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canonicallysoulmates · 3 years

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The podcast thing premiered and while I have zero interest in it Jared and Jensen are in the first two episodes so I sat down and listened to them and now I’m gonna give y’all a speedrun of what was said so you don’t have to- unless you want to then do whatever the fuck you want.

This post contains both episodes the boys are in thus it got really long so I will be putting the contents of the second ep under a read more.

The first episode is about the Pilot- sort of the first half is more about the casting process the boys went through but we’ll get into that; I absolutely hate the music in this, you know how music can influence your emotions? There’s sounds that make you happy, sounds that make you sad, the music in this makes me angry. My brain no likey.

From here on Rob Benedict will appear as RB and Richard Speight Jr. as RS. This is just for convenience sake.

RB and RS do get some things right at the beginning: j2 are the leads of the show, the core of the show is the brother’s relationship, and without the two of them there would be no show.

They do a quick recap of the episode.

RB reveals that he has never seen the Pilot before, he watched it for the first time a couple days prior to recording this. *internally screams* 🙃

Moving on, Jared remembers the casting and the filming for the Pilot pretty clearly. He thinks it's because shooting the Pilot was like a movie. They had months to get used to the script and get to know their characters when they did the Pilot.

Jared compared their audition more to a meeting because he and Jensen already had a relationship with WB, they had both done work for them at the time. He also remembers how since there was no SM they would be swapped for radio press tours meaning if Jensen did a press tour then the next time it would be his turn and vice versa. So they’d have to wake up at like 2:45am in Van to be on the phone call at 3 to do an interview that would air at 6 in the east coast and they’d do like 4 hours worth of radio interviews before going to set to film.

They both remember meeting each other. They didn’t have a traditional chemistry read, the network studio test acted as their chemistry read.

They both knew David Nutter, and Kripke prior to the audition. Jared had met Nutter when he was a guest star on an episode of ER that Nutter directed and Kripke he met independently. Jensen knew Nutter from Smallville because he had directed the Pilot for that show.

Jensen tells how when he read for David and Kripke at Wonderland, he read for Sam originally and then asked if he could read for Dean. They looked at each other, shared a laugh and told him he didn’t have to, the first time Jensen read for Dean was at the ranch when he met Jared.

Jared had a holding deal with WB when he originally read for Sam, which meant he couldn’t audition for any other network. Kripke thought he was great but they were looking for a smart Duchovny type and he didn’t think Jared fit the bill so, Spilo, Jared’s manager, told him how smart Jared actually is and about his academic achievements.

When it comes to the chemistry with Jensen, Jared says he felt it kinda instantly. He remembers his and Jensen’s first convo in detail, and it’s actually kind of cute to hear him describe how it went because he describes how Jensen went slowly softening up as their conversation progressed.

Jensen used to be a little shit, he shares that back in the day when he would be in the audition waiting rooms he would start making small talk with the people that seemed the most nervous- those that were pacing, sitting in their chairs rocking a little bit, reading their lines over and over again. He’s not sure if he did it just to eliminate the tension in the room or if he was just messing with them doing it to knock them off their game but he liked popping that little bubble of focus 😂

And then RB asks if he thinks that’s what he was doing to Jared in that moment when he initiated conversation with him in the audition waiting room, Jensen he says no because they weren't going against each other. And then Jared mentions how even to this day once you’re about to test for a studio network you've signed a 6yr contract so if you go to the waiting room and they say they’ll take you that’s the next 6 years of your life, so you want to get to know the person you may be spending the next 6 years with; he also makes a comparison to marriage and how it’s like if you have 10 minutes before having to get married to this person you wanna ask the important stuff like where they’re from and the family history.

We have reached the around halfway mark into the podcast and you know it’s halfway because of the annoying loud music that slightly overlaps with the talking for no real reason. This is where we would usually hear sponsors but they don’t have any so it’s just this pointless addition.

Asked if they felt they had something at the time when they finished shooting the Pilot. Jared says that Peter Roth who was running WB studios at the time believed in the show and believed in him and Jensen, and Jared hadn’t realized how much he believed in them until after the fact. Because at the time they were hiring big names and really talented people, and spending a ton of money doing long days, their cinematographer had won an Oscar for a short film he had directed so they were surrounded by people that had either been working for years and/or were outrageously talented so he knew they had made a great product but the industry is intense you don’t really know what’s going to happen. He knows he has a job after getting a check in the mail after having filmed it; mentions how he had done a few Pilots prior to spn and how Jensen even did a show where he shot 7 eps only for FOX to shelve it after putting 15million dollars into it.

They start mentioning shows that came out in the 2004-2006 era and RB mentions a show he was in called Threshold, mistake on his part because they start ribbing him about it which was actually pretty funny especially since he actually sounded flustered.

RS says visually the Pilot is more lit like a horror movie, it's darker. Jared says that was the initial idea but that’s unsustainable; they would have 3 hour lighting set ups sometimes. In the time that it took to shoot the Pilot they could have shot 2 episodes.

When they shot the Pilot how much did they think about what their characters situation was in terms of like the scene where Dean says “Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days” and did they think about what their life was cause Dean essentially didn’t have a home? Jensen ties it in to the question of when they knew that they had something that could be a success, and says that he thinks it was the day they shot that particular scene of Dean saying “Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days” which is also when they shot the fight scene between the brothers in Sam’s apartment, and also matching that with when he saw the playback of him kicking the door in when Jess is on fire and Dean goes back for Sam, he remembers seeing the shot and thinking ‘that’s some heroic shit’ and thinking they could get 3 or 4 seasons out of the show. Also, the same day they shot that fight scene they went outside that night to shoot the final scene of the episode.

Jared shares how the end sequence of the Pilot was multi part, so they shot Dean kicking in the door, Sam getting cookies and laying on the bed, seeing Jess’s body on location at USC. Then in a studio they shot the wide angle Nutter wanted of Sam on the bed with the room on fire with live fire; they filmed that part, Sam on the bed with the fire all around him and Dean running in and grabbing him with actual fire, there was even a whole fire department on the sidelines. Safety people told him that as soon as he got warm to run, and Jensen remembers there was a take where Jared was really emotional and he was fighting so hard against him, and Jensen started to feel warm and instead of him going ‘we gotta go!’ he said ‘i’m getting hot we gotta go!’ 😂

Neither of them were around when they shot Jess and Mary on the ceiling so they don’t know how that was filmed. They met Sam Smith and JDM the day the scene where Mary burns up was filmed.

Everyday was a big day, and there were a lot of long days. Jared remembers Jensen telling him about Ray LaMontagne's debut album, and he got the CD (which is freaking adorable that he would go get a CD just because Jensen told him about it) and he thinks he managed to go through the entire album in the time it took him to drive from his house in North Hollywood to the set. And there was one day when they didn’t shoot anything after lunch; it’s when Sam pulls up and the woman in white appears and you see the inside of the house, after lunch they start setting something up, 6 hours later it still isn’t finished so the boys got sent home.

Kripke never gave them info about what was going to happen, the boys were along for the ride just like everyone else only finding things out as they got their scripts. And that model never really changed, there were a few episodes like French Mistake where they got called up and asked how they felt about it, but for the most part they would find things out as they got scripts; and Kripke didn’t share what he was planning with anybody.

To wrap it up, do they remember the moment they saw the Impala and thought it was a cool car? Jensen remembers reading it in the script, it was talking about a classic car and he thought it was going to be something like a Mustang or a Challenger so the Impala was kind of left field in the best way possible.

Jared recalls how in one of the first conversations he had with Kripke he asked him if he had read Joseph Cambell and Jared replied that he had because his mom taught Heroes, Myths and Legends in High School and was an English Major, and his family is big on reading so he was familiar with the archetypes and classic story tropes; and he’s also always been a 60’s Chevy or classic car fan. His first ever car was a '61 Camero which he’s almost done restoring he’s been working on it for the past 10yrs, and also had a ‘65 Mustang which he restored a bit and then sold so he’s always been into late ‘60’s muscle cars so seeing Baby for the first time was like ‘Yeah!’ he’s not sure he had ever seen one before in his life.

Like I said, that wraps up the….interview(?) portion of the podcast. Then they say there are upcoming messages but there are none so that’s pointless.

They are doing a bitch count to count how many times in the series ‘bitch’ or ‘son of a bitch’ were said *long suffering sigh*

They’re also highlighting things that make the show a little dated like the computer monitors. Doing a creepy kid count. They share some random trivia about the ep like how the note from Jessica on the cookies was written by Holly Ollis the long time publicist at the WB. Or how this is one of two eps fimed in the US, the other being the Bloodlines backdoor pilot.

The speak a little bit on the mythology of the ep, and RB does one of the- if not the worst pronunciation of La Llorona I've ever heard. They allegedly did re-search for this but they couldn't find the man a clip to help him learn how to say Llorona properly.

They go through the cast a la IMDB and if you stick around past the end music there’s some excerpts tucked away one being Jared sharing a story about how he used to get mistaken for Barry Watson - an actor on 7th Heaven - and one time his girlfriend at the time, Sandy, was flying to Van to see him and the guy sitting next to her had asked what she was headed to Van for, she told him it was to visit her boyfriend who's filming a show and when she tells him what show it is the guy went "no way, is he the short one or the one from 7th Heaven?".

Moving on to Wendigo.

RS for some reason says they talk about Kim Manners but I listened to this whole thing and unless I zoned out, which is admittedly a very real possibility, they don’t actually talk about him they just mention him. I don’t know if they did talk about him and then it just got cut out and they forgot to edit the script. I do know I didn’t like the way RS talked about Manners though the way he says “he [Kim Manners] didn’t survive the run of the show, he passed away somewhere in there” it just sounded kind of flippant to me….I don’t know I didn’t like it.

Anyways same as the last, they do a mini recap of the ep before starting the interview portion.

Jared mentions how they call Wendigo episode number one. This is because Pilots are not numbered.

Four months passed between this episode being filmed and the Pilot.

When they got picked up, they had to travel to New York for the upfront presentations and afterwards they went to Nobu with some of the execs from the studio network. And that’s when Jared found out they wouldn’t be filming in LA that they’d be filming in Vancouver.

Jared and Jensen mention how they spend their summer between the filming of the Pilot and the filming of Wendigo together hanging out and doing their assigned fight training. Jensen shares the story about how one time their trainer put them in the ring to spar, Jared hit him hard on the nose and when he went to do it again Jensen got him with a right hook that made Jared’s ear ring which is when their trainer told them that was enough, got them out of the ring and never made them spar like that again.

This episode marks the beginning of the “Dean voice” and Jensen talks about how that came to be; that came about after meeting Jeffrey and seeing parts of the Pilot and seeing what he was doing as dad. Jensen figured if this is a first born son who idolizes his father, he wants to be like his father and is going to imitate him. And John has such a rich voice, maybe that’s something Dean inherited from his father and also leans into it a little bit to be like dad. It didn’t happen in the Pilot because he hadn't met Jeffrey and seen what he was going to do to the character yet, it wasn’t till he got to Van and started work on Wendigo that he realized that’s something he could add to the character.

They tell the Stanley Park story about how Kripke sat them down and told them the show boils down to them and their relationship.

RS didn’t know this is where the iconic line of “Saving people, hunting things. The family business” had come from *screams into the distance*

Jared is a big fan of Paul Newman and Robert Redford, and Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid so he freaked out a bit when he met Donnelly Rhodes told him what a big fan he was and asked him questions about his scene in the movie.

Then we reach the halfway point but instead of just music they pass the clip about how messages are coming. But they don't have sponsors.

David Nutter was the Pilot King, if he directed the Pilot of a show odds were it would get picked up. Supernatural was the 11th Pilot he did and 11th to go to series.

They mention Dawn who sort of inherited them when the WB- UPN merger happened and how she didn’t like them.

Jensen says he remembers Nutter never sitting down, he was always close to set, had an endless supply of energy even though you never saw him eat or drink anything, gentle with the actors.

Jared says he imagines that what Nutter realized is when shooting a Pilot cast it correctly, cast it with people whose instincts go towards what their characters will be and don’t overdirect them; Jared doesn’t feel he truly knew Sam until at least towards the end of the first season, he was still learning as an actor and he didn’t want the Pilot to be the best Sam Winchester is he’s gonna have to evolve, and Nutter seemed to get that he wasn’t a micromanager he set the scene and stage for them to do the best they could.

On the experience of forging the SPN crew family. For Jared from episode 1 to the Benders which was episode 15 he was focused on Jensen and Sam was focused on Dean. It wasn’t until he felt he had hit his stride with Sam that he realized he could spend time getting to know the crew cause several of his first eps were spend trying to learn things about Sam. So by the time he got to know them the crew had spend months seeing him and Jensen working together in concert in a friendly but creative, efficient way so there was a mutual trust there, they knew him and Jensen were good dudes who cared about what they were doing.

Jensen feels they got to know their crew quickly because it was just him and Jared so the crew was the extension of who they were surrounding themselves with and they quickly became bonded; they also had a lot of crew members they were contemporary in age with which helped.

They filmed the Pilot, then Wendigo then they did Hook Man which got moved because it needed more work, followed by Dead in the Water, and Phantom Traveler which is when they met Bob Singer who until then had been in LA essentially baby-sitting Kripke who was only around 30-33 when the show got picked up. That’s young for a showrunner so Singer was kind of hired to be the veteran and keep Eric within the lines.

