#(and it does make me feel less guilty about giving the Pact Ring to him and not her)

[elysianstars]

...Nel what in god's name do you mean by that.

[lilibetts]

Please wait, LoveAlarm is syncing itself to your heart!

Falling In Love With Riverdale, Theme 1: Sugar

Part 1/3

At this very moment in the not-so-idyllic town of Riverdale, Betty Cooper is 16 years, 41 weeks, 1 day, 20 hours and 34 minutes old and, to see Kevin describe it, she has been in love with Archie Andrews for 1 year, 5 months, and 14 days.

From inside the relative security of the F Hallway girls’ bathroom, she takes a deep breath to mark the magnitude of the moment, and hits [Install] on her phone. It takes less than a minute for the blue line to complete a circle and once it does, she opens the app and fills in her personal details.

Please wait, the app cheerily asks her, bright pinks and blues swirling across the screen, LoveAlarm is syncing itself to your heart!

Well, Betty sighs to herself, there’s no going back now. 

LoveAlarm is the latest matchmaking app to launch and in the two weeks since, it seems like *everyone* at Riverdale High has downloaded it. It syncs itself to your heart and a bright red heart alarm would ping if there is someone within twenty feet who loves you.

Naturally, the romantic landscape of Riverdale High School has been completely leveled. 

Midge Klump and Moose Mason both downloaded the app, only for it to tell Midge her love was unrequited. Ginger Lopez had situated herself in a prime location outside the gym doors when basketball practice let out—nobody within twenty feet of her—in the hopes that when the team’s star power forward, Anthony Parrish, came out, their phones would mutually ping. 

Instead, it was Ben Button who walked down that stretch of the hallway; instead, it was Ben Button who made her phone ping.  Then Anthony came out and *his* phone pinged, but Ginger’s did not again. According to the school grapevine, Ginger had lost her shit and called Ben a ‘baby-faced freak’.

Truthfully, the whole concept behind the app horrifies Betty, but she has to know. Making sure that every possible setting for the app is set to her phone’s vibrate function, she shoulders her backpack and heads into the cafeteria.

The walls are decorated from corner to corner with red, white, and pink streamers in anticipation of the Valentine’s Day party that will be held on Friday. PizzaShak is giving them a great deal on heart-shaped pizzas.

Her friends are at their usual table in the corner and with every step Betty takes, she is closer to knowing. When Archie hears his phone chime once she is within the twenty feet circumference, will he put two-and-two together? Will her own phone buzz with the truth? All around her, the crowded cafeteria is full of hopefuls checking their phones.

The round table has three curved benches attached to it. Kevin and Veronica share one, and across from them, Jughead and Archie split the other two. Betty slides into the space on Jughead’s left, exchanging happy hellos with her friends. Wordlessly, she hands over one of the two sandwiches she’d packed for Jughead to take. As always, he makes a show of letting out an aggrieved sigh when he spots the lettuce and sliced tomato in there with the turkey, but dutifully takes his sandwich while sliding over the remaining brownie square from his vending machine packet. This is their unspoken pact: she makes sure the bottomless pit that is Jughead Jones is sated with something healthier, he makes sure she gets a non-Alice-approved treat.

The sandwich she made is gone in three bites.

<Good?> she signs, arching one eyebrow.

<You know it,> Jughead replies, still chewing the last mouthful of turkey sandwich.

Betty has been deaf since she was three years old, after a bout with meningitis, and just because she’s well-liked among her peers doesn’t mean many of them would go as far as to learn sign language for her. That Kevin, Archie, Jughead, and Veronica have is part and parcel of why they’re her best friends.

A booted foot taps insistently against hers under the table and Betty turns away from Jughead, still grinning, to focus on Kevin. 

/Did you watch The Bachelor last night?/ His hands move as rapidly as he speaks.

/No,/ Betty tells him. /Unlike you, I actually studied for the History test./

“Har har,” Kevin deadpans. They’re both distracted by Veronica clapping her hands. 

“OMG!” she says gleefully, slapping Kevin’s bicep. /Kelley is an ICON! I told you./

As much as Betty loves her friends’ ridiculously dramatic day-after recaps, she’s too distracted to really pay attention to whatever last night’s spectacle had been about. Across the table, Archie is checking his phone, thumbs tapping and sliding across the screen. A wide grin splits his face and he turns the screen out to show Jughead.

3 people in a twenty feet radius love you!

Betty flushes and looks away, embarrassed. Of course. As covertly as possible, she takes advantage of everyone’s inattention to check her own phone.

Zero.

Nobody within a twenty feet radius loves you.

As Cheryl Strayed wrote, “acceptance is a small, quiet room”. As the realization sinks in, Betty watches, as if from a greater distance, Archie glancing around at the nearby tables, determined to figure out who those three people could be. After a few murmured words from Jughead that she can’t decipher thanks to his head being turned away from her, Archie takes off to make the rounds. A process of elimination, most likely.

Betty isn’t sure what she feels. Irritation more than disappointment? Relief? The latter emotion surprises her, especially now that she knows Archie isn’t in love with her. Kevin, and then later Veronica when she’d arrived in Riverdale, have been after her to confess her feelings to Archie but Betty has kept demurring or putting it off. Her usual excuse being that she’s too scared to wreck her friendship with him. 

Sure, they’re right when they say she’s being a coward; but is her relief after the LoveAlarm revelation just relief that now she won’t have to actually bare her heart?

She turns off her phone.

