#we’re back in the era of warning selfies it seems | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Thank you so much for writing that last thing for me! Still haven't read it lol, but I got so excited when I saw it was canon era! Could you do "Merry Christmas, motherfuckers" or maybe "well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Thank you so much, and have the best day ever!

There are cuss words in this. Hospital stay, IV, stitches, staples and surgery are also warnings in this!

“You doing okay, Racer?” Spot asked, running a hand through his hair, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Race looked up at him, a wide grin on his face, despite the pain he was in.

Christmas this year wasn’t what they had anticipated but when did things go according to plan. Race had been in excruciating pain for most of Christmas Eve into the very early hours of Christmas morning. Spot had dropped their twins off at Jack and Kat’s before bringing Race into the ER, only to discover his appendix was inflamed and close to ruptering. The only time things had gone as expected was their wedding day, three years ago. Even their twins’ birth didn’t go according to plan - getting a call just as they were supposed to jump on a plane for a quick get away before becoming dads.

Spot smirked. “You’re not wrong; at least you’re not dead, yet. You’re going to have a simple surgery and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Stupid piece of skin that doesn’t have any use for anymore.” Race glared at his appendix, or where he thought it was located. “Stupid thing that got infected on our twins first Christmas and is close to busting.”

Spot shook his head. “It’s alright. Amelia and Beau won’t know the difference if we’re there or not. They’re safe with Jack, Kat, Ellie, and Aaron and probably have much more fun than we are.”

“It’s the semantics, Spottie. I’m a horrible parent because I’m not watching them play with their new toys and discover all the joys of the day.” Race threw his head back against the pillow, sighing loudly.

Getting out of his chair, he climbed into bed with Race, pulling him so his head landed on his chest. “Don’t beat yourself up, Race. There will be plenty of time for that as they get older. They’re 9 months old . . . they would’ve been playing with the boxes anyways. I’m sure they’re sound asleep right now, not a care in the world.”

Just as he said that, his cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. Pulling open his phone, he smiled at the photo Kat had sent over. “Hey, look at this.”

Kat had sent them a photo of the twins laying on the floor sound asleep, cuddling the stuffed animals Jack and Kat had gotten for them. “See, they’re fine and they don’t care that we’re not there.”

Nodding, Race ran his finger over the phone screen, smiling slightly. “Still it’s hard.”

“I know it is but like I said, at least you’re not dead.” Spot pressed a kiss to his head. “You’re going to kick this surgery’s ass and be back on your feet in a few days. Just think, you can order me around and wait on you hand and foot.”

Race flashed him a smile. “Something to look forward to.”

Spot smiled at that as a knock sounded at the door. A nurse poked her head in with a kind smile. “Mr. Higgin-Conlon?”

“Tony, please.” He nodded as she pushed open the door.

She smiled at the pair of them as Spot slid off the bed and stood beside it, gripping Race’s hand. “Tony, then. My name is Lina and I’m going to start preparing you for surgery.”

Spot turned her out as she started asking him questions about his health and medications. Every now and then he would feel Race squeeze his hand, and he would squeeze it back. There had been plenty of trips to the hospital in the seven years they had been together but this would be the first surgery for either of them. Logically, Spot knew Race would be okay but there was a tiny piece of him that was scared shitless that something would happen and he would be alone, living a life without Race.

The nurse finished quizzing Race and told them she would be back in a few minutes to take him down to surgery. Once the door was shut, Spot turned to Race, putting his forehead to his. “I need you to listen to me for the next few minutes okay?”

“O-okay.” Race’s voice was hesitant as he had never heard that forced voice that Spot currently had before.

“I love you, I am over the moon, batshit crazy about you. You need to pull through this because if you die, I will not be able to carry on. You’re my saving grace, my wide eyed soul and you give me so much strength. I cannot live in this world without you so Anthony Racetrack Higgins-Conlon, you kick the appendix’s ass and come back to me, you hear?” Spot’s chest heaved as he spat those words out.

Race reached up, hand behind his neck, putting his lips on Spot’s. A searing kiss was shared between the two of them before Race pulled back. “I love you too, pooks and I’m going to beat this. I’ve got too much life left to live and I’ve got at least two kids to watch grow up. You can’t get rid of me that quickly, Sean. I’ll see you in a few hours, handsome, and I expect you to give me a searing kiss, like the one I just gave you.”

Chuckling, Spot pulled him back in for another kiss, this time much more gentle. “I love you, snookums and I’ll be here as soon as they tell me I can come back.”

“Love you too.”

Just as the words left Race’s mouth, the door opened and the nurse came back in. “I apologize but it’s time for us to take Tony down. You can come down with us until we hit the last door.”

As they maneuvered the gurney out of the room, Spot kept pace with them, holding onto Race’s hand, squeezing it as they walked down the hallway. “I’m sorry but this is as far as you can go. We’ll give you a few seconds.”

They walked over to the side, giving them a bit of privacy. Spot leaned over to Race, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you and I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Love you too Spottie. Don’t fret too much.” Race kissed him once more, squeezing his hand before they pushed him beyond the doors.

The doors closed behind him with a loud slam as another nurse came up and smiled weakly at him. “You can wait in the surgical waiting room if you would like. Someone will come talk to you when Tony’s out of surgery.”

He flashed her a smile before following her down the hallway to the waiting room. She motioned inside as he pushed open the door. His eyes scanned the waiting room, another couple waiting along with an older lady. He took a spot in the corner, away from the door, pulling out his cell phone. He opened the text message with Kat, letting her know that they just took Race back.

Within seconds, his phone was ringing. “Hi Kat.”

“Hi Spot. How are you?” He could hear the tiredness in her voice.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m alright. They just took him back.”