At the end of the interview the boys talk a little bit about their projects.

Jared says Walker s2 will have 20 episodes. And also mentions that the prequel that was announced Walker: Independence has actually been in the works since January before Walker even premiered.

Jensen says the network has script in hand for the Winchesters and he should have news by January. This was recorded in 2021 by the way so that January means now not in 2023.

There's another clip announcing a message break that doesn’t go to messages. An excerpt from I think a future episode with Bob Singer where he tells the story about how originally Kripke had written the episode subsequent to the Pilot as a ghost story but the head of the WB didn’t want them to do another ghost story right after the Pilot so Kripke came up with the Wendigo and it was expensive and took like 10 days to film, and the network was not happy at the cost.

And by this time any shred of attention I was paying to this thing was gone so....

It wasn't as bad as it could have been however it's badly edited, I wouldn't consider it a re-watch podcast because first of all it seems Rob and Richard have only seen some episodes of the first season so they're not re-watching it they're watching it for the first time, they do so individually they don't share their experience watching it, and they don't go through the ep with the guests it's just general talk about the episode. The company producing this is apparently interested in listening to feedback and going to be making changes and so called improvements. So I don't know if these are things that will change.

Sincerely, I don't care. I have no plans to listen to more of this podcast, and quite frankly if the boys appear again I'm not sure I would listen to it. There were some interesting parts and I love listening to the boys talk but...let me put it this way there was a point where I paused this to go do something and then forgot it existed for like 20mins, if it hadn't been because I had my notes for this post open I would have forgotten that I hadn't finished listening. And that happened on the first episode.

This podcast is currently only available in audio form, I don't know if there are plans to ever release it in video format. If you wish to listen to the eps yourself you can find both episodes on Apple podcasts as Supernatural Then and Now.

#there is no link this time because i closed the tab without thinking and i don't care enough to go looking for it #j2 #mine #long post

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goatahoan · 4 years

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The Cauldron

This came about in December when I was thinking about the cauldron and what happened there. I don’t plan to write anything else, but I hadn’t planned on writing this either. So, this is my Elain fic where she explains to Azriel what happened in the cauldron.

“I was supposed to be married next week,” I rasped.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Feyre said. Her voice was so soft it seemed like she was afraid that if she spoke any louder I might fracture. I’m sure I looked like I would fracture.

Sorry. That was all anyone would say to me now. Sorry. Sorry for the life you should be having. Sorry for everything that was stolen from you. Sorry for the noise and the constant assaults on your senses. Sorry for clanging swords on the roof and the sounds of fae training and fighting.

Sorry for locking you up in this cavernous house where the wind howls at all hours of the day and footsteps echo.

No one was as sorry as I was.

…

Weeks passed and I was sitting in the garden, the sunlight warming my skin when a large shadow briefly blotted out the sun. I knew his smell, the sound of his heartbeat, before he even tucked his wings and landed nearby.

“May I join you?” Azriel asked softly. I nodded and he laid back onto the lounge chair that he often occupied when he sat in the garden with me. Azriel was a restful presence, one of the few that was tolerable in this group of loud and active fae.

A group I was now perhaps part of.

“Feyre is worried about you,” he mumbled. I responded with a sharp look. We rarely spoke during our time in the garden together. Often I would sit as the tea that was perennially brought to me cooled and he would sort through papers that appeared from nowhere.

“I do not mean to pry—” he started again.

“Then don’t,” I interrupted. He observed me carefully, his shadows swirling around his throat and winding around his left ear. Whatever he saw then encouraged him to start again as I gazed into his hazel eyes.

“Lucien is a good male,” his tone was even, flat, and careful. I let the comment hang between us.

I had been forced to listen to Lucien’s breathing nearby since Feyre had returned with him. I had endured his longing stares and quick glances for weeks. I had no reason to dignify Azriel’s words with a response, but then I recalled a far-off memory. It was like an itch in the back of my brain, an itch I couldn’t reach and couldn’t make sense of. A blurred memory started to form of this scene, or of one very similar. Azriel and I sitting just as we were now, sipping tea and laughing. My hand on his arm as we smiled together. It seemed like a ludicrous memory. I hadn’t laughed in ages and the thought of laughing made my empty stomach roil. I wondered if this was a memory or a lingering effect from the cauldron, flickers of a life I would not live. “How long was I in the cauldron for, Azriel?” I asked carefully. His pupils dilated, likey remembering the pain of the poison winding through his veins as we were all rendered helpless by the king of Hybern.

“How long were you in the cauldron for, Elain?” he asked me back.

:readmore:

We both knew that for him it had been moments. I hadn’t planned to share the story with him, or with anyone. But I took a deep breath and reached for my teacup. His eyes tracked my movement and it occurred to me that this was the first time Azriel had seen me consume anything, food or drink, since my arrival in the Night Court.

After a small sip, I told him of the cauldron.

I was pushed into the cauldron and suddenly everything around me changed. I was no longer in a room filled with my terrified sisters and a mighty enemy. Instead, I was back home. In my garden, working as I would be on any other day. The sun was warm and kissed my skin as I dug into the soil to find the root of the weed I was trying to remove. A shadow paused above me and I looked up to see Renaida, one of the many maids that now staffed our home. She offered me a glass of lemonade, condensation pooling along the sides.

I sat back as I accepted the glass and the tart drink hydrated my throat. I hadn’t realized how tired or thirsty I was from a day’s work.

I blinked and Nesta was beside me, fixing my veil as she looked at me in the mirror.

“Are you sure Graysen is the one for you?” she asked, her sharp grey eyes observing my emotions.

“Of course I’m sure.” and I was. I was certain about Graysen. He was my match- a man of compassion and vigor and a desire to see the world righted. It hurt that Feyre could not be with us...it hurt that Graysen could never know her, know what she had become thanks to those over the wall, but he would be mine and Feyre would live her life and I would live my own.

I blinked again. A thousand simple, happy days flashed before my eyes. Days working on the estate I shared with Graysen. Lord Nolan training the dogs, my loving husband kissing my cheek as he left for the day. This was the life I had always hoped for, the life I had dreamed of. Dinners with my father and Nesta on their estate. Parties, so many parties planned and attended as Graysen swirled me across a parade of ballrooms. Evenings reading next to my husband. Walks through the ash forest that Lord Nolan had cultivated to protect us. The scenes passed before my very eyes as if I had already lived them and was recalling them from a long memory.

My body swollen with life while Graysen looked fondly at me. Lord Nolan proudly proclaiming at a summer feast that I was with child. Nesta visiting with poultices for my bulging ankles and reading me scandalous novels while we relaxed in the shade of an old Silver Maple. My father resuming his old carving habit and proudly presenting me with a cradle for the life growing inside me.

I’m holding my son- he is still pink and fresh and flush with new life. Graysen is beside me and he lovingly brushes his knuckles along my cheek while leaning in to look at his boy.

“He is perfect,” Graysen whispers as his lips brush my brow.

“He is, isn’t he?” I grin up to him, feeling our deep love pulsing and growing to encompass this new life.

“What shall we call him?” Graysen asks, looking adoringly at the blonde locks that are slicked down on our son’s head.

“Samuel,” I respond with certainty. We hadn’t decided on a name before the birth. We had discussed names, but I wanted to be sure that my child would have a name that suited them. The babe in my arms had wailed with life and settled the moment he was in my arms. “Samuel,” I said again. This was my Samuel.

I watched as my baby grew- he gurgled and chattered and his angelic voice repeated, “mum-mum-mum-mum-mum,” and I snuggled him close and tickled his toes and I knew then that Samuel was the greatest accomplishment I would ever have. I had given Graysen a son. The Nolan line was secure and my beloved husband beamed with pride anytime his eyes rested on Samuel.

My son, with deep brown eyes and blonde hair, he was the tiny mirror image of his father. From the moment he could walk, Samuel stalked his father’s steps. Across the grounds, to the stables, through the forest of ash; where Graysen went, Samuel followed. Graysen taught Samuel about the hounds and how to train them and when his father wasn’t looking, Samuel would feed them treats and sneak them into bed with him.

A few short years later, I was with child again. My father became ill. Nesta and I nursed him back to health, despite his protestations that his pregnant daughter had no business waiting on him.

My days gardening became fewer as I became rounder. Samuel would rush to me after a day on the estate with his father, place his hands on my stomach, and whisper to the new baby, “I love you, baby, were you good today?” Graysen was always steps behind him, rich with sweat and a deep kiss for me.

My second labor was hard. The grueling pain and exhaustion pushed my body to its limits. Graysen gripped my hand desperately and called for extra healers. There was true fear in his eyes that day.

But we all survived to meet our daughter.

“Thorne,” he whispered as she was placed into his arms. I felt the protestation bubbling up in my throat, but I was too exhausted to argue as I lay back in our marriage bed.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he was right. Our little Thorne was exactly that- she was contrary and challenging and Nesta adored her. Where Samuel was tame and respectful and eager to earn praise, Thorne was wicked and wild and quick to temper. But Samuel loved her deeply. Lord Nolan loved her deeply. And Nesta...Nesta was tamed by Thorne.

It was like my sister had been transformed. Nesta called on Thorne every day. She would take the toddler around the property, weaving roses into a crown for her. Nesta softened in a way I had never before seen. The moment the auburn-haired child was in her presence, Nesta became calm, kind, and gentle.

My husband and I loved each other. And that love ran deep.

“I’m not sure I want you to have any more children,” he confessed one night as we readied for bed.

“Why ever not?” I demanded, shocked. We loved our children. Even though Thorne had tormented the kitchen staff today and caused a two-hour delay in dinner service.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, examining the rug with care.

“Beloved,” I whispered, rising from the bed, “you will not lose me. We will not part from this world until we are both old and gray and surrounded by armies of children and grandchildren.” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his torso and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Graysen looked into my eyes, scanning them for any trace of doubt. When he found none he took me into his arms.

Braeburn was conceived that night, so named because of the sheer tonnage of apples I consumed during my pregnancy. Like his brother before him, Braeburn was calm and inquisitive. He was my little gardening partner and I would carry him around the yard, strapped into a harness Graysen had made for me as I worked on my knees. Braeburn and I spent the seasons like this- bound together tightly as we worked through the garden. His first steps happened next to the lavender bush. His first laugh was thanks to a rose petal brushing his toes.

Samuel had been unquestionably his father’s son and there was no doubt that Thorne belonged to Nesta. But Braeburn...he was mine, through and through.

Years went by like the seasons, Samuel traveled with my father to visit the continent and learn of other lands, other people, and other places. It was the dream I had once held for myself, but I would see it come to fruition for my son. 9 months gone and my son returned to me more a man than he had been when he left. Suddenly he was riding hard with our guards, training at sword by sparring with grown men instead of their sons.

One late fall evening he returned to the manor with a large wolf carcass strapped to his horse. Nesta, who was visiting, latched onto me and at that moment we were taken back to our youth. To the years we had nothing when our darling baby sister cared for us. Feyre. We never spoke of her, especially not in front of Lord Nolan. Graysen knew I had a sister and that she was gone, but to where and why...I could never bring myself to tell him, to explain. Samuel looked at us with pride at his catch as he saluted from his chestnut mount. Nesta pinched my arm and hissed at me to smile.

That night after Graysen took me into his arms and made love to me, I allowed my mind to wander across the wall, to the fae lands, and I thought of my sister for the first time in a very long time.

It had been well over a decade since I had last seen her. She had asked for help from the queens and received their piece of the book and I hadn’t seen, nor heard from her since. I hadn’t questioned what had happened to her, what had gone on over the wall. I knew that if we were in danger Feyre would always work to protect us, to fight for us. Feyre had never allowed us to suffer if she could help it. The next morning I cornered Nesta.

“Have you spoken to Feyre since she last met with the queens?” I inquired, holding my sister’s arms to prevent her from turning away. She inhaled deeply before responding.

“I have written to her, yes.”

I wasn’t even sure how that was possible.

“And you have said what?”

Nesta hesitated. “To stay away. To let us live our lives as they are supposed to be. To keep the fae from our doorstep. You have too much at stake and I will not be bothered with them again.” With that, Nesta wrenched free from my grip, turning on her heel and striding to the gates of the estate. Feyre’s silence made sense- she would never want to impose on us, never hurt us. I hoped she was happy. That she was fulfilled with her High Lord in the far North. And I was grateful. Ashamed, but grateful. Her absence had guaranteed the love of my husband, my father in law. Had secured a life for my children and our family. Nesta had been selfish and horrible to Feyre, but she had done it for me.

Nine months later when I bore a daughter I named her Feyre. Lorde Nolan protested vigorously, but for the sister who had risked so much, for the sister who had stayed away, for the sister who had saved us, it felt like a tribute too small.

That fall Lord Nolan passed away and Graysen’s face became lined with new burdens. He was away hunting along the wall more often than he was not, though monsters didn’t slip through as they once had and whispers of a nameless fear had all but ceased. Graysen and his men counted it as a victory on their part, but I would find my mind wandering to my fae sister as I cradled my youngest and sang to her songs of my childhood.