                                   ******************************************

                                                    He knows he shouldn’t be, that this definitely qualifies as eavesdropping, but here Jughead is, glancing up and over to the table where Betty is sneakily carrying on a conversation with Veronica.

It’s 7th period Honors Bio and all they need to do is finish a worksheet before the bell rings, which is easy enough, but Mr. Beeker had also stipulated silence in the classroom, so it’s a clever loophole that Betty has found. Abby, her interpreter, is absorbed in her phone, leaving Jughead to covertly watch shifting hand shapes and fingerspelled letters.

<You’re not as s-t-e-a-l-t-h-y as you think you are,> Veronica signs smugly.

<??>

<Your phone. At lunch. You d-l LoveAlarm.> Smugness melts into concern. <Well?>

This is news to Jughead, and unwelcome news at that. He shouldn’t be surprised that Betty has downloaded that stupid app and really, he should’ve seen it coming. Dread fills him as he awaits her response.

Of course Jughead refuses to download LoveAlarm. Why would he give an app his heart data? They’d only sell it to soulless companies looking to target him with ads tailored to the object of his romantic yearning.

Betty.

The facts are these: Jughead Jones is 17 years, 3 days, 6 hours and 11 minutes old. He’s also been aware that he’s deeply, irrevocably in love with Betty Cooper for 1 year, 4 months, and 19 days. An eternity, basically.

 A rare beam of sunlight has broken through the February gray outside, casting a pale glow on her downturned face, the long eyelashes that brush her cheeks. It’s the flare of her nostrils and the tight press of her lips together that tell him she’s upset. 

There’s a sharp pang in his chest.

<He doesn’t.> The words, accompanied by a shake of Betty’s head that makes her ponytail bounce, are all he needs to understand. 

Jughead isn’t obtuse, he knows which ‘he’ they’re talking about, the only one ‘he’ it could be: Archie. Blame Kevin, he’s shit at subtlety. 

So, Betty had downloaded LoveAlarm and now she knows Archie isn’t in love with her. The latter isn’t news to him but he would’ve been fine if Betty had continued to go through life not knowing that particular fact. But it’s the sentence that comes next that breaks his heart.

<I have a zero. Nobody loves me.> What goes unspoken but, to Jughead, is writ large upon her face is: ‘I’m not lovable’.

He looks away from their conversation, angry that anyone would make her feel like this. Ashamed that he is a guilty party in this.

That night while lying on his bed, Jughead finds himself torn.

What he had seen earlier has given him food for thought. Which is just as well because he likes to take the time to think broadly and deeply, much in the same way he likes to eat. Next to him on the bed, his phone is open to the App Store, and LoveAlarm waits there patiently, ready for his decision.

Is Betty Cooper worth it? Unquestionably Yes.

Is he willing to risk discovery? Having his heart spilled right out there for her to see...even worse, for others to see? Vulnerable and already bruised, where it’d easily be crushed into messy smithereens?

Unable to answer that, his brain circles back around to the first question: is Betty Cooper worth it?

With a low, drawn-out groan, Jughead hits [Install] and gives corporations access to his heart.

[captainchrisfics]

At the Altar

About: Inspired by Rick Springfield’s Jessie’s Girl at the request of @fandomslut666 , Chris’s friend asks him to be the best man at his wedding, which is great...until he realizes he’d rather be the one meeting Ella at the end of the aisle.

Word Count: 5,850

A/N: I’m really sorry this is so long and somehow still feels underdeveloped imo. I had too many ideas and too little space in my google doc before this turned into an actual novel, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Chris sat overlooking Boston’s skyline from the restaurant’s otherwise empty table, despite the two unoccupied place settings. His eyes traveled to the vacant seats before drifting to the face of his watch, which ticked thirty minutes past the time he and his friend Jessie had agreed to meet at. They’d known each other since kindergarten, but Chris wouldn’t say they were particularly close growing up. Or at all really, until news broke about how Chris actually made it. After that, Jessie always seemed to be reaching out for a wingman or a nice meal. Normally that’d be the kind of thing to really get under Chris’s skin, but Jessie was good enough company he didn’t mind entertaining him when he wasn’t too busy otherwise. Or when Jessie was on time.

“Hey man,” a familiar voice greeted the actor, hand clasping on his back as he approached from behind. “Nice of you to show up,” Chris joked genialy, standing to greet his friend. When he turned, he saw that Jessie wasn’t alone. He was with a woman Chris couldn’t remember meeting before, though he doubted he’d forget her. He sure as hell hoped Jessie hadn’t picked up on how his smile faltered when he noticed his friend’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist, hand resting a little lower than he’d be comfortable with if he found out they were related. Still, Chris had his fingers crossed that was how they knew each other.

“Wanted to introduce you to my girl, Ella,” Jessie said, smiling down at the beautiful woman on his arm. She rolled her eyes teasingly, the smile playing on her perfect lips gave her away. Chris couldn’t help thinking she looked like a fairy with those wide, clear eyes and her impish expression. “fiancée,” she corrected lightheartedly. Chris hoped how his jaw hit the floor wasn’t too noticeable when he saw the diamond sparkling on her ring finger. Definitely wasn’t his sister. “Y-you’re engaged?” Chris said, looking at her with raised eyebrows. Part of him held onto the hope that she’d laugh and say it was some joke they came up with on the way over. Jessie seemed to think the question was directed at him as he said, “I know, crazy right?”

