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sweeter-innocence-fics · 8 months ago

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You Brought Your Worst and I’m Right Here - Chapter Three: … and you have grabbed the scissors

Pairing: Gale of Waterdeep x female Tav

Work Summary:

After an explosive falling out between Gale and his academic adviser, Mystra, Tav is left to pick up the pieces.

Modern/College AU.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2519

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

In case you couldn't tell, I adore Wyll. If you also love him, I posted a modern/college AU one-shot for Wyll/Tav the other day, so check that out if you fancy it.

Warnings for vomiting, depression, anxiety

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Back during her first week at university, Tav hadn’t been coping well with being thrust suddenly into adulthood. She was eighteen years old, a long way from home, with no friends or family within a hundred miles of the city where she now lived. Her assigned housemates were all perfectly nice, but she was painfully shy and had seemingly very little in common with them. Her social anxiety was at an all-time high.

One morning, she had an orientation for a maths module, but she had somehow managed to sleep through her alarm and so was running late.

She was mortified. Standing outside of the lecture theatre, one hand on the door, it took all of her energy not to turn around and go right back to bed. Steeling herself, she opened the door.

A few heads turned her way. The lecture theatre was almost full. There was nowhere she could sit quietly, away from everyone else. She was about ready to turn tail and flee, when someone waved at her, catching her eye.

The boy definitely had more books on his desk than was necessary. Tav didn’t think the reading list for this module was even that long. He gestured to the empty seat beside him, giving her a questioning look. Tav took the seat gratefully.

She recognised the boy from some of her other orientations. He was handsome, with warm, dark eyes and shoulder length brown hair tied up into a loose bun.

“You looked lost,” he said, quietly.

She flushed. “No, just… looking for somewhere to sit.”

“Well, you found it.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Gale.”

“Tav,” she said, shaking his hand. It was an oddly formal greeting, but Gale was strange like that.

Tav thought that that would be the end of it, but at the end of the lecture, as she was packing her things into her bag, he turned to her again.

“What did you think of the lecture?” he asked. “Personally it feels like we’re going to be re-treading a lot of old ground here, but then, not everyone did A Level Further Maths, I suppose.” This maths module was compulsory for science students, so it covered a pretty broad range of topics.

She shrugged. “I must admit, I’m a little rusty.”

“Well, if you ever need any pointers-” He was cut off by an embarrassingly loud growl from her stomach. There was a moment of awkward silence where she wished that the ground would swallow her whole, but then he said “Hungry?” She took a moment to assess whether he might’ve been teasing her, but he seemed earnest.

“I didn’t have a chance to have breakfast.”

“I’m pretty peckish myself. The campus café has pretty good breakfasts. Cheap, too. Do you fancy it?”

He was smiling at her now. If it was anyone else, she might’ve felt unnerved, but there was something so kind about his expression.

“Sure.”

The rest was history.

Tav fell asleep in the back of the car on the way home from the hospital. Her face was pressed against the cool glass, and she only stirred when Shadowheart put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” said Shadowheart softly. “We ordered pizza. Should be here in twenty minutes.”

Tav glanced around. They were parked right outside their house.

“Did you get garlic pizza bread?” she asked hazily.

“Sure did. Wedges too. Come on.”

Tav braced herself from the cold outside. It was almost two in the morning now. It was lucky that, being a student town, their local pizza place was open until 4am.

The air was bitingly cold. Rain whipped at the skin of her face. Wyll had gone ahead and opened the front door, so she rushed inside and out of the cold, Shadowheart close behind her. Tav didn’t realise she was trembling until she felt Shadowheart’s hands push hers out of the way, helping her unzip her jacket.

“Pyjamas, pizza, and then bed,” said Shadowheart, firmly. “Don’t fall asleep before the food arrives.”

“I won’t.”

“Come on.”

Tav couldn’t help but glance at Gale’s bedroom door as they passed it. It was wide open, and they must’ve forgotten to turn off the light earlier, because it was still on. Gale’s bed stared back at her, tauntingly, traces of vomit encrusted in the sheets. By the time she felt the bile rushing up her throat, it was too late.

“Shit!” Shadowheart jumped back to avoid getting puked on. Tav collapsed against the wall, hands on her knees. Her eyes were wet with tears. A shuddering sob escaped her lips. She covered her mouth, embarrassed, ashamed. “Hey, hey,” murmured Shadowheart. “It’s okay, it’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Is everything alright up there?” called Astarion from downstairs. He popped his head out into the hallway and then grimaced at the sight in front of him.

“We could use a hand.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ll get Wyll.”

“Astarion.”

He sighed. “Fine, I’ll help.”

“You d-don’t have to,” said Tav, breath catching awkwardly between sobs. “I’ll do it, I made the mess-”

“You will do no such thing,” said Astarion. “You go and get yourself cleaned up. You’re a mess, darling.”

“Come on,” said Shadowheart again, tugging Tav towards the main bathroom. “You should shower. You’ll feel much better when you do.”

“Okay,” said Tav numbly.

“Do you want my help?”

Tav shook her head awkwardly. Her and Jen had got changed in front of each other many times. Being the only two girls in the house, they had seen each other in various states of undress countless times. Plus, with Shadowheart’s hospital experience, she had seen far worse. Still, Tav wanted to be alone for a little while.

First, she brushed her teeth. As she was doing so, there was a knock on the door. She opened it to see Shadowheart again, holding a pair of Tav’s pyjamas, clean underwear and a bottle of water.

“Drink this,” she said, passing the water to Tav. “And sorry I went through your drawers but I figured it would make it easier. I’ll see you downstairs in a little bit?”

“Sure.”

Once she was alone, it took a lot of energy for Tav to coax herself into the shower. It was only the promise of pizza that waited for her once she was done that kept her going.

Shadowheart had been right. Clean and dressed in fresh pyjamas, she did feel better physically, if not emotionally. She trudged down the stairs and found her flatmates sitting around the living room, digging in to their pizzas.

None of them were talking. It was strange to eat without conversation, or the tv on in the background, but she understood why. She didn’t know what to say, either.

She collapsed onto the big sofa where they’d saved a space for her and picked up her own pizza box. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was until the food was right in front of her. She hadn’t been able to think about eating since she found Gale, and it was catching up with her now.

She ate ravenously, barely taking time to swallow between bites. In any other situation, she was sure her friends would be calling her out for her terrible table manners, but no one said anything.

After a little bit, the mania that seemed to have gripped her subsided. She felt full and a little sick. Still, no one was talking.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Wyll who finally broached what they’d all been thinking.

“Why didn’t he just talk to us?” he said, a tremor in his voice. Tav didn’t have an answer. She wiped her greasy hands on the wipes that the restaurant provided, and then put her arms around him.

It was about midday when Tav woke to a gentle knocking on her bedroom door. For a moment, she was confused, her eyes almost crusted shut, feeling more exhausted than she ever had before.

Wyll opened the door and poked his head in.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry for waking you. Me and Astarion are going to see Gale now. Do you want to come with?”

Tav’s stomach lurched, memories of the day before flooding in.

Wyll must’ve seen something in the expression on her face, because he said, “You don’t have to, I know you must be exhausted, I just figured you’d want to know that we were going.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. In truth, she really, really didn’t want to go back to the hospital. Now that she knew that Gale was alive, the urgency to see him was gone. The shame in his eyes, the way he wouldn’t look at her: it was all unbearable.

But she couldn’t say no. What kind of person would she be if she refused to go and see her supposed best friend in the hospital after a suicide attempt?

She pulled back the covers and started to get to her feet.

“Are you alright?” asked Wyll. “You don’t look very well.” She paused in her movements, looking up at him. He looked conflicted. “We can absolutely wait for you if you want to come with us, but please don’t feel pressured to if you’re not feeling well. Gale wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick.”

“I should… stay…” said Tav, feeling unquestionably relieved. She was pretty sure Wyll had been intentionally giving her an out.

“Do you need anything? More water?”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay. Jen will probably check on you in a bit, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you later.”

And with that, he left her alone. She shuffled to the end of her bed so that she could pull her curtains open. When she saw how sunny it was outside, she almost regretted it. She was so tired, and now she had another reason to feel guilty about not getting out of bed. She could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head saying “it’s a beautiful day, why are you wasting it in bed?”

“Shut up,” she muttered to herself and then she lay back down and pulled the covers over herself again.

Over the next few days, it became a bit of a routine. Tav was becoming an expert in finding reasons not to visit Gale in hospital. She was ill, or she had studying to do, or she had classes to go to. None of her friends ever pushed her.

It wasn’t like Gale was alone. As well as all of their flatmates, there were a whole lot of their mutual friends – Karlach, Lae’zel, Minsc – who were all too happy to take turns visiting him. Wyll was there almost every day. His mother was there doting over him too.

According to Wyll, Gale wasn’t allowed to leave until he’d done a few mandated psychiatric appointments. That made sense to her. She was glad he was getting help.

On the fourth day of Gale’s hospital stay, Tav got a text from him that made the guilt hit her stomach like a stone.

Missing you

Suddenly, every excuse that she’d used to avoid seeing him was rattling around in her brain. She was an arsehole. Why couldn’t she bring herself to go and see her friend who needed her?

She stared at the text. What could she possibly say? “Sorry, I’ve just been so busy”? That was a weak excuse. “Sorry, the thought of you dying has sent me into a depressive spiral and I can barely get out of bed most days”? Hardly something she could say over text. “I miss you too”? Then why the fuck hadn’t she gone to see him?

So she ignored it. She swallowed the clawing, anxious guilt that sat in her chest, and she ignored him.

She would never say it loud, but a part of her was so, so angry with him. They were best friends. She loved him. Why hadn’t he told her what was going on with him?

He had always been pretty arrogant. Is that what this was? Was he too prideful to admit he needed help? What had she ever done to deserve being cut out the way she had? Why hadn’t he trusted her?

She knew she was being unreasonable. Depression wasn’t fair or rational. Her friendship wasn’t enough to save him, evidently. That wasn’t his fault.

She had shed more tears over this over the past few days than she’d care to admit. Her flatmates had seen her breakdown by now more times than she could count. Still, when someone knocked on her bedroom door that evening, she did her best to scrub away the obvious tears on her cheeks.

To her relief, it was Shadowheart. She wasn’t sure she could handle the pitying way that Wyll and Astarion had taken to looking at her right now.

“Hey, can I come in?” she asked.

“Go ahead,” said Tav.

Shadowheart shut the door behind her and came and sat on Tav’s bed. “I just got back from the hospital. Gale is coming home tomorrow.”

“That’s- that’s good.” Tav’s voice was shaky and weak. Jen put a hand on her arm. “That’s…”

Tav was blinking furiously. Gale was getting out of hospital. That was good, right? She no longer needed to come up with excuses not to see him. Still, her stomach twisted with the guilt that she had managed to go for his entire hospital stay only seeing him once. Didn’t she love him? What kind of monster doesn’t go and see the person they love in hospital?

Shadowheart pulled her into a hug. Tav trembled against her, closing her eyes.

“I’m an arsehole,” she whimpered.

“No, you’re not,” said Shadowheart.

“I am. I never went to see him. I never-”

“Tav…”

“I love him, Jen.” The words burst out of her, making her heart clench. Jen, to her credit, didn’t seem at all surprised. “I love him so much and I can’t even bring myself to come and see him when he clearly needs it. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. This is hard for all of us.”

“I’m the only one acting like this!”

“You’re closer to him than anyone. It makes sense that you would react more strongly.” Shadowheart was rubbing her back gently. Tav trembled, feeling like she didn’t deserve the comfort.

“Gale needs me.”

“Gale needs all of us. You can’t take care of him at your own expense, Tav. Gale has never been alone through this. He’s got me and Wyll and Astarion. Karlach and Lae’zel. His mum. And everyone else. Don’t ever feel like you’re abandoning him. He has so many loved ones around him to look after him. He is not alone. You need to look after yourself first.”

Tav didn’t have an answer to that. It was too late to change the past. All she could do now is try to do her best going forward.

“Wyll’s cooking tonight,” said Shadowheart. “We were thinking of watching a movie. You wanna join us?”

Tav nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

Next Chapter

#bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #bg3 fic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

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mydaroga · 2 years ago

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Initial Thoughts on Hunter Davies’ The Beatles

I am thinking about posting quotes/notes I kept while reading, for my own edification if nothing else, but for now, here’s a few thoughts on the book as a whole.

I really liked it. But I’ll cut for length in case you don’t care why!

I know John said, later, that it was sanitized and ‘fake’ and all the rest, but I think his opinion was colored by several things: the fact they did deliberately suppress several facts about his family as well as Brian’s sexuality, as well as his general turn against that whole period. I understand why he felt this way, and he’s a right to, as it’s his life and he’s close to it. But that was not my experience of the book at all. I don’t agree with all of Davies’ opinions, but I think his attempt is honest and as forthright as it can be given the requests made of him. I do think he knows these men as well as one could given the parameters, and his observations and insights are interesting. Indeed, far more illuminating than Norman’s Shout!, which is the first bio I read and full of unspoken bias and facts that have since been debunked.

One of the redeeming features of this book is that, in the forward and afterward(s), Hunter takes pains to illustrate where he went wrong and why, while also arguing the case as to why he left the bulk of the book intact upon further printing. I think this makes it a really valuable historical document--he says outright that he got things wrong, so it is unfortunate if, say, people keep using him as a source to say John was born during an air raid, but he’s also honest about it left as is, we still have a record about where future inaccuracies come from.

The book also says a lot, inadvertently, about Beatles fandom and study, in that it reads unlike any other bio I’ve read. It’s not at all a fan mag, glossy hagiography. But at the same time, it’s got some of the breezy tone missing from ‘serious’ scholarship. It doesn’t know what it is, yet, because while I’m not an expert on 60s pop biography I don’t think this thing existed yet, in full form. I think Davies is creating something, maybe not by himself, but as part of a cultural movement where celebrity is changing and stars are becoming more than flash in the pan style makers. They are becoming public figures we look to and study, worthy of that distinction or not. And Davies is trying to split the difference between hot off the presses celebrity hype and being a book of historical record. And I think that’s why the style reads strangely, to me. Because he knows, somewhere deep down, that this is Actually Important, but there doesn’t yet exist a cultural format for that. Elvis was also Important, as was Sinatra or whomever, but I’m not sure anyone knew how to write about that yet. I think it’s part of a shift in our culture, and it reflects that.

I also think it’s a great picture of where the Beatles were at that time, of what they were going through in those months just before it started to go bad, and in that sense it’s also invaluable. As Davies says, he had no idea what was coming, but when you read it now, you can see the cracks. So as a total bio of the band, obviously it’s lacking. But as a document of what it must have felt like before you realized it was falling apart, it’s essential. Maybe no one’s saying everything they’re thinking or feeling, maybe certain prurient details are left out, but this is by no means scraped clean of their rougher edges. They curse, they admit bad behavior, John is already saying everything’s a fraud, Cynthia’s admitting they wouldn’t be married if it hadn’t been for Julian. This isn’t the glossed over Beatles at all--it’s just the Beatles before they, or we, knew the full story. And that makes it, along with Love Me Do by Michael Braun, actually unlike any other book out there.

Any thoughts?

#like i said i might post my notes/quotes i kept #but i have been very lazy lately so i wanted to get this out there while i had the will #the beatles #beatles books #kris reads hunter davies #hunter davies #kris talks a lot

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phoneybeatlemania · 2 years ago

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I posted 960 times in 2022

That's 831 more posts than 2021!

363 posts created (38%)

597 posts reblogged (62%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@idontwanttospoiltheparty

@phoneybeatlemania

@charlesandkeef

@frodolives

@themagicalmysticalboy

I tagged 947 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#asks - 136 posts

#a day in (my) life - 120 posts

#beatles - 102 posts

#anon - 98 posts

#paul mccartney - 89 posts

#quotes - 88 posts

#john lennon - 69 posts

#pauls psyche - 53 posts

#song talks - 52 posts

#johns psyche - 51 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#but maybe hes just being friendly because i dont actually know what good relationships between people are supposed to look like 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

My Top Posts in 2022:

You Just Scream: Janovs homophobia & John Lennon

“You've got to hide your love away…”

(Cw: Homophobic speech and slurs)

This post is part 1 in a series of essays I'm working on, entitled “You Just Scream: John & Janov", which aim to explore and investigate the effect Arthur Janov’s therapy sessions had on John Lennon. This essay will focus on the question: “did Janov give John gay conversion therapy?”.

Also, this post is extremely long–I’m aware lol–but 1. I promise a lot of it is just interviews and evidence, most of which you don’t have to read in full and 2. I have cut it into sections, so it should be fairly easy to skip to the parts you are really interested in reading!

Abstract:

So I said (ages ago, whoops) id post some quotes from Arthur Janov’s book The Primal Scream: the cure for neurosis for anyone interested getting a clearer insight into how Janov perceived of homosexuality—which is unequivocally negatively. I was initially interested in researching this, because I was somewhat confounded with the ‘Janov gave John Lennon conversion therapy’ argument, since I could see valid points on both sides. I knew it was true that Janov definitely held homophobic beliefs, but I was sceptical considering John still continued to joke around and hint at his sexuality, allegedly came out (to differing degrees based on who you ask) to those around him, and depending how much trust and reliance you place on certain sources, he might have "fooled around" with other men throughout the 70s. And I also wondered how deeply rooted Janov’s homophobia was, considering that when Janov published The Primal Scream in 1970, homosexuality was still deemed to be a mental illness (in the DSM-3), and would not be declassified as such until 1973—so essentially, it would not have been uncommon for psychologists to affiliate with homophobic theories and beliefs. What I wanted to discern was exactly how fundamental and present these beliefs were within Janov’s therapeutic practices.

But it was when I came across evidences revealing that Brian and Spain were topics of discussion during therapy, that made me decide to finally run a thorough investigation into this topic.

Recognising Janov's misconceptions surrounding the psychology of sexuality, and additionally noting that he was, at least for some time, a massive influence on John—as well as combining this with the evidence that they did discuss Johns bisexuality, it’s more then likely that Janov would have negatively impacted Johns relationship with his own sexuality. John, having spent an extensive and intimate amount of time with someone who saw homosexuality as a product of emotional and mental turmoil, was negatively influenced by his presence and beliefs.

So in this essay, I will be trying to discern an answer to the question: did Janov give John Lennon ‘gay conversion therapy’?

First off, what are Janov’s core beliefs, and how homophobic was he really?

Ive compiled various extracts from Janov’s book, The Primal Scream, which should provide you with an impression of his fundamental beliefs concerning homosexuality. I have also bolded sections of these extracts that I believe could have resonated with John, further alluring him towards Janov’s pseudoscience.

