#how the fuck do you spell That German Directors name????

[scatterbrainedgremlin-writings]

Even more memes

I do not know how to spell that German Directors name so for now he’s just “that German Director”.

#nexo knights #memes #Dragons in Knighton AU #Coisu has a roar like thunder #Jestro is terrified of them both #how the fuck do you spell That German Directors name???? #I took French not German #I just realized I mispelled ’insulting’

[xxgalacticambitionsxx]

I posted 3,889 times in 2022

That's 3,889 more posts than 2021!

275 posts created (7%)

3,614 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@exist101

@moonamite

@is-the-owl-video-cute

@kittieshauntedourfantasy

@boiledegghole

I tagged 1,611 of my posts in 2022

#poptropica - 592 posts

#binary bard - 165 posts

#dr hare - 81 posts

#ringmaster raven - 50 posts

#rumpelstiltskin poptropica - 44 posts

#red baroness - 32 posts

#space - 26 posts

#director d - 21 posts

#myron van buren - 20 posts

#red queen poptropica - 19 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i think there should be pop characters as sexymen because it would be so fucking jarring to go onto the sexypedia and see like bard or raven

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

love how the plots of some poptropica islands are just absolutely off their rocker

under a read more because, wow, this really got away from me

this shark has been eating people so you gotta make it go honk mimimimimi

this furry really wants carrots and also w o r l d d o m i n a t i o n so you explode his rabbot. leaving him stranded in space- wait isn't this a kid's game?

this guy is bald and he's really mad about it

man who kind of looks like dimentio from super paper mario kidnaps a princess to marry her (ew) so he can become king of the universe so you leave him to die in a dimension of his own creation- wait isn't this a kid's game?

zeus is a very bad man and you need to go kick him in the shin

OOO PIRATES

lady with very strange hair tries to kill you over bigfoot

greg you are horrible at watching over your younger brother. be better

small time

this guy almost kills a bunch of people because he is mad at a whale

vampire kidnaps lady because he thinks she's his wife

the olympics

SALERNO COME BACK

oh we're making the villains not evil, that's good- OH GOSH DARNIT IT'S ZEUS AGAIN

this guy tries to steal a baseball card

you need to shrink down and go inside this man to get rid of his disease because he put it on his freaking poutine

capitalism!

RAVEN I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN-

Is- Is this The Most Dangerous Game? Isn't this a kid's game?

Comicon

This girl with an incredibly hard to spell name, just, really doesn't wanna be royalty

oh hey this one's based off the graphic novels!

Oops, you get framed and have to break out of jail!

Amelia Earhart's angry German ex really doesn't want to lose this race

reality tv island but worse

this guy is stealing happy endings and you gotta say his name three times to banish him- just kidding! you freed him you utter fool

oh crap you were turned into a villain for a few minutes, that was, that was unexpected. Also you get a choice for the ending so get ready for ✨crippling doubt that you made the right decision✨

THAT CAT WAS THE GODDESS BASTET? also i used to have a cat named Bastet

19 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

#4

i put so much effort into this it's unbelievable

also if this gets to 50 notes i'll make it my profile picture for a week

25 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

#3

Super Paper Mario fucked me up because i can no longer react to similes in a normal way

"She was as sweet as cotton candy on a beautiful spring day" Like, yeesh Dimentio, take it down a notch

52 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

#2

Laplace’s Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!)

Reblog if you agree!

106 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

victor frankenstein wasn't even a doctor he was a college student why the hell do we even call him that

16,825 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post

[queenshelby]

Saving the Devil (Part Seven)

SPOILER WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON SIX!

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Words: 1,646

Warning: Mention of War, Illness, Seziures, Impending Death, Racism

Summary: This plays after Episode 4 of Season 6 and before the start of WWII. Tommy got away with the assassination attempt on Mosley and now spies on him and his connections with the Germans on behalf of the Crown.

After Dr Halford drove off, you gathered your thoughts and stormed back into Tommy’s office.

‘What the fuck was this Y/N, eh?’ he spat, angry about the fact that you had interfered in his private affairs.

‘I will explain later’ you said in a haste before giving him a kiss.

The kiss took him by surprise and, considering that he had just yelled at you, he didn’t expect you to show him any affection whatsoever.

‘I need to take this’ you told him before scooping up his medical file and, again, he cocked an eyebrow and sighed at you.

‘Have you ever heard about boundaries, Love?’ he asked, trying to hold on to the file but you snatched it out of his hand anyway and smiled.

‘Boundaries? How do you spell that Tommy?’ you smirked after you had put on your best foreign accent and made a run for the door.

‘Y/N, wait…’ he said but you had no time. There was no time. You needed to leave.

‘I will be back at around 4 o’clock’ you told him and, when he tried to stop you, you simply closed the door behind you and left him standing there much to the amusement of the maids.

‘She’s one of a kind Mr Shelby’ Frances laughed and Tommy’s chin dropped. He was gobsmacked by how little authority he had over you and, for some reason, he didn’t mind at all which was something that shocked him even more than your attitude.

‘She sure is Frances’ Tommy confirmed before sitting back down in his chair and wondering where you were going in such a hurry.

‘I like her, sir’ Frances pointed out and Tommy looked at her with his eyes full of questions.

‘And why is that, Frances?’ Tommy asked.

‘Because, ever since she arrived, you’ve been smiling now and then and I like to see you smile sir’ Frances told him, causing Tommy to chuckle.

He sure had some happy moments since you arrived at Arrow House and this was much more than he had expected from the remainder of his life.

He had given up all hope of momentary happiness but you managed to make him happy somehow, even if just for a little while.

***

But, unbeknownst to Tommy, it had become your goal to prolong his happiness and that wasn’t because you had fallen for him so badly.

You were also grateful that he took you in and, at least for now, gave you a home and a purpose. He also made you a promise you knew he would keep if you were patient.

With that in mind, you pulled up in front of the largest hospitals in Birmingham and sought out the director of the facility who happened to be a well-known doctor in England.

‘So, you are…?’ Dr O’Connor asked, greeting you in the lobby and not knowing who he was speaking to.

‘Let’s just say my name is Hannah, shall we?’ you said before shaking his hand and, after seeing the confusion on his face, you explained yourself further.

‘I am a friend of Mr Thomas Shelby. A concerned friend’ you told him and then the man nodded and asked you to follow him to his office.

‘And how can I help you, Hannah?’ the doctor then asked before telling you that his acquaintance, Dr Halford, had already informed him that you were looking to invest in the hospital’s research facility.

‘Actually, I lied to Dr Halford so that I could speak to you in private’ you admitted without any guilt whatsoever.

‘So what do you want from me, Hannah? Enlighten me’ Dr O’Connor questioned and you handed Tommy’s file to him.

‘I want you to treat Mr Shelby’ you explained firmly.

‘As Dr Halford already mentioned to you, there is no approved treatment and the tuberculoma is too far advanced for us to operate on him’ Dr O’Connor told you again but you didn’t accept his answer.

‘That’s right, there is no approved treatment. But, how about the treatment which isn’t approved as yet?’ you queried, causing Dr O’Connor to raise an eyebrow.

‘Experimental treatment? We don’t do that here Hannah. Not unless we’ve conducted the relevant research ourselves. Despite, I don’t even know what you are referring to. Gold therapy doesn’t work for tuberculoma that is located outside the lung and we haven’t developed anything else’ Dr O’Connor explained almost arrogantly.

‘With respect doctor, gold therapy doesn’t work on anything. It never has. The cases who were cured by it would likely have survived without treatment whatsoever. What I am talking about is steroid treatment to shrink the mass alongside penicillin to prevent further spread of the disease’ you explained, recalling the experiments you had seen and were forced to participate in at the camp.

‘For penicillin to work you would have to assume that the infection is still active’ the doctor argued.

‘Well, yes it is. That’s a fact’ you told the doctor who was still somewhat confused about how you knew so much about this topic.

‘How would you know that?’ he wondered.

‘I’ve seen research’ you said, sharp and straight to the point.

‘Research? Where’ the doctor then queried.

‘In Germany’ you confirmed.

‘In Germany? At which institution?’ he wanted to know but, of course, you couldn’t tell him that.

‘I cannot disclose that to you but I need you to trust me’ you begged him, wanting him to treat Tommy with the unapproved treatment.

‘I don’t even know who you are, so how can I trust you? Despite, how do you even determine an appropriate dosage for the treatment?’ he asked concerned.

‘That would be difficult because the research I’ve seen was only partially successful’ you sighed, knowing very well that there is a high risk of dosing the medicine incorrectly, either to low so that it would be ineffective or too high, therefore killing the patient.

‘What was the success rate if I may ask?’ Dr O’Conner then asked and you were concerned about disclosing this to him.

‘Fifteen percent, but only because the test subjects in Germany were overdosed and died as a result of the side effects of the high dosage and malnutrition. In addition to that, the documentation of the trial was insufficient as the research facility wasn’t approved or listed with the union’ you said, lying through your teeth. Of course, you couldn’t tell the doctor about the camps. If you did, you would be arrested which you knew wouldn’t help Tommy.

‘Jesus Christ!’ the doctor spat before carrying on. ‘You are telling me that you want me to carry out experimental treatment on a member of parliament where the research for such treatment was carried out in an unapproved facility with a mortality rate of 85%? Are you insane?’ the doctor then asked but you nodded nonetheless.

‘So, you rather not do anything? Which means that Thomas Shelby will most defiantly die, probably painfully, in about four to six months’ you pointed out. ‘In comparison to a 100% mortality rate as is the case here, 85% doesn’t so bad now, does it?’ you then pointed out but the doctor wouldn’t budge.

‘I cannot carry out this treatment. It is illegal and I will probably be imprisoned if I was to be found out’ the doctor then explained, knowing that you had a good point.

‘Then I will do it. Give me three bottes of corti-steroids and two bottles of penicillin. I can arrange the rest’ you pleaded with him although you would have preferred if Tommy was treated within a hospital setting rather than at home.

‘I cannot give you this medication mam. This, also, is illegal’ he pointed out.

‘You like to receive funding for your hospital, don’t you? Because I will make sure that you will receive none once Thomas Shelby dies’ you spat in anger.

‘Like I said mam, I cannot give you what you are asking for but, what I can do, is leave this key right here and then leave my office in order to attend to an urgent care patient. If there are some ampules and vials missing from the medicine cabinet on the far left then there is not much I can do about that. Now, have a lovely day’ the doctor said before placing a small key onto his desk and, as soon as the doctor left the room, you used the key to open the cabinet he told you about, which is where you found everything you needed.

Them, you packed the medicine and other supplies into your bag and left without saying goodbye and, when you arrived back at Arrow House shortly after 4 o’clock, you were greeted by Frances who took your coat and told you to go to the reading room.

‘Why am I going to the reading room Frances? And where is Mr Shelby?’ you asked somewhat confused and, when she told you that he was waiting for you in the reading room and had insisted to see you as soon as you arrived back, you became rather concerned.

In a haste you, walked towards the large cedar doors and, without knocking, you opened them and quickly looked around.

‘Oh my god’ you gasped before you broke out in tears and fell to your knees. You couldn’t believe your eyes and thought that you were going to faint right then and there as you crumbled to the floor.

Please comment and interact! I love your comments guys and I love guesses too about what may happen next!

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@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #season 6 spoilers

[a-woman-apart]

Watch "I'M BACK! WHY I LEFT YOUTUBE FOR TWO YEARS!" on YouTube

This scared me so badly, because this is EXACTLY what happened in my life, except it was all in The Reverse.

I graduated with an Associate Degree in Music Performance in 2018, but instead of running TOWARDS my dream/calling I ran hardcore AWAY from it. My pride in graduating only lasted a month before I declared myself Utterly Unmarketable and sought to go after a "real degree" and get a Big Girl career.

Between 2018 and 2020 I had major life changes.

My dad died of stomach cancer

I broke up with my neglectful boyfriend

I turned down a Full Ride to a major college

I hospitalized myself for Suicidal Ideation (Sept 2019)

I quit my job of 5 years

I started working for my best friend and became her Office Manager

I started dating the Love of my Life

I lost my friend group and peer support

I lost my mind and left college due to COVID-19 (but not before making one of my best decisions in taking a Screenwriting class because I WANTED not NEEDED it)

Started distancing myself from the toxic women in my life and definining Womanhood/Adulthood for myself

Visited my brother's grave after over a decade of waiting and got closure

Fully acknowledged my childhood trauma/abuse

Rediscovered my sexuality

Was disowned by who I erroneously thought was a close friend of 17 years over my political views

Joined and exited Unity2020

Turned in my car for repossession

Spent a week in the hospital after having a severe, paranoid psychotic break, but came out completely free of the vice of self-consciousness I was living under

You know what is nuts? I feel in many ways, I have completely reverted to who I was in the summer of 2011. I was off my meds, and it WAS mania, but personality-wise, the tempestuous, gum-chewing, cigarette-puffing, flirtatious, humorous, free-spirited ball of fire that drove all the way to Colorado on a whim wasn't rebellious, SHE WAS ME.

I just wasn't Me around the right people, and it wasn't the Right Time.

My inner Sagittarius moon would remain in a dormant state for almost a full decade. I would spend the next 9 years heavily sedated, sleepwalking through life, only alive at The Sound of Music.

It was Torture to feel so much but be afraid to express myself. I had to Hide while doing a major that demanded that I Command Attention. I am by nature "dramatic", "theatrical", "emotional", "expressive" but that part of me was so suppresed that I was frequently told I sang with excellence but without emotion.