Jessie was too busy talking to notice how Chris straightened his suit jacket in an attempt to regain composure. Hiding the kind of disappointment that dropped right to the very bottom of your stomach, he cleared his throat before speaking again. “I’m really happy for you. Congratulations,” Chris said with a forced smile and the overly optimistic wish that his tone sounded earnest enough not to raise suspicion. Jessie grinned at Chris and slapped his back again in thanks before taking a seat across the table, leaving Chris to pull out the chair for his friend’s fiancée. “What a gentleman,” Ella remarked, though Chris caught the way she huffed with annoyance and shot Jessie a look from the corner of her eye. Something about it made him feel smug, which he immediately felt guilty for. As much as he felt like a moth to her flame, Chris had to remind himself she was taken. Not only taken, engaged. To his friend from childhood.

Still, Chris couldn’t help being absolutely enthralled with her. There was just something about the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed at what his jokes, how she leaned forward intently when he spoke, and the way she made eye contact with him even when Jessie was the one talking before fluttering her gaze away when he caught her.

“So how’d you two meet?” Chris asked gruffly in an attempt to get Jessie talking again, that way he’d have something to focus on rather than the heat he felt rising to his cheeks when she only looked at him with those doe eyes. He learned that Ella and Jessie didn’t know each other for too long, they’d had a short relationship and weren’t planning on a long engagement either.

Let the record show Chris did try to ignore the stupid way his heart fluttered when their legs grazed each other under the table, which he managed to do for most of dinner, however unsuccessfully. He hadn’t even realized how much time he’d spent poking around his salad in an attempt to do anything other than wonder if his mom would like her as much as he did, not that it mattered really. It was what Jessie’s mom thought of her that counted for something, Chris reminded himself. But he knew his mom would love her. Again, not that it mattered. Then the waiter interrupted this thought spiral when he put down the expensive bottle of wine Jessie ordered for dessert in front of Chris and popped the cork.

“Anyway,” Jessie said, his tone more serious than Chris could recall hearing in a while. He interrupted Ella with a complete disregard for the impassioned conversation her and Chris had been in the middle of, another thing Chris tucked away in his mental file of reasons why they clicked better. “I wanted to ask you something. Would you be my best man?” he asked, looking at Chris with a cheesy raised eyebrow. “Y-you want me to be your best man?” Chris said incredulously, wide eyes and slacked jaw to complete the look. Jessie nodded, sipping on his glass before saying, “You’ll do it, won’t you? Thought you’d throw the best bachelor party out of anyone I know.”

“I guess I don’t see why not,” Chris accepted with a small nod against his better judgment, not that surprised it was about money rather than an actual, genuine connection when it came to Jessie’s motive. “Glad to hear it,” Jessie grinned before downing the rest of his drink. “We’ve got to get going, but I’ll be sure to Venmo you or something,” Jessie said as he stood and shrugged on his jacket. “Why are we leaving?” Ella asked with a small pout, her eyes darting between Chris and her fiancé. “I’m having fun, I don’t want to go yet.” Jessie rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around her possessively. “We have that thing, remember?” he excused with a fake laugh Chris saw right through. A burning anger started to simmer in Chris’s stomach, but he wasn’t in a position to do anything about them ducking out early, or the money for their half of the check he knew he’d never receive. Instead, he stood to hug Ella, relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms if only for a fleeting moment. Chris had to tell himself he was imagining it, but they seemed to fit so well together, like puzzle pieces. Then, he shook Jessie’s hand who emitted a strained laugh as he said, “Man, killer grip. They’ve really got you working out for those Marvel movies, huh? Must not know your own strength, Evans.”

When they’d turned to leave, Chris fell back into his chair. With slumped shoulders, he poured another glass of wine to the very top. He watched them walk away, hating how Jessie’s arm wrapped around her waist like he was claiming her and feeling so dirty for it. Sitting back alone while she went home with Jessie made his chest feel like his heart was sitting in it the wrong way, which was inherently and uncontrollably shame-inducing. He found himself in the middle of a deep pool of quicksand, the kind of thing that pulls you in deeper the harder you fight, which was when it occurred to Chris he was so deeply, entirely, and utterly fucked for the first of many times.

That feeling didn’t fade with the months that followed, if anything it got so much worse. Jessie abused Chris being his best man, sending him on every remotely related wedding errand he didn’t want to attend. The complete disregard he had for Chris’s life annoyed him, but once he realized the silver lining he stopped complaining. Usually Chris wasn’t one to let anyone walk all over him like that, but it meant he got to spend some more time with Ella which he wasn’t willing to give up. Chris made a pact with himself that he had to keep it cordial, toeing the lines between amiable, affectionate, and austere. Nothing more, nothing less. Ella made that hard, though.

Like when they went to pick out floral arrangements, she talked about how much she adored sunflowers. She told him about how she planted them with her family when she was little, accompanied by this adorable light in her eyes and the biggest grin he’d ever seen. “Sorry,” Ella said meekly when she realized how long she’d been talking for. She looked through an arrangement of red roses and baby’s breath but there was this look in her eye like she was seeing past the flowers, thinking about something deeper. Chris shrugged and said something about how she didn’t have to apologize, insisting that he really enjoyed the conversation as must as she did when she shook her head.