The days passed into years, some quickly and others dragging. Braeburn worked beside me and tended his younger sister on the grounds. Samuel was suddenly occupied in the village when he wasn’t on patrols with his father or training with the guards. Thorne was a creature unto herself: proud, determined, sharp like the edge of a knife. She spent her days with Nesta at our father’s home. I didn’t realize it until later, but they were both working to understand the trade, to take over my father’s business and master it. Their brilliant minds worked in tandem over sums and maps and surpluses. Graysen pushed for Braeburn to begin training with sword and bow, but Braeburn resisted and I pushed my husband to let him be. Samuel was born a warrior, but my Braeburn was born for the land, to tend, to guide, and to grow. My daughter, however, seemed to follow in the footsteps of her namesake and suddenly she was inseparable from her bow and arrow. It was startling to watch my grey-eyed daughter tote around such weaponry when dressed in such fine, ladylike clothing, but she was a walking contradiction to me: calm but feisty, delicate in finery but determined to train with the guard. She would have made her Fae Aunt proud.

It was at a large family dinner when Samuel announced he had chosen a girl to marry. My eyes snapped to Graysen, expecting similar shock, but he showed none. Clearly, they had been discussing women during their time together and left me out of their confidences. Graysen heartily gave his consent while I demanded to meet her first. Samuel told me to expect Eloise the following day.

Braeburn was in the garden with me, reading to Feyre who was lounging on a blanket in the sun crunching on an apple. They had both grown tall and lithe, skin tanned by years in the garden by my side. Feyre had put on muscle since beginning to train with a longbow.

Eloise’s shadow fell over us and I looked up as she curtsied to me. So formal. But I had to remember the days of courting with Graysen- we had been formal. Polite. Proper. She took a seat on Feyre’s blanket, my two youngest children making themselves scarce. It struck me then, how much I had aged as I spoke to Eloise of her hopes for marriage, her desire to be part of our family, to live on the estate with Samuel, and to look to me as a mentor and second mother. I listened patiently as she described her family, her life, and I wondered how many times we had met at balls or parties. Those events had been the highlight of my youth but as I tried to recall them all I could summon was flurries of color blurring together. Parties that had once seemed so important had given way to mothering my children in the gardens.

Graysen was taken with Eloise.

“That is what Thorne should be like,” he muttered to me that evening as we lay in bed. I knew he didn’t understand Thorne, that he wished she were tame, amiable like Braeburn and malleable like little Feyre. But she was not those things. In this way, Eloise was like a gift to us- the daughter Graysen had always hoped for instead of the cold and distant one he had. Thorne had only ever been close to Nesta- she shared her thoughts and dreams with no one, not even her siblings.

“She seems like she will make Samuel happy,” I replied, hoping to distract his displeasure from our second child and focus his energies on our son.

“Yes,” he agreed absently, kissing my brow and blowing out the candle.

Samuel’s wedding was the event of the social season. The garden was aglow with candlelight and Braeburn and I were puffed up with pride as proper society commented about the beauty of the landscaping. Eloise was a sight in shimmering silver and Samuel didn’t take his eyes off her once. I was pleased to see that theirs was a love match, just like mine had been with Graysen. They moved to the estate, into one of the cottages that had been constructed to house the many guards that were perennially on the property.

Graysen began to gray at his temples as Samuel took on more responsibility throughout the estate. Suddenly Eloise had a shadow as Feyre followed her everywhere. I was thankful for a youthful guide for my youngest daughter- Eloise was patient in showing Feyre how to wear her hair in a proper fashion and how to tint her lips with color. They went everywhere together, gossiping and chittering, and suddenly my bow-wielding daughter and swapped out her arms for books and trinkets and little nosegays she would carry to town with her.

It was the night of Thorne’s 23rd birthday and she had insisted on a small family gathering. Graysen and Eloise had tried to bully her into a grand party that would see the young men from town vying for her favor, but she had steadfastly refused such ‘grandiose wastefulness,’ a term I was certain fell directly from Nesta’s mouth.

Thorne was seated between Nesta and my father and as the dessert course was served (lemon curd tart, Thorne’s favorite) my father stood to propose a toast.

“To Thorne, my beloved Thorne, who, I have decided, to leave my fortunes to, to make my primary heir, and who will inherit my business upon my passing.”

We sat in stunned silence as my father, Thorne, and Nesta tipped back their drinks. Graysen was red faced.

“She will do no such thing,” he commanded, quietly, but with a determined set to his jaw. Eloise rose and excused herself and Feyre and they quickly left the table. Braeburn eyed me as Nesta smiled at Graysen like a cat about to pounce on easy prey.

“I’m afraid,” Nesta smirked, “you have no authority to prevent this arrangement.” My father blinked, surprised that his declaration was being met by resistance.

“What do you think she has been doing with us all this time, Graysen? Riding horses? Arranging bouquets? Flirting with stable boys?” my father demanded, his voice rising, “Certainly not! She has been learning! She will make a brilliant—”

“She will do no such thing!” Graysen growled. Braeburn twisted his body, blocking me from my husband’s view. It was a movement that was not missed by my husband. I had never known my husband to be violent, but Braeburn seemed to sense an explosion.

“She will marry and do what is expected of a member of this family,” Samuel added, looking sternly at his sister.

“I will not marry,” Thorne said, dismissively. It seemed as though Nesta had trained my daughter in how to infuriate and reject men.

“You will do as you are told,” my husband replied. Thorne looked to me, eyes desperate but determined.

“Thorne,” I started, placatingly.

“Don’t do that, Mother! You always do that! This is what I want, for me!” Thorne shouted, standing so suddenly her chair crashed backward.

“Thorne,” my father whispered as if trying to calm a frightened animal.

“I will not submit. This is the life I want to live and I will live it.” Thorne declared to the room before storming out. Graysen shot accusatory looks at Nesta and my father, who was also red-faced and outraged.

“You would deny your daughter her very happiness? Her way in the world—”

“She is not your daughter. I will not allow mine to grow into a harpy spinster like Nesta, now get out.” Graysen’s declaration was met with rage on my sister’s face and if I didn’t know better I would assume she would strike him.

Nesta slowly retreated from the room, but my father continued to stand his ground as he rose from the table, “don’t lose your daughter over this. I nearly lost mine and I regret every moment that I failed them. Don’t do this,” he pleaded as my heart broke. I never spoke of those years, not with Nesta or my father or Graysen or my children. Those years were like a mist that had burned off in sunshine- they were nightmares that I had fought to forget. Braeburn gripped my hand.

“Get. Out.” Graysen commanded, also rising to his feet. My father looked at me with sorrow, with apology, and then followed Nesta out the door.

“Good riddance,” Samuel muttered under his breath. And in that moment, I snapped. I reached out and smacked my grown son across the face, stubble catching on my skin as it connected with his jaw. Braeburn had feared my husband would have a violent outburst but had never predicted that it would be his mother who would strike the first blow.

Samuel looked at me imperiously as Graysen barked my name in shock. I stared down my eldest son, willing him to look away, to apologize, to recant. He stared defiantly back at me.

“Samuel,” Graysen said in a low warning tone, drawing my son’s gaze to him, “enough.”

Samuel stormed from the room then, releasing a disgusted grunt. It was then Graysen noticed that Braeburn was still working to block me from view, to protect me from whatever outburst he was still awaiting.

“You’re dismissed,” my husband said to him simply. Braeburn slowly rose and ran a hand along my arm in comfort as he retreated from the room.

“What are we going to do about your daughter?” Graysen asked, resignedly.

“Let her be,” I said after a beat. Thorne had always been her own person, more a part of Nesta’s family than our own. She hadn’t ever really belonged to me, and I had known that. Perhaps I should have fought to keep her with us, pushed her to train with her father or spend time in the garden with me, but it had been a relief each time Nesta had scooped her onto her silver mare and said she would return Thorne the next day.

“Let her be,” I repeated with more certainty.

“She may ruin prospects for Feyre and Braeburn,” Graysen replied, weighing the costs.

“I rather doubt that. Braeburn has ambition to run an orchard, which already limits his prospects. With Eloise’s tutelage, I’m sure Feyre will be the most marriageable girl her age in a few years. Let Thorne have her happiness.”

Graysen eyed me warily, considering the many pieces that might impact our children. He nodded solemnly.

“Alright. But Braeburn must start proper training. If he thinks he is going to run an orchard he better be able to demonstrate he is also capable of fighting off intruders and thieves. His time in the garden is at an end. Tomorrow, he rides with us to the wall.” With another nod, my husband rose from the table and left me to mourn what seemed to be the loss of two children in a single night.

I was mostly alone after that. Braeburn rode with Graysen and Samuel and when he wasn’t on the back of a horse he was sparring with guards in the training ring. Feyre and Eloise were often in town or on social visits and Thorne had taken her things and moved to live with my father and Nesta. It was a quiet and sad time for me, but it was not to last. Before the end of the spring season, Eloise announced she was with child and my life was sent into a flurry of activity again, planning for a new baby and helping Eloise and Samuel move from their small cottage to the manor. Renovations were soon underway and I was left to oversee the work.

I was there to witness the birth of my granddaughter, Gemma. She had wisps of dark hair matching Eloise and her healthy lungs let us know she was going to provide a world of excitement.

Suddenly it seemed like my life was a cycle- new children being born every few years, babies to hold and love, Feyre married off and having children of her own. Thorne stayed distant with Nesta and my father as her companions; Samuel and Graysen granted Braeburn the money to purchase land for his orchard and suddenly my children no longer needed me.

Graysen and I would sit on the large patio overlooking the garden together, holding hands and sipping lemonade, watching our grandchildren run through the grass. We were blissful in those quiet moments together. No fears, no worries for the two of us.

My father passed away soon after Braeburn took a wife. The two events were so closely bound together- my father being sick just as Braeburn introduced us to Moira, his rapid recovery-dancing with Thorne at Braeburn’s wedding, and within a week we were burying him as Braeburn was celebrating his wedded bliss. Moira hadn’t been what Graysen had wanted, a proper lady for his second son, but we had all understood that the life Braeburn wanted for himself was not one that would elicit the kind of ladies who Samuel had courted.

Our home was filled with love- Eloise bore Samuel seven children whom I adored and doted on often. Braeburn would bring Moira, who was often swollen with life, to visit frequently and walk the gardens with me as I clung to his elbow for support. We would meander the paths that he had grown up in and discuss the seasons and planting. Feyre’s husband was a merchant and she traveled with him frequently, often crossing paths with Throne and Nesta who managed to make father’s success double.

Our life felt complete.

One morning, as I was rising from bed, I looked out at the estate, the land I had worked and honed, the place where my children had married and danced and played and I knew—

Suddenly, I was poured onto a cold floor, shivers wracking my body. Disoriented, cold, wet, I struggled to wipe away the water from my eyes in the sudden dimness of a room lit by torches. I blinked, working to reconcile the life I had lived, the view out my window with what was surrounding me. I pushed up onto my elbows and my eyes met Feyre. Feyre was here? I blinked again and Nesta roared from behind me.

No. No. No. NO. NO. NO.

I remembered this room, the mighty king, the power he had sent out, being snatched from my bed.

No. This couldn’t be. I had lived. I had loved Graysen and bore children and spent 60 years caring for my family.

No. My senses were being assaulted- I heard heartbeats, water crashing against rocks, blood dripping and smearing on the floor, rasping breath nearby, weight shifting, Nesta roaring and struggling and all I could do is look at Feyre sobbing on the floor.

“So we can survive,” someone muttered behind me.

“Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” a burst of light and footsteps, footsteps so loud, too loud, echoed toward me. Rich red hair flashed as he leaned into me, placing a jacket around me. I could smell him then- he smelt familiar, like returning to your room after days away, but I cringed away from him- he was a stranger and it wouldn’t matter how familiar he was, he was not my Graysen.

Graysen. I saw what we would have, how we would live. Our children. Our losses. How? How was it possible? I could recall the pain of labor, the passionate embraces of my husband, the grief of burying my father. Those things had been real. I had lived them.

I looked at the cauldron then, just as Nesta was shoved under, and suddenly I understood. The cauldron had given me the ultimate torment. I had seen my life, had lived my life, my life as it should have been, would have been if a mighty king had not plucked me from my home.

This could not be.

I had a future. A whole life just waiting for me to live it.

The cauldron was tipped and the fae with the striking red hair gathered me into his arms and held me as a great wave of water met the ground where I had just been.

Nesta was before me, whole and young, her face sharper somehow, pointed ears poking out of her tangled hair. She wrestled me from the fae’s arms, petting me and sobbing my name. I was fae now...but...I had lived my life in that cauldron...how long had they been waiting for me to reemerge?

My eyes met the familiar smelling fae over Nesta’s shoulders. One eye was deep, russet, and wide as if he were staggered to see me there. The other was mechanical and I heard it clicking away. My senses were assaulted again all the while the russet eye searched my face desperately.

“You’re my mate,” he rasped, his voice rough with fear and shock.

“She is no such thing,” Nesta hissed as she released me and shoved him away.

My eyes stayed locked onto his. Mate. My mate. Revulsion wound its way up my throat, clawing through my body.

No. No, I was Graysen’s and he was mine and we were all that mattered and I would fight with every fiber in my body to have the life I was owed, the life that was mine.

…

I looked at Azriel again. His face was steady but his hazel eyes were a storm.

“My life will not be dictated by the cauldron,” I declared, finishing my story. I took another long draught from my teacup, which was now cold.

“The cruelty of the cauldron was overwhelming. It had shown me everything that could be, that should be, that never would be. I’m sure Lucien is a good male, but I will never be his mate,” I breathed with cool certainty. Azriel nodded, observing me solemnly. His wings flared and tucked in and he nodded again, picking up a nearby sheet of paper to examine it as I closed my eyes and tipped my face to the sun.

