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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

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Picasso's Night

The previous post Adriana Arboleda brings you up to date with the analysis if you would like to go read it before you start reading this one :)

Now this day has been a pretty eventful one. For one: We witnessed Armando show contentment that morning when he saw Betty for the first time that day. Totally absorbed by her existence until Mario cleared his throat.

Armando screwed up big time when he made it seem and acted like spending some alone time with AA was a lot more important than Betty or the company. He yelled at her and said she got on his last nerve and since then Betty has been on a bad mood with Armando, who after Mario told him that Betty was jealous had a moment of realization and has been feeling pretty awful since then.

Interestingly enough as the night progressed and Betty was invited to the exhibition of Picasso's collection, Mario kept insisting that Armando go and speak with Betty since he was leaving to Miami the next day.

Though this time, unlike the last time he traveled, before Panama, Armando was a bit more hesitant to leave. It wasn't merely because of the new collection they were going to launch and it wasn't because of the state of company. Armando looked at Betty to see if he had any reason to stay, looking at his best friend for any excuse to stay.

After Marcela tells Betty to reserve two rooms at the same hotel they stayed last time and Mario agrees to them traveling he then starts to insist that Armando go speak to Betty and apologize for his behavior that day.

The one thing that Betty did begin to screw up on(aside from starting an affair with her hawt boss) is that now emotions begin to play a huge role, not in the personal part of her life but the professional.

Betty has always been good at maintaining a good separation of what is professional and what is personal(although most of the times when she didn't she was following Armando's lead or example) . At the start of their affair, the day after Armando kissed her for the first time, Betty stayed professional. Even afterwards, Betty stayed professional. When it has come to company time Betty has stayed professional except this time she didn't.

Her jealousy, her feelings took control of her, foretelling things to come, less than 24 hours away.

This also pushes Mario with this idea that Betty must be catered to by Armando in order to keep her under control, though Armando knows best and he knows Betty won't betray him, Mario keeps pushing this narrative and when Betty doesn't agree to it or deny she'll do it Mario understands this as her holding it over Armando's head because of what he did that day.

Writing this now has made me realize that that's the reason he wrote the letter to Armando, not as some stupid mistake or for Betty to find it, though that's a pretty good theory, is that he did it for Armando's sake. Here me out!

For one he truthfully believed that Armando would be stupid enough to screw up giving Betty her gifts and that it would ruin the relationship but the cruelty of this letter exceeded even his jokes behind closed doors, that Armando didn't find amusing anymore, even before he slept with Betty the first time. I'll explain this in the post regarding that fateful letter and from the point of view as a writer and why even that sequences of scenes was a bit choppy and had it's mistakes in execution.

Now here when Armando asks her if she will embellish the balance for him for the big board meeting she allows her anger and resentment to come above her labor obligations and she doesn't give him an answer, better yet she finds a way to ignore the subject. Yes you can argue that Betty was always motivated by her secret crush and her secret feelings for Armando to do all the things she did it in the past, like the first time she embellished the balance and while yes that is true. I have pointed out how Betty showed her love for Armando through her work. He had upset her as well in the past and she'd still do it because in the thick of it she couldn't see him fail when she had the "solution" in her hands but this time her feelings-though extremely valid since he did end up hurting her feelings not as his employee but as his girlfriend- come above everything because this time her ego, the one he was helping to build up, was crushed by the man himself and that is a mistake. Especially when it comes to something that doesn't only directly affect Armando but an entire enterprise where her friends happen to work in. This again foreshadows events to occur in less than 24 hours.

Later when he goes into her office to talk to her she tells him that she doesn't do that, but he interrupts her and tells her that he doesn't want to talk about that but that he wants to talk about Adriana and what happened in his office.

Again though Armando contradicts himself a lot when he is with Mario when we see him with Betty we know where the true nature of his worry or concern lies and it isn't the company but their relationship. The evidence in this is how he behaves when Mario brings up the company compared to his relationship with Betty.

After Betty leaves Mario explains why Betty was hurt and that he can't leave with Betty being hurt, angry, and resentful because she's got the company in her hands. Armando looks angry when Mario is explaining what his mistake translated to Betty. He's angry at himself, while Mario talks about the company Armando has his back to him, peaking outside of the blinds and then turns to him.

"What you're doing is throwing away all that work [we] put in the days before. You're practically telling her that the relationship is just a game. That for you the ninety sixties are a lot more important to you." Armando quickly looks at Mario when he says this, again he is maintaining himself composed and controlled with his emotions as his face doesn't give much of a reaction but the quick jerking of his eye sight allows us to know that this part, from all of what he has said, is a lot more important to him than the company, again because he trust Betty with it, and that he is more worried about the way he has offended Betty. "that this is made of paper and let me tell you something; an ugly wounded woman is more worse than a wounded tiger and that wound doesn't heal with pats on the back, no Sir."

This conversations motivates Armando, not to go talk with Betty since he already wanted to do that but to go searching for her so he could fix his mistake and clarify just how important she is to him.

At the exhibition Betty points out his needs with the models to which Armando tells her that she makes him feel like if he were some seggsually deprived man, which is true. This does make the assumption that Armando's conquests or what not where meant to be written as a borderline seggsual addiction behavior type of thing since she doesn't say "your infatuation, your affairs." she clearly says "your needs with the models".

The conversation here is important because it begins to open a can of warms. She tells him that he'd look good with her, that Adriana Arboleda and him would make a good pair. That their attractiveness complements each other.

"I understand asking for privacy for one thing only." We then see a frame of Armando(lol the painting behind him has to be comedic gold!) who glances away from her, lips with a slight frown but not tight or pursed, showing that he isn't mad or frustrated rather he is upset with himself. "You wanted to be alone with her. Besides I'm not asking for you to give me any explanations. At the end of it you are the president and I'm your assistant. Besides this all happened during work hours and since I've worked for you I perfectly know your needs with the models." She glances around and leaves as people get closer to them. Armando then goes after her.

Right now I'm going to admit that I was wrong, well somewhat. I wrote a post once saying that Betty was calling Armando Don instead of Sir as the relationship progressed but I was wrong. Betty uses the title of Sir as a term of respect for Armando. Even here when they've slept together and she's seen and felt the change of Armando towards her and their relationship she still calls him Sir or Don Armando, that doesn't change. However the somewhat mentioned does change when it comes to Armando. So I was wrong but towards who the theory fell upon. @el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle was right and there isn't much of an importance when it comes to Betty and what she calls Armando. HOWEVER let me preference this that the person I was pointing this theory towards was my bad however the theory of changing names or titles is correct.

If you've read my untitled post regarding my OC and her relationship and how that helped me realize how I wasn't sympathizing with Marcela and that not only was A+M relationship toxic but as well as dependent than I gave you some glimpse into my original writing and how that process helped me be able to understand this part of their relationship and now that this is out of the way, let me tell you why these last two paragraphs are here.

My OC has a habit of never remembering peoples names on purpose, she does it as a power move. As if saying "You're not that important for me to remember your name." she does it especially to annoy people. Also because she's distracted half the time judging a person when they're first introducing themselves. Armando does something similar with Betty on her first days or weeks at Eco Moda.

Men tend to ignore women who they aren't attracted to. Armando did this to Betty. On a professional level he didn't ignore her but as a woman he did. We knows this because it was clearly presented this way at the start of the novela. However I really made my self take notice of this when I re-watched the first half of the novela(I haven't seen the ending bc I tend to avoid things that I cannot control or expect).

My OC is introduced to a guy who she can't stand and at first she calls him all sorts of names starting with the letter 'C' until she managed to remember his last name and calls him that for the remaining of the beginning of the story until they become friends, she switches between Caleb and Anderson, often times calling him by his name when they are having friendly conversation. When they become good friends and establish their friendship he no longer is just Anderson to her but Caleb, someone worth remembering. This is a small detail that I thought would allow the reader to determine the change of tonality between these two characters and their relationships and honestly one of my favorite details to write so when I first noticed this, I got too excited and projected it onto Betty when in reality it was Armando.

Now that I've spoiled my own writing(that I'll most likely never publish) let me explain why I bring this up, finally.

Armando called Betty at the start of the novela "Emperatriz". Once they became more familiar and Betty corrected him and told him he could call her Betty, he finally remembered her name. It's important to note this small detail because just like I intended to write it, so did Fernando Gaitan(I'm assuming lol). He did know her name but he didn't care to register it. Marcela called her Beatriz in front of him, Mario called her by her name, everyone did except for him, and she[Marcela] got upset at him when she heard him call her Betty because in her[Morch] eyes that was a cute nick name to have for an employee, especially for an "ugly" secretary. Now the switch between Betty and Beatriz did happen before the affair started, however the switch was a little bit more noticeable as Armando began to blur the lines of personal and impersonal.

In this scene though and the scenes before this, whenever emotions were heavily involved, especially when it was regarding their relationship Armando calls Betty, Beatriz, in fact even when she wasn't present in the room and he'd talk to Mario about his feelings and why he felt guilty(before he'd shut off this part of him bc Mario would start making jokes) Armando referred to Betty as Beatriz and not Betty but when it came to talking about her as an employee and not a woman he'd refer to her as Betty, it happens this day as well. When he gets upset that she won't let him spend alone time with AA and he yells at her and calls her Betty.