“Jessie says it’s annoying when I get like that so I appreciate you listening,” she puffed out a sigh. Chris grabbed her hand to catch her attention and then dropped it when he thought better of it. Nothing more, he reminded himself. Still, he held her gaze with a sorry softness of his own. “Jessie’s an idiot sometimes. Don’t let him make you feel bad about yourself or the things you care about. Ever,” Chris said with all the intensity he could muster, hoping she’d believe him. Ella tucked her hair behind her ear, driving him absolutely insane without ever realizing, as she nodded feebly with lips turned up in a gentle smile.

Then there was the time they went cake tasting a few months later. Chris had been texting Ella as time passed. He was out of town filming one of those small budget rom-coms he loved doing near a patch of sunflowers so he sent her a picture, telling her how they made him think of her. Not even a minute later, Ella responded with something about how he’d brightened her day. This part of Chris he kept trying to suppress was fueled by that, the part of him with that selfish, unsatisfiable desire to be the guy who brightened every single one of her days. Since then, it’d evolved into the kind of intimate, daily conversation that sparked an intense and constant guilt in the pit of his stomach. And then she’d shoot him an emoji with those blushing cheeks and he’d forget about the ring on her finger for a second. But still, Chris wasn’t this guy. He was loyal and kind and not the kind of person to flirt with his friend’s girl when he was hopelessly and irrevocably attracted to her. Seriously, what kind of best man daydreams about running off with the bride? But when Jessie flaked on their cake tasting appointment and Ella decided to reach out and invite him on a whim rather than calling on some of her friends, how could he not go?

Chris was supposed to be on his way to a photo shoot. Usually, he wasn’t the type to ditch work, especially when others were relying on him. It occurred to him then that Chris had this irking feeling he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was capable of doing when it came to Ella, especially when she’d been more distant than he’d grown used to. It was his own doing since he stopped responding when the guilt got the better of him, but he missed her. So without thinking twice, he sped over to the bakery, absent of an ounce of a bad feeling about it. There was no room for doubt with all of the excitement.

Then he saw her sitting at the counter through the shop’s window. She seemed to glow in the golden light of the afternoon sun, looking like every bit of the deity Chris started to suspect she had to be. He knew it was a reach, but he had to rationalize the intense attraction he had for her. Otherwise, it would mean confronting the fact that he’d really become that guy. When the bell of the door he’d entered caught her attention, the pout on her lips grew into a smile as she jumped up to hug him, forgetting about the hours she’d spent staring at her empty messages and cursing his name.

Chris twirled with the momentum, setting her down and smiling so big his cheeks hurt. “Missed you,” he confessed. The words came out like an exhale, something he didn’t even think about before it just happened as if it was a part of his nature. Ella’s smile faltered only for a second, which was the exact moment Chris decided he’d add the ‘nothing less’ part to the pact. “Sorry for not responding. Life’s been… crazy lately,” he apologized, stretching to scratch the back of his neck. Ella pursed her lips before resolving that it was okay since he was here now, maybe not when she needed him the most, but it was pretty damn close. “Don’t disappear again and you can have some cake,” she proposed, only half-joking. His contact’s disappearance from her notifications hurt in a way she hadn’t anticipated, but he was here. That was more than she could say for her soon-to-be husband. To make matters worse, it didn’t help that the employees who kept bringing out fresh slices of whatever flavor they wanted to try mistook Chris as her betrothed. In all fairness, they were at a wedding cake tasting together. Every time they laughed it off, joking about how they might argue like an old married couple sometimes, but they were more friends than anything. And every time Chris felt a pain in his chest, a dull punch that turned into a steady ache as he wanted more and more for that to not be the case. He wanted to be in the photo Ella handed the baker to model the bride and groom after. He wanted to smile and say thank you when the cashier said they made a beautiful couple.

It occured to Chris that this may not have been the best idea when he spent more time watching her taste cakes than eating it himself. The way her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned in toward the cake like before her lips parted to take in the bite. “Oh my god, Chris,” she moaned in exactly the way he imagined, though Chris tried to keep his thoughts from going there. Tried being the operative word. Especially when it came to her all but groaning his name so sensually, Chris couldn’t help the heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach. His knees grew weak at just the thought of hearing that and so much more escape her lips in breathy gasps. “This chocolate one is so good,” Ella said, snatching back his attention from some more unsavory thoughts about his friend’s fiancée. “Try it,” she prompted, holding her replenished fork for him, completely oblivious to the distracting effect she had on his thoughts. But, being the book he was never able to put down, Ella re-captured his attention without trying to.

After much deliberation, Ella decided on the chocolate. Even after all of the sweets, the two decided they had enough room for lunch to stop at the diner next door. Truthfully, Chris felt sick from all the sugar. She could’ve asked him to accompany her to the gates of hell and he would’ve done it, no questions asked. He just wanted to spend more time with her, even if it meant more nausea.

“I think the thing I’m looking forward to most about the wedding is the cake. Is that bad?” Ella said with a dry laugh once they sat at their table. Chris looked at her with a cocked eyebrow and laughed at her joke, though it was a bit suspicious sounding. “Just a tad,” he responded with a tone that was clearly half-kidding. Ella shrugged, suddenly looking like a suspect under the harsh light of an interrogation room before changing the subject. Chris didn’t push further to alleviate her discomfort, but there was something about the desperate doubt in her eye that kept him up that night.

Then there was the time they went dress shopping, just a month or so before the big day. They’d been inseparable whenever Chris was home, always at each other’s houses laughing over some ice cream and crying during Disney movies. She invited Chris since they’d grown so close lately, or at least that’s why Ella thought she wanted his opinion on her wedding dress so badly. When Chris showed up, he was shocked to see that she was alone again. Sure, Ella was from out of town so not many of her family and friends would be able to make it, but he thought she mentioned at least inviting her best friend?