“Do you want me to come down? I could leave Jack here with the kids and come sit with you.” She offered, as he heard something in the background of her phone.

“No, no you stay with the kids. Don’t leave Jack all alone - he might kill you if you did that to him.” He chuckled. “They said the surgery would be about an hour and half so I won’t be here long. I’m going to go down to the cafe and grab something since I’m not sure how long it’ll be before Race can have any food.”

“The kids are alright. Please don’t worry about them.” Kat said. “Let me know if you need anything and I can bring it up to you.”

He smiled. “Thanks Kat. Keeping the kids is more than enough. I’ll let you know when he’s out of surgery.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t stress . . . he’ll be alright.” She said as they hung up.

He tapped his toes as his eyes swept the room. The door opened as a doctor came to talk to the couple, guiding them from the room, leaving Spot and the older lady alone in the room.

Opening his phone, he went to his photos, starting at the beginning. The album had over 1,000 photos in it, everything from photos of them on dates to their wedding to newborn photos of the twins, and every moment in between. He smiled, as he flipped through every one of them, letting himself get lost in the memories.

He stopped on a selfie of the two of them and laughed, thinking back.

“Spot, come on Spot!” Race whined, giving him a look.

Returning his look, Spot looked at his boyfriend. “Why does Kat want us to take a selfie again? And who came up with the ridiculously stupid name - selfie?”

“Uh . . .” Race rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepishly. “Kat didn’t really specifically ask for a selfie . . . I just kinda wanted one of us.”

Spot looked amused, grinning at Race. “So you use your friend to get something that you initially want? Way to go.”

“So you’ll do it?” Race’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

Spot didn’t say anything, but pulled Race closer to him allowing him to take the photo. At the last minute, Race turned and kissed Spot’s cheek as the photo was snapped.

Swiping through a couple of new photos before stopping on one that made Spot smile brightly.

Tugging on his untied tie, Race needed something to do with his hands. Spot came over and grabbed his hands, pulling him closer to him. Spot made quick work of the tie, before pushing to his toes kissing Race. “Can you believe we’re getting married?”

“No.” Race grinned. “Seems like we’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now it’s finally here.”

Spot smiled, kissing him sweetly. “I’ll be at the end of the aisle waiting for you.”

Their photographer has snuck in and snapped the photo without either of them knowing it until they got all the photos back. He glanced at it once more before locking his phone. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed out of the waiting room, walking in the direction of the elevator. Pushing himself in the back corner, he watched as others joined them on the descend.

Getting off at floor two, the scent of food hit his nose as he followed it. He leisurely walked through the cafe, looking for anything that at least sounded good. He grabbed a sandwich and a bag of chips, checking out before finding a table by a window. Collapsing into the chair, he took a bite of his sandwich before looking out the window. The falling rain captured his mood perfectly - he felt like half of him was gone, and in reality that was true. He and Race had been joint at the hip since the day they became friends, people rarely saw one without the other.

He finished half of his sandwich, opting the throw the rest away. Grabbing the bag of chips, he headed back upstairs, hoping he hadn’t missed the doctor. Slipping back into the waiting room, he looked around realizing he was the only one in there. Settling back in his chair from before, he let his head drop back against the wall. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night due to the pain Race was in. He was up, soothing Race and giving him pain medicine trying to ward off whatever was happening.

He let his eyes slide shut, sighing. He heard the door open, cracking open an eye as he saw the nurse from earlier coming closer to him. “Sean?”

Sitting up, his eyes were wide as she looked at him. “I just wanted to let you know that Tony is out of surgery and in the recovery room. He did really well and he has a couple of staples in his stomach that will dissolve within a couple of weeks. We’ll come get you soon and you can see him. Do you have any questions?”

Shaking his head, Spot let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He smiled at her, watching her walk from the room, leaving him alone once more. Pulling out his phone, he quickly texted Kat and Jack giving them both an update.

The door opened once more, the same nurse poking her head in. “Sean? I can take you back to Tony now.”

Hopping to his feet, he noticed a pep in his step as he followed her back through the winding hallways to the recovery room. Pausing at the door, the nurse gave him a look. “He was awake a few moments ago when I came to get you but he’s groggy. He may not remember a whole lot from today but in a couple of hours he should be good to go.”

“Will he be able to go home tonight?” Spot asked, hopeful at having a little piece of Christmas with the family.

She bit her lip. “Though the surgery went well, we’ll have to see how he is. The doctor is hopeful that he’ll be discharged tonight but we’ll have to see.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Tony.” Spot smiled.

“You’re welcome. Please let us know if either of you need anything.” She pushed open the door. “Also, when he fully wakes up, please press the red button on the remote on his bed - but we’ll be around in the meantime.”

He nodded, walking into the open door and heading to the only bed in the room. His eyes swept Race’s as his chest raised and lowered. Other than the IV in his arm, Spot would’ve never thought anything was wrong. Well, until he looked at his stomach and saw the white gauze taped there.

Sitting in the chair, he laced his fingers with Race’s, squeezing them gently. “Hey you. You made it through surgery with flying colors. They’re not sure if you’ll be discharged tonight . . . guess they’re going to watch you and make sure you’re alright.”

Laying his head on the bed, he relaxed for the first time since late the night before. He listened to Race’s even breath and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

Some time later, he felt something in his hair but his arm was too tired to swat it away. Groaning, he cracked open an eye, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Closing his eyes once more, he felt something in his hair. Pushing himself up, he looked over at Race, who had a big grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How are you feeling?” Spot pushed himself to his feet, pressing a kiss to Race’s forehead, before sitting on the edge of the bed..