Why am I bringing up this small detail in this post? In this scene and the scene in Mario's apartment this is very evident and signifies the growth of his feelings and his conscious commitment to Betty as a woman.

Finally, after a bit of arguing inside the museum they leave together, of course, after sneaking out because Marcela went to the museum trying to catch him.

It's also important to note that when they found out Morch was in the museum that Betty asked Armando if he had anything to drink. It's pretty standard for him to be drinking, tipsy, or even drunk when he goes out with Betty. The one time I can remember him being completely sober was when he had to confess his feelings for her, soberly, the day after he kissed her for the first time. I broke that down in another post :)

Other times while he hasn't been drunk or tipsy he has had a few drinks at the office, however again it's pretty standard for him to drink and she knows this but why is it something that is brought up here?

Betty attributes Armando's behavior, especially when he is this...stubborn in doing things that could expose their relationship when he has been drinking. Not only that but also because the night they first hooked up they both had been heavily drinking, especially Armando and it is important as the continuation of the night leads us to Mario's apartment.

Outside, in his car, Armando finally gets to clarify his actions as he apologizes and tells her that he only wants her to know that she's more important to him than any other woman and he isn't shy to name the woman as he says: "than Adriana Arboleda, than Marcela or any other woman." This sounds a bit rehearsed but not like the previous times where we can even notice in his tone of voice and his micro expressions that he does so for manipulation. A great scene to use as a contrast to this attitude of his in this scene is the one where he makes out with Betty, the night he fights Roman and Co(wrote a post about it too). This lets us know that he really did think about how to apologize to her. While here his tone is rehearsed his micro expressions aren't a show, in reality his behavior is natural and goes along with what he is saying.

Now Betty in a teasing tone replies to him saying "That's not true." (also because she doesn't believe him)and Armando in a very serious tone and even a seductive tone, gazing his eyes down her body and back to her lips tells her that of course it's true and leans in, placing his hand on her face and they start to kiss.

This shows us that Armando once again isn't only feeling his emotional attraction to Betty, which is what moved his physical attraction forward in the past but now he can tell the difference between these two and he is okay with them! This is a huge step for Armando because he no longer is denying these things from himself. In fact he encourages himself and Betty to have these desires for one another and that as the days progress since their first sinful night his desire for Betty only continues to increase.

When they pull away his phone starts to ring, Betty asks if it's Marcela and Armando's facial expression and tone tells us it is as he looks annoyed and pissed that she's calling him.

This reaction is also standard for him because it's the exact same expression he pulls every time Marcela calls him. Especially when he's with Betty. However this small detail we've been given through the past episodes and this night also hold much significance in future episodes when his reaction to her call no longer is standard behavior from him.

While at the start of this phone call his tone is very forced in "lovingly" speaking to Marcela, his micro expressions again show us that he is just pretending. This tone is one we've heard a bunch of times before and it's one that is solely reserved for Marcela. Even on her part she tries to speak "politely" and just as if she were simply calling because she was curious but as this conversation goes both their dances of trying to keep things peaceful and civil subside and they basically start a mosh pit where they become more hostile until Armando implodes on her.

Marcela in a her standard of questionnaire routine asks Armando who he's with, hesitant he admits he's with Betty.

Her reaction to this however isn't standard of just guilt, taking into consideration the events of the day and that even Armando has told her that Marcela stops nagging him when she knows he's with her and because she's also eavesdropped and heard Armando say that Marcela doesn't consider her as a femininely threat, much less a woman, she once again gets hurt.

One could assume Armando did this to cover his tracks in case anyone told Marcela that they saw them leave together. It's also not hard to believe that Armando is stupid and says things without thinking them through in the heat of the moment however what is more obvious is that he probably wanted to take Marcela off his back so he tells her that he's with Betty. The small pause he takes before he says this helps me determine this. It could also be that he did so in case anyone did tell Marcela he left with Betty.

As Armando implodes on Marcela for insinuating that he lied to her i.e that he's going to go off with his mistress, Betty shifts in her seat and then she looks uncomfortable, returning to her guilt.

In this scene Betty experiences first hand this toxic side of Armando, one she has seen as a boss to employee scenario but not as a significant other. She has heard and even been in the middle of their fights in the past and while even then she behaved professionally, and also guilty this time she shows a lot more emotions raging from being uncomfortable to even being upset with Armando. This however is a small taste to what she will experience first hand not as the bystander of this side of his but as the target of his toxic behavior.

Later in the car, as he drives, Betty, with a broken heart tells Armando she believes that he should go on his trip and try to reconcile his relationship with Marcela and reconnect while they're away.

Armando, nervous and scared asks her if that's what she really wants and the hurt that it might be, he asks(really demands) for her to look him in the eyes and tell him this. Which Betty doesn't. In this moment his phone rings.

Why do these small details play such a huge role?

Less than 24 hours away, Betty finds the letter which plays the exact rhythm in which Armando and Mario planned her downfall.

For one: While in the past Betty agreed to embellish the balance for the meeting, this night she did not and because of this Armando went out to look for her at the exhibit and then took her to his best friends bach pad and slept with her all so she would embellish that balance which would keep the board members at peace allowing Armando to continue as the president of Eco Moda.

Two: That Mario called him this night, while they were together, and while Armando "played" it off that Mario wasn't aware of their affair, when she later questioned him about it and he denied it, these conversations begin to makes sense to her.

We know that's not the case. While Mario spoke about the company Armando didn't seem that concerned or even motivated to go searching for her but it wasn't until Mario mentioned how sever it was what that he implied to Betty that AA was more important to him than her[Betty] and what that meant for their relationship and how she was suffering because of it that he was motivated to search for her as he said, a terrible fear was settling in him because of it. While yes, Mario suggested that they hook up so she could be happy again and forgive him and that way the company would still be in their hands and not Nicolas, Armando didn't need any motivation for that.

In fact he hasn't needed any inspiration or motivation sober or drunk to desire Betty, often not being able to stop himself from kissing her and more. Was this based on Mario telling him to do this?

No.

It wasn't because Mario suggested it(At the office). Unlike their first night where Armando kept calling Mario and kept asking for help and advice, this time Armando gets annoyed at Mario for calling him. Even his behavior is different. While before when Mario kept insisting that he slept with Betty to get it over with, Armando showed disgust or being repugnant to doing an atrocity of that magnitude towards Betty, this time his face was poker. He showed no real disgust towards the idea of seducing Betty as in he'd sleep with her, more that Mario yet again was using something he knew was important and special to the both of them[B+A] as a weapon for the "good" of the company.

When he hangs up his phone Betty points out that the direction he's driving isn't towards her house, to which Armando tells her if she really wants to go home.

"I think it's for the best." He turns to stare at her and then pulls to the side of the road.

"That you want me to take you home?" He asks in disbelief. Betty swallows hard, the corner of her mouth look a bit downward and she looks scared. "Damnit!" He hits his steering wheel and though he is angry, his tone is completely different to that of his tone when he is angry at Marcela. "Damnit, Beatriz, all I want is to be with you tonight, I leave tomorrow, remember? I went to the museum, exclusively, to pick you up, to see you, to feel you next to me, to be with you. When we bumped into Marcela I risked my life and I am still risking it to this moment. Everything I've done is to tell you that I adore you, that you're above Adriana Arboleda, that you're above Marcela, of-of all of them!" We can determine he is honest here as he stares at her, exclusively even when she doesn't stare back at him, she looks pained and confused herself. "and the only thing you can tell me is that you want me to go to Palm Beach(I LOVE the way he says Palm Beach it's just ugh so nice) and have a marvelous honeymoon with her so that we can grow closer." He looks down, away from her and then ahead of him. His voice was no longer harsh at the end more so becoming almost a whisper. "That's what you want? Okay! Right now I'll drive you to your house because it's what you're asking from me. I don't deserve this." (BAWHAHAHA ARMANI YES YOU DO, MY BOY).

Now in a non-contextual way one could simply asume that he is doing this all under the bias of manipulation towards Betty, especially that final line of "I don't deserve this." but when you take all the context clues and you look at the bigger picture there's more that plays in here and I'm not saying that Armando isn't manipulating Betty in this exact scene, he is very much doing so, however it isn't like in the past. This time he does so to get what he wants, which is to spend the night with Betty so he guilts her with this final part of "I don't deserve this- because I've risked so much to spend this night with you."

However taking aside that guilt trip manipulation, why does Armando stumble once in his words showing he isn't rehashing this previous speech? and why does he take a breather before he tells Betty that he'll drop her off at her house like she asked?

While the first apology was what he rehearsed with himself, this second time around it took him by surprise to admit that she was above all the other women because this apology wasn't based on a "lets just make up right now." it was an apology based in heart and the self-realization of how true that statement was for him that while yes Betty was above Adriana Arboleda in her significance to him and even Marcela who he's engaged to, she is now also above all women.

How true is this statement?

Well we see a change of behavior of his with women in the future episodes which proves, yet again, that this confession of his wasn't just an apology so Betty could forgive him, but an apology that was sincere and heart felt.

Betty finally gives in and tells him to wait. With tears coating her lashes she stares at him "Sir, forgive me." She speaks solemnly. Armando's entire body relaxes just a bit as he sits back on his seat. "Sir, forgive me. I want you to understand that-that this hasn't been easy for me. [The situation] with Adriana Arboleda and now the conflict with Ms. Marcela; it's killing me, Sir." His anger and hurt begins to simmer down. "I don't know what to do, how to behave. I-I think I'm acting very bad." She looks away from him, touches the side of her face in a worried and embarrassed manor while Armando stares at her and timidly(in his nature) asks her what truly worry's him.