#actotar #elain #azriel #elriel #elucien #fanfic

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hazelandglasz · 4 years

Text

The Very Bad Week, Part 2

By popular demand, I’m continuing this self pleasing little nugget

As far as Blaine is concerned, this week has been a week.

Nothing remarkable about it, a succession of routines that have lead him to this Friday twilight.

He has nothing special planned for the week-end, except maybe go dog-watching at the park if the weather allows.

Blaine is not ecstatic, but he’s not miserable either and that’s a win, in his and in Ms. Ylea’s books.

To celebrate his, um, unmiserableness, Blaine went to the store and decided to let the Fates decide what kind of snacks he would get to watch his National Geographic show – slash – guilty pleasure.

Oh, Sweet and Spicy Pringles? Sounds like something that would remind him of his aunt’s Lutong Bisaya (from far, far away anyway).

“Noooooooooooooo!”

O-kay then, not a good omen.

Blaine slowly turns to face the person who really just screamed like a banshee and.

Well.

Blaine’s savior complex kicks in at the sight of the anguish on the man’s face, but it’s a little bit eclipsed as the “oh my god wow” settles in.

Because underneath the anguish and the end of the day unsettlement, the man who is now approaching Blaine like *he* is the skittish wild animal is frankly gorgeous.

Not now, brain. Very bad timing.

“Excuse me,” the man starts, getting close enough that Blaine can see the color of his eyes.

What do you know, it matches the lapel of his jacket, impressive.

Blaine likey.

“I’m sorry for my admittedly weird behavior,” the man continues, words tripping over his tongue. Blaine can only smile at him, hopefully putting him at ease, “but I had a very bad week, and it’s my favorite snack, and–”

“It’s okay,” Blaine cuts in, his mind made. It’s not a very hard decision to make after all: he just wanted to try the snack; on the other hand, this man looks to be on the verge of a meltdown, and that would be a disgrace. “I’ve been there.” Oh boy has Blaine ever. Just last week he nearly sobbed of relief after finding half a frozen bitten pint of salted caramel pretzel ice cream from Auntie Maud’s kitchen. “Take it.”

“R-really?”

Yep, that’s hope and despair all rolled into one beautiful package of a man, one that Blaine would love to take home and protect forever.

But that would be insane.

Wouldn’t it?

As he hands over the can of Pringles, Blaine’s fingers brush against the stranger’s. Blaine has never been one for believing in reincarnations and soulmates, as hopelessly romantic as he may be, but the tingles that travel through his fingers to his neck are undeniable.

It’s like …

Like his body is remembering the man’s touch from a past life.

The man still looks unsure about it, even as he takes his beloved Pringles. Blaine has to, he has to soothe his fears.

“I just wanted to try it, but it can wait,” Blaine explains, barely stopping him in time before he reaches out to pat the man’s shoulder. “You need them.” Obviously.

Seriously, the man looks he’s on the verge of tears.

That’s it, Blaine has to do something. “Hey.”

The man looks back at Blaine, and there is a wet shine in those blue eyes that only precede tears. “Hm?”

“Are you–“ Blaine shakes his head, trying to rephrase. “Clearly you’re not okay, but are you, you know, okay?”

The man takes a deep breath before a river of words come out. “I’ve been having a hard time, I miss my dad, Ohio is too far, my friends are all busy and I don’t want to be a burden …”

Hold on. Blaine needs to stop that logorrhea before it devolves into a panic attack, and he just heard the right angle. “You’re from Ohio?”

That stops the man in his tracks. “Lima.”

Blaine can’t help but beam at the Pringles Aficionado. “Westerville.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

They exchange a smile, wrapped in a bubble of space and time that Blaine never wants to leave. “My name is Blaine.”

Blaine has been raised right, he offers his hand to shake in greetings with his …. His what? His soulmate? His new best friend, sorry Wes?

Never mind.

Pringles Addict looks down at Blaine’s hand like no one has ever offered to shake his hand before taking it. “Oh. K-Kurt.”

Kurt. That suits him.

Even though Blaine knows close to nothing about the man, he just knows that Kurt, strtaight to the point, elegant, giving slightly European vibes, yes, Kurt is a name that suits the man shyly smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you, Kurt,” Blaine says warmly. “I hope that the Pringles will do the trick,” he adds for good measure. Now would be the good time to leave and let Kurt treat himself to the Pringles to soothe away the ache of this week. Blaine can’t resist, though, and he winks at Kurt before walking away.

Hold on. He was supposed to get a snack, wasn’t he?

Oh, flavored popcorns, now there’s an idea.

Oh! Sour Cream N Chives popcorn? Now that’s definitely out of the box.

Sour Cream N Chives Popcorn it is then.

“Blaine!”

Blaine practically spins on the spot to face Kurt once more.

The dizziness he experiences may not entirely be blamed on his antics.

“Really,” Kurt says, taking a step closer to Blaine and wow, those pale freckles look adorab—

What is wrong with him.

Oops, can of worms.

But Blaine’s thoughts are not heard by Kurt, and the other man continued. “You have been kinder than I could expect any stranger to be, that—that means a lot.”

“I’m glad I could show you some kindness today,” Blaine says, while his brain runs like a hamster in its wheel, specifically about showing Kurt kindness every hour of every day, given the chance.

“Do you—,” Kurt starts, before biting his lips and looking away.

Dammit, that shouldn’t be as cute as it is.

“Yes?”

Kurt looks back at him. “Doyouwanttohangoutsometimes, oh God, thatwasawkward, I’m so sorry.”

“Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t quite catch your words, except for the sorry at the end.”

Kurt sighs, closing his eyes. Blaine waits patiently for him to get his bearings (and adds a bag of marshmallows to his purchase, because while he does want to add an element of surprise in his routine, marshmallows are comfortable and comforting).

“I asked if you, um,” Kurt starts, more slowly this time, “if maybe you would like to hang out. With me. Sometimes. We could—eurgh,” Kurt cuts himself off, racking his hand in his hair. “You seem like an interesting, decent man and I had this urge to not let you go just yet.”

“Oh.”

“Sounds crazy?”

“Sounds like nothing I’ve heard before,” Blaine admits. Truth be told, it is the sweetest thing someone has ever said to him.

Not taking into consideration David’s drunken admittance that “he wished he was gay for Blaine”, especially since Blaine pinky swore never to bring it up again.

Ahem.

“I won’t bother you any longer, you’ve already been more than gentle with me,” Kurt says, turning around.

“Wait!”

Kurt does stop, looking over his shoulder.

Blaine’s heart is trying to escape his ribcage, but that’s fine. “If you’re interested, I know a shortcut to a little park where we could share our snacks and you could tell me more about your very bad week?”

Kurt’s face lights up, and just for that sight, Blaine would …

He would…

Well, he would do whatever it took to bring that look on Kurt’s face.

But Blaine is getting ahead of himself, isn’t he?

(TBC?)

#sometimes i write #klaine #klaine au #the very bad week au #part 2 #fluff #blaine is being a dork for plot reasons

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siryaksalot · 4 years

Text

Mink’s thorough and comprehensive list of pros and cons and stuff from the reboot after watching it all! Will contain spoilers. May update as I think of more. By the way, I’m a lifetime fan. I’m 22, so the whole time they’ve been away I’ve been here, loving the original.

PROS:

The animation. It’s great! Maybe the more neon bright colors are jarring after watching the original which is more washed out, but you get used to it. I can’t tell whether it’s Toonboom or Adobe Animate, but there’s a liiiiittle bit of sneaky puppeting of characters if you have an animators eye to look for it. And I do. When something is ESPECIALLY puppeted, I notice it but it doesn’t ruin anything. It doesn’t look cheap, it looks cost efficient. That being said if you HATE this type of animation you won’t be happy. I’m fine with it!

The character design is the big thing here. The Warners look fantastic and super sleek, all the credit to Genevieve Tsai, she’s a genius. Posing of characters is great too. It’s nice having a consistent look. Maybe you’ll miss the variety of the old 8 studios, but it’s okay.

The voices. Despite people saying Tress and Rob are older and sound different I think they sounded just the same. They were obviously well directed. It’s probably not Andrea Romano this time around but that’s okay.

Slapstick. It’s still the same, they didn’t hold back.

The music. Lovely as ever. We miss Richard Stone but it really was good either way.

The songs, lyrically, are all great! Clever songwriting I’ve come to expect.

EVERY PATB segment. I have close to no complaints about their skits. Just one, it’ll be below.

Them saying FUCK the Elmyra spinoff. Brain was busy these 22 years. That show never happened.

GOING HAM on Tucker Carlson. They absolutely tortured the guy. Fuck him.

The Warners still do their regular ol thing, go in on the jerks. I was afraid they’d be knocked around too much but no, they get control and succeed every time. Thank god.

I enjoyed Nils Niedhart coming back for a second round. The Warners have definitely tormented people more than once, it’s cool.

Seeing the inside of the tower more fleshed out! Me likey.

Yakko says sibs a lot. They know I wanted this. He also STILL does his Uhhhh. Good.

He also calls Wakko “baby bro” a few times and I 🥺🥺... gh...

Wakko and Brain saying hell. Wakko ALMOST saying motherfucker.

Yakko trying a few times to sing educational songs and Wakko and Dot having NONE of it. He gets really upset when he can’t do it, which is also hilarious

Yakko actually getting upset when no one is around to laugh at his jokes. I loved it. I’m glad this moment wasn’t dragged out as well.

CHICKEN BOO. CHICKEN FUCKIN BOO. YES IT WAS NICE TO SEE EVERYONE BUT. I LOVE CHICKEN BOO. HE IS TOP OF MY FANLIST.

The old Chubby Baby clown song playing deep and ominously over Nicklewise. LMAO

Like 15 uninterrupted seconds of Wakko without a hat. Baby. Baby boy.

Still got pretty good reference humor. A few I didn’t get, and that’s how you know it’s good LOL

The little Looney Tunes / Loonatics cameo.

CONS:

The “reboot it” song. Seriously, what happened to the voices? Rob sings ONE LINE as Yakko in the song, the rest is someone else??? And you can’t hear Dot for most of it. She’s just mouthing along I guess 🙄🙄

Adding to the previous, about 4 other people besides Jess Tress and Rob are credited for performing that song... so... hm. I don’t know which guy replaced Rob, but it’s one of them for sure.

The first episode in general was weak. Yes yes we get it, you need to be modern now. Just get to the funny skits.

Lack of Scratchy. I liked seeing him when we did but I love him... want more.

Speaking of him, his new long nose is BAD. Gives me Jewish caricature vibes. Bad.

No Slappy. I get why, you’d need Sherri and she might try to get Tom along with her. WB doesn’t want to pay Tom I GUESS.

The Cutening skit. The song sounds bad... it’s just a little weird. Tress isn’t singing it. Without the Warners on screen, you can barely tell it’s Animaniacs at all. The ending is gross. The beginning of it has some great lines, though. Hell I’m using one as my blog title now.

I dunno, the new original stuff didn’t appeal to me. I’m glad it was sparse.

SOME of the “goodnight everybodys” felt forced.

Hm... Dot’s line in the theme being changed. “Dot Has Wit”. I don’t think it was necessary. You can still say she’s cute, we all knew she was way more than her cuteness anyway! The new line throws me off for whatever reason despite being the same amount of syllables. idk, the flow is just odd.

Giving Brain backstory. It’s ... not a bad backstory persay but I feel this is a thing the original writers only have the right to do. I dunno.

The show says on MULTIPLE occasions that it’s “biting satire”. PLEASE... you don’t have to tell us. Over and over. Just make it biting and people will call it that. pointing it out feels SO forced.

Episode 6 having to be pulled because of the fuck up with Brain’s phone number. THAT is unprofessional. Did no one check??

After reflection... there may be TOO much politics. I think it should be toned down. There sure is a lot of Russian collusion jokes.

NEUTRAL:

The Warners call each other by name a LOT more now. I dig it but maybe it’s a TEEENY bit forced? Idk

Ralph has a brown uniform. Maybe it’s more accurate to the security guards at WB?

Plotz is in a portrait, but no mention of what happened to him. Going to assume he’s dead, LMAO

The new CEO! She’s not THAT interesting but I’ll give her time. She has a name but it’s not even mentioned in the show?? Uh ...

Scratchy saying that Hello Nurse is with Doctors Without Borders now. Good excuse. Good for her.

Saying Yakko can’t do math!! Did y’all see the multiplication song? ok this is a nitpick LMAOOO it’s just silly.

...The anime segment. It’s cool animation, I love Studio Yotta, but idk how to feel. It’s a little much.

The other new lines in the theme. They’re alright, maybe a bit too specific to fit the whole show, but it’s whatever. The conservatives will be mad and THAT makes me happy. 😋😋

The human designs are ugly but they’re definitely supposed to be. The were in the original show quite a bit too.

The reboot gets a solid 7/10 from me! 70% is good, the 30% will be very divsive I feel. It’s a mixed bag, with a majority of the mixture being good. It is NOT on equal footing with the original, but it comes close. If you liked the reboot, haven’t seen the OG? Watch it. I’m serious. Watch it.

#it’s long!#animaniacs #animaniatag #Reboot spoilers #animaniacs spoilers #mink thinks : ooc ;#these are my personal thoughts of course.#extra bits ;

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oswildin · 4 years

Text

O & K {Part 2} ~ Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: O & K weren’t prepared for the day they would have.