Shrugging, Race yawned. “A little sore but mostly groggy.”

Spot reached over and pressed the red button as he smiled at Race. “The nurse said you did really well. They’re not sure if you’ll be released tonight but we’ll see.”

Yawning again, Race hummed. “Okay. You doing okay?”

“Better now that you’re awake.” He smiled.

“Sap!” Race flashed him a smile as the door was pushed open.

The nurse came in, checking over Race as Spot stood back, allowing her to pass between them. She flashed them both a smile before telling them the doctor would be in before seeing about getting Race some food.

Spot sat in the chair, sighing quietly, keeping an eye on Race. He was glad he was going to be okay but just wanted to be home with his family. It would definitely be a Christmas they wouldn’t forget for a long time.

Thanks @deliciouspeachpirate for sending this in!!!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #deliciouspeachpirate #drabble prompt #christmas drabble #drabble prompts #spot conlon #racetrack higgins

16 notes · View notes

chungledown-bimothy · 6 years ago

Text

Trust Me: Chapter 6

I’m so sorry it too so long- for some reason, I just couldn’t get into Virgil’s head for this one. Thank you so much for your patience <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 5 AO3 Chapter 7

Warnings: swearing, mention of death/funerals, brief mention of homophobia (it’s as fluffy as this one’s gonna get, y’all)

Word Count: 2023

Tag List: @ccecode @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @ren-allen @ilovemygaydad @bloodropsblog @funsizedgremlin @raygelkitty @roxiefox23 @thomasthesandersengine @spookyingarbageisland @band-be-boss-blog

Thursday

Virgil stared at the empty conversation for what felt the millionth time, trying to find the right words. Fuck it. I need to just do this. Like a bandaid. I can do this.

[To:Patton]- Hey Patton, this is Virgil.

[To:Patton]- From your coffee shop the other day.

Fuck, that was bad. Well, there's nothing I can do about it now. He opened the case files he brought home to review, trying to distract himself, but gave up after about 10 minutes and started watching The Office for the fifteenth time. He was three episodes in when his phone went off.

[Patton]- Hi!! I hope this doesn't come across as pushy or anything, but do you wanna go out sometime? I'm really bad at communicating through text, and I think you're really cute

[Virgil<3]- it totally doesn't. Yeah, I'd love to meet up. What are you up to on Saturday?

[Patton]- Going to the de Young with you, hopefully? I have a membership

[Virgil<3]- That would be amazing!! I've been dying to go see the Monet exhibition.

[Patton]- Me too! I'll pick you up at noon on Saturday, then?

[Virgil<3]- Sounds great!

[Patton]- I can't wait! I guess I don't need to ask where you live lol

[Virgil<3]- haha yeah I guess not. I'll see you then :)

Virgil put his phone down and took a deep breath. Holy SHIT am I really doing this?? Patton's so cute, but I'm a mess. But it's Monet at the de Young, and Patton seems so… good. Like, too good for me. God, I'm really good fuck this up, aren't I?

[Patton]- Take a deep breath; it's gonna be great. There's absolutely no need to worry :)

… Holy fuck I'm so gay. Patton had attached a selfie with a huge smile and a thumbs-up.

Saturday

Taking a deep breath, Virgil looked in the mirror and adjusted his tie. He didn't even wear ties to work, but a date to see Monet's works in person deserved better than his everyday work attire, let alone his usual weekend outfit of a t-shirt, an old hoodie with purple plaid patches, and black jeans. He tried not to think about the last time he wore the black tie, but he couldn't shut the train of thought off fast enough.

It's raining. Of course it is. He loved the rain so much; it's only fitting it's raining when we have to say goodbye.

"He'd hate that we're all here being sad, you know. He'd say we were being lame and that he deserves something more fabulous. He'd also be pissed that I'm talking to you, not him, at an event about him, even if it is his funeral. So, Remy, you dramatic, self-absorbed ass, I'm standing in front of all of these people, and I'm gonna talk to just you.

First of all, I'm more sorry than I can say. You told me he would be willing to break his rules, and I didn't trust you. You were always right, and I hated that. If you were here, you'd tell me to shut the fuck up and say that I know I love you. I absolutely and completely love you. And that's why it kills me that I couldn't protect you. You weren't just my partner, you were my best friend, and I failed at the absolute minimum. God, Remy, you deserved so much better. I'm sorry I couldn't be better.

But fuck this melancholy shit. You told me once that you wanted to put the 'fun' in funeral. So, everybody," Virgil continued, addressing the crowd again, "as Remy said so often, 'let's cut the shit and drink'. Scandals downtown is ready and waiting for us to fuck shit up in his memory."

Coming back to the present, Virgil wiped the tear from his cheek and rolled up the sleeves of his purple dress shirt. Patton's gonna be here any minute; I need to finish getting ready.

Before he knew it, there was a knock at the door. He took a deep breath and was glad he did when he opened the door and briefly forgot how to breathe, because standing there on his doorstep was 5 feet and 7 inches of the most beauty Virgil had ever seen in one person. Patton wasn't the most conventionally attractive- whereas society as a whole prized hard lines and defined muscles, Patton was soft lines and the kindest eyes imaginable. Virgil couldn't explain why, but Patton exuded kindness and trustworthiness. He didn't realize he'd been staring until the sound of a throat clearing startled him.

"Oh, um, I was staring, huh?" Virgil asked, embarrassed.

Patton nodded, blushing. "Yeah, but I was too. You look really good."

"Thanks, you do too, but I guess you already knew that I feel that way." In his efforts to avoid eye contact, Virgil noticed the pin on Patton's shirt- simply reading 'they/them'. "Are those your pronouns?"