"But do you want to be with me?"

"Yes, of course, of course. It's what I want most." She caresses the side of his face, he leans towards her hand "in the world." and now he looks like he's come back to life. Staring at her with a soft glow and when she pulls her hand down he looks at it and follows it until he stares back at her, feeling the absences of her touch and missing it. "But you leave tomorrow." They both look away from each other but Armando only does so for a micro second before he stares back at her. "and I won't be complete without you, Sir." Again we get a frame of Armando's reaction to this. "Not being by your side will not be any easier for me." As she speaks her tone is soft, timid however not wavering showing that while she is nervous to confess this to him, she isn't scared of doing so.

"Betty." He says so adoringly towards her. "Betty" he whispers and touches her face and honestly I believe his favorite part of Betty's face is the side of her face, by her earlobe cause he's always touching her there. "Nobody said this would be easy. We knew this road was going to be a difficult one but you know what? I am going to be missing you so much. I'm going to miss you a lot."

Again the words here are lost in translation he tells her "Usted me va a hacer muchísima falta." which roughly is saying that there will be a huge lack of her in him, causing him to yarn for her a lot and feeling that absences of hers will make him miss her in a very profound way because he needs her. This separation they're both fearful of is what brings the forgiveness to shore.

Now the post for that specific scene will need an entire post dedicated to it because there's so much! Just so much.

For this episode I had to watch it on the NBC app so maybe there was some scenes missing.

I don't know if anyone noticed how important the story of Picasso and his lovers was for this and how they showed the similarities to Armando and his lovers, specifically how toxic Picasso was(all though if we're being honest that dood sounds more abusive than just toxic bc we all got a lil toxicity in our system but that foo was straight up kidnapping his lovers and locking them up while he had other's on the side? Nah man call a hotline.) towards his lovers. Though I am not saying that Armando is a saint, I don't think he is as bad as Picasso, that dood needed a restraining order against him so he could just stay away from all women.

In all seriousness though the similarity was that though Picasso had lovers he cared for each of them especially his last two lovers, i.e Betty and Marcela and it foreshadowed just how jealous and pathetic Armando would become in the future.

I mean I love Armando, I had to learn to love him bc at first I didn't, but the behavior he displays in the future episodes while yeah one could explain them are not justifiable and I will get into detail on that in the future posts and the post I am still writing regarding his abusive/toxic tendencies.

Overall this episode, which on NBC is episode 68, was pretty straightforward with a lot of small details to look at and not really for the leading on of the scenes in Mario's apartment but overall where the story continues to get pushed.

In this episode, the episode when Armando fights Roman and Co. and her birthday night celebration and the previous night of this episode are nights that Betty goes back to prove that what she reads in that letter are true, especially this night, before they got to the apartment and just how much Armando "risked" to spend that night with her.

While she tries to believe that it's all a joke because she's certain that Armando was honest and heartfelt with her through his actions and not words, she doesn't trust him. I'll explain that a lot more further in that post.

Pushing forward the plot of the story though we see just how these two have truthfully grown close together and not just as friends but as lovers who are exploring their feelings a lot more now and while Betty is learning to open herself up again, Armando is learning to love for the first time.

I say that Betty is learning to open herself up again because it's true. While in the past she asked Armando why he was interested in her, she shared poetic talk about how the moon inspired poets and how guilty she felt when she saw Marcela, she hadn't opened herself up, not until the night at the hotel and that wasn't much, she barely opened up when Armando was asking her about her first time. This night she was a lot more open. She called out Armando's behavior point blank and period, no hesitation, she spoke about her opinion and then she spoke about how she felt, not regarding her insecurity but regarding their relationship and the absences she'd feel from Armando not being there. While before she'd just say "I need you." or "You mean a lot to me." this time she goes on to further explain her feelings to Armando instead of just saying the words, this time she elaborates.

Armando is learning to love for the first time, being humble in realizing his mistakes, his limits and also understanding just how his actions affect others but the most important thing is that he is learning to be at peace with his feelings for Betty. We saw it that morning when he first saw Betty, later in the office when Betty caught him making out with the AA picture and just how guilty and embarrassed he felt because Betty saw him. Unlike with Marcela where he was scared that she'd cause a while scene, this time the problem for him was that Betty wouldn't cause a scene but be hurt and dump him for it, which would be a big deal for him. We saw it later when Betty forgave him after the letter and gift and when he realized the huge mistake he made with AA in the way he treated Betty. All of these behaviors has shown an Armando who has accepted that he cares for Betty, not love, but cares for her deeply and that she is important to him.

Thank you for being patient with me and sorry that I haven't been as active. These past days have been pretty busy and they'll continue being so. I'll probably only be able to post once a week but I hope that the post become better quality that way as well since I'll have more time to really break down the episodes.

Well 'til next time! :)

#betty la fea #betty pinzón solano #beatriz pinzón solano #beatriz pinzon solano #betty ysblf #armando ysblf #don armando #armando mendoza #analysis of ysblf #ysblf #mario calderon

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bireggiemantle · 3 years

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hey guys :) so I wrote a little jarchie drabble (that turned out to be longer than I expected lmaoo) about them moving in together in early season 5

The keys feel heavy in his hand, and he's all too aware of their presence there. Archie's out with Eric, so it's Jughead's first time coming here alone. He's hesitant to call it his home, but for now it's kind of all he has.

He does his best to keep his eyes focused on the door as he approaches the house and inserts the key, ignoring the imposing presence of Betty's house next door. It's hard enough facing Archie again, let alone Betty.

The door creaks open impossibly slowly, and Jughead is careful to be quiet as he steps inside. He doesn't want to be loud, too bold, too obvious, because even though he's alone here, this isn't his space.

There's a guest bedroom upstairs that Jughead's been keeping his stuff in, sharing the closet with Eric while crashing on the couch. It's a temporary solution, at least until they're both back on their feet, but it's still annoying.

Jughead starts to make his way up the stairs, running his fingers along the banister as he walks. The tip of his pinky catches on a stray piece of wood about three steps up. He remembers snagging it with his palm at fourteen, Archie stabbing him with tweezers as he tried to take the splinter out.

This time Jughead withdraws his hand before the wood can find a home in his skin, placing it back into his pocket.

It feels strange being back here. The house looks more or less the same, with the walls still painted the same color and the furniture still arranged the same way, but the details are off. There are paintings hanging up that Jughead doesn't recognize, books sitting on the coffee table that he hasn't had a chance to memorize, and photographs scattered throughout that he's never seen before.

In a way, he still feels welcome here; Archie didn't hesitate to let him in with open arms afterall, but there's also a part of him that seems out of place. He no longer knows Archie's house like the back of his hand. He no longer spends every waking moment here, creating a space for himself in the pictures on the wall and the jackets he's forgotten in Archie's bedroom. It's been seven years since he's even been inside this place, and the time spent away hurts.

There's a few rolled up posters in his bag, and while he knows Archie wouldn't object to hanging them up, something about the action seems wrong. It'd be overstepping, reinserting himself into a space where he isn't as welcome as he used to be. If Archie wanted to remain best friends, he would've called him more than twice after graduation.

The first time was probably an accident anyway. About five years ago Archie had called him in the middle of the night and Jughead, more than a little warm and tipsy, didn't hesitate to answer.

He doesn't remember much of the conversation now, but he does remember that Archie sounded upset, his voice muffled and unsteady in the way it always was when something was up.

Jughead stops at the top of his stairs, groaning as leans his head against the wall and runs his hands down his face.

What's he even doing here in the first place? He's got deadlines creeping up on him, debts hanging over his head, and rent due on the apartment him and Jessica possibly still share, but he's thrown it all away to come back to Riverdale because he couldn't resist Archie's plea.

He's always been a little stupid when it comes to Archie.

He debated texting Betty after he got the call, wanting to ask if Archie reached out to her too, but after retyping the question a couple of times he ultimately deleted the message and turned off his phone.

The actual act of coming back to Riverdale wasn't very hard; Jughead only had two bags to pack and a very small list of "goodbyes" to say, but the emotional toll of returning was intense. The town seemed to loom over him, awaiting his arrival with dark eyes and a crooked smile.

Jughead presses his back flush against the wall and slides to the ground, bringing his knees tight against his chest.

He says nothing, simply sitting there, his gaze fixated on the doorknob across from him.

Riverdale isn't all bad. There's good memories here, buried deep underneath the bad ones, and there's always a chance to try again now, to make his image of Riverdale more positive than it was before.

His friendship with Archie is slowly mending itself, he's becoming closer and closer with Tabitha, and he has a couple of mostly stable jobs under his belt, so he might as well be optimistic about things.

Jughead goes to bury his face back into his hands when he hears the door open loudly, sending him into a frenzy to stand.

He smoothes his sweater and rushes to tuck his bag into the corner of the closet before making his way back downstairs.

Archie is sitting in the kitchen, two milkshakes in his hands, and his face lights up as he notices Jughead walk towards him.

"Eric and I wanted to get lunch, and I know how much you like Pop's, so I thought I should bring you a shake."

Archie slides one of the cups across the table, inviting Jughead to take a seat beside him. He obliges, taking a sip.

