#The Acolyte first trailer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dearbraus · 8 months

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. ☆ ͡ ݂ The Antler Queen’s Reverie

Feat. Natalie Scatorccio

⊹ Details. 18+ only minors dni, dni if you’re not sapphic, afab reader, canon divergence, set in the wilderness at s2 finale, cheating (emotional and physical in nat and travis' relationship), discussions of cannibalism, allusion’s to cannibalism, mentions of canon character death, allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, blood consumption, biting (til it bleeds), reader is described as being able to have viable bruises, reader is described as having fingers carded in their hair, making out, scissoring, love as consumption. ⊹ Runtime. 4.5k ⊹ Note. Natalie is canonically eighteen by the season two ending and her actress is nearly twenty-three, peace and love she is above age, don’t like don’t read! If you do read I hope you enjoy <3

Travis sleeps in front of the dying hearth, warmed by the still hot embers and the feeling of a full belly. It’s pleasantly lavish, even when his back will inevitably grow frigid with goosebumps beneath the thick plaid blanket that covers him because he is assuaged. It’ll last him the next few days, perhaps even a week if he’s lucky, before they’ll have to tap into their reserves and Travis will be reminded of why his plate is filled with more than belt-soaked soup. For now, he rests easily, for the first time in the ten months they’ve been trapped. Sleep comes to him before his head even reaches the lumpy pillow that used to be Laura Lee’s– it no longer smells of the vanilla perfume she wore until the day she died, only Lottie missed the scent or even noticed.

Natalie sleeps comfortably in Dead Cabin Guy's bed, nestled behind a shoddily built pine wood door. Coach Scott has disappeared but no one voiced concern if they had any left for the man. Nat takes the opportunity to relish the modicum of privacy the room provides. If Shauna could hole herself up in the attic the moment Lottie was well enough to lay with her acolytes, then Natalie could give her body the much-needed reprieve and sleep somewhere either than the uneven floorboards of the cabin.

It’s quiet, too quiet without Van’s snoring, the crackling fire, and the sounds of creaking wood as Mari tosses and turns to get comfortable. The Wilderness was already suffocatingly silent, in the warm months it wasn’t so bad. The woods were alive, the June bugs buzzed and the trees swayed in the breeze. It was easy then to pretend the sounds of wildlife were no different from the constant thrum of the trailer park she lived in a lifetime ago. She’d learn that in the winter months, the mountains of snow that blanketed the greenery shut everything else out. They could yell but their voices would bounce back at them and be swallowed up just as quickly as it was uttered.

Natalie found herself staring up at the thick wooden slats that made up the roof, eyes heavy and wet with unshed tears. There was nothing to distract her idle mind as it replayed the events of the day. They looped in her mind like a broken VHS tape. Jackie’s necklace burned against the column of her throat but she couldn’t bring herself to take it off, it wouldn’t make her forget the feeling of a dull blade pressed against her skin by shaky hands or the way bitter wind whipped across her cheeks as she ran.

The worst part, the thing that kept her mind racing and her body unable to settle into a restful sleep was her lack of regret. Guilt didn’t eat away at her stomach the way it was supposed to. When she thought of the fear that filled Coach Ben’s eyes and how his expression crumbled when she confessed her sins to him, Natalie felt nothing. She should have felt sick, she should have been consumed with such grief that it killed her but Natalie felt nothing of the sort. The tears that sat idle in her eyes weren’t for Javi but they should have been. They were for her.

Her head snapped towards the door, the sound of the floorboards groaning under the weight of someone made her heart race more than it should. In the dim light that bled through the thin space between the door and the floor, Natalie could see a pair of feet. They hovered nervously, shuffling around without any real intention of coming in.

Natalie learned at a young age to tiptoe and glide around without making a sound. It was better to make herself invisible than to risk the wrath of her father who more often than not was in some drunken stupor. Whoever is behind the door doesn’t scuttle away as she approaches until Natalie tears the door open and a shrill gasp fills the otherwise silent cabin.

It’s you.

Your lips settle into an apologetic smile, backlit by the warm glow of the dwindling fire you look angelic. The comforting blend of oranges and yellow that danced across your skin could have made Natalie forget how terrified she was when you looked at her like a starved lion gazes upon a gazelle.

Ten months ago you and Natalie were best friends. In definition and in the eyes of the team. Natalie never had a best friend, Kevyn was the closest she’d ever come but it was different than when she was with you. Now, Natalie wasn’t sure.

That was in the before.

Before the crash, before they feasted upon human flesh, before they had become grievous creatures who ceaselessly craved.

Natalie whispers your name, her neck craning to peer over your shoulder. The group rests well. Their chests rise and fall evenly from beneath their fur pelts and moth-bitten blankets. Lottie manages a peaceful expression despite the bruises and scabs that still mar her skin.

“Is something wrong?” Natalie asks, her frostbitten hands wringing together nervously.

You avoid her inquisitive eyes, your chin bashfully pressing against your chest, “Can I come in?” You question, the tip of your worn sneakers dig into the floor as you nervously twist your foot back and forth.

She wordlessly steps back, her arm extending outward to usher you forward. The muscles in her legs ache the longer she stands and her chest still hurts but it doesn’t take all of her energy to move like it did the day before. You follow her timidly, the door clicking shut behind you.

The sparse amount of moonlight let in by the tiny window obscures your face from Natalie but she can see you holding something out to her.

“I thought you might be cold,” you whisper, it’s a blanket, the one you had brought with you from home, “Since the door was closed and there’s no fire pit in here.”

Your sincerity was startling. Natalie’s chest clenched and another round of tears threatened to spill past her eyes. She was never one to cry and never this often but she hated how small she felt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Daring to step closer, you press your blanket against Natalie’s chest, silently willing her to take it from you. She stands numb before you, her hands hung limply by her sides, “Won’t you be cold?” Her voice comes out louder than she intends for it to and she cringes at the sound.

You wordlessly shrug your shoulders. The clothing you packed wasn’t made for the Canadian winter but for the Seattle spring. The thin leggings you wore beneath your soccer shorts weren’t enough to stave off the chill, neither were the leg warmers you made out of Jackie’s shirt. You’d get sick if you went to sleep with nothing but the others body heat and hearth to keep you warm.

“I’ll be fine, I have others,” you say as you go to grab one of her hands.

Your touch burns but it’s not unpleasant. It’s the sort of simmering heat she wishes she felt when Travis took her hand in his earlier than night but, Natalie would chalk it up to being too buzzed on adrenaline to feel anything other than her heart rattling her rib cage. She expects you to shove the blanket into her outstretched fingers and scurry back to bed. You don’t leave, instead, you thread your fingers into hers. The gesture is tender, ten months ago she might have scoffed and asked if you were starting to get soft on her. Now Natalie just stared haplessly at you, torn between running away and tugging you closer.

