#fred's twitter is just full of shit like this

[nico-di-genova]

For the ask game:

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

For Lestappen please! 🙏🏼

Thank you, have a lovely day 🫶🏼

22. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

Charles has just about had it. Had it with the media who shove microphones in his face and demand to know what happened, why he and Max had ended up tire deep in the gravel. Had it with Pierre making little jokes about Charles and his ‘anger issues’. Had it with the disappointed looks Fred keeps casting his way during debriefs, as the damage to the car is discussed and the cost it will take to fix it. He’s had it with the social media team, the word ‘inchident’, the way his bad English in his teens seem to be one of his longest lasting legacies.

“It’s okay, we can spin this," they say, as if he gives a shit. It was a race. He raced, he saw a gap, he went for it, Max moved, and they both ended up out. It wasn’t anything.

But jesus, if Max gives him another one of those looks, Charles is going to lose every bit of media training he’s ever endured and strangle him right on this stage. In front of God, the cameras and everyone. He clenches his fists in his lap, grinds his teeth, feels his jaw tense. The cameras are probably picking it up, so he schools his expression into bored indifference. A neutral mask, they will know he is unhappy but they will not know it is with the Dutch bastard staring him down from the other end of the couch.

“It was nothing. Just an inchident, right Charles?” Max says, with that edge of ‘I think I’m hilarious, aren’t I?’ that makes Charles want to actually scream.

Instead, he picks up his own mic and laughs, nearly a giggle as he’s been instructed, it plays cuter. Makes him look less like the track menace who rammed into the back of Max’s car on turn sixteen of the Chinese circuit, as he cursed out Max’s speed in the straights over the radio.

“Yes, hah, right. We will, uh, we will do better this weekend.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as strained as he feels, rehearsed, it’s harder to pretend when he can feel the weight of Max’s gaze on him like the full weight of his own car, plus half the rest of the grids just for good measure.

Max grins, wicked little glint in his eye, “Absolutely.” And then he’s spinning the attention away from Charles and back to the Red Bull’s performance in high wind conditions – there’s a tropical storm brewing off the coast and it’s been fucking with the weather. How his team is confident they will be able to pull away from the rest of the grid with enough ease that situations like the last race don’t happen again.

Charles thinks about beating him to death with the microphone in his hands. Not seriously, not in a way he would ever act on, just in a way that would mean he doesn’t have to stare at the back end of a Red Bull wing for another fifty-seven laps.

The rest of media day is fairly uneventful. He knocks out some joint video stuff with Carlos, does a few social media photos and merch signings, and tries to ignore the questions about Max that just seem to keep coming.

Only once does he bite, when someone asks him if he and Max will ever refollow each other on Instagram.

He laughs, “He will have to follow me back first.”

There’s a camera recording his response, grainy iPhone footage that he will definitely see on Twitter later. Good. Let Max see the gauntlet he’s thrown down. Let him see the Ferrari cap Charles had been signing with the easy flick of his wrist and sharpie across the brim. Let him see Charles does not care.

Because he doesn’t.

Why should he?

Except that maybe he does, because when Max shows up at his hotel room that night he can’t help the annoyed sound that escapes him.

“What?”

“What?”

“What?”

“So we’re fine a week ago, but you send me into the gravel and it’s you who gets to play the silent game?”

He’s been ignoring Max’s texts. There had been a lot of them.

“There is no game, I am busy. Meetings. Repairs. You know, the damage to the car.”

“Oh you’re moonlighting as your own mechanic now? Ferrari is that desperate?”

Max is angry, but more than that he’s hurt. Charles can see the flash of it in his eyes and in the tension when he clenches and unclenches his fists at his side.

“You’re-“ Max glances down the hall, at the Aston Martin employee who’s casting them glances.

Charles waves.

Max lowers his voice until only Charles can hear, “You are such a sore loser.”

The sting of it is well aimed, lands right between Charles ribs, pisses him off enough that he drops the act for a minute and tells Max to go fuck himself in Italian before slamming the door in his face.

It’s not that he’s never been called that before, more than he’s never been called it by Max. Somehow that hurts more.

Max wins in Miami. Charles has engine trouble on lap thirty and has to retire by lap thirty-two. The smile that he forces on afterward when he lies through his teeth that ‘it is like this’ hurts more than his pounding head after the DNF in China.

He tries to drown it all out by hiding in his room until his flight the next morning, instead he ends up at Max’s door.

“I hate you,” he says when the man opens it wide enough that Charles can slink past.

His hair is damp, sticking up in spikey points atop his head, and his white shirt is sticking to wet patches of his skin. He smells like ember, or leather, or something distinctly sharp. Charles tries not to think about it.

Instead, he paces tracks into the plush carpet and keeps his eyes glued to the movement of his own feet while the words spew out of him faster than he can stop them. It’s not all in English, spoken so fast he’s sure Max has missed most of it.

“I fucking hate you. You stupid. Moronic. Annoying. Idiot. You and your inchident like I am stupid. Fuck you. That was my race. My line-.”

“Is this about China?”

“Yes,” Charles spits, “Of course it is about China.”

Max crosses his arms. Watches as Charles motions wildly in the air.

“It is about China. And Suzuka. And Melbourne. About every circuit you follow me onto.”

“I follow you onto?”

“Shut up.”

“Interesting perspective.”

“Stop.”

“I didn’t even finish Melbourne.”

“Shut. Up!” He yells, he can’t help it, feels like something in his chest finally snaps and then there is a long silence where neither of them say anything at all. They both stare at each other, like someone took out a gun and shot the other. Charles does not yell. He is polite, kind, he is exceedingly lovely.

He does not yell.

Except that sometimes he does, and right now he would like to just so he could feel the pure release of it. Sometimes he does not want to be fucking kind. But he also does not want to yell at Max, realizes the pointlessness of it all.

“You want to be friends? Still?” Charles asks, because it is Max who had begun this whole dance of repairing whatever shattered thing sat between them from when they were kids. Max who had started texting him asking to play FIFA and paddle, to go running with him, offered his private jet for flights if needed. Giving everything hand over fist to Charles, assumedly because Red Bull had seen how well he listened to team orders, and behaved, and wanted to own him before Ferrari could lock him down again. Charles had played the game, and he’d maybe even become Max’s friend in the process, but there’s still a part of him that is twelve and bitter – bitter that Max has always had the money, the better kart, bitter he can’t seem to catch up no matter how hard he pushes down on the throttle.

“Do you want to be friends?” Max asks, keeping a wary distance from Charles that once would have felt normal but now seems unfamiliar. He looks at Charles like he is a ticking time bomb. Charles hates it. He hates feeling weak.

“I…I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to be, “ Max says, like the thought has not occurred to Charles.

“I know-.”

Max cuts him off like he can hear the growing edge in Charles' voice and wants to avoid alerting the housekeeping staff in the hall to their bickering.

“Then just say that. I won’t text. I’ll leave you alone. Don’t do something you don’t want to do, Charles.”

It is reminiscent of Max telling him choose whatever team he wanted a few months back, telling him to fuck expectation and do something just because he wanted it. Which was ironic coming from the three-time world champion who only wanted to race cars online. Charles chose Ferrari, because there was never realistically a world where he wouldn’t.

The simpleness of it, the way Max is so willing to just let him go, to give up on the bridge they’d slowly been building between them – Charles suddenly hates him all over again. Max Verstappen and his chivalry and his kindness and his brutal honesty because he has no need to lie. It sparks that familiar jealousy in Charles.

Which is maybe why he throws some of Max’s own medicine back at him.

“I have seen the way you look at me,” he blurts out, “When you think I will not notice.”

Max takes a moment to catch-up with the twist in conversation. His eyebrows doing this expressive little dance that Charles almost finds endearing before it settles on hurt shock.

“What?”

“You are not subtle.”

“I don’t-.”

“You’re only nice to me because you think you can fuck me now. That doesn’t make you special Max, that is all anyone wants me for anyway.”

There is a moment where he thinks Max will tell him to get out, a moment where he would go, it is a moment that is quickly lost in the anger that makes itself at home in Max’s eyes. The bridge crumbles, they are twelve and all they want to do is hurt.

“God, how do you see anything over that massive ego of yours, Leclerc.”

“You’re the three time champion, Verstappen. You tell me.”

Max steps closer, Charles steps back, he meets the resistance of the dresser and Max is suddenly there. Chest to chest, the two of them staring each other down with enough vitriol that it would probably put Pierre and Esteban to shame.

“You’re a fucking dick, Charles.” Max growls, “It’s not my fault Ferrari can’t pull their shit together enough to put you in a decent car.”

“Your car is a violation,” Charles spits back, “easy to win when you ignore the rules. Like always.”

They should stop, Charles thinks, knows they’re toeing along the precipice of something. But he’s sick of playing by the rules, so he pushes.

“Cheating is how you win, yes?”

Max's hands fist in the fabric of his shirt and push him further against the dresser before he even has the chance to blink. The furniture digs into his spine, until Charles can’t help the wounded sound that escapes him.

Max wrestles with something inside himself, Charles watches the struggle. He starts to pull away, but Charles grabs him by the hips and keeps him there. Max looks at him with that familiar expression, the one that Charles has been ignoring for months, want and need and longing all wrapped in steely grey that should be cold but might be warmest thing Charles has ever been cast in the light of.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Max says, and Charles feels rage. But it isn’t rage, not at all. It’s want. It’s the same feeling he gets when he’s gaining on Max in a race, hungry with the need to pass, to overtake, to get ahead and taste the clean air for once. It’s what landed them both in the gravel two weeks back.

Charles is smart, calculated when he needs to be, and right now he doesn’t want to play dumb.

“If I want you to hurt me?” he asks, really asks, even if he’s sure he hasn’t read the signs wrong.

Max’s expression does another dance, settles on the same want that Charles is reflecting back at him, “I don’t cheat.” He states.

Charles smiles, and it’s not the PR smile, all pretty for the cameras, it’s the smile of a man who drives on the limit and curses when he still can’t get ahead. “I don’t care. I’m going to beat you one day either way.”

Max wins in Imola, but Charles wins in Monaco.

They stand on the podium as the Monégasque anthem blares and he looks at Charles with pride, longing, reverence.

Charles notices, he always does.

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #formula 1 #my fic #lestappen fic #I call this: want disguised as hate disguised as mess

[thearchercore]

Lando’s comments about not being bffs with max is for sure directly related to lestappen gate. 

We’ve know since the summer that Charles is Ferrari’s priority to resign. (Remember we even thought it was going to be announced in the summer?) they’ve been working hard to make sure Charles feels positive about 2024 and comfortable in the 2024 car and feels like he can win a championship with Ferrari. And Charles was full steam ahead ready to renew.

It all changed in Singapore. Charles was shafted by Ferrari and Carlos was prioritized. Carlos prioritized Lando instead of his teammate - helping him stay in DRS even though he was a competitor. In the cool down room he said that what happened to Charles was “none of his business”.  Charles raises all fucking hell and Ferrari sees they’re about to lose their il predestinato.

Suzuka happens next week. And then there’s a break before Qatar - and Charles goes back to the factory in Maranello. He’s there for a week, while Carlos is no where to be seen and never shows up. Charles has a sit down interview in Qatar where he talked about feeling positive for the future and the developments for next year's car and genuinely seemed excited for the new car.

This was all before the mess of the last few races, when we saw the real development of lestappen gate. And the possibility of Charles going after Red Bull, not feeling like he can win with Ferrari. And the emergence of lestappen as being friends. publicly at least, cause we all know they’ve been close for ages. 

Ferrari gets desperate to keep Charles and will stop at nothing to retain him. Prioritizing his contact negotiations, giving him whatever he wants, making sure he knows he is the priority and they’ll do whatever they need. They hired Fred for him, and Fred is hiring and replacing like money is free to get a better team for Charles. And made it clear - the 2024 car will be suited to Charles and what he likes. 