Aside: During my 2011 manic episode, I spoke a lot about Doppelgangers. Without going into excessive detail, this is a German word that means "Double" and it is considered bad luck to encounter yours.

In the past 2 weeks, I have encountered people that look/sound like me (Josephine is Nigerian-Canadian and I am Nigerian-American and I kept thinking about her work even though I initially disagreed with her lot) and a woman with my name (different spelling) who was NOTHING like me and I also think might've had malice in mind for me.

I was DEFINITELY an agnostic atheist when I started this year, but as a result of undergoing so much weird shit I almost certainly believe in God, and yes, "God is a Woman." (More on that later)

Also, I realized that I really DID, as many teenage girls, "lose interest in math and science" but that was because of the terrible, unfactual way it was presented in my homeschool curriculum and by my mom, who was a Math major but whose disinterested detachment made every algebra lesson an excercise in torture.

I have always loved biolology and anatomy and I remember so much more chemistry than I thought. Geology class in community college was amazing and also helped me understand-- even more than the Theory of Evolution-- why young earth creationism was completely impossible.

As for math, I spent 15 years thinking it was my greatest weakness when I have had to use arithmetic in cashiering, my managerial work, and my monthly budget for the last 7 years. Also, as annoying as it was to hear constantly, my mom parroting "What you have to do to one side, you have to do to the other" (but in reverse) gave me the ability to do Algebra quickly and (mostly) effortlessly. I could never get A's, but I got a B in Quantitative Mathematics with no real help aside from occasional teacher input and the "Help me solve this" function of MyMathLab.

Here is where it Gets Weird. I am a Creative. I have been writing stories since I was 6 years old. I have loved Story all my life. My parents were in math and science fields and they completely lacked any creativity. COMPLETELY. It was part of why they were so religiously rigid, authoritarian, and draconian. There was no room for spontaneity or childish imaginativeness.

Looking back, I had major sensory and processing issues. I was likely speech delayed, I learned to read late, and I recently confirmed that when I am stressed my dyscalculia kicks in bad (it IS real). Numbers and symbols get really interchangeable (like an 8 and infinity symbol become kinda the same) which is why I had to recite phone numbers out loud to remember them or write them on colorful backgrounds so I can see them in my head as an image. Also explains my aversion to math but my ease with fractions (1/2 is half a sandwich, etc).

My spatial awareness is also shit when stressed. Before I turned in our car, I had earned the nickname "U-turn" from my boyfriend because on that Floating Death Machine left and right got completely crossed, frequently.

By the way, I struggled with right and left until I WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD. I literally didn't understand the concept of a mirror and 3D space, meaning that the basic understanding that my right is someone else's left didn't come into play until I had an argument with my [now-deceased] brother about it.

What is so weird, is that because of years of correcting for these issues, my sense of direction, ON FOOT is good, if not better than most people. Also, once I realized that, given the opportunity, I very much do whatever I can with my left-hand, and that my hearing is MUCH better than I even thought, I am far less clumsy. Depth perception is still crap, but that is probably also because I was forced to spend years without the glasses I needed (and got earlier this year after living with chronic eye strain)

When I talk about these "issues" it is in line with female autism, but you know what? If really do have adult autism, then I am a Complete Boss because I have pwned that ho.

After being rehospitalized, a kind nurse suggested I may have PTSD and suggested medicine for insomnia and nightmares. It was extremely helpful. I had been looking into C-PTSD for a while, because I didn't think I had "suffered enough" to have "real" PTSD. But that isn't how diagnoses work.

Btw, I still have Bipolar I, Psychotic Features. Another kind nurse told me I don't need anti-psychotics, and no, I don't. I was given Zyprexa by a bitch nurse and it was like getting drunk. I stumbled the halls, almost fell over (possibly did) and woke up with a neon "Fall Risk" bracelet. Anti-psychotics also fucked up my menstrual cycle for years and I have had lingering hormonal isssues. Haha no thanks.

Anyway, I digress. Of course I am fucked up. I lived under family members who questioned my reality, attempted to crush my dreams, threatened me with physical punishment any time I behaved in non-neurotypical ways, violated my rights and interfered with my treatment even though I was a full legal adult, undermined my relationships, tortured and socially isolated me, etc., all under the guise "of knowing best."

In minority cultures, our darkness hides in plain sight, and ESPECIALLY in the Bible Belt, with its supeestition and idolization of familial hierarchy/patriarchy, victims of financial, spiritual, emotional, and physical abuse have no where safe to turn. The Long Arm of the Law is often Short when it comes to "breaking up the family", and women and children are victimized openly with little to no intervention.

On top of doing my Creative Work, I plan to create legislation to make sure that what happened to me and my siblings isn't allowed to go unpunished. We lost my older brother, and I almost died, too, but Enough is Enough.

The Time is Now.

P.S. If Josephine is an Air Nomad I identify as a Water Bender. I basically have no water in my astrological chart, but water signs bring me great comfort in times of need (and make bad romantic partners for me obviously)

Also, this is one Bad Biyatch.

I also found out I am an ISFJ, not INFJ. Yep. Gonna be a Playwright and Director. I want to be a part of the action, not just writing about it.

#losing my religion #religious abuse #spirtual abuse #toxic family #parental abuse #no more silence #god is a woman #suicide #mental health #neurodivergence #homeschooling #social isolation #musical mind #soundtrack of life #true love #it gets better #covid2019 #college dropout #Youtube #Korra is my Avatar #we must complete our purpose

[kyloren]

«you have witchcraft in your lips» —famous!Bughead

When Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper were cast as leads for HBO’s Harry Potter prequel show Magic is Might, they thought they did not know each other. They were wrong.

note: this is a collaborative work between myself and @lilibug--xx. I wrote Jughead’s POV and she Betty’s. Be warned, we are each other’s betas, too. 

read it on ao3. 

“A dress made of air and webs and you,

The wet dreams evaporate as they come true.

To anyone else just endless blue,

An invisible kite string connects me to you.”

— Pieces of Sky by Beth Orton.

CHAPTER ONE: mr jones and me, we’re gonna be big stars…

@Variety: HBO picks up four pilot episodes, including Toni Topaz’s Harry Potter prequel project.

@Deadline: Up-and-coming musical director Kevin Keller branches off from theatre and confirms working on Harry Potter prequel series with HBO — Magic is Might.

@EntertainmentNews: BREAKING NEWS: Disney darling Veronica Lodge officially casted as one of the leads in Kevin Keller’s upcoming Marauders Era project — Magic is Might.

@Buzzfeed: You will not believe who was just confirmed to be cast in Magic is Might! 

@CherryBombshell: To all my loyal, beautiful followers: Of course, I got the part. How could they not cast moi?

@NZHerald: Singer-songwriter Archie Andrews is rumoured to be involved with HBO’s Magic is Might.

@Deadline: Magic is Might Harry Potter prequel series finds its Sirius Black: “He walked in right off the street and I knew — that is our Sirius Black,” says showrunner, Kevin Keller.

@EntertainmentNews: HBO’s Magic is Might just cast its Remus Lupin, and it’s a very interesting choice.

@Buzzfeed: Magic is Might’s Remus Lupin is now — Remmy Lupin?!

.

.

.

.

THE WAYWARD PRINCE:

The thing about Jughead Jones — he was weird, and he liked to be weird.

Jughead Jones was the following things: adroit wordsmith, razor-sharp, and a smart-mouthed asshole. He was not, however, the sort a teenage girl’s dreams were made of. He was a little too tall and a little too angular with a face that was a little too fond of scowling to be conventionally attractive. He had two girlfriends in the span of his entire life, and first one he’d acquired when he was nine for the span of two days. He was akin to a scalpel — sharp-edged, clinical, and very good at cutting people out of his life.

Except, Sabrina.

Never Sabrina.

And because of Sabrina — he was here, regretting everything.

“This,” Jughead grumbled for the nth time, “is all your fault.”

“Yes,” Sabrina agreed, throwing a dusky-blue button-down at him with a glare that clearly conveyed wear this or else, “it is my fault that you’ve landed the biggest television role of this year. I apologise for being magnificent.”

Jughead snorted. “Potter is the lead.”

“Who cares? Sirius is obviously meant to be the hot one. That makes his role the bigger fish. And you,” Sabrina said, tilting his head sideways and inspecting the carelessly casual style she arranged his hair in (read: brushed once and let it air-dry), “cousin-german, will soon be smiling from a poster on every pubescent girl’s wall and be the main feature in their dreams.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Jughead’s scowl grew deeper, a feat he had not imagined was achievable before he’d done it. “I’d rather not.” 

Two hours later, two thirds of which were spent navigating L.A.’s atrocious traffic, Jughead found himself lounging in a deceptively comfortable egg chair in a Hollywood studio, waiting to proceed with the first script reading session with the rest of Magic is Might cast. Sabrina, primly perched to his right, was scanning the others over the brim of her rapidly cooling coffee cup with shrewd, pale-grey eyes, as Jughead lazily thumbed through the script.

“Stop eyeing them like you want to wear their faces as a mask, Ree,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I am so not. I’m eyeing them like I want to make a fashionable skin suit, obviously. Get your facts straight, Jones.”

Here was the thing; — Jughead firmly believed that if you did something, you better put your best foot forward from the start; to do your very best at everything you undertook and not half-ass it simply because it required effort. (Life required effort, Jughead often reminded himself, if it didn’t it wouldn’t be so damn difficult.)

This stance seemed at odds with his disaffected and cynical slacker persona, but what could Jughead say — he was contrary like that. He could remain apathetic and be a pedantic perfectionist at heart; he had layers, like a lasagna.

But precisely that sort of attitude had landed him the lead role in Magic is Might as Sirius Black.

It had happened nine days ago, when Jughead had accompanied Sabrina to her second audition for Magic is Might — she had failed to get Lily Evans’s role and was trying out for Narcissa Black. Jughead was there for emotional support, for the sort of get your shit together, you walking waste of space pep-talks Sabrina and he excelled at. He was there to permit his hand to be crushed in a vice grip as she waited for her name to be called, and to take her to Wildflower Café by their apartment to gorge on breakfast foods and stuff their faces with toasted marshmallow milkshakes in the face of another disappointment.

Jughead Jones was, by profession, a screenwriter; he wrote seven plays, one of which had been actually made into a film. He was not an actor. The universe disagreed, however. Kevin fucking Keller disagreed, too, apparently, because the moment Jughead had walked up to a dumbfounded-looking Sabrina after her audition — handkerchief at the ready, just in case — he’d been spotted by Kevin fucking Keller’s eagle-eyed stare. Kevin fucking Keller who’d taken one look at Jughead, pointed his finger at him and with eyedrum piercing snap, barked out, “You, there — in here, now.” and Sabrina, that fucking traitor, had pushed him forward into the audition room.

It was serendipitous he knew the script like the back of his hand, having practiced with Sabrina until they were blue in the face, it was also fortuitous his reaction in the face of sheer audacity was to fall back on his most defining traits — sarcasm and generally all-around fuck-you attitude.

Both, as it had turned out, were great characteristics for one Sirius Black.

So here he was, Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third, newly minted actor extraordinaire with no education about the craft and enough talent, according to Keller, to fill the Pacific ocean and then some — out of his depth, and feeling utterly displaced.

It was a peculiar feeling, foreign and unwelcome — Jughead hated it with the blazing ebullition of pure abhorrence.

“Hey,” Sabrina called, soft as a whisper, placing her hand on his knee, stilling it. Jughead hadn’t realised his left leg had been bouncing. “Relax, bro-bro.”

Jughead opened his mouth to reply something along the lines of Shut it, hambone, but was interrupted when a tall shadow of a small person fell across his lap.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mad Max himself,” commented a small, red-headed girl on berry-red charged murder-weapons on the lam from the law and thus posing as women’s footwear. “So, tall, dark, and inexperienced, how does it feel to finally be in the real show biz?”

There was a refractory set to Jughead’s clenched jaw, so Sabrina answered in his stead, snickering, “I don’t know Big Red, you tell us?”

The girl’s exceedingly red mouth was reset out of its perpetually sullen pout into a grimace of distaste. “For a virtual nobody, you sure have a mouth on you, Emily Strange.”

There were four rules Jughead Jones instinctively followed whenever he chose to speak: Was he being rational? Was he being truthful? Were his words necessary? Were they kind? Often times, if he had not met all of his criteria, Jughead would settle on keeping his silence a while longer.

This, was not such a time.

“Is that all you can do,” Jughead found himself rasping out, “try your utmost to diss people with painfully obvious references? You’re not doing a very good job, are you?”

“You’re a pretty cool customer, huh?”

“I hide my inner pain underneath a stoic visage,” Jughead quipped. Cheryl Blossom looked like would like nothing more than to dig her red-tipped claws into Jughead’s stoic visage.

“Hey, guys,” said a guy in corduroy slacks and a blue-yellow varsity jacket of all things; he was average-height, but with a Heroic Build identifying him as James Potter material. There was a hint of admonishment in his tone, but not enough to reign anyone in. “We’re supposed to be getting along…”

Jughead was utterly unsurprised when he was promptly ignored.