It’d be nice to be held, sleep wasn’t coming to her. None of this felt real, her new position or their fealty towards her. Would she not be cast aside just as Lottie had should one of the others rise up as she had? When rations ran out like they always did they’d hunt again, she could just as easily become the prey once more. Her heart raced erratically at the thought but she couldn’t seek the comfort she craved from Travis, not when it was her fault that Javi was flayed to be feasted upon.

“Nat?”

Natalie blinks blankly, her focus snapping back to you, “Sorry,” she quickly muttered, grabbing the spare blanket from your hands, “Uhm, thanks for this.”

“Are you okay, Nat?”

It is a stupid question and you know it. You were not so far removed from societal convention to be deluded that placing a crown atop Natalie’s head soothed the pain that made a home in the soft spaces between her bones. No one had asked her how she felt, if she was unharmed, they were too ravenous to think of anything other than the desperate gnawing that twisted their stomachs inside out. She couldn’t blame them, the prospect of flesh ground beneath her molars had Natalie salivating.

Shrugging her shoulders, Natalie turned to her bed. It was rather small and lumpy, one of the springs poked through the surface of the mattress but it was big enough that the two of you could lay down together comfortably.

“I’m fine,” she croaks, brushing a few strands of her brittle hair away from her face, “But, do you think you could lay down with me? It’s too quiet in here, I can’t sleep.”

This was not a moment of weakness, Natalie never needed anyone before and she never would. It was simply a test, one to see just how devout Lottie’s acolytes would be to their new queen. That was how Natalie rationalized the unwanted tug of loneliness that pulled her toward you.

You appeared surprised, but you quickly masked your shock with a quick nod of your head, “Of course I can,” you smiled warmly at her like this was some sort of sleepover and not a death sentence, “Honestly I never understood how Tai and Shauna could sleep in the attic, being alone like that is … unnerving.”

Swinging her arm toward the bed, Natalie wordlessly gestures for you to slide between the sheets before she can change her mind and cast you from her space. You lay on your side with your back pressed against the wall. It’s an oddly familiar scene one that made her belly churn. If Natalie closed her eyes she could pretend that the two of you were sharing a bed at an overnight game like you had a dozen times before.

Your arm loops loosely over her stomach when she sinks into the mattress beside you, the willowy curve of her hips fits snuggly into your pelvis. She can feel your chest softly rise and fall and soon her own falls in time with it. The intimacy of it all makes her skin itch

“Travis doesn’t deserve you,” the words are whispered just as Natalie’s eyes had grown heavy with sleep, the syllables are formed against the curve of her ear. “He never has.”

Your confession is filled with irony and is beyond laughable. He had been the one to blindside the group in the hopes of giving Natalie a chance to survive while you had held the knife. First to Travis’ throat and then to hers as you joined the others in the hunt across the glacial hellscape that was the Wilderness. If there was undeserving of having her in their presence, it was you, so deceiving in your docile demeanour and soft-spoken words, ever so eager to appease whomever was in charge to cover your hide in times of stress with false loyalties.

Natalie remains silent, pretending to be lost in the throes of slumber as you continue on, “If was unfair of him to grow so angry with you for trying to spear his feelings after Javi disappeared,” you grumbled, “There is no way he should have survived for so long out there in the cold, all on his own.”

Bile lined the length of her throat, her stomach churning.

“You were only trying to help and what does he do? Turn to Lottie … I even heard him saying her name in his sleep.”

A spattering of goosebumps rises on Natalie’s skin when you nuzzle the frigid tip of your nose into her neck, your arms tightening around her middle.

Misplaced blame continued to fracture and splinter any semblance of trust that bound the group to one another. Natalie should not have felt the hot, shameful burn of envy ripple through her at her words, Travis was grieving as he continued to lose piece after piece of his soul but she did. Jealously stewed in her gut and bled out her pores.

She and Travis were tied together by the shared pain of lousy fathers. useless mothers, and circumstance. What was stopping him from moving on to Lottie, she played no part in his brother's death. He’d done it once before at doomcoming with Jackie when sex with bullies over a lifetime ago was the biggest betrayal he’d ever experienced.

“You might be right,” Natalie said with a morose laugh, “But, there aren’t many options in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

It felt good to speak of him as if he were only a warm body that kept her well satisfied in the dark of night, a quick dig to hit him where it hurt while he was sound asleep in the other room, defenceless. Turning to lay on the flat of her back, Natalie squinted to read the pensive expression you wore.

“There are far more than you think.”

“Who, you?” She joked, nervously swallowing.

You looked as serious as you did when you were studying for the SATs, biting the team's head off every time they tried to get you to take a break. Granted, Taissa was annoyed you were distracted during games and Jackie was trying to keep the peace but still, Natalie had never seen you more serious until now.

Natalie forced out a laugh as if that would diffuse the growing tension that turned the air sticky. Your gaze remained trained on her visage, your lips pressed into a thin line, “Why not,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I could treat you better than Travis could.”

Her mouth grows dry, and too many buried feelings threaten to unearth themselves at the prospect of entertaining what you are suggesting. Back home, there were rumours like in any high school that surrounded the girl's soccer team. It’s why Jackie kept getting back together with Jeff even after she swore she was finished with him. Natalie tried to suppress it, she didn’t need to give the Wiskayok high any further ammunition to torment her with but it lingered there like a dark-figured to taunt her during sleepovers with the team or when they got drunk and decided to play kissing games because it meant nothing.

Natalie never partook. She flipped them off and staggered off for a smoke in the hopes of quelling the strange feeling that compressed her chest. You always looked a bit disappointed when she refused to have “fun” with the group.

“Yeah, right,” Natalie said, her voice strained, “Your longest relationship was back in middle school and you guys lasted a week.”

“You’re being mean,” you whisper with a pout.

Natalie always knew where to hit you where it hurt most.

“And you’re being stupid.”

She tried not to look at your lips, they were inviting. Though you hadn’t said anything else, she could feel some telepathic pull toward you. She could do it, kiss you that is. They were going to die out there, any lingering tendrils of hope had long since been extinguished. There was no reason why Natalie couldn’t kiss you just this once to satiate her curiosity before you both eventually met your demise.

However, it would not have been as lovely as it would have been if Natalie let you kiss her last winter at Lottie’s eighteenth birthday party. You had been hanging off her side most of the evening after pounding back one too many shots with the birthday girl. Natalie didn’t mind babysitting you, she hadn’t been in the mood to party that night and you could at least hold your liquor well enough that she wouldn’t have to hold your hair back with you spewed chunks all over the Matthews' pristine rose printed carpet like Akilah did at the last rager.

