#so here's a interesting fact steve dangle you know steve dangle right? the dude who yells on youtube about the leafs we love him

[goaliesarethebest]

JUSTIN ‘J-BONE’ HOLL SCORED ON THE REBOUND TO OPEN SCORING, MITCH MARNER DOING THE MOST TO KEEP THE PUCK IN POSSESSION WHILE TRAPPED IN THE CORNER HAS A GORGEOUS PASS TO JOHNNY TORONTO WHO ROCKETS IT IN, KERFY WITH A SHORTHANDED, CALLE JARNKROK (AGAIN: IT’S SO NICE TO HAVE HIM BACK) FINISHES A PONTUS HOLMBERG TOE-DRAG AND THEN THEN IN OVERTIME WILLY STYLES SAYS YOINK AS HE STEALS THE PUCK FROM A BLUE AND EXECUTES AN ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS BREAKAWAY BILL MAKES IT 5-4 AND THE BUDS MAKE ST.LOUIS SING THE BLUES. 

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read Into Me Chapter Two: The Importance of Being Earnest

Steve Harrington x Reader

Catch up on the series HERE

Word Count: 2,030

Warnings: Swearing, death illusion

Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than I’d like, but I promise that the next one is longer! Also, some of the tags aren’t working for some users, so I’m so sorry if you aren’t getting notifications for this series! If you know how to fix this lemme know!

Tags: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​  @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-whole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unussuallchild10 @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @lilmissperfectlyimperfect​

Steve was so very fucked. He’d been sat at his desk since he got home from school and could not think of a single fucking thing to write. He’d had his notebook open, his typewriter loaded with paper, pen uncapped and waiting to be used, and the most work he’d done was chew on its blue cap. He just couldn’t think.

Writing was not his thing. Reading was not his thing. School was not his thing. He had lines of trophies on his nearly empty shelf-swim meet, track and field, basketball, and baseball for one summer in fifth grade. He could understand how to play a sport. That was competitive, improvisational, and had a core outcome-you won, lost, or tied. The same three outcomes with a million ways to do it, a million variables to get in the way. Math and science were the same, he could swing Cs and Bs in those classes, but English was the opposite. There were too many opinions. Too many options. When he managed to read one of the assigned books for class and not merely the Cliff’s Notes, he found he had nothing to say about it. Everything the author said felt true, even when his teachers were telling him to look for specific things in the narrative. Sure, if someone told him that the conch shell in Lord of the Flies meant something, but if you asked him what he wouldn’t know. And he would believe you if you said that the conch shell didn’t mean anything. His essays were all crap.

He thought about calling Nancy. Nancy would know exactly how to help him, she always did. But Nancy was with Jonathan now and he wasn’t confident that they were still friends at all. If they were ever friends. He didn’t think that they were. They weren’t really friends before they dated. Still, his hand hovered over the egg shell white rotary phone on his desk, a gift from his eleventh birthday. He lifted the phone off its hook, dialling the number off by heart. It took three rings for someone to pick up.

“Eleven?” Mike Wheeler’s frantic voice came through the other end. Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, the boy was far too attached to that girl, it was honestly concerning.

“Nah dude it’s Steve, your sister around?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s out with Jonathan.” Mike’s voice dropped into one of boredom. “You know, her boyfriend?” he was such a little shit sometimes.

“Yeah, I know dipshit, you wanna tell her I called when she gets back?” Steve huffed back.

“If I remember.” With that, the call went dead. Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. What a fucking waste of time. He’d never hear back now, that kid didn’t like him from the start and would do whatever he could to keep them from being friends.

What was to be done now? He didn’t have anything to say about his spring break! Mr. Lawrence was a bastard for even asking him to write about it. Nothing happened! His parents went to Miami Beach to rekindle their marriage for the hundredth time and left Steve at home alone. He tried to throw a party but almost got busted by the cops with a fake ID at the Pick n’ Save and Tommy’s brother wouldn’t give them any weed to supplement what would’ve been a pretty dry party. He cancelled the party after that and sat at home alone. Nothing much to tell about and definitely wouldn’t fill a page, even if he used the longest words he knew.

Steve stood from his desk, looking through his shelf till he found the heavy yellow pages he’d put on the bottom of his shelf to weigh the sucker down so it wouldn’t fall over as fast. He flipped it open, searching through the numbers till he found what he was looking for, lifting the receiver off its hook again.

Across the street, you were sprawled out on your rose printed bedspread, your head in your hands with Samantha sat on your desk chair, laughing at your pain. “You know it’s not that bad, right? You could’ve gotten stuck with someone way worse.” She said, mindlessly digging through the black jewellery box sat dusty in the corner of your desk. Your mother had sent it from Spain and had filled it with different things she found across Europe. You didn’t care much for the stuff yourself but you kept it on your desk to show that you used it, not that she was ever home to seemed to notice.

Your bedroom was clean and stark white. It used to be pink, to match the rest of your white iron rod and pink padded furniture. You didn’t like the pink that much, and you didn’t adore the white, but you could hide it behind the art you tacked to the wall. Every portrait, still life, and landscape painting you’d been proud of hung proudly in your home gallery. You’d done recreations of your favourite album covers, and splatter art with balloons, and a few charcoal drawings of your grandparents and your father. You’d painted clouds and stars on your ceiling when you were in middle school, and while they had a lot of room for improvement, you left them above your head as a comfort to you. Your father had helped you scrape the popcorn ceiling down flat and helped paint the ceiling sky blue. It was your last project together.

“Oh yeah totally…” you said through your hands, refusing to look at her, focusing instead on the yellow sun spots floating under your eyelids.

“I mean, you could’ve gotten stuck with Tracy Lords again, she’s in that class.” Samantha replied easily, pulling out a green sea glass bangle from the top drawer, running her fingers over the red velvet interior of the box. Tracy Lords was a menace to productivity, at least she was according to Samantha. They had issues, which meant that you did too by association, but she’d done nothing to you except glare and pop her gum at you.

“At least she does her work!” you sat up, letting your feet dangle over your bed. “I don’t think he’s ever done his work on time, he’s always late with stuff!”

“That’s not your problem; as long as you do your work then Lawrence won’t care.” She flashed the bangle in front of your face “You should wear this more it’s nice.”

You shrugged “You can have it if you want.” You didn’t really care about what your mother sent you, it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t care enough about you to be home for more than a month out of the year. Besides, where on earth were you supposed to wear any of it? Your mother loved to spend your father’s riches on random, useless crap and you hated the idea of showing off the money your father died for. It wasn’t anything to brag about.

“Nah, not my style, it won’t match any of my stuff.” She put the bracelet back, closing the box with a metallic thump. “But anyway, you’ll be fine. Steve’s completely harmless.” You weren’t exactly sure if you believed her.

The phone on your desk blared loudly. You begrudgingly jumped off the bed, pulling it off the hook. Your grandmother was still at the hair salon and if you didn’t answer, one of her little friends from the old folk’s home might think that she died again.

“Hello?” you asked, motioning for Samantha to move over a bit, closing your white curtains closed again, your eyes scanning the streets with a bored expression.

“Hey is this Y/N?” Steve asked cautiously. He couldn’t quite remember your voice but he had double checked your last name in the year book and the phone book.

“Yeah, who is this?” dread filled your stomach the second he spoke, you were hoping against hope that it wasn’t Steve. You could see him pacing his window from across the street.

“Hey it’s Steve from English?” Fucking hell. You wanted to slam the damn receiver onto its hook. But if you did that, Samantha would think that you were crazy and you didn’t want to seem like such a baby.