Big Red sneered down on them and with a snazzy flip of gloriously red hair, pointedly perched on the corner of the oval table. Then, she extended a bedazzled with a shape of a cherry phone Jughead didn’t realise she held in front of her on a selfie-stick, and with that godawful pout, began, “See, my lovely cherries, when presented with a choice between either Tim Burton Junior and his blonde Fran Bow or a ginger Kelly Clarkson, Cheryl Bombshell has no choice but to choose herself. I certainly hope their acting is better than their personalities because those are as parched as a dry spell.”

“Oi, Cherry Bomb!” a female producer barked sharply, the one with pink-striped hair and a punk attitude, “don’t fucking live blog a closed script reading, you imbecile!”

“Don’t call me that!” Cheryl Blossom snarled, teeth unnaturally white against the vivid red of her mouth. “How are my cherries supposed to know what I’m doing at any given moment if I don’t blog about it?”

“I don’t know,” Jughead grumbled, too low to be heard by anyone but Sabrina, who promptly elbowed him in the ribs, “maybe try not to seek validation from a faceless mass of people online?” said the kettle to the pot, he mentally added.

The woman with the pink hair was even shorter than Cheryl, but when she stood up, she cut an impressively intimidating figure nonetheless. “This,” she growled, “is what we get for casting a bloody Instagram starlet.”

“She’s a solid choice, Toni,” Keller admonished, softly, gingerly prying away her fingers off his bicep, “she can act and her hair is iconic. What more could we ask for?”

“A fucking professional attitude for one. And maybe,” Topaz, that was her name, Jughead finally remembered, pointedly shouted in red-head’s direction, “not to always pout like she’s about to suck dick.”

Cheryl Blossom looked up from the highly-focused examination of her razor-sharp talons she’d been performing and pouted. “I don’t suck dick on sheer principle, you grotsky little byotch.”

Varsity Jacket raised his hands in placation. “Okay, seriously, maybe you should—”

“Toni, go smoke a fag and find your chill,” cut in Keller, and her hand immediately shot up, giving him the middle finger, but she left the room nonetheless. “And Cheryl, take it down a notch. I’m serious, you hear me?”

Cheryl turned away from him with a huff, but she hadn’t said anything. Instead, she began typing away furiously on her phone.

Huh, thought Jughead.

Kevin Keller was not a tough guy, he noticed, he did not have a commanding presence. Even Varsity Jacket drew more attention to himself with his ridiculous floppy hair, freckled face, and All-American attitude. But, Jughead decided, Kevin Keller understood women. With that in mind, Jughead settled back in his chair, reading over the script yet again.

It was fifteen minutes later when Toni Topaz strode into the room, her combat boots practically abusing the dotted, grey linoleum with the force of her steps, not looking an iota less stressed. “Fuck it,” she announced, “if we wait anymore for those two, we’ll get behind schedule.”

“All right, then,” Keller said, clapping his hands, “places, everyone.”

Like the asshole she was, Sabrina took the seat assigned to him, next to Varsity Jacket, and switched their name planks with a wink. Jughead had neither the inclination nor the naiveté to question her choices, so he dragged the chair he had been sitting for the last half-an-hour towards the table by its back, and positioned himself on Sabrina’s left, straightening the SIRIUS BLACK plaque so it was uniformly aligned with all the others.

The plague before a lounging Cheryl Blossom did not read BITCH FROM HELL, much to Jughead’s surprise, instead, it said — LILY EVANS.

A thought streaked across the forefront of his mind: We are all royally fucked.

Varsity Jacket’s named turned out to be Archie Andrews. Jughead knew that now because the first words out of that kid’s mouth were, quite literally, “Hey, there. I’m Archie Andrews, I’m eighteen, you may know me from last year’s 16 Birthday Wishes, and I look forward to working with ya all.”

Jughead could not have conjured this kid up had he even tried. He shared a concerned glance with Sabrina who mouthed, is he for real? and Jughead only had the energy to shrug. Yeah, he decided, he could see this Archie Andrews as one James Potter. If he squinted.

Cheryl Blossom did not introduce herself. She scowled at all of them, even poor golden retriever puppy personified Andrews, called them philistines, and proceeded with reading her lines. Interesting development: she could act. Expected conclusion: she packed too much malice into her lines and came of as passive aggressive. Keller had to intermediately correct her. That was, however, a correctable quality she could redeem herself from with enough effort; or so Sabrina had said, Jughead’s inescapable, little-devil-on-the-shoulder-type expert on all things acting™.  

When it was his turn to read, Jughead did what he had always done when he read out loud his scripts during editing: tried his damndest not to stutter, keeping his voice smooth and even, and detached himself from the situation, rendering himself utterly impervious to nerves and apprehension. It was not Jughead Jones who had been reciting the script from memory as the lines printed on paper streamed before his eyes in a confusing, maddening swirl — it had been Sirius Black doing all those things; teasing his friend James, flirting with prim and proper Lily, arguing with Narcissa.

Disassociating might have kept Jughead’s anxiety at bay, but it made Sirius Black come alive.

So, of course, once Jughead had gotten into the swing of things, the universe rained on his parade: the door slammed open, revealing two girls standing on the other side of its frame.

“Oooops,” said the shorter one, her dark hair reflecting light attractively as she stode in the room. She had not sounded particularly sorry, Jughead noticed. “Apologies, hadn’t meant to barge in quite so—”

“Veronica,” Toni cut in, as bitingly as a wolf, “you were supposed to be here half-an-hour ago!”

“That late, huh,” muttered Veronica assumingly Lodge, flipping her wrist to check the slim, diamond-encrusted watch on her left hand. “Apologies, Toni, darling, but L.A. traffic is simply odious, as you well know. Got held up.”

“By what — appearance of abominable snowman in the middle of Franklin Avenue?”

“Not quite,” Veronica replied, a sly not-quite smile settling on her face, “Betty and I—”

“Of course, you had hamstrung Cooper, too.” Toni cast a dirty look over Veronica’s shoulder at a willowy, nervous-looking blonde still hesitating in the doorway. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you there, princess.”

“Well, as I was saying, Betty and I,” continued Veronica Lodge, bulldozing over Toni completely and out of the corner of his eye, Jughead could see Call Me Archie Andrews’s jaw unhinge a little, “were late completely by accident, but it was all my fault. Let’s just say, a Lodge doesn’t always land on their feet.

“Still, I had to amend such an insufferable grievance,” Veronica smiled, charmingly, still sly as a fox. “Imagine how tickled pink I was to learn we are not only headed into the same building, but for the same script reading—”

“To which you are late; both of you,” grumbled Toni, but she seemed to have lost most of her heat. Kevin was rubbing her shoulders soothingly as she massaged her temples. Momentarily, Jughead wondered if she was prematurely grey beneath all that pink dye.

“—long story, short: Betty here,” Veronica said, stepping back and drawing the taller girl into her side. “Is my new BFF and I love her to pieces.”

“From a five minute meeting,” Kevin asked, corner of his mouth twitching.

“Boo, you whore,” teased Veronica, earning an unexpect snort from Sabrina, “it’s love at first sight. Don’t judge.” Then:

“You there,” Veronica snapped her fingers in the direction of a fish-eyed assistant Jughead took care to ignore — she’d been making moon-eyes at him, according to Sabrina, and there were times to be wary of his cousin’s advice, but not in instances such as this one. “Fetch me a skinny venti white mocha, one shot, with two pumps of sugarfree vanilla, no whip — pronto. I can’t think clearly without my daily recommended injection of sugar and caffeine.”

Immediately, the situation dissolved into absolute bedlam as everyone clamoured for Ginger’s attention to place their coffee order, too. She’s a sly one, Jughead thought for the third time, smart, too.

Here was the thing about Jughead Jones: he was an objective observer of life, not an active participator. An introvert and a borderline misanthrope, he regarded the world from a safe distance of cool, clinical detachment — he watched and he recorded and he understood because he noticed enough to pay attention in the first place; he was perceptive, and he used this to his advantage. 

And as if enticed by a magnetic pull, Jughead’s eyes drifted towards the leggy blonde to his right. The first thing he noticed her was this — she was uncomfortable. The second was that she was seemed nervous, displaced; and third — well, she was making her way towards him.

This girl, however, was totally throwing him for a loop.

She was dressed in a diaphanous, intricately embroidered, sapphire-coloured blouse, and when she shifted to pull out her chair, Jughead could see her laced brassiere through the silk material. Unexpectedly, she sat next to him, across from a plaque reading REMMY LUPIN. She had a striking look — blue-eyed and golden-haired with a face like a porcelain doll’s; wide-eyed, lovely, and haunting in its stillness. I met a lady on a moor, Jughead though, aureate hair, refulgent eyes; a dancing, starry sprite.

“Hi,” she greeted, turning to him, face splitting into a blooming, honeyed smile, white teeth gleaming, the streaming sunlight from the window behind them set her braid into a molten blaze, “I’m Betty.”

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THE DREAMER:

“Three creams, two splenda, please.”

Betty Cooper was already running (hopefully, fashionably) late; not exactly a good first impression. She had woken up behind schedule (she had sort of fallen into the black hole that was Tumblr, recently, and had taken to staying up late); her cat, Caramel, had thrown up all over the kitchen floor. One side of her hair had dried flatter than the other — she was never going to bed straight from the shower ever again. And her uber had been running behind. Fantastic, she had uttered when finally arriving at the address given. The time on her phone alerting her that she should would have been inside already, had her morning gone accordingly, sipping on her coffee without a care in the world.

Well, that last bit was a stretch. If you asked anyone who knew her, they would say without a doubt that, Betty Cooper cared too much, about everything.

It was kind of her thing, though. Betty had a profound sense of perseverance and applied it to anyone in need of help that she came across. Polly (her older sister and recently, albeit somewhat regrettably, her manager) akined it to her being like a new mother, babying her fresh-faced ducklings. It often impeded her own desires and well-thought out plans.

Betty was a goner for a schedule. She could plan her day like nobody’s business — rarely did it ever actually go according to plan though. She would describe herself as being meticulous bordering the edge of perfectionist — Betty actually detested that word. Being in control of the situation, however, gave her life.

This was all new to her though, at least, fairly. Acting, that is.

She had been on edge of booking a flight back to San Francisco for what seemed like months. With only $200 to her name, and a can of cold soup sitting like a rock in her belly, Betty had auditioned for a role in Magic is Might. She had been failing auditions for months, her savings account was gone, and she was exhausted from working two menial jobs in order to have money to even go to auditions.

So, by all accounts, Betty figured an extra boost of caffeine was in order to make it through the whirlwind day that had been plotted ahead. A table read with her cast mates of Magic is Might, who she had yet to meet, was slotted for the whole day. As well as some promotional pictures of the group. The whole thing came together rather quickly for an HBO show, as she understood. Betty would be forever grateful that they hadn’t found anyone for the part of Remus Lupin yet.

Somehow, her name had been misspelled (she wanted to glare at Polly) and they thought it had said Elizander, on her papers. Whoever had been manning the audition hadn’t done a thorough look-through at the time and had barely looked up at her, just shooed her through the door. They seemed desperate.

To be fair, she hadn’t realized that the part of Remus was male. Of course, she had read the Harry Potter books, who hasn’t? But Polly had simply implored her to get her ass to this audition, without much else to go on.

Everyone had stared at her when she entered the room, but the guy in the middle of the group seated before her had stood up, planting his hands on the table with a loud smack.

“Excuse me, this isn’t —”

“No, excuse me, but that was incredibly rude.” A blush bloomed across her chest, streaking upwards, despite her outward display of confidence. “I’m here to audition, so let me audition before turning me away.”

It turns out that the man was Kevin Keller, one of the showrunners. Betty had desperately wanted to curl into a ball from mortification when she found out, but instead she had been engulfed in a hug while he had exclaimed “Such fire!”, and had let her do the audition.  

They had complimented her afterwards. Apparently she had an inner voice that matched Remus’s suppressed darkness à la werewolf unequivocally. They were going to change the character and rework the script for her. Betty was unperturbed usually, but she had been floored by their sentiments.

Now, granted, they had done the same thing for the character of Snape, but that was for Veronica Lodge — ex-disney starlet who had bowed out of the limelight for several years only to return and turn everyone’s heads when she demanded the part of Severus Snape.

Betty mussed her life was going to be very different from here on out (assuming the show gets picked up after the contingent episodes), but she was looking forward to not cringing every time they ran her card through a register. She loved food, and coffee was a vice she wasn’t willing to give up.

In L.A. there seemed to be a Starbucks on just about every godforsaken block, so she had been thankful there was one conveniently close to the building she was now ardently walking toward. Betty was practically jogging as she took a sip of her drink, the mouthful of cold coffee was sweet and creamy. It was really refreshing — had she not just spilled it all over her shirt when someone plowed into her shoulder, jarring the cup from her hand.

Betty had stood frozen in place, her muscles turning tense as she panicked. Of course she had worn her favorite outfit today. Her pale pink sweater was now sticking to her skin uncomfortably, but thankfully there were only a few drops on her jeans — the dark color of them would prevent a stain from being noticeable, but her sweater…

“Oh my god, fuck, I am so sorry.”

Betty looked up from where she was still staring at her coffee soaked front, hand crushing the now empty cup. She blinked owlishly at the girl who had spoken. A dark haired girl with an equally empty cup, however stain free clothes — impeccable, by the way, in front of her. Small hands covered in white lace gloves (really? The urge to roll her eyes was strong) were reaching out for her and grabbing hold of her arm, gently albeit forcefully. Betty had no choice but to be tugged along and out of the path of the ravenous L.A. goers on the sidewalk.

