#i looked up the first time i used the betty cooper outfit watch tag on my main and it was 26 oct 2018

[bettycooperoutfitwatch]

I enjoy your outfit analysis IMMENSELY. I was wondering if you can be persuaded to do a watch for each of the Riverladies? I'm particularly curious as to what you'd say about Cheryl's!

Thank you, that is a true pleasure to hear!

And that’s an interesting question.

I started this Outfit Watch because I felt the need to take all my opinions/interpretations on Betty’s wardrobe up and out of the tags on my main blog, as I was starting to get very verbose (lol, this answer is indicative of how much this is an understatement). I also felt my opinions on some of Riverdale’s costume choices didn’t always line up with many of the casual fandom takes I was seeing (notably on Betty’s many sweaters. Stand by for controversial opinions.) 

I have deep love and affection for Mad Style, which I find informs a lot of my critical interpretation of clothing, not merely in film and television, but in everyday life. I like trying to figure out why I’m having a reaction to a piece of media or art (or as in this instance, clothing), and then figure out what that means. Sometimes it’s negative, sometimes it’s positive, more often it’s something in a gray area, or not even in a value-space. So when a rash of people express dislike of a thing that catches my eye, I want to explore that. 

Additionally, I think we all know my love for Betty Cooper. She’s absolutely the character I’ve spent the most brain space on. Knowing the effort involved in this project for a single character, I am a little overwhelmed by the possibility of going further with more individual characters, or even the show as a whole (a la Mad Style.) The Outfit Watch is my side-side project, and I don’t want to overextend and/or neglect my og Riverdale side-project (@riverdalearthistory, of which I am extremely fond.) 

The costume decisions for Cheryl and Veronica and Toni and Josie (and Val and Melody and Alice and Polly and Gladys and Jellybean and Sierra and Hermione and ever and anon and indeed all the dudes too) are absolutely as worthy of interpretation as those made for Betty, and when I’m going through an episode I frequently get distracted by this fact. Costumes often play off each other (I touch on this briefly, for example, in 108 with Jug’s sweater.) Sometimes I have to make the choice to pare myself back. 

So, that said, once I catch up with season 4? Should I start to get antsy and need a distraction from Job Search Autumn ‘19? It’s totally possible I might feel inspired to do some character roundups. I’d never rule it out. 

[capnthor-blog1]

alive

sweet pea x cooper!reader

feat. a generic & cliché soulmate!au + the bad writing & grammar mistakes u didn’t know u needed in ur life

part 1

When you were younger Polly used to tell you how lucky you were to have something distinctive marking your soulmate for you, pointing to the twenty odd students in her year level who bore a generic hey on their wrists. At least, as she’d pointed out a million times, when you meet your soulmate you won’t miss them like most people.

You, however, remained less than thrilled with the words of your soulmate branded on your wrist. You supposed it was a matter of pride. Midge Klump had ‘you’re really pretty’ written on her wrist. Betty had a childish offer to share crayons scrawled across hers. And you, meanwhile, were left with words condemning you to doing something utterly stupid when you met your soulmate.

It was embarrassing, and a deep insecurity over it had welled inside you since the words first appeared on your wrist – an anxiety unintentionally fostered by your parents who sought to hide your mark wherever possible. (Although, you supposed having ‘hey, what the hell are you doing’ marked on your skin wasn’t particularly helpful in preserving the Wholesome Perfect Cooper Family image your mother almost aggressively pursued).

For your thirteenth birthday you were given your grandmother’s old watch. It was a beautiful family heirloom that by all rights should have gone to Polly (she was, after all, the oldest and closest with your grandmother before her passing), and yet, with it’s gold band just wide enough to cover all of the words inscribed across your skin, it was gifted to you. Then of course there was the stream of long sleeved jumpers and coats always readily recommended whenever you had to leave for somewhere nice or important. Your mother had once spent two hours begging you to wear a long woollen cardigan in the middle of a scorching summer after the clasp to your watch had broken, for a family photo she’d planned on hanging in the house.

However as time went on you found yourself wasting fewer nights sleepless, pondering over the words on your wrist – and truth be told you had spent an inordinate number of nights sneaking into Betty��s room long after the both of you were meant to be asleep to gossip and free your wild fantasies about what they meant and how you’d meet/had met your soulmates (Betty was convinced hers was Archie Andrews, and both of you agreed that the ‘hey’ at the beginning of yours was “definitely significant” and the connotations it held over simple ‘what the hell are you doing?’).