You asked Natalie to kiss you on the back porch between puffs of the cigarette you bummed off her. She might have done it too had Laura Lee not ushered the two of you back inside, rattling on and on about how you were bound to get sick before the next game if you didn’t warm up. Natalie thought about that night a lot before burying it away lest she become haunted by it. You smelt of strawberries like you always did and she wondered if you’d taste like them too.

“What’s so stupid about having feelings for another person?” You asked as if you weren’t encroaching into dangerous territory, like Travis was nothing but a distant memory, “Or wanting to act on them so we can die with no regrets.”

There was something refreshing in knowing Natalie wasn’t alone in her line of thinking but that must have been why the two of you bonded all the way back in freshmen year.

“We’re gonna die out here and I’ve made my peace with that but I don’t want to die a virgin like some loser when I know you don’t love Travis.”

The conviction in your voice makes Natalie shrink beneath the blankets. Maybe she didn’t love Travis and maybe she had never known what love truly felt like but that didn’t mean anything. High school sweethearts were destined to crash and burn like their plane had. Natalie could only imagine what would transpire between her and Travis the longer they wrapped their veins together– nothing good, nothing good ever blossomed where Natalie was concerned.

Placing your hand on Natalie’s cheek, you turned her face toward yours, “So don’t settle because you’re afraid,” you whispered as you leaned closer, “There’s nothing out here to stop us from indulging in everything we couldn’t have out there.”

The Wilderness chose Natalie, it chose her as the next leader and now it presented you, ripe on a silver platter with skin so juicy you’d burst if she took a bite. It’d but rude to deny it now, wouldn’t it?

Your touch was gentle and surprisingly warm. It felt far better than anything she had previously experienced. Natalie felt herself being drawn closer to you, her lips just barely grazing against yours. Her breath fans across your mouth for a short second before she captures your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular or radically different from all the other times she had kissed someone but Natalie didn’t feel this odd twinge of shame after it was over like she usually did.

Her hazel eyes studied you for a moment afterward, trailing over the rounded curve your mouth sat in and the crinkle that grew between your furrowed brows. She wondered if it was disappointing, the kiss you’d spent a year waiting for. But, she wasn’t able to ruminate for too long before you were rolling on top of Natalie and cupping her face between your frost-bitten hands. The chapped, crackled skin of her lips splintered open when you nipped at her bottom lip. The heady, metallic taste of blood dabbled upon your tongue stirred a pleasured moan that travelled up your throat to spill against Natalie’s mouth. Natalie burned with mortification as she swallowed up the wanton sounds that leaked from your lips. When you licked your tongue into her mouth, she could taste it too and she liked it.

It satiated the relentless hunger that gnawed at her insides most days. Regrettably, she still felt it even after their feast hours earlier but the longer you pushed the taste of her ichor around with fevered kisses the less starved she was. Natalie knotted her hands into your hair, further tangling the dulled and dried strands as she fervently chased that pleasantly full feeling she’d never felt before. Her thighs slipped open to allow your hips to slot between them.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” you rasped into her mouth, your nose pressing against her jugular, “You’ll let me eat you, won’t you?”

The innuendo isn’t lost on Natalie and tomorrow she might have laughed, once the head-splitting need for flesh subsided. Your canines sunk into the thin skin of her throat, a dangerous gesture that sent a rush of adrenaline through her. Natalie let out a raspy moan, roughly tugging on your hair as you laved your tongue over the hot, pulsing teeth mark you left.

Shaking her head at your suggestion, Natalie muttered a quick, “No.”

Your disappointed whine was stifled by her bringing your mouth up to hers. There was something else that rattled around Natalie’s mind, the image had been seared into her head for months before she was able to banish it from the forefront. She’d seen it once whilst coming down from her high with Kevyn. One of his friends queued up some cheesy porno from the ‘80s that was just so outrageous he had to show everyone so they could all point and laugh. Natalie didn’t, she left after twenty minutes when her limbs had begun to work once more, the image of two women’s limbs tangled together replaying over and over again as she walked all the way across town to the trailer park where she lived.

Neither of you should have been stripping down but Natalie tugs off your pants to placate your impatience, intent on replicating that scene. The frigid winter air that seeps into the cabin nips at your bare skin and you shiver in her embrace. Natalie strips you until you’re left in your frayed panties and thin, long-sleeved sleep shirt. You tear her clothing off in return, carelessly throwing them aside as if body heat was enough to fend off the eternal frost the forest had been plunged into.

“Take them off,” Natalie gruffly instructs, nodding her head at you, “And then come here, I wanna try something.”

You take her instructions well and she bitterly wishes it hadn’t taken you so long to trust her instead of drinking Lottie’s Kool-aid. The mattress dips under your weight as you kneel, the palm of your hand laying flat against your navel, just itching to inch lower. Natalie’s eyes travel past your belly button to the thatch of curls that sits just below your pelvis. Biting her lip, she swallows thickly.

Her stomach roars with hunger.

Slowly dragging her underwear down her legs, Natalie rests against the headboard, her legs spread. Your eyes widen at the sight of her bare pussy, her lips slick with arousal. Looping her hands around your waist, she tugs you to straddle her lap. The position was a bit uncomfortable at first, the lingering burn and fatigue from sprinting for the first time in months making your legs heavy like lead.

A full-body shudder wracked through you as Natalie’s warm, wet cunt pressed against yours, “Like this?” You moan, experimentally rolling your hips, “This feel good?”

You asked her in earnest, peering down at her wide eyes like a puppy waiting for its owner to praise them. Mari often looked to Lottie like that, it was oddly thrilling to see it directed at her.

“Yeah, just like that,” Natalie groaned, your name ground beneath her teeth like a slab of meat, “You could even…”

Natalie’s fingers tremble when she reaches between your bodies to spread your lips apart to expose your throbbing clit. The swampy pit of heat that swirls in her gut seeps through her body, your expression is utterly debauched and dripping with lust. She moans before you do, revelling in the obscene, squelchy sound of your cunt sliding against hers. Your pebbled nipples poke painfully through your shirt and press flush to Natalie’s as you bury your face into her shoulder.

Cursing under your breath, you keen into her skin, “You can touch me more,” you pant between laboured breaths, it's laughable how easily years of condition eroded within a measly few months, “I need you to, Nat, please.”

She obliges you with teeth and tongue mashed along the column of your throat, sucking a matching bruise into your skin. You taste of salt and soot and something earthy like pine. The layer of grime that clings to your skin shouldn’t have been as intoxicating as it was but Natalie found herself feasting on the taste of you, raw and unmasked from soaps and perfumes, she suckles down until she feels the throbbing pulse of blood that fills your carotid artery.