“Oh hey what’s up?” you asked cautiously. Samantha was pulling at your sleeve, mouthing ‘Who is it?’ at you. You pulled your arm away, pushing her chair away from you with your foot.

“Oh nothing much, I was just wondering how your paper’s going?” Steve didn’t really know why he called you, he wasn’t certain that you’d even help him if he asked. He hardly knew you, he couldn’t name two things about you. But you seemed smart, you could be of some help if he had the balls to ask for it.

“Oh um…it’s fine. How’s yours going?” your hand came to the back of your neck, rubbing it awkwardly. You wanted to run away, to utterly disappear into another dimension. You didn’t like strangers, especially the whole small talk part. You didn’t feel like you had anything interesting to say about yourself and you hated silence. Your mind just didn’t come up with questions to ask.

Steve’s face burned. He couldn’t admit that he was stupid now; he was hoping that he wasn’t the only idiot in the class. “Oh um it’s good! I’m almost done.” He said, mentally cursing himself for saying that he was anywhere near finished.

“Oh cool. Do-do you want to switch them off tomorrow?” Now you had no idea what this phone call was even about. In the back of your mind, you assumed that he just had a question about the essay, but now you had nothing to grab onto.

“Yeah sure, that works for me.” He said, looking to his empty paper.  He was so totally screwed now. He couldn’t admit that he was an idiot to you, not when you already had everything so clearly understood. You spoke so confidently, it made him feel small and pointless.

“Okay…I’ll see you in class then.” You said. Steve bid an awkward goodbye and you both hung up unsure what the hell had just happened.

Samantha was on her feet, jumping on your mattress “Did Steve Harrington just call you?!?” she cried, following it was it a giddy scream. You hushed her, rolling your eyes.

“It’s nothing to freak out about, you weirdo!” you countered, turning to face her fully with a sullen expression. Your heart was still pounding hard in your chest, adrenalin pumping through your veins.

Samantha landed on her knees, looking up at you incredulously “What? He’s cool! That’s cool! Boys never call you!”

“Way to rub that one in.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Talking to people wasn’t your strong suit, and while for the most part you were okay with not having many friends, you lack of experience with relationships made you very insecure. “You crushed one of your spikes on my ceiling.”

Samantha reached up and touched each individual black spike with the tips of her finger, finding the dented one at the top of her head. “It’s true! God, I’ve got more guys calling me and I’m a lesbian.” She lowered her voice at the mention of her sexuality. You both knew that your grandparents wouldn’t be kind to her if they knew, their homophobia a mark of their small mindedness.

“Yeah, well, the guys at this school are all idiots.” You looked back to your paper, pulling your red pen out from behind your ear and crossing out a word on your essay.

“You didn’t think Jonathan Byers was an idiot.” Samantha replied. You cheeks flashed cherry red. It wasn’t fair of her to even mention him. He was a dickhead and Samantha knew it.

“Yeah, well now I know that he’s just as big of an idiot as everyone else is.” You muttered, pulling your desk chair over and taking a seat once again.  You didn’t have the time for stupid boys, anyways. You had work to do.

[grogunotfound]

First Day

PART TWO OF THE DILEMMA SERIES

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: enjoy (:

---

Your alarm went off at 8am sharp. You sat upright immediately and started to untangle your legs from the blankets. You couldn't wait for your first class of the day: art history.

"Good morning," your roommate, Isabella Soare, smiled from her desk. She was up all night making stuff for her art portfolio.

"Morning! Get any sleep?" You dangled your legs off of the edge of your bed.

She shook her head, "Maybe a good three hours..."

You laughed and stood up to stretch. You and Isabella briefly met the night before, which was after you toured the campus with Chris. She had just settled in when you introduced yourself.

"What classes do you have today?" You asked her as you picked out your outfit of the day.

She set down her paintbrush and swiveled in her desk chair to face you, "Well..." She gave you a rundown of her schedule, leaving you speechless.

"Dude, I only have like two classes today..." You laughed in disbelief. "Good luck! Do you want anything from the cafeteria for breakfast?"

Isabella shook her head again and turned back to her artwork, "I'll head down on my own once I finish this portrait. Thank you, though!"

You nodded and smiled in response before quickly changing into your clothes. You continued your morning routine: brushed your teeth, put on nice makeup for your first day, and whatnot.

Afterwards, you fixed your bedsheets and picked up your backpack, which had a few notebooks weighing it down already. "I'll see you later!" You gathered all your necessities for the day and headed for the door.

"Have a great day!" Isabella chirped.

With that, you walked into the quiet hallway. You checked the watch on your wrist for the time—it was only 9am You decided to head to the cafeteria for some breakfast because your art history class didn't start until 10:30am.

Luckily, you ran into Chris and some of his friends from his fraternity house on your way to the cafeteria. You two made eye contact, making your heartbeat speed up as your breath got caught in your throat. He gave you a tiny smile before turning back to his friends to say something.

He was dressed in gym gear: a tight-fitting shirt, gray sweats, and his exercise shoes. He must've just finished his morning workout routine because his forehead was shiny and his shirt was drenched with sweat.

"I'll catch up with you guys back at the house," he "bro-handshaked" his friends before jogging up to meet you once you reached the bottom of the stairs.

You smiled, "Good morning."

He smiled backed, "Morning. You ready for your first day?"

"More than ever! I'm running super early, so I was gonna grab some breakfast." You started to walk away from him, already feeling your cheeks flare red.

"Mind if I join?" He caught up to you and held the cafeteria's door open for you.

You nodded, "Sure. Thanks." You stepped into the cafeteria, immediately overwhelmed with how busy it was already.

"Here," Chris grabbed your hand and started guiding you through the cafeteria with a breeze. He stopped at an empty table and gestured for you to sit down, which you did. "What do you want? I'll go grab it for you. The employees love me."

You laughed, "So cocky...but, um, I don't know. What do they have?"

He stuck his tongue out at you, "Oh, the basics. Muffins, croissants, breakfast burritos..." He rambled on and on.

"Can I get a blu---" he interrupted you.

"Blueberry muffin? Coming right up!" He speeded away to the other side of the cafeteria.

You chuckled to yourself at the fact that he knew what you wanted. You two truly were best friends. You glanced down at your phone for the time: 9:45am.

Only five minutes passed once Chris came back with not one, but two blueberry muffins in his hands as well as various fruits. He gave you a toothy smile and set the food in front of you and himself.

"Breakfast is served," he said in a posh accent.

"Thank you," you smiled and took a bite of the freshly made muffin.

He nodded in response and began chowing down on his own breakfast. "What classes do you have today?" He asked in between bites.

"Art history and some business class. I don't remember the name." You patted a napkin over your lips. "I'm really excited. I heard the professors for those two classes are really good."

"I'm glad to hear that! My first class isn't until 1 in the afternoon." He continued to blabber on. You noticed how much Chris talked with you. It was interesting, but you didn't mind. You were on the quiet side anyways. You two complemented each other really well.

The two of you continued to catch up before you had to head to your first class, which he offered to walk you. You declined because you didn't want to feel dependent on him. After you finished your breakfast, you gave Chris a hug before leaving the cafeteria.

⁂⁂⁂

You arrived at the lecture hall about ten minutes early, but the professor and some students were inside already. So, you found a seat towards the front of the room. Your professor looked up for a brief moment and gave you a light smile before returning back to the task at hand.

"Hey," one of the students nearby whispered to you.

You turned towards the source slowly, unsure if they were speaking to you. You made eye contact with a man who seemed too old to be a college freshman. He was dressed in semi-formal attire: a button down shirt, slacks, and dress shoes. He seemed very old-fashioned.