‘The homosexual act is not a sexual one.It is based on the denial of real sexuality…A truly sexual person is heterosexual. The homosexual has usually eroticised his need so that he appears to be highly sexed. Bereft of his sexual fix, his lover, he is like an addict without his connection; without his lover, he is in the pain that is always there but which is drained off sexually. But sex is not the ultimate goal — love is.’ (pg. 302)

‘If a man makes love to a woman but is totally involved during it with a fantasy about men, I would call the experience homosexual. The motions one goes through are less critical than the internal situation. When a person actually makes love to a member of his own sex, it means he is more totally involved in the symbolic behaviour…He has given up the battle and become more completely what he is not…There are men and women who have homosexual marriages but do not recognise the fact.’ (pg. 302-3)

‘It has been my experience that homosexuality may derive from any number of permutations of family interaction. A homosexual boy can have a weak father, tyrannical father, no father.What matters is that the boy has a need for a loving father…Many homosexuals do not seem to realise what appears so obvious — they are in pursuit of substitutes…What gives the sexual search of the homosexual such intensity is the need to feel loved at last and so to find an end to nagging tension.’ (pg. 303-4)

‘I do not think we are dealing with bisexual so much as with neurosis. So many of us have been deprived of love from both parents that there is often a lingering need for love from either sex.’ (pg. 308)

Additionally, there have been contemporaneous articles written by Janov and other primal therapy doctors, which offer further clarity concerning Janov’s stance on homosexuality. @eppysboys made a post (x) shedding more light on Janov’s beliefs concerning sexuality, so I would encourage you to read through that for further information on this topic. But for the purpose of this essay, I have collected extracts which especially focus on Primal Therapy being used as a means of ‘gay conversion therapy’.

“[Janov] claims that primal therapy has cured alcoholism, homosexuality, smoking…” — Boca Raton News, (June 16. 1971)

“Critical of the decision of the American Psychological Association in 1973 to remove homosexuality as a neurosis in its Diagnostic Statistic Manual, Janov called the decision a “disservice to homosexuals. It tells them that they are well when they are wracked with Pain and tension.” [The Primal Institute Newsletter, October, 1979, pg. 4]” — The Origins of Homosexuality: Insights From The Deep Feeling Psychotherapies by John A. Speyrer

“On occasion homosexuality has been reversed after a person has re-experienced very early and deep pain. Often homosexuality is a symbolic act out of early unmet needs and for that reason there are different scenarios or sequences of events which lead up to the first homosexual act.” — The Origins of Homosexuality: Insights From The Deep Feeling Psychotherapies by John A. Speyrer (c. 2000s)

“So if homosexuality is normal it cannot ever be treated and changed? I have found that not to be true. A few of my homosexual patients do change after many many months of therapy and very deep probing into the brain and the unconscious… If patients could be helped back into their remote history we would see the pain involved into homosexuality…” — On Homosexuality as a Normal Variant of Human Sexuality by Arthur Janov (c. 2012)

“Is homosexuality genetic? We have successfully treated it, which makes the assumption that it is a disease.” — What Is More Important Genes or Epigenes? By Arthur Janov (c. 2015)

“A priest who seduced one of my patients over years left him homosexual. It was the only “love” he ever got and he was seduced by it. That is, all of us get seduced by our need.” — So Why Are We Gay by Arthur Janov (c. 2013)

“Janov declared in a 1971 interview, for instance, that he could fix everything from alcoholism and menstrual cramps to “homosexuality.” It’s a position he does not refute when I ask him about it in an email, claiming that “we have done it” in “restricted circumstances,” before writing, oddly, that “I assume you are gay but do not pay attention to the hyperbole.” — How Primal Scream Therapy Has Survived Five Decades of Strangeness and Controversy by Oliver Hotham (Feb. 22 2016)

Finally, there have been former primal therapy patients who have testified that PST was used as an approach to conversion therapy. These two extracts come from Janov’s writings in The Primal Scream:

‘“Each new sexual contact left me slightly dissatisfied, and I never knew why,” a former homosexual told me. “I thought it was a penis I wanted, the bigger, the better — until I got it. Then I needed more and more. After I felt how much I wanted my father, I knew that it wasn't a penis I wanted. I guess I became a screaming fag because I could never scream for that bastard.”’ (pg. 304)

‘Another patient, whose parents were “dead” inside and completely unfeeling, said, “I know now why I used to be so hung up on blowing guys. I think I was literally trying to suck some life from someone.” What homosexuals, both male and female, seem to agree upon after Primal treatment is that each of their previous homosexual contacts seem to mean “Mommy (or Daddy), love me!” If we can agree that homosexuality in most cases is this need for parental love, we can then say that the aim of homosexuality is heterosexuality.’ (pg. 304)

Sorry, but his reason for blowing guys is SO funny >:)

Janov also details the experience of a lesbian named Elizabeth, and uses her testimony a case-study to present PST as a “cure” for homosexuality. The testimony is pretty long, so I won’t list it here — but if you do want to read it, here is a digital copy ofThe Primal Scream book found on the internet archives; her testimony begins on page 110 (x).

Intrigued by all of this, I reached out to academic and author of the book Debunking Primal Therapy, John Smith. I emailed him, enquiring into whether he knew anything about Janov’s homophobia, and how it was incorporated into his therapies. He told me that throughout the early 2000’s–which was when Smith underwent PST, and subsequently denounced it–no one within the primal community wasreally homophobic, including Janov, although some patients retained the belief that homosexuality could be caused by traumas. By ‘no one was really homophobic’, what Smith was getting at was that by the 2000s, Janov probably would not insist or pressure someone into undergoing conversion therapy—because despite clearly holding onto his homophobic stances from the seventies, his blogposts indicate that he had to accept social change, probably recognising that if he were to come out with blatantly homophobic speech in the 21st century, he would both lose part of his following, and his credibility within the scientific community. Janov’s views clearly are homophobic, but theres definitely an element of him trying to conceal this judgement, dressing it up as pure scientific speculation.

See the full post

238 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

can i personally ask that we talk about this more

264 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

source: Up Front: His Strictly Confidential Autobiography by Victor Spinetti*

This blog supports homoerotically charged friendships 💪

(*Spinetti played the role of the TV director in the film A Hard Days Night)

275 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

…when McCartney met Harrison in New York in January and said, ‘Look, George, I want to get off the Apple label’, Harrison came back with a line that perfectly encapsulates the sadness and venom that had brought the greatest group of all to an end: ‘You'll stay on the fucking label. Hare Krishna.’

— 1971: Never A Dull Moment by David Hepworth (pg. 23-4)

336 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

1,279 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #throwback to my Janov series which i WILL eventually finish #PROMISE!#have done too much work to not finish it lmao

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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 4 years ago

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Nemesis: Retribution (3)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, lots of angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, character death, fluff if you squint

A/N: We’re playing fast and loose with canon here people. Also thank you for the interactions. I love reading what you think and it helps me write the next chapters better. Also, I enjoy having someone to freak out with. Highlight of my life I swear to god. Enjoy!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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1:3 Hard Candy

Natasha stormed off the jet and into the conference room where she knew the rest of the team were waiting for them, fury radiating from her small frame. Catching sight of her target only made her grow angrier. She immediately ran up to Steve and growled up in his face causing him to immediately take a step back. Sam and Bucky were immediately alarmed, standing up to intervene and the latter's black vibranium arm whirring in preparation but Steve held up a hand to stop them.

"What the hell, Rogers? You send me on a mission with zero intel and this is what I find? Did you know?"

Steve's eyes narrowed down at her, the thick beard and longer hair adding even more to his already commanding presence. He knew exactly what Natasha was talking about and he did expect her to react this way.

"I wasn't sure, Nat. And I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if I was wrong."

"And if you were right?" she scoffed.

Steve swallowed hard before he answered, the blue in his eyes calming considerably. "I thought the three of you deserved to be the first to know."

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky asked, arms crossed on his chest and brows deeply furrowed. They didn't even know about any mission.

Natasha chuckled humorlessly and backed off from Steve. She ran a hand through her hair, the red bleeding into the old blonde color, and gestured toward the door at the approaching people.

"Well you weren't wrong, Steve."

Shock.

That was the overall theme of the day it seemed. None of them could hardly believe that you were actually standing at the doorway. It's been ten long years and you were like the ghost haunting their dreams during that time, a pure and kind soul taken far too soon. Hell, they told stories about your selfless sacrifice to the new recruits. You had unknowingly become a legend.

A legend turned ghost story.

Now you looked more like a nightmare; dried blood caked your clothes and skin, a cold smirk lifting the corner of your lips, and a dangerous unhinged glint in your eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam breathed. "Y/N?"

"Hey, Sam," you said, the almost flirtatious lilt in your voice sending a shiver down their spines. "I go by Nemesis now."

"Nemesis?" Bucky snapped out of his daze, brows raised high and his jaw clenched, features seen clearer now with his shorter hair. "The notorious mercenary Nemesis?"

"I prefer private contractor."

While they had been honoring your memory, you had been building a ruthless reputation of your own that was widely considered on par in violence with The Punisher but with the added disturbing fact that you could be hired. Of course, no one but a select few knew who you actually were.

Until today.

Nemesis. The Greek goddess of divine retribution and revenge. A name that suited the dark avenging persona you had adapted and the only purpose you now lived for. In a twisted kind of way, you were doing the same work they were only with far less finesse and none of the righteous for the good of mankind purpose they usually had.

You shrugged, sitting yourself casually down on the nearest chair on the other end of the long table from where they stood. You have had a long night, your feet were tired and they were still looking at you with absolute confusion and disbelief. This looked like it would take a while.

You rolled your eyes as you unbuckled your stained bulletproof vest, throwing it haphazardly on the table. You hazarded a glance at each one of them as you made yourself comfortable, noting the changes in them too. The years had given way to a solemn maturity to each one, it seems things had changed for them too.

"Now that I'm here, you have 12 minutes."

"12 minutes? Until what?" Steve stammered.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, couldn't for the life of him reconcile the person he was seeing in front of him with the person he knew. From your expressions to your movements and even to the tone of your voice, you were just so different and yet it just seemed to make you a more magnetic presence. Fresh guilt washed over him, knowing that he had failed you as your Captain. They should have kept looking for you.

"You'll see. 11 minutes now. Either ask your questions or tell me what you want."

"We all thought you were dead," Steve muttered, taken back by your hostility.

"Well that obviously didn't stick. How did you find me, Cap?"

It was Steve who found you. At first he couldn't believe it was really you, but the split second glimpse he got of your eyes from the body cam on one of the field agents weeks ago drove him to obsessively dig further. It was a shot in the dark when he sent Natasha and the twins on the mission tonight.

"By chance," he admitted. "We've been chasing a group of people suspected to be manufacturing and selling the super soldier serum. Our agents have had a few close encounters with you. I think we're going after the same people."

"So you're asking for intel?" you snorted, absentmindedly picking at the bloodstains on your sleeves.

"No," he said cautiously, wary at how relaxed yet tightly coiled you looked. "I'm offering you your spot back with the team."

You almost choked on the laugh that just escaped your lips. You couldn't help the short bark of laughter at the ridiculous proposition. Looking at their faces though it seemed that the offer was serious, although the reluctant look in their eyes at your transformation showed their inner conflict. You straightened your features and shook your head, the amused smile still on your lips.

"Look, I'm not exactly on brand for you guys anymore." You leaned forward with your arms on the table and landed your eyes squarely on Bucky's, the venom unmistakable. "Besides, I seem to recall I was deemed not cut out for this team."

Bucky felt like his soul left him at your words. There was a Molotov cocktail of emotions raging inside him; surprise, shame, relief, anger, guilt, and longing. It was killing him knowing that he had a hand in how drastically you had changed. He was deathly afraid of finding out your full story. He wanted to talk to you, wanted to beg for your forgiveness and make things right. How many chances would anyone get to redeem oneself with a ghost? He couldn't find the words though, his throat going dry and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"Y/N, you know that's not the truth," Steve tried to insist.

"I'm not Y/N anymore and I already have a team." You waved a hand dismissively. "Also your 12 minutes are up."

All at once the power cut out in the Compound, drenching the room into darkness punctuated by the flashing emergency lights. You felt yourself get lifted off your seat and the next moment you were standing behind a formation of Avengers in the arms of the resident speedster, your arms on his chest to steady yourself from the daze of the sudden movement. His muscles were tense beneath your hands but his expression was gentle as he looked down at you.

He had wanted to rush over to you the moment you revealed your face. He wanted to hold you, jump for joy, speed around the entire city with you in his embrace. How you were alive didn't matter to him.

Only that you were.

It was only at Wanda's warning for him to stay back that he did. She showed him that you weren't the same person anymore and that they weren't sure whether you would still be friend or foe. To Pietro though, you weren't different.

You were just angry.

To him you were still his little star despite the others thinking you were closer to a supernova now. His little star was just hurting and he decided that he would do everything in his power to help you heal. He held your head tighter to his chest, intending to protect you from the anticipated danger and ready to get you to safety at a moment's notice.

"What the damn hell is going on?" Sam yelled, readying his guns.

A figure silently jumped through the window and rolled on the floor to stop right in front of the group, jolting the Avengers to defend. He stood to full height and took a fighting stance; clad in head to toe red, billy clubs at the ready, and horns glinting in the sparse light atop his head.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Let Nemesis go," he growled.

Natasha stepped forward, snapping her own batons in place. The crackling of the electricity from it sent lights to dance on the menacing expression on her face. The rest of the team watched closely the other entry points, expecting more to come in and if the first was any indication then they were in for a real fight.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, loud and not at all trying to be concealed. Walking straight through the front door, were two towering men in heavy military gear each holding an assault rifle aimed at the group. The sneer on one lent a dangerous taunting aura to his surprisingly handsome features as if to say just fucking try me. While the other had a burning steely focus that instinctively made anyone back off, the emblem on his black vest told them exactly who he was.

The Punisher.

The Avengers snapped to attention, each one drawing their weapons and aiming back. The air was crackling with animosity and fingers that itched to pull their respective triggers. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the first to break the standoff in the enclosed space. Willing for someone to break it.

You laughed.

The disorientation at your reaction was palpable across the room. You patted Pietro's chest, grinning up at him in reassurance that everything was fine. He released you from his hold reluctantly and let you step out of the protective cluster they had inadvertently formed around you. The three newcomers visibly relaxed the slightest bit at the sight of you.

"Weapons down," you said calmly, eyeing each one in the room. No one budged. "All of you. Now."

Steve being the first one to lower his shield was the catalyst in diffusing what could have been the fight of the century. As outnumbered as the newcomers were, they lacked nothing in skill and precise brutality. Frank followed in lowering his weapon and soon everyone did the same. There was still tension but at least it was now reduced to intense glaring.

You tutted and shook your head as you strutted your way to your three rescuers. "What I needed was a ride home, Frankie. Not a goddamn full extraction op."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, not sounding at all apologetic and knowing you weren't really angry if the tired amusement on your face was anything to go by.

He smiled at you, that small open quirk at the corner of his mouth that was always accompanied by a roll of his tongue. He reached for you when you got close enough, drawing you close with a burly arm around the back of your shoulders. He kissed you on the forehead, a lingering gesture that clearly showed an intimacy between the two of you. The soft look on his face was reserved only for you and when he raised his face to the Avengers it was back to the cold threatening glare.

"Can you blame us though?" His voice came out gravelly, a favorite sound of yours. "The last time you were with these guys you were captured and tortured."

Tortured.

The word hung heavy in the air and though your back was turned, you could imagine the look on the faces of your former team. They didn't know about that yet. How could they when they had believed all this time that you died in the explosion?

"You forgot to mention blown up," Matt added, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He removed his helmet, floppy brown hair instantly softening his persona. He peppered kisses on your palm and the inside of your wrist as he breathed in your scent to calm his own anxiety. He almost lost it when Billy had called saying that you had been taken. He was usually the last one to jump to immediate violence in your group, but the thought of you gone filled him with irrational fear. The possibility that history could repeat itself was unacceptable to him.

"I should have come with you."

"I could handle it and Billy was with me."

"Lot of good that did," he scoffed, switching to lightly biting your wrist. This wasn't unusual. Being blind, he relied on a more intense physical reassurance that everything was still as it should be.

"They weren't gonna hurt me, Matty," you argued, but it was more to help settle his nerves.

"All right, leave the foreplay for later," the last of the trio said, pulling you by your other hand closer to him.

He held you tightly by the waist and pressed you close, molding your body to his in a practiced motion. The smile on his face was scandalous and the mischief in his eyes was one that spelled trouble. The cheeky bastard winked at you before dipping his head to lay open mouthed kisses on your neck up to your ear right along your old scars. Shivers went down your spine and you couldn't help the low hum as your body reacted instinctively to him, stepping closer still until you could feel the heat of his body through his gear.

You knew exactly what he was doing. He was always the quickest to show affection in front of company, but this was a particularly golden opportunity for him to stake his claim in front of people he believed did not value you enough. Billy wouldn't be Billy if he didn't take it.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Across the room, the Avengers watched on with blatant curiosity at the apparent intimately familiar exchanges. It wasn't as much the fact that three men were bathing you with affection, but more that this cemented how far removed you were from their memory of you. They knew you as a starry-eyed recruit who stuttered at light teasing and preening at the slightest validation.

"Y/N," Steve called for you, forcing you to step away from Billy for the moment. You turned around to face them but Billy didn't let you go far, slinging his arm over your chest and this time contorting his body to yours.

"I told you, Steve. I'm not Y/N anymore," you said, a fleeting sadness flashed in your eyes before it was replaced with a firm pride. "And this is my team."

"We're taking our girl home," Frank declared, the threat underneath didn't need to be verbalized. If they took you again, it wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Wait!" Steve said urgently, halting your exit. "We'll hire you."

It was a last ditch effort. He was grasping at straws to keep you from disappearing from their lives again. He knew that if you walked out that door now there was no chance of ever getting you back. He just could not let that happen. This would only be temporary at best, but at least it would buy him time to convince you of a more permanent arrangement.

"Not interested."

"Nem." Matt as usual cautioned you from being too hasty. "Is this about the syndicates?"

You sighed. Matt was like a dog with a bone now. There was no choice but to let him chew on it. This was particularly important to him because the syndicates had been running amok in Hell's Kitchen and he was starting to find it difficult to keep his backyard clean.

"Yeah, apparently the stuff we found in the shipment yard was for making super soldier serums. The Avengers have been following the trail too."

"Why not just join forces then? We can get this done and over with a lot faster with their help," he reasoned.

"We're doing fine on our own, Matty."

"Matt has a point, sweetheart," Frank cut in. "We've been chasing this for years. I know a part of you is just itching to end all of this."

"It might help us find him faster. Do you really want to spend another ten years pulling at threads?" Matt added.

You closed your eyes, hands clenching at your sides to control your anger. It grated at you when they ganged up on you like this, but your anger was more because they were right and you knew it. You hated it, but they were right.

It was Billy who intervened, pulling you again to hug you from behind. His hold was firmer than before, aimed more to calm your shaking body. His voice came out calm, but resolute. His first priority was always making sure you were okay and you obviously weren't okay with this.