That pleasant, warm feeling Natalie could only ever achieve on her own crept up on her. Its unbidden presence filled her with disappointment, it’d all end too soon but she couldn’t stop the wave of pleasure that washed over her. The sharp edge and press of your nails into the skin of her biceps only fuel the tumbling cascade of her orgasm as you desperately rut your cunt against hers, both of your clits bumping into each other.

Natalie’s teeth pierce the skin of your shoulder as she cums, the taste of your blood filling her senses. She grows drunk on it, mindlessly rolling her hips into your pliant body until you cry out her name, the syllables broken by yowl-like moans. Your bodies, sticky with sweat and arousal meld into one another when the familiarity of exhaustion whips through you, the kind that leaves you lying listlessly on the cabin floor for hours on end until Mari boils water and pine needles and serves it up.

Wordlessly nuzzling your face against hers, you plant a gentle peck against Natalie's hallowed cheekbone, “Natalie I-” whatever sappy sentiment that dripped off your tongue was smothered by a more pressing question, “Do you smell smoke?”

Beneath the thick layer of sex that hung in the air was the scent of burning embers. It was far heavier than the curling puff of smoke that typically permeated the stagnant cabin air. Natalie wanted nothing more than the turn over and curl up with you, to soak in the fleeting tendrils of reverie that girls like her were never affording but something itched at the back of her mind.

It was hot, suffocatingly so even with the ever-burning hearth.

The best way to kill a yellowjacket was to scorch its home, Natalie should have known it was too good to be true. The Wilderness was revoking its blessings, smoking out the vicious wasp nest that fed on its milk and honey for far too long without thanks.

Shauna’s panicked voice carried down from the attic and feet shuffled as they awoke from their full-bellied slumbered but neither of you moved. You lay half naked and needled with shock, peering at one another in the darkness when the reminder of your situation becomes glaringly obvious.

The cushy daydream of indulging your appetites where nothing but just that, a daydream. You had to run now because it was better to be starved and alive than nothing more ashes blowing in the wind.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio smut #wlw smut #x reader

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david-talks-sw · 1 month

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I got a good feeling about "The Acolyte"

Not even kidding. Like, I've spoken before about why I'm wary of it.

George Lucas' Star Wars is something that intentionally has black and white morality, rather than shades of gray. Those movies are meant for kids and projecting a "gray" morality onto them then proclaiming it was George's vision all along is doing so in bad faith.

The narrative of the Prequels doesn't frame the Prequel Jedi in as negative a light as Leslye Headland, Dave Filoni, etc etc do.

See here for more details, but bottom line: yeah, a show that has a darksider as the underdog is bound to demonize the Jedi (who are the actual underdogs in the Prequels), and obviously that rubs me the wrong way.

BUT.

The trailer looks fucking cool. It really really does.

youtube

And more importantly? I've done some research... and Leslye Headland is ticking a lot of good boxes, in my book.

1. The Acolyte won't be a 10-hour movie.

I've criticized Disney Plus shows before, explaining that a big source for most of their issues is that these series are being structured as "long movies" rather than, y'know, actual shows.

But in this interview with Collider, Headland addresses that: it'll be a series. Not a long movie that you need to watch across four weeks.

Thank God. You have no idea how much that comforts me. Finally a showrunner who's, y'know, actually running a show.

And this goes hand in hand with what she told IGN, here, about how she's going about building suspense.

Yes! Exactly! That's how it's supposed to be!

Like, compare this to Baylan Skoll's storyline in Ahsoka.

In no possible way was that emotionally-fulfilling. For 8 episodes we had no idea what he was after, and the season ended where we still don't know. What does he want? What is he after? Your guess is as good as mine, it's something Mortis-related.

So yeah. Maybe getting the Emmy-nominated trained screenwriter on board to run this was a good idea.

2. Maybe the Jedi will not be as demonized as I originally thought.

Don't get me wrong. 80% of what she says about the Jedi makes me cringe. It's the typical fan's interpretation and y'all know I disagree with that interpretation.

It's painful to see her refer to the Jedi as an institution (not how the Prequels' narrative frames them) and to see her frame "Balance" in the "oh there's so many of them and just two Sith, that means the Force is out of balance" meaning... but at least she acknowledges the Jedi are a benevolent institution.

They're not an "elitist force hiding in their ivory tower" as others have described the Jedi.

Moreover, there'll be a variety of Jedi POVs, many personalities.

Yord Fandar, is described as a strictly by-the-book Jedi Knight and guardian from the Jedi Temple, is an overachiever and a rule follower.

The question now becomes: will the narrative frame him as "your typical Jedi" or is it just this one guy? I'm hoping it's the latter.

I also like how her reasoning goes re: Jedi drawing their lightsabers.

Which explains the hand-to-hand combat seen in the trailer.

This teenager is coming at Carrie-Ann Moss with a dagger, of course the Jedi won't draw her saber.

3. She's a fan of Star Wars... but a screenwriter first.

You can tell in the interviews she's a fan. She's using words like "BBY" and "EU" casually. In the above-linked interviews she's bringing up the Nightsisters, Timothy Zahn, The Clone Wars, she mentions she has a tattoo of Ralph McQuarrie's concept art of Leia, the High Republic books, etc.

She's done her homework. She's a fan.

But the vibe I'm getting from these interviews is that she's weaving in these various lore-elements in a more organic way, rather than in the "fan-servicey" way Dave Filoni has been doing in his shows.

The references and Easter Eggs will be there, but the narrative won't bend over itself just so you can get it. Crafting a good story comes first, and Andor is a beautiful illustration of why this is true.

Which is why I was never bothered about one of the writers never having watched Star Wars before getting the job. You need those fresh eyes when you're tackling something of this scale.

That makes sense to me. Maybe it's because of my own screenwriting experience, but yeah. That out-of-the box perspective is precious.

And like, obviously, that writer watched the films eventually, but for some reason everyone who bitched about Headland omitted that detail and opted for a more bad faith interpretation.

Hm. Wonder why.

Maybe it's the same reason that months ago this clipped audio circulated socials without context, in which she debates whether Star Wars only came from George Lucas and only Lucas is the key.

The FULL context of that interview reveals that she's actually:

debating the "autheur director" myth and positing that it was achieved by a collective of excellent filmmakers and craftspeople that George was skilled and smart enough to recruit...

the studios now think it's a simple as hiring one guy and throwing money at him, because they have no idea what the fuck they're talking about. See Napoleon (2023) for example.

Yes, she also does a jab to the Prequels, which speaks to the generation of fans she's a part of... but overall she's giving Lucas props whilst also stating an ideological difference, that's it!

George is a proponent of the "autheur" theory, Leslye isn't.

However, guess what, in like half the talks George gave post-selling Star Wars? He's giving shoutouts to everyone who helped make the first film, even remembering their names.