"Yeah, they are." Patton's posture immediately shifted- standing straighter and narrowing their eyes. "Is that a problem?"

"Not in the slightest." He smiled when Patton visibly relaxed, their megawatt smile returning in full force.

"Wonderful! Now, let's go see some art almost as beautiful as you. I'll drive." Patton winked and started walking. It took Virgil a second to remember how to breathe, let alone move, but he quickly caught up once he did. He stopped short again when he saw their car- a classic black VW Beetle in perfect condition.

"Holy shit, Patton. Your car is gorgeous."

"Oh my goodness thank you! She was my dad's."

"Like I said, it's- she's beautiful. Maintenance must be a nightmare, though. What year is she?"

"1955. Maintenance isn't that bad- my dad taught me how to keep her in shape after I came out in high school. He thought getting my hands dirty would turn me into 'a real man'."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Pat." They shrugged.

"It's no big deal. Joke's on him- I'm still queer as hell, but now I can keep this beauty in good shape. Get in! She's old, but she won't bite!" Laughing, Virgil got in the car, and they left for the museum.

"Monet was a founder of Impressionism as a counterpoint to Realism, which had been popular for about ten years before Impressionism started developing and twenty-four years before the term Impressionism was first used.

Realism grew in popularity with the rise of photography; artists wanted their works to look objectively real, and strove to remove emotion. They largely focused on the working class and depicted life as it was, without any sentimentality or heroism.

Monet never really bought into that. His early works works, though chronologically in the Realism era, were always painted with intense emotion, and he rarely painted people. He began playing with the concept that what we understand of reality is just our perception, and he was far from alone in those thoughts. Marx held that belief as well, going further and saying that all we have in our minds are ideologies, not facts or truths, and they act as filters, shaping everything we experience.

Rousseau died two centuries before the rise of Impressionism, but he summed up the philosophy well when he said 'I feel before I think'. Monet's paintings, while indistinct and 'messy' up close, evoke strong emotion only when one looks at the piece as a whole. We feel it before we get close enough to see and think about what it's really made of." Strictly speaking, Virgil didn't need to be speaking softly into Patton's ear with his hand on their waist, standing so closely behind them that he could feel the movement of their chest with each breath. Neither of them, however, would ever dream of complaining.

Patton reluctantly stepped out of Virgil's embrace and turned to look at him in awe. "That's incredible, Virgil. How do you know all that?"

"Oh, um, thanks. I really like art philosophy, and Monet is my favorite artist. I dunno, something about making order out of chaos is really calming."

"I feel the same way! Life is sorta like a puzzle, or Monet's brush strokes. Each one, taken individually, doesn't make much sense. We all feel and experience things like that, things that are confusing or sometimes even scary. But as we keep going, we find more and more pieces, and things make more and more sense. Feeling like a half-missing puzzle set is okay, as long as we remember the big picture. If any of that makes sense." Patton chuckled nervously, scratching behind his ear.

"No, it made perfect sense. What would you say the big picture is?"

"Well, I'd say it's doing as much good as possible. Whether it's big things, like being a doctor, firefighter, or teacher, like my brother, or small things, like putting a smile on someone's face with a pun or a good cup of coffee. It's our duty as people to make the world around us a better place, however we can."

"That's a really beautiful way of looking at things, Patton." Virgil gave them a small smile. He started to say more, but he was interrupted by the growling of his stomach. "Oh, shit. I was so nervous this morning, I forgot to eat. Wanna go to the cafe and get lunch? My treat, since you still haven't let me pay you back for the coffee."

"I told you, it was a gift! And don't think for a second that I didn't notice that you tipped almost triple what you would have paid if I had charged you." Their smirk was only slightly lessened by the fact that they had to tilt their head back slightly to make eye contact.

"You got me there, but I'm still buying. No, stop that- no amount of puppy dog eyes can change my mind."

"Well, you can't blame a guy for trying." Patton shrugged. "Alright, let's go get some food. You're already almost alarmingly skinny- if we don't get some food in you, you might disappear altogether." Patton started walking backwards towards the cafe, not breaking eye contact.

"Hey! I'm a perfectly normal weight for my height." Virgil started walking too, shaking his head.

"Which is what, 6'3? You need to eat more than the average person, not less. Skipping meals isn't good for you, kiddo."

"I know that. You're just really cute, and I got nervous," he admitted, blushing.

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Now come on, let's eat." They winked before turning around and skipping away. Virgil followed, completely smitten.

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

"Mr. Dean, a minute?" Logan called after his least favorite student. It was almost 7 pm- students on campus at this hour outside of football season was unheard of, and the last game of the season was weeks ago.

"Greetings and salutations, Mr. Reed. It's JD, though. Mr. Dean is my father." He sauntered to Logan, disdain clear on his face. Logan couldn't be sure if it was towards himself, Mr. Dean, or both.

"Yes, erm, JD, what are you doing on campus so late? Your attendance record in my class alone indicates a disinclination towards being here during school hours, let alone so late."

"That's just the thing, Mr. Reed. No one wants me to be here now."

"Ah, I see. A contrarian. It's not safe to be out here alone, however. The sun set hours ago, and there's a killer on the loose, if the news is to be believed. Come with me, I'll drive you home."

"Thanks, sir, but I'm fine. I'm a fighter, you see. Let the bastard come after me- it'll be the last mistake he ever makes."

"Save the bravado for your peers. I will not take no for an answer- if anything happened to you, it would be on my conscience. My car is in the parking lot. Go." Logan commanded.

"If you insist." He gave a mocking bow before turning away from Logan and walking to the car. If he turned back around, he would have seen a cold, malicious smile spread across his teacher's face. He didn't turn around.