"Thanks, Arch."

"Anytime."

A silence settles into the air between them, thick and tense. As always, Archie is the one to break it.

"Sorry I haven't been home much lately. I didn't think I'd be so busy lately."

"It's fine. It's not like I need a babysitter."

Archie laughs. "If anything you'd be babysitting me."

"Haven't I always?"

The conversation continues on, switching from discussions of schoolwork to fond memories to a new video game Archie's managed to get his hands on. The topics are a little boring, but they're safe, and it's so much easier than dwelling on the actual issues they've been facing.

At some point the two of them find themselves moving over to the couch, with Archie throwing his arm over the back and Jughead curling up against the armrest. They've been in this position a million times before, together on the same couch, empty milkshake cups resting on the table beside them. It feels like he belongs here in this moment, like the house has finally started making space for him again for the first time since senior year.

Maybe it's the familiarity of the situation, or maybe it's the newfound confidence he has as an adult (however slight it may be), but Jughead finds himself closing his eyes and giving in to it all, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Archie's.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, and Jughead thinks he might be shaking as he initiates it.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" He feels his cheeks flush bright red as he pulls away, guilt seeping in and the dreamy haze slips away.

Archie places a hand on top of his. "Hey, it's okay." he pauses, squeezing Jughead's fingers underneath his own. "I wouldn't say no if you wanted to try that again."

"You're serious?"

Archie nods.

Jughead lets his free hand wrap itself around Archie's jawline, his thumb resting inches from the corner of his lips.

"You're absolutely sure?"

Archie smiles. "Yeah, Jug, I'm sure."

"Okay. Okay, cool." Jughead leans forward, hovering closer to him for a few moments before taking a deep breath and sealing the deal.

He feels Archie's fingers twist into his hair, holding them together. There's a hint of desperation in the kiss, a suffocating feeling of inevitably, and Jughead's clutching onto Archie so tightly he's afraid he might be leaving marks.

Archie's smiling when they part, wide and lopsided, his eyes soft and half-shut.

"Maybe I should start spending more time at home if this is how it's gonna be."

"Shut up." Jughead says, swatting his arm lightly, but leaning back in for another kiss.

He moves his stuff from the spare closet to Archie's room within a few days worth of Archie's pleading, and by next month there's at least five of his posters on the living room walls.

#i have zero restraint w anything at al #all*#this isnt that good but i havent rly written in a while n my mental health is eh atm so bear w me here yall #riverdale #jughead jones #archie andrews #jarchie #fanfic #fanfiction

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female-buckets · 3 years

Text

This is a women's basketball blog. A WBBB. So basketball is one priority of this blog. And women's sports is another priority.

I think women's sports are a good thing. Surprise! lol

We need women's sports because sports are not just about sports. They're about all of the rest of us too. We grow up with sports heroes even if we never plan on getting anywhere near a D3 roster. We're all doing our own things, but we're all inspired by these athletes. A lot of the insight they share with us is universal. It's good stuff.

And it's really good stuff if we're lucky enough to grow up with female sports heroes. I'm one of the lucky ones. I grew up with the 2003-2006 Seattle Storm. I saw them win their first championship live. I had LJ and Sue and Betty Lennox and Vodichkova. But LJ and Sue... I took a special shine to them. I knew I could never be LJ, but maybe I could be Sue. I had Sue's jersey and matching Storm shorts and a Storm scrunchy. I wore a ponytail every day. I wanted to be a WNBA player. I played girls' rec league from age 8 to 11. Over my three year career I scored 6 points, had about 20 shot attempts, and had at least 200 steals. And I had the time of my life. But there was no middle school girls' JV squad so that ended my basketball career. By that age, I understood that I wasn't going to the WNBA. I just wanted to keep having fun.

But now I'm seeing people argue that separate women's and men's sport categories only matter at the elite competitive level. At lower levels, sports should be integrated because that is the most inclusive solution.

Well. That's clearly bullshit.

My middle school did have a boys JV basketball squad. Just no JV squad for girls. I could've tried out for the boys JV. But I'm sure it would've been the same result as my girls' varsity tryout. I was not one of the top 12 female basketball players at my middle school. And I was not better than the top 24 male basketball players at my middle school. But I knew these guys. They were good guys and we'd play 3x3 during lunch. I actually improved a lot the summer before 6th grade. Like, I could actually shoot! I knew there was just that one varsity team and I knew it would be hard to make it. But I thought... maybe if I work hard? So I worked hard over the summer. I entered sixth grade as like the 15th ranked female basketball player at my middle school. Close! Anyway, they only had one spot open on the girls' varsity team and the 5'10" girl got it.

I ended up doing JV soccer instead. Most of the JV soccer team was girls like me who wanted to play basketball. We could've gathered a few more girls and demanded our Title IX right to JV basketball. The boys had one so legally the school was obligated to provide one for us. But we were 11 year olds who didn't know anything about Title IX or demanding things from adults. So that was that. I had fun in soccer. But at that point, I'd been obsessed with basketball for a quarter of my lifetime. Soccer wasn't the game I wanted to play.

Half the girls in varsity basketball played on the same AAU team. So they had some real basketball going on. If there was a JV team, we could've learned a lot from them. And once the AAU girls graduated, we could've filled in and ensured the longevity of the school team. A year after the season I tried out, the AAU girls graduated and the coach moved to a different town. The varsity basketball team died and was replaced with volleyball. Then the soccer team dropped JV. So by 8th grade, there were only two girls' sports teams at my middle school. Varsity volleyball and varsity soccer. Sports kept failing me while my male peers had every opportunity available to them.

The marginalization of women in sports does not start at the elite competitive level. It starts with institutions neglecting to provide opportunities for girls to safely explore the sports they want to play. If you integrate girls and boys sports opportunities, you exclude girls from exploring sports.

But if I was playing 3x3 at lunch with boys, then what's the problem with integrated youth basketball? The problem is I was getting beat up. They weren't trying to beat me up. They were just stronger than me. I still had fun playing with them. I was born a scrappy aggressive crazy physical defender. They liked playing with me because I kept them on their toes. But ultimately, it wasn't very safe. There was no mean-spirited contact. Just the natural collisions that happen in basketball. I prided myself on my aggressive defense and I never backed down from collisions. But those collisions with the boys hit different. A few of them were pretty bad. And the boys involved in those bad collisions felt terrible.

It didn't make me want to play casual 3x3 lunch ball with girls. It just gave me personal data confirming that seriously competing with boys was not the safest. The safest place for me to compete in full-contact 100% effort 5x5 was a girls' basketball team. But instead I had to jog around the soccer field while varsity girls' basketball evaporated.

There is no WNBA without girls' 8 year old rec leagues and middle school girls' JV. It's all connected. A web of women and girls' at every level competing safely against each other in a full-contact sport. That's how sports work.

Providing team sports for girls is extremely important for social development, self-confidence, leadership skills, and interpersonal skills.

If you think society benefits more from removing these opportunities than providing them, don't call yourself a women's sports fan.

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stxrvel · 3 years

Text

cowboy like me

summary: a bad day for Bucky, a splendid week for the woman. mixed feelings and memories of a stormy past prevent Bucky from giving voice to his true feelings. (I'm really sorry I'm so bad at summary's)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k or so.

warnings: poor bucky letting his feelings get the better of him and saying mean things from time to time, sorry bout that. oh, and I wrote this in the third person, I don't know if that's a warning but still. and last but not least, English is not my native language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.

also, the title of this and the part of the song quoted below only inspired the setting of this one-shot. the "plot" is independent of the theme song. I just have a bunch of taylor's songs that inspires me scenarios like this with independent plots, it's like a hobby. and ALSO, this is my first fic in here, and I really hope to do more parts in the future, especially when this semester is over. so, I hope you like it!

you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars hustling for the good life

It had not rained like this for quite some time. Lightning echoed in every part of the city and the drops were crashing against the window glass with the speed of a Maserati on a winding road; the sky was dark even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Inside the room, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable, one of the reasons she stopped by at least five times a week. However, a few minutes before the downpour began, the whole atmosphere had turned so grey that for a moment it seemed as if the clouds were bringing a bad omen...

But no, it was only him.

The man who always sat next to her in the cafeteria to use one of the computers that the café provided as a service.

Besides the sound of the bell above the door and his soaked boots, it was his exasperated sigh that caught her attention before she looked away from her laptop screen.

His hair fell over his forehead with a few raindrops slipping from his forehead and temples, until they were lost under his jawline and mingling in the cotton of his shirt. The frown he kept on his face did not disappear as he tried, very unsuccessfully, to dry his clothes by shaking them slightly.

He would definitely do anything to keep that leather jacket and gloves on.

The smell of coffee and the hustle and bustle of the room contrasted with the calm but resignedly helpless attitude of the man who was running his hands heavily over his trousers as if they were a portable hairdryer.

Michael, one of the waiters who occasionally gave them ham and cheese croissants on Saturdays when they were both there, approached the sulking man and, seconds later, they both disappeared into the kitchen behind the till.

The screen of her mobile phone lit up as she tried to refocus on the reading she had to do.

Betty: I still don't understand how not wanting to visit your abusive dad in hospital is an important topic of conversation in a counselling session. I mean, the words abusive father say it all.

Tell me you're on my side.

Me: I still think you should change your psychologist.