So I'm not even sure he'd vehemently disagree with Leslye, in fact they'd prolly have a conversation about it and immediately bitch about how stupid studio executives are :D

But that's not as incendiary, is it? Again, the more I do the research, the more it feels like the reason most of these influencers are hating on her is purely sexist.

I mean, on IGN she's even acknowledging that she does plan on taking stock of fan reactions for Season 2.

It's not a guarantee that she'll incorporate the feedback, but at least that's more consideration than, say, JJ Abrams or Rian Johnson gave the fandom.

She's even bringing the moral ambiguity that the Gray Jedi-loving edge-lords love so much.

"No, she's a woke feminist! Anything she does is evil! Eww, girls!"

🙄

Needless to say... I'm gonna give it a shot.

I think it's gonna be a good show, I think it's gonna be a solid story.

I'm crossing my fingers that they won't as biased against the Jedi as it seems they'll be. Even if they are... if it's still an enjoyable experience, I'll gloss over it.

As @gffa states in this post:

Worst case? It's not a story from George. I can dismiss it from my headcanon without a moment's hesitation :D

#the acolyte #jedi order #star wars #leslye headland #george lucas #Youtube #discussion

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tiefighters · 1 month

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youtube

The Acolyte - Trailer

In an age of light, a darkness rises.

The first two episodes premiere on June 4, 2024.

#The Acolyte #Acolyte #star wars #disney+#trailers #Youtube

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antianakin · 1 month

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I just found out the first trailer for The Acolyte is coming tomorrow. Be prepared for a new wave of anti-Jediism within the fandom from this trailer, and the show itself.

Oh believe me, I've been prepared for anti-Jedi bullshit from this show for MONTHS now. Being prepared for anti-Jedi bullshit from this show is what got me kicked out of a discord server I was in lol.

I'm boycotting this show, I refuse to watch any of it. There isn't a single part of this show that looks appealing or worth slogging through the anti-Jedi message we KNOW it's going to have. I have negative interest in more Sith stories and I've started getting disappointed with the High Republic anyway, so the only thing left of any interest in this show is the cast and like. It's not enough. This show is not for me, so for my own mental health, I am choosing not to engage with it as much as physically possible.

#star wars #anti acolyte #anti the acolyte #the acolyte negativity #jedi #pro jedi

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just-a-new-gi-writer · 1 year

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I came from the 100/200 Followers Event...

So, I was watching some Genshin AMV/GMV/MAD (however you may called it) and I got an idea...

What do you think about the reader showing the Acolytes GMVs or maybe some of the trailers? I especially would like to know the Archons reactions towards this video. Although it can be any videos and acolytes of your liking...

Thank you for reading this! I hope you have a good day!✨

A/N: I'm getting around to these things, I swear!

Word count: 2068

CW: depictions of trauma

Masterpost

taglist: @iyohme (Am I tagging the right person? Do you still want to be tagged? Please let me know.)

Zhongli had never been all that curious of an individual. He was more than happy to let certain curious things be than question their behavior or state. Entanglements like that usually got in the way of him leading his nation in the past and were sometimes no more than ploys by Venti to get his attention away from the Creator. Given that, he felt more comfortable pondering the curiosity you seemed to vest so much time into both when the acolytes were around and away, since it was no ploy by that Anemo Archon.

The first time he saw it, he was astounded at what it was- a handle-less rectangular hand mirror, the glass tinted so dark as to make its usage unfeasible. He wondered if Their Grace were checking Themself, ensuring everything was in place, but that wouldn’t explain the later times where they seemed to longingly gaze into its surface. It was quite a while later that he was able to see Them using it from a different angle- he had been chosen to provide the afternoon tea and managed to catch a glimpse of Them peering at Themselves- or so he had thought.

The surface of that curious item was shining brilliantly, like it were a star in the palm of Their hand, like it were a powerful scrying glass viewing into another world. He was almost able to catch a glimpse into what Their Grace was watching, but the illusion flickered away before he could recognize anything. Their Grace turned to face him, and he made a bit of light talk to get Their mind off the possibility that he were looking over Their shoulder.

In the days since, he’d idly considered the hand mirror in the quieter moments of the day, wondering what The Arbiter saw in it and why it drew Their attention so much. He could reach no concrete conclusion but figured that he wasn’t the only one to ponder this curiosity. Their Grace was soon to travel to Inazuma and he had the fortune to be Their attendant- though it wasn’t to his total pleasure, as he would have to deal with the drunkard bard not only vying for Their attention but causing general mayhem in Inazuma. A nuisance, to be sure.

And a nuisance he was, at least for a short while. The Raiden Shogun had graciously decided to have a few guards keep an eye on him when he was otherwise unsupervised. The disturbances in the city had mysteriously and suddenly declined, for some inexplicable reason.

Zhongli had pulled the Shogun aside one day, when both Their Grace and Venti were preoccupied with each other, and asked her if she knew anything about The Organizer’s strange hand mirror.

She considered the question. “…No,” she replied after thorough consideration, “I haven’t the slightest idea what it could be. I considered it to be one of those Kameras smuggled in from Fontaine for a while. I had wondered why the model was so small and thin until one of my handmaidens pointed out that the devices are still quite large and bulky. Unless Our Eternity is an inventor or tinkerer Themselves, I doubt they would have the interest in that sort of activity.”

“I considered it a strange looking glass, but its shape and size are… not standard. Not to mention that its surface is tinted…”

“A curiosity indeed.”

“I suppose there is one way to get an answer.” Zhongli led the way back to where the Creator and Venti were, finding the latter searching through his luggage and the former, luckily, pulling out the strange device. They were about to activate it when They noticed the two Archons’ arrival.

They gave a wonderfully warm smile. “Zhongli! Ei! Perfect timing. I wanted to show you three something, now that you’re all three in the same place.”

Zhongli was caught off guard. “–Oh?”

“Yes! Come on,” they patted the seats beside Themself, “I think you’ll love this!” They suddenly seemed to have second thoughts. “Well…”

“There’s no need to doubt Yourself, Orator of Order.” Zhongli took his seat to Their left. “I’m sure we’ll be delighted by whatever Your gift is.”

“Well, i-it’s not really a gift…”

“As Morax says,” Ei elegantly lowered herself down onto the cushion to Their right, “we will be pleased, whatever it will be, whatever form it shall take.”

“Then…”

“Besides!” Venti cut in from the other side of the room, before running straight at Their Grace and vaulting over the table, landing squarely on Their lap. “We won’t turn down an opportunity to spend time with you! Right?” He glanced at the two Archons around him before his face paled two shades whiter. “…R-Right?”

The Archons seated beside you glared down in distaste at the diminutive wind spirit in Their lap, making their displeasure towards his little stunt well known. Zhongli got his steel grip on the bard’s sleeve before They could intervene- “Anyway!” Snapping the strange hand mirror to attention and flicking it on, They stole the Archons’ attention, “Shall we? I think you’ll like the GMV!”