You imagined that this change had less to do with a new spurt of self-confidence and rationality so much as it did the sudden death of Jason Blossom, your sister’s pregnancy by him and your parents attempts to hide her away at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. A family disaster which occupied your thoughts until your insecurities and imaginings of dramatic and traumatic humiliation before meeting your soulmate were pushed to the back of your mind, until you thought of your soulmark very little at all.

And then Mr Andrews was shot by a psychopath calling himself the Black Hood and whilst the rest of the town occupied themselves with uncovering the murderer’s identity, you’d taken it upon yourself to help one Archie Andrews through his wannabe-vigilante phase occurring six years too late for him to fit into his old Batman costume.                                                                                

Unfortunately for your sleep schedule, Operation Keep Archie From Doing Something (Else) Stupid came at the cost of late night runs into the Southside in the freezing cold with a stubborn redhead. Archie hadn’t said a word to you as you rushed out of your house clambered into his dad’s truck, almost ripping the door off in in your haste.

“Sup Andrews?” You offered casually (well, as casually as one could while red faced and still panting from the speed at which you’d sprinted across the street when, by pure chance as you were going to bed, you saw him sneaking out). “Going for a late night drive?”

Archie, to his credit, didn’t appear too surprised or put out by your sudden appearance. You supposed years of friendship and past experience had the most to do with the tired resignation on his face at you buckling yourself into the passenger seat, although you were somewhat thrown by his lack of argument. You and Arch hadn’t been on the best of terms in the past few days, what with your outspoken distaste for his new boyband, the Red Circle, causing some tension between the two of you.

“Go home, Y/N,” he grumbled half-heartedly, slumping forward to slam his head against the top of the steering wheel. Drama queen. You could see his hand already reaching to put the key in the ignition.

You responded by loudly clicking your seatbelt into place and beaming up at him.

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t be out now,” Archie said, proceeding to repudiate his own point as he started the car, leaving the headlights on low as he slowly and quietly drove out onto the street.

“And leave you all to yourself? Archie, please, your dad doesn’t keep any good music in the car, you’d die of boredom without me.”

“So, Bruce Wayne, what are we doing on the Southside?” you eventually broke the silence that had fallen after the first few minutes of the drive and your awkward attempts at conversation, as Archie began driving down a small, dimly lit street. “Because I don’t mean to criticise you for being directionally challenged, but we missed the turn off for Jug’s house like, ten minutes ago.”

Pulling up on the side of the road, Archie let the truck crawl a bit further before parking it in the least lit area of the street. “We’re not here for Jug – can you pass me my bag? – we’re sending the Black Hood a message.” Archie’s words punctuated sharply at the end as he pulled a spray can from the light backpack you handed him from where you’d hastily pushed it at your feet when you invited yourself on this road trip.

You nodded, mulling his words over. Ostensibly there were no weapons which meant that Archie’s plans for the night merely involved light vandalism rather than a full-blown attempt to hunt down his father’s attacker. Not that you approved of the plan, but you had to admit you were relieved and the sick feeling that had been turning in your stomach during the drive had calmed a bit.

Archie jumped out of the truck throwing his bag over his shoulder. Before closing the door, he seemed to hesitate and leaned in once more. “You should stay in the truck?” You were sure he intended his words to sound more assertive than they came out, but your withering glare you sent him as he started speaking was one which had long been perfected to force even Archie Andrews at his most stubborn to back down in an argument.

Almost as soon as you swung the door open you regretted your decision. Your chance spotting of Archie’s attempts to sneak out of the house on your way to bed had left you little time to change into more appropriate attire. The result was a bitter reminder that it was still winter and without the comfort of the heater in the truck, your oh so stylish outfit consisting of pyjama shorts, a ratty t-shirt you’d probably stolen from Polly or Betty years ago and your pink fuzzy rabbit slippers (which were far too treasured to be ruined in the gross street Archie was leading you down, but you liked the prospect of walking out barefoot even less) immediately pushed you into a feeling of discomfort and mild vulnerability.