Betty: I know! But at that clinic it's 30% cheaper than getting a private one. But, I already have a solution, next week I'll...

The squeak of the chair next to her being dragged startled her and her mobile phone almost flew out of her hands. The grumpy man, now a little drier, dropped the weight of his giant body on the poor chair so that it squeaked as if complaining about the man's rudeness. He stared at the computer screen on as if it held the solution to all his problems.

“Bad day?”

“Just an unfortunate string of inconveniences since I opened my eyes this morning,” he commented seriously and gravely as he began to move his hands over the keyboard. He hadn't looked at her when he spoke, which was not unusual, but at the moment it felt inappropriate, “Nothing I'm not used to.”

The woman turned her head to look at the twenty-seven pages she still had to read, and it seemed too tedious a thing to spend her time on now that Bucky had arrived.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I'm going to apply for a job at a daycare, maybe I could start practicing with you.”

Bucky faked a laugh, rather bitter and strained the kind she was used to hearing, “Very funny,” he said, his gaze dark and fixed on the screen.

“Sometimes you laugh at my jokes.”

“When they're funny,” he blurted out as soon as she finished speaking, instantly regretting it but not showing it in his body language.

“Hey! Don't hurt my feelings like that. What happened with your therapist? If you want to talk about it, sure.”

She watched his body tense and how he made no attempt to hide the bitter expression on his face as soon as the word "therapist" left her mouth. The woman thought she'd made a poor choice of words, yet Bucky felt unsettled by how strangely easily she seemed to be able to read his attitudes. Since when had she started doing such things? Had she always been that way? Had he let his guard down that much these past few weeks?

“Just... trouble, in general,” he pronounced her name with feigned gentleness, sending a shiver down her spine. Had he noticed by now? So soon? She thought, hastily.

“Okay,” she mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her mind worked at full speed, “I understand if you don't want to talk about it.”

No, he couldn't have noticed. Regardless of how damaged and broken she was inside, she knew that wasn't something Bucky paid the most detailed attention to. And, even if that were the case, there wasn't a person on the planet who knew her better than he did at this point, so if he wanted to walk away and leave her to not deal with her problems and constant chatter, he would have done so long ago.

Bucky sighed deeply, the movement of his chest aching from the lump in his throat. His hands moved on automatic over the keyboard, digging into things he already knew, spending the time just trying to divert the train of thought that wouldn't leave him alone. Anyway, is it really so bad for someone to know me like that? He thought, as the woman returned to her reading, it's not bad to be vulnerable once in a while, she's not going to hurt me. I know, I know.

Then why does it scare me so much?

His hands clasped as a third presence appeared between them. Michael, with a giant grin on his face, set two medium-sized cups of coffee on the small table they shared in front of the window. The woman's, with milk and sweetened with vanilla, as she always asked for. Bucky's, black, plain and cold, the way he always drank it.

The girl sitting next to him and the barista shared a couple of words in a conversation that seemed to be too funny, because she kept laughing. Why did he find her laughter annoying? Was it because it was too loud, or because it sounded too high-pitched unlike her normal laughter? When she laughed with Bucky, her tone was softer, gravelly, delicate and jovial. He couldn't describe the sensation that burned in his chest every time her eyes narrowed at her smile, or every time she brought her right hand to her chest, over her heart, as if she couldn't bear to laugh anymore, but at the same time holding back the pain in her cheeks so she wouldn't stop.

Michael didn't get that. No, he wasn't getting what Bucky was.

“Bucky?”

Her chuckling voice disconnected him from the bizarre conjectures in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her. She was looking at him with a rueful smile and her cheeks were too flushed.

“Are you all right?”

The aforementioned reveled in the sight that was plastered in front of him, with her sparkling eyes and the way her lips curved, before replying, “Yeah, all good.”

When he noticed Michael was still there, his shoulders tensed and quickly his gaze refocused on the sea of words displayed on the screen in front of him.

“You're too stiff,” he heard the woman's voice again a few seconds later, “Are you sure you don't want to do something to distract yourself? There are a lot of things coming to mind right now.”

Bucky turned to look at her with a frown.

“What things?”

“Um, last week you told me you've never played twenty questions before.”

The man arched an eyebrow, intrigued by how his mind played him, but quickly replied, “Do I look like the kind of person who plays the twenty questions?”

“Not really, but that day you told me you were willing to try it if I played it with you.”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds.

“I don't remember saying that.”

“Sometimes you don't remember a lot of things for convenience, Barnes,” she teased innocently, but Bucky knew what that meant: you're always evading me when I'm trying to help you.

And well, it was true.

“I imagine you don't remember Sam's invitation to you three days ago either.”

“What invitation?” he played distracted, as he pretended to vehemently read what he'd Googled.

“He asked you to join him to watch a game at the bar two blocks from your flat.”

Bucky hummed as he pretended to think about what he'd just heard, even though he remembered it perfectly. And he knew that earlier in the day he'd left it on hold, which was a clear and express no, but he hadn't said that to the woman who was now staring at him.

“I don't like football.”

The woman let out a snort of exasperation.

“This is why you have no friends, Bucky.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Bucky knew it was a joke. She'd said things like that to him before and it had never bothered him; he knew she didn't mean it in a derogatory way or to make fun of him. She would never do that. But subconsciously, he couldn't stop his mouth from blurting out the words he didn't want to say; words he would never have thought to say to her.

“I know you've had a bad day, Buck,” she spoke again after a few seconds, “But I just want to distract you.”

“I don't need your help, I can manage on my own.”

“Okay, let's just... change the subject, shall we?”

Bucky pursed his lips, but didn't dare connect their gazes.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay," she mused, and didn't speak again until a couple of seconds later, “How was your date?”

He gave a small smile before saying, “I'm sure you waited for a reasonable amount of time so you could satiate your curiosity.”

The woman let out a laugh, the kind that had the ability to calm Bucky's countenance for a few moments, before replying, “It's just that ever since I met you I didn't think I'd ever see you going on a real date.”

“And you probably won't again.”

“That's how bad it went?”

Bucky twisted his mouth, only remembering the image in the background of his neighbour's flat.

“It could have been worse.”

“Maybe we're just not cut out for dating.”

After a long moment, Bucky turned his head to watch her pursed lips. Her expression seemed downcast, but she pulled herself together quickly when she felt his gaze on her.

“What we've done or who we've been in the past, doesn't define what we can do or be now,” he reminded her of the words she always said to him when he felt he didn't deserve something good, and watched her nod at his words with a small smile, “Don't torment yourself thinking about it, neither of us had a choice.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”

Bucky smiled, sincerely, and for the first time since he had awoken that morning.

“I apply the philosophy you preach perfectly, I'm a great disciple.”

She elongated a sarcastic laugh that widened Bucky's grin. What was it about her that drew you in and bewitched you like that?

“In a trauma contest, you'd take first place, Barnes.”

“We'd be tied, you mean.”

The woman smiled at him, and between their looks, they both knew they were only hiding the truth behind the humour. Bucky didn't often do it, but since he'd met her, and considering that was something she often did -using humour to cover up the truth she'd rather not accept, or simply to hide the pain-, he'd gotten such a habit of doing it every so often that even his therapist was a little put out the first time he joked about one of his traumas in front of her. It was a very strange scenario that was never repeated.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier,” Bucky took the floor again, a little more relaxed than when he'd arrived soaking wet in the cafeteria, “It's just... I killed my neighbour's son.”

“No,” she replied quickly and firmly, as she did every time a similar topic came up in their conversations, “It was the Winter Soldier. It was a person they created to control and disenfranchise, that wasn't you. It wasn't the Bucky I know. I'm sorry to hear that, but... it wasn't your fault, I know that whatever they did for your mind was always rejected by your body, even if you couldn't control it.”

The man half-opened his lips, wanting to say something, wanting to give voice to the jumble of thoughts concurring in his mind, but nothing managed to come out other than incoherent babbling.

“I... I don't know how to tell him.”

“You really want to?”

Bucky nodded, looking into the woman's shining, understanding eyes as she brought one of her hands up to cradle the side of his face.

“Then you'll find a way. Don't push yourself.”

He rested his right hand on the hand the woman held on his cheek, and leaned his head slightly into her touch. Although the stress and tension did not disappear completely, it did give way to a relaxing and lively sense of calm and stillness. Bucky didn't know if she had done it on purpose or not, but her words, though few, brought back a harmonic undertone he hadn't allowed himself to return to in a long time.

Then you'll find a way.

Don't push yourself.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter solider #tfatws bucky #tfawts #fatws

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fyeahvarchie · 3 years

Note

I have never felt so turned off from watching Riverdale after what they did in 5.18. This whole season have felt like a disjointed mess but with all that I still felt you could see where the Varchie story arc was going and when we finally reached the finish line by 5.17 we got whatever the hell that was in 5.18!!!?? (not counting the cute moving in together scene) It fell flat consider everything we've seen from Veronica's side the entire season by coming home starting up her own business in the town she has referred to as home, saving Riverdale together with Archie, letting Archie remodel the whole damn Pembrooke for a long term solution to live in Riverdale. So what was that all about? if her dreams all along have been to get back to New York and have this swanky ass Penthouse and living a high roller life in the city just like Reggie because I can assume that's what the writers just told us in the last episode when she was all "sounds like heaven, Reggie" when he told her what his future would be in 5 years. It felt like more of a way to keep Veronica and Archie a part yet again but it didn't actually align with the story they've been telling this whole damn season.