Now who isn’t the priority? Carlos. His contract negotiations have basically stopped because they don’t care about him right now. There’s constant talks about how it’s likely he won’t reach a deal and Ferrari already has a shortlist of who they will pursue and why they’d be a great fit, to the point Spanish media is taking these so seriously that they’re shading Ferrari. Even the Spanish GP was talking shit about Ferrari on Twitter. 

Fred shades Carlos as the Vegas GP, saying Vegas was their best race of the season (even above their only team win). Fred shades Carlos again for his crash in practice in Abu Dhabi, saying that the Vegas pothole was bad luck but he said Carlos crashing in practice was “something else”. 

And with Singapore and everything that followed after, we see Charles and Carlos move from friends to barely interacting except for required events and videos. Carlos sees clearly that he is 2nd to Charles and will be considered that way with everything going forward, and is not happy about that. 

So that brings us back to: Max and Lando. Max respects Charles more than he does any other driver on the grid (hello he apologized to Charles in Vegas for turn 1?? When has he ever apologized for anything that happens on the track). Max is taking Charles’ side and even if he knows Charles is only using Red Bull to get a better Ferrari contract, he supports him cause he genuinely loves racing against Charles in a proper car. And besides the respect, they’re great friends. 

Lando’s allegiance is obviously to Carlos. And he’s hearing all of it from Carlos and his being pissed. And I can fully see it coming up in convo with Max (after all Max and Carlos were teammates and friends once upon a time) and Max not fucking having it and standing on Charles’ side. And suddenly there’s the divide and Lando refuses to say they’re friends, because he’s so behind Carlos. 

And it all just further enforces how powerful Lestappen is together. 

solid points! my little own theory was that lando wants to go into 2024 with an internal goal to be THE rival to max (how realistic that is, that's another discussion) and so the friendship with max no longer benefits him.

when lando was up and coming driver, the clout that he got by hanging out with max benefitted him. he was seen partying with the world champion, got more publicity thanks to that etc. it was in general a very appealing friendship to be in for lando.

fast forward, mclaren built a car in the second half of 2023 that could fight max in certain scenarios (singapore comes to mind). however, lando did not manage to maximise the potential due to little driver errors that always cost him a better starting position.

it's 2024 now, ferrari and mercedes have great drivers but they are fully dependent on the state of their car and the team strategy. mclaren seemed to work out some of that already so mclaren goes into this season maybe more confident than they should be.

lando's friendship with max no longer benefits him, he will be now seen as a rival, not a friend. he could be fighting him on track, and so he probably wants to push his own agenda and distance himself from max. in this scenario, carlos is a safe option as any other friend on the grid (i assume tensions will rise between carlos and oscar as oscar will no longer be a rookie)

on the other end, charles is doing the exact opposite, he maximised potential of ferrari's car and also stopped following ferrari's pr guidelines. in vegas or abu dhabi, he hung out more with max than his own teammate. during the winter break he had only one scheduled appearance with another f1 driver on the grid, again, max.

charles publicly connecting himself with max does no good for ferrari's image and how they're pushing the "friendship" between carlos and charles. in that sense, charles is not hanging out publicly with max because it benefits him, quite the opposite.

he's doing it to manipulate the narrative and take over some control himself.

that's how i see the situation right now. it will be definitely interesting to see how these grid dynamics develop because yes, they are co-workers but also in the season where so many contracts expire, it's also a big powerplay so there's definitely a lot of decisions behind the scenes

#lestappen gate 2023 #charles leclerc #lestappen #formula 1 #f1 #max verstappen #lando norris

[valyrfia]

the best possible outcome for this is charles delaying the contract negotiations till next season summer break to see if ferrari is loyal to him or at least listening to him

Yes, completely agree. As I outlined here, I think Charles is and has been stalling negotiations. I'm not entirely sure whether he's been stalling them for a while (ie. since the summer) or whether this is a recent development with the way this season has gone after the summer break, (considering when there were rumours of a 35 million € per year 5 year contract floating around in August Charles said he wish they were true). Either way, it seems these articles today about Ferrari trying to pursue a contract extension with Charles are a deliberate leak by Ferrari to try and force Charles to the negotiating table, and put the spotlight on Charles and his contract. Although, if that's the case, I reckon it's backfired a little bit as the overwhelming public response to those articles has been that Charles should go nowhere near a new contract with those clowns.

This is absolutely dire for Ferrari. As my colleagues and I have pointed out on #Lestappen Gate 2023, that second Red Bull seat is being nicely lined up for Charles. I think it's pretty obvious at this point that he's Red Bull's first choice to fill that seat in 2025 . Ever since Monza, when no contract extension materialised (which was the first sign that something was off between Charles and Ferrari), Red Bull have: said they intend to sign two number one drivers (drastically changing their narrative from earlier in the year) with Max specifically saying he thinks him and Charles could be teammates (also changing his narrative from earlier in the year), had Charles's onboards up at at least two races alongside their actual signed drivers (Mexico and Brazil GPs). This doesn't even begin to cover the whole PR net that they've managed to weave, from the increase in Max and Charles content (driven largely by the RBR social medias! F1 and Ferrari social media have contributed, but this is largely reactionary), to Christian greeting Charles in front of the press and Netflix in Brazil. This past month has been a pitch by Red Bull to try and convince both Charles and the general public that Charles should fill that seat in 2025. And it's largely worked on the general public! It hasn't quite filtered through to commentators yet, but the idea of Charles in a Red Bull is all over social media and in Ferrari replies, I can confidently say that there's a zero chance that Charles's hasn't seen it. The last great question is whether the pitch has worked on him or not.

In a way, we're in a very different situation to a month ago, when everyone was full of bravado and pretending like they didn't really care/everything was fine. The parties involved are beginning to show their hands now–Ferrari is falling apart at the seams and can barely be called a race team anymore and yet is desperate to not lose Charles, Charles is refusing to enter proper contract negotiations and is threatening to leave unless Ferrari gets its shit together in an extremely short timeframe, and Red Bull is eagerly lurking and hitting Charles with constant reminders in their press and race reports that he is a champion and deserves better. The game is a lot more transparent now, but as a consequence just got a whole lot messier.

As a footnote as well, we haven't really touched on the Carlos situation much and that really requires a whole separate analysis, but it makes things even messier for Ferrari. It's quite obvious that they won't re-sign both Carlos and Charles and are not entering negotiations with Carlos until Charles is sorted (as semi-confirmed by the Sainz family's shady twitter activities). With Charles stalling negotiations like this, Ferrari could end up in a situation where they lose both Charles and Carlos.

So my main take away from this is that I definitely do not want to be Fred Vasseur at this instance.

#mattia binotto was grossly incompetent and these are the consequences #lestappen gate 2023 #charles leclerc #screwderia ferrari #lestappen rbr #scuderia ferrari #formula 1 #silly season #because that's what it is! really!

[aanteater-nose]

Here I go. So about the new Velma series. Not only was I very excited to see Glenn Howerton in a voice acting role, but the concept for an adult animated scooby doo was actually pretty appealing to me. The show would’ve been ripe for the now-adult audience who grew up in the golden age of Scooby Doo TV (not to mention it’s kinda timeless). When I first saw the poster art for Velma I actually really liked it. The art style and animation is cool and the colors are vibrant, giving a very “spooky” vibe to the show nothing short of the mystery gang aesthetic. Really, an adult scooby doo could’ve been so fun; shaggy and scooby get the munchies and end up driving to a taco bell late at night only to find it’s haunted or some shit like that. But of course, as soon as I saw that we were race-swapping every character (not only that but Velma is literally just Mindy Khaling cosplaying as Velma) I knew to have my doubts about what this series would be trying to accomplish. Was I gonna get a good show with interesting concepts and humorous writing...or some “look how diverse we are, give us your money” bullshit. Yeah it’s pretty clear which one. 

I think we can all agree that comedy is subjective but holy shit. the humor and writing for Velma is just terrible. The show concerns itself so much with appearing edgy, witty, and (hate the use of the word but “woke”). It’s like if you sent a research team to twitter and had it come back with a script. Not to mention Mindy Khaling herself is uh, how you say, not funny? I honestly don’t know what I expected from her when I heard she’d be a big part in the Velma series, literally every show she’s ever helped produce or act in, she’s playing a self-insert of herself and her own life events. All. the time. There’s this self-pitying, snarky attitude that follows her wherever she goes, and unfortunately, that means the character Velma will be subjected to this misery as well. 

Once again, it’s just the writing that is the worst part of this project. As a big fan of shows like Arrested Development and It’s Always Sunny, I love watching characters who are just awful people committing awful acts. However, in order for those characters to be loved, the writing has to actually be good. Watching the small clips of Velma I’ve seen, I feel like I’m constantly being lectured by that one kid in class who tries to one-up every joke ever told. The show (and mostly Mindy) tries to show off how “smart” and comically sarcastic they are. As for the race-swapping of every character but Fred (who conveniently stays white so that the gang can make fun of his heterosexual, small dick, male whiteness) Mindy claims it’s because she identified so much with Velma that she felt race did not need to be tied into the character at all...which is contradicting because if that were so, why not leave the character as is? Regardless, for a show that claims to care so little about race, there are a lot of race jokes. (they couldn’t even make those funny either). 

I ofc cannot fail to mention the fake gay representation of Daphne and Velma. Anyone who’s ever watched scooby doo has had their own theories about velma and daphne, one of which being they were gay, so yeah that’s not a new concept. However, it’s so clear to see this show just lazily throwing shit in because it’s trendy. Not to mention anyone who attacks a show so full of minority “representation” will be attacked online and the creators know this. Essentially, all the inclusivity Velma parades is an obvious attempt to rack up brownie points, please do not accept this as real representation of any kind. 

So yeah anyways in conclusion, the race-swapping and queer baiting is a cash grab, the writing is atrocious, and the main character is an asshole with no redeemable qualities doubling as a self-insert of Mindy. The fact that they already got renewed for a S2 despite the overwhelming backlash just shows that it expects to survive on hatewatching alone. 

#Velma #Velma show #I’m def still bitter that I won’t get to see Glenn in new media that deserves him

[channeleven]

LTA: Velma

So, after years of going against the majority, I found something that truly broke me. When it comes to shows deemed the worst ever, I want to save that label for something that clearly wasn't compounded by internal issues. I want to save it for something that was released as it was intended, had the budget necessary to make it, is a full complete product, and most of all, lacks any endurability.

Velma has to be the worst show I have ever... heard of. Yeah I haven't seen the show, just some in-depth reviews, but look at it like this. I don't have an account on HBO Max, it's a waste of money at this point, and said reviews show me everything I need to know about it. Frankly watching a full episode is more painful than the average JayExci video.

Here's what I know of it, along with any other tidbits I could find.

Divider

I went into Velma with one question in mind, is this the worst HBO Max show ever, is this worse than Santa Inc.? Technically, yes, at least on IMDb this has a slightly lower rating than Santa Inc. Problem solved, short answer.

Long answer, Velma is part of a continuing trend of, well, adapting existing properties to suit the audiences of today, in a case of what I'd like to call... outrage marketing. People see a recurring trend of those losing their shit with beloved properties having characters portrayed by those of different races, they take to YouTube and Twitter to complain, and boom, free publicity, and if anyone dares to criticize it, they would be the assholes in that regard.

Before the show came out, I could swear I saw some people show anger over people being angry with the show, but that was a while ago so I won't say anything more on that. From the first trailer, I understood that the creators had nothing but spite in mind, why else would it feature someone complaining about a reboot doing race swapping? I had expected this show to do well with its target audience, with outrage from the cirque du Quartering, Geeks and Gamers and No Bullshit... then the show came out.