Hurriedly composing yourself, you rushed to match Archie’s determined stride, though you were grimly aware that despite your best efforts you couldn’t have possibly looked to match the firm resolve set into the redhead’s face. On the contrary, it felt as though which each step you took, the brief respite of assurance in the turnout of tonight’s adventure began to feel more and more like a silly and naïve illusion. Almost every street Archie led you down was marked with the snake symbol proclaiming it to be Southside Serpent territory, and with every second Archie spent tagging the walls with a red circle, you could hear your mother’s voice ranting to your family over dinner about how dangerous and violent they were (these were usually followed with a subtle and snide dig at Jughead and FP which you and Betty faithfully rebuked. Unfortunately those rational arguments countering your mother’s claims were not what was running through your head at the moment).

“Archie,” you eventually started, “I don’t think this is such a good idea. I mean –” you broke off to jog after the boy in question as he ducked out from under the stairs where he’d left his latest masterpiece and continued his fast pace to the next street. “You don’t know the Black Hood is a Serpent, or if he’s even from the Southside. And someone’s going to have to clean all this up tomorrow – probably not the Black Hood, just some poor innocent bystander. Like this guy for instance!” Here, you paused to dramatically throw your hands in the air, beholding the doors on which Archie had continued his streak as Riverdale’s Banksy, although you were well aware that by this point Archie had completely tuned out your increasingly frantic hissing. “This dude’s probably just going about his life when he gets up tomorrow and BAM! His lovely clean” not really but you allowed yourself this stretch “doors have got this on them, probably ruining his morn–”

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”

To your horror the voice cutting you off wasn’t Archie’s, and your head snapped around so quickly to its source you were surprised there wasn’t an audible crack. Or maybe there was one and you just couldn’t hear it over your heartbeat pounding in your ears, for standing at the corner of the street (and striding increasingly quickly towards you) were three Serpents. And, oh boy, did they look pissed.

And yet, Archie, brilliant, safety-conscious boy that he was, hadn’t even stopped his graffitiing. Instead he bit out a sharp rebuke and you swore you blacked out for a minute because the next thing you knew the tallest Serpent was in Archie’s face and holding a switchblade.

You opened your mouth. To say what? You hadn’t quite figured out yet. Getting out of tricky situations had never been your forte. Polly was the sweet talker in your family. Betty, too, was smart enough to have a series of arguments lined up almost instantly to win an argument in her favour. What would they do if they were here?

Nothing, probably, because they would have been smart enough to stop Archie from leaving the house instead of just going along with his plans.

Unfortunately at the same time you formulated a coherent and conciliatory response to defuse the situation, Archie pulled a gun out of his bag, so instead what came out was a squawky and undignified “Archie what the hell!”

“Who made a mistake?” Archie was saying, and the answer was you, apparently, by coming with him tonight.

It was pure luck that the threat was enough to force the Serpents away, never mind that Archie was holding the gun sideways like something out of a B-grade cop movie. But it was an opportunity you leapt at, immediately grabbing at the sleeve of Archie’s jacket and dragging him back in the direction you’d come. You were sure you were going to vomit, your heart was thumping almost painfully in your chest and you when you turned to see whether you were being followed and saw the tall ringleader had paused behind his companions and was turning back in your direction, you all but broke out into a sprint.

It wasn’t until you reached the truck that you dropped Archie’s arm, waiting by the door for him to grab the keys and unlock the truck for you. It was a simple act that was seemingly taking a long time as Archie was bent over resting on his knees. You doubted he’d intended to pull a gun out, and under other circumstances you’d normally attempt to coax him out of his shock, but at the moment you were too rattled yourself, too furious to even speak.

When he eventually collected himself and found the keys you wasted no time in clambering into the truck, immediately pushing yourself as far to the window as you could and crossing your arms across your chest, hoping he’d get the message. The need for silence was apparently mutual as Archie didn’t even look at you as he started the car and began the drive back.

Out of habit you rubbed your wrist with your soulmark, expecting the cool metal and small clinks in the metal band of your watch to pinch and rubs against your skin. But, of course, you were met only with the cold skin of your wrist, having taken off your watch when you changed into your night clothes and not having the chance to return it to its rightful place before rushing out of the house.

Archie remained silent as he sped towards home. The quiet hung heavy on you as you stared at the familiar words on your wrist, fleetingly illuminated for brief seconds under each street lamp you passed.