I didn't even understand the whole convo when she compared her toxic marriage and an abuser like Chad to Archie and their relationship about feeling muted the same way she had felt with Chad. Archie would never just think of her as a "baby machine" and see her as only this housewife/stay at home mom that can't excel at being both a mom (in the future) and having a career.

We know from the promo she will move onto Reggie (I guess that's what she meant with we should figure out things first and not rush things 🤦 I kinda thought they did that from 5.11-5.17) and I guess Archie goes to Betty again (rebound? who really knows after what the writers did in 5.18) it all feels very rushed and not the same direction they set up with up until the last episode. I guess those relationships are what's going to be showed during the whole 5 episode special event coming when season 6 starts. Let me just tell you NOT INTERESTED. Let me know when they're bringing Varchie back and when Veronica has figured out whatever it is she must figure out.

I don't think any of us understood what went down to be honest. And I truly don't think we'll get actual answers either.

They simply rushed through these storylines in the middle of an episode that was centered around the loss of Polly. I mean, they literally had to cut some scenes.

We can try all we want to make sense of what went down, but the truth is -- this wasn't the original plan. And you can clearly see by the 180 they had most characters do in one single episode.

But there's nothing we can do.

Aside from not letting that stupid show dictate anything we might feel in regards to those characters and ships.

Although it's difficult, it's best to simply ignore it all. Because that's what they're gonna do at some point.

They'll move on from everything they've said and done in 518/519 and they'll tell us we have to as well.

Cue flashback to the cheating scandal.

#ask: varchie

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Tom Holland - This two-seat couch

I don’t know how I did it but I managed to post twice in a week and stop being dead to Tumblr. Don’t misundertand this with me being a funtional human being, I’m a still a piece of GaRBaGe💕

Plot: college!Tom has some feelings for you, and you have some feelings for you. Maybe, ‘some’ isn’t the way to describe it, more like ‘madly in love with my best friend’. Thank God though for those two-seat couch where knees brush.

Tom was no stranger to see the hours pass by in the clock at night. Whether it was because he had an important test he couldn’t understand or a party that ended when the sun came up, he was used to staying up to ungodly times at night. He already knew what every channel emitted when the moon appeared, and what were the few things that were worthy to see. What surprised him, though, was that you were still fighting to keep your eyes open for a little longer. He knew you too well, and you usually knocked out when the clock stroke twelve at the latest.

Always good on tests and getting up early rather than staying late, you were the good example he didn’t follow. Tom went to parties while you watched your favourite show before falling asleep, and you memorized things with just reading them once while he spent hours with no results. Still, years of college and friendship, of weird conversations between two polar opposites had brought you to that place together.

You were crammed onto Tom’s tiny two-seat couch, limbs tangled in positions that shouldn’t have been comfortable. Tom was side awake, hyper aware of every point where your bodies touch, but he was slack against the back of the couch, arm resting on the leg you had thrown over his pal. You’re leaning on the arm of the couch, other foot planted on the floor between his. Both of you watching TV, thinking about different things.

Still, you were paying far more attention to the show than Tom was, even if he proposed it. It was a terrible movie, but he knew you liked to laugh with them. As if you could read him, you cracked up laughing, and the sound brought a smile to the football player’s face.

“It’s the worst film I’ve ever seen for sure” your eyes shone with the TV lights. “You’re outstanding yourself lately”

“I’m trying my best to satisfy your horrific love for this movies, considering you’ve seen most of them already” Tom bit back, comfortable and, at the same time, on cloud nine. “Besides, it seems I finally found the perfect way of keeping you from falling asleep in the middle of our movie night”

“I don’t always fall asleep”

“Tell that to the permanent drool stain on my couch”

It didn’t matter if you laughed and punched his shoulder friendly, he knew you would be dropping soon. The movie night was a tradition already he didn’t even want to miss; every Sunday, when your parents dropped you off in the dorms, Tom would pick you up and you would spend the night with him, watching a crappy film. Then, next morning he would take you to your class. As he had his own apartment, you had more space there than in your small room.

Since you had met two years ago – first day of collage by getting paired up in a weird meeting game – you had formed a weird relationship that no one could really understand. To most, you weren’t the prettiest girl in the campus. To Tom, you were the best.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Tom was so immersed in his own head that he hardly registered your yawning. Another leg was thrown on his lap, and you moved so that you could rest your head on his shoulder. Tom gave the clock another glance, knowing you were minutes away from falling asleep. And damn if it wasn’t his favourite part of the day, watching you sleep against his shoulder.

“So that you don’t complain about the drool stain on your couch” you said, trying to keep your eyes open. Your hot breath hit Tom’s neck like a thousand needles, making him shiver. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fine, but you can go to sleep” he assured you, lowering the TV volume. He brought you closer to him with his left arm, until you were nested against him. “Your bedtime was like five hours ago, darling”

“I don’t fall asleep that early” you scoffed, making yourself comfortable against him. “It’s you who fall asleep too late. That’s gonna bite you in the ass when you’re older”

From any other person, he would have taken it as an insult. While most of the people thought he spent the nights awake playing games or drinking, the majority of nights were spend trying to understand what the books he was studying were saying. Tom wasn’t ashamed of his dyslexia, but accepting it didn’t make it any easier. His roommates and friends tried not to talk about how Tom spent nights awake studying, or how most of his breakdowns involved not understanding what he had to study.

He was used to people ignoring he had dyslexia, so he had tried to ignore it too; until you found him one night in the library with misty eyes and head in hands, and you had helped him. Together, you discovered that he just needed someone to explain or read the things to him, and Tom had a boost on his grades.

So he just tickled your side at the comment, enjoying the soft whine that left your lips.

“You should go to bed” Tom smiled, ignoring completely the screams of the movie. “Tomorrow you’re gonna be complaining about neck ache”

“That’s just an excuse to have you massaging my shoulders”

“That’s what I am now? A massager prostitute?”

“You’re not that good, don’t get your hopes up” you said with your eyes closed. “But I have to agree with the second part”

“What – you think I’m a prostitute?”

“Well, kind of?” you opened one eye to look at him. “Come on, Tommy. You have slept with half of the girls in my dorm. Probably I’m the only one who hasn’t slept with you, actually”

That was the worst part about Tom’s college life. He was the football team’s captain, he lived with his best mate Harrison and could get the privilege to hold you while you two sat on the couch and you fell asleep on him. Then, as you walked out of your own paradise of Tom’s two pieces couch, you went to the mattress Tom had taken out for you and you slept besides him, on the floor. To him, it was the moment his little moment of happiness broke.

He could pretend all he wanted when you two sat together, watched a bad film and teased each other like friends did. But he wanted so desperately for it to be true; and it had a simple solution, telling you what he felt like and embracing his feelings like the man he was.

“I haven’t slept with everyone” he answered instead. “Your roommate – what was her name? Clare? Betty?”

“Lydia”

“Yeah, I haven’t slept with her” he swallowed down his annoyance. “And I can’t believe you think like that, you of all people! After inviting you to my own house to have a sleepover and let you eat pineapple pizza on my couch”

“God, don’t call it a sleepover like we’re teenage girls painting our nails with purpurin” you said laughing.

Tom really wanted to let it go, because he knew you hadn’t said it with bad intentions. The same way he teased you for going to bed early and reading too much, you could tease him for his way of living. It wasn’t as if it was a lie; he had slept with a few girls, he didn’t count, and he knew he was well liked among the dorms. If it had been any of his friends telling him that, he would have shoved them out of his way playfully and the problem had been solved.

But that you said it made him mad, because he didn’t want that image of himself for you. He wanted something better, something that, on his worst insecure nights, he thought he couldn’t achieve.

“And what’s wrong if I want to paint my nails? Will you stereotype me too for it, like you’re doing for sleeping with some girls?”

“Do you want to paint your nails?” you moved away from Tom, sleep slowly disappearing. “It was just a joke, if you want to paint your nails that’s fine. I can teach you”

“This is not about the nails!”

“Then what’s it about? Actually, what’s this?” you moved back to the other place in the couch, frowning at him.

“You telling me that I’m a prostitute?”

Since the moment you met Tom in that get to know each other activity, there hadn’t been any argument or disagreement. You were both total opposites, but you liked to think that way you compenetrated each other. Tom helped you to be more open and friendly, and was always there for you when your little dorm became too tiny. And when he had an test, he didn’t have to panic anymore because he wasn’t alone.

You weren’t even sure if it was an argument. You just knew that Tom was getting mad for something you had said and you didn’t know how to fix it. And if you were annoyed because you had had to move from your favourite place because of it, you didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t mean it, it was a joke”

“Yeah, it wasn’t” he scoffed. “It’s like – I can’t joke about you not going out or being a nerd, but you can joke about me being a prostitute?”

“I didn’t mean it, Tom!” you argued, louder than him. “Besides, it’s a lie? You’ve been with almost every girl I know”

“Could you stop repeating it?”

“Why, does the truth bother you?” the thought of him not denying it anymore led to you thinking about him with girls, and pretty girls with him, and you just being his friend. “Then stop doing it”

“Oh, of course!” he chuckled sarcastically. “I’ll stop just because you say so, because Y/N asked me to stay fucking virgin like her!”