“It’s… fine, really,” Betty hadn’t wanted to use the word, but there wasn’t anything else on the tip of her tongue. “I’m running late to my read through anyway, I should —”

Veronica interrupted her, raising her impeccably arched brows even higher. “Read through? As in, script?”

Nodding, Betty looked up to the tall glass front building they were almost in front of. She had been so close…

“Well, I think we’re headed to the same place then. Veronica Lodge,” the raven haired girl extended her glove covered hand and Betty raised her hand that wasn’t a sticky mess to shake it. Veronica continued, “pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off and Betty interjected.

“Betty Cooper.”

“Betty, allow me to offer you a new blouse, I simply can’t let you in there like that.”

Betty had started to shake her head, fingers itching to reach up and tighten her ponytail, but alas, she realized, she had worn her hair in a loose braid that brushed the edges of her collarbone. “No, that’s okay, you don’t have to do that.” she waved a hand, tossing her empty cup into the trash bin they had stopped by.

“I insist. Come,” it wasn’t up for debate anymore, that white glove grabbing Betty’s wrist again and pulling her toward a sleek black car that was parked some spaces down. “Don’t worry about being late, if we both are then they really can’t do anything about it."

Betty was surprised that the words didn’t sound pretentious coming from the other girls mouth, but humble. Veronica had pulled her inside the car, instructing her to pull the door closed. She hesitated before doing so, the door shutting with a soft click. She never thought being in a car alone with Veronica Lodge would ever be on her agenda, but here she was, with a collection of delicate tops spread over their laps that were distinctly not at all Betty’s style.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Her green-blue eyes examined the choices carefully, taking in the price tags still dangling from them. Her throat was dry, her swallow surely audible. Everything was more-than-her-rent expensive. Plucking the one with the smallest numbers up, a transparent (okay maybe she had made a mistake here…) sapphire-blue blouse with colorful embroidered flowers, “This one is great,” she smiled at Veronica.

“Oh, excellent choice. Can’t go wrong with Derek Lam 10.”

She scrunched her nose up, fingering the material. Veronica had leant back against the seat, arms crossed expectantly. Betty glanced around to the car windows. “You want me to change here?”

“I expect you, too, yes.”

Betty sucked in a breath of courage and peeled off the stained sweater. Thankfully, her white (unlucky, she had decided) lacy bralette would be suitable underneath the barely-considered-a-shirt. She felt Veronica’s dark eyes on her, watching as she slipped the garment on over her head. Betty tugged it down gently, it only hit the top waist of her jeans.

Veronica reached out a hand to snap the price tag off, tossing it into the empty front seat. “There, oh you have to keep it, it looks perfect on you.”

The blonde smoothed a hand down her somewhat exposed stomach, wishing she were thinner or more toned. “Sure. Thanks, Veronica.”

“You’re quite welcome, darling. Nothing bores friendship quicker than the sharing of clothes and gossiping over boys. So one down, one to go.”

Betty couldn’t help the smile blooming across her face at Veronica’s words. She could use a friend. L.A. had been a lonely place the past two years, which did nothing to help her anxiety.

“Of course, I’m looking forward to it. We’ll be spending a lot of time together after all.”

The other girl smiled back, tucking glossy black hair behind her ear. “Indeed, we might as well make the best of it.” she paused, checking the fancy was fastened around her delicate wrist. “We are incredibly late now, darling. We had better hurry along before Toni sinks her teeth into us.”

Betty nodded, climbing out the car door as gracefully as she could with shaking hands. Veronica had saddled up to her side, linking their arms together as they walked. Feeling a burst of adoration for the girl Betty felt she had wrongly judged in the past (she grew up watching Disney channel, after all) she vowed not to judge any of the other actors based on the same principle.

The ease of being by Veronica’s side made her nerves calm until they were in front of the appropriate conference room door. A wicked smirk graced the raven-haired girl’s features and she disentangled their arms. A dainty platform heeled foot kicked the door in with surprising force for such a small girl.

It had Betty stepping back, hiding away from the doorframe a ways, eyes darting around the room and taking in the scene. It looks like they had already started the read through, and the ball of nerves in her stomach started to grow again.

She did not think it would ever leave her.

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tbc.

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note: Title comes from Shakespeare’s Henry V: “You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate. There is more eloquence in a sweet touch of them than in the tongues of the whole French council.” Chapter title comes from Mr. Jones by Counting Crows. 

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #otp: bathed in sunlight; drenched in shadows #character: jughead jones #character: betty cooper #pairing: jughead x betty #tv: riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #in this tag resides fanfiction #♔: victrix #stark writes #series: roseblood #a song of smol bean and tol bean #series: famous bughead #*

[lilibug--xx]

》you have witchcraft in your lips《

—famous!Bughead

When Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper were cast as leads for HBO’s Harry Potter prequel show Magic is Might, they thought they did not know each other. They were wrong.

note: this is a collaborative work between myself and @strix. I wrote Betty's’s POV and she Jughead’s. Be warned, we are each other’s betas, too. 

read it on ao3. 

“ A dress made of air and webs and you,

The wet dreams evaporate as they come true.

To anyone else just endless blue,

An invisible kite string connects me to you.”

— Pieces of Sky by Beth Orton.

CHAPTER ONE: mr jones and me, we’re gonna be big stars…

 @Variety: HBO picks up four pilot episodes, including Toni Topaz’s Harry Potter prequel project.

@Deadline: Up-and-coming musical director Kevin Keller branches off from theatre and confirms working on Harry Potter prequel series with HBO — Magic is Might.

@EntertainmentNews: BREAKING NEWS: Disney darling Veronica Lodge officially casted as one of the leads in Kevin Keller’s upcoming Marauders Era project — Magic is Might.

@Buzzfeed: You will not believe who was just confirmed to be cast in Magic is Might!

@CherryBombshell: To all my loyal, beautiful followers: Of course, I got the part. How could they not cast moi?

@NZHerald: Singer-songwriter Archie Andrews is rumoured to be involved with HBO’s Magic is Might.

@Deadline: Magic is Might Harry Potter prequel series finds its Sirius Black: “He walked in right off the street and I knew — that is our Sirius Black,” says showrunner, Kevin Keller.

@EntertainmentNews: HBO’s Magic is Might just cast its Remus Lupin, and it’s a very interesting choice.

@Buzzfeed: Magic is Might’s Remus Lupin is now — Remmy Lupin?!

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THE WAYWARD PRINCE:

The thing about Jughead Jones — he was weird, and he liked to be weird.

Jughead Jones was the following things: adroit wordsmith, razor-sharp, and a smart-mouthed asshole. He was not, however, the sort a teenage girl’s dreams were made of. He was a little too tall and a little too angular with a face that was a little too fond of scowling to be conventionally attractive. He had two girlfriends in the span of his entire life, and first one he’d acquired when he was nine for the span of two days. He was akin to a scalpel — sharp-edged, clinical, and very good at cutting people out of his life.

Except, Sabrina.

Never Sabrina.

And because of Sabrina — he was here, regretting everything.

“This,” Jughead grumbled for the nth time, “is all your fault.”

“Yes,” Sabrina agreed, throwing a dusky-blue button-down at him with a glare that clearly conveyed wear this or else, “it is my fault that you’ve landed the biggest television role of this year. I apologise for being magnificent.”

Jughead snorted. “Potter is the lead.”

“Who cares? Sirius is obviously meant to be the hot one. That makes his role the bigger fish. And you,” Sabrina said, tilting his head sideways and inspecting the carelessly casual style she arranged his hair in (read: brushed once and let it air-dry), “cousin-german, will soon be smiling from a poster on every pubescent girl’s wall and be the main feature in their dreams.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Jughead’s scowl grew deeper, a feat he had not imagined was achievable before he’d done it. “I’d rather not.”

Two hours later, two thirds of which were spent navigating L.A.’s atrocious traffic, Jughead found himself lounging in a deceptively comfortable egg chair in a Hollywood studio, waiting to proceed with the first script reading session with the rest of Magic is Might cast. Sabrina, primly perched to his right, was scanning the others over the brim of her rapidly cooling coffee cup with shrewd, pale-grey eyes, as Jughead lazily thumbed through the script.

“Stop eyeing them like you want to wear their faces as a mask, Ree,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I am so not. I’m eyeing them like I want to make a fashionable skin suit, obviously. Get your facts straight, Jones.”

Here was the thing; — Jughead firmly believed that if you did something, you better put your best foot forward from the start; to do your very best at everything you undertook and not half-ass it simply because it required effort. (Life required effort, Jughead often reminded himself, if it didn’t it wouldn’t be so damn difficult.)

This stance seemed at odds with his disaffected and cynical slacker persona, but what could Jughead say — he was contrary like that. He could remain apathetic and be a pedantic perfectionist at heart; he had layers, like a lasagna.

But precisely that sort of attitude had landed him the lead role in Magic is Might as Sirius Black.

It had happened nine days ago, when Jughead had accompanied Sabrina to her second audition for Magic is Might — she had failed to get Lily Evans’s role and was trying out for Narcissa Black. Jughead was there for emotional support, for the sort of get your shit together, you walking waste of space pep-talks Sabrina and he excelled at. He was there to permit his hand to be crushed in a vice grip as she waited for her name to be called, and to take her to Wildflower Café by their apartment to gorge on breakfast foods and stuff their faces with toasted marshmallow milkshakes in the face of another disappointment.

Jughead Jones was, by profession, a screenwriter; he wrote seven plays, one of which had been actually made into a film. He was not an actor. The universe disagreed, however. Kevin fucking Keller disagreed, too, apparently, because the moment Jughead had walked up to a dumbfounded-looking Sabrina after her audition — handkerchief at the ready, just in case — he’d been spotted by Kevin fucking Keller’s eagle-eyed stare. Kevin fucking Keller who’d taken one look at Jughead, pointed his finger at him and with eyedrum piercing snap, barked out, “You, there — in here, now.” and Sabrina, that fucking traitor, had pushed him forward into the audition room.

It was serendipitous he knew the script like the back of his hand, having practiced with Sabrina until they were blue in the face, it was also fortuitous his reaction in the face of sheer audacity was to fall back on his most defining traits — sarcasm and generally all-around fuck-you attitude.

Both, as it had turned out, were great characteristics for one Sirius Black.

So here he was, Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third, newly minted actor extraordinaire with no education about the craft and enough talent, according to Keller, to fill the Pacific ocean and then some — out of his depth, and feeling utterly displaced.

It was a peculiar feeling, foreign and unwelcome — Jughead hated it with the blazing ebullition of pure abhorrence.

“Hey,” Sabrina called, soft as a whisper, placing her hand on his knee, stilling it. Jughead hadn’t realised his left leg had been bouncing. “Relax, bro-bro.”

Jughead opened his mouth to reply something along the lines of Shut it, hambone, but was interrupted when a tall shadow of a small person fell across his lap.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mad Max himself,” commented a small, red-headed girl on berry-red charged murder-weapons on the lam from the law and thus posing as women’s footwear. “So, tall, dark, and inexperienced, how does it feel to finally be in the real show biz?”

There was a refractory set to Jughead’s clenched jaw, so Sabrina answered in his stead, snickering, “I don’t know Big Red, you tell us?”

The girl’s exceedingly red mouth was reset out of its perpetually sullen pout into a grimace of distaste. “For a virtual nobody, you sure have a mouth on you, Emily Strange.”

There were four rules Jughead Jones instinctively followed whenever he chose to speak: Was he being rational? Was he being truthful? Were his words necessary? Were they kind? Often times, if he had not met all of his criteria, Jughead would settle on keeping his silence a while longer.

This, was not such a time.

“Is that all you can do,” Jughead found himself rasping out, “try your utmost to diss people with painfully obvious references? You’re not doing a very good job, are you?”

“You’re a pretty cool customer, huh?”

“I hide my inner pain underneath a stoic visage,” Jughead quipped. Cheryl Blossom looked like would like nothing more than to dig her claws red-tipped into Jughead’s stoic visage.

“Hey, guys,” said a guy in corduroy slacks and a blue-yellow varsity jacket of all things; he was average-height, but with a Heroic Build identifying him as James Potter material. There was a hint of admonishment in his tone, but not enough to reign anyone in. “We’re supposed to be getting along…”

Jughead was utterly unsurprised when he was promptly ignored.

Big Red sneered down on them and with a snazzy flip of gloriously red hair, pointedly perched on the corner of the oval table. Then, she extended a bedazzled with a shape of a cherry phone Jughead didn’t realise she held in front of her on a selfie-stick, and with that godawful pout, began, “See, my lovely cherries, when presented with a choice between either Tim Burton Junior and his blonde Fran Bow or a ginger Kelly Clarkson, Cheryl Bombshell has no choice but to choose herself. I certainly hope their acting is better than their personalities because those are as parched as a dry spell.”

“Oi, Cherry Bomb!” a female producer barked sharply, the one with pink-striped hair and a punk attitude, “don’t fucking live blog a closed script reading, you imbecile!”

“Don’t call me that!” Cheryl Blossom snarled, teeth unnaturally white against the vivid red of her mouth. “How are my cherries supposed to know what I’m doing at any given moment if I don’t blog about it?”

“I don’t know,” Jughead grumbled, too low to be heard by anyone but Sabrina, who promptly elbowed him in the ribs, “maybe try not to seek validation from a faceless mass of people online?” said the kettle to the pot, he mentally added.