“Oh, yeah. We… got into a pretty big fight last night,” Ella said casually when he asked, burying herself in the heap of wedding dresses on the wrack. She tried to busy herself by going through the designs, but Chris still caught the way her sigh sounded sad and heavy. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in comfort, as light as a feather, and offered an ear as he said, “Want to talk about it?” Ella looked at him with big, watery eyes that wanted a shoulder to cry on, but were still wary of whether or not he would be a safe place to land. She bit her lip in an attempt to keep her mouth shut, but it burst like a dam once Chris offered a kind smile and a soft, “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I didn’t want to say anything to you because I know you’re friends, but she just hates Jessie so much. Last night, Jessie mentioned he didn’t want me to pick anything too form-fitting because it’d make me look fat and she blew up on him. She said it was the last straw, that she couldn’t sit back while he treated me like that anymore. She said she wouldn’t come today if I went through with it, in protest or something, and I didn’t think she was serious but…” Ella trailed off, unable to stop the tears from causing her voice to crack like her heart.

Chris wrapped her up in a hug without hesitation, pressing her head into his strong chest. He rested his chin on top of her head and rubbed small circles on her back, hating the way she clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded and how her body wracked with sobs she finally allowed herself to release after months of bottling everything up. All of the frustrations from planning a wedding essentially on her own, all of her confusion and regrets, all of the moments that she wished she had another option than walking down the aisle escaped her, left behind as tear-stains on Chris’s shirt.

When her breathing steadied, Chris held her by her shoulders at arm's length. “Elle, I’m your friend too. And, frankly, Jessie is more of a dick than I ever thought imaginable. Your friend was right to say you deserve so much better. Hell, you deserve the whole entire world,” Chris said, trying to mask his love and speak as a friend. He didn’t want to pull her from his friend’s arms into his own or give her the impression that he was saying she should leave Jessie for him. But he cared for her too much to watch Ella as she continued to set herself on fire to keep Jessie warm.

“I’m not getting any younger though, Chris,” she said, eyes on the floor while she wiped the tears that still dripped down her cheeks. “Yeah, Jessie could be better. But he could be a  hell of a lot worse too. You try being a single woman in this world without settling for the sake of stability,” Ella chuckled dryly. “Plus, we’re already so deep into this. Everyone’s RSVP'd, we paid for the DJ already, booked the church and everything. I mean, I’m trying on wedding dresses for fuck’s sake.”

Chris sighed, wringing his hands through his hair before finally coming to a conclusion. Chris’s thumb lifted Ella’s face by her chin so her eyes met his, seeing the ferocity of feelings she couldn’t completely identify. “I guess it’s your decision, but if there’s anything even resembling a doubt in your mind and you want a way out-” Chris stopped when he noticed her eyes drifting away from his again. “Look at me, Ella. I don’t care if you’re halfway down the aisle, if you want a way out, say the word and I’ll give you one,” he promised. Ella only nodded, not really sure where to go from there. The gravity of that look in his eye, the severity of his tone, the intensity of his energy. None of it fully registered with her in that moment, it was the kind of determined pledge that needed time to sink in. So she turned back to the dresses and began shuffling through them again, at least trying to move on and forget the rock and a hard place she was stuck between if only for a moment. Chris took the hint helped her resume a sense of normalcy as he pulled a dress off the rack and handed it to her, saying, “I, for one, think you’d look great in a mermaid cut.”

Later, Chris was thinking about that conversation. He sat at the bar in the club he’d rented out for Jessie’s bachelor party, watching everyone else party while he swirled his glass of whiskey solemnly, thinking about how unhappy Ella looked then. How much that broke his heart. How he knew he could treat her better. How mad he was that Jessie didn’t. How pissed he’d be tomorrow, standing right behind the son of a bitch lucky enough to marry her. Chris’s eyes found Jessie among the hoard of people he invited. He was completely clueless as to how grateful he should be, stupidly sloshing a bottle of vodka around while his friends encouraged him to chug it. Jessie tried, but couldn’t stomach it. Everyone cheered anyway when he threw it down on the closest table, before scooping up the closest girl and planting his lips on hers. Calling it a kiss would be a boldly loose use of the term, it looked more like he was trying to eat her if Chris was honest. He sat there powerlessly watching it happen in slow motion, while the love of his life was cheated on by the man she was going to meet at the end of the aisle tomorrow morning.

Across the club and with his lips still attached to some other woman, Jessie made eye contact with Chris, who looked like his grip on the shot glass was about to shatter it. Chris couldn’t tell what kind of half-assed apology Jessie was trying to mouth to him through all the anger he felt surge in his chest. Then, Jessie shrugged casually, as if this betrayal wasn’t shrapnel he was launching into Ella’s life in the wake of his explosion, and led the girl into a nearby bathroom by her hand. Chris knew he had to get out of there before he ended up stuck behind bars. Despite that desire, he thought of Ella and how hurt she’d be, how badly she’d need a shoulder to cry on. It was just about the only rational thought Chris had through the clouded surge of hostility until he reached his hotel room. But, fuck, Chris wanted nothing more than to deck him then and there. Instead, he paced a hole into the carpet, trying to come up with ways he’d break the news and failing. By morning, Chris still didn’t have an idea of what to do or a wink sleep. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he had been all night. The way he saw it, there were two options.