#sanders sides #moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fan fiction #sanders sides fanfiction #my writing #trust me

12 notes · View notes

12freddofrogs · 6 years ago

Text

Gotham Crusaders - A Batfamily TV Show

I am currently writing a surprisingly long description of how the Batfam could potentially be adapted into a TV show. It’s on Ao3 here, and includes detailed character arcs, dialogue, fight scenes, jokes, and emotional moments.

Particularly in Chapter/Season Four, an extract of which you will find below. This is Tim’s Robin era part two, aka the Under the Red Hood season. Season Four involves a heavy focus on both plot and characterisation, with fun family crisises for everybody.

Episodes include the new crimelord Red Hood making a name for himself in Gotham; a cupcake selfie that leads to broken bones; Steph’s brief run as Robin; Jack Drake making an effort to be a better father that he doesn’t necessarily succeed at; why rogues should not leave hackable robot armies in the open; and a mixture of heart-warming and heart-breaking moments in quick succession. And two people get hit with a crowbar, only one of whom deserved it.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Chapter one here

Season Four, Episode One - Worst Nightmare

Batman and Robin have a case.

Scarecrow is planning something.

His research discovered a promising new strain of fear gas. A delayed reaction.

Unfortunately, he needs money to create this new-and-improved fear toxin.

So Scarecrow robs a place.

A bank is traditional, if cliché, and doing it in the middle of the day almost guarantees no Bat presence.

It works.

He escapes fairly easily, leaving a cannister of fear gas behind him for the police to hesitate over.

There’s a storm growing as Batman, Robin, and Spoiler go deal with Scarecrow.

They track him to a new lair, dark and creepy and with the appropriate weather outside for dealing with the Master of Fear.

As fitting the theme, they split up to search for clues.

Meanwhile, Dick and Cass are at the manor for a more domestic situation: teaching Cass how to bake cookies.

It’s a much lighter B-plot with very little screentime. For them the storm outside makes the warm kitchen seem cosy.

The biggest conflict is convincing Cass that the white powders of flour/salt/baking powder/sugar aren’t interchangeable.

Dick teaches her to lick the spoon and Alfred’s lesson is further derailed.

Across the city, Robin triggers one of Scarecrow’s boobytraps.

He realises a gas is being let into the room almost immediately, has his rebreather clutched to his face within moments.

When he doesn’t react he assumes he was fast enough.

He reassures the concerns over their comms he’s fine, his yelp was just being startled.

Spoiler is the first to find Scarecrow.

He’s working in his lab, mixing together chemicals.

When she arrives, he throws the half-finished concoction in her face.

She’s doubles over, choking, as Scarecrow grabs his mask and pushes past her. He picks up several vials on the way out.

The gas that hit Spoiler was incomplete and not designed for an instant effect. Together, those facts mean she has a comparatively minor response.

She’s nervous, she’s jittery, she’s hallucinating her memories lucid.

A young Steph, maybe seven, peeks out around the door.

“You have to run,” tiny Steph says.

“I… what? Why?”

“Dad’s not happy with us.”

Spoiler flinches, but stands up. Her knees are shaky as she grips the table. “Well, I’m not happy with him, either. I’m not afraid of Da — wait. Dad isn’t here.”

Her tiny self has vanished.

As has Scarecrow. And Spoiler is left disorientated and afraid.

Batman finds Scarecrow’s research.

He learns what the audience already knows, that Scarecrow wanted to create a time-delay.

He also finds a collection of syringes labelled ‘antidote’.

He destroys the research, keeping a sample of the fear gas.

Meanwhile, Robin is starting to react.

A rumble of thunder make him jump, needing to bite his hand to stop himself from screaming.

He’s increasingly frightened of the world around him.

For a moment he sees spiders crawling along his arms. Robin frantically starts to swipe, but they disappear before he touches them.

“Spoiler, Robin.” The communicators crackle. “I discovered what Scarecrow’s working on. It’s a design that means that if you’re hit, you won’t start showing symptoms for almost an hour.”

“Really?” Robin asks, his breathing coming quick. “That could… that could explain it.”

“Are you implying the trap you set off is impacting you?”

Robin closes his eyes tight, trying not to look at the shadows reaching for his legs. They vanish when he ignores them. “Yep.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m…” He turns around. The walls start to drip blood. “I… don’t know. Batman, I’m scared.”

“Just remember it’s not real. Spoiler, stay where you are. You got dosed too, and it could come back any minute. I’ll find both of you.”

There’s another crack of lightning.

The power goes out. Robin flees into the nearest room.

His panic is not helped by finding Scarecrow.

“Oh, Boy Wonder. Good.” Jonathan Crane isn’t wearing his mask, is merely sitting on the table. “I was hoping to see the effects of my new toxin. You were sprayed forty-five minutes ago, was it?” He pulls a notebook and a pen from his labcoat.

“Are you real?” Robin asks, hating the tremor in his voice.

“Now that’s a promising reaction.”

Behind the scientist is a swirling mass of bats. Robin ducks as they fly overhead and shatter like glass when they hit the wall, shards showering to the ground.

Scarecrow laughs.

“Okay, okay.” Robin gets to his feet again unsteadily, pointing his staff at Scarecrow. “I’m going to go with the theory you’re real. That or I’m about to punch a hallucination in the face. Either works.”

“You’re not in any condition to fight anyone.” Scarecrow picks up a bladed sickle from the desk.

The audience is watching from Robin’s perspective as the sickle shifts, grows bigger with another hundred attachments and blades appearing, before snapping back to a simple blade. Robin shakes his head.

The fight is told almost entirely from Robin’s perspective, high on fear gas.