The woman with the pink hair was even shorter than Cheryl, but when she stood up, she cut an impressively intimidating figure nonetheless. “This,” she growled, “is what we get for casting a bloody Instagram starlet.”

“She’s a solid choice, Toni,” Keller admonished, softly, gingerly prying away her fingers off his bicep, “she can act and her hair is iconic. What more could we ask for?”

“A fucking professional attitude for one. And maybe,” Topaz, that was her name, Jughead finally remembered, pointedly shouted in red-head’s direction, “not to always pout like she’s about to suck dick.”

Cheryl Blossom looked up from the highly-focused examination of her razor-sharp talons she’d been performing and pouted. “I don’t suck dick on sheer principle, you grotsky little byotch.”

Varsity Jacket raised his hands in placation. “Okay, seriously, maybe you should—”

“Toni, go smoke a fag and find your chill,” cut in Keller, and her hand immediately shot up, giving him the middle finger, but she left the room nonetheless. “And Cheryl, take it down a notch. I’m serious, you hear me?”

Cheryl turned away from him with a huff, but she hadn’t said anything. Instead, she began typing away furiously on her phone.

Huh, thought Jughead.

Kevin Keller was not a tough guy, he noticed, he did not have a commanding presence. Even Varsity Jacket drew more attention to himself with his ridiculous floppy hair, freckled face, and All-American attitude. But, Jughead decided, Kevin Keller understood women. With that in mind, Jughead settled back in his chair, reading over the script yet again.

It was fifteen minutes later when Toni Topaz strode into the room, her combat boots practically abusing the dotted, grey linoleum with the force of her steps, not looking an iota less stressed. “Fuck it,” she announced, “if we wait anymore for those two, we’ll get behind schedule.”

“All right, then,” Keller said, clapping his hands, “places, everyone.”

Like the asshole she was, Sabrina took the seat assigned to him, next to Varsity Jacket, and switched their name planks with a wink. Jughead had neither the inclination nor the naiveté to question her choices, so he dragged the chair he had been sitting for the last half-an-hour towards the table by its back, and positioned himself on Sabrina’s left, straightening the SIRIUS BLACK plaque so it was uniformly aligned with all the others.

The plague before a lounging Cheryl Blossom did not read BITCH FROM HELL, much to Jughead’s surprise, instead, it said — LILY EVANS.

A thought streaked across the forefront of his mind: We are all royally fucked.

Varsity Jacket’s named turned out to be Archie Andrews. Jughead knew that now because the first words out of that kid’s mouth were, quite literally, “Hey, there. I’m Archie Andrews, I’m eighteen, you may know me from last year’s 16 Birthday Wishes, and I look forward to working with ya all.”

Jughead could not have conjured this kid up had he even tried. He shared a concerned glance with Sabrina who mouthed, is he for real? and Jughead only had the energy to shrug. Yeah, he decided, he could see this Archie Andrews as one James Potter. If he squinted.

Cheryl Blossom did not introduce herself. She scowled at all of them, even poor golden retriever puppy personified Andrews, called them philistines, and proceeded with reading her lines. Interesting development: she could act. Expected conclusion: she packed too much malice into her lines and came of ass passive aggressive. Keller had to intermediately correct her. That was, however, a correctable quality she could redeem herself from with enough effort; or so Sabrina had said, Jughead’s inescapable, little-devil-on-the-shoulder-type expert on all things acting™.  

When it was his turn to read, Jughead did what he always did when he read out loud his scripts during editing: tried his damndest not to stutter, keeping his voice smooth and even, and detached himself from the situation, rendering himself utterly impervious to nerves and apprehension. It was not Jughead Jones who had been reciting the script from memory as the lines printed on paper streamed before his eyes in a confusing, maddening swirl — it had been Sirius Black doing all those things; teasing his friend James, flirting with prim and proper Lily, arguing with Narcissa.

Disassociating might have kept Jughead’s anxiety at bay, but it made Sirius Black come alive.

So, of course, once Jughead had gotten into the swing of things, the universe rained on his parade: the door slammed open, revealing two girls standing on the other side of its frame.

“Oooops,” said the shorter one, her dark hair reflecting light attractively as she stode in the room. She had not sounded particularly sorry, Jughead noticed. “Apologies, hadn’t meant to barge in quite so—”

“Veronica,” Toni cut in, as bitingly as a wolf, “you were supposed to be here half-an-hour ago!”

“That late, huh,” muttered Veronica assumingly Lodge, flipping her wrist to check the slim, diamond-encrusted watch on her left hand. “Apologies, Toni, darling, but L.A. traffic is simply odious, as you well know. Got held up.”

“By what — appearance of abominable snowman in the middle of Franklin Avenue?”

“Not quite,” Veronica replied, a sly not-quite smile settling on her face, “Betty and I—”

“Of course, you had hamstrung Cooper, too.” Toni cast a dirty look over Veronica’s shoulder at a willowy, nervous-looking blonde still hesitating in the doorway. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you there, princess.”

“Well, as I was saying, Betty and I,” continued Veronica Lodge, bulldozing over Toni completely and out of the corner of his eye, Jughead could see Call Me, Archie Andrews’s jaw unhinge a little, “were late completely by accident, but it was all my fault. Let’s just say, a Lodge doesn’t always land on their feet.

“Still, I had to amend such an insufferable grievance,” Veronica smiled, charmingly, still sly as a fox. “Imagine how tickled pink I was to learn we are not only headed into the same building, but for the same script reading—”

“To which you are late; both of you,” grumbled Toni, but she seemed to have lost most of her heat. Kevin was rubbing her shoulders soothingly as she massaged her temples. Momentarily, Jughead wondered if she was prematurely grey beneath all that pink dye.

“—long story, short: Betty here,” Veronica said, stepping back and drawing the taller girl into her side. “Is my new BFF and I love her to pieces.”

“From a five minute meeting,” Kevin asked, corner of his mouth twitching.

“Boo, you whore,” teased Veronica, earning an unexpect snort from Sabrina, “it’s love at first sight. Don’t judge.” Then:

“You there,” Veronica snapped her fingers in the direction of a fish-eyed assistant Jughead took care to ignore — she’d been making moon-eyes at him, according to Sabrina, and there were times to be wary of his cousin’s advice, but not in instances such as this one. “Fetch me a skinny venti white mocha, one shot, with two pumps of sugarfree vanilla, no whip — pronto. I can’t think clearly without my daily recommended injection of sugar and caffeine.”

Immediately, the situation dissolved into absolute bedlam as everyone clamoured for Ginger’s attention to place their coffee order, too. She’s a sly one, Jughead thought for the third time, smart, too.

Here was the thing about Jughead Jones: he was an objective observer of life, not an active participator. An introvert and a borderline misanthrope, he regarded the world from a safe distance of cool, clinical detachment — he watched and he recorded and he understood because he noticed enough to pay attention in the first place; he was perceptive, and he used this to his advantage. 

This girl, however, totally threw him for a loop.

And as if enticed by a magnetic pull, Jughead’s eyes drifted towards the leggy blonde to his right. The first thing he noticed her was this — she was uncomfortable. The second was that she was seemed nervous, displaced; and third — well, she was making her way towards him.

The girl was dressed in a diaphanous, intricately embroidered, sapphire-coloured blouse, and when she shifted to pull out her chair, Jughead could see her laced brassiere through the silk material. Unexpectedly, she sat next to him, across from a plaque reading REMMY LUPIN. She had a striking look — blue-eyed and golden-haired with a face like a porcelain doll’s; wide-eyed, lovely, and haunting in its stillness. I met a lady on a moore, Jughead though, aureate hair, refulgent eyes; a dancing, starry sprite.

“Hi,” she greeted, turning to him, face splitting into a blooming, honeyed smile, white teeth gleaming, the streaming sunlight from the window behind them set her braid into a molten blaze, “I’m Betty.”

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THE DREAMER:

“Three creams, two splenda, please.”

Betty Cooper was already running (hopefully, fashionably) late; not exactly a good first impression. She had woken up behind schedule (she had sort of fallen into the black hole that was Tumblr, recently, and had taken to staying up late); her cat, Caramel, had thrown up all over the kitchen floor. One side of her hair had dried flatter than the other — she was never going to bed straight from the shower ever again. And her uber had been running behind. Fantastic, she had uttered when finally arriving at the address given. The time on her phone alerting her that she should would have been inside already, had her morning gone accordingly, sipping on her coffee without a care in the world.

Well, that last bit was a stretch. If you asked anyone who knew her, they would say without a doubt that, Betty Cooper cared too much, about everything.

It was kind of her thing, though. Betty had a profound sense of perseverance and applied it to anyone in need of help that she came across. Polly (her older sister and recently, albeit somewhat regrettably, her manager) akined it to her being like a new mother, babying her fresh-faced ducklings. It often impeded her own desires and well-thought out plans.

Betty was a goner for a schedule. She could plan her day like nobody’s business — rarely did it ever actually go according to plan though. She would describe herself as being meticulous bordering the edge of perfectionist — Betty actually detested that word. Being in control of the situation, however, gave her life.

This was all new to her though, at least, fairly. Acting, that is.

She had been on edge of booking a flight back to San Francisco for what seemed like months. With only $200 to her name, and a can of cold soup sitting like a rock in her belly, Betty had auditioned for a role in Magic is Might. She had been failing auditions for months, her savings account was gone, and she was exhausted from working two menial jobs in order to have money to even go to auditions.

So, by all accounts, Betty figured an extra boost of caffeine was in order to make it through the whirlwind day that had been plotted ahead. A table read with her cast mates of Magic is Might, who she had yet to meet, was slotted for the whole day. As well as some promotional pictures of the group. The whole thing came together rather quickly for an HBO show, as she understood. Betty would be forever grateful that they hadn’t found anyone for the part of Remus Lupin yet.

Somehow, her name had been misspelled (she wanted to glare at Polly) and they thought it had said Elizander, on her papers. Whoever had been manning the audition hadn’t done a thorough look-through at the time and had barely looked up at her, just shooed her through the door. They seemed desperate.

To be fair, she hadn’t realized that the part of Remus was male. Of course, she had read the Harry Potter books, who hasn’t? But Polly had simply implored her to get her ass to this audition, without much else to go on.

Everyone had stared at her when she entered the room, but the guy in the middle of the group seated before her had stood up, planting his hands on the table with a loud smack.

“Excuse me, this isn’t —”

“No, excuse me, but that was incredibly rude.” A blush bloomed across her chest, streaking upwards, despite her outward display of confidence. “I’m here to audition, so let me audition before turning me away.”

It turns out that the man was Kevin Keller, one of the showrunners. Betty had desperately wanted to curl into a ball from mortification when she found out, but instead she had been engulfed in a hug while he had exclaimed “Such fire!”, and had let her do the audition.  

They had complimented her afterwards. Apparently she had an inner voice that matched Remus’s suppressed darkness à la werewolf unequivocally. They were going to change the character and rework the script for her. Betty was unperturbed usually, but she had been floored by their sentiments.

Now, granted, they had done the same thing for the character of Snape, but that was for Veronica Lodge — ex-disney starlet who had bowed out of the limelight for several years only to return and turn everyone’s heads when she demanded the part of Severus Snape.

Betty mussed her life was going to be very different from here on out (assuming the show gets picked up after the contingent episodes), but she was looking forward to not cringing every time they ran her card through a register. She loved food, and coffee was a vice she wasn’t willing to give up.

In L.A. there seemed to be a Starbucks on just about every godforsaken block, so she had been thankful there was one conveniently close to the building she was now ardently walking toward. Betty was practically jogging as she took a sip of her drink, the mouthful of cold coffee was sweet and creamy. It was really refreshing — had she not just spilled it all over her shirt when someone plowed into her shoulder, jarring the cup from her hand.

Betty had stood frozen in place, her muscles turning tense as she panicked. Of course she had worn her favorite outfit today. Her pale pink sweater was now sticking to her skin uncomfortably, but thankfully there were only a few drops on her jeans — the dark color of them would prevent a stain from being noticeable, but her sweater…

“Oh my god, fuck, I am so sorry.”

Betty looked up from where she was still staring at her coffee soaked front, hand crushing the now empty cup. She blinked owlishly at the girl who had spoken. A dark haired girl with an equally empty cup, however stain free clothes — impeccable, by the way, in front of her. Small hands covered in white lace gloves (really? The urge to roll her eyes was strong) were reaching out for her and grabbing hold of her arm, gently albeit forcefully. Betty had no choice but to be tugged along and out of the path of the ravenous L.A. goers on the sidewalk.

“It’s… fine, really,” Betty hadn’t wanted to use the word, but there wasn’t anything else on the tip of her tongue. “I’m running late to my read through anyway, I should —”

Veronica interrupted her, raising her impeccably arched brows even higher. “Read through? As in, script?”

Nodding, Betty looked up to the tall glass front building they were almost in front of. She had been so close…

“Well, I think we’re headed to the same place then. Veronica Lodge,” the raven haired girl extended her glove covered hand and Betty raised her hand that wasn’t a sticky mess to shake it. Veronica continued, “pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off and Betty interjected.

“Betty Cooper.”

“Betty, allow me to offer you a new blouse, I simply can’t let you in there like that.”

Betty had started to shake her head, fingers itching to reach up and tighten her ponytail, but alas, she realized, she had worn her hair in a loose braid that brushed the edges of her collarbone. “No, that’s okay, you don’t have to do that.” she waved a hand, tossing her empty cup into the trash bin they had stopped by.