“‘GMV’?” Zhongli raised an eyebrow, “What do those letters–”

“Here we are!” A few taps and swipes upon its surface, and the shining mirror glowed. Faster than he could recognize anything the images on its surface seemed to blur past as They worked the strange device. The screen only showed a black field with a few blue speckles, overlaid with a white triangle. “Let’s begin!” One last tap, and the image began to change.

It took a few seconds for Zhongli to realize the hand mirror was emitting a song. By the time the thought registered, Venti had seen the screen advance- and reacted to what he saw by covering it entirely.

“Whoawhoawhoa, how’d you find–”

“Venti,” Their Grace pulled his hands away, “stop blocking the screen!”

Between the bard’s fingers, Zhongli made out an image of the bard, scantily dressed in a white cloth, before switching to one of Zhongli in one of his younger forms, then to one of Ei. For a moment, he wondered how depictions of each Archon had ended upon the strange device of Theirs, especially ones so antiquated and stylized, but dismissed the question- of course the Creator could access those snippets of history.

As the song began in earnest, Zhongli recognized the lyrics to be in Old Liyuean- a dialect a few centuries past. His skills in it were rusty from disuse, but he could still make out the words. He found it curious how the song seemed to be speaking to the three Archons- commiserating with Venti, then Zhongli, then Ei in turn.

As the song continued, extolling Venti’s virtues and goals, Zhongli grabbed the kettle and poured himself some tea. He was still listening to the song, to be sure, but he knew the bard did not need any further help creating more stories for himself. Furthermore, Venti would be the one Archon who already knows about any pieces of history regarding himself.

He brought his cup up during a brief break in the song, where a woman delivered a line, and afterward barely kept himself from dropping the cup in shock.

<Morax,> the deep, familiar voice of Azdaha rumbled, <if it is fated, we will meet again.>

Zhongli choked on his tea, the cup almost falling from his hands and clattering to the table. How? How was he hearing this? How did Their Grace know about his promise and place it here? How did it get replicated so perfectly? How was it playing here and now?

And… why?

His disbelief lingered through the next piece of the song. Something about Venti and his dragon, something about Ei losing her companions. He could barely register the images and lines about him through the shock, of how one’s old comrades can only be found in memories.

The next lines brought him back to reality. “Love you, who sculpts spears to subdue the raging ocean/ Love you, who wanders the land with adepti at your side.” Thanks, adorations… given by the Creator to him? “Love your thousand years of vigilance/ Over your corner of the world.” Complicated emotions bloomed in Zhongli’s chest. The Creator praising him? Why, over those things he had done so long ago, and especially during those times where he doubted The Forge’s creation and The Shaper’s ways?

“Mourn those who change form to voice their sorrows,” the song continued, “Mourn those who are forgotten by mortals”. Zhongli knew these commands all too well personally- to see the world leave behind those he knew, to see them fall into the waste bin of history and hear their names turn from fond remembrance to distant memories to myths and lore, the people wholly disconnected and scarcely believing the original person’s existence. How much longer would Liyue, and Teyvat beyond, remember him? How much longer would the Creator?

“Mourn the memory of dust and the fragrance of flowers,” the song drove the questions further into the parts of his heart that he thought had long hardened.

“Where are those old friends now?”

‘Only in memories,’ he knew; only in the fading ink of dusty tomes; only in scattered poems, unrecited for the shame.

“Will you go? Are you worthy?” Zhongli subconsciously eased the grip on his cup. Was he worthy? Should he have gone with those who had gone ahead? All the sudden, this one song, this one question, had shaken centuries, if not millennia of acceptance of his situation- so, so many of his peers he had been left behind.

Was he wrong? Was Their Grace judging him?

“But we will fight,” the song moved on, bringing Zhongli with it, “We will/ For the prosperous dreams/ For the old friends and enemies of the last thousand years.” He felt a small spark settle within himself, something of hope. Was Their Grace speaking well of him? Were They now trying to rally his spirit and will? Were they–

“Returning to old haunts to lament the taste of wine.”

He blinked a few times as the line seemingly struck him across the face. Did it–? Why did it–? Why stop and take the time to–?

He brought a hand to his face, now seemingly able to see the situation anew. This song was not an admonition of him and his actions (how could he ever have come to that conclusion?!), it was a celebration of each of the Archon’s lives and legacies, of their achievements and tribulations. Their Grace wanted to share that They were there, with and watching over them all this time.

The song turned to Ei, talking about her history and actions. Zhongli could not help but smile. This whole time, the answer had been staring him in the face, how could he have been so blind to miss it? Maybe he had been letting himself get too lost inside of his own thoughts.

The last notes of the song faded out, Venti spun around to adulate the Creator. “That was amazing! I… didn’t understand it at all, but the photographs were beautiful! How did You capture those scenes? Did you take them Yourself?”

“N-no, I didn’t, I just–”

“I thought it was pleasant, Your Eternity,” Ei cut in, “I was not much interested in it to begin with, but I found myself warming up to it as it went on.”

Venti scoffed. “You were just interested in the stuff that dealt with you.”

“I would say that the parts pertaining to my nation and me would be more captivating than the idle goings-on of Mondstadt.”

“At least I don’t start civil–”

“Zhongli!” You clamped a hand over Venti’s mouth, “what did you think? Please tell me you have something to– Er, Zhongli?”

“It was beautiful,” he smiled and raised his cup, “truly, a tour de force of the gathered Archons and their lives. I don’t think I could cover the span of my thoughts on the matter in a full hour.”

Venti pushed your hand from his mouth. “Not that you need a reason to talk on and on…”

“Oh, should I, dear bard? You yourself love a good story, do you not?”

“Don’t get me started…”

Thousands of miles away, a lonely girl sat in her room, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“…Why,” Nahida mumbled to herself, “do I feel left out of something?”

#poor nahida #I don't think she was released before this ask was submitted #sorry #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact #genshin cult au #yandere genshin impact #ask response

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echoequinox · 11 months

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More Zelda Theories, about the Depths and the Statues!

BIG SPOILERS. DO NOT READ AHEAD UNLESS YOU HAVE GOTTEN THE MISSION "DEFEAT GANONDORF". FOR REAL, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

That said, this is a lot of theories about the Depths and more specifically the Bargainers, who seem to be a very prominent and important figure in this game, almost like the Zonai were in Breath of the Wild!

We'll start with anatomy, because there's a lot of interesting things to go off of there. As far as we can tell, the statues in the Depths of Zora, Rito, etc. are mostly unexaggerated and straightforward representations of the races they portray. But the Bargainer statues are...