He could tell Ella and, oh my god, did he want to. But this entire time he’d known her he hasn’t had the luxury of getting what he wanted. If he told her, he’d be responsible for ruining her wedding day. But even that happiness was a sham. If he told her, she’d finally break up with Jessie. But that could backfire and Chris didn’t want her to think he was lying or only telling her so she’d be his instead. If he told her, she’d hate Jessie. But she might hate him, too. If he told her, Chris would be doing right by Ella and he’d get the chance to see where things could go for the two of them. But, he worried he was acting out of his own selfish want to be with her and he’d hate her for ruining her shot of a happy marriage in the process.

Chris stayed as far away from Jessie as he could, fearing the damage his punch might cause when it connected with the groom’s nose. A black eye wouldn’t go well with his tux, plus it would raise some questions. Add ‘sending Jessie to the hospital’ to the list of things Chris found himself daydreaming about but couldn’t act on for the sake of human decency. He tried to avoid Ella at all costs, too. Chris knew he couldn’t look her in the eye and lie, but how do you tell someone standing before you in their wedding dress that their soon-to-be husband cheated on them? How do you not? Instead, he busied himself prepping for the wedding. He made sure every petal was in place, every guest was in their seat, every wrinkle in the aisle’s carpet was flattened. Everything else had to be perfect. Ella had to have the perfect day, at least before it wasn’t.

He was rushing to find the ring bearer to make sure the little boy had the rings before walking down the aisle and running out of time to decide when he saw her. Ella was standing behind the church’s huge doors, silhouetted by the rainbow glow of stained glass windows. Her white veil falling delicately around her shoulders and a bouquet of roses and sunflowers in her hands, looking every bit the beautiful bride Chris dreamed she’d be. She turned her head delicately toward him, breaking out into a grin when she saw Chris standing there breathlessly. Like Icarus to the sun, he couldn’t escape her gravitational pull.

He walked toward her, heart pounding so loudly he worried its vibration would collapse the old building. He was pretty sure she’d have this effect on his heart regardless of the secret weighing heavy on his mind. Wiping his sweaty palms on the pants of his tux, Chris still smiled once he was face to face with Ella. He opened his mouth to compliment her, but the words that clumsily tumbled out instead were, “Jessie cheated on you.” So much for a plan.

“W-what?” she spluttered, dropping her flowers to the floor. “I’m really sorry Elle, you’ve got to believe me. At the bachelor party last night he made out with some girl I’ve never seen and then they snuck off together. Fuck, I’m really sorry,” Chris word-vomited, every secret being spilled from his lips. Really it was foolish of him to think he could even keep anything from her, but at least they were in a church for all the confessing he was doing.

Ella’s jaw tightened as she tried to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from falling. “And you didn’t do anything?” she said with a measured tone, breathing ragged. “You couldn’t have even told me before I put the dress on?” Chris’s eyes grew wide, his worst fear of her being angry with him seemingly confirmed.

He started speaking with his hands and a heavy Boston accent as he pleaded her to believe him. “Oh, trust me, I wanted to beat the living shit out of him. I almost did too, until I realized how much you could hate me for it. I mean, he’s still your fiancé, you know? Hell, I didn’t even know if I should tell you,” Chris continued without even stopping for a breath. She could ask for his credit card and social security numbers, which one of his nieces and nephews was really his favorite, what team he’d support over the Patriots and she’d get an answer. Chris was just short of bearing his whole soul to her.

“So you were just going to keep his dirty little secret? You weren’t going to tell me?” she said with crossed arms, her voice cracking like that was the thing that hurt most of all. Chris shook his head furiously. “No, no, no, you’ve gotta listen to me. I just didn’t know if-” Ella raised a finger, shutting him up instantly. If only she would’ve done that about ten seconds ago before Chris started digging his grave with an excavator. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting some kind of betrayal from him, but never from you,” Ella sighed, looking to the floor so she could avoid the pained expression of those blue eyes. “I’ll see you at the altar,” she concluded, hoping Chris would leave before she started crying. He took a small step back and then another before accepting defeat, turning, and leaving.

Before he knew it, Chris was standing behind Jessie at the altar, jaw tight and fists clenched in the pockets of his tux, when the wooden doors opened to reveal Ella. Seeing her still winded him like a punch to the stomach, but knowing there was so much hurt behind her strong facade made his heart ache. Regardless, Chris knew he had to stand there stoically out of the fear that he’d ruin any more of her wedding day with another outburst. The priest read something from the Bible about commitment to your partner, which Chris was too busy thinking about how painfully ironic it was to pay attention, and then they said their vows. The way Ella’s breath rattled when she said the “to love and to cherish” piece caught his attention, like she was trying so hard to hold herself together even her lungs were shaking.

What felt like a century later, the priest looked throughout the small crowd before finally saying, “If anyone objects to these two being wed, please speak now or forever hold your peace.” Chris stared intently at Ella with the kind of eye contact that made you forget you could speak without words. She looked at him too, filled with uncertainty and desperation, as she mouthed one word: please. A word so small, a word billions of people used every day, a word he wouldn’t hear again without thinking of this moment.

“I do,” Chris spit out so fast he repeated it again, just to make sure everyone heard. “I know this isn’t a legal reason and Jessie I hate to call you out like this in front of…” Chris shot the guy he wasn’t too torn up over never speaking to again an apologetic look, gesturing to his family members lining the pews. “But you’re terrible to her.”