Hey, what the hell are you doing. The same words that had always been the cause of insecurity and self-consciousness were there as always. And yet, something was different tonight, the mark bringing with it a certain heaviness as your brain reeled, struggling to catch up with a revelation on the top of your head, an epiphany waiting to be realised.

What was it that Serpent had said before?

And there was something else your mind was searching for. Ah yes, the perfect phrase for this situation. What was it again?

Right.

Oh fuck.

[kingpendleton]

Identity Theft

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Request: “63 and 67 separately jughead x reader please if its too much then could you just do 67 thank you”

Prompt: #67 “Are you getting jealous?” - “You’re changing your outfit, now!”

Warnings: I think there’s more than one curse in this one? Also allusions to sex but no actual sex because I’m innocent

A/N: I didn’t want this to get sexual like it did but OOPS I guess I’m just really thirsty lately

Tag list: @1amluke, @betty-coopers-number-one-stan, @keepcalmandflywithtoothless, @lostinpercyseyes, @captainsuperfangirl

The first time anyone noticed, you managed a quick lie.

Sitting at lunch, surrounded by all of your friends, you were waiting for Jughead to grab the two of you lunch. That’s when you noticed the looks they threw your way. Knowing smiles graced their faces, and oh how you hated knowing smiles.

“What?” You direct this at Kevin, knowing he loves telling people information when they’ve been in suspense.

He raises an appraising eyebrow and smiles. “Hon, that’s Jughead’s flannel.”

You look down and realize that the muted green fabric is, indeed, Jug’s flannel. Looking back to the four sitting in front on you, you wrap the offending article of clothing tightly around you. “Jug must have left it when he came over for homework.”

Betty tries to suppress her full-blown grin but fails miserably, Ronnie right along with her.

��Yeah,” V nods her head in agreement playfully, “Of course. Homework. That was it.”

You give them all a warning look before going back to stealing fries from Archie to tide you over until the boy of the hour sidles up next to you, lunch tray in one hand and laptop cradled in the other.

Once seated, he begins shoveling food into his mouth and starting up his laptop, paying no mind to the group around him other than a nod and a smile thrown your way.

“So, Jughead.” He looks up at the sound of Kevin’s voice. “What were you doing last night?”

Jughead gives a little shake of his head, confused at the out of place question. “I did homework with Y/N?”

Kevin huffs, obviously disappointed that not only did he not catch you in a lie but that you were, in fact, boring enough to do homework together.

You smile over at Jug only to see he has already tuned out again. “See? We did homework, I grabbed his flannel this morning on accident. No big deal.”

No one else sees Jug’s hand slip under the table to rest on your thigh, a smirk developing on his face.

The second, third, and fourth time are all the same scenario.

B and V are over at yours, helping you study for calculus because how are you supposed to focus when it’s last period and you have food and Jug waiting for you at Pop’s? And, each time, it’s always Veronica that finds it. A jacket of his hanging on your chair, a pair of his boxers that you insist he gave you to for a white elephant present folded in your drawer, patterned socks that are way too big for your own feet hiding under your bed. And each time, all you get is the same knowing smirk from the two girls. 

You feel heat rise all the way to your ears and you stammer out a lie you know isn’t convincing anyone.

You start wearing his jacket. All of the time. It’s getting cold and the soft wool is comforting and thicker than any of the zip-up jackets you have.

And, okay, you not-so-secretly love wearing his clothes. What is so flirty and appealing about it you’re not sure, but it smells like him and that’s enough incentive.

Of course, the entirety of your Sad Breakfast Club notices and, after the first time you wear it, refrain from commenting again.

Jughead, however, won’t stop talking about it.

“Y/N, you wearing my jacket is doing nothing to keep us low-key.”

You pout. “C’mon, Jugbug, I’m cold! And you’re jacket is so nice!”

He raises an eyebrow, checking down the empty hallway before gently pushing you against a wall. His hands start at your hips, sliding up your sides and all the way past your shoulders, resting his weight on the wall on either side of your head.

“But, darling, you’d look so much nicer without it.”

You only realize how much of Jug’s stuff you have hoarded when you can no longer find a pair of your own jeans.