"You heard the lady. It's a no."

Frank and Matt sighed and shook their heads, but backed off. They weren't about to push you about this no matter how much they knew this would help you. They'll try again to convince you later, but they weren't optimistic. It was fortunate for them that there was more than just one stubborn person in the room.

"Please," Steve interrupted. You had almost forgotten that there were other people in the room. Almost. "We need your help. They have someone who keeps getting in our way and every time we get close he either fights us long enough for the trail to grow cold or leads us on wild goose chases. We can't let that serum be available to whoever can pay for it."

He didn't know what it was that he said that made all of your heads snap in his direction. Your eyes in particular were suddenly wild with barely restrained fury. He would take it. At least he had your attention.

"We can't let that happen, Nemesis," he finished, making sure to use your preferred name. Anything to possibly get himself into your good graces.

"Do you have a name?" you ground out.

"What?"

"A name, Steve. Do you know who this guy is?"

"By the way he fights he seems to be a merc too. Looks like military background though from where I'm not sure," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words in the hopes of you changing your mind. "He goes by Salvacion."

"We're in."

Earth's Mightiest was stunned at the sudden reversal of your decision. As firm as you had rejected the offer, you were jumping at it now with the addition of your own team.

"Let's get one thing straight though, Cap," you began, the rage still burning in your eyes like wildfire. "My team and I will work with you. It's all of us or none of us. We'll help you lock up the syndicates and destroy the serum. We'll play nice, but Salvacion is mine."

Steve took a deep breath, relieved that you had agreed but also deeply concerned at your visceral reaction to a name. He had to ask.

"Why?"

"Because that's the motherfucker who killed my sister."

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A/N: I feel like you guys have more questions now. Come freak out with me through the comments and reblogs! I write faster when people freak out with me. It’s the truth. Now that you’ve seen our girl with ALL our strapping men, what do you think? Who are you most curious about now?

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magnificent-nerd · 3 years ago

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Muslim Supervillains: a tired stereotype

Image description: Supervillains clockwise from top left, Iron Man 1 (2008), The Boys TV (2020), Batman vs. Superman Dawn of Justice (2016), and Wonder Woman 1984 (2020). Please note the frequent use of Yellow Filter.

I decided to list all the times Muslim and Muslim background actors and/or characters (also referred to as SWANA and/or MENA, which stands for South West Asia and North Africa, and Middle East and North Africa) have been given the role of 'supervillain' in live action superhero movies.

Spoiler: it's a lot.

It's also more times than any Muslim actors have appeared as 'good guys' in a superhero movie which, obviously, is really bad typecasting and overt racism.

In chronological order:

Iron Man (2008)

The Ten Rings, a terrorist group made up of multiple MENA and Muslim groups, led by pantomime-level villain Raza (actor Faran Tahir), and also including actor Sayed Badreya among the supporting villains without names.

Sayed Badreya commented on being typecast and always killed in Hollywood movies in this GQ article: "I die in Iron Man," says Sayed Badreya. "I die in executive decision. I get shot by everyone." (x)

Batman vs Superman (2016)

From the theatrical cut of the movie we have an unnamed African 'General' and some rando mercenaries/terrorists that Lois Lane interviews in Nairomi, Africa, referred to only as "the desert" throughout.

All reference to the General's actual name are only available in an extended/deleted scene. So, all in all, a very shallow depiction of these characters and merely used as a prop for the Lex Luthor angle.

Venom (2018)

There is one baddie for the entire movie and he's played by Riz Ahmed, a British actor (just like the lead actor, Tom Hardy, is also British).

Riz Ahmed plays Carlton Drake, a somewhat stereotypical supervillain doctor who has basic and forgettable world domination goals for reasons.

Despite the fact Ahmed gives a great performance, and the fact that at least here is a MENA supervillain that isn't dressed or presented in any of the stereotypical ways these movies usually present MENA and Muslim supervillains, he is still a Muslim actor playing a one and done bad guy, and it's pretty two dimensional.

Technically he plays two supervillains in this movie, being the voice actor for his symbiote, Riot. He still dies, though.

The Boys (2019 - 2020)

Alright so The Boys is a TV show, but I have to give it an honorable mention for such a spectacularly racist depiction of a Muslim supervillain character, who is not only badly written but barely appears onscreen for more than a couple of minutes in total at the end of season 1 (2019) and the first couple of minutes of season 2 (2020).

See my post on Naqib here.

Wonder Woman 1984 (2020)

Arguably the most cartoonish and racist depiction of Arabs and Muslims as generic villains and baddies (since The Boys TV) with no motive other than to 'bomb stuff' for 'reasons', set against a generic White Savior narrative. (Yikes.)

I honestly don't think there is anything redeemable about this movie either, and I'm pleased it got fair drags from critics upon its release for multiple issues, not just the overt racism and Islamophobia. (x) (x)

But the fact that Warner Bros thought this racist depiction of Arabs and Muslims was okay to release in 2020 really says a lot about the racist state of Hollywood generally (but that's another post).

There we have it!

That is a full list of Muslim supervillains (and in the case of Venom, a supervillain played by a Muslim actor).

And sadly that's also it for Muslim character representation in live action superhero movies. They are all bad guys!

(Wow, who saw that coming /sarcasm.)

Read on for side notes, and how upcoming Disney Plus show Ms Marvel isn’t going to automatically fix this industry wide problem when it has its own casting problems:

Side note: there has been a fleeting glimpse of a nameless background character here and there, but only once in a movie and twice in TV shows.

A couple of fleeting glimpses from nameless extras hardly makes up for all the Muslim supervillains we've had to see over the years.

For example, it took Marvel/MCU/Disney 13 years to show any Muslim characters onscreen at all, from Iron Man in 2008 all the way up to Disney Plus show Falcon and Winter Soldier (2021). Please see my post about how badly Disney failed at good rep for these nameless extras.

Now, before anyone pipes up with 'but Disney Plus is bringing in Ms Marvel soon!', let me inform you that many of us are wary of and upset with Disney for their casting decisions, and many other problems to do with the Ms Marvel show (x) debuting in 2022.

One stand out problem is the casting choices which further perpetuates colorism.

Colorism means favoring white, light skinned, and western features in actors, therefore affecting the casting and depiction of SWANA, MENA, and Muslim characters, lending a distorted, white-washed, western, and Orientalist lens to SWANA and Muslim representation.

What we've seen so far with the Ms Marvel supporting cast (not the lead herself) is a cast made up of way too many non-Muslim and non-Pakistani actors to play Muslim and Pakistani characters.

Brown people are not interchangeable, yet studios (especially Disney) rely on the ignorance of western audiences to get away with this blatant colorism.

The Ms Marvel show also has light skinned, biracial, and even Christian actors cast to play monoracial, brown skinned, Muslim characters. That is not okay!

Yet of course, when it comes to the one character who will likely be the villain on the show (as he is in the comics, Kamran) the actor cast to play him, Rish Shah, is quite clearly darker skinned than say, Aramis Knight, also cast in the show to play another love interest to the lead, Kamala, and general good guy. This is colorism; brown skin = baddies, light skin = goodies.

Casting white and more western actors for the good guys, but brown and Muslim actors for the bad guys, is typical colorism and Islamophobia at play within the industry.

So, no: the Ms Marvel Disney Plus show won't 'fix' Islamophobia in superhero movies.

We still have a long way to go.

~*~

Have you spotted any Muslim, MENA, and SWANA characters in superhero media lately? Tell me!

Visit me on twitter, visit my blog.

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princessofprocrastination · 3 years ago

Text

Not The Same (GeorgeNotFound)

summary : you put out a song, but it attracted the wrong type of crowd and caused too many misunderstandings.

trigger warnings : threats (including death and doxing), panic attacks, taking of meds.

"you're THOSE type of fans, huh?" you read the comments on your newest song release.

and that was the start of your downfall.

you and your dad really enjoyed singing. at any opportunity you two got, you would be doing a duet.

whether that would be at at a close relative's wedding or your at home karaoke set up, you two knew how to entertain people.

though singing was your passion, you ended up being too busy with school and trying to graduate with a diploma to even think about singing again.

but you swore to make a career of your singing after high school. you just loved it too much.

but then, you didn't go to college for music, which pretty much shocked your parents and your friends since they knew your only passion in life was singing.

but you took a different direction. you still wanted to sing and you were trying your hardest to find a way to make that your career.

someday, anyway. but you needed to have a plan to fall back into in case anything goes wrong.

you were a realist, after all.

so off to college you went.

you spent long hours studying for tests after tests, sat through hours of lectures, did endless amounts of projects.

in the end, it was all worth the wait and fatigue. you graduated top of your class.

you went off to be an intern, clocked in more hours before you could fully go into the next phase of your life.

and after those long hours, you finally made the decision (with the support of your parents) to take a gap year.

but before anyone panics. your gap year was not all fun in games where you took to rest and lay in bed all day.

you took the gap year to see if the music industry fits you. to see if you even had the chance to succeed.

and if it did, you could finally have your dream job. but even if it didn't you were not going to be upset if you needed to fall back onto your backup plan.

in the duration of the gap year, you took voice lessons, and poetry classes for song writing.

and with whatever you have learnt, you took that into writing songs that you felt really relate to your life experiences.

so you spend at least a couple months writing multiple songs.

after almost 2 years, you finally came out with your first song. and it definitely got recognition. more than you thought you'd get, if you were being completely honest.

and that was what pushed you to sit your ass back on your desk to write more, and go into your makeshift studio and make the words into songs.

your parents were ecstatic to hear that you were finally doing the things you loved. and you knew you'd never get this far if it weren't for your family's support.

and so your music journey began.

it was going well for years. you were finally happy doing the one thing you enjoyed doing.

and you definitely think you were good at it. seeing and hearing the positive feedbacks from your family, friends and listeners.

you felt good.

but you lost that feeling when you came out with a new single, called ‘fan of you’.

you spent a while working hard on that song and you felt relieved when it was finally released. it was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

and you weren’t sure how one thing led to another, if you were being honest. at first, you received good feedback for your new songs. you even gained new listeners and your spotify rank rised.

but then it didn’t anymore.

your twitter flooded with mentions and your instagram full of tagged pictures and dms by accounts you’ve never heard of.

but you noticed a similarity with all of the spam. a guy name george. georgenotfound for short.

you being you, you looked into it. and that was when all of the information hit you. and all you had to look up was your name on twitter, and there it was, the longest thread of tweets you have ever seen in your life.

you took time to read it all, trying to make sure you didn’t miss anything crucial.

there must be an understanding. you didn’t know this guy name george. you’ve seen his face on pinterest once a while when you scrolled, yes. but you never looked into him.

this amazing person took their time to gather every bit of information there was about the scandal, which you were grateful for, or else you’d be scouring the internet for hours.

to summarise what you read, there was this artist by the name of tia jade who came out with a song a few months prior to yours called ‘just a fan.’

it was a good song, some say, and you could agree. it was professionally written and produced. but many fans of george found out that the song was about him.

not just about him, but about her falling in love with him, when she has never met him. and when his fans started to really listen and analyse the song, it got creepier.

basically, the song was about a fan falling in love with a celebrity/content creator and that they want to know them beyond their persona online.

but tia had apologised a little after the song came out, saying that she made that song based on a fan liking a content creator, and not about her falling for george.

but when you read enough of the issue, it definitely did seem like she was making that song to tell her story about falling for george. but she obviously needed an excuse to cover it up.

hence the apology.

and then you read about how they analysed your song, too.

they compared your song to tia’s and found it to have similar stories. stories about how a normal girl is falling in love with the man by the name of george, who had millions of followers on all social medias.

and if you admitted it to yourself, your song did seem to come out that way. especially if your mentality had been there. clearly your song could have been interpreted in many different ways.

you scrolled to the very bottom of the thread where there was a video of the man himself, george. he was addressing the issue.

“i don’t know how this happened twice. i thought once was weird enough, but.” he paused, focusing on building something on his screen.

“having heard of a song being about me again now makes my skin crawl.” he finished. it was short but enough to make his fans understand where he was coming from.

you scrolled further to see the replies of the thread. you wanted to know what were people saying about it.

and you definitely regretted your decision to do that.

threats everywhere. death threats, threats of beating you up, threats of doxing you. god the negative comments were drowned by the one’s that genuinely thought nothing wrong of your song.

you called you mom. this was the time you needed her advice. you needed to be told what to do. you didn’t want to accidentally trigger people.

you and her were on the phone for hours. she listened to you cried to her. she heard the painful sobs that came out of your mouth whenever you reminded yourself of what people were calling you on the internet.

she heard you cry silently on call when you saw your address and phone number being leaked on twitter.

but even through all of that, you joked around with your mom. “well, this was a hell of a way to be trending.”

you did what she told you to do. get a new phone number, stay in a hotel for a couple days while you try to settle the raging crowd of georgenotfound fans down.

in the span of a couple weeks, you got yourself a new number, a new house and a new car. you weren’t taking any chances.

you told no one besides your mom of the new changes, just to be safe.

and no, the threats did not cease. at all. these people did not have a life, constantly up in your dms, telling you to jump off a cliff or them hoping that a robber stabs you and leaves you dying.

you took your time trying to figure out a way to talk to george. or a way to speak out about this.

you didn’t want to write a half-assed notes app paragraph apologising when- first of all, you had nothing to apologise for and second, you had too much to say to fit it all in a notes app.

lucky for you, you didn’t need to start your own channel or make a sit down video on your own.

your recording label had brought up the idea of a documented series about you and how you became a singer about a year ago, and only started filming and posting the episodes a couple months prior on youtube.

so you took the series to your advantage. you pitched in the idea to your manager, to which she agreed to immediately, knowing that it was best you talked about it now.

this was how it played out on the perspective of viewers who watched that episode.

“bless you.” your producer says after you paused your singing in the mic as you stopped to sneeze.

you gave him a smile and a thumbs up from inside the booth.

the camera cuts to another clip.

the cameraman pans as they captured movers coming in and out of your old house, picking up your heavy furniture and boxes into large trucks to move into the new place.

it cuts again. this time it shows you scrolling on your phone with a focused face while your manager types something vigorously on her computer.

the camera tries to focus on your phone, and sees that you were on twitter, reading a lot of tweets under your name.

you exited the app and slide it away, going into youtube next, reading the comments on your song ‘fan of you’.

you scrolled far, clicking on some of the comments, trying to read the replies to certain comments you saw.

the camera cuts into a black screen. which then cuts again into a new scene, where you sat on your new kitchen counter talking to your mother, who sat on the chair in front of you.

your hair was up in a ponytail. a messy one. you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie that seemed far too big on you, and your feet covered with fluffy socks.

you were nodding to whatever she was saying to you. it was clear your mind was elsewhere as your eyes were unfocused.

the scene cuts again.

you were seen on the couch, your legs were tucked into your arms and your head down, body shaking. it was obvious you were crying.

you were alone, your mother no where to be seen.

that was the first time the camera caught you crying.

the scene cuts as you were going to get up from the couch.

now, you were in the kitchen again, opening the refrigerator to take a water bottle, then walking to your room upstairs.

the camera follows behind you slowly into your room.

it hadn’t been the cleanest. there were a couple shirts on the floor, your bed undone, cups on your side table, your laptop open on your desk.

you were seen opening a drawer, taking out a small white bottle. you unscrewed the bottle and took out 2 pills, popping them in your mouth, drinking water straight away after that to swallow.

the scene cuts again.

this time, you were seated on the couch in the studio, the atmosphere dark and quiet.

your hair was more kept this time, being help up in a clip.

you were wearing straight jeans and a slightly oversized sweatshirt. you looked more refreshed this time. but it was obvious you hadn’t slept in a while because of your eyes.

your eyes that usually held a lot of happiness and joy turned dull.

“it’s been a while since i’ve spoken to a camera.” you offered a small smile. your song ‘just a fan’ was playing in the background of the clip.

the scene cuts again.

“when i released that song, i was genuinely proud of the work i had done.” you paused for a while. besides the song playing in the background, it was silent.

“but i guess the joy didn’t last very long.” the scene cuts there.

it transitioned to a collage of what people were saying about you. it showed clips of people talking about it on youtube. they even showed george talking about it.

and it cuts again.

it showed a different clip this time. a clip of your ex boyfriend and you at the beach on a picnic, that was taken by a close friend of yours.

this was when you were still in college.

it showed all the fun memories you two made while you were still together.

it showed a video of him studying in the library, flipping through his papers and scrolling through his laptop. it was clear he was hard at work, not noticing you filming him.

but then the scene cuts again. and the music turned somber.

your ex boyfriend’s grave.

it was the day you were visiting him. you sat down next to his stone, a blanket under you.

you were just staring at his stone, not moving.

and it cuts again.

“he was one of the most driven person i have ever met.” you told the camera.

“he knew when to be serious and when to have fun.” you looked down in your hands and played with your rings.

“all he ever talked about was becoming a surgeon. he worked hard in his intern years and continued being passionate through his residency.” you spoke up.

“people had only nice things to say about him. the only bad thing they would say about him is that he can be pretty uptight sometimes, especially when he was stressed about something.” you laughed a little.

“i was a huge fan of him, even when we just saw each other in the hallways. he’s just amazing. i’ve always wanted to be just like him.”

“i wanted to write a song about him but i didn’t the song to be sad.” you said.

“and that was when the song ‘fan of you’ was created.

the scene cuts there and goes into another.

you were in the recording booth again, this time, you were singing into the mic.

the camera pans to your producer and manager dancing and bobbing their heads to the beat.

the scene cuts, officially ending it with a black screen with ‘the end’ in a fancy white font.

you busied yourself with writing new songs as your name got trended again on twitter.

and george has never felt worse about himself ever in his entire life.

he watched the episode as soon as dream sent it to him.

“you’re an asshole, george.” dream sends to him, along with the link of the video on youtube.

as the video ends, he decides to read the comments, wondering what it was like down there.

it was the worse mistake he had ever made in a while.

but he knew he deserved it. he did assumed it was about him, just like the last song made with a drawing of his glasses as their cover photo on spotify.

this time, there was genuinely no reason to think that this song was about him, or anyone with a following whatsoever. he just believed what his chat told him.

sure, there were some familiarity of the character in your song and him, but the world did have 7.6 billion people living on it.

“so, here i am apologising.” george says to his camera, live. his tone was very sincere and apologetic.

“this shouldn’t have gotten this far. they shouldn’t have gotten threats at all, let alone death threats. they shouldn’t have woken up to the world knowing where they live and what their phone number is.”

“and if you’re watching. i sincerely apologise. i clearly was full of myself.” george finishes. ending the live with a small wave.

and were you watching? hell yes.

and that was the day the two of you followed each other on instagram.

he used your songs as his intros of his live, (with your permission, of course.) you showed in your documentary that you were watching whenever he was live or watching his youtube videos.

and that was the start to a beautiful relationship.

you sat on the chair, going live. you waved as people started joining. it went from hundreds, to thousands in seconds.

as you were talking and clicking on your keyboard and mouse, playing a game, you felt arms around your shoulders.

you smiled, yet continued playing.