The full effect hasn’t totally reached him yet. He’s still aware of most of what’s going on, knows that it’s not real. He’s able to fight off the hallucinations with a little effort, but he can’t afford the distractions.

He dodges Scarecrow, and has to jump to avoid Bane. At which point he twists around, confused, and Bane’s gone again.

He jumps to the side of the blade, a perfect somersault away, and springs into a crouch.

He falters when he notices a corpse in a similar costume with different colouring lying beside him. Jason Todd, face greyed out and starting to rot behind the mask.

For a long moment he stares at his predecessor’s body, before the second Robin sits up and lunges at him.

Robin scrambles away. He closes his eyes for a moment and the image of Jason vanishes, to be replaced with Joker, crowbar in hand and Harley Quinn on his arm.

There are shadows moving on the wall, silhouettes of thugs creeping towards him, and the floor is cracking into pieces. Lightning flashes again.

“Not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.” Robin closes his eyes.

When he opens them, everyone is gone — including Scarecrow. The lights have switched back on.

Tim stands up slowly, looking around suspiciously. Even the storm has vanished. “This can’t be real.”

As he says it, the edges of the room start to blur, fading into white. The blankness spreads fast until Tim is standing in an empty expanse of nothing, just him in the world.

“No, no, no, this isn’t real.” He sinks to his knees. “This can’t be real don’t leave me alone don’t leave me—”

The audience’s view changes back to reality.

The room goes back to being darkened, night-time in a storm. Robin is still curled up on the ground, begging for someone to find him.

“Fascinating.” Scarecrow takes the time to put down his scythe. He writes down notes about Robin’s condition, before lifting the blade again.

Batman, always one to arrive at the last moment, breaks into the room.

Within moments Scarecrow is defeated.

Crane might be a formidable opponent against a heavily drugged teenager, but a clear-headed Batman is out of his league.

Batman shoves him against the wall. “Explain. Now.” He holds one of the ‘antidote’ needles in front of Scarecrow’s face.

“Surely you understand how to read, Batm—ow, ow, ow!” Crane winces as he’s pushed harder.

“Will it work on whatever you hit Robin with?”

“Yes, yes, those are the ones designed for this formula.”

“If you’re lying, I will break every one of your bones piece by piece,” Batman warns, letting Scarecrow slide to the ground. “Don’t move.”

He kneels in front of Robin, who doesn’t seem to comprehend what’s in front of him. It does mean he doesn’t fight when Batman lifts his arm and injects the syringe into his skin.

Camera switches back to Robin’s perspective as the white blankness starts to implode. He blinks, frowns up at his mentor. “Batman?”

“Robin. Can you walk?”

Robin blinks again, looking sick. Batman helps him to his feet.

They leave Scarecrow handcuffed for the police.

Spoiler is still sitting in the room.

Her younger self has come back, and they’re discussing life.

“Do you know we’re doing here?” Spoiler asks. Tiny Steph shakes her head. “We’re here to fight the Scarecrow. With Batman. And Robin. We’re here to help people.”

“We can’t even help ourself,” tiny Steph murmurs.

“Sure we can.” Spoilers smiles at her. “It gets better once you get bigger.”

Their conversation is a calmer hallucination than anything Tim had to deal with. It’s also a way of delving into Spoiler’s psyche with the literal embodiment of her fears in the room.

“When I get bigger?” tiny Steph repeats. “You mean, when I grow up like you? Don’t make me laugh. You think you’re a hero? You think you can make a difference in Gotham? You’re nothing.” Tiny Steph leans forwards, her baby teeth bared. “You’re going to get yourself killed and no-one is going to mourn you.”

Spoiler blanches.

The door opens and Batman is there, still supporting Robin.

The hallucination vanishes.

“Spoiler. Let’s go.”

He tells her that he has got an antidote, but since not even Scarecrow knows what she was doused with he doesn’t want to use it on her without further testing. Spoiler agrees to the wait, a little reluctantly, but her hallucination remains gone.

Robin is already picking up a sample from the dropped glass.

They all return to the Cave.

Bruce has Tim and Steph thoroughly tested and given antidotes.

Cass comes downstairs with a plate of fresh cookies.

Steph and Tim try them, not noticing Dick frantically shaking his head, and nearly choke.

Despite Alfred’s best efforts, she had mixed up certain white powders — one teaspoon of sugar and a full cup of baking powder.

Alfred’s cookies, however, do wonders for helping them recover from the last of the fear gas.

The night finishes kind of cheerfully, with everyone joking and eating cookies and making a valiant-if-pointless attempt to sneak Cassandra Cain’s baking into the bin without her noticing.

Entire Fic Here

Season One Episode Here: In which Dick Grayson, 17-year-old ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, gets kidnapped. He is very bored.

Season Two Episode Here: In which Robin!Jason trades himself for a hostage, proceeds to spend the subsequent car chase taunting Two-Face as much as he can.

Season Three Episode Here: in which Gotham high school suffers from a musical episode. Tim really wishes Dick would stop laughing.

#batfam #batfamily #batman #Tim Drake #Robin III #Stephanie Brown #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Cassandra Cain #Alfred Pennyworth #Nightwing #Black Bat #DC #12freddofrogs writes #Gotham Crusaders #this is actually not the full episode I had to cut equivalent of about five minutes off the end #because everything in s4 ties into the plot and if I wanted it to be a satisfying ending I had to shorten the margins a little #Scarecrow #fear gas

4 notes · View notes

fandom-blerd-life · 7 years ago

Text

Black Lightning 1.05: How Do You Feel About Latex?

Previously on Black Lightning, we met Tori, the alliterative addition to the Tobias & Tori evil duo, Anissa explored her new powers, and the kids in Freeland got hooked on a brand new drug called Green Light.