“I insist. Come,” it wasn’t up for debate anymore, that white glove grabbing Betty’s wrist again and pulling her toward a sleek black car that was parked some spaces down. “Don’t worry about being late, if we both are then they really can’t do anything about it.“

Betty was surprised that the words didn’t sound pretentious coming from the other girls mouth, but humble. Veronica had pulled her inside the car, instructing her to pull the door closed. She hesitated before doing so, the door shutting with a soft click. She never thought being in a car alone with Veronica Lodge would ever be on her agenda, but here she was, with a collection of delicate tops spread over their laps that were distinctly not at all Betty’s style.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Her green-blue eyes examined the choices carefully, taking in the price tags still dangling from them. Her throat was dry, her swallow surely audible. Everything was more-than-her-rent expensive. Plucking the one with the smallest numbers up, a transparent (okay maybe she had made a mistake here…) sapphire-blue blouse with colorful embroidered flowers, “This one is great,” she smiled at Veronica.

“Oh, excellent choice. Can’t go wrong with Derek Lam 10.”

She scrunched her nose up, fingering the material. Veronica had leant back against the seat, arms crossed expectantly. Betty glanced around to the car windows. “You want me to change here?”

“I expect you too, yes.”

Betty sucked in a breath of courage and peeled off the stained sweater. Thankfully, her white (unlucky, she had decided) lacy bralette would be suitable underneath the barely-considered-a-shirt. She felt Veronica’s dark eyes on her, watching as she slipped the garment on over her head. Betty tugged it down gently, it only hit the top waist of her jeans.

Veronica reached out a hand to snap the price tag off, tossing it into the empty front seat. “There, oh you have to keep it, it looks perfect on you.”

The blonde smoothed a hand down her somewhat exposed stomach, wishing she were thinner or more toned. “Sure. Thanks, Veronica.”

“You’re quite welcome, darling. Nothing bores friendship quicker than the sharing of clothes and gossiping over boys. So one down, one to go.”

Betty couldn’t help the smile blooming across her face at Veronica’s words. She could use a friend. L.A. had been a lonely place the past two years, which did nothing to help her anxiety.

“Of course, I’m looking forward to it. We’ll be spending a lot of time together after all.”

The other girl smiled back, tucking glossy black hair behind her ear. “Indeed, we might as well make the best of it.” she paused, checking the fancy was fastened around her delicate wrist. “We are incredibly late now, darling. We had better hurry along before Toni sinks her teeth into us.”

Betty nodded, climbing out the car door as gracefully as she could with shaking hands. Veronica had saddled up to her side, linking their arms together as they walked. Feeling a burst of adoration for the girl Betty felt she had wrongly judged in the past (she grew up watching Disney channel, after all) she vowed not to judge any of the other actors based on the same principle.

The ease of being by Veronica’s side made her nerves calm until they were in front of the appropriate conference room door. A wicked smirk graced the raven-haired girl’s features and she disentangled their arms. A dainty platform heeled foot kicked the door in with surprising force for such a small girl.

It had Betty stepping back, hiding away from the doorframe a ways, eyes darting around the room and taking in the scene. It looks like they had already started the read through, and the ball of nerves in her stomach started to grow again.

She did not think it would ever leave her.

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tbc.

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#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fandom #betty x jughead #jughead jones #betty cooper #jughead x betty #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fic #bughead fam #bughead fanfic #ao3fic #wip #harry potter au ish #what i'm writing #a song of smol bean and tol bean

[izzyisamachine]

A Scathing Review of Descendants 2

Confession: It’s not like I hated this movie, I was just kinda frustrated and had to rant about it? No hate if you really loved this movie. Also this review has Swears™ and is completely 100% Unedited™. Sorry. Also, spoilers are here so that’s fun.

To preface this review, I don’t think I’m this film’s target audience. That is to say, I’m old enough to be embarrassed by current affairs and the state of my bank account. But I’ve always been into that good good fairy tale shit, so when I heard Disney was making a kids movie about some of their most popular (and profitable) characters, I went, “seems legit,” ignored the similarities to Mattel’s “Ever After High” franchise (I’m a sucker for fairy tale shit okay and this stuff’s free on Youtube) and hunkered down to watch. Descendants The First was… not what I’d call good per se, but it was good enough. It was a little dull, the costumes oozed kitsch that made my eyes really want to cry, and every supposedly “well known” character from Disney’s pantheon seemed a little “off” (which wasn’t really anyone’s fault, since I was expecting everyone to look like a cartoon), but ultimately it was competent. There was a plot, the pacing was decent, and there were a couple bops thrown in, since the director of Descendants also did High School Musical. This is an assessment of the first Descendants movie that I think is valid, mainly because I’ve watched a couple of reviews on film theory on Youtube, meaning that I’m a fucking expert now I guess.

But we ain’t here to talk about Descendants the first. We’re here to talk about it’s sequel, Descendants 2. Oh ho ho. Descendants 2.

Lemme start with some good stuff: the outfits definitely got a lot better, the new characters introduced are pretty cool (Uma, daughter of Ursula, and Harry Hook, self explanatory. I don't really fuck with Gil though? He’s okay I just don’t really care about him), and there are still some mf’ing bops (mainly, Uma’s intro number “What’s My Name”, and that other one where the kids try to teach Ben how to stop being so fucking white I forgot what it’s called but whatever). I understand also why a lot of people are saying this movie is the better of the two Descendants films. It’s got some good character development, and, according to some review I saw online, it’s “darker” than the first film. I don’t really remember the first film all that well so I guess I have to go along with that. But I still have major beef with the second film so here we fucking go:

DESCENDANTS 2 MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE.

Not as a standalone movie, not in the context of the movie’s universe, not in like, any scenario ever.

So like first of all: the whole point of the first movie was that Prince Ben, aka generic blonde love interest (GBLI), decides that the villain kids, or VKs, as they call themselves (I know, cringe barf), deserve a chance. So, despite the advice of like, everyone, he invites the kids of Maleficent, Jafar, the Evil Queen, and Cruella de Vil (??? Why the fuck is she here she doesn’t even have any magical powers that need to be contained??? They could have let her kid get adopted by someone instead of leaving him to rot on Evil McEvil Islandsville???) to come to his high school (another thing: is he the prince of the school, or the prince of the whole country?? Because we literally never see anything not within walking distance of this fucking prep school. Is there an Auradon public school where the kids of like… side characters go?) to go hang at his school. And surprisingly (to no one in the audience), they turn out to be Productive Members of Society™ who were just Misunderstood™ (after an adjustment period where they fuck everything up for a while). At the beginning of the movie, Prince GBLI turns into King GBLI. Why? I don’t fucking know. His parents are still alive AND his dad is only like… 50? At most? Why the fuck is he retiring so early??? In this economy? My dad’s like pushing 60 and still working??? What kinda bourgeoisie fuckery is this?

So. Anyway.

What is King GBLI doing with his time?

Is he improving infrastructure? Attending to foreign affairs? Or maybe, I dunno, extending his villain kid outreach program past 4 fucking people?

No. This bitch plans a party. Specifically, he plans fairy tale character prom, or “Cotillion.” Whatever.

So of course, some villain kids are (understandably) pissed about being forgotten. Specifically, one kid named Uma, played by China Anne McClain. Uma is a fucking queen. She’s cool. I like her and her pal Harry. Not Gil though. He’s the son of Gaston and I don’t really get why he’s there. But he’s okay I guess. But anyway, like a muthafucking communist boss, she’s like “Imma overthrow the bourgeoisie!” So she plans to get the fairy godmother’s magic McGuffin wand so she can reverse the social hierarchy and bring justice to the oppressed. I fuck with that. It’s understandable. Basically, King GBLI decided to pick a bunch of random villains to bring to the prep school that he's somehow king of, and forgot about literally everyone else. What a dick.

But meanwhile, King GBLI’s girlfriend Mal, the “hero” of our story (jk, it’s Uma. I love Uma) decides that she’s had ENOUGH of playing perfect girlfriend and wants to go back to being villainous Maleficent’s daughter again. So she packs up her shit, including her own personal McGuffin, her magic spell book that she somehow can’t perform magic without (did she not think to memorize the spells she uses really often or is that book the source of all her power? Whatever, the movie never fucking explains this so I won’t even try), and fucks on off to Evil McEvilsville (or the “Isle of the Lost”. Whatever.) Here, she gets a dramatic dye job and basically does whatever the fuck she wants while her friends worry about her.

Her friends find out she’s missing and follow her to the isle, taking the most inconspicuous vehicle they can find: a magic barrier breaking limousine. Sorry, did I say most inconspicuous? I meant least inconspicuous. Then, Uma kidnaps GBLI and is like, “hey. You forgot about us and thats not cool.” To which he’s like, “well I remember you now so that’s like, totally enough to make you good now, right?” To which she, understandably, is like, Bitch No. SO THEN, she tell Mal that if she ever wants to see GBLI again, she has to bring her fairy godmother’s Magic McGuffin™. The Gang™ tricks her with a 3D printed wand (what fucking century does this movie take place in I’m confused), and fucks off back to their super cool party. BUT WAIT! MAL HAS LEFT HER MCGUFFIN SPELL BOOK ON THE ISLAND! WHAT HAPPENS NOOOOOOWWW????

This is where the movie really starts to piss me the fuck off. You see, in film theory, there’s a little thing called “planting and payoff.” Basically, when the camera focusses on a specific object in detail, you expect to see that shit pop up later on. Example: if you see some guy holding a suitcase and then the camera pans to the suitcase, you expect it to be germane to the plot later on. So the assumption with Descendants 2 is: Uma finds Mal’s spell book and confronts her at the party thing. She then uses Mal’s only source of power against her. Since Mal has never been seen doing any magic without her spell book, she would now be powerless and have to find a way to do magic without it through an 11th hour power up or else use her wits and the help of her friends to retrieve her spell book and save the day. Instead, Uma seduces (I know it’s a kid’s movie so there’s no actual seducing but I dunno what else to call it) GBLI through a spell that she did NOT get from the spell book. Which Mal breaks easily with true love’s kiss, because this is a fairy tale movie. Then, Uma kinda uses her magic necklace (that’s here now) to grow huge and splash the prom boat. Lame. My prom was also on a boat. Double lame. And everyone on the boat acts super scared because now there’s water in it!… but no like holes, so the deck’s just a little wet and maybe the boat tilts a little. Everyone just kinda stands on the deck instead of getting below deck like a group of normal people and acts surprised that it’s tilting back and forth. No shit buddy! There’s a giant tentacle lady who’s angry at you in the water! What did you think was going to happen? Then Mal fucking TURNS INTO A DRAGON for some reason. And she fights Uma by blowing fire at her. In the middle of the ocean. Which has like, no effect because Mal just really really likes aiming like, three feet in front of Uma into the water. And water kinda does this thing where it puts out fire? I dunno maybe she should work on aiming better or something or find something more useful to transform into. Anyway, GBLI jumps into the water like an IDIOT and is like “Why can’t we be friends?” To which Uma is like, “what the fuck man.” Understandable. But then she just, like

GOES AWAY?

My girl just decides to fucking leave for some reason what the fuck she could have easily won whatever the fuck that battle was and 5 minutes in she just WALKS AWAY??? This whole battle scene just savors of anti-climax. Kinda like a faked orgasm. And then they FIND MAL’S SPELL BOOK BELOW THE DECK??? AFTER EVERYTHING IS OVER??? WHAT THE FUCK??? Y’all lead me to believe it’s a salient plot point and now this shit? And then Mal decides to give her book to a museum because it’s “too dangerous.” What the fuck? No one in this movie did anything remotely dangerous with that fucking book? And then GBLI has obviously learned his lesson. Because he decides to admit one (1, uno, yi, une) more villain kid to the prep school. Because one of the other villain kids, Evie (who I kinda overlook in this review even though I kinda like her), literally asks him point blank. And then everyone dances in the rain like they haven’t learned an important lesson about social class and what the lack of opportunities to underprivileged youths can mean for society.

Fuck.

#descendants 2 #descendants #uma #i'm sorry if you liked this movie? #i know a lot of people did #i just #have a lot of feelings about it #spoilers

[spookierswamp]

@questforsims tagged me in this questionnaire thing bc he knows they’re my favorite lmao, answers under the read more....

DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED? I'm literally terrified of people who can sleep with closet doors open like... do you fear nothing...?

DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS? nah I usually end up using them all lmao

DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT? untucked

HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE? not a street sign I guess but one time when I was 15 I was recovering from a party at a friends house in the middle of like, the Scottish nowherseville countryside and like 6am that morning we went out to take a walk and smoke and we ended up taking one of those roadworks signs back to her house for some reason... it was dumb lmao

DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT NOTES? heck yeah there's a wall in my room that's just post-it notes lmao it calms me

DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM? we don't rly have coupon culture as much here but I probably would if I lived in America...

WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES? they don't allow you to have bees in here

DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES? no and thank goodness bc if I had freckles I'd be... too cute.... too powerful

DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES? like... in group photos sure but if it's a selfie I almost never smile lmao

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? loud/messy eaters tbh

DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK? yeah I used to go on long hikes/walks in the forest and I'd be out for hours and like I'd take one of those pedometers w/ me and I'd feel so fuckin validated when I saw it get to 10,000 lmao...

HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS? y'all foolin if you been out in the woods and you said you haven't tbh

HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS? ok this is gross nevermind

DO YOU EVER DANCE EVEN IF THERE’S NO MUSIC PLAYING? nah but if you put a bop on i'll immediately start dancing

DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS? part of me is like 'nah that's p gross' but yeah i probably do

HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK? just one lmao

WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED? like... it can fit me + another fully grown man so it's pretty big i guess

WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK? So Emotional by Whitney Houston

IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK? I literally wear pink every day of my life you stupid bitch

DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS? yeah but not like... with the intensity some of y'all do... i really liked Gravity Falls especially 

WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE? most disney movies tbh... I'll never get the appeal of them as a genre lmao... special shoutout to Ace Ventura: Pet Detective for being absolute fucking garbage though

WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME? I probably wouldn't even have time to hide it cause I'd immediately lose it somewhere lmao

WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER? honestly it depends on what dinner is? mostly I'll drink soda or wine

WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN? mustard, ketchup, bbq sauce, ranch

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? takoyaki! i also love any and all mexican food

WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE? there's literally... so many... lmao... Fire Walk With Me, The Birdcage, Scream, Wet Hot American Summer, Blair Witch Project, Donnie Darko, The Craft (like.. semi-ironically but I do love it lmao)

LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU? a boy but he's lame so he won't be named here lmao

WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT? nah I always thought boy scouts were dumb but as an adult I kinda wish I'd been a part of something like that

WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE? what kinda magazine....

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER? me and my ex-boyfriend used to write letters to each other all the time! so probably like, last year

CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR? nah, I've legit never even driven more than once lmao....

EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET? ... the one time I drove around it was in an abandoned parking lot and my then-boyfriend was sitting next to me with one hand on the steering wheel it was fun...

EVER RAN OUT OF GAS? .... i almost hit another car that was doing the same thing but i didn't and i was so proud of myself lmao

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH? meatball sub... or like.... steak & cheese

BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST? pancakes, coffee, hashbrowns and/or a breakfast taco, at least two kolaches

WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME? midnight or whenever i pass out after work

ARE YOU LAZY? yea

WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN? aw heck so many things! Vampires have always been a big thing for me tho and I was both Spike and Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer multiple times lmao

WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? I can never remember which one but either dog or pig

HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK? I can barely speak my first language lmao but I can bluff my way thru German and I've made half-assed attempts at learning Russian, Japanese and Icelandic before...

DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS? nah

WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS? legos you dumb bitch

ARE YOU STUBBORN? sure

WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN? whoms't?

EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS? British soaps are genuinely class but I never rly keep up w/ them, also telenovelas are amazing and important...

ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? nah I love heights! I was afraid of them as a kid but ask any of my friends/boyfriends and they'll tell you I'm always trying to get people to go to the top of stuff lmao

DO YOU SING IN THE CAR? only during inebriated night-time road adventures

DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER? pretty much constantly lmao

DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR? like... how?

EVER USED A GUN? honestly I've never even touched a gun lmao

LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER? uuh high school I reckon

DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY? yeah of course who doesn’t

IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL? very

EVER EAT A PIEROGI? no but it feels like my kind of shit

FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE? (dale cooper voice) cherry pie

OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID? painter or director, something artistic or whatever, maybe something with computers I always figured I’d be good at

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS? yeah I love ghosts they're all my good pals

EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING? yeah and I'll do things multiple times in a row just out of not paying attention lmao

DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY? yeah I take an A-Z multivit and cod liver oil usually

DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS? nah they make my feet too damn warm boy

DO YOU WEAR A BATHROBE? nah but when I'm a guest in a hotel w/ somebody I'm always claiming dibs on the complementary bathrobe lmao

WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED? if it's cold I'll wear like a t-shirt or something

WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT? I went to a bunch of festivals and free concerts and stuff as a tiny lil' baby ten year old but the first one I went to without parents was probably like... Fall Out Boy? or another band from my 2007 - 2009 emo phase lmao

WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART? the only thing I learned when I was in America was that Walmart is both haunted and cursed, Target is The Promised Land and Kmart is a sensory hallucination

NIKE OR ADIDAS? Adidas.... also I like the new adidas NHL kits sue me....

CHEETOS OR FRITOS? the first time I had Fritos it was with a bean dip and I almost barfed so definitely Cheetos lmao

PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS? both are gross whatever

EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN? no but they sound very good

EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS? nah

IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING? handsome genius/hockey player

CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? heck yeah

EVER WON A SPELLING BEE? I legit don't think we have those here but I definately would have if I competed because I was the best damn speller in my class

HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY? I laugh-cry more than anything tbh

OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS? nah I used to have a record player and I've bought a bunch of records as gifts for people but like I download all my music anyway so I'm 2 lazy 2 cheap lmao

OWN A RECORD PLAYER? ^

DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE? nah but I love candles

EVER BEEN IN LOVE? yeah but honestly once was enough lmao

WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT? literally one of my only goals in life is to see Bjork live before she quits music or I die lmao... also Math the Band (again), Anamanaguchi, Mac Demarco, The Mountain Goats...

WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW? not like a concert I guess but I went to see Kim Chi perform in February and it was lit

HOT TEA OR COLD TEA? like... Iced Tea? the way this is worded is disgusting lmao I'll go with hot tea

TEA OR COFFEE? I literally make coffee every single fucking day of my life @ work and like... not only do I now hate it I hate anyone who drinks it lmao

SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES? what the fuck does this mean

CAN YOU SWIM WELL? yeah!

CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE? yeah!

ARE YOU PATIENT? yeah!

DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING? I'm not the kind of person to have friends who are in bands and not ask them to play at my wedding lmao also wedding DJ's are always weird old men

EVER WON A CONTEST? yeah I've won like.. talent shows and stupid semi-academic shit like that but nothing super cool

HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY? nah but no question i'd absolutely get it

WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES? green

CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET? nah but i can kind of sew

BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE? every room but only if you live in a log cabin or some shit

DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED? yeah but like, not for the sake of being married? 

IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED? ^

WHO WAS YOUR HIGHSCHOOL CRUSH? aw man I threw a lot of time and energy into dating boys in high school but like... my biggest crushes were always unattainable and short-lived lmao so no-one notable...

DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY? god honestly any single one of my friends/previous boyfriends will tell you I throw tantrums over literally anything lmao... I usually act pretty stable and emotionally mature but when I'm comfortable with people I'll fuck shit up for no reason lmao

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? nah

DO YOU WANT KIDS? I'm way too self-centered and emotionally unavailable for any of that shit right now lmao but in like 10 years I'd be open to it for sure

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR? forest green, goth purples, black, pink, also what can only be described as like, Nickelodeon slime green

DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW? uhhhh pass

WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TAG TO DO THIS TAG NEXT? nobody! it's like, 100 questions long and I don't feel comfortable that tagging any of you won't be annoying lmao but if you wanna do this msg me and I'll tag you in it! ! ! ! 

#nonsims #questforsims #abt me

[terriblelifechoices]

Return of the comment fic

The glorious @flightinflame mentioned that Seraphina and Win would probably have a lot of fun traumatizing the International Confederation of Wizards while running the embarrassingly named operational maneuver leather and lace.  Aka, make them underestimate you, cause a distraction, hex them into the next county.

I thought about and decided, yes, yes they would have a lot of fun with that, and then this happened.  The original thread is on AO3 here, but I super did not stick the landing, so the better version is below the read more cut.

Early February, 1926, the Pentagram Chamber

"Madam President," said Hughes, demure and polite and the very picture of proper American witch-hood. Her dark hair was looped in its usual complicated series of braids, but she was wearing a somber navy blue dress that emphasized her hourglass figure rather than the breadth of her shoulders or the strength of her arms.

"Auror Hughes," Seraphina said, carefully neutral. There was something about the sight of Winifred Hughes in a dress that was faintly unnerving. She wondered how Percival dealt with it. "Attend," she commanded.

Hughes snapped to attention like a dog on the hunt, trailing obediently behind Seraphina and into the Pentagram Chamber. If she found it intimidating, it didn't show on her face.

The International Confederation of Wizards had been arguing for days now. Everyone wanted a chance at having Grindelwald within their jurisdiction, and that was going to happen over Seraphina's cold, dead and extremely hostile body. American Aurors had brought Grindelwald down, and he was going to stay in American custody until Seraphina was sure that wherever he was extradited to wouldn't fuck it up. (Seraphina was going to ignore Newt Scamander's involvement, because if she didn't, then she'd have to get involved in his creature-related mess and Seraphina wanted no part of that ulcer.)

"Madam President," one of the delegates began. "Grindelwald should be turned over to British authority. We can contain him, at Azkaban. He'll be no threat to anyone, there."

"Really?" Hughes drawled. "Are you sure about that? Or are you just so eager to suck Grindelwald's dick that it's making you fucking delusional?"

A resounding silence echoed around the Pentagram Chamber.

"Because the way I see it," Hughes continued, as brashly arrogant as Percival had been his first year at Ilvermorny, "is that the lot of you are fucking morons who let Grindelwald out of Europe and onto our side of the pond to cause trouble." She smiled, all teeth. "And now that we've got him in custody, the rest of you limp-dicked idiots want in on our collar."

"Auror Hughes!" Seraphina barked. "Stand down."

Hughes ignored her, exactly the way she was supposed to. "Sorry, boys. My boss is a bit softer on, well, the soft, than I'd like." She made an excessively crude hand gesture, leaving no room for doubt about what she was referring to.

Seraphina stifled a giggle. The British delegate looked like he was maybe three inappropriate comments away from having some kind of stroke and passing out.

"Madam President," said one of the other delegates, voice stiff. "If you cannot control your ... guest ... than I suggest you remove her from this discussion."

"Oh?" Seraphina inquired. "Does Auror Hughes make you uncomfortable?" She felt her lips curve up in a smile, sharp as the edge of a knife. "I wonder why that might be," she continued, conversational.

There was rather a lot of uncomfortable fidgeting in the audience. No one wanted to admit that a woman Auror made them feel uncomfortable. Not in front of a woman president.

Yes, Seraphina thought. This was going to be a lot more fun than Seraphina expected it to be.  

Madam Ya Zhou, the Chinese ICW delegate caught Seraphina’s eye and smirked, clearly enjoying the show.  She touched one of the strands of jade around her neck, activating the recording spell Seraphina knew was charmed into it.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Hughes inquired, grinning dementedly.  “Apologies.  I didn’t realize politics was a game for delicate fucking flowers like you fine gentlemen.  I always thought it was for, y’know, folks with big brass ones.”  Another crude hand gesture demonstrated the relevant portion of necessary brass anatomy.  “Boss, you been lyin’ to me about that?”

“Director Graves is your boss,” Seraphina reminded her.  “I am your boss’s boss.  Do try to remember that, Auror Hughes.”

Hughes bobbed her head.  She’d woven strands of crystal in her braids, and they sparkled distractingly whenever she moved her head.  Seraphina suspected they’d been charmed to draw the eye.  “Yes’m,” she said.  

One of the Scandinavian delegates smiled nastily at the mention of Percival.  “And how is dear Director Graves?” he inquired.  “I trust he’s recovering from his … ordeal.”

Seraphina kept her expression serene.  So.  Word had gotten out, then.  And now this petty little prick wanted to smear Percival’s reputation - to cast doubt on MACUSA’s Aurors and challenge their competence.  Was it to make a case for removing Grindelwald into someone else’s custody, or was it personal?  Percival had made enemies on MACUSA’s behalf his entire career.

On Seraphina’s behalf.

A hint of real anger crept into Hughes’ exaggerated facade.  “You got something you wanna say?” she asked.

“Of course not,” the Scandinavian delegate said.  “I’m simply impressed he survived so long in captivity.”  His tone implied exactly the opposite, but his words were above reproach - especially when compared to Hughes’ conduct.

“He’s a wizard, not a unicorn,” Hughes retorted caustically.  Her tone added the words you dumbass clearly enough for everyone in the Chamber to hear.  “What, you thought he was just gonna lay down and die in captivity?  No American Auror worth their salt dies that easy.  Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,” she reminded them.  It is sweet and fitting to die for your country.  

The official motto of MACUSA’s Aurors was ‘always stay vigilant.’  It was an echo of Britain’s ‘constant vigilance,’ since that was Josiah Jackson’s primary inspiration for his Auror corps, but the unofficial motto had always been dulce et decorum est pro patria mori dating all the way back to the original Twelve.  It was, according to legend, what Geraint Graves had said to President Jackson when he’d volunteered for Auror training, standing over his father’s corpse with the President’s apologies still ringing in his ears.

American Aurors knew their duty, and frequently died for it.  The same could be said of the rest of the world’s Aurors, but the rest of the world’s Aurors tried not to make it a habit.  MACUSA’s Aurors treated it as a matter of fact.  MACUSA had the highest death rate in the world for Aurors, but each and every one of them had earned their phoenix feather in the hall of fame.

And Hughes had just reminded them of that.  That had to sting, Seraphina thought, watching the other delegates for signs of weakness.  There were too many new faces - Grindelwald had done a lot of damage in Europe, and it showed - but she took note of which ones looked angry and which ones looked ashamed.

“That’s all very well and good,” the Scandinavian delegate said, “but Director Graves didn’t exactly follow through on that, did he?”

Seraphina put Hughes under Petrificius Partialis before she could break the Scandinavian delegate’s neck and cause an international incident.