Let's just say they're big.

They are confirmed specifically to be Bargainers by the map marker, namely the one of this picture: the Bargainer Cliff Statue. This implies that it is, in fact, a representation of the group.

Some other interesting things about the anatomy you can somewhat see here: no discernible feet (potentially wearing shoes or armor) and hands that each end in three blunt fingers.

The other interesting part that we can see is their face.

(Also this is a partial view of their upper half as well, which seems to be particularly hard to photograph)

Their head appears to be conical in shape with four eyes that feature prominently, especially due to the first real mission where you speak to the Bargainers and must throw their eyes into the chasms. (Also notable are their streak-like markings beneath the eyes, almost like Tears)

My two primary theories on the face is that it is either 1. A mask of some kind, with the eyes as a recurring motif and possibly some sort of symbolism, or 2. The Bargainers are constructs HEAR ME OUT

Evidence of it being a mask comes from the Hood of the Depths from the outfit you get from the Bargainers. It is shaped very similar to the head of the Bargainer statues, but the face is instead shrouded, the hood obscuring only one eye, and the rest of the face covered in the same wraps that cover Link's arms and legs.

It is POSSIBLE that the Bargainers themselves have four eyes, and using this hood structure only reveal one at a time, perhaps to keep other races from becoming unsettled, or maybe some sort of ceremonial reason. It is also possible that this is a lesser Bargainer outfit, and the ones the statues are built from have the four-eyed masks, and the statues are proof of reverence of those greater Bargainers.

Either suggests that the Bargainers are humanlike in nature, potentially a culture of their own similar to how the Sheikah are technically of the Hylian race (as seen in parentheses in the Character Dossier in ToTK).

It's also possible that they were a subculture of the Zonai, and Link's difference in outfit is due to it being an acolyte outfit rather than the outfit of a true Bargainer. It isn't, after all, called the Bargainer set, but the Depths set. It's possible that Hylians who worshipped the Zonai - and specifically the Bargainers - as gods wore these as some form of worship or ceremony.

My other theory, I personally think, holds less water, but it is interesting to pursue. Below is a spoiler for the Spirit Temple and the lead-up to it.

This is Mineru's construct body after she's resurrected by Link. There are a couple notable things here that do, in fact, relate to the Bargainers.

First, the fact that the Construct Factory is in the Depths at all, which is an area seemingly mostly kept up by Bargainers in general. Second, the anatomy does admittedly seem to line up. Longer arms that reach the knees, the shape of the legs, the codpiece and the strange segmentation of the arms, which do end in three nubby fingers. Additionally, the "head" of Mineru's construct is an owl-styled mask similar to the one we see Rauru wearing around his neck, or on his face in the trailer.

The more I look at Mineru's construct, the more I begin to think that the statues are built after them, but story-wise, it has a lot of holes. It would imply that the Bargainers are, perhaps, sentient constructs. Would they be allowed free reign of the Depths? Allowed to create statues of themselves, in some form of robotic reverence?

The alternative is that they are, in fact, possessed constructs, similar to Mineru's. Interestingly, it does start to line up when you put it in that light. While the Bargainers have you collect Poes in the underground, they don't look like Poes from any of the previous Zelda games. Instead they look like Spirits, specifically those from Twilight Princess. They're said to be the souls of those who haven't yet moved on to the afterlife, and the Bargainers are able to shuffle them on their way.

Mineru, the Sage of Spirit, would be uniquely qualified to have followers who relate to spirits and souls. Putting their bodies into constructs as well wouldn't have been a huge challenge and - in fact - if the process was willing and not one of necessity, it would make sense that they would build statues of their new, superior forms.

Moving on from anatomy, we can briefly cover the abilities the Bargainer Statues seem to have.

The Bargainers are able to speak to Link in the same way many other creatures are: the Koroks, the Goddess Statues, the Horned Statue, etc. They are also able to not only take the souls that Link collects and move them to the afterlife, but compensate him for doing so. They can produce things like Dark Clumps or outfits designed to plumb the Depths. They're also able to reach out and find their "brethren" for Link to seek out and speak to. The more of them Link finds, the more they're able to work together and create better armor and gear for him.

The one on the Great Plateau says he "inhabits" the Goddess Statue to speak to Link. It feels almost as if the Bargainers are spirits themselves, able to possess objects, which is in line with the possessed construct theory.

There are two other interesting notes to leave this on, as I don't really have a conclusion for my theory at the moment. The first is about resources. Zonaite is found most prominently in the Depths, although some is found on sky islands as well. It's possible (or even probable) that the sky islands were ripped from the surface of Hyrule, or even below it, and that's why it's available on them. But Zonaite being found deep underground, and yet powering all of Zonai tech such as the Zonai Charges.

The other is about the name itself: Bargainers. Searching through the Zelda wiki for other instances of the word "bargain", only one primary entry comes up: The Statue's Bargain. This is the quest in Breath of the Wild in which you find and bargain with the Horned Statue. A dealer of life and wealth. A Bargainer, if you will.

It's possible that their powers originated not from a secret stone, like Mineru and her Spirit Sage powers, but instead from a god. Whereas Hyrulians worship Hylia and her encompassing light, it's possible that these Bargainers - maybe even the larger Zonai culture - instead worshipped Her opposite. Deep beneath the ground, away from sunlight and prying eyes, perhaps they did dealings with this strange, bargainer god. Wealth for life. Perhaps trading away your last heart for money, allowing the god to take all of your soul, would trap it permanently, forever adrift beneath Hyrule, as a Poe.

Maybe the Bargainers themselves are trying to atone for what they did, the lengths they went for riches and power, and what it took to become the monolithic figures they revered in statue form. Hylia, as we know, saw the dark god and trapped him forever within a statue. Perhaps his followers were not so different...

Edit: I absolutely forgot the fact that the Construct Factory steward mentions getting receipts and orders from Dragonhead Island, implying more than one construct needs to be built (which, I mean, they're factories and depots so of course). We see Mineru's earlier design in the Spirit Temple, and one hijacked by Kohga at the end of his storyline, so we know that there were at least several in circulation, but it makes sense that if the Bargainers were a race that inhabited construct bodies similar to Mineru, that it would be mass-produced like that.

#i like ending posts on a dramatic note #anyway sorry this is a full ass thesis essay #i have a lot of feelings about them! a lot of theories and questions!#tears of the kingdom #totk #tears of the kingdom spoilers #totk spoilers #the legend of zelda #tloz #zelda bargainers #theory #totk theories

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sperastella · 2 years

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Summary of D23 Star Wars News

What was announced/shown:

Andor - New/Final Trailer

THE BAD BATCH Season 2 premieres on January 4

Tales of the Jedi - 6 episodes drop on October 26th. Three episodes follow Ahsoka. 3 follow Dooku.