Warnings: Bit graphic, talks about a dead body

You wandered into work the next day, head aching somewhat after the multiple drinks you had consumed the night before. It wasn’t like you’d drank so much you were absolutely wasted, but it was enough for you to be tipsy and have a mild headache. You peered over at O’s desk seeing him with his head in a file as you waltzed to your own desk, sighing as you dumped your bad on top of your own files. You dreaded what the day was going to bring.

The images of the day before were still fresh in your mind. The creature you had seen. Well, you say creature. That’s what O thought it was. Or alien even. But you weren’t exactly one for believing that. You furrowed your brows as you noticed a new file on your desk. You quickly picked it up, seeing it had ‘CLASSIFIED’ written in red on the front. You looked around, seeing if anyone was looking at you. But everyone was busy. You bit your lip, unsure whether it had been meant for your eyes. Sitting at your desk, you slowly opened the file, coming face to face with the contents.

‘TORCHWOOD’

You narrowed your eyes in confusion. This was what O had been telling you about. An undercover agency that dealt with extraordinary cases. You flipped through the pages, your eyes landing on a handsome looking man in a long war style coat, under the name ‘Captain Jack Harkness’. You continued to look through, seeing multiple more faces and names as your eyes scanned the pages.

“You found my gift then.”

You jumped at the voice, closing the file instinctively. You looked up, seeing it was in fact O, looking over your desk. You sighed in relief as you furrowed your brows at him.

“Where did you get this?” You whisper shouted as he smirked, shrugging.

“I have my ways.” He told you simply as you looked at him suspiciously.

“Is this some kind of practical joke?” You asked, gesturing to the file in question. He raised a brow.

“No.” He folded his arms. “Just wanted to prove my point.”

“Which is?” You asked.

“That aliens are real.” He said as a matter of fact as you rolled your eyes at him.

“A random file isn’t going to change my opinion.” You argued. “You’ll have to do better than that.” You scoffed as he sighed in some defeat. “Nice try though.” You gave him a tight smile as you held out the file for him to take back. “A for effort.” He exasperatedly took back the file as he held it under his arm.

“Have you ever considered you may just be being a bit naive?” He questioned as you laughed lightly at his words.

“Rather that than gullible.” You fired back. “Look, I know that it’s something you’re clearly passionate about, and outside of work you can talk to me about it as much as you like.” You told him. “But in work, we need to keep our minds clear and heads down.” He nodded slightly at you. “Anyway, I got news back from the analysts, and they reckon this is our guy.” You reaches into another file that was laying on your desk, opening it to reveal a photo and name of a man in his late 20’s. “Works in a bank, isn’t married, no kids, in debt to multiple companies.”

“So what? He’s doing this all for money?” O asked as you raised a brow.

“Well, there’s no evidence of that so far. All we know is he went missing about a week ago.” You said. “But why the suit? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Still hellbent on it being some sort of disguise then?” He raised a brow.

“Well, yes. God knows why or how, but people do strange things.” You shrugged as he laughed lightly.

“Oh come on, you don’t really believe that do you?” He argued.

“Look, people can do all sorts of things. They’re capable if they have the brains or the capacity. I mean look at a few years ago, we had a Prime Minister who turned out to be a fraud, a whole life faked!” O kept his hard gaze. “What if this guy is doing something similar? But next level?”

“Hmmm. I quite liked that Saxon.” He commented, as you rolled your eyes.

“Of course you did.” You commented. “Everyone I knew did. But something was off about him.” You shuddered slightly. “If I didn’t know any different I would’ve believed he had brainwashed everyone.” You scoffed as O tightly smiled. “Anyway, we have this guys address. We should check it out.”

You and O arrived at the mans address. A ‘Mr James Pooley’. You marched up to the door, O beside you as you knocked. A few moments passed, as there was no movement or sound from inside. You knocked again, sending O a glance before coming to the conclusion no one was home. You gestured for O to follow you as you went round the side of the house, heading to the back gate. You tried opening it, but it was locked from the other side.

“Give us a hand.” You told him as he looked confused for a second. “Help me up.” You elaborated as he swallowed for a second before placing his hands gently on your hips, lifting you up a few feet, helping you to grab the top of the gate, being able to pull yourself up and over. You quickly unlocked the gate, opening it as O entered the garden. “Good to know you have some arm muscle.” You joked as he gave a small smile. As you entered further into the garden, you noticed the back fence was knocked down, as if something ran at it and knocked it in the direction it was leaving.

Peering round, you noticed the patio doors had been destroyed. Glass was everywhere on the grass as you carefully treaded through it.

“Someone was in a rush to leave.” You noted, glancing down at how the glass had fallen on the outside.

“Or something.” O muttered as you ignored him, walking into the house through the broken door. The place was a wreck. Things were everywhere, and things were broken, leading to you believing there was a struggle.

“Perhaps Mr Pooley had some undisclosed debts as well.” You commented. However, you didn’t notice that O had spotted something on the corner of a smashed table.

“K.” He called as you turned, seeing him knelt down beside the table. You walked over to see what he was looking at. You saw what appeared to be some sort of green material. You narrowed your eyes. It appeared almost skin like in texture. O opened his bag, grabbed a glove and clear evidence bag to collect the material.

“That doesn’t look like any type of clothing material I’ve ever seen.” You muttered as he hummed in agreement.

“It doesn’t look like clothing.” He added. “I would say it was almost skin-like.” He carefully placed it back in his bag, ensuring it was safe.

“I’m going to look upstairs. You look in the kitchen.” You told him, grabbing your gun incase as he nodded, continuing to look around him. You carefully began walking up the stairs, as things were still destroyed. You paused, seeing a green substance on the wall, along with some red... Blood. You took a breath, quickly headed up the stairs, keeping your gun up and senses alert. Suddenly a smell hit you, as you almost gagged, covering your nose with your arm as you followed the trail of blood that was on the wall. Eventually you came to the end of the hallway, where a closed door was. You prepared yourself, hesitantly pushing it open, as the smell intensified. You weren’t prepared for what you were about to see.

There in front of you was what appeared to be a body... But it had no skin. You gagged, falling back slightly. You’d seen a lot of dead bodies. But this was something else. You quickly exited, stumbling out as O obviously heard your reaction as he raced up the stairs. He saw your shocked, disgusted expression as he looked at you for answers. You couldn’t form the words, as he decided to take a look for himself.

This investigation had just taken a dark turn.

Taglist: @drapetxmaniia @dannighost @imagine-whatever @yourlocalspacebisexual @the-sweet-space-bi @blamerogertaylor @koschei-taylor @koschei-studies @lostshadow12 @hannahlilyyx @wonders-of-the-multiverse @ettorah @nikey-no-likey @imthedoctorlove @twentysomethingloser92 @sometimes-i-feel-like-falling @hellothedoctorisreal @tragic-and-tried @kind-sober-fullydressed @chiswicknoble @sherly-not-obsessed @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @psychobitchtess

#dhawan!master #the master x reader #dhawan!master x reader #master x reader #fanfic #sacha dhawan #doctor x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #dhawan master x reader #reader insert #dr who #agent o #agent o x reader #the master

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vicioushyperbolizer · 6 years

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Ummmmmmm 37, 55, 66, 82, or 94 for either clintcolson, stony, stucky, stiles/derek, zimbits, derek/nursey. (I did not realize how many fandoms we have in common....)

all the ships. but honestly though, there’s basically nobody i don’t ship in the fandoms i’m in, and i have a tendency to wander into outside those fandoms, so I have my fingers into just about everything. I liked these so much that I started writing a second one, actually, so keep your eyes out for that post!

prompt: "You overhear my ex mocking me for being single at a holiday party and introduce yourself as my SO with a kiss on the cheek but we've never spoken before" (thanks @veronicabunchwrites), ship: stony.

Tony checked his watch and groaned. How was it still not 10pm? And why did he make that stupid agreement with Pepper that he would stay at the Stark Industries holiday party until then? Oh, right, repayment for the PR disaster that was the Halloween Bash. How was he supposed to know that the mayor was afraid of pigeons?

He tossed the last of his drink back and headed to the bar for a refill; he was way too sober for all the schmoozing and feet kissing. At least he knew the bar had the good stuff, since it was his party and all. No use skimping on the booze when it was literally the only good thing about the whole bullshit event.

He nearly made it to the bar without being stopped, which was practically a miracle (but not actually, since they weren’t a real thing), but he was interrupted by Mrs Horrible III just steps away. Tony could practically taste the smoky, well-aged scotch that was waiting especially for him. He had to play nice to the stockholders, though, or Pep would have his balls (and he was pretty attached to them, physically and emotionally). He managed to make it a full 3 minutes into her blathering before he zoned out, rattling the ice cube in his still-empty glass (couldn’t the foul woman get the hint?)

Instead of listening to the way she went on disdainfully about how it was “such a shame that today’s society couldn’t appreciate the need for well-made weapons”, and that she understood the company had to keep relevant, but she “certainly felt safer when Stark weaponry was protecting Americans,” (because he was pretty sure that maiming guests would go against the ‘be nice’ directive), Tony let his eyes drift across the large and ridiculously over-decorated room to look for The Guy.

Tony had seen him almost the second he walking in (fashionably late), which sounded like such cliched romantic bullshit, but hey, he couldn't change the facts. That was why they were facts. The Guy was hovering nervously around the gigantic Menorah. He was small, smaller than almost everyone around him, but there was a fierce cut to his eyes that made him look like he was ready to drop his champagne glass and fight anyone who so much as looked his way. And boy, could Tony appreciate that sentiment.

Almost as much as he could appreciate the ungodly glowing blue color of The Guy’s eyes, framed by glasses too big for his face, the crisp pressed khakis that somehow managed to make his legs look a mile long (when they were definitely not, like, at all), and the way his suspenders sat on narrow shoulders, pressing his dress shirt tightly to his thin torso.

And yeah, okay, maybe ogling the guests wasn’t exactly what Pep meant when she said ‘play nice’, but if it kept him out of trouble, how could it be wrong?

His search was fruitless, though. Tony couldn’t see him anywhere. Which meant back to focusing on Mrs Horrible III, and oh hey look, her husband had joined in the conversation at some point.

-read more under the cut or here on AO3-

“-dear. I agree that it’s nice that Mr Stark is donating the proceeds to charity, I’m simply pointing out that I think the best thing for the community isn’t to placate the lazy. No offense of course, Tony.”

Yeah, nope. That was just about all he could take from the Terribles. He was about to interrupt and make an exit (or just walk away, because from the look of it, the two were snipping at each other so much they wouldn’t even notice), when he caught the thread of a conversation floating from somewhere behind him.

“Seriously, how did you even get invited? I see you weren’t important enough to warrant a plus one -- of course my date is around here somewhere. Or is it that you just couldn’t find anyone willing to be seen with you?”

The only thing that Tony hated more than the whimpering, sycophantic masses at these stupid events were the ones who were rude, mean, or downright cruel. The people who thought that getting their names printed on an SI invite meant they had some sort of status or power. They were the same people that controlled the company for far too long, making decisions based on selfishness and monetary gain. Tony was trying to ferret out every last one of them and put their names on a list so black they couldn’t even find work in the Antarctic. By the sounds of it, he had missed one.

Whoever the man was talking to was keeping up pretty well, though.

“You do realize that we used to date, right, and that you basically just insulted yourself more than you did me? And now here you are again, talking to me in the open, where anyone could see it. By all means, Brock,feel free to leave me alone before you taint your reputation or whatever.”

Sarcastic remarks in that oh-my-gorgeous voice? The Guy might have a run for his money.

“Yeah, sure we dated, but everyone knew that I was just slumming it for a fuck. I mean, why do you think I agreed to spend all of my time with you at your white trash friend’s run down, piece of shit bar? Really though, whose dick did you have to suck to get in here?”

And that was just about as much of that as Tony could take. He interrupted Mr Terrible in the middle of what he was sure was a racist, xenophobic, or classist rant.

“Well! Your views were certainly enlightening. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to make the rounds.”

He didn’t wait for a response before he turned around and started walking away, eyes searching for the voices that he overheard. Because “making the rounds” definitely meant sticking his nose where it didn’t belong (probably at the expense of a very high end pair of heels and grovelling).

Tony was pretty sure his brain short circuited a little, when his eyes landed on The Guy and a very large, brutish looking man (sanding way too close, in Tony’s opinion).

Okay, he was positive his brain had short circuited, because there was no other reason why he would decide to stride straight up to them, throw his around around The Guy’s thin shoulders, and say with a wide grin, “Well, that would be me, of course!”

Oh, God. Pepper wasn’t going to want shoes, she was going to want his head on a platter. That was, of course, if The Guy didn’t kill him first, because Tony could feel the Death-Murder beams directed straight at the side of his head. Well, no going back now.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to he Guy’s quickly flushing (embarrassment? rage?) cheek. “I thought I lost you, Snookums. Luckily i needed a refill or I wouldn’t have found you.”

Bit-Tall-and-Stupid looked a shade paler than he had before, quickly taking two steps back so that he wasn’t in their personal space anymore (since Tony had also invaded The Guy’s personal space, but hopefully in a more helpful and acceptable way).

“Oh! Mr Stark! I didn’t… of course. What a small world. How, um, how did you and Steve meet?”