"Hi," he repeated himself and gestured to the empty spot next to you. "Would you mind if I sat next to you? I realized that I can't see the board from here."

You hesitated, 'What if he's a serial killer trying to get closer to you?' You shook the question out of your head and nodded, "Sure." You wondered why he didn't choose any of the other empty spots close by, but then you realized that the class was starting to fill up since it was 10:35am. The front row would soon be filled. You set your bag on the seat next to you as you waited for this mystery student to join you.

"Excuse me. I'm sorry, " you heard him apologize as he made his way towards you. You removed your bag once he reached you. "Thank you so much."

"No worries," you nodded and pulled out a blank notebook as the professor stood up to begin his lecture.

Class went by pretty quickly. Your professor, Mr. Douglass, let everyone out early because it was just an easy course overview day.

"I'm Y/N by the way." You introduced yourself as you began packing up your stuff. You decided it would be a good idea to make friends on your first day.

He held out his hand for you to shake, "Steve Rogers."

[arigatouiris]

daughter of artemis || p.p  — [01]

c h a p t e r  o n e 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe. 

Author’s Note: Thank you for all the love, guys! It’s going to be a bit slow initially, so bear with me. Also, all the things I’ve written about the Greek gods here is fictional, so I hope that’s clear beforehand. 

And if you want to see your name in the taglist, add yourself here! 

Word count: 3750

main masterlist || series masterlist 

00 - 01 - 02  

01 // σκόνη dust

❅

She opened her eyes and gasped loudly, as a car stopped in front of her. Looking around, (y/n) realized she was in the middle of the road, busy traffic, and cars and moving vehicles halted at her abrupt appearance out of nowhere. It was dark, strange because it was not so dark back in Phokis. Clutching her stinging hip, tears filled her eyes with the sudden shock of realizing her uncle had sent her somewhere using some out-of-the-ordinary trick. People were now yelling at her, and just as her vision cleared—(y/n) looked around to see tall buildings surrounding her, with herself in the middle of an ocean of modern civilization.

    “Hey, girl! Get out of the way!”

Just as she was about to take a step, she felt herself being lifted off the ground, a gasp exiting her lips just as her eyes shut due to the impact again. She felt something coil around her, preventing her from falling; her senses were right, she was up in the air. Opening her eyes once again, she noticed the city swinging below her, someone was grabbing her, her legs dangling in the air, her chin resting on what felt and looked like a red shoulder. (y/n) struggled right away, kicking the air below her, wanting to get off the grasp of this creature that was taking her away from where she needed to be.

    “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m only trying to help, relax!” Came a voice, from this creature.

A moment later, it placed her on the roof of a building, as tall as the buildings around her. Looking around, she understood that this was definitely America, considering this creature in a costume’s accent, and the height of the buildings. It was nothing like the cities in Greece, here there were more people and more noise. Looking at the creature in front of her, the thirteen year old had to do a double take. He wore a spider costume, his face covered with a funny looking mask, and for some strange reason, his costume smelled like iron.

    “What are you?” She asked, scrunching her eyes at him.

The creature almost looked offended by her question. Did it expect her to know who he or it was?

    “I’m your friendly neighborhood Spiderman! D-Don’t you—?”

The clueless expression that she gave off prevented this Spiderman from continuing further. Immediately, his head turned to her hip, causing her to try to hide it from him, but to no avail.

    “Oh, dude. Dude! You’re hurt. Where are your parents? I’ll take you—”

    “I don’t need help from a freak like you.” (y/n) was not interested in having a conversation with a man in a costume.

    “No, listen. If you don’t get that checked out, it’ll get infected. Where are your—” He stopped suddenly before observing her.

She looked like she was from another place, especially if she didn’t know who Spiderman was; she was injured, her hair disheveled, her eyes hostile, and her heart was beating rapidly against her chest. It wasn’t as if she was hiding something, it was blatantly clear to him now that she had run away.

    “You’re a runaway.”

(y/n)’s eyes narrowed, not surprised that he had figured it out. Turning her back to him, she walked off, not knowing where she was going, but her current agenda was to get away from this Spiderman.

He grabbed her wrist and turned her around.

    “Listen, I’m only trying to help. Please, let me—”

In an instant, before he even noticed it, her right leg met his chin. She grabbed his throat using her foot, while using her other foot to topple him over. Putting his head in a headlock, (y/n) squeezed before hearing the costume man gasp. Pressing her right hand to the ground, she bolted away from there, jumping across the rooftop like it was easy. Spiderman didn’t catch up right away, but was dazed with what she had displayed. She was a thirteen year old girl, he could definitely keep up with someone like her!

    “P-Please, I’m only trying to help!” Spiderman’s voice chased after her.

Sliding down a pipe, (y/n) made her way to what appeared to be an alleyway. A barred fence was in front of her, which she found no difficulty climbing. Slipping past Spiderman would be easy if he couldn’t see her, therefore, she kept her visibility minimum. She moved in the shadows, using her surroundings to camouflage her movements. What seemed like a couple of minutes later, she had found the perfect place to hide. A trash bin, which was recently emptied. It smelt like the filth of everything American, but it was part of her surroundings now, and she was being hunted.

She listened to the silence around her, nothing but sirens and car horns could be heard; closing her eyes, she pictured Spiderman, she pictured where he could be after judging his movements from following her. There were numerous possibilities as to where he could have gone off, or if he had been successful in following her route.

A moment later, (y/n) breathed out, relaxed. Spiderman had lost her. Getting out of the trashcan, (y/n) looked at herself. She wore her mother’s old jacket—beige in color, but the color seemed to have faded now since it had been such a long time since her mother had even worn it. She wore dark blue jeans, once again, her mother’s, which were faded. Canvas shoes, torn by the sole from all the running. A grey tank top with bandages around it, revealing splotches of blood by her left hip. Her hair was free and disheveled. (y/n) breathed in to calm herself, but failed.

She looked homeless. Lost. Hopeless. And she was once a princess in Olympus.

❅

Walking past what looked like a bakery, (y/n) stepped back and looked at the various assortments of bread and cake within the store. She remembered how she told her mother long ago that she hated sweet things, but secretly liking a couple here and then. Artemis always knew this fact about her daughter, and would surprise her now and then with a small sweet gift after breakfast. Artemis wasn’t like the other gods. She liked human things, she liked to dress as the humans, talk as them, and behave as them—wanting to be one with them.

Perhaps this was why Artemis met with cruel fate. For Gods and men could never stand on the same ground.

    “Hey! Get out of here, don’t stare at my shop!” The woman from inside the bakery yelled at her.

Quickly scurrying away, (y/n) felt fresh tears sting her eyes. No one cared, these people were strange and didn’t know her. These people were poison. She was on the footpath, random people walking past her, not giving her a second glance. To them, she was just another person, a child with no home. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream at her uncle for bringing her here without warning. How could she find this Pepper person without any clue? Pepper was the clue, her mind repeated.

Pepper was such a strange name. Who was this Pepper? And how was Pepper related to her father? Was this person even someone worth remembering?

Was Pepper a nickname for her father?

(y/n) shut her eyes before trying to calm herself once more. She remembered her life from earlier, of how simple it used to be when her mother was around. Artemis had made life seem so simple and forgoing, her positivity made (y/n) believe she could tackle anything in the world. Even while she taught (y/n) to hunt, to use the bow, to defend herself as she had against Spiderman, Artemis had always told her to be kind.