If Velma didn't kill the good will of modern reboots, it certainly left a huge gash in the prospect. Barring professional critic reviews because those are typically bullshit, nobody liked Velma, at all, and as the first season went on it only got worse, and worse, and worse, and I was thinking, Scooby-Doo is the luckiest dog in the world to not get involved with this.

If you want full episode reviews, check out those by MJTanner, she does a good job at bringing up the worst of the show.

From the beginning, this series was created by comedian Mindy Kaling, The Office, The Mindy Project, The some other things I haven't heard of. Mindy has based her aura on pure snark with some hidden spite for those around her, and if that's just a blind generalization, Velma is not gonna do any favors.

This is a dark take on Scooby-Doo, something that the series has never been a stranger to. I love the direct-to-video Scooby-Doo movies, as in those from the 90s because there's a hell of a lot more that I'd be indirectly pointing out. Mystery Incorporated... not so much, honestly I feel as though it surrendered to cliches and tried too hard in certain areas, seriously, who was clambering for a romantic subplot with Shaggy and Velma?

Hey, remember that Daphne and Velma movie that nobody talks about anymore?

I bring up Mystery Incorporated because I feel as though Velma takes some elements from it, at least indirectly. For starters, Fred has corrupt parents, or at least a corrupt father of sorts, and by the end of the season it turns out one of his parents is evil. That Shaggy and Velma thing, well now that has been swapped around, 'Norville', having been dragged into being something for Velma to latch onto after another leech sponge got away from her, wants her bad, she doesn't, frankly a night with her may lead to a murder mystery in and of itself.

Let's make this clear, Velma is a bitch, to put it lightly, either that or she is used as a vessel for the world to see the true Mindy Kaling, no wait that is exactly true. I'd be saying this about her no matter my race, creed, sexuality, and anything else that may apply.

Velma feels like a forced deconstruction of Scooby-Doo at large, along with other teen dramas. But why assume when you can hear most characters illustrate that aura off the bat? The blood of meta humor lays on She-Hulk and Velma's hands. And of course they go into common cliches of shows that approach social issues, things are handed to you on a silver platter if you're a man, those of other races deserve to be implicated for supervising young girls, some other things that left my head because only the worst elements shall remain.

Even the prospect of a murder mystery seems like a wet fart, and a cliche in and of itself, you have an adult-themed Scooby-Doo series, of course someone's gonna be murdered.

In terms of actor trivia, the only other one I recognize is Glenn Howerton, like fuck dude did you love That 80s Show so much you wanted desperately to land a more contemptuous role to justify it?

The animation is good, bar any technical aspects picked up by more keen eyes, but that just makes it worse. I picked up a complex where if I see anything too expressive, I get agitated, and this show has a ton of hammy expressions throughout it.

One last thing I could say, people claim Scooby-Doo is not part of this, beyond an acronym cameo, but I have a feeling that if there is gonna be a season two, that girl they threw in, Gigi... the whole thing was that someone has been stealing the brains of various girls, and Velma's mom happened to be in on it, at least to be an accomplice of sorts, and since Scooby-Doo isn't in this...

If in season 2 Velma switches Gigi's brain with that of a great dane to prevent any chances of Norville getting back with her, people would be grateful to not have seen Scooby-Doo to start with. For all I know if they can have two cockroaches do it, they'd have someone take doggy style to a whole new level.

But Why is Velma the Worst?

Admittedly some would latch onto the claim that Velma defiled childhoods everywhere and that everyone is mean, and while I do see that as a legitimate issue, but for my reason, let's lay out some context.

Take every show or game that has the aura of female comedians who happen to not be very funny, socio political commentary or just an all round toxic atmosphere, Magical Girl Friendship Squad, Our Cartoon President, Steven Universe, Santa Inc, Life is Strange, High Guardian Spice, Deadend Paranormal Park... I dunno, Biatches!, what do these shows have in common? One thing and one thing only.

You get what you paid for.

Yeah, a majority of these shows aren't very good, but you know what you can expect with them, that is on the nose references to political happenings, dick jokes, and stuff.

With Velma, you go into this expecting some socio-commentary, that trailer, Judy Jetson goddamnit, but you don't go expecting cringe meta humor, overly on the nose commentary with little of that metaness, a hokey twist and Velma setting South-Asians back, I'm tempting fate here, but do you want someone like Mindy Kaling, excuse me, Velma, to serve as a voice of any kind to anyone.

I don't give that implication, but I do want to see people be represented, I do, my problem is that the worst possible people are used as a voice for them, and of course the kinds of people those shows attract that poison the well, so to speak. Honestly, maybe the professional critics should hear fans out, for everything in life holds a kernel of truth.

The truth is, even if this show gets a second season, how could anyone climb out of this? How can anyone justify this (beyond it being non-cannon)? What good has this show done other than pleasing Mindy? Is Glenn Howerton becoming the new Cam Clarke?

Point is, no matter where people lean or what background they come from, Velma is a painful experience, that can only truly be enjoyed by one extreme or the other.

#velma hbo max #velma show #velma scooby doo #velma

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (148): Tue 9th Aug 2022

Off to my third ever Edinburgh Fringe this morning. Last year was okay but there were still a few Covid restrictions that made you aware that this was a muzzled version of the Edinburgh Fringe but this year there were no restrictions at all. Not long after I got off the train it was time to head into the city centre for my first show of the Fringe: Helter Skelter, a dark play about the early days of the Manson family. I learned on Twitter from someone who posts “On this day” Tweets that it was the anniversary of the murders today which lent this viewing an added sense of macabre. The cast were really good and one of my favourite exchanges was Manson explaining to his followers about how dogs don't have deep thoughts and aren't analytical and if they somehow became able to think more selfishly like humans do eventually they would long for the days where they were stupid. I posted a nice review on Twitter of the show which the company retweeted and thanked me for. As I was walking towards the park some guy gave me a free ticket to a play about Chekhov which I took but had absolutely no intention of going to. I love getting peoples hopes up only to crush them. No but seriously I would have gone had my schedule not been full. I think what I might do is just post a nice review of every show I get handed a ticket or flier for even if I don't go because any amount of praise the artists get can edge them closer to being able to come back next year. I went to a nearby cafe for lunch and had a nice jacket potato with hummus and coleslaw and spent half an hour people watching in the glorious sunshine. I had a bit of time to kill before my next show so decided to take an open topped bus tour of the city and was sat in front of two girls from Manchester who kept me entertained throughout the journey just from the stupid amount of stupid shit they said to each other. Here are some highlights:

"It's so hot I might literally take my cardigan off" (As opposed to metaphorically taking one's cardigan off?)

How did they build the pyramids? Did they have cranes back them?

Remember when you didn’t like the smell of that yoghurt so you sprayed some perfume on it? I dare say these two probably could have made a killing at the Edinburgh Fringe if they only realized how funny they were. I decided not to go and see the next two shows on my list "Death of a Disco Dancer" and the "Straight Jacket Escape show" as I was enjoying the sunshine too much so I decided to just chill until the next show. I spent much of the rest of the afternoon walking through the city, taking in the sights and generally just relaxing. Over the course of the day I saw quite a few comedians: tight at the start of my bus tour I saw Omid Djalili and Bobby Mair. Then as I was coming out of the hostel Arthur Smith walked past me, later as I was leaving a Tesco Richard Herring walked past and on my way towards my second show I walked past Tony Law. I haven't seen that many famous people in person so seeing five of them in one day was quite surreal. Next up I went to see "Laurel and Chaplin: Before They Were Famous". It's the story of how Stan Laurel and Charlie Chaplin worked together in their early years and eventually drifted apart after Chaplin became a megastar. This was a really funny and surprisingly short play with a really good cast (although the actor playing Stan Laurel had multiple tattoos which was a bit distracting). The middle of the show featured some audience participation which I always dread when I go to shows as I'm worried they're going to pick me. Luckily they didn't as they ended up picking a really gorgeous looking woman, a fat guy and an old guy who kept making mistakes and fucking up the flow of the sequence he was acting out but in a funny way that didn't spoil the play. According to this play Laurel and Chaplin were supposed to be on the Titanic when they got hired to go work in America but their manager Fred Karno was too cheap to pay for tickets and sent them there on a shitty boat instead. I can't find any evidence of this on the internet that backs it up so it might be bullshit. This play was really funny but like a lot of Chaplin films was also very poignant, working in Chaplin's mother's struggle with mental illness for a very touching finale. After this show I only had twenty minutes to spare before the next show which was happening just across the road. What Broke David Lynch? which tells the story of all the behind the scenes antics that happened in the run-up to Lynch directing The Elephant Man. There was a bit of a production problem at the start as a light kept flickering but to be honest it was kind of appropriate since the same thing happens in Twin Peaks. The guy playing David Lynch was, well...fat, and it didn't look right, he also got a few of his lines wrong which got laughs from the audience but I don't think this was the reaction the director wanted from this show. The guy playing Mel Brooks was a dirty looking fucker who kept spraying tiny droplets of spit into the front row. Two fuckwit women walked into the room past the actors ten minutes after it had started which threw both me and the cast off. Then there was a musical number which went on for way too long. The only bit I liked was where Lynch was doing up John Hurt in the Elephant Man makeup and to be honest the rest of this play was a bit of a let down. Ah well, they can't all be winners. It was half 10 at this point and after walking around the Pleasance area for a bit I headed bac to the hostel. I wanted to get something to eat before bed but my phone was on one percent and by the time it was fully charged I was knackered so just went straight to sleep. Today was awesome. I think I definitely made a mistake in booking so many shows. Death of a Disco Dancer and the Straight Jacket Escape show sounded like they might have been interesting but to be honest when you go through the list of shows available there are ones that just jump out at you and those are the ones you should go to see which I think is what I will do during future Fringe visits.

[the-scooby-gang]

Stop with the faces. You guys love Scooby as much as he do.

#Scooby Gang #scooby doo #Shaggy Rogers #Fred Jones #daphne blake #Velma Dinkley #poly gang #fred's twitter is just full of shit like this #daphne was to tired to contribute to the meme #I just imagine them snuggled up in a giant yellow blanket #his twitter is name The Mystery Man and you know it #Great Danes are hella heavy holy shit #and also tall as fuck in their hind legs #shaggy must be hella strong under that green v neck of his

[simping-roulette-writings]

Heat of the Moment

Shark Daddy x GN Reader

☠️💥Minors DNI💥☠️

(Sin,guys, this is SIN. Just straight up smut- Not sure if I was inspired or just followed the horny. -///- I’m not the best at writing stuff like this but that is for all of you to judge. As I just go liven’t.)

{D.Shark belongs to @my-quirk-is-fred and they fucking deserve love for their art. Especially the one from their Twitter that inspired this mess of a fic.}

Warnings: Breading kink, size kink, monster fucking? Not proof read

(God idfk, if you’re not comfortable, don’t read, drink your water)

There’s so much at once right now: Deep heavy breaths fanning your neck, your legs clutching around the body pillow for dear life, sweat trickling down your brow, but most of all-

You’re whole body being pressed down be the shear weight of you shark lover above you.

His hips rutting against your backside as his dick is buried deep inside; every bump and ridge massaging your walls, sending wave of euphoria through out, causing shivers and moans to whimper out. This is fucking heaven. You couldn’t move much, but wiggle your own hips against him felt amazing. Especially when draw out some reaction from him.

A deep guttural growl vibrates against his chest with your movements, making you coo out to him.

“F-Fuck..” The shark manages to groan out, his claws digging into the floor.