Then, he turned to Ella and the rest of the world fell away. “I didn’t say something sooner because I didn’t want you thinking I was just saying it because I love you, but you shouldn’t settle. You’re too good for that,” Chris told her, the sound of his heart beating in his ears drowning out the grandmother gasps and aunts chittering from the crowd. As far as he was concerned, it was just the two of them, and she didn’t even have to ask for him to show her his soul now. “You deserve someone to dance in the kitchen to old 50’s records with when you’ve had a bad day,” he said, recalling the time they drank too much time and did and she cried because Jessie wouldn’t. “You deserve someone who makes you breakfast in the morning,” he continued, remembering the time he made her pancakes after they fell asleep watching movies and the apologetic shock she had surprised him even more than she was over the simple kindness. “You deserve someone who loves you and treats you like it. You deserve the world, the sun, and all the stars and he isn’t willing to even give himself to you. I’m letting you know, this is your last opportunity out if you want one,” Chris finished without realizing how his volume grew with his passion, suddenly feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes boring into him.

Jessie didn’t say anything, silenced by his shell shock, and neither did Ella. She simply grinned with her mouth, her eyes, her entire being and extended her hand to Chris who took it in his, lacing their fingers together. Shedding the guilt he’d been carrying for months like a coat when you come home from the cold, Chris and Ella made their way down the aisle together. Without looking back, they hopped in Chris’s car and drove away, fueled by the kind of exhilaration that could only come from leaving someone at the altar.

They drove and drove until they stopped for ice cream. By then it was dark and they decided to keep driving until they left the city, went past the suburbs, and found themselves in a field so in the middle of nowhere it was like you could see more stars than all the city lights there were in Boston. Ella threw her heels in the back and kicked her feet up on the dash, sucking her spoon clean before saying the first thing in hours. “Did you really mean what you said?” she asked as if what he said hadn’t been said in front of every member of her family and all of her friends before she ditched her wedding. “Of course. All of it,” Chris reassured her, though he wasn’t sure of exactly what part Ella was questioning. “Even the part about loving me?” Her words hung in the air between them, but not in a suffocating kind of way. Chris turned to look at her, but she was still staring at the moon through his sunroof. “Especially that part.” She nodded contemplatively before turning to him with the spoon still in her mouth, held between her smile. “That’s really good,” she paused to kiss him. It was a quick, stolen kiss, but still everything he’d been fantasizing about for months and then some. The kind of kiss that left his head spinning so fast Chris was surprised he caught what she said next. “Because I think I just might love you too.”

[tessatechaitea]

Darkstars #8

Worst homecoming theme ever.

This is the last issue of Darkstars I own. I'm a little bit sad that I own this one because this cover is poo on fire. I suspect that Past Me, much like current me, never looked at the covers of the comics as he bought them. He just saw the title and grabbed the magazine, adding it to the pile to take to the register. Usually when the cashier is ringing up my comics is the first time I'll really look at the covers and I'm not the type of person to grab the cashier's hand as they pick up a comic book to ring it up and yell, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Not so fast! This comic book looks like runny diarrhea! I'm putting it back." No, I'm more the kind of person who notices how awful the comic book looks and simply lets out a nearly inaudible, haunting moan from the deepest part of that part of me my old friend Soy Rakelson would probably call a soul. I just call it the part of my brain that's going to get the skewer first when I finally decide none of this Goddamned pain is worth it anymore. Look at this fucking terrible cover. This 90s art is the kind of art that was (and often still is) hailed as dynamic by critics and fans who never seem to know the difference between "dynamic" and "posed." This doesn't look like a shot of these idiots having just finished a battle with a mechanical bull. It just looks like they stood in line with their prom photo tickets until they were waved over and told to look at the camera and smile before being hustled off the stage for the next couple's chance at a shitty memory. It's been a few days since I wrote a comic book review because I've been busy with my other project. I set up an Artificial Intelligence program to come up with new names for Xanth novels. These are some of my favorites: Centaurs Can't Masturbate The Boner Tree Titillating Minors Makes Money The Word Bosom Fifty Thousand Times in a Row No Matter How Many Naked Women are Described, Never Mention Their Genitals Whoops! That Scene Was Too Sexy In This One, A Dragon Fucks a Duck The Human Nickelpede Seriously Though. They Can't Fucking Masturbate! Seventy Unfunny Puns and Sixteen More That Don't Make Any Sense This Book is the Merriam-Webster Definition of Chauvinism Convicting Somebody of Rape is Embarrassing for Both Parties So Maybe Just Forget About It? Whoops! I Gave a Ten Year Old Female Centaur Huge Boobs. Can We Fix This in Post? If You've Read Piers Anthony's Other Books and Enjoyed Them, Maybe You'll Like This Book That He Put Way Less Effort Into Magic Doesn't Recognize Same-Sex Relationships But a Human Can Fuck a Goat and Produce a Mutant Offspring

Oh no! Are they planning on destabilizing a region so they can send in the military and take control of its oil?