    On the day of the prophecy, she missed her mother the most. (y/n) had never understood the celebration that Delphi brought along in Olympus; a secret ceremony for the Gods. This time, word got out that Delphi had something far more important to say—a prophecy that would directly impact all Gods in Olympus. Hera wasn’t pleased, as usual, since she loved where she was and how she was revered. Hera seemed like the only person who wasn’t affected with Artemis going missing.

Apollo had stayed away from (y/n) ever since his twin sister was nowhere to be found. The animals ran wild, the woman sunk into a terrible dreaded depressive state, and disease struck every pregnant mother in Greece. Artemis would never forget her duties like this, not this randomly, he knew her better than she knew herself. He turned to spot his niece, several feet ahead of him in the great hallway of Zeus’ castle. Biting his teeth, he turned away before she could spot him.

Ever since (y/n) had been born, Artemis was known as the Goddess that broke her vow. Zeus had lost complete respect for his daughter, and Hera’s jealousy got in the way of everything. Although (y/n) was not loved, she was half-God, and therefore, a princess of Olympus. Artemis made sure (y/n) was treated with respect, if not love. But, Apollo—he could not meet her in the eye. Apollo could never forgive (y/n) for being born, for ruining his sister’s reputation. And he knew, in his heart, that her disappearance was due to (y/n) in some way.

When the prophecy was about to be announced, (y/n) was seated in the far back, so far Apollo could barely see her until he looked around and spotted her. She looked sad; she always looked sad, but there was something about her sadness that day that sent fear into his heart. Turning away, he noticed a frail old woman in the middle of the grand hall, the Oracle, about to give her final prophecy.

    “As Artemis sleeps, her daughter will rise, the new moon she will be, with fate and the sun at her side,” Apollo blinked before standing up, Zeus’ ushering him to sit down, and Delphi continued, “And when Clotho stops spinning the thread of fate, Lachesis and Atropos go into a slumber for five years.”

‘The fates go to sleep?’ Apollo couldn’t understand. Turning to his niece, he saw fear had clouded her mind. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest, and he knew it and felt it. He sensed the death in the air, circling around her.  

“And once their slumber ends, then shall arise the new moon,” Delphi pointed towards where (y/n) was sitting, whose eyes were wide now. “Who completes her final hunt, ending Zeus’s fate as King. All his henchman made of blood and stone will erode at her hunt, and Olympus will no longer be a land for the Gods.”

When Delphi stopped, (y/n) ran. Apollo let out a breath but not of relief, he knew this was bad. He knew his sister was dead, in his heart he knew, and he was going to witness his niece suffer the same fate. He closed his eyes and felt his father bring forth a storm.

    But, Apollo knew where she would go. Phokis, to her mother’s temple. He’d meet her there.

(y/n) ran, but she knew she’d be caught. Within the palace, Zeus had eyes everywhere. He knew where she went and where she could go, there was almost no escape if she was inside. She couldn’t register the prophecy, she couldn’t think about anything but her mother. Did her mother know? Was that why she left?

Was that why the fates declared her dead?

Clutching the dagger her mother had given her, a day before disappearing, (y/n) made it to the exit, that peaked over Mt. Olympus, but screamed when a massive force hit her left hip. There was blood everywhere, and the javelin stopped a few feet ahead of her. Turning to spot one of Zeus’ henchmen, the Boar as he called himself, (y/n) got back up on her feet and ran.

She knew his henchmen were made from his blood, she knew they were neither human nor God, they were his creation just as sand and stone. They had no life, but only motive—the motive was to serve Zeus in anyway they could.

Leaning over a bridge that overlooked the forests, (y/n) fell backwards before the Boar threw another javelin at her. And thus, she would run. To the temple where her mother always took her.

❅

In New York, on that strange night, (y/n) felt absolutely alone. There was not a single soul in the world left who cared if she lived or died. Her uncle had saved her life as a favor to his sister, but that was all. Now, she was on her own, in a strange place filled with strange people. As she walked on the streets towards nowhere but an unfamiliar darkness, (y/n) felt a grief in her heart that resembled fear. Her stomach churned and her wound burned, her mind was clouded with a sorrow only she knew, and she yawned more times than she could count.

A second later, grief turned to a haunting fear, causing her eyes to widen. A clap of thunder could be heard in the skies, New York was getting ready to pour. The rain meant Zeus could find her, the second one drop fell on her skin, Zeus would know where she was. She looked around for shelter and found none; the smell in the air changed, it smelt like it was going to rain.

Please, she prayed to her mother, knowing she was dead and couldn’t hear her. Please, she prayed to her uncle, wondering if he had given up on her. Please, she prayed to no one, letting go of hope.

Hands wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up in the air. Opening her eyes, she looked at Spiderman’s masked face, holding her as he swung in the air.

    “Are you a God?” She asked, swearing she knew every God in Midgard, but not having heard of this creature.

Spiderman chuckled before saying, “Nah, Thor and Loki are Gods. I’m just a regular superhero.”

Superhero? She thought before clutching on to him as tightly as she could, not wanting to fall.

    “Don’t worry, I won’t let go.” He said, tightening his grasp around her.

    “How are you doing this?”

    “You have a lot of questions for a little girl.”

(y/n) frowned, “You’re as tall as I am.”

    “Am not!” Spiderman fought back, causing her to roll her eyes.

    “And you sure can fight.” Spiderman grumbled.

    “I’m sorry. I thought you were a freak.” She heard him chuckle.

Dropping her on a building, it hadn’t rained yet. She quickly ran under cover, looking up to the sky in caution.

    “You don’t like the rain?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to give him anymore information about herself. She didn’t know who he was, and there was no way she could trust a man with a mask.

    “Alright, listen. I know you’ve runaway from someplace. I won’t ask. But, you’re hurt and you need to get that checked. This is a shelter for the homeless, and I know it sounds terrible, it’s run by this amazing person named May Parker, and I’m sure you’ll be comfortable here. They have food and they can keep you away from the rain.” Spiderman told her.

She didn’t want to trust him, but she also looked like she was contemplating on taking his help.

    “You can trust me, you don’t know who I am and I don’t know who you are. Sometimes, it’s better this way to trust someone, right?”

(y/n)’s eyes widened. She looked up at Spiderman and found no expression. He was right, he was someone she didn’t know, in this strange place, who was trying to help her out. She nodded once before watching him fist bump the air, and then clearing his throat. (y/n) smiled at him once, before biting her lip and letting him lead her downstairs.

On approaching a middle-aged woman, who was wearing glasses, Spiderman waved at her and pointed to (y/n).

    “Hey, May!”

May was a beautiful woman, with a warm smile. Smiling at Spiderman and then turning to (y/n), her eyes widened in fear upon noticing her wound. She immediately called for first aid.

    “Goodness, how did this happen?”

(y/n) stupidly looked at Spiderman and scrunched up her eyebrows. Gesturing randomly a couple of times, he blurted out, “Uh, she was mugged. Yeah! She was mugged. It was terrible. She’s fine otherwise, and um, so…” He turned to her, noticed her nod once, and continued, “She’ll need to stay here a couple of days. Is that cool?”

May rolled her eyes. A nurse came to her side in a second and she said, “She can stay here for as long as she likes. But, you’ll need to go back to school once this is all over.”

(y/n) looked at Spiderman and smiled. The man or boy in the mask gave her a thumbs up before walking away. (y/n) sighed, before letting the nurse treat her wound. It seemed alright, for the time being, since she was away from Olympus and Zeus, and everything that was perhaps trying to hunt her down. May led her to a bed after that, and (y/n) took off her jacket and lay down. She wasn’t hungry, but May promised to bring down some food for her after some time.