Hellooooooo (Mrs. Doubtfire Voice™) and welcome to another recap of Black Lightning! We’re 5 episodes into this season and there are no signs this show is slowing down. In fact, they’re still introducing new and exciting world-building elements that I 100% did not expect! But as usual, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Last week, Black Lightning got to test out some new electric vision and this week, Gambi hooked him up with some flying action! (Well, it’s closer to a hover than a fly, but the guy’s been gone for 9 years, he’s got to ease in.) During a test flight, Black Lightning notices a kid trying to evade police capture. It turns out, he was high on Green Light. I think the more important note about this scene though, is the fact that the officers were prepared to shoot the kid, even though he was unarmed. And Black Lightning--and in turn, the show--calls them on it. Sure, this kid was tweaking worse than me before my morning coffee, but if the officers felt as threatened as they claimed, they could have tased him first. Once again, small moment, HUGE statement being made by this show. Black Lightning subdues the kid with a lightning blast and uh oh, it looks like he’s having some head pain. Surely it’s just a fluke and won’t come up again.

I don’t know what kind of operation Gambi is running here, but while he’s down in the Lightning Lair, his shop is empty AF upstairs. Not an employee in sight! That can’t be good for business. However, that doesn’t deter Tobias and Henchlady (yay! She’s back!) from making their presence known. Tobias and Gambi trade insults and threats about Black Lightning’s identity, but before our villains leave, we find out that Tobias has some kind of anti-aging serum running through his veins. ::record scratch:: Say what, now?? Tobias doesn’t age? How old is he? Where did this serum come from? What kind of side effects does it have? Is it magic? We all know magic ALWAYS comes with a price! I have questions, show! One person who is not giving up any answers though, is Gambi. We’ve seen hints of his shadiness in previous episodes, but it’s clear that Gambi’s hair is filled secrets upon secrets, including some kind of deal between him and Tobias.

Meanwhile, at Pierce Palace, Anissa is deep into research about enhanced abilities. Like many superheroes before her, she turns to Generic Search Engine dot com. She’s basically one step away from an unstoppable WebMD spiral, when Jennifer barges in to borrow one of her sister’s jackets. I love the Pierce Sister banter in this scene soooo much. They give each other shirt like only sisters can. “Are you watching porn?” I mean, come on! The Pierce sisters are very important to me dot tumblr dot com. Anissa gets back to work, and discovers that 30 years ago in Freeland, 9 kids with enhanced abilities just disappeared.

There are a few things in this episode that are just so quintessentially Black and 2 of them happen at the roller rink. I don’t know about you, but the rink was a staple of my childhood. I had and went to countless birthday parties there. Not only that, roller skating has been a staple in the Black community for decades. It has roots in the Civil Rights era when rinks would have nights specifically for Black folks to come and skate to rhythm and soul music. It gave them a place of their own to have a good time and skate to their own music. We got to see a glimpse of that time in this episode, with the addition of smartphones and a good old-fashioned girl fight. While Jennifer is finding her perfect selfie light, two girls come at her after consuming a large amount of Haterade™. They throw several insults Jennifer’s way (including a low blow about Khalil), but Jennifer claps back with the Blackest of insults by calling out Lana’s crusty ash knees. Only on this show will the thing that sets a girl off be someone else saying they’re ashy. Amazing. Just so perfect. Anyway, Lana lunges toward Jennifer who fights BOTH Lana AND her friend without breaking a sweat! Could it be? Could there be three Pierces with abilities??

Back at the drugstore where Anissa threw a grown ash man across 3 aisles, Jefferson overhears a man pleading with the cashier over medicine he purchased for his sick daughter. Jefferson steps in to help and loses his temper when the cashier takes no responsibility for the situation. That pesky headache is back but this time, it comes with glowing eyes. Huh. Maybe this will be a big deal.

Anissa is still in her research rabbit hole, but learns that when those kids disappeared, there were a series of canceled articles that would have revealed a vaccine to be the source of those enhanced abilities. The editor of the Freeland Gazette who nixed the stories was David Poe, and the reporter who broke the stories? None other than Alvin Pierce, Anissa’s grandfather. DUN DUN DUN. Alvin was murdered and his murder was never solved. Anissa is 100% a Murderino and wants to get to the bottom of this.

Jeff hits the streets again as Black Lightning, but this time it’s to check out an address that could lead them to the Green Light supplier. One of my favorite things about this show is how gorgeous the camera work is. There is a shot of Black Lightning in this scene that damn near took my breath away. Clearly, not everyone in Freeland is excited that Black Lightning is back, because he is greeted by a racist white guy wielding a shotgun. This douchenugget threatens to shoot Black Lightning’s “Black ass” because he know he’ll be seen as a hero. Black Lightning doesn’t let that get to him and blasts douchenugget until he finally admits the chemicals at that address are to make Green Light, and the guy in charge of it? Joey Toledo: Tobias’ right-hand man.

Back in the Lightning Lair, Jeff is pissed at Gambi for hiding the fact that Joey Toledo was still around. In the middle of screaming at Gambi, Jefferson just...falls over. Down for the count. I guess maybe he should have paid a liiiiiittle bit closer attention to those headaches! The writers even had him taking headache meds the last two weeks! But Lynn comes to the rescue and after doing a workup on Jeff, determines that there doesn’t seem to be a medical cause for these headaches, but she wonders aloud of it could be Black Lightning. As if on cue, lightning surges through Jefferson’s body, the monitors go crazy, and he wakes up.