“S-So fucking tight…you’re taking me in still, baby..” His voice, usually smooth, is now rougher. Some drool dribbles from his lips that drips down to join the sweat below. He hates getting everything dirty like this, but the want-NEED to be buried deep in, pump you full till your pregnant (even if it’s not possible) was all in his heated mind. How could resist you? Your scent, the way your cute ass was displayed only for him, those eyes just begging for a pup to be put inside; Daddy couldn’t refuse such an offer, and in the heat of the moment, your were pinned down and taking him.

A loud mew sang out for only him to hear, making it so much harder to hold back.

“D-Daddy-!” You moan loudly from under the massive shark. “More-oh!”

Such a greedy mate he has, wanting more then what can take.

“Use…you’re words…now.” He demands deeply as he slows down ever so slightly, making your mind go crazy.

“More…p-please,” A whine called out from yourself with no shame and full of lust.

That did more then it should have, cause that’s when shit got real.

You feel his dick slowly pulling back slightly to only be push back in with a sharp thrust. The tip pushes deep and hits that part inside that made stars appear in your vision. No words could he escape your throat, barely sounds came out too. This is more than you expected. And he thrusts again. And again. And again.

You finally screamed out for him, clenching on to the pillow for dear life as he fucks said life out of you. He gotten closer to you somehow, causing your stomach to be pressed and making you feel him even m o r e. His grunts turns more animalistic as he went on, scratch marks appeared on the floor, and his eye slowly roll back.

With each thrust of his hips, you felt closer to your peak; and by his doing, it feels like your being dragged to bliss.

“C-ah…” You try to call out, interrupting yourself with your own moan till you bit you bottom lip. “‘m gonna-!”

“Do it baby. Cum.” He growls out deeply, feeling himself getting to his own climax quickly. “Cum for me. Only me.”

On his command, you did. That tightness in your stomach snaps and you cum with pleasure raking out your entire body. One finally push against your ass, he joined your high as well. Streams of his climax pours slowly into you with some dribbling out to soak the pillow.

For a moment or two, both of you stay still, catching your breath and letting the high calm till both of you can think.

Slowly the shark man pulls himself out, not want to hurt you (and make more of a sticky mess.) His cum slowly leaks out of you, making him a little sad but your face of satisfaction made him feel better. That’s what matters right now~

And a bath.

“Baby….” He whispers and leans in close, giving a loving kiss on your head. “Time to clean up…~”

You whine slightly, clinging to the (tortured) body pillow. “Noooo…”

“Y/n.” He whispers to you as his arms scoop you up. “I hate to see you all sore for next time..~” His words were so loving and gentle. Both of you head to your bathroom to clean up….till it hits you.

“Next time…?” You look up with wide, oddly hopeful, eyes.

His response? That stupid smirk.

“Remember, I got two to deal with, baby~”

This was news that made you ache for your body in the close future.

But, you couldn’t wait either.

#fanfic #smut #monster smut #gn reader #not my character

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

If you like this post, and want to see more like it, consider supporting me on Patreon!

There is a whole new slate of Patreon rewards, including: good house of the month, an exclusive Discord server, weekly drawings, monthly livestreams, a reading group, free merch at certain tiers and more!

Not into recurring donations but still want to show support? Consider the tip jar! 

Or, Check out the McMansion Hell Store! Proceeds from the store help protect great buildings from the wrecking ball.

#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

[doityourselfbombs]

Riverdale S1E1: The River's Edge

Riverdale is an unintentional piece of absurdist art masquerading as a teen drama and anyone who hasn't had the chance to experience it is missing out. here's all of the weird out of pocket shit that goes down in the first episode alone.

general rundown:

the show takes place in Riverdale, a small town that can't seem to move past 1960s nuclear family aesthetics. on July 4, twins Jason and Cheryl Blossom took a boat ride down the river and only one of them came back alive – Jason's body still hasn't been found, and nobody really knows what happened to him.

the five main characters:

Betty Cooper, heavily based on the "girl next door" archetype, who lives with her weird toxic journalist parents, has a crush on Archie, and has a sister who is staying in a group home after she got pregnant with Jason Blossom's kid and was disowned by her parents.

Archie Andrews, redheaded football star who decides he wants to be a mediocre singer-songwriter and is also having an affair with his music teacher.

Veronica Lodge, trust fund baby whose dad just got arrested for embezzlement and just moved with her mother to her parents' hometown. gives weird out of pocket speeches.

Jughead Jones, emo boy with a weird hat who writes extremely pretentious articles about the town and insists that he has no friends.

Cheryl Blossom, grieving twin, extremely overdramatic for no reason, head of the cheer squad. also notability Madeline Petsch is the only natural redhead on the cast so far.

a non-comprehensive list of all the weird shit that goes down in this episode

Jughead finds out his classmate has died and decides to go to a diner and write a pretentious article abt it instead of, idk, being normal

"six more reasons for you to take that ginger bull by the horns tonight" WHAT THE FUCK

Betty starts telling Archie that she has feelings for him and Veronica shows up in a full cloak for some reason

the Pussycats are always practicing in empty music rooms and seemingly never in class

"you're staring at our pussycat ears, which is rude... the pussycats are building a brand, creating a signature look, okay? we're telling a story." (they're literally just wearing cat ears at school)

"I've tried every flavor of boy but orange." -Veronica

the scene introducing Archie's affair with his music teacher has a lot of lolita inspired imagery and I find that very interesting

Fred Andrews gives his employees paternity leave what an absolute dilf

Cheryl exits a conversation by saying "follow me on twitter!"

it really adds to the absurdist aspect of this show that Archie (15) looks to be the same age as the adult teacher he's having sex with (and somehow the actors have an even larger age gap in real life than they do in the show)

at cheerleading tryouts, Cheryl says Betty and Veronica are missing "heat", so Veronica ends the routine by kissing Betty. I like to believe this was just Veronica finding an excuse to do this.

"check your sell-by date ladies, faux lesbian kissing hasn't been taboo since 1994" -Cheryl, a closeted lesbian (canon)

Veronica's first out of pocket monologue of the season comes after Cheryl rejects Betty from the cheer squad: "I know what you need, Cheryl. because I know who you are. you would rather people fear than like you, so you traffic in terror and intimidation. you're rich, so you've never been held accountable. but I'm living proof... that certainty, that entitlement you wear on your head like a crown, it won't last. eventually, there will be a reckoning. or maybe that reckoning is now... and maybe that reckoning is me. Betty and I come as a matching set. you want one, you take us both. you wanted fire? sorry Cheryl Bombshell, my specialty is ice."

Veronica talks like she's in a commercial at all times

Hiram (Veronica's dad) sends Hermione (her mother) a bag full of loose cash and honestly that's what I want in a husband

they keep Lili Reinhart in that tight Jojo Siwa ponytail for so much of this show that it's a relief to see her with her hair down

"can't we, in this post-James Franco world, be all things at once?" ????

Cheryl asked the pussycats to cover the song her parents claimed to be listening to the night she and Jason were conceived

Betty can't even tell Archie she likes him without reminding him that she's a cheerleader and he's a football player and therefore they MUST be meant for each other

"let's see who's riding the ginger stallion tonight" I think now is a good time to remind everyone that the Riverdale showrunner used to write erotic fanfiction abt the archie comics characters and is CLEARLY living out his fantasies with this show

Jughead finally decided to show up 40 minutes in

the Riverdale water polo team is called the Aquaholics ????

Kevin tries to go skinny dipping and finds Jason's dead body. end of episode

you can find more episodes here :)

#riverdale #the cw riverdale #archie comics #betty cooper #archie andrews #jughead jones #veronica lodge #cheryl blossom #lili reinhart #cole sprouse #madeline petsch #kj apa #camila mendes #rory watches riverdale

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

Hi, I would like to hear more about a mystery inc. buzzfeed unsolved au

you really want me to do headcanons for scooby mcfucking doo now??? fine

okay so it’s entirely Shaggy’s fault

but not on PURPOSE. He didn’t think anyone would take him seriously. He’s still not down for all this ghost hunting shit

the Gang(tm) was in the middle of their weekly routine (watching Ghost Adventurers and eating pot brownies in Daphne’s basement) and Shaggy, who was like, Far Out Man by this point, made some off hand comment that they’d be way better at ghost hunting than Zak fucking Baggins (whom he hates for legitimately no clear reason, likely stemming from a hallucination during a bad trip, but his friends find the unexplained grudge from the normally chill Shaggy hilarious and that’s why they always watch the show lmao)

anyway. he was JOKING

but when he wakes up the next morning, Fred has already created a youtube channel, contacted three different local haunted locations, and is using Daphne’s credit card to buy a shit load of equipment. alrighty.

 Daphne is All Fucking In for this idea, because she secretly never grew out of her middle school witchy girl phase, and she wants some damn validation. She’s already running a marketing campaign online and starting up a merch store. Daph. Daph it’s 8:30 in the morning. Daphne Babe I made the joke like two hours ago,

but she won’t be stopped

Scooby Doo himself abso-fucking-lutely has a legendary shitpost twitter and nobody but the gang knows an Actual Dog is running it but anyway Daphne figures out his password and starts promoting their ghost hunting show there ‘first episode dropping in a week!!!’ and it gets millions of retweets lmao

Shaggy dedicates all morning to trying to talk the two of them out of this

and when Velma finally wakes up she’s like are you guys,,,,, insane,

“Please don’t make me be the type of person who agrees with Shaggy”

at one point she was like ‘Well maybe you two can go be stupid together, this doesn’t really need to be a group thing’ but Fred and Daphne just went 🥺🥺 and her and Shaggy were like ‘Goddammit’ 

So they agree,

and by like the next damn day they’re in a decrepit building. It’s really gross. Shaggy’s desperately calling the vet to make sure Scoob is up to date on his shots gross. There’s an ominous thunderstorm. Very mood appropriate right

they’d spent the afternoon filming the bits where they learned the history of the location, because Daphne is a fast working journalist thanks, and the boys are all sufficiently spooked but Velma’s just like ‘why do I put up with all of you’ lmao

so they’re doing their walkthrough, they’ve got a mix of nice cameras and shitty shaky phone cameras, there’s a go-pro on Scobby’s head, and every single noise Velma refutes. Every single shadow she debunks. Every cold wind she hand waves away

there’s one point where Daphne is like ‘Velma honey you just need to open your mind’ and Velma is like ‘if ghosts are actually real than may God smite me where I stand’ and almost immediately the window next to her gets hit by a lightning strike and she just calmly looks up and deadpans ‘You missed’ 

during their solo walks Shaggy and Scoob come face to face with a full bodied apparition that chases them out of the house and when they’re reviewing the footage later Velma’s insisting it’s Fred in a cheap costume being a dick and Shaggy’s insisting that Fred has never successfully done anything in his life, why would he start now? And Fred is standing behind them looking offended and Daphne’s cackling off screen and anyway the first episode is a FUCKING HIT

even taking Scooby’s twitter audience into account they weren’t expecting this kind of a response 

but everyone’s obsessed with their group dynamic and how well the video managed to shift from comedy to horror so everyone’s hooked

they rush out a second episode that’s just as wild as the first

Fred, scared from seeing the footage of a legit ghost chasing Shaggy and Scoob, turns up with nun-chucks ‘‘dipped in holy water’‘ and whacks himself in the face with them while trying to show off. Daphne thinks the reported ghost looks cute in the pictures she dug up and starts getting flirty during the evp session. Fred has a great idea that they can bait the ghosts using costumes and Shaggy’s like ‘that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said’ and then we hardcut to Shaggy and Scooby looking like this:

Scooby: “Rye rook rike rah dick”