“why are you live on my account?” he laughs.

you disconnected the headphones so that he could hear what you were hearing.

“george, you’re being replaced.” dream said on discord.

george smiles, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. “that was well deserved.”

#georgenotfound imagines #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound fanfic #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound

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dylanobrienisbatman · 3 years ago

Note

The main problem with the whole mal vs the darkling thing in regards to being possessive (or really when it comes to any of their traits) is the fact that throughout, the darkling is clearly framed as the villain and his actions reflect that, whereas Mal as supposed to be the good guy and best romantic partner for Alina, and yet he has all these awful character traits and tendencies. So its less about how awful the Bad Guy is (since he's supposed to be), and more about how awful the person that we're supposed to believe is the best option for Alina is. I don't ship either, just my two cents.

Okay well... two things. First, your comment about "its less about how awful the bad guy is, since he's supposed to be", takes every comment I've made about Darkles out of context, which seems fitting since everything Darklina's spout about Mal is out of context. Him being the Bad Guy is fine, and if you like him AS A VILLAIN, and acknowledge all the bad shit he does, then my posts aren't for you. I think he's a very interesting villain, and a lot of the terrible shit he does that I have to keep making posts about make him a good villain, the problem is when the terrible shit the "Bad Guy" does is romanticized and viewed as the reasons why Alina SHOULD have picked him. So, don't assume everyone gets that "hes supposed to be awful". The point my post was making is that Darklina's love to call Mal possessive, but then turn around and act like Darkles literally enslaving her in somehow sexy and romantic. It's fucking not, and it's transparent as hell that y'all romanticize and sexualize the actually possessive character, and then project false character traits onto Mal. It's so transparent, it's almost funny.

But, more importantly, to your second, very wrong point, I wonder how much of the narrative about Mal having "awful character traits and tendencies" is actually a commentary on Mal as a character, or is it just Darklina's lying about things Mal has done and everyone accepting that misinterpretation as canon. Because, if were making a list...

Fuck boy - False! Mal was not a fuck boy! He was an attractive teenager who hooked up with consenting girls his age when he could, and he was not in a relationship during that time. Alina had never told him how she felt, so he is not beholden to her. (Also, nobody seems to have an issue with the fact that Darkles hooked up with Zoya in the show, that doesn't make HIM a fuckboy... interesting) (also also, nobody seems to discuss Darkles literally sexually assaulting Alina, and lying and manipulating her to get her to be physically intimate with him so he can use her... double interesting).

Slut Shames Alina - FALSE! The ever favourite callout line from Darklina's "He's all over you" isn't him slut shaming her. First, he has no idea what their relationship is like at that point, but more importantly, he is making an observation of her status in the little palace and how she has become his tool. He has dressed her up in his colors, made her put on a show for his benefit, and has created a situation where Alina appears to be his. Mal is noting that after months of searching for her, believing she was being hurt, tortured, or worse, when he arrives to save her, she looks like the Darkling's pet. (and, even if he WAS angry because he perceived them to be romantically involved, boy just spent months fighting for his life, lost multiple friends, and almost died to find her, all while coming to the realisation that he was in love with her, and then he shows up, after not hearing from her for months... I'd be pissed as hell too.) Important Note: He even acknowledges that what he said was wrong and tries to apologise, before Alina tells him that he was right. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 286). He also then apologizes, completely unprompted, for what he said. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 297).

Fat Shames Alina - False! This one is particularly laughable to me, because its one of the Darklina arguments that falls apart the second you actually read the scene. They are running for their lives in the forest, and Mal has to hunt and gather to feed them. He is noting that Alina's appetite has increased since he last saw her, and he makes a joke (ya know, how you do with friends) about how it would be easier to keep her fed if she still had her more meager appetite from before. He makes no comment on her weight, or her size, and he is not actually commenting on her appetite in a negative way, he is just acknowledging that it's a lot more work for him now that she eats more. Right before he says the line, the quote even proves that he isn't shaming her or thinking badly of her: "With a bemused expression, he watched as I gobbled down my portion and then sighed, still hungry". He is noting a change in her, and complaining that its made more work for him. If you think thats the same as fat shaming, well... thats a you problem.

Hates Alina's Powers - FALSE!!!! How to begin... do we talk about it was Mal's idea to hunt the stag in S&B, because he knew she needed it to be more powerful so she could stop the darkling? Do we talk about how he vowed to find the firebird for her, even though he was terrified of what all that power would do to her? Do we talk about how he literally died so she could achieve the power she needed to save the world? Or maybe we could talk about how he believed in her power more than anyone else, like when everyone was making bets about her abilities with the Cut and he knew she'd go further and better than anyone else expected her too, or when he tells her that he was never afraid of her powers, only what seeking all that power would do to her (which is literally the theme of the books, that power corrupts and seeking unmatched power can destroy you)? Mal being afraid of what is going to happen to Alina, being protective of her and worrying over her, is not the same as him hating her powers. He exists to help remind Alina of the themes of the story, and to guide her into maintaining her humanity.

Abusive - ... Do I even need to explain this one? Must I deign an explanation as to why this favourite Darklina lie is so fucking stupid, and also totally hypocrisy? No? Because we all know Darkles is actually the abusive one and they're trying to project their own shit onto Mal to further their abuse apologist agenda? Cool. Moving on.

Possessive of Alina - False! Throughout the entire series, Mal is quite literally the opposite of possessive, but yall just cant read. Not only does he quite literally step out of the way and allow Nikolai to court Alina without argument, which is the most direct example of him not being possessive, he also spends two full books believing, and repeatedly saying over and over and over, that they can't be together because he is not good enough for her. Mal believes, fully, that Alina deserves more than him, better than him, because he's just a tracker and a soldier, just a regular man with nothing to offer her but his love and his protection, and she is a Saint and should be a Queen. Possessiveness is the wish to own and control someone, it is literally the opposite of Mal believing that he's not good enough and doing everything he can to ensure that Alina achieves everything and gets everything he believes she is owed. A possessive character would not tell her to tell him to leave because he has nothing he can offer her, no title or land or country or crown. A possessive character would not promise to be the blade in her hand, because he believed he had nothing but the blood he could spill to offer her.

Angry - True! Yeah, omg, you caught us, Mal is ANGRY! Heaven forbid a teenager who is traumatized beyond belief and has to give up everything in his life, his position in the military (he deserted for her), his friends and the job he loved (Mikhail and Dubrov died for him, and he can't be a tracker in the army... because he deserted... for Alina), and, most importantly, he has to give up Alina (she should be Queen, he believes, and he has to give up the future he imagined with the girl he loves, who he was pretty sure loved him back, because she's a saint and queen and he's just a man), and more, is ANGRY. He has to be the one to find the amplifiers that he knows will end up hurting her, because thats what she needs to save the world. He has to sit by while Nikolai treats him like the dirt on his shoe and tries to woo Alina for his own personal gain (because Nikoalai did not love Alina. Maybe he came to care for her, but he proposed and spent all of S&S trying to get her to marry him when it was obvious they were not in love. He straight up says its so that the next King of Ravka can be married to the Sun Summoner. It's a power grab.) and he can't do anything about it. So yeah, Mal is angry. And yeah, sometimes he's even angry at Alina, just like sometimes she's angry at him. But they always find their way back, always apologize and try to be better for each other, and if you think anger is a toxic trait, and not simply a natural human emotion, might I suggest touching some fucking grass?

Idk why you thought I'd stand for Mal slander on my blog, cuz I will not. So, I'm gonna stop there, because I have shit to do today, but I really do wonder how much of Mal's 'toxic' or 'terrible' traits, that make him such a 'bad' love interest for Alina, really comes from Darklina's who refuse to actually read the text critically at all, and instead take everything he does and says out of context to further their agenda that Alina should have ended up as the Darkling's fucking slave forever, because thats the "girl power feminist" ending somehow. Mal supports her, loves her, sacrifices for her at every turn, and does everything he can do, to the point of literally dying for her, to ensure that she can defeat Darkles and save the world. He protects her, and when they end up happy and safe together on the orphange that they've rebuilt to help the children that were victims of Darkles war and genocide, he spends his days bringing her tea and cakes and flowers, kissing her silly under the stairs in the view of all the teachers, and calling her names like beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart for the rest of their ordinary life together, if love can ever be called that.

#Malina #anti darklina #malyen oretsev #mal oretsev #shadow and bone #if yall could just learn to fucking read... i am begging you

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its-captain-sir · 4 years ago

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BATTALION BREAKDOWN

Alright y'all, here it is, my breakdown of what I think a GAR battalion SHOULD look like. Full disclaimer before we get into it: I tried to research this stuff on wookiepedia as best I could but 1. there wasn't a ton of information out there on some of the things I had questions about and 2. some of it just makes No Sense when you put it together, so a lot of these numbers were made up by me and what I thought made sense based on what we see in the show and just simple logic. Feel free to accept/ignore parts as you please! Also, I'm gonna try to explain the rationale behind certain things as I go along but if you have any questions about this, you can send an ask/reply/reblog this post with your question and I'll do my best to answer it :)

Now that all that's out of the way, here's all the actual info beneath the cut.

Basic Organization

Essentially, the GAR breaks down into four tiers at this level: battalions, companies, platoons, and squads.

Battalions are the largest groups with 576* members and are all numbered, such as the 501st, 212th, 104th, etc. The only exceptions to the numbering convention are the Rancor Battalion that guards Kamino and the Coruscant Guard. Personally I believe that both of these should be double, if not triple, the size of a regular battalion, which could potentially explain the difference in names. Battalions are led by a clone commander and Jedi general + a padawan commander if the Jedi has one. 4 companies make a battalion.

Companies consist of 144 members and are all named. Using the 501st for example, this would be Torrent, Tide, Wave, and Typhoon. Note: Torrent, Tide, and Wave are canon/widely accepted fanon, but Typhoon is something me and my friends came up with. You're welcome to use the name as the fourth 501st company in your wips if you want! The names don't have to be related, but my guess would be that they often are. Companies are led by a captain.** 4 platoons make a company.

Platoons consist of 36 members and are simply referred to as the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, or 4th platoon under their company. Platoons are led by a Lieutenant. 4 squads make a platoon.

Squads consist of 9 members and are named. I don't have names for any 501st squads unfortunately, which is why those spaces are left blank in the picture. As a content creator, you'd have a LOT of freedom when it comes to these because there's so many within a battalion and it seems like they can be named just about anything. Squads are led by a sergeant.

*Numbers for this and subsequent numbers in this section were taken directly from wookiepedia

**One problem people tend to have with this is that Rex is a captain, and yet he seems to be in command of all of the 501st. I think most people have figured this out already but the clone wars writers really just threw names around willy-nilly when it came to all the military stuff. Rex should by all intents and purposes be a commander, and my personal in-universe explanation for this is that while he was skilled enough to go through ARC/command track training, he wasn't originally meant to be a commander and his CT number is what barred him from the title initially. Keeli would be another example of this.

A few comparisons just to illustrate it a bit better:

1 battalion = 4 companies = 16 platoons = 64 squads = 576 members

1 company = 4 platoons = 16 squads = 144 members

1 platoon = 4 squads = 36 members

1 squad = 9 members

Please note that these numbers do not include the officers. There would be 64 sergeants, 16 lieutenants, 4 captains, and a commander added to this number to make a total of 661 clones in any given battalion.

Now I could have just stopped here but I have a tendency to want to get way too specific in my wips so I went a little further:

Internal Battalion Assignments

To make the numbers a bit easier, this just looks at what would be found in one company, you can do the extra math if you want to know the full battalion numbers.

I tried my best to remember what kind of specialized troops showed up in the show since wookiepedia wasn't much help, and I ended up breaking these assignments down into medics, heavy gunners, ARF and tank operators, scouts, tech specialists, and standard infantry.

Medics total 16* within a company, one for each squad. Within the medical corps, they're further broken down into junior medical officers (JMO), medical officers (MO), senior medical officers (SMO), and the chief medical officer of the battalion (CMO). Any internal promotions would probably come from the CMO, maybe a SMO on occasion. When pertaining to medical issues, they do often outrank any other officer, but in combat, JMOs and MOs only hold the rank of private (underneath sergeant) and SMOs and the CMO hold the rank of major (between sergeant and lieutenant).

Heavy gunners total 16 within a company, again one for each squad. These are the clones who have been trained to use the Z-6 rotary blaster, like Hardcase and Hevy.

ARFs and other tank operators total one platoons-worth spread throughout a company, or 36 members. ARF troopers are the ones who drive the AT-RTs (the really bouncy walkers you can see used on Ryloth and Umbara) and other tank operators encompass, well, the operators of all the other ground vehicles we see used. The ratio of each of these seems like it could be fluid based on the needs of the battalion and their mission, so I didn't go too much further into this.

Scouts total two squads-worth spread throughout a company, or 16 members. To me it makes sense that one of the lieutenants within their company would specifically deal with their recon reports, simply because it's more organized and practical.

Tech specialists total one squads-worth spread throughout a company, or 9 members. Honestly this is where I grouped anything else left over, like the bomb squad members we see in the blue shadow virus episode, any slicers, etc.

Standard infantry totals the remaining 49 members in a battalion. They're strictly the fighting force on the ground. This doesn't mean that they're the only ones who do the actual fighting, just that they aren't specifically trained for any other specialization.

*These numbers and the subsequent numbers in this section were not taken from any canon source. They were calculated simply by what I thought would make sense to have.

LAAT/is and Starfighters

Again, I tend to be way too specific in my wips so not only did I go through all of the ground fighting force, but I started figuring out the some of the space forces attached to a battalion as well. This doesn't go into a ton about the Republic Navy because frankly, as soon as I read "7400 crew members on a star destroyer" I exited out of that tab cause that's a little Too Much to try to figure out, but I will cover how I think the gunships and fighter squadrons should work.

LAAT/is (gunships) total 48 per battalion, or 12 per company. However, two per company are usually held in reserve to make sure there's always something available for easy transport to/from the ground. This brings down the number to 40 per battalion, or 10 per company. Gunships take two people to man, so the total number of those pilots for a battalion is 96, or 24 for a company. There's also room for two gunners, which would bring the battalion total to 192, but from what I remember in the show the side guns rarely have someone in them, so I don't think the full 96 LAAT/i gunner positions would be filled. I also think the LAAT/i gunners could be temporarily reassigned from the main star destroyer crew (because 7400 is a LOT, they can spare 96). Wookiepedia said that the gunships could hold 30 troops for transport, but that seems like it'd be really cramped quarters. My guess is that each one would hold somewhere between 14-17 comfortably depending on how many people need transport and how many gunships are in use, which is what I kept in mind to come up with the original number of 48 for a battalion.

The Starfighter Corps consist of 5 separate squadrons, the standard* being two squadrons of Y-wings, one squadron of V-19 Torrents, one squadron of Z-95 Headhunters, and one squadron of ARC-170s. There are 12 in a squadron, plus a squad leader and two usually in reserve, so that's 15 total ships in a squadron and 75 total ships overall. Y-wings require a pilot and a gunner, so the total number of members in a battalion's starfighter corps equals 105. However, I believe some battalions could have up to double** these numbers if they're frequently in space battles, like Anakin and the 501st, or if they have a name that suggests it, like the 327th Star Corps. Squadrons seem to often be named after colors, but that isn't always the case, ie. Shadow Squadron.

*This standard isn't canon, it's just what I believe makes sense based on the number of ships types available and how frequently they are seen used in the show. The Y-wing bombers seem to be used a bit more than the rest, which is why I think there would be two squadrons of them.