Tom’s face was hit with the cushion so hard that his nose throbbed, at the same time someone in the movie died. A little ‘off’ left him as he threw the cushion away, rubbing the sore spot. That you were a virgin wasn’t something you shared with everyone, only with a few – and with Tom, after explaining that you weren’t comfortable hearing about what he did with some girls when he went out. It was low, and probably Tom shouldn’t have said it, but there was no turning back and now you were fully on your first argument as friends.

Friends, that should be more than that. Everyone saw how Tom was trailing behind you like a lost puppy when you walked through the corridors, and how you made time out of nothing to help him with his assignments. You were always the first one in the rows for his games, even if you hated loud places and crowds, and he always tried to keep up with the things you liked so he could make you happy. You were too blind to see it, the same way you were too blind to see you were arguing over a different feeling.

The two seat couch felt much longer now that Tom and you were angry, and your legs didn’t brush anymore.

“You’re an asshole”

“And a prostitute, it seems” Tom mumbled. “Something else you want to tell me?”

“It was a joke, Tom! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to hurt you – but yeah, you sleep with a lot of girls, I was stating that. Why do you have to be like this?”

“Be like what?”

“Ugh, a prick! You’re acting like the rest of college-players-boys”

“Oh my – yeah, of course Y/N! The queen of stereotypes! Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Fuck you, Tom. But – that’s probably offensive too, right?”

Tom didn’t answer, just went back to looking at the TV. Neither of you meant what you were saying, and truth was, it didn’t have any sense. He was mad because it had been months since he had been with a girl, because he preferred to spend his nights with you, texting or watching a bad film. He was angry because he hated the reminder of you just being friends, since it only made him think about how you could never be with a boy like him. You got outstanding in your tests, he barely passed if you didn’t help him. You were soft, nice and caring, and he was just an idiot.

You were mad because Tom had slept with girls that were you, and even if you got to hug in him the two seats couch on Sunday’s night, you didn’t wake up by his side in the morning. You were angry because he just couldn’t see how much you loved him and how much it hurt you to be just his friend for two years. He celebrated games, parties and small gatherings, and you barely celebrated your birthday anymore. He was popular, gorgeous and had a million dollars smile, and you were what the football team would call just an average girl.

It was silent for a while, all track of sleep having gone away. You pretended to look at the movie from different ends of the couch, pretended not wanting to go back to each other. Another ten minutes ran by and the clock hit one thirty in the morning. The next day, you would have to wake up soon to go to class, physically fighting Tom into going with you and not missing the first period. Part of your anger flew away when you thought about him waking up early just to take you to class even if he didn’t have to.

Eventually, you relaxed in your part of the two seats couch and you gave Tom a side glance; who was already looking at you. When you faced him, he talked.

“I’m sorry” he croaked out. “I didn’t mean any of that – I just… I’m sorry”

“I don’t think you’re a prostitute” you admitted, and Tom cracked into a smile. “Sorry, too. I don’t have any right to –“

“I really like you” he blurted out, before he could chicken out; already happening. “Like, really, really like you. More than a friend. And I’m sorry that I slept with so many girls, but I’m not longer that person. Because now I-I like you a lot, and I just want to be with you. So, yeah. I really like you”

When your mother told you that you had to go to bed early because nothing good could happen after midnight, you didn’t think she was talking about hallucinations. It took you a while to realize that Tom had really said that he really liked you. You had imagined something like ‘yeah, you didn’t have the right to call me that so go back to your room and we’ll talk in the morning’. If only you had known, you would have stayed past midnight the first time you met him.

“It’s okay if you don’t… like me back” Tom turned around and looked at the film, although you could see the glassy reflection of the lights on his eyes. “Just, thought you should know”

“No, I – just, I didn’t think you could like me” you too went back to looking at the TV, to make your own contribution to make the night even weirder. “I just, you know. You’re you, and I’m… me”

“I have the feeling that you’re not talking about you being a wonderful and brilliant person and me being kind of dumb, as I was thinking about” Tom muttered. “But that’s the only true that I know”

“You’re not dumb” you said. As if your body could move on it’s own, you were no longer on your end of the couch, but your ass was in the middle of the two seats. “You’re – you. And I really like you”

“We’re sounding like teenagers in a sleepover right now”

Tom had moved too, and you were again in your original positions; ignoring the free space in the small couch in favour of sitting together in the middle of it. Someone else died on the movie. It was, indeed, the worst one you had ever seen; about a group of friend who go into a trip to the mountains and find some killer sheep, that when kill someone they turn into another sheep. It was so, so ridiculous that you didn’t mind missing the ending for Tom.

His hand, that was big enough to cover your face, pulled you closer. He moved his face and your noses didn’t touch. You didn’t want to close your eyes, didn’t want to let the anxiety of giving your first kiss and doing it wrong. But it was Tom – who had a lucky pair of underwear, wore sock over his sweaters and had a blue teddy from his family that always slept with him.

You let him pull you closer as the last scream tow through the screen, making the moment even better. It was nothing like what you had imagined, and at the same time, it was. Tom was careful, not pushing you, just pressing his lips against yours and letting them dance on their own. His lips trapped your bottom one without any force, and he moved away after the shortest seconds of your life.

When you opened your eyes, the world wasn’t brighter and you didn’t feel any prettier than before; the only thing you felt was happy, and liked. And they were the best feelings you had ever felt.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want” Tom tried to assure you, his hand still on your cheeks and his breath on your lips. “We don’t – if you want your time, we can still be friends. I’ll wait, and –“

You moved once more to kiss him, that time crossing the line of the two seat couch of Tom’s apartment. His chuckle was swallowed as the credits rolled down the screen, and he finally grabbed and dragged you to his lap, where you were finally comfortable. Instead of going to your own mattress or sleeping in Tom’s bed, you fell asleep right there, in his two seat couch and wrapped around him.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 3 years

Text

The Full Moon (A White Demon’s Love Song, Part 7.)

Series description: A new job was the reason you found yourself on a lonely road trip on the western coast, ending up in the woods of the Olympian Peninsula. Yet a sudden car malfunction was what cause your unplanned stay in Forks. To your surprise, there was a lot of sinister things going on under the veil of fog.

Part Summary: As the relationship between you and the grumpy shapeshifter finally moved on to the better ground, you knew you were now in the position to ask to see more of the magic that Quilete people could do.

A/N: Okay, okay, okay. I'm back and... Let's get this bad boy running, shall we?

Tagging: @missdictatorme

Word count: 4.6 K

Twilight playlist: ✨ Twilight Crackheads ✨

Series masterlist: H E R E

Jacob sat there in dead silence for a moment, before he looked back at you, just sitting there, chewing the meat and staring at him with a small smile. - "Are you sure that you're in the right headspace? We can talk about this later if you want." - At that, you furrowed. You've asked him to show you the wolf again. Okay, maybe, you've been making a fairground attraction out of his abilities and you weren't afraid to tell it out loud, but you wanted to see the animal again. You were curious about seeing it. - "What are you after?" - You mumbled, taking another bite from your almost cold meal. Dear Lord, you've been sitting at the table for more than half an hour. - "You've hit your head, had a panic attack, fainted twice, and even though, you want to see it again. Don't you have any sort of self-preservation instinct? Or do you just find it exciting to have your life threatened all the time?"

It was played out as a joke and you both grinned, you even let out a small laugh... But it was just reminding Jacob of her. How excited she was to discover the werewolves, that she was fond of learning more about them - more so, there was a short fascination phase. Funny, how things sometimes replayed the exact way it was before. - "Hey, look at it from my perspective. I've been living my whole life listening to fairytales and legends, myths, stories... And now, I've learned that some of them are real. Of course, I want to see it again." - "It's not a magic trick. It's who I am, Y/N." - Jacob looked you dead in the eyes to scare you off a bit, but it hadn't made you even flinch. - "And I do respect that, Jacob." - It was just a whisper, but the five words meant a whole lot.

You were telling him that you're respecting this side of him and that you're not scared anymore. Well, that you're not scared of him, more so - which was fair, there was something way more malicious to be scared of. The cold ones, knowns also as the fricking vam-pi-res which you still couldn't say out loud. And now, it was your conflict as well, whether you wanted to take part in it or not. You were there and you should accommodate real fast, or it's going to cost a lot more than a slight concussion, two faintings, and obviously, making yourself an idiot out of yourself in front of fucking everyone. Which made you furrow. - "How do you even know I fainted twice and that I was acting like an idiot? You weren't here - Seth was with me the whole time." - "It's going to get crazier than it already is... Do you want me to answer this one?" - Jacob furrowed and you nodded. - "Are you sure?" - He asked once more. Again, you nodded

Maybe you thought that you're going crazy, Jacob couldn't tell what was going through that head of yours. So far, it seemed that not that much was going on there. And so, he went for it. - "We can see, hear, and feel our thoughts. The members of the pack a 24/7 access to every thought that has ever gone through your head, every feeling that went through... They can see everything. It's very uncomfortable and scary - but that's how I know what was happening here." - "Like all the time?" - "No, only when we shift and the person shifts around the same time." - Wow. How many boobies did the werewolves have to see? How much of the action... Did they see? Sex was the last appropriate thought in a situation like this one - but it was the most natural one.