Velma’s still shredding everything like she Won’t believe they even get an evp that says ‘can the chick in the glasses shut up’ ksjddfskjh

look I know traditionally mystery inc unmasks the ghosts and everything but I feel like they wouldn’t be able to post that online with their following??? I feel like that might mess up some criminal trials??? so we’re just going with the early 2000′s ghosts are real angle here, deal with it 

one time Velma says something particularly mean about the ghost’s previous life and they almost immediately pick up crying on the spirit box and Fred’s like ‘You hurt her feelings :/, tell the ghost you’re sorry Velma’ and she’s like no????? that’s clearly just a cat?? and then a rock almost hits her head but she insists it was because Scooby must’ve bumped into a shelf 

 some running gags for their fans include:

Obsessing over how Scooby can talk. Almost every Q&A video they get a question that’s just like ‘how the FUCK is the dog doing that please’ and the gang is always just like ‘What do you mean?’ and then Scooby just goes ‘Reah, rwhat ro rou mean?’ and then they just move onto the next question sdkjsdf

Velma and Shaggy making the hotdogga specifically to piss off Daphne, only instead of hotdogs it’s scooby snacks

 Daphne implying in one episode that she did, in fact, manage to successfully fuck a ghost, but she chose to exclude the footage to preserve modesty 

‘spot how many joints you can see in this episode’ 

 “Shaggy Rogers Buy A New Shirt Challenge” 

Velma once referred to Fred as the ‘communal sugar baby’ and no one is capable of moving on from that statement

one episode where Shaggy went on a five minute rant, uninterrupted, about how he could totally kick Zak Baggin’s ass. Daphne slowly pans in on his twiggy arms the more heated he gets. Zak Baggin’s retweeted the video without comment.

before episodes drop they always put up polls that are like ‘how do you think Fred’s plan will backfire this week?’ lmao

Velma’s glasses falling off right before a full bodied apparition appears before the rest of the group and since she didn’t see anything she thinks they’re talking bullshit so for like a month everyone was flooding her social media just begging her to buy some contacts

bets on what absolutely impractical but killer outfit Daphne will be wearing to a condemned building each episode 

okay I’m sorry I love this but I’m getting tired right now but anyway basically the entire dynamic of this show is:

Fred

Scooby

Daphne 

Shaggy

and Velma

and it’s very iconic I love this idea lmao

#scooby doo #mystery inc #shaggy rogers #daphne blake #bfu #asks #molly mumbles

[hawkinslibrary]

What do u think about the new filming pics of natalia, gaten, and sadie? 😶

i’m gonna try putting this under a read more but if that doesn’t work please stop reading if you don’t want any kind of spoilers !! i’ll be using my spoiler tags, too, so remember to blacklist/filter out ‘s4′, ‘st4’, and the ‘spoilers’ tags !!

seriously -- this goes in depth about set pics, audition videos, and theories. 

i’m so sorry this is so incredibly long lmao. i’m just sitting on all this s4 stuff and i want to talk about it.

bottom line, i’m excited. i’m just happy to see that they’re filming again tbh, and i hope that they’ll be staying as safe and healthy as possible and that there won’t be any more major delays.

as for the content, i’m pretty happy about that, too. i love all of these characters and dynamics pretty equally, so any content with any of them is great to me. i think there was also a pic of priah on set that day, too, but it was far away and you couldn’t really see her that well. ultimately, it seems like there will be a lot of s1 and s2 vibes with the whole school setting, as a large part of the main cast will be together at hawkins high instead of off doing their own things during the summer.

i know a ton of people want a winter season, but i personally think it’ll be spring and i think nancy’s outfit in particular kinda points in that direction. plus, i don’t think they’d skip past nancy, robin, and jonathan’s senior year or the party’s first year of high school/el’s potential first year of school ever. they could do fall again and start right where we left off in s3 with the 3 month time jump, or they could do flashbacks to the holidays and time we’ll be missing. but i think the bulk of the season will be set in spring. spring has easter, easter = resurrection, david keeps referring to hopper being alive as a resurrection, strangerwriters twitter specifically brought up making easter jokes with hopper’s name, etc.

i have to bring up the s4 audition tapes that surfaced a while ago. i know they’re a controversial topic (are they real? should we put any thought into them? do they actually reflect any part of s4 at all? why would these be open to the public if they’re legit? etc., etc.), but for this ask and for the part of me that’s grasping onto like... any potential s4 info, i’m gonna be looking at them as if they’re real.

this one is for ‘warden hatch’, who is the head of a psychiatric hospital. now, we know pennhurst is gonna be in s4. we know natalia filmed there before production shut down. people said maya was also on set that day. the scenes in this audition have him talking to two girls who happen to be very smart and have a taste for investigating. they’re obviously lying about being in college (or, at least, at that particular college with that particular professor), so i think it counts as confirmation that the two of them are still in high school, or at the very least working around hawkins. i just can’t see why nancy would be at hawkins high if she wasn’t still a student.

this one is for ‘eddie’, the ‘80s metalhead who is into metallica, loves d&d, and is a potential ally. he’s also apparently a drug dealer. so. his audition mentions hellfire a lot. ‘the hellfire club’ is the name of the first episode of s4. and now we have a picture of gaten on set in a shirt that says ‘hellfire club’. at the end of s3, in the news report, they allude to dungeons and dragons being linked to satanism. it seems like this is something the hellfire club (apparently, a club for lovers of d&d) will be dealing with. there’s also a present rivalry of ‘jocks v. nerds’ with the club and the basketball team, which we know will also play a part in s4. in the audition, ‘eddie’ is talking to ‘paul’ (”you were wearing your weird al shirt”) and ‘curtis’ (”you were wearing whatever shit your mom got you from the goddamned gap”), who are... obviously dustin and mike. they tell him that ‘fred’ (lucas) will be missing the club meeting because he has to play basketball.

which brings us to ‘jason’ and the most uh... obvious? of the audition tapes. this is a scene from a pep rally for a championship basketball game, where ‘jason’ literally name drops heather, billy, and hopper, who all “perished in that fire” (aka the cover up for the battle of starcourt). now, ‘jason’ is dating ‘molly’, a cheerleader who goes to ‘eddie’ to buy drugs (which i think is the second scene included in ‘eddie’s’ audition above). this second ‘jason’ audition has the pep rally scene as well as a scene where ‘jason’ tells the basketball team they need to hunt down the ‘freaks’ in the hellfire club (but especially ‘eddie’) because something happened to ‘molly’ and he blames them (bc of the whole drugs and satanists thing). one of the basketball players speaks up to tell him that they aren’t satanists, it’s just a d&d club. i believe this basketball player is lucas (”and how exactly is it you know all that?” “my sister, she’s like.. a total nerd. she plays sometimes.”) and the basketball team/jason have no idea that he’s affiliated with the hellfire club.

so there are a few different situations which could lead up to the scene in the pictures with dustin and max, but there’s one more audition i need to talk about first. this isn’t the full audition because the original was deleted, but mrs. kelley is the new guidance counselor at hawkins high. her audition video seems to be a scene where she’s talking to a student about their home life and their grades. the situation in the scene is very reminiscent of max’s current situation and i think the full scene even mentioned the loss of a brother or something ? so, one parent is drinking and having to work two jobs after one asshole stepparent leaves, but things are still better with them gone. i think max might be retreating a little, pulling away from the party. in fact, i think both physical and emotional distance is going to be a theme in s4. like, not only is everyone in different places, but they’re going to be drifting into new situations with new people and new interests and all these new personal conflicts, i guess.

so, if we’re operating under the assumption that the audition vids are legit, maybe the scene is after the pep rally and dustin is checking up on max. she’s been hit pretty hard by billy’s death bc despite everything, despite how messed up and complicated everything was, he’s still been right there with her for years and she had to watch him die brutally. maybe she doesn’t want to think about it and maybe when ‘jason’ mentions his loss, it brings everything to the surface. or, maybe the scene is after the hellfire club meeting. dustin could be asking if she’s seen lucas or if she wants to be his replacement at the meeting. whatever it is, it doesn’t look like it ends on a very positive note.

uhhhhh in conclusion, nancy’s outfit suggests a spring season, she should still be in school along with robin, dustin is a part of the hellfire club, max is emo, and i’m very excited and happy.

#you literally just asked what i thought of some pictures i am so embarrassing #thank you for the question though !! 💖 #answered #Anonymous #s4 #st4 #spoilers

[serenagaywaterford]

It’s fucking crazy how in a show meant to wake the general populace up, people really do seem to hate majority of the female characters. Note it’s only the complex ones, because god forbid Margret Atwood wrote them as shades of grey and not as definitively “evil” or “good”.

I’ve been in quite a few shitty fandoms in my day but I’m not certain I’ve been in one quite as overwhelmingly tone deaf as The Handmaid’s Tale fandom. I have never seen so much hypocrisy and virtue signalling and fake wokeness in a singular fandom with source material (in terms of the original novel and S1/2 at least) that directly opposes those things. Like I was in GoT fandom for a while and holy shit the misogyny there. So, I know what it looks like. But the thing about that hellplace was that there was still a fairly recognisable and approachable faction that loudly and actively spoke out about the sheer number of issues with GoT (racism, misogyny, etc.) I feel like those people gave up on the show about mid-run, and GoT was left with a bunch of idiots and “libfems” by the end.

The thing about THT is that it appears to be 95% idiots and fake-woke “feminists” I put it in quotes cos they are NOT feminists. They just like to identify as that cos it’s trendy. They have no idea what feminism is if they centre Nick in the THT narrative, or refuse to engage with any female character other than June or Emily in any rational way and instead wish rape, violence, torture, death, and/or intense suffering on any female character (or apparently actor who plays said character!) they personally dislike because they don’t have the braincells to understand what Atwood specifically was trying to do.)

When THT becomes all about a MALE and his precious fweelings, and his uwu luv stowwy wiv Jwune and all they focus on is how “cool” June is for bullying other Handmaids into suicide, and how “awesome” she is for being 1000% selfish and self-absorbed and not caring at all about all the other women (esp. poor women of colour) she tramples on to get what she wants, that is NOT GOOD. This is a character who purposely and actively manipulated a domestic abuse victim to go back to her abusive, violent, cheater, rapist husband for June’s own ends. (And surprise, surprise that blew up in her face and people really take June’s side 100% on that cos “Serena deserves Fred” aka “Serena deserves to be beaten, raped, and abused by her husband because she’s a bad woman who has done bad things herself”. When you are saying a woman, no matter who they are, deserves to be beaten and raped and imprisoned in that situation, you are not a feminist because that isn’t justice for Serena’s crimes. That is torture.) Nothing June did in S3 was heroic. She is almost no better than the woman she hates at this point. I see very little difference between June and Serena anymore, and yet… YET fans think the sun shines out of June’s ass and Serena should be raped to death (aka “Wouldn’t it be soooo cool if Serena became a Handmaid?! Omg so cool! She deserves it! Hurr durr I am FEMINIST!!!!”).

O.o

There is zero nuance in THT fandom. It’s fine to dislike female characters. It’s fine to be critical of them. It’s fine to like male characters (I guess…). But centring men in a woman’s story and then parroting Gilead’s ideals unironically while calling yourself woke? It’s terrifying. 

June is so gross in S3, and when she isn’t being awful, she’s written as some child-crazed, hysterical woman. The writers’ full sexism and internalized (or externalized lol) misogyny on clear display. And the fans just LAP IT UP with no critical thought. No complaint. Like, “Yes, this is what a woman should be!” nevermind the entire purpose of the commentary in the novel (and S1) was that women are MORE than just hysterical, overly emotional baby-machines or housekeepers. Women are not mere resources to be harvested like cattle. Women have more personality than just “ME WANT BABBY!!!” Women are resourceful and complex and not all good, not all bad. Women are conflicted and conflicting. Meanwhile, now the show presents women almost identically to how Serena Joy wrote about them, and how Gilead has identified them, and the fans are like “Yeah! This is fine! I don’t see any problems with this at all!”