**While double the number of ships is certainly possible, I figure it's more common to have three more squadrons instead of the full five so there would be two squadrons of each type of ship.

~~~

That's all I got! Like I said earlier, use whatever you like, ignore the parts you don't, it doesn't really matter to me. This system is definitely what I'm going to follow in my wips if anyone is ever curious about what's going on with those.

Hopefully this is helpful to someone out there! And if you made it this far, thanks for reading! :)

#star wars refs #god this got so long HAJDHSKFHSKFHDK #I really hope all my math is right hsjskdhskfhslfj #i only caught one screw up while typing all this out so I'm pretty sure it's okay #but i apologize in advance if something isn't #ALSO sorry for the shaky lines in the visuals my hands started shaking really bad while making them hskdhskfhskfj #clones #oh look another clone wars post

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thekillingjoke-haha · 3 years ago

Text

Angel With A Shotgun

Summary: The Novak family was big talk,but not nearly as famous as the L/n’s. Togther they can be unstoppable,so what say family ties like guns,drugs,money,and murder?

Paring: Michael!Dean x Male!Reader

1900's Mafia/Gangsters AU

A/N: this is a Micheal fic,but its him in Dean's body so like...idk its the same snake different skin. Also Chuck is referred as Charles

Warning:Blood,guns,knives,gore,torture,swearing. Homophobic comments like just a few. No proof reading

⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑆⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑈⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑇⑈⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑈⑇⑉⑆⑆⑆

The Novak's that a family that was one of the most feared yet respected. The way people talk about them down south you'd think they were inspiration for the Bible itself. A man by Charles or Chuck Novak is the head honcho with five sons to help him run is kingdom.

The youngest is Castiel he was probably the nicest of all his siblings,but also the most protected with three other brothers, Gabriel is the definition of trouble and if he slipped up head could easily get lynched good thing he puts that silver tongue to work. Raphael was one of the more head strong,but sadly he was shot when several rivals attacked at on of their bars. Lucifer is the second oldest and the most hot headed with a temper to match the black sheep in his family if you will, then last,but not least Michael he was something else entirely the play boy,a demon is a flat cap and tailored suit.Now that the Novak's have been introduced the world's most feared gang the L/n's is one family not to be fucked with.

(Father's name) leading his kingdom no...empire with his wife (Mother's name) and togther they had only two sons. The second born William and the oldest M/n. William wasn't much involved with the criminal side of the business,but his big brother was the prime example of a gangster. No one besides the L/n gang has seen him he stays out of newspaper coverage and that only allows his terror to run ramped. A man with no face and a title of Satan himself made the oldest Novak just a little timid when he found out. "WHAT THE HELL!!!" Michael threw the newspaper on his fathers desk in anger the older man looked up after glancing at the paper. "I'm due to be wed to a L/n and none the less a man! I can be hanged for so much as saying I do and it IN THE FUCKING BULLETIN!!!" He was seething with hatred in every word. Michael will admit it hurt a lot finding out he was to be wed by the slight disgust look he got while grabbing the paper before getting coffee. "I wanted to tell you sooner,but you were handling something. There's no way out of this a deal was made before you were born me and (Father's name) have been waiting for his wife to bare a girl or your mother to do the same,but your mother's untimely passing and (Mother's name) having gone unfertial our oldest are due to wed." Chuck sighed taking off his thin wired glasses.

"You two were once friends,but I guess time got rid of those memories." Chuck sat down his spectacles down looking at his son. Michael turned to father with shock evident in his eyes. He was friends with M/n L/n the man with no face. Everything was too foggy. The shorter male stood up to a shelf in the office and grabbed a small match box opening it looking around before pulling out a picture. Handing it over to his son he sat back down. "He was one of the only people you'd go to when you were a baby. Heavens he was probably the only person you liked,but when he was five and you were three the fact that our business was centered around blood and there's on bonds it became a fight,mafia versus a gang, and you guys saw eachother less and less till around the time Luci was born not at all." Chuck sighed. The young man was in shock a little boy maybe two or three was cuddled up to a baby in a pale blanket that he remembered was blue fully awake and if the picture could come to life he's sure the boy was humming all while rubbing the infants back.

"No ones seen a picture of him in twenty six years and he was on his fathers hip with a match box car. He's in town and should be coming for dinner here by himself in three days time. So til then keep your brothers in check we don't need them to shoot the young man with a stray bullet." With that Charles dismissed his eldest son as the green eyed boy stormed off in a huff. Michael started to do digging. M/n L/n was in headlines weekly in every post known to man from shootings,assassination,and gangbanding to rumors of his love-life,what he wears,and people claiming to have met him. One thing caught his eye that made him falter. "Gangsters M/n L/n Captures Murderer" that when he started reading the full paper that crumbled a bit due to age. Maybe he's not so bad the guy he caught never saw a courtroom,but met a far worse end all because he caused problems with his people. It was admirable the brunette knew he'd do the same,but not just for anybody. Marriage wasn't settling well with him that didn't mean it felt completely wrong.

One day later

Looking in the mirror Michael watched as his maid adjusted his tie while another smoothed the wrinking in his white button up and vest of his three piece suit. As the oldest he had business to handle people to keep in line. When their hands left his body they scurried out of the room rushing to be down stairs before him. His dress shoes met the floor as he grew closer to the door his youngest sibling ran up next to him. "Can I come,please!" His raven head of hair and doe blue eyes almost made him cave,but with a firm look he gazed down at him. "Sorry little raven,but I have things to handle another time." The pout on Castiel lip didn't move as he held up his hand his pinky out. "Promise?" Interlocking with the ten year olds pinky. "Promise." With that he happily skipped away to play in the garden.

Out the door he went. His flat came on his head and coat thrown over his shoulder his effects tucked in his waistband. Screams caused him to smile as he stood before the butcher on payroll. He wore the man's leather apron having abandoned his tailored suit jacket in the front of the deil. "Were is my money?" He cut the man some more as he continued to scream in pain the white fire from the rusted meat hook in his shoulder flaring with each jerked motion. "Help please!" He yelled all of a sudden in the past hour he hasn't called for assistance. "No can do." A deep voice said behind the oldest Novak turning around sharply his green eyes clashed with e/c. The man looked like anyone off the street his shoes tattered and clothing dirty form labor no bet. "I came for my five notes." The didn't seem fazed at the torture. "Fuck you gypsy scum!!" The pig of a man responded as the tall s/c man crept closer gripping a knife Michael was using. "I just unloaded a load of meat in the summer heat that would give the devil a sweat and all I asked for my effort was five notes nothing more nor less so cough of the money that you clearly owe both of us or I'll carve it out of you and make you squeal like the piggy bank you are." His tone dropped further the blade under the man's fat chin and the Novak felt aroused at the threat. This guy meant every word when the hanging man spat in his face the off color of snuff and blood made the normally clear liquid seen and thick. Let's just say Michael sat back crossing his legs in a attempt to compose himself as the man hit pitches not even the girls in the church choir could master. The heavy weight man forked over the money then some I got my full and he ended up giving the mystery man a hundred notes if he made the pain stop after pocketing the money he shot the man.

He turned around and began to leave when the brunette stopped him. "Wait! I give you my thanks friend he was stubborn for a hour almost" The h/c man turned looking at him giving a smile tilting his head for the Novak to follow as he stepped out the deli. Scrambling he walked down the street next to the man their attire clashing a well tailored suit next to rags that looked more like a potato sack then cloth. "Glad I could help a fine looking fella like yourself." His flirtatious grin caused butterflies to run ramped in Michael's guts. As they walked down the street they slowly moved from the good side of the town to the slums. No cars drove on the gravel a fire hydrine spat out water for all the children playing around it,women hung up clothes on wire between tenements and men looked more like the mysterious gypsy next to the Novak. Speaking of the mystery man he went to each crowded tenements door and knocked the women or young men of the families came to the door and he handed over twenty notes each. The women cried and clung to his tall figure and the boys almost men looked at him in wonder like a hero before running off to tell the adults of the place. "Why did you do that?" Michael asked as they walked out of the town. "You worked for that money and gave it all away." He was confused he's never seen a man work for a family that wasn't his own.

"They need it more. Schools out the children don't get meals and the men work hard to feed them at least a meal a day. I'm alone here no lover or children with the energy and muscle to work." Novak wasn't sure before,but he was sure now this was love and it felt better then any harlot he could spend the night with. "Thats very admirable of you." Michael complmented which was not a normal accuracy. "It was truly nothing to admire,handsome. I'm not saying I'm amazing,but sometimes I'm decently above average. That's what people need someone decent enough go care."

Before he knew it they were back on his side of town and getting closer to the business. "It's been a pleasure,Mr. Novak." The man dripped his head as he turned to leave somewhere. "You know who I am and I don't even get a name." He turned back around and got closer to him his chest pushed up against his till he was pinned to the wall he leaned down his lips so close to his face just out of reach. "I'm N/n,but you can call me the man of your dreams." Michael almost leaned up to peak his lips when the warm body pulled away taking with it the lust filled tension. N/n turned and left out of sight that night was full of the man tossing and turning dreaming of the e/c man that made him feel high as the clouds above. N/n smiled as his men drank around him he finally saw his baby boy all grown up and he's taking what's his this time.

Two days later=Six Hours Before Family Dinner

The buzz of the New Yorker coming to Kansas was the rage. Any man that was new in town was watched like a hawk by commoners and the Novak's. Michael was no longer looking forward to this marriage he didn't want this man no matter who he was. N/n stole his heart like a petty thief and ran away from him. No one in Kansas knew who he was a s/c skinned,h/c haired,e/c eyed gypsy was all he had to go on no last name just a image that burned bright in his mind. Michael sighed as he left his office and went down to the bank he needed enough cash on hand to throw away on booze and maybe angel dust. People parted for him like the red sea and he easily got money when gun shots went off. The teller in front of him fell to the ground wounds ridding his body and Novak turned to see men...no boys with guns.

"Everyone get down on the ground. We've come only for the money we won't hesitate for blood as well." The group chuckled as the leader smirked people shook as they easied to the ground all except Michael who stood tall. "Ah! If it isn't Michael Novak no men to protect you now." A man he didn't realize came behind him hit him over the head with his gun causing him to fall to his knees. "Pathetic." The band of thugs leader grabbed the Mafia bosses chin looking and the blood coming from his brow. Someone stood from on their knees a flat cap covering their hair and a long trench coat that was only slightly open. "It would be in your best interest to leave,boys." They all train their guns at the man. "Why's that,you motherless bastered?" The man turned his gaze upward deadly sharp e/c orbs looked at him and Michael was in shock it was N/n. "Cause I have twelve guns ready to blow holes in you and your men." After his words ten men stood up all wearing the same clothing flat caps,overcoats,and suspenders with a Tommy on every man except the leader. The cowardly man looked frightened looking around keeping his gun on the s/c man. "I only count ten I still have the upper hand." N/n gave a devilish smile that made Michelle gaze on love struck and excited for what's to come. His gray trench coat hit the floor and two sawed-off shotguns in each hand. "Upper hand you say?" He pulled both triggers the left one killing the man sending himself flying back and the right killing the man behind Michael blowing his brains painting the tan walls this made the others fire as well. The bodies of the criminals and one civilian litter the floor.

N/n sent the men off to get the people out as he walked up to the bleeding Novak. "Thank you." His green eyes gleamed making the standing man give a grin as he held his hand out to help him up. "Consider it a gift from M/n L/n." The gleam disappeared from his eyes his soon to be husband was in town has been in town and set his men up to keep him safe. "Now if I'm not mistaken you have a dinner to get ready for,pretty boy." He takes the handkerchief out of his waist coat dabbing the blood away. "Will you be there?" Michael voice sounded weak so full of hope. "You can count on it. We'll be seeing eachother alot more." The man stood up and quickly left and not a moment later Mafia men came in running tending to the boss. Looking longingly at the piece of cloth (Your Initials) were sowed into the reddend white square of fabric.

Family Dinner was about to start the Novak's sat at the table Charles sitting at the end his three eldest sons to his right while his youngest sat to the left two spots were available one across from Michael and the other on the opposite end of Charles. A maid came in the dinning hall and cleared her throat. "The L/n's are here." Two young men came through the door one taller then the other the shorter of the two sat across from Michael while the other sat at the other end of the table closest to Michael and the other man. Charles smiled at them both and Michael was in a state of shock. "M/n been a long while hasn't it?" The oldest Novak looked at the man infront of him waiting for a response when the man he thought to be just a gangster working under the L/n's answered. "That it has Chuck. Sorry father couldn't come he had some other business to handle." N/n or M/n now to Michael's knowledge said before placing a hand on the man beside him. "This is Benjamin or Benny my right hand man don't mind him." The man gave a nod of acknowledgment his blue eyes piercing. "Heard about the blood bath at the bank quite impressive from what Michael has told me." A side smile and a teasing look was turned the mentioned Novak's way. "Saw low life scum trying to rob the place and touching what's mine,their little toys they call guns were child's play compared to my men." M/n sent a wink addressing the men hitting Michael from behind.

"Are you a knight that saves people?" The youngest asked his blue eyes wide in wonder. The s/c males eyes turned to the child a warm smile gracing his lips. "Sometimes when I want to be." A bubbly giggle rang out. "You saved Mikey making him your prince." Those words caused different reactions from all the men. Gabe covered his mouth trying not to laugh at his older brother,Lucifer grinned leaning over to his brother. "Did he have to kiss you sleeping beauty?" He chuckled lowly making kissing noises in his ear,Micheal was beet red as he couldn't bear to face any of them,Chuck smiled looking at his son and son-in-law,Benny nudged his boss sliding something to him while everyone was distracted. "Yeah and I'm gonna make him my king and take him to my castle." M/n leaned towards the boy and whispered in his ear. "We'll ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after." Castiel was gobsmacked as he gazed at his brother all giddy he was gonna live a fairy tale like in all the books their mother use to read. "Um if you'll excess me. I need some air." Micheal stood up and not long after M/n followed when given a reassuring nod from Charles.

The garden of the estate was beautiful in the moonlight and it wasn't hard to spot the oldest Novak on a bench on looking the pond that reflected the night sky. "You knew the whole time who I was." Micheal didn't look up at the man as he sighed. "Yes I knew who you were...we were once closer then the stars and the skies itself." The L/n sat next to him on the bench looking forward. "Chuck knew as well." Michelle turned in shock at that statement a goose chase for nothing. "He didn't know what I looked like now,but letters everyday asking about you seemed to do the trick." Those e/c eyes turned to look into those apple green ones. "Learning from a young age that in you grasp was the person you were due to wed was shocking I almost hated you,but the moment you grabbed my finger as if I'd slip away made me realize it can't be so bad." M/n held out his hand palm up so the younger male rested his hand in his grasp. "I was afraid at first you'd hate me. So I swore to protect you always. Some of my men live here with their families and they keep me posted. Just last year a rat was found on you door step admitting his faults."

Micheal remembered that the maids came rushing to get the family and a man bloody and beaten spilled his guts about planning to cross the family having been hired by a rival Mafia to get information to attack them at a weak state. "I know this won't mean munch to you know,but maybe at some point you'll be happy to carry my last name and call yourself my husband." In M/n hand that wasn't interlocked with Micheal's he opened a box revealing two wedding bands both were silver while one had a gold trim and the other had a f/c trim. "No matter what,Novak,I'll be there when yiu need me through it all most of the times guns blazing." M/n chuckled lightly taking in a deep breath. "Just ponder on it,pretty boy,I'llbe here waiting." as he slipped the ring on the silent man's finger before doing the same with himself he gently kissed the top of his head as he stood up and left wanting to give him space. Micheal smiled at the ring that perfectly fit his finger. The one man he felt attracted to was his guardian angel always there no matter what.

Lifting his hand up he kissed the metal band as a laugh left his lips. "My angel with a shotgun."

⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉

A/n: Second Male reader and I had to spell check for almost 50 she/her in her so I think I got them all lol.

@spnquotebingo

Quote: "I'm not saying I'm amazing,but I'm decently above average."-Blacklist @spnquotebingo

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rosaliestark01 · 4 years ago

Text

Dusk Till Dawn - Part 7

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter and your friends realize that you’re in trouble, meanwhile Tony seeks advice from the other Avengers

Warnings: angst, injured characters, angry!Y/N

A/N: @annies-marvel-imagines will no longer be posting more parts, but she will still receive credit.

Tony paces around his lab, clearly thinking hard. Lately, that was where he spent most of his time. Currently, He was working on an upgrade for your suit. Usually, he'd have finished the upgrade weeks ago, but for some reason, it is never good enough, and he inevitably ends up scrapping it and starting over.

"Tony, you've been working for hours," Pepper says as she steps into the room. "Vision ordered pizza."

"I'm not hungry," he mumbles without looking up. This time, he was sure that he'd be able to finish the upgrade. Then, he'd be able to move on to upgrading Peter's suit, then his own.

"You've been saying that a lot lately." Pepper sighs as she walks up to him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Does this have anything to do with Y/N?"

"You mean my daughter who hates me?" He mutters under his breath, but she heard it nonetheless.

"She doesn't hate you. She's just going through a tough time." Pepper was a teenager once, and she'd had times where her relationship with her parents wasn't perfect, despite them wanting the best for her. All she needed was time, and maybe you do too.

"Pep, she can barely look at me." In all his years of raising you, Tony had never thought that your relationship with him would ever become what it is now. "Did I do something wrong?"

Pepper didn't exactly know what to say to that. She didn't think that Tony did anything wrong, yet how could she make him see that?

"Come and eat. Maybe we can all talk about it downstairs," Pepper finally said as she leads Tony to where everyone else was waiting.

-----------------------

"Happy?"

Harley was currently poking Happy with a selfie stick he had found under someone's car in an attempt to wake him up. Unfortunately, it wasn't working, and Peter was starting to lose it.

"Dude, he's out cold," Harry groaned in annoyance that Harley actually thought that poking him could possibly wake him up. Harley rolled his eyes as he stood up, leaving the selfie stick next to Happy's motionless body.

Meanwhile, MJ was becoming fed up with Peter's constant pacing. She, and the rest of their friends, could clearly see that he was starting to lose his mind with worry, which was the least helpful thing at the moment.

"Sit down," MJ said to him in hopes that he'd calm down enough to think clearly. None of them could really be in the right state of mind while their superhuman friend was in panic mode.

"I can't-" He argued, and both Harry and Ned had to sit him down on a nearby bench. He seemed calmer, but not by much.

"Peter, just think for a second. Something isn't right," Ned exclaimed. It was pretty evident that something bigger was going on than just you going missing and Happy being knocked out.

"Yeah." Harley agrees, nodding his head while deep in thought, "Y/N goes missing, and Happy is out for the count."

"So someone took her?" Betty asks. Everyone was thinking it, but she was the first to say it aloud. It was scaring them how real this was starting to feel.

"Eloise," Peter huffed angrily. He should have known that she'd ruin everything, yet he allowed himself to let his guard down.

"Pete, Ellie didn't take Y/N," MJ sighed.

"Then who else could have?" He yelled. He was sick and tired of everyone seeing Eloise as an innocent misguided girl when in reality, she was the devil in disguise."I have told you guys since she moved here that she is bad news, but nobody listened! Now Y/N is gone, Happy is hurt, and I'm never going to see the love of my life again and-"

"Why would Eloise take Y/N?" Harley asked, not disagreeing with Peter though not wholly convinced. "What use would she have with her?"

"That's what I'm going to find out?"Peter stated as he stood up, his friends following close.

"You can't do that by yourself," MJ stated.

"I'll call Mr.Stark." ------------------------- "I dunno. It seems pretty clear that Y/N can't stand to be in the same room as him," Bucky stated bluntly, causing Steve to give him a light slap on the head.

"Buck," Steve scolded, but Bucky wasn't the only one who thought so.