Sure, you’re wearing not only his t-shirt and jacket, and who even knows if these are his socks, but the only pair of jeans in sight are light-wash with holes around the knees. You instantly know they’re his, as you distinctly remember him flinging them across the room and them landing on top of the lamp where they currently reside. Well, they’ll have to do.

As you walk into school, completely decked out in Jug’s clothes, Ronnie strolls up beside you to loop her arm through yours.

“Jughea’s apparel again, I see? Honestly, Y/N, if you need new clothes B and I would be more than happy to oblige.”

From your other side, Betty nods in agreement. “I haven’t been shopping in ages, we should go today! It’s spring so most stores will be bringing in their summer collection, and I need to swap my cardigans for something more lightweight anyway.”

Ronnie spots Kevin at his locker, steering the three of you his direction.

He gives you one look and that god-damn smile you hate so much makes a reappearance. “You took the term ’boyfriend jeans’ to heart, I see.” Your friends give a smile his way, trying to suppress it to save you further embarrassment.

“I don’t know what boyfriend you’re referring to, but when you find one for me let me know.”

That same day, Jughead catches up to you on your way to the lunch table, subtly bumping hands as you go along. Before sitting down, he whispers, “You really should get some of your own clothes.” You smack his arm and see the playfulness dancing in his eyes. “It’s basically identity theft at this point.”

Shopping with B and V turned into shopping with the entire Scooby gang, but you didn’t mind as much. What you did mind were the clothes V threw your way in the dressing room.

The clothes weren’t ugly, exactly, actually they made you look hot. But you didn’t need clothes like that, you needed more everyday clothes to replace the ones you’d lost when you’d swapped them out for Jug’s.

“Show us what you try on!” You hear V yell, and you just know the evil look she has in her eyes.

“I’m not going to do that!” You shout back. “I’m uncomfortable and all of you are just waiting out there to judge me.”

“Uncomfortable because they don’t fit or uncomfortable because they do?”

Your silence is all the answer she needed, and her laughter tinkles out over the dressing room, joined by Kevin’s chuckle.

“Y/N,” Jughead interrupts their laughter, “Come show us what you have.”

Traitor.

You slowly open the door to the dressing room, peeking out at your friends and checking that the coast is clear of others in the room before stepping out. It’s an outfit more typical of Veronica, jeans and crop top with a heeled boot. It’s cute, but the expanse of exposed skin between the top and the jeans has been zeroed in on by Jughead. No matter in public or in private, Jughead’s attention never fails to make you self-conscious.

One of the store’s attendants comes in, asking how everything is going. You wrap your hands around your middle as the employee gives you a once over.

“We’re fine,” comes Jughead’s hard voice. The employee scurries away with a rushed nod.

All of your friends’ eyes are on Jughead now.

“I’m hungry, we should get some lunch,” he tries to deflect, covering you up from view of your friends with his body as he tries to corral you back into the changing room.

“Oh, no no no, Jones. Wait just a second!” Jughead stops his attempts at hiding you. “Are you getting jealous?” You ask, eye trying to catch his playfully.  His eyes flick over to your friends, who are all watching in amusement.

“Oh, fuck it, they already know. You haven’t exactly been subtle.” B and V shake their heads in agreement. “You’re damn right I’m jealous.” He gives you a quick kiss to the cheek, but you don’t let him get away with that. Your arms slide around his neck as his circle your waist, his fingers slowly tracing a pattern onto the dip in your back.

A cough comes from one of the friends behind you. A quiet “fuck off” is all they get from Jug, until an unfamiliar voice makes them face the group.

“Uh, so… Everything is fine here?” The employee from earlier asks, his eyes averting themselves from the two.

“We’re fine, thank you!” Veronica says cheerily. Once the attendant leaves, Ronnie looks to Jug. “So, are you planning on sharing, or will we have to pry Y/N from your roaming hands?”

You laugh, but noticing the seriousness in V’s question he just pushes you back into the dressing room, closing the door behind you. “You’re changing your outfit, now!”

“Well, she did look good in it. Jug,” Archie points out.

Jughead looks between the group and the door to your room, before leaning against the door. You hear the trademark smirk in his voice. “But make sure to wear it tonight.”

A second passes, and you think he’s done but then he speaks up again.

“Although, you probably won’t be wearing it for long.”