And if you dare say, “Um, guys, that’s a pretty bad take. Do you understand what you’re actually saying?” you get called a “rape apologist!!! HURRRR!!!! WHAT ABUT 2x10!!!!!” And it literally doesn’t matter what you challenge these fans about, whether it’s Nick, the themes of THT, Serena, June, etc. They see you are a fan of Serena and suddenly the discourse deteriorates completely to “Nazi!!!! you’re a rapist nazi sympathizer!!!!!!!!!” 

So, there’s no point in talking to any of them. Yeah, cos I’m the one saying women I don’t like deserve to be raped and beaten until they die as slaves in an oppressive fascist regime. (That’s actually you guys, jsyk.) My favourite was being compared to an MRA. Like, do you people even read what you write? 

I’m not the one talking non-stop about how great Mr. Soggy Pancake Man is and how we must protect this precious bean in a story about massive female oppression uwu. “BUT WHAT ABOUT NICK?!?! MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTER!!!” I hate men, lol. I can’t count the number of times I’ve literally said, “I don’t give a shit about ANY of the men in THT. I only care about women and you people are misogynistic pigs for the way you talk about women.” yet I’m a Men’s Rights Activist?

What I hear when I go into the tags: 

“All women are awful harpies and stupid or boring except this specific one cos we want her to bone the Cute Boy we’re obsessed with and she’s just basically a self-insert for our own lonely fantasies and we need to only hear about the Cute Boy, not these annoying women. If a woman character interferes or challenges my heterosexual fantasy OTP in any way, that woman must suffer and die, and I’ll laugh and cheer as that happens, especially if she’s beaten by her husband or loses her mind/commits suicide! They deserve it! Also, who really cares about all those other women’s stories elsewhere in the world. BORING! My white saviour self-insert main female character can do no wrong because I am perfect! I’ll even go out of my way and actively search out people who aren’t doing anything to me, aren’t talking to me at all and just keeping to themselves, and send online threats, hate, and insults to anybody who doesn’t agree with me about how great Mr. Stale Bread is and they’re Nazis for not agreeing with me.” 

And I’M the MRA? I’m the crazy one?

No self-awareness at all. No nuance. No critical thinking skills. And a HELL of a lot of projection that they don’t even seem to know they’re making. There are grown ass women (like 40 YEAR OLDS!) who worship Nick Bland’s ugly dick, online bullying literal minors who don’t subscribe to the Serena-Hate groupthink. It’s a cesspool. THT fandom fucking SUCKS. I’m gonna guess it’s these same morons who wished that Yvonne would lose her baby cos you hate SERENA. Like, if you don’t think this is disgusting, I don’t know how else to get it through to you that something is VERY WRONG with the vast majority of online THT fandom.

99% of this fandom doesn’t seem to give a fuck what Atwood was trying to say in her novel, or what the show intentionally set out to do challenge and prove. Anyway, anon. I feel ya. I hate this fandom which is why I never check the tags anymore, never go on Twitter, unfollowed the Insta, don’t go on FB, and stick with my very wonderful small group of non-crazies who also appreciate the complex, difficult character of Serena here – and block everyone else I can because I just don’t have time for that kind of constant drama and aggravation from ignorant people.

Wow. Okay. Sorry. Rant over.

#the handmaid's tale #tunglr dot hell #Anonymous

[numba99]

The Arrangement Part 4

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

Summary:  You’re an aspiring model in NYC who is offered an opportunity of a lifetime - an arranged relationship with a famous Ranger. Things start out rough and are further complicated by the fact you’re already in a relationship. Will you be able to figure things out or will it all end in disaster? Word Count: 3,682

Warnings: smut

The next morning you woke up to a pounding head, the crying from last night lingering as a pressure headache. You lifted your head to check the time and realized it was past eleven. You groaned, knowing you couldn’t spend all day in bed even though you really wanted to.You picked up your phone from the pillow next to you, your heart dropping when you looked at the screen.

You had hundreds  of notifications. Instagram, Twitter, it had all blown up over night. Your follower count had spiked into the thousands and you had countless new likes and comments on your pictures, some of them not so nice.

“She’s not even that pretty… lol”

“Slut”

“That’s her? he could do better”

It went on and on. They weren’t all bad, many were saying nice things and trying to silence the mean comments, yet the negative ones seemed to stick out so much more. You tried to turn off your notifications, but they were coming in so fast your phone was crapping out.

“Ugh,” you groaned, tossing your phone down on the pillow after it froze once again. This is so not what you needed right now. You wanted to call Mika and talk, he was the only person you knew who would understand what you were going through.

It suddenly dawned on you that you could access your accounts on your laptop and change the settings that way. You flipped up your laptop and quickly got into your accounts, shutting off notifications before they could mess up your laptop too.

You returned to your phone, letting out a small cheer when you were finally able to get into it without it crashing (it’s the little victories that count, right?). You when straight for your contacts, you finger hovering over the call button under Mika’s name. You don’t know why, but you suddenly got nervous. You thought maybe you shouldn’t call him, yet you still found yourself pressing call.

Mika picked up after two rings. “Morning.”

“You were right.”

“I usually am, but you’re going to have to be more specific about what I was right about this time,” Mika replied. You didn’t have to see him to know he had a smirk on his face.

“About the notifications. I thought my phone was going to blow up,” you told him.

“It’s crazy isn’t it?”

“You could say that again,” you sighed, “I’ve got nasty comments all over my pages already.”

“I’m sorry y/n, you don’t deserve that,” Mika replied, “Believe me, I know how it feels. It’s easier said than done, but just ignore it. You’re worth more than some stupid comments from people who don’t even know you.”

“Thanks Mika,” you smiled, knowing he was right.

“How’d things go with Eric last night?”

“Not good,” you admitted.

“Are you broken up?”

“I-I don’t know actually. I mean no one said it’s over, but when I left, I don’t know, it felt serious. We’ve never fought like that before,” you told him.

“What do you want?” he asked. You opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out. You realized you hadn’t thought about what you wanted.

“I’m not sure,” you said finally,

“Well that would seem like a good place to start,” he said. You groaned. “What?”

“You really are right all the time. It’s annoying,” you explained.

Mika chuckled, “You better get used to it, you’re going to have to deal with my annoying ass all weekend.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Did you not get our next date assignment?” As if by clockwork, your phone beeped with another incoming call. It was Alice.

“No, but I think I’m about to. I’ll talk to you in a little,” you told him.

“Later, y/n,” Mika replied.

You quickly switched over the call so you wouldn’t miss it. “Hey Alice.”

“Hi y/n, how are things going with you and Mika?” she asked, not that it really mattered to her whether it was going well or not.

“Good,” you replied, “Mika’s been really nice.”

“Glad to hear it. I also wanted to let you know how well you did with your first public outing with him. Mika’s management is really happy with how everything is going, and if they’re happy I’m happy,” Alice said.

“That’s good,” you replied, not really sure what else to say. You just wanted to hear what you were going to be doing next.

“Right, well I hope you’re not busy this weekend because we’ve set up a get away for the two of you,” Alice told you.

“What?” you asked, in complete shock. This was the worst possible timing.

“Yeah, we’ve got you a lake house upstate. Every hot couple gets outed on a getaway together,” Alice said as if it was obvious.

“Alice I- I can’t right now, things are a little crazy,” you tried, knowing it probably wouldn’t change anything.

“You don’t really have a choice, y/n, it’s part of the contract. I’m sorry things are crazy for you, but you’ve got a couple days to figure it out before you leave,” She replied. You sighed, knowing that would be the answer. It was worth a shot.

“Fred will pick you up Friday morning and bring you back Sunday night. You guys have to stay at the house the whole time. We are tipping off some photographers, but they won’t be able to get too close, so make sure you spend some time outside. Also, there are two bedrooms there and you’re expected to use them. You and Mika shouldn’t be getting physical. This is business,” Alice instructed you.

“Don’t worry, that won’t be an issue,” you assured her. After a few final details, you said goodbye. For the second time in 12 hours you flopped down on your bed, wondering what the hell you were doing.

It took two full days fro Eric to call you. Nerves shot down your spine as you went to answer it.

“Hey,” you said sheepishly.

“Hey,” he replied quietly. There were a few moments of silence before he finally spoke again, “Listen, y/n, I wanted to apologize for yelling at you the way I did the other night. I shouldn’t have done that. I just saw you holding his hand and people were finding out who you were and I don’t know, I got angry and embarrassed thinking about what people would say. It made me snap and I’m sorry, it wasn’t right.”

“It’s alright, Eric. I know it looks bad. I shouldn’t have held his hand, but there was suddenly tons of paparazzi and I got really freaked out so he was just helping me through the crowd. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I know I did and I’m really sorry,” you replied. You hadn’t really thought about it from Eric perspective until now. Suddenly his girlfriend was with one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City and everyone was talking about it, that couldn’t be easy. You knew if the roles were reversed you would be upset.

“It’s okay baby, I just hate that were fighting like this. I want to see you, can we hang out this weekend?” he asked. You held back a groan, silently asking why the universe was punishing you like this.

“I would love to, but I can’t this weekend. I got booked to do a photo shoot upstate. We can do something we get back, though. I really want to see you too,” you told him.

“Upstate? And all weekend?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to not sound nervous, “It’s a fall themed shoot so they want us with all the colorful trees.”

“Us? As in Mika?”

“No, there’s a couple girls from the agency going. We’re all staying in a cabin together,” you lied.

“Oh, that sounds fun. I hope you have a good time babe. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you when you get back. I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you replied. With that, the two of you hung up and you felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. To get your mind off of how shitty you felt, you started packing for the trip, since it was tomorrow and you hadn’t started yet.

Per usual, you over packed. It was only three days, but being the person you were, you needed multiple outfits, because you didn’t know what mood you’d be when you got there. Of course you need to bring a bunch of little things that you probably wouldn’t need, but had to pack on the off chance you did. The good thing about your nerves running around making you over pack was that it exhausted you. For the first time in a few days you actually had a restful sleep.

Despite sleeping well, you were tired when you woke because it was too damn early for you. You got ready in groggy haze, glad you packed last night because you definitely would have forgot things if you had tried to pack right now.

Fred came to your door and took your bags for you. You thanked him as he opened the door to the car for you, allowing you to slide in.

“Someone’s not a morning person,” Mika teased. He smiled brightly at you, looking as good as usual

“And of course you are,” you playfully rolled your eyes. “Is it wrong that I was kind of expecting flowers?” you teased.

“I’ve already sent them to the cabin,” Mika laughed.

“Of course you did,” you replied shaking your head. It didn’t take long for your sleepiness to catch up to you, drifting off in the back seat next to Mika. The next thing you knew, you were waking up on Mika’s shoulder. “Sorry,” you mumbled, a blush rising to your cheeks as you shifted away from him.

“S’alright,” Mika smiled softly, “Fell asleep for a bit myself.” You looked at the window, gasping at the cabin you were pulling up to. It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely more than enough for two people to share. You could see a little lake peaking out form behind the cabin, which was framed by amber shaded trees.

“It’s beautiful,” you marveled.

“Guess there are some perks to fake dating me,” Mika smirked, hopping out of the car. You followed him out, breathing in the fresh, crisp air. You smiled, instantly feeling refreshed. This is exactly what you needed right now.

You and Mika grabbed your things from the trunk of the car, eager to get inside. “I’ll be back Sunday evening,” Fred told you two, “Try not to get into too much trouble.” The both of you laughed and promise to behave.

You followed Mika to the front door, nearly skipping inside. The interior of the cabin has a rustic vibe, making it feel so welcoming and cozy. The both of you walked around, exploring your house for the weekend. You stopped at the dining table, where a bouquet of sunflowers stood proudly.