"He has a point," Sam chimed in, although not wanting to be hit on the head like Bucky.

"Hey." Nat chastised. She's seen first-hand how much Tony cares about you. "It's pretty clear that Tony cares about Y/N. She is his daughter, after all."

"Does Y/N have a diary?" Rhodey asked, causing Pepper to glare at him.

"You're not going to read Y/N's diary," She states firmly. You deserve better than that. "That is a breach of privacy."

"So she has one?" Rhodey asks but quickly quiets down as soon as he sees the glare Pepper sends his way.

"Hey, it might give a reason for why she's so distant," Bucky mutters to the group, which provides mixed reactions. Few nod their heads in agreement, while few shake their head. Either way, they all have one thing in common, which is your best interests at heart.

"It might also give her a reason to distance herself even more. We want to gain her trust, not break it," Pepper argues sternly. She looks at Tony for backup, but one look at him tells that he is desperate for things to go back to the way they were.

"I'm gonna look," He finally says while getting up. Pepper gives him an incredulous look, so he continues, "Guys, this has gone too far. Whatever is wrong with Y/n has put her in danger. If Peter hadn't sensed that something was wrong, Y/N could be dead right now. I'm going to look."

For the past two weeks, he couldn't stop thinking about what could've happened at the bank. You could have died if Peter hadn't shown up. He was worried beyond belief that you'd not only die but die hating him.

"We all care about Y/N," Steve said, bringing some relief to Tony that at least someone was on his side. "She's a good kid, and as much as I disagree with invading her privacy, I do care about her safety. I think that any information could help. We need to get to the bottom of this."

Sighing, Pepper realized that maybe Tony and Steve were right. Something was going on with you, and she worried that it might get worse if something wasn't done soon.

"Well, I think it has something to do with that friend Y/N has been hanging out with," Bruce notes, causing everyone else to mumble words of agreement. Y/N hadn't started acting out until that troublemaker showed up.

"Agreed," Wanda said. "Nothing but trouble."

Everybody hesitantly makes their way into your room, and Nat's eyes immediately land on two flash drives, a red and a blue one, next to your computer.

"Maybe these could be something?" She says, plugging the red flash drive into your computer. Suddenly, everything made sense. The flash drive was full of files about you that belonged to Hydra. It had almost everything to know about you, but the most concerning one shocked everyone.

"She knows I'm not her real dad," Tony sighs. Everybody, except for Pepper, seemed to be speechless. None of them woke up in the morning knowing that they'd find out that you weren't really Tony's daughter, much less discover that you had HYDRA files on your computer.

"What do you mean you're not her real dad?" Bucky asks, just as confused as everyone else.

"And you never thought to tell Y/N yourself?" Steve interjects sternly. This was something you had a right to know. Obviously, you'd get upset from finding out from someone else."Do you know who her real parents are?"

"That's not important," Tony snaps, causing Steve's blood pressure to rise. It seemed important enough to you for you to start shutting everyone out. It's no wonder you couldn't trust anyone.

"It sounds like it is," He says coldly.

Before Tony could argue further, his phone started ringing. Judging from the ringtone, he could tell it was Peter, so he answered it quickly.

"What-?" Tony's exasperated voice was cut off by Peter's panicked rambling.

"Mr.Stark, Y/N's gone, and Happy is unconscious in the parking lot."

Everybody froze as soon as they realized what Peter was saying. Something had happened to you, and that was more important than finding out that Tony wasn't your biological dad.

"What?! What happened?"

"I don't know! She said she was going to the bathroom, and she never came back, and now Happy is lying unconscious in the middle of the parking lot, and I don't know what to do!"'

By now, everyone was panicking. This was definitely a million times worse than the bank incident because nobody knows where you are, who you're with, or what you're doing.

"Okay, just stay there. Someone will come to get you."

---------------

"Are you going to tell me what the emergency is?" You ask Ellie as she drives you towards the city. You didn't need super senses like Peter to know that this was beyond suspicious. It wasn't sitting well with you at all.

"Your dad is hurt," she muttered, but you heard her nonetheless.

"My dad?" Worry began to flow through you until you remembered that Ellie had no way to know something like that. "How? He was at the compound-"

"Your real dad," she agitatedly reminded you as she rolled her eyes. It made your blood boil how rude she was being. This wasn't like her at all, and you couldn't help but want to get as far away as possible.

The rest of the car ride was silent until you arrived at Ezekiel's apartment. It didn't look any better than when you were last there. In fact, it looked more run-down than it was before.

The moment Ellie pulled out a key to unlock the apartment, your suspicion grew tenfold. Why would she have access to his apartment?

"What happened?" You sighed as you both entered the apartment to find Ezekiel sitting on the recliner with a bloodied rag pressed to his side. It looked like he had the injury, but the pain didn't seem as apparent as it should. Your "dad" wasn't any better than she was, but that didn't mean that you let him get hurt. Still, he gave you the same weird vibes that Ellie did.

"Tony Stark happened," he barked. He suddenly stood up and began going through his drawers and sloppily throwing. "We need to get somewhere safe."

"Not until one of you tells me what the hell is going on," You say. Things were going so well until Ellie showed up. Now you have a headache and a possibly massive problem in the form of two suspicious individuals.

"Stark found out that you've been meeting with me," he explained, but you weren't buying it. The only people who knew were You, him, and Ellie. You even made sure that you weren't being followed.

"How?" You ask, crossing your arms, waiting for a good enough response.

"I don't know, but he showed up at my apartment and beat the living hell out of me," He retorted, his face scrunching up in anger.

You look at Ellie, who is standing by the door. To anyone else, it seems like she's just standing there, but you've had enough training from Nat and Bucky to know when someone is blocking an exit.

"I don't believe this." You mutter to yourself.

"You think I just happened to end up like this?" Ezekiel yells. You couldn't believe that you were stupid enough to fall for this. Their constant push for you to turn your back on your family was a huge red flag that you ignored. Not to mention you haven't forgotten that time that Ezekiel forgot your mom's name.

"What do you need my help with?" You ask, realizing that the only way out of this is to play along.

"I need you to help me destroy the Avengers."

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exclamaquest · 3 years ago

Text

It's come to my attention there's a few posts circulating around about me. I'd really appreciate it if people took the time to read this before blindly believing unsubstantiated claims made against me by people who were mad at me in the past for unrelated issues.

My ask box and DMs are open, and I'm more than willing to answer any questions and take any feedback anyone may have!

First, I admit I was wrong to post hate in the tags. I am sorry, and I shouldn't have done that. I removed the tag a while ago, but I should have made the apology beforehand. Again, I should not have done that, I will not do it in the future, and I'm sorry.

Now, onto the posts. These are just two of them.

Again, my inbox and DMs are open if anyone has any questions or wants any more clarification. I'm more than happy to explain anything I've said in further detail, or to answer any questions.

I'd like to make it clear that i'm by no means "playing the victim", nor did I ever make an "insensitive joke". Nothing I said was a joke. I'm more than willing to share screenshots (see below the cut) of what happened and elaborate on my opinions so that people can draw their own conclusions, and I will at the end of this post.

What I said was that Shinguuji was never canonically abused and that I was uncomfortable with the implication Miu is into incest. i respect that people have different opinions and interpretations of his character, but it's shitty to equate me saying i'm uncomfortable with the implication that miu is ALSO into incest by comparing her with korekiyo with me supporting it.

i'd heavily suggest people re-read his free time events. Again, Korekiyo was at no point canonically abused. It's not me "being shitty" or "playing the victim" to say that. I've posted a longer explanation here.

Again, I'm not saying any conflicting interpretations are bad. We really don't have a whole lot of evidence either way! However, it's wrong to act like he was canonically abused by his sister and to force that perception onto others and delete the takes you disagree with.

WRT the kink thing: Kinks do not have to be moral or healthy. The word is a neutral descriptor for something someone is into. There are plenty of immoral kinks, and plenty of kinks that are EXTREMELY unhealthy to feed into. Korekiyo is into incest. That is a fact. It is not a moral kink. In fact, it is disgusting and genuinely reprehensible. It's something that needs professional help. I do not condone it by any means. I do not support it. However, that does not stop it from being a kink. I also never "equat[ed] his abuse with a kink" because again, I don't think he was canonically abused to the fanon degree. (Which, again, is not backed up in canon. While the interpretation is valid, I was discussing specifically canon.)

HERE IS THE POST EXPLAINING MY TAKE ON KOREKIYO IN MORE DETAIL.

Also, I do not "cancel people for no reason". I'd love to see an example of that, as I try to back up any claims I make with sources and explanations so there is no confusion. However, I assume OP is referring to my H/ttey post. That was made to raise awareness of the bigotry in his art that he refused repeatedly to correct. Unlike these posts, there were screenshots and links to back up what I said.

I am not a bully, and i am always open to feedback on my actions and on how to improve. I'll drop all the screenshots I have here at the end of the section under the cut and people can make up their own minds.

SCREENSHOTS

I recognize that I did not phrase things as well as I could have, especially the last thing I said (While it is not an excuse by any means, I was in a very emotional state by my abuse being denied just because I have a different opinion than the majority fanon). I take full accountability for that. However, please note me getting banned directly after saying I was dropping the topic (of Korekiyo) for calling the mod out on their misuse of mod powers to shut down takes they disagree with.

THEIR RESPONSE IN ANOTHER SERVER

#theo.txt #dr #explanation post

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years ago

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A Little LOKI Theory Post

*SPOILERS FOR LOKI E1-3 BELOW CUT*

I am loathe to admit that I love the new LOKI TV series, mainly because of the Mobius/Loki dynamic, the interesting sci-fi plot, and just... I so far surprisingly like every episode. This was the show I had such low expectations for, because I didn’t really like LOKI – I felt he was the Moriarty of the MCU, overused when they didn’t need him, and making me annoyed by an actor I love.

EXCEPT I’m also a sucker for character-driven, psychoanalysis stories, like all these D+ Marvel shows are, and it’s leaving me super shocked about me liking characters I didn’t before. I’m fully invested in all these characters now.

I think the only reasom I really wanted to see this show for was because it ties directly into the next Dr. Strange movie, so YEAH, I’m in love multiverse and time travel things, so it was inevitable that I would enjoy this show, I think.

AND of course, I’ve theories and speculations because there’s a lot to work with, and I LOVE stories like these, so I decided I would take some time out and stretch out my meta-writing grey cells. And I wanted somewhere to have my theories/ideas written out before they come to fruition, because DAMNIT I have headcanons and hopes and dreams.

So here we go, spoilers below cut. Please note I know nothing about the comics aside from what other theorists and reviewers have mentioned:

The TVA are “the bad guys” but I think it goes deeper than that... Like the whole Timekeeper thing is really sus. I think it’s only one Timekeeper, who is Kang the Conqueror, who maintains the Sacred Timeline to ensure that he stays in power to PREVENT the Multiverse War which I think he knows happened to stop him. I also think Renslayer is behind all of this suspicious thing; I learned that in the comics Renslayer is a love interest for Kang, so like........... SUS.

AND I think Multiverse War they talked about in the beginning of the show IS the Multiverse War they’re ABOUT TO HAVE. This is a show about non-linear time, and there’s hints about multiverses in the next Spiderman, and Dr Strange is LITERALLY called “Multiverse of Madness”. Wild Theory: Maybe Doctor Strange IS one of the Time Keepers following the Multiverse War.

Loki initially wants to learn the enchanting that Sylvie does for his own selfish gain, and I think he was lying about breaking the TempPad so he would force her to open up. HOWEVER, I think he had a sudden change of heart after learning about the TVA’s Variant Staff; we already see him sort of fond of both Mobius and remembers Casey’s name, so I feel like that he will end up using this knowledge he gained very differently.

Further on this point, they established in Ep 3 that TVA agents / staff need actual real memories to “manipulate” them. So, I think Loki will use this power he learned from Sylvie (I mean, she explained to him how to do it, and this show is really good at using the “Chekov’s guns” given to us) to bring Mobius to “his side”, and TOGETHER they take down the TVA and make it what it should be. Mobius is very dedicated to the TVA, so I really do forsee that it will be Loki “freeing” Mobius as the catalyst to swaying to siding with Loki until the end. He’s a good man with a big heart for humanity, so I think he will totally side with freeing everyone else.

On that note, I think the reason Mobius is fascinated with the nineties is because he’s a variant jetskiier pulled from the nineties. I suspect in his original timeline he probably had a jetski accident and died, but in the Variant timeline, he survived, and out of pity I think Renslayer “saved” him and recruited him. The TVA wiped his memories after he couldn’t cope with the fact that he was SUPPOSED to die.

ALSO still on Mobius, I think every time he keeps questioning too much, he gets his memory wiped, which would explain why he never remembers leaving the cup stains on Renslayer’s table.

I think there’s more to Miss Minutes than meets the eye. Another theory I had was that she was similar to VIKI in iRobot, essentially running the company to her programmed “laws” after the TimeKeepers passed on. So like there’s no TimeKeepers at all, but there was at one time, and Miss Minutes was left to her own devices.

Another theory similar to this, is the Doctor Who episode, The Long Game, where everyone wants to be promoted to “Floor 500″ because it’s rumoured to be a paradise and is the top floor no one has ever returned from; It turns out it’s run by an alien that feeds on the human or something similar, and the people who went to the top floor ended up frozen husks of who they were. Not saying it’s this exact thing, but more the idea that everyone thinks what’s upstairs is a magical wonderful benevolent corporation looking out for what’s best for everyone, but instead it’s one evil thing doing stuff for their own purpose. Eh.

Another rogue theory: Mobius IS a Loki variant, which is why he’s obsessed with Loki himself, knows Loki better than Loki knows himself, and either knows and omitted it, or DOESN’T know but naturally is intrigued by the Loki Variant and him always finding out the truth is WHY his memory keeps getting wiped, and why everyone is always squeamish about having a Loki around. Mobius mentioned that Loki is the one Variant they have stopped more Lokis than any other Variant....

On that thought: IF Lokis are the most common Variant they capture, I think a LOT of the TVA are Loki Variants, trapped in the forms they were presenting as when they were brought in, and because magic doesn’t work in the TVA, they CAN’T turn off the glamour, had their memories wiped, and in turn could now be Codenamed Casey, or Mobius, or B15........ An abstract theory, but I think it’s interesting.

And another, since I learned that it is in the comics: Mobius is a clone drone. This one saddens me and I really hope he’s not. Because I love Mobius.

I think Sylvie was a Variant who worked for the TVA, but somehow had an awakening and wants to free everyone else... the only thing against this theory is her seeming surprised that her magic stopped working when she arrived at the TVA. If she was an agent, she would know that magic doesn’t work within the TVA.

And I think this series will inevitably – if the rumours of a Season 2 are true – have the Mobius / Loki dynamic solving Time Crimes... a.... Holmes and Watson if you will. :D HAHHA.

So yeah. This list will change obviously for the next 3 weeks, and I had a lot of fun with this so I will probably keep it up.

Some things I hope happen by the end:

A giant “probably not going to happen because this is Disney”: I hope they pay-off the “bisexual” confirmation by the end of this... highkey with Mobius (damn it I ship them okay), but lowkey just even a passing remark about anyone LOL. I really ship Lokius, okay. I need this dynamic in the MCU

PLEASE DON’T KILL CASEY, we love Casey. #FREECASEY

I’ll be really honest here, I will effing GROAN and be a not-happy Steph if they do the ship that I think they’re gonna do: Sylvie x Loki. Which is weird to me that Disney would be okay with self-love, but the OBVIOUS initial dynamic of Loki x Mobius is too much, “look we gave you bisexual Loki, aren’t you happy enough??” Just. I dunno. It’s weird / a pet peeve of mine that a lot of online reviewers are bitching about “woke” Disney the one time they ACTUALLY FINALLY let a title character say they’re queer, but are all “UWU SYLVIE AND LOKI ARE GONNA GET TOGETHER BECAUSE LOKI LOVES HIMSELF UWU”. Even though Loki spent legit more screen time with Mobius, and literally did everything he told Sylvie that he wouldn’t do around people he doesn’t trust around Mobius ALREADY?? It’s like they already forgot about the first two eps. LEGIT the whole dagger=love metaphor LITERALLY happened in the previous two episodes, but alright chiefs. Anyway. Sorry, it’s stupid to be bothered by it.

We’re gonna get that heart wrench moment that the other two shows had, and I TRULY BELIEVE it’s gonna be between Loki and Mobius when Loki tells / shows Mobius the truth. LOOK I JUST WANT MORE OF THEM OKAY. And I need my heart ripping moment in this show within the next two eps LOL. We got one in WandaVision. We got one in FATWS. GIVE ME ONE IN LOKI. MAKE ME LIKE LOKI.

Anyway, so that’s my rambling. Thanks for taking time out to read all this. I miss theorizing, and this show is perfect for me to do it. I’m not AS good at these shows as I was with Sherlock, but it’s still fun, because it’s new and my brain is full of headcanons and idea things. I’ll write again after Ep 4, I think. <3 Thank you lovelies for letting me do this!

#my ramblings #my meta #my theories #loki spoilers #loki #loki meta #not sherlock #i just really miss writing meta #and i now ship lokius #so give me lokius fics please #long post under cut

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ot3 · 4 years ago

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i watched red vs blue: zero with my dear friends today and i was asked to “post” my “thoughts” on the subject. Please do not click this readmore unless, for some reason, you want to read three thousand words on the subject of red vs blue: zero critical analysis. i highly doubt that’s the reason anyone is following me, but hey.

anyway. here you have it.

Here are my opinions on RVB0 as someone who has quite literally no nostalgia for any older RVB content. I’ve seen seasons 1-13 once and bits and pieces of it more than once here and there, but I only saw it for the first time within the past couple of months. I’ve literally never seen any other RT/AH content. I can name a few people who worked on OG Red vs. Blue but other than Mounty Oum I have NO idea who is responsible for what, really, or what anything else they’ve ever worked on is, or whether or not they’re awful people. I know even less about the people making RVB0 - All I know is that the main writer is named Torrian but I honestly don’t even know if that’s a first name, a last name, or a moniker. All this to say; nothing about my criticism is rooted in any perceived slight against the franchise or branding by the new staff members, because I don’t know or care about any of it. In fact, I’m going to try and avoid any direct comparison between RVB0 and earlier seasons of RVB as a means of critique until the very end, where I’ll look at that relationship specifically.

So here is my opinion of RVB0 as it stands right now:

1. The Writing

Everything about RVB0 feels as if it was written by a first-time writer who hasn’t learned to kill his darlings. The narrative is both simultaneously far too full, leaving very little breathing room for character interaction, and oddly sparse, with a story that lacks any meaningful takeaway, interesting ideas, or genuine emotional connection. It also feels like it’s for a very much younger audience - I don’t mean this as a negative at all. I love tv for kids. I watch more TV for kids than I do for adults, mostly, but I think it’s important to address this because a lot of the time ‘this is for kids�� is used to act like you’re not allowed to critique a narrative thoroughly. It definitely changes the way you critique it, but the critique can still be in good faith. I watched the entirety of RVB0 only after it was finished, in one sitting, and I was giving it my full attention, essentially like it was a movie. I’m going to assume it was much better to watch in chunks, because as it stood, there was literally no time built into the narrative to process the events that had just transpired, or try and predict what events might be coming in the future. When there’s no time to think about the narrative as you’re watching it, the narrative ends up as being something that happens to the audience, not something they engage with. It’s like the difference between taking notes during a lecture or just sitting and listening. If you’re making no attempt to actively process what’s happening, it doesn’t stick in your mind well. I found myself struggling to recall the events and explanations that had immediately transpired because as soon as one thing had happened, another thing was already happening, and it was like a mental juggling act to try and figure out which information was important enough to dwell on in the time we were given to dwell on it.

Which brings me to another point - pacing. Every event in the show, whether a character moment, a plot moment, or a fight scene, felt like it was supposed to land with almost the exact same amount of emotional weight. It all felt like The Most Important Thing that had Yet Happened. And I understand that this is done as an attempt to squeeze as much as possible out of a rather short runtime, but it fundamentally fails. When everything is the most important thing happening, it all fades into static. That’s what most of 0’s narrative was to me: static. It’s only been a few hours since I watched it but I had to go step by step and type out all of the story beats I could remember and run it by my friends who are much more enthusiastic RVB fans than I am to make sure I hadn’t missed or forgotten anything. I hadn’t, apparently, but the fact that my takeaway from the show was pretty accurate and also disappointingly lackluster says a lot. Strangely enough, the most interesting thing the show alluded to - a holo echo, or whatever the term they used was - was one of the things least extrapolated upon in the show’s incredibly bulky exposition. Benefit of the doubt says that’s something they’ll explore in future seasons (are they getting more? Is that planned? I just realized I don’t actually know.)