I miss you, she thought about her mother as she shut her eyes. She didn’t know for sure if this place was completely safe, but for some reason, she wanted to trust Spiderman. He seemed familiar in a way that made her feel at home—you feel familiar with a person you’ve never met before because they’re being kind to you. And Spiderman was being kind to her.

Closing her eyes, as she drifted off to sleep, (y/n) thought of Artemis.

❅

It had been a couple of hours since she had seen her mother. Something was strange—the air smelled different and there was a looming fear in her heart. Birds were flying as if a cyclone was about to hit them, animals were losing their mind. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, but Zeus was not angry, not that she knew of. She wanted to find her mother, and ask her what was wrong, but Artemis was nowhere to be found.

Ignoring the growing fear in her heart, she made her way to Apollo’s chambers, wanting to ask her uncle where her mother was. She knew her uncle didn’t like her very much, but this was about his sister—someone he definitely loved with all his heart. Apollo had always been cold to her, not wanting to speak to her for more than required, and not wanting any sort of other interaction with her. (y/n) respected his space, but this was important.

Knocking on his door, (y/n) gulped when he opened in a jiffy. Apollo grunted when he saw his niece standing there, but looked at her questioningly.

    “Mom…” Apollo was alerted. “She’s…gone. I can’t find her. I can’t reach her either. I don’t know—”

    “I thought she was with you.” Apollo whispered, his eyes narrowing.

(y/n)’s heart dropped.

    “N-No…” (y/n) was not normally a shy or timid person, but fear does this to children whose parents are missing.

    “When was the last time you saw her?”

Tell no one I gave you that dagger, her mother had instructed her before she walked into her temple.

    “Her temple in Phokis. We were there, but she asked me to come back. I thought she’d come after… after she finished her work there.” (y/n) was lying, and Apollo knew. But he knew that his niece had last seen her in Artemis’ temple.

    “I’ll go check the temple. The winds are not good. Stay inside. Try reaching her with your mind. She hears your calls.” Apollo snapped, before moving past her.

Artemis had given (y/n) a dagger with greek inscriptions on it. She had told her daughter that this dagger would be important and useful later, but she didn’t know why.

    “I don’t even know how to use it,” (y/n) said, frowning.

    “You will.” Artemis said, smiling at her.

Greece loved Artemis and Apollo, the star twins. Apollo was loved and respected as the sun was, music and poetry celebrated all over Greece. And animals adored Artemis, revering in her beauty and grace, women prayed to her for good fortune and health, her presence made things better for them. Slowly, (y/n) understood that their fame made Zeus’ look smaller in the eyes of the people in Greece and invariably in Olympus as well. And Zeus did not like it very much.

Married to Hera, Zeus often found himself jealous of his own children—a fact that brew fear in (y/n)’s heart, each time Artemis or Apollo were openly respected. And that night, when the moon did not show, (y/n) knew. She knew in her heart that she would never see her mother again.

❅

After what felt like an eternity, (y/n) woke up to complete silence. She opened her eyes and saw that it might be midday, she had slept for more than 14 hours. Slowly, she got up and sat on the bed and saw no one around her. All the beds in that large hall were empty, soiled, and eerily quiet.

    “Hello?” She said, it sounding almost like a whisper.

Getting up, she moved down the hall and saw more dust, scattered everywhere like something, somewhere had stopped from working.

    “Anyone?” She heard shuffling, but she wasn’t sure if it was a person.

On the streets, she saw cars, stopped, unmoving, no person in the road or the cars. The cars had hit each other and were dented in the front and back, the skies were empty and slowly turning dark, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Gasping, she turned around and saw more dust on the roads, and some dust flying in the air.

Dust was present where people once were. And the prophecy rang clearly in her head.

And when Clotho stops spinning the thread of fate, Lachesis and Atropos go into a slumber for five years.

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve put your urls here! 

@maddie-laufeyson, @mscoloneldanvers, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark, @spider-mendes, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames, @alina-margaret, @yourwonderbelle, @viarogers, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave @oliviaisnotlistening @mizpotatobiscuits @editsbyjenny @abbieroseb @justtrynagetthroughlife @secretlittlewonders @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com  

[orderoftheavengers]

Winter Sorcerer

Summary: Bucky Barnes died in the war against Grinderwald, and was resurrected by dark wizards as a vampire.

House: Hufflepuff

Species: Vampire (formerly human)

Blood Status: Pureblood

Wand: Plumwood, 13 inches, unicorn tail hair

Broom: Prefers flying motorbikes

Artificial Arm: Pullled from a suit of armor and enchanted.

Patronus: White wolf

Familiar: Rocket 

Specialties: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Pensieve use, Magical hat manufacturing, brooding

Sorting:

He has all the traits of Gryffindor, but is more defined by his loyalty to his country, friends, and sadly manipulators. He was friends with Steve back when Steve was a dweeb, and is overall a colossal cinnamon roll. While more than willing to fight for the right, Bucky always went into war like it was a duty that had to be done, not something he was particularly born to do. He did not admire pre-serum Steve's eagerness to get into fights. When he isn't needed, Bucky is glad to retreat into the safety and solace of his coffin. Finally, Bucky has a clear connection to nature, which is common in Hufflepuffs. For him it's not plants though, it's more animals. His nickname is White Wolf; he tends goats and thestrals in Wakanda; and he gets along with Rocket Raccoon.

Human Life:

Janus Ambrocius "Bucky" Barnibus was a middle-class, pureblood, American wizard at the time of Grinderwald. Bucky was a Prefect at Ilvermorny Institute of Magic, where he'd been in the Puckwudgie House--the House for "healers." Though Bucky never went into literal Healing as a career, his personality made him a good fit for the House. Bucky would later proove capable of healing himself, from wounds that would drive most wizards to permanent insanity or suicide.

Bucky looked out for his tiny Squib friend Stephanos "Steve" Rogers, who was rejected from all wizarding schools due to his lack of magic. Bucky once saved Steve from a literal troll, transforming the great horned, warted beast into a tiny flower-troll, and teleporting it to Central Park.

Bucky was drafted into the war against Grinderwald, before graduating school.  He was captured by Grinderwald's followers, and force-fed vampire's blood, as part of their twisted experiments. After Steve became the Superwizard, he saved Bucky, and the two attended Hogwarts--the school where the most important Auror students were sent--while continuing to fight the war. Here, Bucky was sorted into Hufflepuff House.

Death and Dark Rebirth:

During a battle on the Hogwarts Express, Bucky fell from a train car as it was rolling over a cliff. Before hitting the ground, something stopped his fall, and he found himself dangling from his left arm. Thinking someone had rescued him, he looked up at his rescuer and breathed, "Thanks pallie--" then stopped, upon realizing his "rescuer" was an Irish Whiskeybreath dragon. The drunk dragon bit down, taking Bucky's arm clean off, and munched away, while Bucky went back to falling. Bucky presumed dead by all of his comrades. In fact, he was dead... for a time.

But the vampire blood his captors had forced him to drink caused him to resurrect as a Nosferatu. Vampirism often causes major loss of memory and emotions, turning victims into monsters almost overnight. The Dark Wizards collected their new vampire, and began training him as their personal assassin. Since his arm had been lost before his transformation, it did not grow back as lost Vampire limbs do, and had to be replaced. The Dark Wizards enchanted an arm from a suit of armor, and eventually stamped it with the Dark Mark.

Regaining Humanity:

Steve Rogers was the first one to recognize Bucky, and help him remember his life as a human. Steve did this by refusing to fight back, and letting Bucky suck some of his blood, knowing that sucking blood allows a vampire access to its victim's memories. Bucky was far gone enough that none of his previous victims's memories--even those of his old friend Howard Stark--stuck with him. But Steve made sure to think about all the times Bucky told him, "I'm with you 'till the end of the line," and that did the trick.