“Sunflowers?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Thought you needed some sunshine in your life after everything with Eric,” he shrugged. Damn it, you thought, did he have to be so thoughtful all the time? No wonder so many girls were in love with him.

“Thank you Mika, I appreciate it,” you said, “but I need you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“No Eric talk this weekend. We spoke before I left, and smoothed things over, but I don’t know, I still feel like things have changed with us. I’m not really sure what I want to do yet, so I guess I just need a few days to clear my head.”

“Say no more,” he replied, “No Eric talk. I promise.” He held up his pinky and you smiled, locking yours around it. With that, the two of you went to your respective rooms to unpack for a bit.

Once you finished, you wandered out, finding Mika in the kitchen. “Have they got anything to eat around here? I’m starved,” you said, peaking into the cabinets.

“I’d say they’ve got more than enough,” Mika told you. He was right, the cabinets were completely stocked. They really must not want us going anywhere.

The two of you picked out some food to eat for lunch and hung out in the living room. You spent the afternoon together inside enjoying each others company. Mika brought a deck of cards with him, and the two of you got into a super competitive game of spit.

“Ha! I win!” you exclaimed, slapping your hand down. Mika hung his head in defeat, tossing his cards down with playful frustration. You laughed, in the back of your head thinking that you couldn’t remember the last time you had so much fun with someone while doing something so simple.

“Good game, y/n,” Mika congratulated you, “Not many people can beat me, I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, it was an honor to beat you,” you replied.

“Well all that losing made me hungry,” Mika said, “I’m gonna make some pasta, want some?” You nodded and he went off to cook the two of you dinner. You stretched out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the TV. Truthfully, you weren’t that interested in watching it. You wanted to join Mika in the kitchen and talk to him some more, but you thought it was best to give yourself a little distance from him.

A little while later, Mika returned with two bowls of pasta in his hand. “I was thinking we could sit out on the back porch,” he suggested. You agreed, following him out the sliding glass doors.

The two of you settled into a little patio couch that overlooked the lake. The sun was setting, casting soft pink hues across the sky. It looked like something right out of a painting. You and Mika sat in a comfortable silence as you ate, watching the sky shift into an inky black, dotted with sparkling stars.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars in my life,” you said, admiring the twinkling sky.

“Me neither,” Mika agreed, “I think when I settle down, I’m going to buy a place like this. Live out my days with my wife and our kids in pretty little house surrounded by nature.”

You nodded. “I love the city, but I’ve always thought I would end up somewhere more peaceful. I would love to have a view like this everyday.”

“Can I tell you something?” Mka asked, turning to look at you. His eyes were a darker shade of green in the night, looking into them made your stomach do flips.

“Of course.”

“Usually I hate doing this, but I’m glad I got matched with you,” he admitted shyly, “I don’t meet many genuine people in my line of work, but I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart swelled at his words. “Thanks Mika, that means a lot to me. I’m glad I’ve gotten to meet you too.” Mika smiled softly, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Your heart thudded in your ears, waiting for him to say or do something.

“It’s sort of cold,” you said suddenly, cutting the tension. You stood up, feeling like you needed to get away from him or you may do something you would regret.

“I’ve got a really warm sweater inside, if you want to borrow it,” Mika said.

“Yeah, thanks,” you nodded. Anything to get out of the situation you were in. You followed him back into the house and into his room. He opened a drawer and dug out a yellow and black sweater. He tossed it over to you and you somehow managed to catch it, despite the nerves you were feeling. It felt soft and warm… and expensive.

“Thanks,” you said again, as he walked over to you, “I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

“We could share mine, if you’d like since it’s so cold,” Mika suggested softly.

“I- I uh don’t know, we’re supposed to use the separate rooms,” you stammered, feeling flustered as he moved closer to you.

“No one has to know,” he whispered, his hand brushing over yours.

“What, you don’t think they’ve got cameras all over here?” you asked, trying to break the mood.

“There’s no cameras, babe, just you and I,” Mika stated, taking a step closer to you. His face was inches from yours, his warm, minty scent clouding your senses. You hadn’t missed that he called you babe, nor did you miss how your body reacted to it. You liked it. A lot. 

His eyes were locked on your as he gentled brushed his finger down the side of your cheek. You stood frozen, though your mind was racing, screaming, telling you should push him away and go to sleep in your own bed. That was what you should do, but not a single part of you wanted to.

He took your face in his hand, bringing your lips to his. Your knees went weak, your heart fluttering in pure delight. Once the shock wore off, you were able to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers twisted in his thick, brown locks as his lips moved perfectly against yours. He leaned further into you, kissing you deeper as his tongue slid across yours.

Mika wrapped his arms around your waist and started walking towards the bed. He slid his hands under your shirt, pulling it off before gently pushing you back onto the bed. Mika pulled off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor alongside yours. You bit your lip, taking his muscular frame. He was beautiful.

Mika’s lips ghosted across your jaw and down your neck, giving you goosebumps. They loved expertly across the sensitive skin of your neck, pulling breathy moans from your parted lips. Mika moved down lower, kissing the valley between your breasts, before removing your bra.

“A tattoo?,” he smirked, he finger running across the ink on the side of your ribs, right by your breast.

“Only the best people get to find it,” you laughed. 

Mika smirked, pressing a soft kiss over your tattoo. “Lucky me.”

His tongue slid over one nipple, while his hand twisted and played with the other. The sensation of both his tongue hands working on you caused your arousal to pool in between your legs.

Mika moved down to your pants, making your heart pound. He must have sensed your nervousness because his eyes flickered up to yours, asking for approval. You nodded quickly and he went back to work, sliding his pants down your legs. He ran a finger over your clothed core, sending a shiver down your spine, before looping his finger through the fabric and taking it off.

Laying naked before Mika made you blush. You shift a little, trying to cover yourself, feeling self conscious. “Don’t,” Mika breathed, holding your leg in place, “You’re so beautiful.”

Mika undid his jeans, kicking them off. You licked your lips, looking at the bulge hidden behind his black boxers. However, your view was cut off when he leaned down in front of you, his face just inches from the place that ached for him. Your body was buzzing in anticipation, desperate for any kind of contact.

He licked up your slit, long and slow, making you gasp. His plump lips enveloped your aching clit, sucking on the sensitive numb. He slipped a finger in side you, pumping quickly. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him closer against you as whimpers left your mouth. Mika made quick work of you, looking up at you through his thick, dark lashes. He smirked against you, loving how you squirmed under his touch.

He replaced his fingers with his tongue, relentlessly lapping at you. The new sensation made you come undone, spiraling into a fit of ecstasy . You cried out a mixture of curses and moans, pulling at his hair as he finished you off.

Once you finished, Mika sat up, licking his lips before wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. A confident glint sparkled in his eyes as he pulled down his boxers, leaving him completely bare. He was fully hard, tip red in swollen, the sight alone making your core throb.

Mika lined himself up to you, making you wriggle in anticipation. “May I?” He asked.

“Please,” you voice came out just above a whisper. He slid into you, his cool demeanor cracking just slightly as he felt your warmth around him.

“Fuck, y/n, you fell so good,” he groaned. Mika slid out of you and repeated the action, slowly at first. Once you had adjusted to him, he moved faster, thrusting his hips against you.You let out gasping moans, each long stroke building the pleasure in your stomach up to near unbearable levels.

“M-Mika I’m close,” you gasped.

“’M gonna make you feel so good,” he replied, gripping your hips. He pulled you up closer to him, allowing him to hit deeper inside you. You only lasted a few more thrusts at this new angle, before being plunged into your second mind-numbing orgasm of the night.

“Mika!” you moaned as you clenched down around him. Feeling you tighten around him and hearing cry out his name in pure bliss set him off. His hips twitched, his head falling back as his face contorted with pleasure.

“Oh fuck, y/n,” he groaned, as he released himself inside you. Mika continued with a few sloppy thrusts, so you both enjoy every last second of your highs. Once you both finished, his slid out of you, pulling the thick blankets over your naked bodies as you caught your breath.

“That was…” you voice trailed off, in search of the right word.

“Amazing,” Mika finished for you.

“Amazing,” you confirmed, curling against him. He wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on the top of your head, before you both drifted off to sleep.

[beesmygod]

this is what riverdale is about (part 4)

part 1

part 2

part 3

i’m back, to continue from where we left off. obnoxiously, i’m going to take a minute to plug my patreon, which is primarily for my webcomic but i also do movie reviews and talk about bad books i find so if you like these posts, you’ll probably like those as well. all i ask....is one dollar a month.

anyway fuck that let’s get back into this.

images are from the riverdale wiki

SEASON ONE (PART 2):

the last picture show: immediately this show reveals that our beloved jughead has been living in a nearly abandoned drive-in that he also works at. too bad for him, because it’s closing down. hilariously, literally nobody in his circle of friends cares and call his make-shift house a crack den. owned. its revealed an anonymous buyer purchased it from the town and the mayor decided to sell it to whoever.

archie brings flowers to his teacher-girlfriend’s recital and when he and grundy (and his dad) head to pop’s for a good ol malt or whatever, betty confronts him about his relationship. betty is hurt when he says grundy believed in him when no one else did and goes home with renewed purpose: take grundy down.

veronica’s mom is caught having a heated argument with a member of the southside serpents gang next to a dumpster by cheryl who, as she delights in misery and disaster, captures it all on camera. she shows veronica, who confronts her mother who brushes her off.

betty lures grundy into a fake interview for her school paper instead of going to the police. betty seems to be determining all of this based on the fact that she didnt have any social media until a year ago, which really makes me question betty’s journalistic bonefides. its framed like this means she didn’t exist before she got a twitter or whatever. its really weird. more relevant is that the only record of a geraldine grundy.....WAS AN OLD WOMAN WHO DIED 7 YEARS AGO!!!!! she takes this information to archie as well, who doesn’t care at all. he’s way too horny to care.

betty breaks into grundy’s vw bug and finds a gun and her real i.d. with her real name. archie is still too horny to care, even though betty (again, really overstepping her journalistic bounds) says that grundy might have killed jason (BASED ON THE EXISTENCE OF A GUN BETTY!!! COME ON). archie finally asks grundy straight up what the fuck is going on and she cops to trying to escape from an abusive husband, hence the gun and fake names.

jughead finds out that archie’s dad’s construction company won the bid to destroy the drive-in. its a bad time to be jughead. he tries to ask archie’s dad not to tear down the drive-in. through this convo we learn that jughead’s dad was fired from andrews construction several years ago for theft. a scene after this reveals that veronica’s mom is facilitating the purchase of the drive-in with the mayor pn behalf of her incarcerated husband.

i’m so glad the wiki reminded me of this line, word for word: everyone (and i mean literally everyone in town) goes to the drive-in for one last hurrah, where the southside serpents are guffawing up a storm. veronica somehow silences them by saying “You know what happens to a snake when a Louboutin heel steps on it? Shut the hell up or you’ll find out.“ it sucks so bad. veronica then witnesses her mother having an encounter with the same gang member who she is revealed to be paying to drive down the value of the drive-in property so hiram lodge can buy it for cheap.

archie and grundy are caught in a passionate embrace after betty’s mom reads her diary and goes on the warpath, rightfully telling her to get the fuck out of town or she’ll reveal her to be a child molester. grundy agrees to leave and archie is heartbroken. the last show of geraldine this season is her ogling two teen boys. horrible. leave, woman.

jughead leaves his shitty home and on his way out is accosted by the same gang member who was talking to hermoine lodge and is revealed to be....JUGHEADS DAD!!!!!!!!!! whatever.