Ahsoka - First still image of Sabine

Skeleton Crew - Filming has wrapped. No release window yet though.

Mandalorian Season 3 - New teaser trailer

What was not announced or shown:

Ahsoka casting or the footage shown at Celebration

Anything about The Acolyte

Nothing on possible speculation about Obi-Wan Kenobi Season 2 or Book of Boba Fett Season 2.

Anything movie/film related

#star wars #d23 #andor series #the bad batch #tales of the jedi #ahsoka #skeleton crew #the mandalorian #the acolyte #obi wan kenobi series #kenobi series #the book of boba fett #disney

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mariacallous · 1 year

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In 2010, Indian actor Shah Rukh Khan starred in a film called My Name Is Khan that served as a critique of Islamophobia in the United States in the post-9/11 era. In the movie, Khan goes on a journey to the United States to meet the American president and tell him that having an Islamic last name doesn’t make him a terrorist. In real life, however, his name has made him a target at home.

A year after Narendra Modi became India’s prime minister in 2014, Khan said there was a climate of intolerance in the country that “will take us to the dark ages.” Two days later, a senior leader of the governing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and an acolyte of Modi, Yogi Adityanath, said Khan spoke the language of terrorists and equated him to the mastermind of the 2008 Mumbai terrorism attacks. Adityanath threatened Khan, saying he would be out of business if a “huge mass” of Indians, implying Hindus, boycotted his films. Since then, fringe political outfits linked to the BJP—and even some BJP leaders—have repeatedly attacked Khan.

The latest attack began when the trailer of Khan’s latest film, Pathaan, was released last month. Hindu nationalists of the BJP and those linked to the party expressed three major objections. First, that actress Deepika Padukone should not have worn a saffron-hued bikini in a song titled “Besharam Rang” because saffron is a sacred color in Hinduism. Second, the bikini was a few centimeters too revealing to be approved by the far right’s cultural police. And third, and more tellingly perhaps, they slandered Khan for his fitness, questioning whether the 57-year-old’s chiseled “six-pack” abdomen could possibly be real.

The charges were ludicrous. Bollywood actresses have worn saffron in sensuous songs before, but it’s never been so controversial. Moreover, Padukone wore a green skirt and several other colors in the song. The attack didn’t make sense, but it was nonetheless vicious. One protester on air, who was later revealed to be an actor himself, dared Khan to dress his daughter in a green bikini instead of Padukone, a Hindu actress. Green is a sacred color in Islam, and Khan’s wife is also Hindu.

“Had Deepika worn a saffron bikini opposite a Hindu actor, there would have been no controversy,” Hartosh Singh Bal, political editor of the Caravan, told Foreign Policy from Delhi in a phone interview. “It is all because [Khan] is a Muslim.” Several male Indian actors have flaunted abs before, and rare have they met with such ridicule.

Many people believe that the insidious campaign to discredit Khan emerges out of Hindu nationalists’ broader effort to humiliate minorities into accepting their secondary status in a country they want to claim for themselves. There have been frequent calls by the BJP to turn India into a theocratic state—a Hindu rashtra or a country predominantly of and for Hindus. As part of that bid, they hope to control Bollywood itself, the country’s biggest cultural force and its most effective messenger.

After #BoycottPathaan trended on Twitter, #BoycottBollywood soon followed. There were several well-crafted tweets, as if coordinated with one another, calling on directors to change their scripts and fall in line—or risk a total boycott. But this was not the first time Bollywood came under attack. Scholars who studied the trend between August 1 and September 12 discovered thousands of ghost accounts created over these months that solely tweeted with the hashtag #BoycottBollywood. More than 300 accounts each tweeted over 1,000 tweets on Bollywood over that nearly month and a half, “suggesting organized behavior,” said Joyojeet Pal, an assistant professor at the University of Michigan who conducted the study. Junior politicians of the BJP and of its affiliates were also discovered to be pushing the content.

Outrage on social media was to a large extent manufactured, but it is hard to say how many Indians genuinely approved of the sentiment. An investigation by news website the Wire revealed that many of the news stories that defamed Khan and called for Pathaan’s boycott reflected the views of political partisans rather than genuine protesters. Meanwhile, Pathaan has enjoyed enormous ticket sales, a resounding rejection of the calls to boycott Khan’s movies and Bollywood more generally.

Fans thronged cinemas in cities across India and at screenings abroad to see Khan return to the screen after a four-year hiatus. The controversies instigated around him—including outright falsehoods about how he had supposedly donated millions of dollars to Pakistan and was caught spitting at the funeral of Indian singer Lata Mangeshkar—did little to dampen public enthusiasm for his movie.

As Khan hopped between buildings, dived off planes, and walked on the facade of a skyscraper, all to save India from a terrorist attack, Indians across faiths seemed proud that Bollywood could also produce its own version of Mission Impossible and were eager to applaud Khan’s reinvention from romantic heartthrob to action hero. Even Indians abroad, who are arguably among the biggest believers in Hindu nationalism, rushed to screenings in the United Arab Emirates, the United States, the United Kingdom, and Germany. The movie has reportedly smashed box office records in India, and in the first 16 days since its release, it earned nearly $10 million.

Meera Rizvi, a professional scriptwriter whose maternal ancestors were ethnic Pashtuns like Khan’s, said she had little interest in watching the movie but attended a screening as an act of resistance to bullying from Hindu nationalists. “Bullies have been empowered by the right-wing government, and they think they can do whatever they want,” Rizvi said. “I went to see the movie to stand up against the bullying Khan has been subjected to.” Many others said they believed it was all a useless controversy. Anju Dhawan, an interior designer, said she didn’t understand why there was controversy at all. “Shah Rukh is an actor. Hindu, Muslim has nothing to do with it,” she told Foreign Policy from Karnal, India.

The crowds, however, did not indicate a rejection of political polarization. At least two highly educated professionals FP spoke to believe in Hindu nationalist propaganda, making unsubstantiated allegations against Khan. Political analysts told FP that Pathaan’s success did not indicate a change of mood in a nation still in thrall of Modi and the BJP’s broader political agenda. “It showed that Hindu nationalists still do not have the ability to wipe out the appeal of a celebrity who is a Muslim, just like Indians would cheer a Muslim cricketer,” Bal said. “It didn’t mean the mood of the country has gone a certain way.”

Last week, Indian press reported that Modi called on his ministers to refrain from making unnecessary comments that overshadow the government’s developmental work. But that message has come far too late to rein in the mob, said filmmaker Anurag Kashyap. “It was about controlling their own people. Things have gone out of hand now,” Kashyap said. “When you stay silent, you empower prejudice and you empower hatred. It has now got so much empowered that it is a power in itself. The mob is out of control now.”

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