The Scandinavian delegate was small potatoes.  He was a petty thug, more concerned with winding Hughes up than he was with the potential prize of successfully slandering Percival’s reputation.  Madam Ya Zhou looked a bit disappointed that her recording of today’s events wouldn’t include actual bloodshed.  None of the delegates Seraphina actually knew had betrayed any reaction that was out of the ordinary.

Seraphina waited.  It was odd, wasn’t it, that the German delegate was the first one to lend support to the British delegate’s demand that Grindelwald be transferred to Azkaban.  That sort of political maneuvering was meant to curry favor, but who with?  The British?  Or Grindelwald?

The Scandinavian delegate never noticed that she was a threat.  Neither did the German one.  

Seraphina kept her serene expression, hiding her fangs the way a proper Horned Serpent should.  It was all very well and good for Wampus’ like Percival and Hughes to bare their fangs at everything and everyone who irritated them even a little, but a Horned Serpent knew better.

A Horned Serpent only bared her fangs when she was ready to strike

#my fic #comment fic #fbawtft #Seraphina Picquery #Win Hughes #Possible 'verse

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior Home Edition 4/7/20 – ENDINGS BEGINNINGS, ABE and More (Sorry. No MY SPY.)

Boooooo … this week would have been when the Tribeca Film Festival was supposed to start, but I barely had a chance to go through the movies that were gonna play there when COVID-19 hit, and it was quickly cancelled. Apparently, they’re doing some sort of online festival this week, but apparently, they decided to wait until Friday afternoon to tell press who had already applied that they needed to reapply by Monday morning. If you didn’t receive or see this important Email, and I didn’t, then you were basically fucked in terms of covering the festival. That being said, this will be only the second time in 17 years that I didn’t cover Tribeca, and since they won’t even respond to Emails trying to fix this, I guess that means we’re done here. 

This was also the week when, at one point, Universal/DreamWorks Animation’s Trolls World Tour was supposed to open but I saw it last week via screener and liked it more than the first movie. I tweeted about it here:

https://twitter.com/EDouglasWW/status/1248685996612489217

Of course, STX’s My Spy was gonna open this weekend after many delays and that now will be streaming on Amazon instead, so that’s just the way things seem to be going. Who knows when any of us will have any sort of box office to report on, especially with AMC filing for bankruptcy and possibly not making it until studios decide to release movies theatrically again? (The earliest possibility seems to be July at this point.)

This week’s Featured Movie is Drake Doremus’ new film ENDINGS, BEGINNINGS (Samuel Goldwyn), starring Shailene Woodley, who is quite fantastic as Daphne, a thirty-something L.A. woman – and honestly, having interviewed Woodley for Alexander Payne’s The Descendants, I have just as hard a time fathoming that she’s even closer to her 30s as I did believing 34-year-old Alexandra Daddario as someone in her 20s in last week’s We Summon the Darkness. Regardless, Daphne is trying to get over a heartbreaking break-up with a man who was also her boss, and she quickly gets into relationships with two men, Jack and Frank, played by Jamie Dornan and Sebastian Stan, who also happen to be friends, creating a tough love triangle.

The fact that Doremus opened this film with the Cocteau Twins was a good sign, and I do have to say that the music throughout the film is fantastic, but really, it’s more about Woodley and the fact that Doremus is returning to a more improvised style of filmmaking ala his earlier film, Like Crazy, which was one of my favorites. I do think that Woodley’s talent elevates her performance well above her male co-stars, who at times, frankly, I couldn’t keep track of which was which. (Dornan’s Irish accent gave it away most of the time.) But I liked how Doremus explores one woman trying to make decisions about her life and relationships, showing how hard it is to do that sometimes.

Endings, Beginnings is on Digital on Friday and then On Demand starting May 1. I honestly don’t know the difference between the two. I probably should figure it out, huh?

Another movie I quite enjoyed that’s on Demand and Digital this Friday is Brazilian documentarian Fernando Grostein Andrade’s first narrative feature, the family comedy ABE (Blue Fox Entertainment), starring Noah Schnapp (from Stranger Things), Seu Jorge, Mark Margolis and Dagmara Dominczyck. Schnapp plays 12-year-old Abe, a Brooklyn ‘tween and a diehard foodie with his own blog and desires to be a chef. His main goal in the year leading up to his Bar Mitzvah is to cook the perfect meal to bring his half-Jewish and half-Palestinian family together in harmony. He gets some helping learning the ropes from Seu Jorge as a Brazilian food cart chef who takes under his wing, but Abe has his work cut out for him as his grandparents and other relatives can never agree on anything.

Listen, this is a pretty simple premise but that helps make Andrade’s film so much easier to enjoy.  I feel that this is a movie that probably would have done quite well on the film festival circuit (when there was one) since it’s a crowd-pleasing film that gives a very different look into the Israel-Palestine conflict from a Brazilian outsider, as well as in the guise of a warm non-confrontational coming-of-age film that should appeal greatly to foodies. I actually liked Schnapp in this role, mainly because he’s surrounded by such solid actors, including one of my personal faves, Mark Margolis, as his Israeli grandfather. Abe is the type of movie that may have gone completely overlooked in any other environment but actually keeps your attention through its warmth and pleasing storytelling that can bring those going through these hard times a smile or two. It’s not exactly reinventing the wheel or redefining “cinema” but it’s a good film to watch with the family you may now be cooped up with. (Probably for kids around Abe’s age so 11 and up?)

Next up is That Evening Sun director Scott Teems’ THE QUARRY (Lionsgate), a thriller based on Damon Galgut’s novel, starring Shea Whigham as a drifter who kills a travelling preacher and takes his place in a smalltown while being under suspicion of the police chief, played by Michael Shannon. The movie also stars Oscar nominee Catalina Sandino Moreno, and with those three alone, I really wanted to like this movie, but it was really dull and never really got me interested in any of the characters, which is especially a shame since Whigham is such a good actor, but this movie just didn’t do anything for me… at all.

Available now via VOD and on DVD/BluRay on April 28 is Tyler Cornack’s bizarre comedic (?) thriller BUTT BOY (Epic Pictures) -- co-written, directed and starring Cornack. To be honest, it’s the type of movie that is just too weird for its own good. I have to be honest that the movie’s title scared me, and if I read the actual premise beforehand, I might have been even more bothered about watching it then I was already just from the title. Okay, so Cornack plays Chip Gutchel, a married IT worker who becomes obsessed with anal probing after a proctology exam. A dog disappeared and then a baby but years later, a child disappears from Chip’s job, and the detective on the case (Tyler Rice), who is also being sponsored by Gutchel in AA, suspects that the missing child has gone up Gutchel’s … well, I don’t have to spell it out. This is one of those WHAT THE HOLY FUCK movies like The Greasy Strangler and Lemon that I immediately wondered (and apologies to the podcast of the same name) “How did this movie get made?!” While I felt the same way about the premise for the recent Swallow when I first learned about it, that movie was actually really good.  I knew as soon as it became obvious what was happening that I had absolutely zero need to watch a movie about a guy who is able to suck things up his own ass. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a competently-made genre film but as it became clearer and clearer where it was going, I was getting more and more queasy about the whole concept. So yeah, I wouldn’t recommend this to my worst enemy, and I’m guessing most people will feel the same but there’s a lot of boredom out there, so who knows?

Wow, that’s it? Four movies? Sheesh…

STREAMING AND CABLE

At this point, it almost seems silly to break this column down into sections ‘cause everything is gonna hit your computer and/or TV sets until theaters finally reopen. Note: I haven’t seen any of the movies or series below.

Streaming on FX on Hulu Wednesday (today!) is the new mini-series Mrs. America, starring Cate Blanchett as Phyllis Schlafly, “the sweetheart of the silent majority,” a woman who is fighting back against women like Gloria Steinem (played by Rose Byrne!) and others who were pushing for the ERA (Equal Rights Amendment) in the 70’s. The amazing cast includes Margo Martindale, Uzo Aduba, Elizabeth Banks, Tracey Ullman, “sweetheart of FX” Sarah Paulson, Melanie Lynskey and yes, there is at least one man, played by John Slattery. The showrunner is Dahvi Waller from Mad Men, too, so this should be an entertaining watch, and I’m definitely on board.

Lots of stuff on Netflix this week but not necessarily anything that’s been on my radar, like the new docu-series, The Innocence Files, which is exec. produced and directed by a number of impressive filmmakers like Liz Garbus, Alex Gibney and Roger Ross Williams. Debuting on Wednesday (today!), it looks eight cases of wrongful conviction and what the Innocence Project has done to try to get their cases overturned. This is a subject that has really interested me, although I liked last year’s Brian Banks more than Just Mercy.  The Innocence Project is just such an amazing organization with what they’re doing to help those who can’t help themselves go up against the deeply injust criminal justice system, so this is definitely one I’ll be watching.

There are a few new features on Netflix on Friday, none of which I’ve seen but hopefully will be enticing viewing. The three new ones include the German film, Rising High, written and directed by Cüneyt Kaya, starring David Kross (not the comedian) as Viktor Stein and Gerry Falkand as Frederick Lau, two real estate moguls who get sucked into their wealth by defrauding the bank, losing sight of reality.

There’s also the French crime film, Earth and Blood (La Terre et Le Sange), from filmmaker Julien Leclerq about a sawmill owner named Saïd (Sami Bouajila) and his 18 year old daughter Sarah (Sofia Lesaffre) trying to sell his factory, not realizing that one of his apprentices hid cocaine in there, forcing father and daughter to face tough gangsters who want their drugs back.

Brazilian superstar Wagner Moura and Ana de Armas from Knives Out star in Greg Barker’s Sergio, a film about Sergio Viera de Mello, the UN diplomat who is ready to resign and spend time with his wife before he’s assigned to a mission in Baghdad just as the US invasion of 2003, and he’s crushed under a wall when a bomb blasts the UN headquarters.

Amazon Studios will be debuting Tayarisha Poe’s debut feature, SELAH AND THE SPADES, on Amazon Prime Video Friday. It takes place at Haldwell, an elite Pennsylvania board school run by five factions. It stars Lovie Simone as 17-year-old Selah Summer, who runs the most dominant group, the Spades, who caters to supply students with alcohol and pills. As tension builds between the factions, Selah’s right hand BFF Maxxie (Jharrel Jerome) has a new boyfriend, so Selah needs to find a new protégé.

Next week, more movies not in theaters!

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest!

#TheWeekendWarrior #EndingsBeginnings #MrsAmerica #Abe #ButtBoy #Movies #Reviews #Streaming #Digital #OnDemand

[firebendy]

Do all the ice cream flavor asks muahaha

chocolate: when was your first kiss?when I was 15 i think

french vanilla: how old are you?18

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to?Geneva, the Caribbean, Berlin

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?German!

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?idk does suave count

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?indoors

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?horn and mellophone

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?i really like Death of a Bachelor and Storms in Africa

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?uuuh Laughter Lines and most of Bastille’s most recent album

cheesecake: what's your zodiac sign?Gemini

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?the pool, sand is awful lmao

chocolate chip: what's your most popular post?Uh the one when I asked my band director for a solo by spelling out “solo?” with donuts

bubblegum: books or movies?movies are more entertaining but books tend to have better plots

pistachio: manga or anime?how about neither of those

salted caramel: favorite movies?Mulan and Emperor’s New Groove are up there

birthday cake: favorite books?The Age of Fire series by E.E. Knight are fantastic

moose tracks: favorites for manga?no

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?no

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?band lmao (but also creative writing is super super fun)

black raspberry: do you have any pets?I have a basset hound named Petunia and a cat named Leo and I miss both of them so much

mango: when and why did you start your blog?a few years ago?? idk why i think I was tired of seeing popular posts on Facebook so i made an account lmao

mocha: ideal weather conditions?sunny and warm if I’m gonna be outside, but gentle rain or lightning if it’s an inside kind of day

black cherry: four words that describe you?bad sense of direction

neapolitan: things that stress you out?when people crowd the elevator and use it to go up 2 flights of stairs when they are clearly capable of using the stairs bc they brag about using the elevator even thought they don’t need to and let me tell you it drives me up the fucking wall

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?indie i think??? or like pretty piano covers

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?Hershey is a pretty good brand (also whatever brand manufactures heath bars)

toffee: a card game that you're good at?none of them lmao but i like spoons

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?i try to, i really like breakfast food :)

dark chocolate: turn ons?a good sense of humor and messy hair and glasses

fudge: turn offs?being rude and loud and smoking cigarettes

peach: how do you relax?i wear pajama pants and fuzzy socks and make hot chocolate and wrap up in a blanket and watch tv :)

praline: a popular book you haven't read yet?uuuum the twilight series

superman: do you like sweaters?hell yeah sweaters are great

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?coffee!!

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?cello and piano

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?multiple times (i’ve also laughed so hard I peed lmao)

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?can it make the mobile app a little better maybe

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?the thomas sanders one he is so pure

almond: favorite mean girls quote?man this question isn’t fair there are so many good onesI guess “Don’t have sex. Because you will get pregnant. And die. Don’t have sex in the missionary position, don’t have sex standing up, just… don’t do it. Promise?”

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?plain and bitten off lmao

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?like have people told me secrets? i mean i guess

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?nope never not once in my life

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?i have them scheduled into my day

mint: the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?i went to disney and my friend made me laugh so hard i peed my pants it was awful

brownie batter: do you like sushi?nah

key lime: where do you want to be right now?home, but i’m content where i am

red velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?nope, i’ve got 20/20 vision

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?that coffee heath bar crunch flavor that one’s delicious