Hey, cool, The Guy had a name! Now if only he knew literally anything else so that he could make up a somewhat believable story as to how they could have met, one good enough that his ex wouldn’t question it.

“How we met? Man, it’s a great story. You won’t even believe it, let me tell you. See, Steve and I met because --”

“Ms Potts commissioned me to do the new artwork in the Stark Tower lobby. Tony liked it so much that he wanted me to make some art for his penthouse. He and Ms Potts thought they could help me get more high profile clients if i came here.”

God bless Steve. And, huh, Tony could vaguely recognize some parts of the story being true, even. He was pretty sure that Steve was lying about the art in the lobby thing because he had never seen any art there, ever (but it did sound like something Pepper would do, and tony wasn’t the most observant person), but a new painting had suddenly appeared in his living room. It was some sort of trompe l’oeil style painting of the internal view of an arc reactor. It was… actually incredibly well thought out and beautiful. Sure, it might just look like a boring view of metal bits to someone else, but to him it was exactly what he wanted to commemorate the transition of Stark Industry into a renewable energy corporation (and his own transition into a new person, but nobody needed to know that he had that level of introspection).

He winked haughtily and pulled Steve more firmly against his side. “What can I say, I like a man who’s good with his hands.”

Steve snorted into his champagne glass. That was cute, why was it so damn cute? He drained it and elbowed Tony in the ribs (hard, ow, pointy elbows. But he probably deserved it, so he would forgive Steve).

“Why don’t we say goody to Brock and go get that refill, hm, doll ?”

Oh, Tony likey. He would gladly follow a sarcastic, attractive man towards alcohol. But he had one teensy tiny thing to do first.

“Well, I would love to, sweet cheeks, but before we do that… I was just wondering something about Brock here.” He looked from Steve (blue eyes, so blue, so hard to look away) to The Other Guy. “Why are you here at this party?”

The Other Guy looked back wide-eyed. He stumble over his answer for a second before he collected himself, shoulders pushed back, chest forward, head held high. Ah, false self confidence, the safety blanket of the mediocre “alpha male” (because Tony would bet his entire garage that Brock would refer to himself as an alpha male).

“I was recently hired as the head of security for the building. And as you know, all senior staff were invited, of course.”

That’s what Tony got for agreeing to delegate the hiring for non-science departments.

“Head of building security you say? Well, i’ll make sure to get that job posting relisted as soon as i leave here tonight.” He waved over one of the uniforms lining the perimeter of the room, a safety measure that Tony had objected to until now. “If you could escort this gentleman out, please. I’m pleased to say that he’s no longer an employee of Stark Industries.”

Brock stuttered and argued, trying to fight against the officer who had grabbed his elbow firmly. Tony smirked as they cut through the crowd toward the exit. Beautiful justice.

When they were through the grand double doors and out of sight, he looked down at Steve with a wide grin on his face.

Steve had an eyebrow raised and a hand on his hip, wearing an expression that could either mean that Tony had fucked up or he was about to get laid. Or both. Tony really hoped that it was both. Hot stranger hate hookup? Oh yeah.

With a flick of his pink tongue and sweeping eyes, Steve licked his lips and slowly looked Tony up and down (please say hookup, please say hookup, please say hookup). He moved the hand from his hip and dragged it down Tony’s silk tie, which was so incredibly hot, wow. When he reached the top button of Tony’s waistcoat, Steve pulled his tie out and then yanked on it, pulling Tony into a heated kiss.

Steve’s lips and tongue were steaming hot and domineering. He forced his way into Tony’s mouth in no seconds flat, licking and biting and sucking like his life depended on it (or like was really, really enjoying himself, which Tony desperately hoped was the case). Tony tried to keep up (there was basically chance of giving as good as he got), but he could feel his knees going weak and he had to catch himself before he dropped the empty tumbler still in his hand. Oh fuck yeah.

When Steve finally pulled away (because there was no way in hell that Tony was moving back first, holy shit), he grinned wickedly at Tony.

“I’m not usually this easy, and I’m not going to go easy on you about pulling that little stunt, but getting my abusive ex kicked out after you fired him from his dream job? Plus, you’re wearing that suit very nicely. What’s say you go get me another drink and see where the evening goes. Maybe I’ll be convinced to show you just how good my hands really are.”

Tony glanced at his watch again. 9:24pm. Pepper would just have to deal with him leaving early. He had a strong-willed, extremely talented, incredibly attractive man (and a good kisser, did he mention the good kisser bit?) to woo. He held an elbow out to escort Steve to the bar.

“I’ll take you up on that.”

#writing #my writing #prompt fill #stony #steve/tony #holiday fluff #holiday prompt #Anonymous #answered asks

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sergeantjessi · 6 years

Note

Okay so how aboutsome jasmine, lion’s fairytale and honey perfume for the botanical ask game?

Hey there, they definitely sound good to me!

jasmine; what mythical creature do you wish actually existed?

My brain immediately screamed “DRAGONS!!” at me, but I looked at a list with some mythical creatures to make sure that there aren’t any… “better” creatures. And I’ve made my decision.

Definitely dragons.

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests?

That’s a quite hard one lmao

I wouldn’t want to be the day sky, but “sky” includes the night sky, and the night sky is so beautiful, I’d definitely want to be that– But still, not a big fan of the day sky, so I wouldn’t want to be the sky.

I can’t really decide between the ocean and the forests, though. I don’t know why. Being a forest sounds nice, but being the ocean sounds nice, too.I think being the ocean sounds a little nicer though. I still love forests. I’d still want to be the forests. But I think I want to be the ocean a little more.

(Which makes no sense based on the fact that I don’t really like water but the ocean is just so?? fascinating?? so much to discover?? so big?? me likey)

honey perfume; favorite movie ever?

My heart says Scott Pilgrim VS. The World, but my heart says Dead Poets Society, too. It’s such a tragedy.

I love Scott Pilgrim because it’s just awesome and I’ve seen it so many times and it still doesn’t bore me one bit. Plus there are so many details and (gaming) references, and the soundtrack is so epic how can you not love it?? Plus, the whole romance thing isn’t as bad as in other movies, because in the end everyone learns their lesson and grows due to their experiences. (Also, The Power of Self Respect is stronger than The Power of Love which is;; nice.)

And then there’s Dead Poets Society. 6 boys and their 1 asshole friend. And of course there’s that one teacher who changes their lives with his teaching methods, because it’s a school movie and what would a good school movie be without this cliché?

… And yet I can’t get enough of this movie. I?? Really?? Don’t?? Understand?? Why??

I freaking got introduced to this movie in school - in school, where usually every piece of literature is a pain in the arse to work with - and the book was… okay? Like, nothing special but also not the worst thing.

But then we watched the movie.

Then we watched the movie.

Not gonna lie, at some point I’ve basically watched it every day. I just got so… invested in the whole story, for whatever reason?? I still don’t know why.

I mean, it’s not a bad movie. It definitely isn’t. But is it extraordinarily (haha, see what I did there?) good? Naah. And yet I still can’t get enough of this movie.

So. Favorite movie ever: Scott Pilgrim or Dead Poets Society?

Technically, it’s Scott Pilgrim. It’s a masterpiece. That’s it. Period.

But Dead Poets Society is so important to me and played such a big role in my life since I first watched it, it would break my heart if I wouldn’t mention it.

There ya have it.

Well, that escalated a little. Sorry. At least you can’t say I didn’t put effort into answering your questions ayyy

(I just… had a lot to say. Oops.)

Danke, Püppchen! ♥

#love uuuu #<3 #jester answers #brockenpuppet #pueppchen #friend tag

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cosmicmadwoman · 7 years

Text

Adam and Eve Chapter 10: Love Letter

hello! I’m sorry it’s been so long, my bf was visiting and he lives far away so i was devoting all my time to him while he was here :) Without further ado, chapter 10:)

Read from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360046/chapters/25427913

Summary: Archie dumps Veronica, Betty searches the Lodge house and Betty and Jughead have lunch with RJ

Rated: M (a little spanking)

Word Count: 5077

Betty was dreading today. Today was the last day of school before winter break, that was a plus, but what was pressing in her mind was snooping through her best friend’s house as she was supposed to be comforting said best friend during a break up. She knew how harsh is was too lose Archie-- he was well sculpted and sturdy, like a thoroughbred, but he wasn’t mature and often selfish. She didn’t regret her time wasted loving Archie, because it made loving Jughead more special. He was everything Archie couldn’t be, understanding, poetic, selfless and multidimensional. She hoped Veronica would gain that clarity when she found a new man, as she surely would.

The blonde had trouble concentrating on her classes and Veronica was noticing. The two were lab partners in chemistry and Veronica heavily relied on Betty to do the brunt of the work, but Betty’s mind couldn’t focus on the names of the chemicals and which ones didn’t go together.

“If I had known you were going to zone out today, I would’ve actually paid attention,” Veronica nudged her shoulder playfully.

“Sorry, V. Stuff has just been-- well you know. Has your dad arrived yet?” Betty asked gently.

Veronica’s face cracked and revealed a bit of sadness, but she quickly pieced herself back together and busied herself with rearranging the test tubes by size. “He’s going to be there when we get to my apartment. I’m excited for him to meet you, at least. The only true friend I’ve ever had.”

Betty gave her friend a soft smile and buckled down, scanning her notes. Veronica was clearly hurting and Betty needed to stop making it about her.

Once classes got out, Veronica was pretty much glued to Betty’s side. Archie wanted to speak with Veronica alone, and Archie kept shooting eyes at Betty for her to leave them alone when they were sitting in the student commons, but Veronica had her arm tightly looped through Betty’s.

“Maybe you can meet him sometime, Archiekins,” Veronica said.

“Huh?” Archie wasn’t pay attention, just thinking of an escape route.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Archie said firmly. He glared at Betty again.

Betty unwrapped herself from the raven haired girl, “Archie, do you want some privacy?”

Archie responded with yes simultaneously as Veronica said no. Veronica reached for Betty’s hand as the girl stood up. Betty stood there awkwardly, Veronica clutching her sweaty palm. The girl’s lip trembled and Betty realized that Veronica had known this was coming.

“Just say it,” Veronica whispered.

“Ronnie, it’s not you, it’s me--”

Veronica scoffed, “And to think you could be more original. We are all going through shit Archie, I get it. I don’t know if you really mean to leave me, or you’re just confused, and I’m so sorry about your dad, but don’t need a boyfriend that gives up when things are hard. I’ll still be here for you if you need me, though.”

She was quite level in her speech and Betty wondered how long Veronica had seen this coming. She stood up, balanced her purse on the crook of her elbow, and linked arms with Betty again. Veronica gave a dramatic wave goodbye and swept Betty away into the black SUV Smithers was driving.

“Is everything alright Miss Lodge?” Smithers asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror, obviously seeing her red eyes from the few tears she let fall when she spoke with Archie.

“All is well, Smithers,” she replied. Veronica brushed some invisible lint off her skirt, an excuse to shield her eyes from Smithers’ concerned look.

Betty dipped her head and whispered to her friend, “How long did you sense a break up coming?”

Veronica looked up and patted Betty’s knee like she was a young, niave child.

“Archie isn’t very subtle when he gets a wandering eye. He is fiercely dedicated when he is caught up in the emotions of teenage romance, but once the trance is broken, he started scoping other girls out. This was going on even before Fred. I think I’ve had time to digest him leaving me,” Veronica explained. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not upset. We are still binging with Ben and Jerry tonight.”

“But he shouldn’t have done it today of all days….” Betty trailed off, allowing Veronica to surmise what she meant herself.

“Men aren’t known for their mindfulness for a reason, Betty.”

Smithers gave the girl’s their privacy until theyreached the lavish apartment complex. Smithers opened the car door and helped each girl out before he spoke, “Mr. Lodge is eager to see you.”

“I bet he is,” Veronica replied in a gravelly tone.

Smithers escorted the girls to the elevator and gave a curt bow when they entered. The girls were silent, both brains consumed of thoughts about dads, ex-boyfriends, current boyfriends and mystery.

Veronica paused at the door and turned to Betty. Her delicate hand rested on the golden knob.

“I haven’t seen him for months,” Veronica whispered carefully, “I don’t even know this man.”

Betty placed her palm on Veronica’s caped shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Then get to know him.”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

Before Betty could open her mouth and say, you don’t have to, just because he’s your dad doesn’t mean he’s your family, but Hiram must have heard them outside, because the door swung open and he emerged, arms wide open to embrace his daughter. Veronica’s body was rigid against his hug and her smile was strained when he pulled away and examined her face.

“You look so… mature,” Hiram admired. “I’ve missed my baby girl!”

“Missed you too, Dad,” Veronica said half-heartedly, which Betty didn’t think Hiram noticed, and if he had, he was choosing to ignore it.

Hiram gestures towards Betty, “And who is this young lady?”

Betty stretched out her hand, cautious to keep her palms closed until she shook it. Hiding her scars was second nature to her. “I’m Betty Cooper. I’m a very good friend of Ronnie’s.”

“Best friend,” Veronica corrected and smiled genuinely at Betty.

Hermonice came up behind Hiram and leaned on his back, placing her chin on his shoulder. It was all lovey dovey, but all forced Betty noticed. The person Hermione really had feelings for was dead, and that had Hiram sitting pretty again. It seemed like a solid motive, killing Fred so Hermione would stay with Hiram. But that story didn't link up with the footprints, unless Hiram hired Hacksaw, which he had done before. Yet the heels, that still didn’t add up. She was weary about searching Veronica’s place, but the more she thought about, the more she acknowledged Jughead was right.