And bulky it was! I have quite honestly never seen such flagrant disregard for the rule of “show, don’t tell.” There was not a single ounce of subtlety or implication involved in the storytelling of RVB0. Something was either told to you explicitly, or almost entirely absent from the narrative. Essentially zilch in between. We are told the dynamic the characters have with each other, and their personality pros and cons are listed for us conveniently by Carolina. The plot develops in exposition dumps. This is partially due to the series’ short runtime, but is also very much a result of how that runtime was then used by the writers. They sacrificed a massive chunk of their show for the sake of cramming in a ton of fight scenes, and if they wanted to keep all of those fight scenes, it would have been necessary to pare down their story and characters proportionally in comparison, but they didn’t do that either. They wanted to have it both ways and there simply wasn’t enough time for it.

The story itself is… uninteresting. It plays out more like the flimsy premise of a video game quest rather than a piece of media to be meaningfully engaged with. RVB0 is I think something I would be pitched by a guy who thinks the MCU and BNHA are the best storytelling to come out of the past decade. It is nothing but tropes. And I hate having to use this as an insult! I love tropes. The worst thing about RVB0 is that nothing it does is wholly unforgivable in its own right. Hunter x Hunter, a phenomenal shonen, is notoriously filled with pages upon pages of detailed exposition and explanations of things, and I absolutely love it. Leverage, my favorite TV show of all time, is literally nothing but a five man band who has to learn to work as a team while seemingly systematically hitting a checklist of every relevant trope in the book. Pacific Rim is an incredibly straightforward good guys vs giant monsters blockbuster to show off some cool fight scenes such as a big robot cutting an alien in half with a giant sword, and it’s some of the most fun I ever have watching a movie. Something being derivative, clunky, poorly executed in some specific areas, narratively weak, or any single one of these flaws, is perfectly fine assuming it’s done with the intention and care that’s necessary to make the good parts shine more. I’ll forgive literally any crime a piece of media commits as long as it’s interesting and/or enjoyable to consume. RVB0 is not that. I’m not sure what the main point of RVB0 was supposed to be, because it seemingly succeeds at nothing. It has absolutely nothing new or innovative to justify its lack of concern for traditional storytelling conventions. Based solely on the amount of screentime things were given, I’d be inclined to say the narrative existed mostly to give flimsy pretense for the fight scenes, but that’s an entire other can of worms.

2. The Visuals + Fights

I have no qualms with things that are all style and no substance. Sometimes you just want to see pretty colors moving on the screen for a while or watch some cool bad guys and monsters or whatever get punched. RVB0 was not this either. The show fundamentally lacked a coherent aesthetic vision. Much of the show had a rather generic sci-fi feel to it with the biggest standouts to this being the very noir looking cityscape, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like something from a batman game, or the temple, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like a world of warcraft raid. They were obviously attempting to get variety in their environment design, which I appreciate, but they did this without having a coherent enough visual language to feel like it was all part of the same world. In general, there was also just a lack of visual clarity or strong shots. The value range in any given scene was poor, the compositions and framing were functional at best, and the character animation was unpleasantly exaggerated. It just doesn’t really look that good beyond fancy rendering techniques.

The fight scenes are their entire own beast. Since ‘FIGHT SCENE’ is the largest single category of scenes in the show, they definitely feel worth looking at with a genuine critical eye. Or, at least, I’d like to, but honestly half the time I found myself almost unable to look at them. The camera is rarely still long enough to really enjoy what you’re watching - tracking the motion of the character AND the camera at such constant breakneck high speeds left little time to appreciate any nuances that might have been present in the choreography or character animation. I tried, believe me, I really did, but the fight scenes leave one with the same sort of dizzy convoluted spectacle as a Michael Bay transformers movie. They also really lacked the impact fight scenes are supposed to have.

It’s hard to have a good, memorable fight scene without it doing one of three things: 1. Showing off innovative or creative fighting styles and choreography 2. Making use of the fight’s setting or environment in an engaging and visually interesting way or 3. Further exploring a character’s personality or actions by the way they fight. It’s also hard to do one of these things on its own without at least touching a bit on the other two. For the most part, I find RVB0’s fight scenes fail to do this. Other than rather surface level insubstantial factors, there was little to visually distinguish any of RVB0’s fight scenes from each other. Not only did I find a lot of them difficult to watch and unappealing, I found them all difficult to watch and unappealing in an almost identical way. They felt incredibly interchangeable and very generic. If you could take a fight scene and change the location it was set and also change which characters were participating and have very little change, it’s probably not a good fight scene.

I think “generic” is really just the defining word of RVB0 and I think that’s also why it falls short in the humor department as well.

3. The Comedy

Funny shit is hard to write and humor is also incredibly subjective but I definitely got almost no laughs out of RVB0. I think a total of three. By far the best joke was Carolina having a cast on top of her armor, which, I must stress, is an incredibly funny gag and I love it. But overall I think the humor fell short because it felt like it was tacked on more than a natural and intentional part of this world and these characters. A lot of the jokes felt like they were just thrown in wherever they’d fit, without any build up to punchlines and with little regard for what sort of joke each character would make. Like, there was some, obviously Raymond’s sense of humor had the most character to it, but the character-oriented humor still felt very weak. When focusing on character-driven humor, there’s a LOT you can establish about characters based on what sort of jokes they choose to make, who they’re picking as the punchlines of these jokes, and who their in-universe audience for the jokes is. In RVB0, the jokes all felt very immersion-breaking and self aware, directed wholly towards the audience rather than occurring as a natural result of interplay between the characters. This is partially due to how lackluster the character writing was overall, and the previously stated tight timing, but also definitely due to a lack of a real understanding about what makes a joke land.

A rule of thumb I personally hold for comedy is that, when push comes to shove, more specific is always going to be more funny. The example I gave when trying to explain this was this:

saying two characters had awkward sex in a movie theater: funny

saying two characters had an awkward handjob in a cinemark: even funnier

saying two characters spent 54 minutes of 11:14's 1:26 runtime trying out some uncomfortably-angled hand stuff in the back of a dilapidated cinemark that lost funding halfway through retrofitting into a dinner theater: the funniest

The more specific a joke is, the more it relies on an in-depth understanding of the characters and world you’re dealing with and the more ‘realistic’ it feels within the context of your media. Especially with this kind of humor. When you’re joking with your friends, you don’t go for stock-humor that could be pulled out of a joke book, you go for the specific. You aim for the weak spots. If a set of jokes could be blindly transplanted into another world, onto another cast of characters, then it’s far too generic to be truly funny or memorable. I don’t think there’s a single joke in RVB0 where the humor of it hinged upon the characters or the setting.

Then there’s the issue of situational comedy and physical comedy. This is really where the humor being ‘tacked on’ shows the most. Once again, part of what makes actually solid comedy land properly is it feeling like a natural result of the world you have established. Real life is absurd and comical situations can be found even in the midst of some pretty grim context, and that’s why black comedy is successful, and why comedy shows are allowed to dip into heavier subject matter from time to time, or why dramas often search for levity in humor. It’s a natural part of being human to find humor in almost any situation. The key thing, though, once again, is finding it in the situation. Many of RVB0’s attempts at humor, once again, feel like they would be the exact same jokes when stripped from their context, and that’s almost never good. A pretty fundamental concept in both storytelling in general but particularly comedy writing is ‘setup and payoff’. No joke in RVB0 is a reward for a seemingly innocuous event in an earlier scene or for an overlooked piece of environmental design. The jokes pop in when there’s time for them in between all the exposition and fighting, and are gone as soon as they’re done. There’s no long term, underlying comedic throughline to give any sense of coherence or intent to the sense of humor the show is trying to establish. Every joke is an isolated one-off quip or one-liner, and it fails to engage the audience in a meaningful way.

All together, each individual component of RVB0 feels like it was conjured up independently, without any concern to how it interacted with the larger product they were creating. And I think this is really where it all falls apart. RVB0 feels criminally generic in a way reminiscent of mass-market media which at least has the luxury of attributing these flaws, this complete and total watering down of anything unique, to heavy oversight and large teams with competing visions. But I don’t think that’s the case for RVB0. I don’t know much about what the pipeline is like for this show, but I feel like the fundamental problem it suffers from is a lack of heart.

In comparison to Red vs. Blue

Let's face it. This is a terrible successor to Red vs. Blue. I wouldn’t care if NONE of the old characters were in it - that’s not my problem. I haven’t seen past season 13 because from what I heard the show already jumped the shark a bit and then some. That’s not what makes it a poor follow up. What makes it a bad successor is that it fundamentally lacks any of the aspects of the OG RVB that made it unique or appealing at all. I find myself wondering what Torrian is trying to say with RVB0 and quite literally the only answer I find myself falling back onto is that he isn’t trying to say anything at all. Regardless of what you feel about the original RVB, it undeniably had things to say. The opening “why are we here” speech does an excellent job at establishing that this is a show intended to poke fun at the misery of bureaucracy and subservience to nonsensical systems, not just in the context of military life, but in a very broad-strokes way almost any middle-class worker can relate to. At the end of the day, fiction is at its best when it resonates with some aspect of its audience’s life. I know instantly which parts of the original Red vs Blue I’m supposed to relate to. I can’t say anything even close to that about 0.

RVB is an absurdist parody that heavily satirizes aspects of the military and life as a low-on-the-food-chain worker in general that almost it’s entire target audience will be familiar with. The most significant draw of the show to me was how the dialogue felt like listening to my friends bicker with each other in our group chats. It required no effort for me to connect with and although the narrative never outright looked to the camera and explained ‘we are critiquing the military’s stupid red tape and self-fullfilling eternal conflict’ they didn’t need to, because the writing trusted itself and its audience enough to believe this could be conveyed. It is, in a way, the complete antithesis to the badass superhero macho military man protagonist that we all know so well. RVB was saying something, and it was saying it in a rather novel format.

Nothing about RVB0 is novel. Nothing about RVB0 says anything. Nothing about it compels me to relate to any of these characters or their situations. RVB0 doesn’t feel like absurdism, or satire. RVB0 feels like it is, completely uncritically, the exact media that RVB itself was riffing off of. Both RVB0 and RVB when you watch them give you the feeling that what you’re seeing here is kids on a playground larping with toy soldiers. It’s all ridiculous and over the top cliche stupid garbage where each side is trying to one-up the other. The critical difference is, in RVB, we’re supposed to look at this and laugh at how ridiculous this is. In RVB0 we’re supposed to unironically think this is all pretty badass.

The PFL arc of the original RVB existed to show us that setting up an elite team of supersoldiers with special powers was something done in bad faith, with poor outcomes, that left everyone involved either cruel, damaged, or dead. It was a bad thing. And what we’re seeing in RVB0 is the same premise, except, this time it’s good. We’re supposed to root for this format. RVB0 feels much more like a demo reel, cutscenes from a video game that doesn’t exist, or a shonen anime fanboy’s journal scribbling than it feels like a piece of media with any objective value in any area. In every area that RVB was anti-establishment, RVB0 is pure undiluted establishment through and through.

#long post #really long post guys. look out !#rvb

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

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i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening.

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things.

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game.

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you.

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped.

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs.

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it.

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what��s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings.

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!”

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes.

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint.

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed.

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows.

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night.

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off.

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset.

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch.

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced.

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver.

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub.

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks.

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen.

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room.

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance.

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount.

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

“I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together.

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket.

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless.

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny x reader #travis konecny fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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yeenybeanies · 3 years ago

Text

INTRO: Clayton Hess

just some quick info to clear things up: this is a world wherein humans & human-sized things exist, but also centaurs exist, & centaurs are huge. this is normal. well... semi-normal. humans and giantfolk don't tend to interact much. but!! this is my first piece with my big centaur boy clay posting here as promised! one day late smh you can find this piece and others on my patreon!

OCS | clayton hess

5,671 words

no warnings

thanks for reading!

Before the sun had even risen, there was much activity on the floor of the towering megaforest. People scrambled about at the mouth of the path leading further in, calling out to each other, distributing supplies, reigning in their horses, calming their dogs. Everyone moved with an urgent, anxious energy.

“O’Rourke! All teams are ready to depart.”

The old man, O’Rourke, lifted his eyes first to the horizon, and then to the one addressing him. His fluffy, grey eyebrows stayed fixed, knitted in a stern, stony frown. “Good. Stay ready, ladies and gentlemen. As soon as that sun rises, we’re going in.”

“You said that we had one more joining us?” The same person, a woman named Sanouk, looked to the teams of people assembled around her. “Who are they going with?”

“Yeah, he said he’d be here.” O’Rourke continued to watch the sky, noting the changing colors. The pinks and purples were gradually bleeding into oranges and yellows. Dawn was almost over. “Don’t worry about placing him. He’s gonna be going on his own.”

Sanouk eyed him skeptically. “Why? We already have one missing girl to find in this megaforest; we don’t need to lose anyone else. He could go with Team Fou––. . ..” Her words trailed off, her attention suddenly occupied with something else. First she felt it in the ground: a low rumbling, almost like a faint earthquake; then she heard it as a steadily-growing thunder.

O’Rourke shook his head and waved off her concerns. “I don’t think he’ll be getting lost. He knows these woods like the back of his hand.”

“But––but that’s–-” Sanouk tried to speak, but her rising concern over the thundering and the quaking kept cutting her off. O’Rourke could see the worry on her face, and on the faces of everyone else present, but he chose not to address it. All questions would be answered momentarily.

The disturbance sounded like a landslide. It had not only the people nervous, but the dogs and horses as well. A few high-strung beasts reared up and hollered their concern, while others fidgeted anxiously. The noise crescendoed, then abruptly quieted to a slower, rhythmic thumping. Concern in the gathering turned to confusion. Still, O’Rourke looked unbothered.

All attention snapped to a rustling in the dense foliage lining the path’s mouth. Alarmed gasps and yelps rang out as the source of the disturbance––the rustling, the rumbling, the quaking––pushed his way through the trees and stepped into view. Dogs barked, horses whinnied, and a good many people retreated several feet away from the newcomer.

The two most notable things about this newcomer were his enormous size, and his four very equine legs––and equine body from the waist down. He was a centaur. From under the wide brim of his hat, he surveyed the crowd, noting the fear in many a human and beast.

“Mr. Hess!” O’Rourke removed his hat and waved it, drawing the newcomer’s attention. “Good morning! Glad you could join us.” The old man strode forward, through the still nervous crowd.

“Morning,” the centaur said, his voice unexpectedly, and intentionally soft. He remained where he was, neither wanting to scare the crowd more, nor risk getting any of them underhoof.

O’Rourke stopped a few yards away from the centaur and turned around to face the crowd. He waved an arm up. “Everyone, this is Clayton Hess. As you can see, he’s a centaur, so be sure to keep out of his way. He’ll be helping us in searching for that little girl. Sanouk––” He beckoned the woman to step forward, which she did after some hesitation, “––if you’ll please give him a quick rundown of the plan, then we can be on our way.”

Sanouk stared up at Clay, her mouth agape. Clay paid it no mind, being quite used to the range of emotions humans felt whenever they first saw him. He took a couple of steps backwards and slowly lowered himself onto the ground, legs tucked neatly under him, out of the way. From there, he leaned forward, arms folded behind his back.

“Morning, Miss,” he said with a polite dip of his head. “I hope I can be of some help in finding––”

“Mani Sanouk,” she interrupted, her hand extended out to him. She moved stiffly, clearly uneasy.

Clay blinked, one brow raised. This wasn’t the first time a human had offered to “shake his hand,” but it was still an unusual gesture. Not wanting to be rude, however, he brought around one hand and, moving deliberately slow, offered his pinky to meet her. “Just ‘Clay’ is fine. Pleasure to meet you.”

Sanouk went rigid at his hand’s approach, so much so that Clay could feel her tension when they made contact. She was a tough woman, though; she held onto her nerve through their “handshake,” and didn’t flinch at his retreat.

“You as well. Here’s a map that shows . . . er . . ..” As she pulled said map from her satchel, Sanouk frowned. It was a rather large map in her hands, but, to a truly behemoth being like Clay, it was no bigger than a business card. “Erm, right. Teams One and Two will be covering these sections,” she said, pointing to the marked areas. “Three and four will be covering these sections.”

Clay squinted at the map. He couldn’t quite make out all of the writing, but the marked sections were clear enough. “Understood. I’ll cover those four sections to the East.”

“Four of them?” Sanouk’s head snapped up to meet his eyes. “That is a lot of ground. Are you sure you’re going to be able to––” she paused mid-sentence, reconsidering her question and the being she was talking to. Clay allowed himself some amusement and a faint smile.

“I might be able to cover more, depending on when and where we’re rendezvousing.”

“Right . . .. Right. Okay.” She looked back down to the map and pointed to a river bend. “We will all meet back at this bend in Joyelette’s River at noon. That will give each team about five hours to search their sections. Do you know who we are looking for?”

“I do,” the centaur said with a nod. “O’Rourke printed me a picture and gave me all the information I needed.”

Sanouk returned the nod and stowed her map once more. “Then we are good to start.”

Clay gave the woman a moment to step back, then pushed himself off of the ground and rose to his full, towering height. “I’ll head out first. Best of luck to all of you. Let’s find this girl.” He tipped his hat to the crowd, then turned and started off on the trail into the giant forest. Once he was several yards away, he could hear the other groups slowly filtering in behind him. Their horses and dogs still made nervous noises, but he figured they’d calm once he was out of sight.

It was always interesting to see how humans and animals that had never encountered a centaur before reacted to him.

– – –

By ten o’clock, the forest had changed dramatically. The sun hung high in the sky, beating down on the landscape below. It was hot and humid, almost muggy. Birds swooped around Clay’s head, snatching up insects from the tiny swarm that he’d accumulated. While most of the insects were too small to actually bother him, there were still the occasional few that managed to make a nuisance of themselves. They had his ears flicking, his tail swishing. He lamented silently to himself for not bringing some sort of repellant.