Eight issues in and I haven't discussed the Darkstars uniform. Ignore the one on the cover; the artist completely fucked that one up. Just check out the one on the panel scanned above. What's with the piano keys theme? Will we eventually learn that they're powers are tied to music in the same way the Green Lantern power is tied to emotion? Did Grant Morrison ever use the Darkstars in his Multiversity lore as the movers and shakers of the harmony of the spheres which allowed for the different universes vibrating on different musical frequencies? But most importantly: can you play Chopsticks on a Darkstars' chest? Another great (?) aspect of the Darkstars uniform is the huge arrow pointing at the crotch. Whenever I wear super tight material that hugs my junk and exposes my intimacy, I love to call attention to it. "Hey hey hey! Ladies and Gents! Have you ever wondered exactly what my cock and balls look like? Check it out! Also this isn't vulgar because you're looking at cloth and not my skin even if the cloth hugs every wrinkle and vein. So please stop trying to have me arrested." It turns out "The American Way" isn't destabilization of countries who have resources that Americans want but don't want to pay for; "The American Way" is advertising jobs for needed positions. Man, that's so boring. And yet, it's the most interesting part of this comic book series so far!

In 1993, what does "some familiarity with computers" mean? That you've used Koala Pad and wasted tons of meat by killing bears on The Oregon Trail?

I know, I know! By 1993, people no longer even remembered Koala Pad and The Oregon Trail. It's just I don't really remember what was big in 1993. AOL Chat and Myst, maybe? You might also be wondering why Carla is dressed like a lunatic. Turns out, she's taking the Darkstars to a Country Western Bar. Yee haw! I'm pretty sure the first bar I ever went to was a Country Western Bar, The Saddle Rack, in San Jose, California. It was my 21st birthday and we were there because my friend Bob and I had made a pact when we were ten that when we turned 21, we were going to ride a mechanical bull. Bob turned twenty-one 23 days before me and he also remembered that stupid pact for eleven years. I also opened some presents that night and the woman I was dating gave me a Lobo t-shirt.

Geez, we get it, Darkstar. Your entire race was murdered. Don't make us feel guilty about having fun just because your people "used to have fun too."

What a dumb question, Carla! Obviously he knows what music is. He's got a fucking piano painted on his chest. While Darkstar hits the bar, Homeless Mo hires an office manager and K'lassh destroy's Darkstar's ship in orbit. Also, I should probably stop calling Mo Douglas "Homeless Mo." He lives at the office now!

Ugh! What's with all this political correctness and virtue signalling?! Why can't this old comic book be more like, um, older comic books and just stick to bank robberies and punching bad guys? I mean super villain bad guys bent on taking over the world and not white supremacist bad guys intent on taking over America! I mean, well, you know what I mean! Just have the good guy punch the obviously bad guy who doesn't need to espouse terrible social beliefs that I might also espouse! We know he's bad! Just make him generally bad or you're going to alienate your readership! I know racism is bad! But shoving it down my throat like this just makes me think, "Maybe it's not so bad?"

That previous caption was satirical and not actually my personal feelings. See, the thing about writing is that you can write whatever you can imagine and it doesn't make the thing you've written some secret insight into the truth of the writer. It's just shit that was typed in half a second without any thought at all behind it. Except, I mean, there was a lot of thought behind it. And a lot of that thought was less about Comics Gaters types currently spouting a lot of that kind of garbage and more about comic book fans writing letters to old comics that were saying the same kinds of things twenty and thirty years before it got a stupid "Let's append -gate to another word!" name. Also, it did not take half a second. Mostly because my brain is broken and it took me forever to pull the word "alienate" out of it even though it was the word I wanted to use and I knew the definition and could almost hear the word in my head but my brain was all, "Fuck you. Why should I give you this word you're seeking? You know how many hits of LSD you rammed through me, you careless asshole? Get fucked!" Darkstar takes an interest in the mechanical bull and is all, "Aw, that doesn't look so tough! Not like this space mechanical bull from this place in space I know!" Some drunk and tough cowjerk hears Darkstar's comments and simply assumes, like I assume he always assumes, that Darkstar is emasculating him with his words.

Beau is the Lobo of the Country Western Bar.

Darkstar decides the best way to calm the situation is to ride the mechanical bull. Beau watches him and yells, "He's the best I've ever seen!" It begins to look like Darkstar's plan is going to work until some other rube tells Beau, "That guy ain't human!" Beau goes full redneck and is all, "Yeah! He ain't! That means I have a duty to try and get him killed!" He then throws the switch on the mechanical bull to "Do Not Attempt This! Dangerous! Why Did We Even Add This Setting?!" Carla cold cocks Beau to help save Darkstar even though he doesn't need help. Wasn't she listening when he told his story about the space mechanical bull in space and how it was way harder than the Earth version? Darkstar breaks the mechanical bull with his crotch and will now have to pay for the damages. It's a good thing he's saved all that gold by firing Flint last issue. I don't know if it ever happened because this was the last issue of Darkstars I ever read but I hope Beau came back as a villain and called himself Low Beau.

Dammit. Now I want cake.

Carla writes a check to pay for the damages to the bar just as K'lassh arrives. Carla decides to keep her checkbook out. Darkstars #8 Rating: B+. I don't know if this issue was better than the rest because I knew it was the last issue I was going to read or because it objectively was better. At least I didn't have to suffer through Travis Charest's 90s art. This issue was done by guest penciller Patrick Zircher! Basically that meant it looked like 80s comics which I never mean to defend when I say 90s comics art was terrible. There was a lot of 80s comic art that was fucking awful as well! But it was standard awful! 90s art was unbearable because it was objectively terrible in so many ways (anatomy, asymmetry, overuse of specific tropes) but people proclaimed it the greatest art they had ever seen. I wouldn't have minded so much if everybody was all, "Well, this isn't great but it's different. Let's see what happens with it for awhile!" Anyway, in my world, Darkstar was murdered by K'lassh and there was never another issue.