Bucky fled from everyone and got himself a small apartment in Europe. There, he taught himself how to use a Pensieve, and began sucking the juice from plums to help boost his memory. At times, he would also find himself creating strange Wonderland-styled hats with his wand; a side-effect of the confusion his brain was going through.

But then one day when Bucky came home to find an owl waiting for him with a letter. It read:

Dear Mr. Barnabus,

It has come to our attention that you are not entirely dead, and have not yet finished your magical education. It is highly encouraged that you return to Hogwarts and once and continue your studies, unless you wish to continue living as a crazy-haired hobo.

Sincerely, Headmistress Minerva McGonnagal

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Bucky was sorted back into Hufflepuff, and rekindled his friendship with Steve and a rivalry with fellow Hufflepuff Sam Wilson. But a drunken Quidditch brawl caused everything to go up in smoke, and Bucky once again left Hogwarts. He transfered to Wakanda's wizarding school, where King T'Challa offered the vampire amnesty, a new arm, a vaccine against the Imperius Curse, and a comfy glass coffin.

Tired of war and violent sports, Bucky took an interest in Care of Magical Creatures. He spent his summer vacation in Wakanda on a Thestral farm, bonding with these creatures of death. Princess Shuri made Bucky a new enchanted armor-arm, with the Hufflepuff emblem on it, so that when his former Hogwarts classmates saw him again, they and Bucky both would be reminded of who he really was.

Irony... so much irony....

Contrary to popular belief, not all vampires disintegrate in the sunlight. That only happens to the weakest n00bs. Bucky had long since been crafted into one of the most powerful vampires on Earth, by the evil wizards who made him. When Shuri cured Bucky of the dark magic in his head, she assured him that he would still do just fine in sunlight. . And yet, at the end of the Battle of Wakanda, Bucky was shocked to see his metal arm dissolving into ash.

"Steve...I think my powers are weakening. I've literally never disintegrated in the sun before."

"Everyone's disintegrating!" Bruce cried. "Not just vampires! Thanos got all the Infinity Stones into his wand, and this was his goal!"

Bucky bellowed, "Oh you have got to be shi--" he was ash before he could finish his sentence.

Relationships:

Like most Hufflepuffs, Bucky has a long list of strong relationships, including:

The Winter Soldier: An annoying Alter Ego that occasionally still interrupts Bucky's thoughts, despite Shuri's best efforts. No longer in charge of Bucky's body, at least.  

Steve Rogers: BFF who helped him remember his pre-vampire life

Sam Wilson: Rival BFF for Steve

Helmut Zemo: A deranged squib Durmstrang reject, Zemo pitted the Order of the Avengers against each other by spiking their food with Firewhisky and Hobbitweed, and hexing all of their Quidditch balls into literal Idoit Balls. He also framed Bucky Barnes for a pumpkin bombing using a very blurry photograph, and naturally everyone was drunk enough to believe it. And to add insult to injury, Zemo used the Imperius Curse to make Bucky go on a blood-sucking rampage.

King T'Challa: Previously dead-set on killing Bucky, even when Bucky protested that he was innocent. But after coughing up all the alcohol and Hobbit hemp with a hairball, T'Challa sobered up, and felt horrible. He now provides for Bucky and pays for his magical education in Wakanda. Princess Shuri: Bucky's doctor, she created a potion for him to regularly take that would shield him from the Imperius Curse. She also made him his new Hufflepuff themed arm.

Mad-Eye Fury: Bucky tried to kill him, but that was before he regained his humanity. All the same, Nick can't walk past Bucky in the halls of Hogwarts without giving him some attention from his angry magical eye.

Tony Stark: Angst-bros, since Bucky was forced to kill Tony's parents, and Tony only found out when he was dumped head-first into a Pensieve with the memory playing on repeat, and then Tony tried to kill Bucky because he was standing right next to him and who the **** wouldn't, and both were already guilt-complex-driven characters, and so this relationship was obvious (whether canon addresses it or not)

Wanda Maximoff: Another former Hydra Death Eater, and one who specializes in mind-magic, she is someone Bucky has much in common with, and who could help him retrieve his memories. Very possible love interest; Bucky just has to wait for her to realize how boring Vision is.

Ava Starr: Another magical predator that used to be human, trained to help bad guys. Another possible girlfriend for Bucky.

Natasha Romanoff: Rumor has it they dated back when they were both villains, and many classmates are rooting for them to pick up where they left off

The Thestrals: Bucky fees, sheers, and snuggles with thestrals on his freetime in Wakanda

Rocket Raccoon: Bucky's love for animals doesn't end with Thestrals. He and Rocket--a raccoon/niffler hybrid--are badasses on the battlefield together. Being half niffler causes Rocket to be enamored with Bucky's shinny arm, solidifying the friendship.

Peter Parker:

"You have a robot arm? That is awesome dude!" 

"It's not robotic, it's enchanted armor." 

"You have an enchanted armor arm and you're a vampire? That is so COOL! Are you also a werewolf? Because your name is White Wolf. Are you a vampire/werewolf like in 'Underworld?' With a robot arm? Are you a vampire-werewolf cyborg? Can I base my World of Darkness character off you in my next campaign?"

"I'm not a werewolf. It's just a name."

"Cuz every night the whole Ravencalw commonroom does some tabletop games and Tuesday is World of Darkness Night, and I always try to come up with a cool character but I never can because I'm not really the creative type, except when it comes to science-stuff--"

"Parker I don't care."  

Eddie Brock: Another Hufflepuff/Puckwudgie guy with a sinister alter ego that won't shut up. Eddie and Bucky frequently complain about Venom and the Winter Soldier, who likewise complain about their goody two-shoes hosts.

Notes: "Harry Potter" canon has little to no information about vampires, other than brief mentions that they do exist in the Potterverse. So I just chose some cliched rules that fit with Bucky's story. You can expect updates on this, and all the other Avengers' Hogwarts descriptions, as more movies come out.

[floggingink]

bitch I bet you thought I’d forgotten about Riverdale, “Chapter Thirty-Seven: Fortune and Men’s Eyes”

I absolutely agree with Archie’s wild careening off the side of the road of justice to plead guilty to a crime he “may as well have” committed. I couldn’t believe Archie was so preposterously on the money about himself: “I didn’t kill anyone, but I could have.” GOOD, ARCHIE. I love Juvie Archie. better than Fascist Archie!!!!

I didn’t google “prison powder” to see if that shit’s soap or for lice or what but y’all’ll fill me in on that won’t you

“Leopold and Loeb” is just the level of allusory on-brand naming hubris I demand

“Captain Golightly” doesn’t seem to be a reference to anything other than a brutal dichotomy between whimsy and a dictatorial prison state

you know they hit us up with that Pop’s lighting not even at Pop’s! I never met a window I didn’t want to have bathe me in God’s light!