“Pauline!” he called, his voice echoing amongst the trees. He tempered his yell, not wanting to scare the girl, but wanting to be heard, should she be around. “Pauline Kelly! Are you there?”

Silence. Clay sighed, his ears drooping momentarily. This wasn’t his first rescue mission, nor would it be his last; he was familiar with the monotony and the frustrating silence after every call.

Sometimes the missing person was found. Sometimes they weren’t.

He hoped, for this little girl’s sake, she would be found. It wasn’t just exposure that could kill out here. Megaforests were not meant for humans, let alone for human children. Like the massive trees and the greenery, the fauna in here were gargantuan in their own right. Most of the larger creatures wouldn’t pay mind to a human; it was the smaller ones––relatively speaking––that worried Clay more.

Clay stopped in his tracks, stiff, ears pricked. A scream. A scream broke the silence.

“Pauline? Pauline!” The centaur called out. “Pauline, can you hear me?”

“Help!”

There! Clay’s head snapped in the direction of the scream. Turning quick on his hooves, he leapt into a gallop. “Pauline! I’m coming!” From the sounds of things, she couldn’t be too far away. He raced through the foliage, running so fast that he might as well have been flying. The girl screamed again, making the centaur skid to a halt and reassess his direction. He looked around desperately, feeling his anxiety rising.

There!

Atop a fallen log, a bear-sized, reptilian creature dug at the rotting wood with its claws. Another scream rang out, a little muffled. Clay gritted his teeth and rushed the lizard. Upon spotting him, it puffed up and hissed, but its threats were no match for his own. He halted before the log and reared up on his hind legs, forehooves kicking, promising something far deadlier than anything it could offer in return. Fighting a full-grown centaur was not worth whatever meal it could have made of the girl. It quickly deflated and skittered away, nearly losing its footing in its haste to avoid Clay’s punishment. Only once it disappeared into the underbrush and vanished from all his senses did Clay turn his eyes to the log, his expression softening.

“Pauline?” Carefully he approached the log, ears angled towards it. Quiet sniffles and whimpers came from within. Clay rested a hand atop the log and peered in through the hole the lizard was digging at. There, backed into a little nook, sat the girl from the picture––the girl they were all looking for. Dirt caked her skin, and her clothes looked torn. He couldn’t see much else of her physical state, but she was alive. Relief overcame the centaur.

Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived. The girl, upon looking up and seeing Clay’s massive face staring down at her, let out an ear-splitting shriek. Clay flinched, ears swiveling backwards to try and dampen the noise. His hands shot up in a placating gesture, though it only made the girl scream again.

“Miss Pauline––please! I’m here to help you. If you could just come out––awh––!”

The girl scrambled out of view. Clay bit back a frustrated groan and tried to catch sight of her again. From the sounds of things, she was crawling deeper into the log.

By the skies, it would have been better if one of the human groups had found her. She was, understandably, terrified of him. It was going to be a challenge to get her out of the log. He could tear it open, but that would just scare the little one even more, and could potentially harm her. He’d save that as a last resort.

Clay sighed. He rubbed his temples, digging under his hat. With a heavy thud, the centaur sat down on his haunches. He figured he might be here for a while.

“I know you’re scared, dearheart. You’ve been in this forest for two days, probably seen some frightening critters like that lizard. Probably hungry n’ thirsty. Tired too.” He opted not to say as much, but Clay figured that the girl would not have survived another night in the megaforest. She was lucky to have made it this long.

“My name’s Clay,” he continued. He kept his voice soft, hoping that he might be able to soothe her. “I know I’m big, and I’m kinda scary-looking, like everything else in these woods. But your Ma and Pa––Mr. Marty and Mrs. Lana Kelly––they’re both real’ worried about you. They sent me and a bunch of other people out here to look for you.”

The sniffling was softer now. Clay had to strain his hearing to catch it. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign. He listened, silently willing the girl to give him something––any sort of sign that he was getting somewhere with her.

“Y-you… know my mom and dad?” came the small voice after a long silence. Clay’s ears flicked up. Oh, in this moment, her voice was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

“Er––yes. I know them.” Or rather, he knew of them. It didn’t matter right now. “They’ve got a whole lot of us combing these woods for you, Miss Pauline. They miss you bunches, want you to come home.”

The girl went silent again, much to Clay’s alarm. He stood up again and tried to spot her within the log. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at her the first time; he could only guess her condition. Was she injured? Had he been too late in chasing off that lizard? He couldn’t smell any blood, but maybe–––

Wait. The girl was on the move again, picking her way through the log’s hollow interior. Clay followed the sound with ears and eyes as she climbed down towards the lower end. Though he was tempted to meet her down there, he decided that it was best to remain still and let her come to him.

Hopefully she wouldn’t run when she saw him.

Once she reached the opening at the bottom––likely the same opening she’d entered the log through––Pauline timidly peeked around the jagged wood. Wide eyes first found the centaur’s giant hooves, then followed up his forelegs, his torso, and way, way up to his face, where he stared right back down at her. She shrank away upon meeting his gaze, but didn’t break eye contact. Clay felt a pang in his hearts.

“That’s it, dearheart,” he said, his voice as soft as he could manage without outright whispering. “You’re so brave. Can you come a little closer so I can see you better?”

Pauline shook her head quickly. It didn’t surprise Clay.

“Okay… that’s fine. I’m gonna sit down, alright? Don’t go nowhere.” He waited a moment for a response, and continued on when he got none. Slowly, and keeping his hands where the girl could see them, Clay got down onto his foreknees, and then dropped his hocks. The girl flinched, but didn’t run.

“Alright now. I know you’re scared, little one. I understand. But I promise, I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Pauline just continued to stare up at him. Sitting down did cut nearly a third of his height, but Clay still towered a good sixty feet over the girl. He did his best not to loom, impossible as it was.

He told her more about himself, about how he’d come into these woods many times to find lost humans, about how he liked to grow fruits and raise bees. He asked her some questions, too––some of which she even answered. Some of them, he already knew the answers too. Pauline Kelly was seven years old, an older sister, and she’d just had a birthday when she went missing. What he learned was that her favorite color was blue––like the color of his shirt, she liked to fingerpaint, and she thought his hair was pretty. That last point, wholly unprompted, caught the centaur off-guard.

“You like my hair?”

Pauline nodded. “Mhm.” She looked a little less scared now, and stood where Clay could better see her. Thankfully, save for some minor scrapes and bruises, she looked unharmed.

Clay pushed his hat backwards off his head, letting it fall and catch on the string around his neck. Black and grey locks spiked out at odd angles, only partially tamed with a swipe of his hand.

“You wanna touch it?”

His offer had the girl pause. She regarded him nervously, looking between his face, his hair, his hands, and… down at his tail. Clay followed her gaze. That could be a good first step. She could reach his tail on her own. He swished it around so the long hair, the same black and grey as was on his head, was closer, and more in his view.

“Go on ahead. I won’t move none,” he encouraged. Pauline hesitated, clearly debating with herself. Eventually, her curiosity won the debate. Though she remained wary of Clay, glancing up at him every other second, she shuffled out from the log’s shelter. She gave him a wide berth as she circled over to his tail. Even when she stood a mere foot from him, she paused. An approving nod from Clay granted her the last bit of encouragement she needed to sit down on her knees and run her hands over the dark locks.

Clay’s tail was kempt, for a farmer. He combed it and kept it neatly trimmed without sacrificing its purpose. Even still, the hair was coarse and wiry, as was the case with all centaur tails and manes. That didn’t seem to bother Pauline, though. She rubbed chunks of hair between her hands, combed her fingers through it, and even twisted a few locks into tiny braids. Then she stood up and moved closer to his hind hoof––the white-socked one. Clay watched her carefully, but remained still, wanting neither to spook her nor hurt her. She knocked her little fists against the tough, cream nail, and then the metal shoe underneath.

“Did this hurt?” She asked. For the moment, there was more wonder in her eyes than fear.

“Hm? The shoe? Naw, that didn’t hurt none. Barely felt it when I had them put in.”

Pauline moved on from the hoof and dared to step even closer, right up to his side. Clay leaned over to better keep an eye on her. She dusted her hands––what a polite girl––and raised them to feel the short, tan fur along his flank. It too was pretty coarse, though it was a bit softer than his tail.

“It’s a lot softer up here,” Clay offered, startling the girl. Her head whipped up to meet his gaze. She looked a little bewildered, as though she’d forgotten that he was alive and present. He pointed to his head of hair. “Softest you’ll find on a centaur. And I take real’ good care of mine.” He gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Immediately, the girl’s nervousness returned. “Um…”

Clay twisted his upper body to better face her. He brought one hand down to the ground a few feet away from her, palm up, fingers flat. “Promise I won’t hurt you, Miss Pauline.”

She stared at his hand, once again debating with herself. Clay waited patiently, watching her, willing to accept if she didn’t want to come to him immediately. They still had another hour or so before the rendezvous at the river. So long as no danger came along, he would use that time to gain her trust. It’d make things easier for the both of them. The girl deserved to feel safe after two days of being lost in a megaforest.

With an understandable amount of hesitancy, Pauline drew nearer to Clay’s hand. Like she had his tail and his hoof, she first inspected it. Next to him, the girl was miniscule. From fingertip to wrist, his hand was longer than most humans were tall. With her, his pinky finger exceeded her in height. She gave the pad of his index finger an experimental prod, and flinched when it twitched in response. Clay offered a quick apology. It seemed to reassure her, if only a little. She put her hands to his finger again, feeling over the whorls and the callouses. Clays hands, though gentle, were not soft. They were the hands of a working man, rough and weathered..

It took the girl a few more minutes of touching and feeling, and a little bit more encouragement from Clay, before she felt confident enough to step up onto his hand. She took a few unsteady steps over his fingers, finding it a little unusual and difficult to walk on such a squishy surface. Where his fingers met his palm, she lost her balance and fell onto her knees with a yelp. Clay fought back the urge to cup his hand around her.

“You’re okay, dearheart. Why don’t you sit down in the middle right there, hunh? Get yourself comfortable.”

Pauline, finding that to be a good idea, did as told and sat herself cross-legged in the center of his palm. She planted her hands to either side of her for balance. Smart girl. Once she settled, his fingers curled in around her, not enough to enclose her, but to make a barrier to keep her from falling. She sat in nervous silence, glancing at her surroundings. Slowly, carefully, Clay lifted his hand from the ground. The girl tensed, but made no sound as he brought her up to eye level. It was even more obvious now how small she was compared to him.

Up close, Clay could get a better look at her. Her clothes were dirty and torn in places, she had a layer of dirt and mud caking her skin, and her arms and legs had a good many abrasions. Overall, though, she looked fine. Stressed and ready to get home to her parents, but fine.

Her sniffling snapped Clay out of his silent observation. He blinked twice and regarded the girl inquisitively. She’d begun shaking in his hand, and little tears pooled in her eyes.

“Now now, Miss Pauline. You’ve gotten this far. You can be brave for a bit longer.” A warm smile spread across his lips. She was a cute little girl. Tough, too. If she weren’t so terrified, the centaur might have given her a little nuzzle. Instead, though, he’d give her what she was promised for her bravery. Clay brought the girl closer and tipped his head forward, letting his forelocks hang closer to her. He closed his eyes, hoping that it might make the girl more comfortable. Once all stopped moving, Pauline stood up, still a bit shaky. She reached out to the long strands, taking a handful and filtering it through her fingers. Clay had not been lying; the hair on his head was much softer than that on his tail or his fur. Pauline was immediately enraptured. She ran her hands through it, rubbed a lock to her cheek, fluffed it and smoothed it again. She took a chunk and loosely braided it, giggling softly. Clay was content to let her do as she pleased. He was surprised, though, when she moved closer and ran a hand over his eyebrow. Said eyebrow twitched, then joined its counterpart in a furrow.

“What are you doing, little one?” He spoke not with any accusation, but rather kind amusement.

“You’re missing hair on this one,” she said, touching his right brow. Clay opened his eyes, but she was too close for him to focus on. His eyelashes brushed her arms, drawing another giggle from her.

“Yep. Got a cut a long, long time ago, and the hair never grew back.” His smile widened. A child’s wonder was a marvelous thing to see. To be the object of that wonder was, in a way, flattering. After everything this girl had been through over the past couple of days, she deserved some happiness.

“Could I please touch your beard?” she asked. Wordlessly, Clay obliged. He tipped his head back, lifting his chin so she could reach it. With far less hesitation than before, the girl pushed her hands into the shorter hair. It wasn’t as soft as the hair on his head, but still softer than his tail. It tickled her palms as she rubbed along his chin and jaw.

Clay glanced up at the sky, noting the sun’s position. There was still time, but noon was approaching.

“Dearheart,” he said, gently pulling his head back so he could better regard her. “I’d love to let you braid my hair all day, but I think it’s time I got you back to your parents.”

The girl’s eyes lit up, as if she’d suddenly remembered why Clay was here at all. She nodded eagerly.

Warmth filled Clay’s chest. He reached with his middle finger to give her a gentle pat to the head. “Sit down now, just like before. I’ll take you to them.” Obediently, she did as told and returned to her previous spot. Clay pulled his hat back onto his head, then cupped his free hand next to his occupied one for extra security. “Hold on, now. This might be a bit bumpy.”

That was putting it lightly. A centaur standing up was a rocky ride. He lurched as his hooves found footing under him, making the girl yelp and grab onto his pinky. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped harder when she was suddenly lifted even higher into the air.

“It’s alright, Miss Pauline,” Clay said. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, though she kept her eyes closed.

Standing up was the rough part. Clay, like most centaurs, could keep his upper body steady through a full gallop. While walking, the worst Pauline had to endure was a little bit of easy swaying. He periodically glanced down at her as he picked his way through the forest, happy to see that most of her fear was gone. She looked around at the giant trees and bushes with a new sense of awe. From up here, things didn’t look quite so daunting. The fact that no predators could reach her provided a great deal of comfort too.

With comfort came confidence. The girl started asking questions about the forest, about Clay, about centaurs and other large creatures. Clay indulged her curiosity as best he could. Having lived with these woods his whole life, he was something of an expert. Were they not on a bit of a time constraint, he would have been happy to stop and show her some of the things he talked about, like the bright mushrooms or the abandoned bird nests.

Clay could smell the river before he could see it. He could hear it, too, as they drew closer. Over the sound of its flowing, he could hear some voices, too––human voices. Dogs barking greeted him first as the animals sensed his approach. He paid them no mind, nor the startled noises of the humans as he pushed through the trees and into the path that ran perpendicular to the river.

“Mr. Hess!” said a familiar voice. Sanouk waved to him, and he nodded in return.

“Afternoon, Miss Sanouk.” The centaur stopped a few yards away from the group of humans, both for courtesy and safety’s sake. He curled his fingers again to keep his charge secure as he once more lowered himself down to the ground. “I believe I’ve found who we were looking for.”

Sanouk eyed him curiously, then looked to his cupped hands. Her expression morphed from confused to elated. “You found her?” The rest of the group perked up at the news too.

Clay nodded and turned his attention to the girl in his hands. “Miss Pauline, these people were out here looking for you too. They’re real’ nice. I’m sure they’ve got some snacks and water they’d be happy to share with you.”

Pauline looked uncertain, but the mention of food and water brightened her mood. Clay brought his hands down to the ground and flattened his fingers. A few of the other humans cheered and whooped their joy. Sanouk looked ready to cry. She took a knee and held her arms out to the girl.

“Come here, child. Come get something to eat and drink. Your parents will be here soon.” She beckoned with her hands.

Pauline looked back to Clay, who gave her an encouraging nod, then she scampered out of his hands and ran into Sanouk’s arms. The woman embraced her tightly. She mouthed a word of thanks to Clay, then lifted the girl up and carried her to the crowd, many of whom already had water and food to offer. Clay straightened and crossed his arms, satisfied that the girl was now safe.

A few humans broke from the group to thank Clay for finding the girl. He humbly shrugged off their thanks, saying that they were all out here looking for her. Any one of them would have brought her back if they’d found her. He was just the lucky one. Still, it was nice to see that at least some of the humans were warming up to him.

Over the next half hour, the other groups filtered in. The Kellys were part of the last group to arrive. Pauline spotted her mother before either parent could receive the news. “Mama!” she yelled, startling the whole group. Both parents looked up, bewildered, to see their daughter sprinting towards them. Their knees hit the ground, arms outstretched, and cocooned the girl in a long-overdue embrace. A chorus of sniffles and relieved sighs echoed throughout the whole group. Clay looked away, not wanting to intrude on a personal moment. He was just happy to see the Kellys reunited.

After a few minutes, approaching footsteps drew the centaur’s attention back. Ears pricked, he turned his head to see O’Rourke walking his way. The old man wore a grin as wide as his face.

“I’m told you’re the one that found her.”

Clay dipped his head once. “Out in section six. Got to her just in time, too. Found her in a log with a lizard trying to get at her, the poor thing.”

O’Rourke raised a fuzzy brow. “Have any trouble catching her?”

“No, not really. I let her come to me. Figured she’d been through enough; she didn’t need me grabbing for her and scaring her more.” He lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His pinky caught on one of the braids the girl had left there. It brought a fond smile to his lips. “She okay? Didn’t look too banged up to me, but I’m no doctor. Certainly not no human doctor.”

“She’s fine,” O’Rourke said with a wave. “Better now that she’s back with her family. Thank you, Clay, for coming out today. We wouldn’t have found her without you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clay said.

“I do. Don’t be so modest. You saved that girl’s life today,” the old man insisted.

Clay was ready to retort, feeling a little indignant with his modesty being challenged, but he paused when he spotted others approaching. O’Rourke followed his gaze to the Kellys, Marty and Lana, heading over. Pauline was held in her mother’s arms, clutching a snack bar that she eagerly munched on. They stopped next to O’Rourke, who gave the father a firm pat on the shoulder before he departed.

The father spoke first. “Mr. Hess…?”

“Clay,” he corrected.

“Clay…” he repeated, clearly uneasy. “I––we wanted to thank you for finding our daughter. We knew that if we didn’t find her today, she might…” he trailed off as his voice started to shake, and swallowed thickly.

Clay shrugged humbly. “No need to thank me, Mr. Kelly. I’m just happy I could help. Happy to see her safe.”

“You saved her life,” the mother said. She looked less afraid than her spouse, like her strength and courage returned with her child. “You’ve done us a great service. How could we ever repay you?”

Clay frowned. These humans didn’t listen, did they? It must be their tiny ears. He shook his head. “I don’t need repayment. A child was lost, and I helped find her. I just did what any decent man would do.”

“But––”

He waved a hand, cutting off any rebuttal. “You wanna repay me? You take that girl home, get her cleaned up and healthy again. You take care of her and raise her well. That’s plenty reward for me.”

The parents stared up at him, clearly feeling contrary. Before they could say anything, though, Pauline started to squirm and protest the hold she was in. Once mother reluctantly set her down, the girl ran towards Clay. She beamed up at him, arms held over her head. The centaur went still, going so far as to halt his breathing.

“Clay!” the girl called, waving her hands. There was no trace of her previous fear.

Clay allowed himself a breath and a smile. “Yes, dearheart?” She pointed to his hands. Now it was his turn to be hesitant, but he did still oblige the child. He lowered a hand for her, offering her his forefinger. She latched onto it, hugging as tightly as she could. The gesture filled his hearts with a warmth he didn’t often experience.

“Now now, don’t go getting all sappy on me,” he chided gently. He couldn’t return the hug, but he could allow her to hold on for as long as she wanted. Her parents followed behind, both resting a hand on his knuckles.

“Thank you, Clay,” the father repeated.

The centaur shook his head. “It was my pleasure.”

Pauline held on for another minute before her mother coaxed her away. Clay pulled his hand back, still aware of the little warm spot where she’d held him. He gave the family a wave as they retreated back to the crowd, no doubt ready to head home and tend to their daughter.

Clay didn’t stick around much longer. There was nothing left for him to do here. The girl was safe. The family was whole. He was happy. With all humans a safe distance away, the centaur gathered himself up to his feet, tipped his hat farewell to the crowd, and turned to the forest to head home.

He could celebrate the day on his own with a bottle of his homemade cider.

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #hyena writes #hyena ocs #clayton hess #centaurs #i like this one a lot & i love my honse man

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