“Betty is Alice and Hal Cooper’s daughter,” Hermione said sweetly, but with a hint of something else.

Hiram arched is highbrows and pursed his lips like he had just sucked on a lemonhead candy. “Delightful.”

Veronica crossed her arms. Why were the roles so reversed in Riverdale? The children were forgiving and kind, but the adults were all about blood and money. Specifically, family blood and family money. If they cared about family so much, why did Veronica’s parents did everything to push her away?

“Can we come in now? My feet are killing me in these new Jimmy Choo boots,” Veronica pushed past her parents and flopped on the immaculately white couch. Betty joined her awkwardly and sat up incredibly straight, afraid pressing her back onto it would leave stains and secrets on the sofa.

“What’s for dinner?” Veronica untied her heeled boots and rubbed her feet with shaking hands. Betty gave her a quick side hug, trying to transfer strength to Veronica.

“Your father and I are picking up taking out from the french restaurant and Greendale. Your father wants to stay in tonight, but wants good food, and the world knows I can’t cook!” Hermione joked, eyes sparking, but it looked likey were sparkling with tears and not happiness.

If her dad made her mom so miserable why did she stay? Veronica remembered her mom saying it wasn’t that simple, but that term was always a concoction by adults to excuse their selfish behavior, it seemed to Veronica. Maybe she would start saying that to her mother; she doubt Hermione Lodge would accept that reasoning for anything.

“Does dad want to stay in to hide from the media?” Veronica pressed.

Hiram took a deep breath and sat across from his daughter on the matching white sofa. “That is why Riverdale is so great honey, we don’t have to worry about that here.”

Veronica scoffed and murmured, “Sure.”

Hiram looked over at his wife angrily, and jerked his head towards their scowling daughter. Hermione looked started, like she was just woken from a deep sleep, “Veronica, don’t talk to your father like that,” Hiram glanced again wanting more; “You should be happy your father is home.”

Hermione's voice was robotic but Hiram was pleased with her response.

“I am,” Veronica drawled carelessly, “It’s just hard to go to back to normal after you’ve been in jail for months and I couldn’t see you.”

“You know he didn’t want you to see him like that!” Hermione chimed in.

Veronica began to brim with tears, “Yeah, whatever. Betty and I are going to my room.”

The raven haired girl sat up and took Betty by the hand to drag her along to her bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Veronica slammed the door and winced instantly, perhaps frightened by the power of her emotions.

“It’s going better than I thought,” Veronica sighed against the closed door.

Betty chuckled at that and Veronica joined in. It wasn’t necessarily a joke, but Veronica recognized how odd it sounded. Veronica was out of the shadow of her father’s spell, she didn’t want to be around him.

“Your dad seems like he has quite the hold on your mom,” Betty observed, moving to Veronica’s bed and motioning for her to join her.

“It’s always been like that,” Veronica said sitting down, “I thought it was because she loved him so much, but I think it’s because she fears him.”

The girl nestled deeper into her pillows and closed her eyes, clearly not grasping the implication of what she told Betty, who was already slowly beginning to suspect her father.

“I’m so exhausted, I wanna sleep and escape this shit. I’m sorry Betty, do you mind? You’re welcome to watch TV or do stuff on my computer,” Veronica lifted her head only slightly from the pillows and talked desperately. Veronica often used sleeping to escape and it was more than perfect timing for amaetur slueth, Betty Cooper.

“Of course, V,” Betty smiled. She tucked the covers over Veronica and kissed her forehead. Veronica is the real Sleeping Beauty. She kept her dress on, her makeup and pearls, and began to drift off quickly with her best friend beside her. Betty kept up the charade of scrolling through her phone until she heard the whispering snores of Veronica.

The blonde slipped out of her friend's bedroom and gently padded across the hall, waiting at the curve where the wall of the hallway and living room met. She hated the word eavesdropping, she preferred to think she was ‘accidentally listening to someone’s private conversation for the sake of gaining knowledge without the person’s permission accidentally’ when she eavesdropped.

“I know it’s not what you envisioned when you got the news you were coming home, but Ronnie’s been through a lot since you’ve been gone. The move, the murders, the… the business situation,” Hermione was obviously choosing her words delicately.

There was a silence, not a comfortable one, but a silence filled with hurried movement she couldn’t see and a gasp from Hermione. Betty turned her body slightly and could see Hiram and gotten up and was now clenching Hermione's wrist furiously.

“Tell her to behave, Hermione. I’m her father and she will be happy to see me,” Hiram said through gritted teeth.

Smithers walked in and coughed, causing Hiram to release his grip and brush off his trousers like it was just another day’s work to threaten his wife.

“Forgive me for intruding, but the restaurant called and the food is ready for pick up. Shall I drive you?”

Hiram nodded quickly and took Hermione's hand in a less harsh, but still firm, grip and guided her to the hanging coat rack next to the door.

“That’s alright Smithers, I would like to drive my wife myself,” Hiram replied shorty.

The Lodge parents left in a dervish and Smithers was left alone. Betty felt intrusive on his private moment, as he let his shoulders fall and inspected his white gloved hands. He sighed, the sigh of a man that failed to protect someone he loved, and she realized Smithers wanted to be more than Mrs. Lodge’s butler. Smithers had his own room down the hall from the Lodge residence, and he left the apartment to go there, she assumed.

This was her perfect chance, and she wasn’t going to waste it. Hiram Lodge hadn’t been back in civilization long, but it was clear he kept up on business even from his cell, so his office still could prove lucrative. After that would be the bedroom. Betty wasn’t pressured to work too fast, the restaurant was quite a ways away, but she couldn't dillydally on meaningless items either. She wwished Jughead was by her side, not only because it would be more efficient to split up into different rooms and then switch, combing through to find what the other would have missed, but because he was her partner through everything, and sleuthing without him didn’t feel right.

The study was at the end of the infinite hallway that had the doors to the bedrooms and bathroom. The door creaked when she opened it and she winced at the sound. Upon first impressions, the study was eerily immaculate, not a single corner of a paper out of place in the neat stack. She would have to tiptoe everywhere to preserve its pristineness. She went to the stack of paper first, but they were mostly bills that had to be paid and business memos with economic jargon she didn’t understand. One paper could be useful though, it was an unsigned contract drawn up to buy Andrews’ construction. She snapped a picture of it with her cell phone camera to look over later.

Betty gingerly opened the drawers on the oak desk, careful not to rouse the arrangement of what could be inside. It was just office supplies, incredibly unhelpful, but a bright red pen caught her eye. It was a pen from a Blossom Syrup promotion that happened several years ago, before the Lodge’s had arrived in Riverdale; Betty remembered the promotion because those pens were the best and she used them exclusively to write in her diary. Mr. Lodge must have more connections with the Blossoms than just high school and business rivals if he had been in Riverdale over eight years ago and gone to their promotion at Thorne Hill. Betty took a picture of the pen as well and made a note to look further into the Lodge and Blossom personal and business ties.

The next drawer was locked, but that was no match for Betty, she simply removed a bobby pin from her tight ponytail and jimmied the lock with it. It popped open roughly and it made on of the manilla files’ contents stick out above the rest. She pulled out the file that was labeled P followed by the dates Hiram was in prison. Betty sat on the floor and leafed through them, they were letters, all written delaticaly in feminine swirls. They were all addressed to Hiram and signed with a simple P. She wouldn’t have time to read all of these, so she shuffled through them and took pictures with her phone to read with Jughead later. Just by riffling through them, Betty could tell they were love letters. And last time she checked, Hermione didn’t start with a P.

Heavy footsteps were heard down the hallway and Betty’s body froze. How could they be back so early? Had she lost track of time? She stuffed the file back in the drawer and closed it soundlessly before scrambling under the desk just as the door opened. The person who entered didn’t call out, just simply walked to one spot, breathed out, walked to another spot in the room, breathed out again, and repeated. Betty clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the sounds of her anxious heaving. If it was Veronica, she could come up and make some excuse, Ronnie would probably believe her in the state she was in, but it wasn’t Veronica; the steps were too clunky and baritone.

Light splattered over her once the chair that was under the desk was pulled out to reveal her shaking frame. It was Smithers and he greeted her with a cautious but warm smile. Betty felt slightly relieved, but she wasn’t about to letter her guard down. He offered her a hand and she took it gingerly and he helped her up.

“You’re a brave girl,” Smithers observed.

“I need to find out what happened to my friend’s dad,” Betty said pointedly.

“Revenge is a tricky thing. There rarely is one person behind these things, and a lot of innocent people get tangled up in these sort of things,” Smithers said.

“You seem to be more aware of what’s going on then someone would first assume,” Betty said carefully.

“I’ve been a butler to rich people for a long time. They don’t get there by playing nice,” Smithers explained. “If you continue looking into their affairs, I should warn you. They’ll ruin anyone in their path.”

“I’m not scared of them,” Betty proclaimed firmly more to herself than Smithers. She was a serpent now. She had a gun and a leather jacket. Blossoms and Lodges weren’t shit anymore.

“I figured as much,” Smithers smiled fondly, “So I’ll give you a tip. Mrs. Lodge’s has the ledger for Andrews’ construction in the desk in her room. It has a combination lock. It’s Miss Lodge’s birth year. There is something in there you must see. I got a text from Mrs. Lodge that they will be arriving in 15 minutes, so you must hurry. I’ll stall them as long as I can if you aren’t out by then.”

“Are you helping me because you want Hiram out of the picture?” Betty probed.

Smithers looked uncomfortable and tightened his ridiculous tie sharply. “I am also fond of knowledge and justice, Miss Cooper.”

Betty smirked, “Uh huh.”

She scurried out of the room and through the first door on the left to Mr. and Mrs. Lodge’s room. It was pristine in there as well, even the linens were pure white with just a touch of baby blue trim. The desk on the left was black and more modern than Hiram’s, and the combination lock drawer was narrow. She spun the silver numbers to read 2001 and pulled it out easily. The ledger was the only item in there. Betty took it out gingerly, like it was a precious breakable stone, and flipped through the pages silently. Nothing but random numbers until there was something written on the back cover. It was Fred’s handwriting, Betty could tell, and it looked like notes for an upcoming project, like he doodled on the first thing he could reach. It resembled a house, a beautiful cottage by Sweetwater River, and underneath it said Hermione and Fred’s dream home.

There were building a house together? Clearly things were more serious than anyone in town knew. She snapped a picture of that as well and slipped out of the room, winking at Smithers who was guarding the door, and slipped back into Veronica’s bed like nothing was wrong.

Betty was excited when she woke up the next morning. She changed quickly while Veronica was still sleeping (she woke up for dinner, ate, they watched a movie and went right back to bed), gave her a kiss on the cheek and went back to the trailer. Jughead was already up waiting for her on the couch, leafing through a worn copy of Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut. He bolted up right when she arrived and he looked at her expectedly.

“Well? I’ve been dying to know,” Jughead patted the cushion beside him and closed his book not bothering to save his place.

Betty sat and pulled out her phone, “I took pictures of everything. An unsigned copy of a contract to buy Andrews’ construction, a Blossom Syrup pen from many years ago they he could only get in Riverdale, love letters he got in prison… and apparently Hermione and Fred were daydreaming about a house together.”

Jughead swiped through the pictured and stopped when he go to one on the letters. “Who is P?”

Betty shrugged. “Another mystery.”

“It seems neither Lodge is faithful to their partner,” Jughead observed.

“Rich people never are, it seems.”

“Good thing you’re middle class and I’m poor,” Jughead chuckled.

Betty didn’t think it was funny. She swatted his arm and scowled. “I could have all the money in the world and I would never do that, Juggie. We’ve been through so much together and I can’t imagine being with anyone else. Nobody understands me but you.”

“That’s a cliche.”

Betty didn’t like his answer and continued to pout. “Well, it’s true so shut up. Don’t let your insecurities doubt my love for you.”

Jughead gave her a side eyed glance and shrugged. “I just hate myself a lot sometimes. I still can’t believe a girl like you could ever love me; I often wonder what alternate reality I’ve stepped into.”

“Well, wherever it is, I never want to leave,” Betty whispered and cocked her head to kiss his full lips.

He kissed her back, putting all of his insecurities into a bruising kiss and grabbing her cheek to bring her closer. She knocked his beanie off in one swipe and pushed her tongue in his mouth, exploring the wet cavern like never before, Betty wanting to show him how invested in him she was. Jughead shed his flannel followed by breaking the kiss shortly for his shirt to come off as well. He moaned hungrily in Betty’s mouth when she tweaked his nipples in between her thumb and forefinger. The couple worked together to shed all of their clothes until both were naked, Jughead on top of Betty, his hardness ready and poking at her creamy white thigh. He kissed down her neck and chest and nibbled lightly on the swells of her breast. His hand snaked down to her center and rubbed her clit in long, lazy circles. Betty arched sharply into his touch and Jughead smirked. Her little mewls and moans gave him courage to experiment.

“Can we try a new position?” Jughead asked.

Betty nodded excitedly and Jughead flipped her on her stomach and brought her up to her knees by wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling up.

“Is this okay?”