It’s been a bit since we’ve checked in with our villains. What are they up to? Well, Tobias is being arrogant AF and Tori is trying to talk some sense into him. Something tells me he shouldn’t be so cavalier about Lady Eve’s power, because later in the episode, we see Tobias open an envelope filled with dust in a wonderful callback to last week. But Tori isn’t all negativity; she’s also got good news. She found Eldridge and it’s flashblack (I meant to type flashback, but this typo is too hilarious to fix so I’m keeping it!) time! We see a young Tori and an exactly the same age Tobias being berated by their father Eldridge. Specifically, Eldridge can barely stand to look at Tobias’ “pale ass.” Now, I’m not saying Tobias’ #DaddyIssues justify his villainous journey, but Eldridge’s behavior toward his children was atrocious. Hey Tobias, might I suggest some therapy? Perhaps in lieu of, I don’t know, straight up murder?? Think about it.

Meanwhile, it’s time for a little Daddy/Daughter, Superhero-to-Superhero quality time! Anissa wants to talk to Jefferson about her grandpa, his father. At first, he’s hesitant to have this conversation and even snaps at her. But he softens, apologizes, and comments that Anissa has a lot of her grandfather in her. That no matter what, Alvin always did the right thing. That must have been exactly what Anissa needed to hear, because she marches right into the Freeland Gazette to meet with Mr. Poe. They have a cordial conversation and Poe speaks fondly of Alvin, until Anissa mentioned those missing kids. Mr. Poe promptly kicks her out of the office and Anissa is left frustrated and confused.

I wasn’t even going to mention this next seen with Black Lightning and Henderson, but Black Lightning referring to the burner phone he gives Henderson as the “Black signal” had me cracking up too hard for me not to call it out.

Back at the Pierces, Lynn is checking on Jeff when DING DONG, they have visitors and OMG IT’S LANA AND OMG DOES LANA HAVE TWO MOMS? These ladies are not pleased about their (?) daughter’s broken wrist, but Lynn and Jeff manage to talk them down and even end up chatting and laughing with them! At least, until Jennifer comes home. Lynn is ready to serve her daughter some punishment and even drops a “You really wanna play with me right now, little girl?” And y’all. When I tell you I got chills. I could HEAR my mom saying that exact same thing to me when I was younger. You can go ahead and add this to yet another thing that makes this show so damn Black. Jeff, on the other hand, can barely contain his pride when he finds out the Jennifer managed to hold off TWO girls without getting hurt herself. That move costs him though, because somehow both he and Jennifer are on the receiving end of a Lynn Verbal Takedown.

Anissa, our Persistent Polly over here, decides to go back to the paper to get some information out of Poe. He knew she would be back because he had pulled a box of files for her. That box came with a warning though. Alvin had tapped into something huge that Poe wanted nothing to do with. Whoever these people are, they’re still watching, and Poe warns that Anissa will get killed if they find out she’s looking into this.

Tobias and Tori roll up to Eldridge’s place, and Tobias greets him with swift punch to the face. If you were hoping the years had softened Eldridge, well, you would be incorrect. He throws more insults at his children and even expects praise because he stayed when their mother left them. This is such an interesting story choice. There are so many stories where we hear about Black fathers just up and leaving their children, and rarer is the case where the mother leaves. It’s because of that, Eldridge wants credit for sticking around. He’s not like the other fathers. He stayed. What he fails to realize though, is that even though he stayed, the life he gave his children was no life at all. Tobias goes in for a hug, Eldridge takes the bait, and ends up with a broken back. He’s going to die and he’s going to die slowly.

Back at the house, Jefferson joins Jennifer as she watches track. Jenn is frustrated to be on punishment when all she did is defend herself. Jefferson responds with a quote, “The one thing you can’t take away from me, is the way I choose to respond to what you do to me.” He wants his daughter to realize that defending herself is about regulating her emotions and fighting only when necessary. And then, because they’re the cutest things ever, they throw around Star Wars references and they hug and I LOVE THEM OKAY.

While Anissa goes through her research, she comes across a bunch of articles about Tobias, and a key to a storage facility. Obviously this is a chance for her to suit up and test out those new skills of hers but OH NO, she has too much ass for her cosplay suit! LOL listen. I appreciate this so much. Too Much ass is a real thing and should be treated as such. Time for a new suit! Anissa heads to the store armed with a fake name (Monica) and almost as much sass as her stylist. Cut to a fashion show/montage that I watched...an unimportant number of times. (It was a lot. It was many times.)

She goes to the storage facility rocking her new suit, new hair, and a painted on gold mask. I love that the show is taking their time with an “official” reveal of Thunder. We get to see Anissa exploring her powers on her own and she’s even calling herself a superhero! Once she smashes into the storage unit, she finds a mysterious vial in a safe.

Henderson was able to contact one of Joey Toledo’s old girlfriend’s and even though Gambi tries to talk him out of it, Black Lightning goes to find him anyway. It turns out, Joey Toledo is the Tobias’ henchman from last week who used brass knuckles to kill the Medical Examiner! The two fight, but Black Lightning’s headache comes back just in time to give Toledo the upper hand. We end with Black Lightning on the ground struggling to get up. You might even say, that he could use a spark. (Credit to @CloneNic for that one because LOL)

So, what did you think of And Then the Devil Brought the Plague: The Book of Green Light? I know personally, I wish we got to see our girl Grace, BUT we did get our first taste of Jennifer kicking ass! As always, I’d love to hear from you! You can find me @njnic23 on Twitter. And huge thanks to @punkystarshine for all her advice and editing!

#Black Lightning

11 notes · View notes

kyloren · 7 years ago

Text

«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.”

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.

tbc.

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 #*

72 notes · View notes

lilibug--xx · 7 years ago

Text

》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,