“That’s a great expression. I like that. Because we’re cancelling too many talented people. The world has become more puritan and boring and narrow. We should entertain all kinds of thought. That’s how we get better.”

Given so many of his films seem to focus on outsiders, I wonder if he considers himself one? “I guess I do,” he replies wearily, touching his head with the handkerchief.

“I’m an only child. I never tried to fit the profile of a rebel but when you take in all my work, there is a lot of anger and rebellion.”

That anger is certainly evident in Nuclear Now. It’s a strange beast, made up of both archive footage and new material (mostly Stone interviewing nuclear scientists, often in Russia). Part infotainment, part pro-nuclear propaganda, it’s a kind of mash up of Adam Curtis and the sort of film a teacher might wheel into a classroom on a rainy day.

Clips from Godzilla and Dr. Strangelove sit beside endearingly low-fi scientific diagrams and computer generations of nuclear reactors.

“I wanted to explain nuclear energy,” he says. “What is it? What’s the origin? People all have an opinion but they just don’t know. I hate that.

“It’s like everyone has an opinion on Kennedy but they don’t do any research: ‘Oh yeah, he was killed from the front, blah, blah, blah. Oswald is guilty.’ It’s the same thing with nuclear, people are against it but their reasons are bogus. They haven’t even f***ing studied it. You have to start with knowledge.”

Stone acknowledges Al Gore’s seminal climate change documentary An Inconvenient Truth, which won him a Nobel Prize, was “important” but he thinks Gore missed the point; to paraphrase James Carville: it’s nuclear, stupid!

Nuclear energy is not the ugly sister that you hide in the back – it’s Cinderella. She’s not ugly, she’s beautiful

“People worry about nuclear waste and meanwhile the whole world is choking on fossil fuel waste. That’s silly. Trillions of dollars have been invested in solar and wind and hydropower. Everything possible is being discussed, except for nuclear. We had Davos last year and it’s not even on the agenda. It has to be on the agenda. It has to be talked about. It’s not the ugly sister that you hide in the back, you know, it’s Cinderella. She’s not ugly, she’s beautiful.”

Does he think Nuclear Now will have as big an impact as An Inconvenient Truth? “It should but it probably won’t, because we didn’t have Vice President Al Gore as our frontman. I wish we had an Einstein around, or an Oppenheimer, I could use him. But we don’t have that today. I guess we don’t cherish and value science the same way we used to.”

Perhaps that contributed to how difficult it was to get Nuclear Now made in the first place. “Studios know how to push serial killers or the Tiger Dominator,” says Sulichin, “But not things that will educate or enlighten. There are two documentary markets, the market for films with a murderer or a serial killer, which will get a good deal. Then you have other films, which are tough.

“It was hard to raise the money for Nuclear Now and it was hard to distribute. But it’s a good film, and when the film is good, people will watch it. The word is spreading. The film has had great success in the United States and we are slowly, with a level of effort, achieving beyond our goals. Last week, this movie was number one on iTunes, which was a pleasant surprise.”

So how did they get it funded?

“Through myself and other people I know who are philanthropists,” says Sulichin. “A Polish woman who makes uniforms for nurses, entrepreneurs from Silicon Valley, a lot of interesting people who believe in nuclear. We accepted credit cards, bitcoins.”

This is a narrative I feel Stone can get behind, pushing his righteous agenda in the face of overwhelming odds.

Nuclear Now ends not with an apocalypse but a vision for a slightly cheesy possible future: crystal-clear water and verdant forests, an antediluvian paradise, brought to you by nuclear fission.

“I wanted the Barbie doll ending! The film is depressing in the beginning. We throw all the shit in your face and say, ‘Look, this is the worst it can be’. And then we end with positive notions of the future, how nuclear can make… more of a Barbie world.”

-Steve Dinneen, "Oliver Stone on Putin, nuclear power and feeling like an outsider," City AM, June 22 2023