Betty just moaned in response and Jughead plunged into her from behind, the new angle causing both teens to grunt lowly like cave people. He respected Betty so much, her mind, her sound her brain… but fuck seeing her ass bouncing on his cock, the expanse of her back shiny with sweat, her blonde ponytail begging to be grabbed-- it was all so erotic. He wanted to give her an orgasm so badly, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

“Slap my ass,” Betty ordered breathlessly, so much so Jughead couldn’t understand her.

He bent over her and whispered in her ear, “What?”

“Slap my ass, Jughead.”

Jughead growled in response and leaned back to give her wiggling ass a joyful smack. It reddened a little, but that wasn’t enough for Betty.

“Again,” she commanded.

He smakced her again she hissed. The stinging only hurt for a moment, but afterwards it was like her whole body was vibrating. Jughead smacked her ass one more time and rubbed lovingly, the combination of lust and love overwhelming her and making her clamp and cum on Jughead’s erection. The sudden tightness had him gritting his teeth and he spilled into her soon after.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Jughead said as he leaned over and kissed her spine. He rolled off and onto the floor, too warm to feel the starchy seats of the couch on his body. Betty joined him on the floor and snuggled naked on his side.

“My ass stings,” Betty murmured.

“Did I go too far?” Jughead sat up slightly and his eyes furrowed in concern.

“No, I liked it,” she smirked.

Once they were showered and dressed, they sat down to paw through the love letters Betty didn’t get a chance to read. There was nothing too personal in them that would tip off who it was, just loving admirations and some gross detailed sex acts that wouldn’t let Jughead or Betty look at Hiram Lodge the same way again. At least the horrible scenes let them know that P was indeed a woman, as he called her sexy mama and unashamedly described how he wanted to ravish her female assets.

“P mentioned conjugal visits,” Jughead pointed out.

“She was probably joking,” Betty snorted.

“We should still see if we can get records of who visited him in jail and see if he received conjugal visits from anyone,” Jughead offered.

“I guess it doesn’t hurt to try,” Betty said.

“Speaking of doesn’t hurt to try… I kind of told RJ we could meet him for lunch today. He really needs some friends,” Jughead said.

“Okay, that sounds nice,” Betty smiled and booped his nose with her finger.

Pop’s was yet again empty, so it was easy to find RJ sitting in the booth alone. He waved happily when he saw them and gestured for them to come over. Jughead and Betty sat side by side in the booth across from him and ordered two chocolate milkshakes.

“Are you excited for break, RJ?” Betty said, starting the conversation off. That was part of the reason Jughead wanted Betty to go so badly, she knew exactly how to do small talk and keep a social encounter not awkward.

“Yeah, I love being home with my parents and the girls, and now Jughead,” he smiled lazily.

“That sounds fun! I would love to meet your foster sisters, I always wanted to a little sister. I can give them makeovers or something!” Betty offered excitedly.

“That sounds fantastic!” RJ clapped his hands together and beamed at the two. “Also, I don’t like to call my sisters foster sisters, they’re more than that.”

“Of course,” Betty nodded, surprised at how good natured the boy was. “I’m sure they need a loving figure like you in their lives. Foster care usually means the child has had trauma.”

“You’re right about that. But that doesn’t define them,” RJ responded shorty.

Betty needed to work to steer the conversation into a lighter direction, “Do you have any fun Christmas traditions?”

The three teens ate and chatted for the rest of the lunch. Betty made sure never to tread away from light happy things, RJ seemed to be really sensitive, and that was fine. She was used to that, as Polly was the same way.

“Betty? Betty?” Jughead said softly, breaking Betty from her troubling thoughts.

“Oh, yes?” Betty smiled.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom then we will head out, okay?”

Betty nodded and Jughead clambered to the back. RJ looked at Betty expectedly, wanting her to talk, obviously.

“Thank you for taking Jughead in. I know he’s not there all the time, but he needs a solid place to land. So, thanks,” Betty said.

“My pleasure,” RJ said and reached out his hand and grabbed Betty’s. He intertwined their fingers and Betty was put off by his claminess. Betty knew he was just being nice, but she wanted to desperately to wiggle free from his grasp. “I got to met you.”

Now it was a little more than being nice, and Betty wrenched free, leaving RJ with a confused look on his face.

“I love Jughead,” Betty said, hoping that would back him off a bit.

“I know that,” He paused breifly before continuing, “But when you climbed through my window that night, all flushed and drunk and horny-- I usually like the innocent type, but you’re incredible. You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for. I’ve been looking in all the wrong places… but you… you’re sweet and innocent, then give your boyfriend a handjob while I’m sleeping across the room,” RJ’s voice is low and husky and Betty squirms in her seat. She didn’t know how to respond. If she punched him like she wanted to, Jughead could lose his foster family, and then where would he go? She needed him here, near her.

Before Betty had to respond, Jughead returned and offered his hand to Betty.

“Ready?” Jughead asked.

Betty swallowed and nodded, standing up quickly and pulling Jughead to the door. Jughead waved goodbye and was pushed into the truck by Betty.

“What has gotten into you?” Jughead chuckled awkwardly.

“RJ is… he hit on me, Juggie. I don’t want to be around him. Please drive,” Betty said.

“I’m sure it was a misunderstanding, I’ll go talk to him,” Jughead offered, but Betty stopped his arm that reached for the handle.

“No. It was not a misunderstanding. He likes how I’m innocent or something… and he heard us that night in the room,” Betty whispered the last part, ashamed.

“He’s an awkward kid, maybe he was just trying to be nice and it came out wrong,” Jughead shrugged.

“There’s awkward and then there is creepy. If you’re not going to believe me we are done talking about this. Either way, that,” Betty pointed to Pop’s like it was a pile of poop with flies circling it, “is never happening again.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Betty,” Jughead said.

Betty just shrugged and leaned over to the driver’s seat and turned the key for him to start the engine. “Then promise me you won’t make me see him again.”

“Of course, Betty, I promise. You’ll never see RJ again.”

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #bughead #bughead fanfiction #its kinda anti varchie #bughead smut #multichap

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nickireadstfc · 8 years

Text

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 1: Angsty With A Chance Of Extra™

In which we are introduced to Neil Josten, the angst-iest protag since OOTP!Harry Potter, and we meet his new friends: Coach Wymack, a Certified Hufflepuff, Andrew Minyard, a kitten who thinks of nothing but murder all day, and Kevin Day, a Big Deal. Everyone is blessed with a healthy dose of Extra and Dramatic™. Hernandez is also there, I guess.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

So a while ago I made this post demonstrating my absolute confusion over what the fuck The Foxhole Court is (What is the court everyone’s talking about? Why so much orange? What is that weird ass sport? What is the court???). Since then, I’ve had countless anons trying to explain the plot to me and/or urging me to read the damn books.

So here I am. Reading the damn books.

Disclaimer: This is, first and foremost, 100% inspired by/based on Mark Reads ‘Harry Potter’ which I truly believe is one of the most hilarious and well-written things you can find on the Internet. Mark, I owe you everything.

Let’s fucking go.

Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn’t want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother.

What the hell. Two sentences in and I can already tell that Neil is extra. Like, seriously Super Extra™. I get that it’s meant tragically and refers to past trauma and all, but oh my god. This is some Augustus Waters type shit.

For the record: I love it.

(Please do not ever take anything I say at face value. I’m a sarcastic piece of shit and I can already tell I’m going to love this series. Please.)

So apparently, Neil’s dad is in prison and his mom is dead. He is also an actual homeless dude who sleeps either in an abandoned real estate or just in his school’s locker room. What the fuck, that is the saddest shit I’ve read all day. No wonder is angst levels are through the ceiling. Someone care for this kid.

His neighbors rarely left the comfort of their couches and daily soaps, but every time he came and went he risked getting spotted. If people realized he was squatting they’d start asking difficult questions.

Okay so this is my bilingual brain talking, I know squatting means something else here, but I just imagined Neil idly doing his squats in his appropriated backyard.

No shit, dude. I’d start asking questions too.

This is the point where we finally get some info on what the fuck Exy is.

Exy was a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse on a soccer-sized court with the violence of ice hockey, and Neil loved every part of it from its speed to its aggression.

MURDER LACROSSE! Yay!

Why is it called Exy though, is what I’m wondering. Because that is a dumb ass name. Endanger and eXplore Yourself? Extremist Youngsters? Extremely Yellow?

The last one is a joke. We all know that they’re fucking orange.

What I’m also wondering is how the hell that sport came to be. It evolved from lacrosse, sure, but like… How? Someone just thought “Hey, I want my lacrosse to be a lot more MURDEROUS so I’m gonna play it on a BIG ASS FIELD with VIOLENT ASS PLAYERS”?

Then again, someone also thought to just play golf but with tiny weak balls and clubs, and today we have mini golf. So there’s that.

Now it’s time for the entrance of someone who’s shaping up to be my first favourite character: Coach Wymack.

“Bullshit,” Neil said. “No one recruits from Millport. No one knows where it is.”

“There’s this thing called a map,” the stranger said. “You might have heard of it.”

That’s his first line. That’s his first line. I love this guy.

I continue loving this guy because he offers Neil a way out of his shitty living situation: Hey, come play with my team of rejects, homeless dudes, juvies and addicts! We might be so shitty we’re gonna get kicked out of the Almighty Exy League if we don’t deliver, and our players have regular actual suicide attempts, but at least we’re getting a lot of media coverage! Oh, you’re on the run from your murderous dad and trying to lay low? My bad.

What a dude.

Next up, another character introduces himself in a wonderfully defining way: Andrew Minyard, who likes Neil’s hot bod so much he decides to smack a racquet into it.

“God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can’t have nice things.”

I agree. Chill out, my man, no need for violence.

(I have a slight feeling “No need for violence” is not exactly the Foxes’ team slogan.)

Surprisingly, Neil turns out to be a massive stalker fanboy as he exactly knows who Andrew is and has been collecting newspaper clippings on him for, like, years. No biggie. I can already smell the shippers lurking in the distance.

Spoiler alert: I also know that those two will end up Banging™ at some point because tumblr told me. It’s seriously the only thing tumblr told me was for sure happening.

What can I say. We love our gays here on this hellsite.

However, Neil’s ability to easily follow all the drama that was going on in Exy World also adds to the questionable existence of Exy. A sport has to be around for some time to get that kind of news coverage.

Example: My best friends do competitive cheerleading, which has been around for years and years, but it’s still a minority sport here in Germany. They have massive tournaments and fierce competition between teams, yet no one gives a shit. Only like, two teams even get any news coverage, and certainly not enough to make this level of stalking possible.

I’m calling bullshit artistic freedom.

(I don’t actually mind too much because I live for the drama. Also, Palmetto State Uni is fictional as well, so who gives a shit.)

It’s time for another wonderful character introduction: Meet Kevin Day.

We don’t know much about Kevin yet except for the fact that he’s a Big Deal in Exy World and Neil sorta hates him. They go way back, apparently.

Kevin was sitting on top of the entertainment center along the back wall. He’d pushed the TV off to one side to give himself more room and covered the space around him with papers.

Again, this may be me bilingual brain talking, but. How am I supposed to understand this?

Papers, as in newspaper that he’s been reading? Like “Oh god, you guys were taking so long being Emo and Persuasive out there with your contracts I just had to read something to save myself from actual brain death”? Or papers, as in actual sheets of paper that he just spread around himself for dramatic effect??

Either way, it’s Extra and Dramatic and I love it.

He and his adopted brother Riko Moriyama wrote the numbers one and two on their faces with markers, tracing them over and over every time they started to fade. Neil didn’t understand it then, but Kevin and Riko were aiming for the stars. They were going to be famous, they promised him.

Literally what level of E X T R A.

I cannot stop laughing at this.

What a nerd.

Also: Riko! I’ve heard that name before. I think he and Neil don’t exactly wear friendship bracelets. I think.

Does he wear friendship bracelets with Kevin?

Intrigued for more. #findrikosfriendshipbracelet2k17

Kevin is also probably kind of an idiot. Like, you watched a man get murdered with this guy and yet you don’t recognize him with a little bit of hair dye on? Either Neil is Hannah Montana or you’re just a massive dumbo.

(Or he’s just pretending not to know him for Plot Related Reasons, which is the most likey answer. But let’s go with Hannah Montana for now.)

“Your opinion has been noted and duly dismissed” Wymack said.

Fury, anyone?

“You need one of us to talk to your parents? (…) Are they the ones who hurt you?”

Have I mentioned I love Wymack.

“You know the people I look for. (…) Foxes are Foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn’t sign you if you didn’t qualify. That doesn’t mean they know specifics. It’s not my place to ask, and I’m sure as hell not going to tell them.”

Okay but have I mentioned I love Wymack.

Coach Wymack was quiet for a minute. “Did you think I made the team the way it is because I thought it would be a good publicity stunt? It’s about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as ou get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you.”

Okay but HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE WYMACK.

Holy fucking shit. I cannot get over this guy.

This is the most Hufflepuff thing I’ve read in probably forever. Like, he deserves a badge. A Certified Hufflepuff badge. Which is, in my opinion, the highest honours you can give someone. What the hell.

Obvs, Neil signs with the Foxes after that shining, glittering star of a motivation speech.

Next up: University! Murder lacrosse! Childhood trauma! Fun gay times!

(Side note: I feel like that’s a good description of the series as a whole.)

I seriously cannot wait.

#the foxhole court #tfc #the raven king #the kings men #nora sakavic #nicki reads tfc #findrikosfriendshipbracelet2k17

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