heart of darkness: the town is abuzz with jason’s upcoming funeral and the teens of riverdale are fighting over who gets to take the dead kids spot as captain of the football team in a really normal and not at all super ghoulish way. archie is working his heart out now that his favorite teacher/pedophile has fled town. he has his time wasted by a member of the pussycats, valerie, who nets him a meeting with a music songwriter who tells archie he doesn’t have time for his shit. its a weird and totally pointless scene in the long run. it doesnt matter because archie’s music thing never comes to anything. the guy tells archie later, when he returns with sheet music, that his songs suck shit and he hates his music and to get out of his office.

jason and polly’s (betty’s sister) relationship seems to be at the center of whatever happened to jason, so betty starts asking around town about her sister, by using dates as a cover to ask probing questions to members of the football team. she also tries asking her father, who explains that polly and jason had a fight, polly tried to kill herself and so was shipped off to a mental institution. learning about jason’s death fucked her up again so they shan’t be exposing her to more sordid info about the events. the only information they get is that jason was selling drugs to raise money to leave town.

betty and jughead trace this thread to find out why jason would want to leave town but veronica is already finding out firsthand after she is invited to the blossom mansion for the world’s worst sleepover before the memorial (cool timing): the blossoms are all insane. they make their money on maple syrup, using the funds to build riverdale as we know it. veronica and cheryl bond over their awful parents and versonic encourages cheryl to act out at jason’s memorial FOR SOME REASON. KNOWING FULL WELL WHO CHERYL IS.

demonstrating extremely normal judgement, betty and jughead plan to raid jason’s room during the memorial to find clues. cheryl goes full hamlet, throwing herself on the coffin and weeping during her eulogy. they use this as cover to sneak away and go commit the worst social faux-pax you truly can do. however, they are interrupted by cherly’s senile grandmother, nana rose, who mistakes her for polly and reveals polly and jason were engaged. 

betty takes this information to her father who reveals he already knows but forbid the arrangement because the blossoms and the coopers have been trying to kill each other for decades over the whole maple syrup empire thing. betty and jughead later suspect her dad broke into the sheriff's office to steal his files related to uhhh everything i guess; a hunch which turns out to be correct.

meanwhile veronica’s mom is sent a live snake by the serpent gang, calls big strong fred andrews to come save her and then asks him for a job.

faster pussycats! kill! kill!: first of all fuck, the name of this ep.

archie, for some reason because i guess he doesn’t know what embarrassment is, decides he’s going to play an original song he wrote for the school talent show. he immediately gets stage fright at the try-outs and wusses out. veronica goes behind his back to sign him up anyway. thanks, asshole!

valerie, from the last ep, quits the pussycats because josie is slightly more stressed than usual about uhhh the talent show. also because she has a crush on archie for some reason.

hermoine, while acting as fred andrews’ new secretary, realizes he’s fucking BROKE. why’d he hire her? who knows. too late now. she suggests firing some people (for example............her, maybe, fred) but fred cant bear it...and is hoping to be saved by the newest construction job he doesn’t know that hermoine is manipulating under the table. much like his son, fred is now too horny to care and they make out while veronica watches awkwardly.

the remaining pussycats try to figure out what to do about their missing member problem. josie’s mom helpfully lays out that they need a strong woman of color, but not one prettier or more talented than josie. enter...VERONICA!!! who is miffed because archie replaced her with valerie in the talent show duet. veronica is now scientifically less pretty and talented than josie by show standards, which just rules because i love thinking that there are teen power rankings in riverdale.

betty and jughead make their way to visit polly at The Sisters Of Quiet Mercy which is literally the best name for a goth cover band in the world. surprise! polly is pregnant with jason’s baby. polly reveals she and jason planned to run away together, but she was caught by her parents and sent away. she then awkwardly asks how jason is and someone has to break the news to her.

josie’s dad makes a brief appearance, which i absolutely do not remember at all. i thought he only showed up in season 3 which makes mayor mccoys character arc way more awkward. anyway, the mccoy family, the andrews and the lodges all have dinner together to discuss business and its awkward as all hell. no one at the table likes the andrews.

betty straight up asks her dad if he killed jason and her mom laughs her ass off at the idea of betty’s soft white suburban ham shank looking dad being able to kill a weed much less a human. keep that in mind.

veronica’s mom forges veronica signature on a form allowing andrews construction to move ahead with the job.

jughead and betty kiss after talking about how they arent their parents. keep that in mind. anyway, betty takes jughead to a car polly mentioned that full of EVIDENCE. they take picture of it and leave the car to go tell the sheriff because i guess suddenly no one has cellphones.  jughead and betty return with the sheriff later to find the car has been light up by an unknown person. almost immediately after, bughead tries to rescue polly at the institution only to find she’s already bailed. welp.

josie and valerie make up and all four pussycats perform. josie’s dad walks out on her performance? harsh. cool dad moves.

archie sings and the crowd loves it. who gives a shit.

a kid died, guys. come on.

#riverdale

[dentalrecordsmusic]

Album Review: The Dreadnoughts - “Into the North”

Words by Cae Rosch

This week, Stan Rogers, defining Canadian folk singer and popularizer of sea shanties, would have turned 70 years old. Also this week, an album by Canadian folk punks the Dreadnoughts consisting entirely of sea shanties miraculously rose to no. 14 on the Billboard World Chart.

When the Dreadnoughts submitted Into the North to the CBC, they heard via their label that Canada’s public broadcasting corporation had zero interest in playing it. Despite its deep roots in Canadian music culture, from its traditional rowing songs to its two-part tribute to Stan Rogers himself, it wasn’t welcome in today’s Canadian media.

In 2019’s pop and hip hop dominated market, the CBC’s dominion over Canadian radio stations has phased out folk music programming. They don’t care about a capella. They especially do not give a shit about “maritime” music. No one’s going to listen to it, the CBC says. Not even coming from a Canadian band, even though the CBC usually creams its pants over CanCon (that’s Canadian Content, for you southern friends). That stuff’s too old. It’s irrelevant. Apparently.

With no radio play, it should be pretty challenging for an album to shoot up the charts so fast. Maybe the Dreadnoughts channeled the ghost of Stan Rogers to make an unholy deal for folk music fame. Maybe it’s just that people already love the Dreadnoughts enough to trust them.

Or maybe the Dreadnoughts are tapping into something here — something people don’t realize they need or want anymore. Something real and physical, something Stan Rogers knew and the Dreadnoughts revive, an unnameable something that sea shanties give us in a way contemporary music never can.

Dental Records has already written about the first single off the album — “Joli Rouge,” a love song to the aggressively powerful ciders brewed by Fred Simard at Cidre Joli Rouge in Chicoutimi, Quebec. The Dreadnoughts love that cider, and Fred Simard loves the Dreadnoughts so much that he’s named one of those ciders after them. And so here’s a song for him. The rough, catchy melody and solid, pounding rhythm in “Joli Rouge”  are classic Dreadnoughts: gritty “cider punk” you could just as easily use as a work song on your sailing ship as you could mosh to it.

That dual-purpose sound is the soul of the Dreadnoughts. It’s also the soul of the sea shanty — rough vocals just as at home in a punk rock band or while heaving away on a working ship, an insistent rhythm that drives your whole body into motion. That’s why this works as an album of nothing but sea shanties, original and traditional, and also why it’s so damn compelling that not even a CBC dismissal can stop it.

Into the North starts off with stark, firm vocals shouted into silence. “Rosibella” is a call to jump into the rest of the album like a call to get your ass in gear and work. “Come, let’s join Rosibella / Come, let’s join Rosibella / Come, let’s join, come let’s join / The saucy Rosibella” is a cheerful intro, even in a single hard-edged voice, and it’s immediately joined by a group shout of “Heave away!” that throws you right into the “maritime” sound. As the call and response continues, joined by snappy drums and accordion and smattered with an intermittent, enthusiastic “hup!” from the gang vocal crew, you find yourself hauling forward into the beat. The shanty does its job.

The album continues with the steady 1-2 rhythm “Rosibella” sets, through rousing stomps and heavy marches, traditional and original, English and French. Every song maintains the pace. “Pique la Baleine,” a Francophone whaling song, is a rollicking highlight with a dancing rhythm and bright group vocals, but slow and steady classics like “Fire Marengo” and “Roll Northumbria” are just as compelling, driven forward by the heartbeat of the kick drum.

The whole album is a bodily experience. It animates your limbs to haul the ropes of a ship you’re probably not on, with a crew around you not physically present but echoing the presence of everyone else who has ever sung these songs.

Into the North’s recording process demonstrates that spatially, temporally disjointed union. The gang vocals in this album aren’t just a bunch of the Dreadnoughts’ friends shouting along in a single studio, as on your typical punk rock album. They’re a few singers drawn out of the Dreadnoughts’ online call for sea shanty submissions, recorded separately in studios across the world, from Canada to Poland. But because these songs are so rhythmically rooted in the pounding of the human heart, voices that far away still draw easily into one single crew.

Sea shanties developed as work songs because they’re embodied music — they match up with the rhythm that drives the human body in order to keep you steady and united with your team of co-laborers. The Dreadnoughts have been slamming through that kind of embodied music for their entire career. As “Dear Old Stan,” the first of two tracks in tribute to Stan Rogers, explains, that’s kind of the point of the band.

Slower than most of the record, but just as full of shanty heartbeat, “Dear Old Stan”  elaborates the Dreadnoughts’ origin story, and in doing so demonstrates the musical attitude that makes this album work so very well. Stan Rogers, for you non-Canadians, is basically the Woody Guthrie of the Great White North. Yesterday (that’s November 29, 2019) would have been his 70th birthday, and we feel his memory hard on Into the North. Rogers performed a great deal of songs that the Dreadnoughts now play on this album, and a few of their previous hits were popularized by Rogers as well. The most important of those songs — the catalyst for the Dreadnoughts’ creation — is the whaling classic “Old Maui.”

“Dear Old Stan” informs us that a band at an Irish pub in a yuppie Vancouver neighborhood had rewritten “Old Maui” — a Stan Rogers favorite whaling song — rewritten from the perspective of the whale instead of the whalers as a protest of the whaling industry. And that reorientation destroyed everything that mattered about the song. The Dreadnoughts were thus born with a mission of musical vengeance: fix that shitty version of “Old Maui.” Bring out what’s so deeply important in that old, “irrelevant” folk music. Make it human, root it in the body, not in an intellectual consideration of why whaling is bad. Channel that hardworking sea shanty rhythm straight into punk rock.

The following track, a cover of Stan Rogers’ defining classic “Northwest Passage,” reinforces this point. There’s an easy path to reject the song outright based on its description of the land in what is now Canada as “savage” and its nostalgic depiction of early exploration. But just like the whaling songs the Dreadnoughts refuse to invert, we hear “Northwest Passage” not in the isolation of its lyrics but in the way its slow beat and melancholy tune wind through our bodies, the way it physically connects us to the materiality of land, and the long journey of exploring, and, of course, Stan Rogers and every other person who has sung it.

Into the North isn’t charting because it’s marketable. It’s charting because its heart beats with an earnest love of an easily dismissed genre. Fucking right it’s “maritime” music, because maritime music is real and raw and viscerally human, undistorted by pop production or electronic flair.

This album is charting because the Dreadnoughts’ sea shanties draw everyone who sings them into a full-body, timeless rhythm. And people need music in their bodies. That’s where catharsis lives.

Find Into the North on the Dreadnoughts’ website, their Bandcamp, or your streaming service of choice.

The Dreadnoughts will play a release show for the album on December 14 at the Astoria in Vancouver.

Cae Rosch is a salty character who lives four blocks over from that fateful Irish pub. Follow her on Twitter or Instagram.

Follow DRM on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

Subscribe to the DRM YouTube channel.

#the dreadnoughts #cae rosch #album review #sea shanty #Sea shanties #rock #punk rock #maritime #maritime history #maritime music