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the cross stitch quote on the warden’s wall, which I assume dude’s wife made for him because he and she adhere to traditional gender roles, is of course from Sonnet 29, referenced in the title to a play and 70’s movie very much about sexual slavery in prison (Archie has not seen it)

Day One at Juvie Coif: very good, uplifted, touchable but held fast

they really did the line-up of the Hot Dads of Riverdale right there: Tom seems to be eating pancakes and bacon, and FP is wearing a scarf like a headband but like a necklace

Fred’s flannel is an interesting mix of colors like, for a flannel, and Veronica appears to be wearing subtle yellow eyeshadow to go with her waitress dress

when were we going to hear about the three perjuring thugs? who corroborated Archie’s false confession???? cold

“Shadow County” is the third county in “Riverdale State”

The Blossom spawn: Dr. Patel seems to be the Cooper family GP with specialities in both obstetrics and neurology; Betty is still wearing her hospital bracelet

I never noticed the teensy blackboard under Alice’s kitchen cabinets; the Coopers are truly peak bourgeois chic

Polly’s itty bitty lace headband is good and the Farm has done wonders for her and Alice’s accessory game

Betty’s body language at “Uh...because I saw you and mom throw the twins on a fucking fire” is very funny (Betty has not told a joke yet)

Dilton Doiley is a canonically great dancer: RIP!!!!!!

I want to get out of the way that for some reason Jughead looks really good throughout this episode. I can’t explain why, maybe it’s because he’s finally wearing plaid again, but he looks good. if you thought he looked good in the first place, he’s back

is Betty wearing her Carrie: the Musical outfit?

last week I misheard Dilton and thought he said “Cardinal King,” and I was like, What? and then it got even better

Places Bughead are Fucking: the Blue & Gold office

Archie > Dawson: God bless Archie but he does try to be personable with Mad Dog right away, unleashing one of his legendary “bros.” how old were you when you realized you couldn’t do a pull-up? I’ve never done a pull-up in my goddamn life and certainly not to a vinyl of a piano sonata

Mad Dog (I just wrote “God,” because I guess he’s that beautiful) has approximately 100 cigarettes, which he certainly does not smoke, so he is hoarding them for some grand purpose?

when Mad Dog turned around I swear I saw muscles I didn’t know the human body possessed. I’m talking fresh-out-of-the-science-tube Steve Rogers

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Mad Dog’s impeccably maintained fade

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie has the right attitude about LBJ and Vietnam, except I think JFK got us into Vietnam, but then the Gulf of Tonkin was LBJ. I don’t want to google the Vietnam War. look, McNamara is a war criminal

Cheryl’s sheaths: I wish I had the energy to coordinate my bras with the rest of my aesthetic like Josie, in a leopard print, and Cheryl, in red lace. I will say I have recently discovered unlined bras and they have changed me for the better

do you think Archie + varsity football + theater extracurriculars = Cheryl + student body president + 4.0 GPA + theater extracurriculars?

Serpent with the General-style opthalmic frames and low-rise Chucks intrigues me

Joaquin does Archie so bad!!!!!!! even after he got the fucking tattoo, damn!

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Joaquin’s eyes are so crystal clear that I don’t think they have a color of their own. he’s wearing the optional grey shirt, so they look grey; if he wore the optional navy shirt (I can’t yet tell a difference in status) they would look blue

oh god, what is that Ghoulie doing at the fucking fence? is he slicing his fingertips for fun? what the fuck, the Ghoulies are so fucking bizarre

Archie calls Joaquin “bro” which means he is fucking serious

we all need to take a moment to ourselves to truly absorb the skull of Dr. Curdle’s son, who is also a corrupt coroner (his name tag says “Dr. Curdle Jr”). of the three most alien skulls so far, this is the most take-abacking (I HAVE seen every episode and my calculations are sound)

he’s really gonna let Dilton (RIP!!!!!) have his arm hang down off the table like that, in this, his final repose? cold

the almost ironic intonation of “signs….of stress….” as he pulls the sheet down is amazingly 50’s horror movie

“Runic, I’d say.”

mmmmmmmmmm Fresh-Aid! I listened to the Jonestown tape in an episode of Last Podcast and was well disturbed!!!!!

you tell me why Jughead is using the camera he used in the pilot instead of like, his phone camera: because Jughead?

because Jughead

Places Bughead are Fucking: coroner’s Office

I want one of these L & L shirts. I would prefer the navy version with the little sleeves

excuse me but one of these Ghoulies has an absolute 2008 sidebang

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: “DON’T TOUCH HIS FACE”

Veronica’s flower sweater

BEN BUTTON

Betty’s 70’s-collared Piet Mondrian shirt is super cute, although a white-backed women’s shirt with that thin Forever 21 fabric always fucks you if you have to wear a bra

the actress who plays Evelyn Evernever is named Zoé de Grand Maison and honestly I don’t know who has the better name

DOES KEVIN STILL WANT TO LOSE HIS VIRGINITY BY HALLOWEEN

if homecoming is in September or October, the schedule should be roughly 1) Archie gets out of juvie, followed by 2) Kevin loses his virginity with Moose

Gay.: Kevin’s kiss is VERY good and quite bold! for a hallway, and Moose’s twangy hair is nice

at my high school, everyone just said “rot-see” for ROTC, so surely these hip kids wouldn’t go around saying R-R-O-T-C like that, UNREALISTIC, RIVERDALE

the extremely tall gothy Vixen is even taller than the extremely tall Ghoulie and I would like to take her to homecoming

Summer + Blair = Veronica: “You’re acting like trash, and I don’t want to get a citation.”

what the hell does student body president even do? to the extent I can even recall our student body president, whose name I believe was Lauren, I think she read the afternoon announcements

Ben WAS the kid Kevin ordered that hot dog from during the James Dean closing night! (I’m not double-checking)

Ben WAS the kid Miss Grundy was ~grooming~ when she got merked!

Ben’s mom is such a boring white mom lady that she’s wearing a denim button-down with but a single flower appliqué

YOU KNOW I LOVED THAT BLAIR WITCH TWIG BABY

Officer Henderson WAS the cop who found the “HL” briefcase at the dead Serpent’s hotel room!

I looked into what starting a chapter of the Innocence Project entails for a “couple of minutes.” I assume Veronica is going to go with option one: nonprofit organization, “independently incorporated” with “its own governing board” and fundraising, as I would doubt Riverdale has a local law school or much of a public defender’s office, you know what I’m saying?

What damn high school in America: Veronica is wearing some high-waisted black slacks and quite the polka dot top, which may in fact simply be a bustier. I imagine Principal Weatherbee has battled so many times over the years with Cheryl, who is constantly toeing the line of what a 16-year-old can legally wear, that he has since given up entirely

Jughead crawling over the back of the couch and dangling the totem baby is such a throwback to Jughead crawling over the back of the diner booth and eating the whipped cream cherry that now they are simply teasing me with the grandeur of times gone by, like an Andy Williams Christmas song thrown up on 101.9 KINK

Ethel has on some sort of wicked pin but it’s not in focus!

Betty’s top is very cute, structured

everyone has their own “Yeah, I guess” face at “Dilton Doiley [RIP!!!!!!!] has a secret bunker in the woods?”

Jughead cooly threatens Ethel with quote-unquote telling the police; this of course calls back to Jughead threatening Dilton (RIP!!!!!) in the third episode with Sheriff Keller, but let me ask you this: if Betty & Jughead DID take Ethel to the sheriff, would Sheriff Minetta give a flying fuck? doesn’t he answer directly to Hiram on all things Jughead at this point? could Betty and Jughead POSSIBLY still imagine the cops will heed anything they bring them?

Sheriff Minetta: Jughead Jones now seems to be under the impression that a band of Riverdale High juniors are in an underground RPG cult that has led to a double-suicide

Hiram: Thank God

something about Jughead’s teensy Yes’m head nod is just enough like a chivalrous bow that I have thus taken the time to note how cute it is

Day Two Juvie Coif: visibly succumbing to stress, but with dignity; starting to feather

I don’t know anything about sneakers but I like Mad Dog’s hightops

the cinematography in Archie’s cell is great. I especially like the panning around Archie when he’s not even moving, just listening to Mad Dog talking about, “The moment you set foot in here,” etc.

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: FP AND ALICE BOOOOOIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!! missing is the implied scene where Alice called FP to “get over here” so they can “talk to our kids” “together”

50 Shades of Betty: Betty tries hard to communicate with only her left eyebrow, fails

am I imagining a callback to Alice assuming Jughead was the one who railroaded Betty into looking at Jason Blossom? Alice’s stance on Jughead is too exhausting to track

Alice is certainly wearing a sheer floral peasant blouse she would NOT have worn the previous two seasons, SUSPICIOUS

Places Bughead are Not Fucking: Betty’s room

Gay?!: Archie’s incredulous delight at Reggie having helped picked out his RHS-themed sneakers; the Bulldogs are all about that #threestripelife

Veronica was rich: “FRESH KICKS”

Moose is apparently a “straight beast,” if you will

one of these Serpents is holding two playing cards, just chilling and holding two playing cards. I hope his prison name is like SNAKE EYES or THE JOKER

that Ghoulie dude is so striking and elongated, I swear to God he looks like John Travolta in Grease. that undercut, the well-oiled curls on top? can he be Josie’s fall fling?

God bless jingle-jangle: can you DROP OUT of fourth grade? doesn’t the state come for you, what the fuck?

I unironically love Archie’s plan. I fucking love it

“YOU’VE NEVER KNOWN THE EPIC HIGHS AND LOWS”—ARCHIE—YOU’RE A FUCKING SAVANT

I’m looking for other good haircuts in the background. one dude has a solid Wakanda-era Bucky Barnes and there’re slicked up curls aplenty. this juvie is like a candy box

you know this bitch loves a rack focus, especially onto prison wardens

Please protect Betty: “It’s chamomile, Betty. Calm down.”

FREAKISHLY good micromoment of Alice just like wiping away an eyelash or something

aloud, with witnesses, I said “This is like when they first held hands, am I right?” and then Betty said the “kind of reminds me of when we first started dating,” just to prove to you I HAVE seen every episode

Betty calmly checking in with Jughead re: Satan’s Reindeer

he’s most certainly Ethel on stilts (I’m very bad at predicting), but I love the Gargoyle King. he’s just the right mix of she-puts-you-in-the-corner and herky-jerky T-Rex, plus she put paint on him or whatever, in case somebody put a flashlight beam on him? Ethel fucking Muggs or whoever

love the sexy noir diner lighting and I will die loving it

Jughead eats: a toothpick

Day Three Juvie Coif: back at it, flush with victory; firm and wavy

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: I do wish Cheryl were not so permanently a good guy. I wish she wanted to be Student Body President, all of a sudden, so badly that she was trying to keep Archie in juvie so he could never reclaim his throne, like if she were Scar

Kevin’s magenta polo has a subtle wave print

I hope the RROTC is somehow rotting from the inside, like the Adventure Scouts or Aquaholics

The female gaze: Archie’s cranking out push-ups and Mad Dog is doing tricep dips to warm up, for the game and “other business,” respectively. sometimes I like to do tricep dips too, usually for forty-five seconds while I’m waiting for the microwave to reheat my Kraft Thick N’ Creamy

Archie’s “What the hell are you to him?” is maybe his most astute query into something not being right that doesn’t include his remarkable quickness on the uptake of Jughead at the end of season one (I HAVE seen every episode)

These students are legally children: what the fuck did Mad Dog do that he’s been sentenced to like 25 years in prison? he’s a minor for God’s sake. get on this, Veronica

Places Bughead are Fucking: the fucking woods

catch me hightailing it the fuck out of there when Betty and Jughead do anything that even remotely resembles opening a circular hatch to ANYTHING out in a fucking forest clearing and peering down inside. BYE BITCHES YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN!!!!!

someone in the writer’s room at even only one point said the phrase “like in True Detective” while unspooling this yarn

Fifth period is AP English: I have to take Jughead’s word for it that there’re any bunkers in any Philip K. Dick novel

I am STILL salty that the Swords & Serpents thing IS NOT THE SAME THING as THIS RPG and that it was wholly abandoned. I can’t believe we’re not doing Jughead being sucked into the RPG cult and Betty have to haul him out SIMULTANEOUSLY with her mother being sucked into the postpartum cult and having to haul HER out

“He’s also featured prominently on this copper coin.”

y’all can just buy cyanide like that, in that glass growler? it has a “reliable prescription” sticker on it, WTF?

“Drink from the correct cup and ascend to the kingdom” is definitely ripped from one of the tracks on that Avenged Sevenfold album I bought at Borders freshman year

Jughead doubts it: “OR SOMETHING EVEN MORE INSIDIOUS”

I fucking knew that Adventure Scout was gonna be under that fucking cot but it still scared the crap out of me because The Haunting of Hill House exhausted my reserves

I’m going to come out and say that I’ve never cared for Charmed and I’m not watching the reboot. however I am exceedingly ready for Sabrina

“Princess Etheline”

guys, I found the “Jailhouse Rock” dance charming, especially the implication that the boys started the game up again in the middle to like, show off for the girls. am I getting soft in my old age?

Josie’s VERY bright blue eyeshadow

Cheryl’s hair: Cheryl had to have been influenced by the trend started pre-2012 in So You Think You Can Dance wherein dancers with very long hair just leave it down

Hiram…..Archie’s in jail. what else do you want? like, he’s IN JUVIE

am I out of my fucking mind or is Hiram wearing a pin that is PSYCHOTICALLY close to being the Hydra hydra?

Archie overtaking the first few guards with those slow-mo crosses until they finally beat him down by their sheer numbers was basically a scene from Spartacus: War of the Damned

Betty’s bug print is cute while being, subconsciously, slightly unsettling; this is true for Betty as a whole

Ethel’s mustard yellow cotton cardigan has some sort of flower print on its back? COOL

I would like to extend a hearty “fuck off with that for fucking me” to whoever blocked out seizing-Ethel whipping her arm up like that with her jacked hand JUST LIKE IN HEREDITARY. FUCK OFF!, and I mean it

“Damn good coffee”: Evelyn has just the sort of niche superpower I wish I could have: to fuck with other people’s social interactions from a casual remove

Jughead is remarkably polite with 911, much calmer than with the desk nurse after Fangs got shot (I HAVE seen every episode)

(Hereditary was much better than Hill House)

Best costume bit: Monica Posh is hot

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Kevin wants that dick SO BADLY that he has JOINED THE ARMY (or whatever)

how did Pop’s lighting manage to glide all the way over to L&L?

Day Four Juvie Coif: slept on but still truckin’

Archie can only be fucking imagining what is about to happen to him (Archie has definitely seen Fight Club, and Jughead had to explain how it was satire)

Certified pedigree: LEGENDARY SQUAD OF PARENTS!!!!!! Hermione’s getting the band back together à la It

Penelope Blossom has gone full Victorian goth in that floor-length lace Chicago black widow number

“At the mere mention of ‘blue lips,’” Jughead wrote, “a shiver frissoned around the room.”

you can tell Alice is in a hippie cult because not only is she wearing crystals but she has stopped wearing eye makeup (I could never be in this sort of cult because if I don’t smear kohl all over them I look like I have tiny eyes; I am sensitive about this)

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: the reveal of Ben in the window, bathed in the blue glow of Pop’s diner, was like, ~chills~

“You’ll fly too” is of course also It, which, FUCK OFF

NEXT WEEK: I could be very fucking wrong about this but FP has a tattoo on his left pec that may very well be of a jellybean