Once more, your face was looking like a frozen Windows XP program as you thought about all the dirty secrets they knew about eating others... Well, there weren't any dirty secrets if they simply saw all of them, huh? That was one of the most fucked up things you've heard until that day. - "And can you like... Not share with them?" - You wondered after at least two-minutes-lasting silence. - "When you're good at playing mind games or you're a total asshole, constantly thinking about something unpleasant, theoretically, you can hide some of your memories... But trust me, we've been in each other's heads for enough of a long time. Mind games start to bore you to death after some time." - "But it's better than seeing someone bending Betty from the gas station over a table, ain't it? I'm sorry, but I can't stand the bare thought of seeing my friends... Doing stuff. Yuck." - At that, Jacob snickered - which fluidly translated to a burst of happy laughter. - "I'm talking years of being in each other's heads. Not just... Weeks or months. No matter how hard you'd try to conceal everything, there's always a small moment of vulnerability, which can tell others everything, especially when you imprint. Then you don't care about how the miserable singles perceive your all-day projection of a happy relationship." - Jacob mumbled then, his expression coldening at the end of his statement.

Again, there was this hint of sadness and the other Jacob taking over the wheel, steering the ship for now. Yet now, you were to jump straight into the sadness. - "Come again? Imprinting? And what's that about?" - You asked, reminding him that most of this is all news for you. You've never been inside the consciousness of the pack - you never saw Quil constantly gushing over his precious Claire, or before, you couldn't hear Sam thinking of Emily. At the start, it was sweet, but occasionally, it started to feel like flexing on the members who hadn't found the one yet. - "That's another form of slavery we, as the werewolves, participate in." - Jacob tried to joke around, but the tone of his voice gave him in. - "Okay, I'm ready to hear about that."

It wasn't making Jacob easy to talk about the imprinting, trying to explain it to someone - again. But he did. He talked about endless love where the wolf had no choice but to listen to the damn calling of his imprintee. He couldn't leave, he couldn't just stop loving them, the wolves had no choice in this matter. It was one of the most unfair and disgusting, weird things you've heard about that evening. But it made you think... Maybe this was why Jacob was so sour about Bella all the time. He imprinted - and she just let his trust go, becoming a vampire. She let him suffer, alone and unwanted. - "Did it..." - "No." - Jacob answered before you've even finished your question. So that wasn't what happened either - but you were positive that something similar to it had happened. The idea simply haunted you - how would it feel to fall for someone without choosing to do so? Without any reasoning?

On the other hand, it must've been extremely freeing. Not to think about doing right and wrong, just to do as your head tells you to - to love, admire and care for a person until the point it almost kills you, not to put yourself and your feelings in the first place... Damn. It had pros and cons. - "Okay." - You said when you've settled all the ideas inside your head. - "When we'll be doing it? I mean, when you're going to show me?" - Well, you certainly weren't fucking around. There was no question about IF Jake's going to show you, the question asked was starting with WHEN. On one hand, you've had the right to know more about it. On the other hand, it was none of your fucking business - especially with the vampires lurking around Forks.

And as usual for Jacob, he chooses the less logical solution. - "Tonight. I have a watch over the Ozette lake and I'm supposed to be alone there. Also, it's not probable for the leeches to track us out there." - Jacob was never the best with making good decisions, that was the first thing going on there. The second matter was that Jacob was sure you'd follow him into the woods - and if you'd drop dead again, Seth couldn't be the prince to rescue this time. The third thing about this situation was that it would be most likely the best solution, for a few days, to stick with one of the wolves. The trackers hadn't come across the few drops you've let in the forest when you banged your forehead into a damn root - they'd surely soon do so since it was quite smelly.

Now, when you were on board with everything, it also wasn't so crazy to ask you about borrowing a t-shirt from you. Sure, other boys and mainly Sam won't be too happy with how much did Jacob tell you - yet it was better than you walking around without having any clue. He could leave out some parts, for sure, but why would he do so? He was in a fucking shitty situation - no way in hell would he be pretending that everything on the planet is a-ok. - "Okay." - You chimed happily. Suddenly, you whipped folds with papers on the table, working as you ate the last crumpets on your plate. - "Also, there's this one problem." - "The money doesn't add up? " - Jacob asked back, his eyes glued to the TV. - "No, I'm just almost done with all the papers I was able to find there. You don't have the business for too long, do you?

At this, another bit of the conversation was started - Jacob told you how he got the old workshop from a mechanic who was too old to keep up. Of course, he paid something for the business, but it was more of a symbolic amount of money than a huge sum. Jacob also started to keep the record about all the gigs he has taken since he started to work as the new mechanic; yet despite his best tries, he was a messy person - your help was heavily appreciated in this field. This start-up was just what Jacob needed to leave La Push. He was still spending some time at the weekend in there with his dad, Seth, and his other friends, but now, he was trying to get through life on his own.

He dreamt about going on a vacation to somewhere where it's always sunny and warm, but he was still saving up for the dreamy trip of his life. Which, as you guessed, wasn't going too well. Jacob, being the good-willed idiot, was trying to help the needy people who couldn't afford to pay that much for a mechanic and there was a lot of small amounts of money he just... Let go. Just like with you, with Mrs. Peterson, and a ton of other people. So... He was most likely to spend his whole damn life in Forks. - "Yeah, but I mean... I will be done soon. What should I do when all the papers are sorted?" - You asked when the story was ended. - "Well, since you still have a debt, you might as well help me with the gigs, I suppose. Tomorrow, I have one in Sappho and then two cars in La Push, I think. And a routine check-up at the station... And then your car." - Jacob started to count on his fingers, naming every gig he had written into his calendar. - "I don't know anything about cars. And you've told me that you're gonna do something to me if I even get close to one of your cars. The cars don't like me either, just to let you know." - At that, Jacob laughed into the back of his palm. - "I'll be there and I'll show you your way around the cars, I swear. You won't be letting anyone's car blow up on my watch." - And there, it was the start of something so-called a friendship.

As Jacob promised, it could be around 8 p.m. as you both climbed into the tank he called a car. He made sure you've made yourself some hot tea and put it into a Thermo cup, some food, he so made you take your jacket and his raincoat just to be sure you won't feel cold. The whole ride to the unknown was quiet, yet in a nice way. You've been shifting on your seat expectedly, watching your surroundings. There were woods as far as you could see, nothing but deep and dark woods. Suddenly, Jacob turned off the engine and looked at you. You've been in the middle of literal nowhere, yet Jacob was sure you're just where you've been supposed to be. - "Well, come on, we're here." - The man smiled sadly. He was playing out the worst scenarios inside his mind for the last ten minutes and he was just praying you wouldn't fain when he'd show his wolf form to you. - "We'll be walking for half an hour," - "In this pitch-black night? Are you out of your mind?" - At that weak argument, Jacob snickered quite happily.

"I forgot you can't see that well in the dark." - The man scratched the nape of his neck as he looked around. - "But you'll be just fine, trust me. Let's go." - With a quite loud clap, he ventured to the forest head first, not waiting for what you wanted to do. Unexpectedly, you stood still at the trunk of his car while the wildest thoughts raced through your mind. That man told you, just mere hours ago, that there are vam-pi-res somewhere in the woods and now he wanted you to wander somewhere behind him, orienting only through the sounds of his heavy footsteps... Jacob was surely half-insane, you were one hundred percent sure of that. Suddenly, said crazy man popped his head on the other side of the trunk, making you squirm in fear. First, you ducked and tried to hide, but then, your mind clicked as your brain realized it's only Jacob

"Holy mother of shit." - The curse made Jacob grin, but he didn't say a single word as he leaned his elbows to the sides of the said trunk. - "I swear to God that I'll have a heart attack if you keep fucking around with me. You scared me to death."

"What are you so scared about? I've heard everyone looks better in the dark, Y/N, which makes me the best looking man in all of the Forks and La Push." - At that argument, a wide grin appeared on your face. Sure, you still were a bit tense, but as of now, Jacob's presence was calming you down... Which was a thing you thought you'd never say out loud. In the end, he was one grumpy and scary package. As of now, he was tall as a mountain and pretty well-built as far as you could judge; said man could also turn into a wolf at will, so it was a win-win situation. You had to be safe with him even if you didn't want to. - "Debatable." - It was not much more than a silent mumble when you answered Jacob. - "Come on. Don't be a sissy, nothing bad can happen to you. I can't smell anything inhuman in here. You're safe."

To be absolutely exact, Jacob couldn't smell anything other than you. Not that you'd be smelly or smelling funny, your smell was just outrageously strong, even in an opened, windy space. But he was sure that if any leech would be lurking around, he'd either see or smell them. - "Sissy?" - Was the answer you came up with, leaving the safe space behind the trunk. With never-before-seen confidence, you walked up to the edge of the woods, quite literally pulling your sleeves up in the process. - "You called me a sissy? Well, young man, you just outdo yourself. I'm no sissy." - And just like that, you stumbled to the pitch-black dark forest, walking a few steps forward between mossy, cold trees. At first, you still knew Jake's right behind to watch each of the steps you made, yet as the time passed by, the silence was growing louder and louder.

You've made it a few feet into the woods before you realized that you, in fact, were a total sissy. As you walked out of the edge again, you could now see Jacob resting his back on the side of his car, watching you with a small, daring smile. - "I gave you a minute before you walk back out. You impressed me with your time of a minute and fifteen seconds." - "Oh, fuck off. A forest is a freaky place when you can't see even a foot away from you. I almost hit a tree with my forehead." - With a sigh, you caught the straps of your backpack in your palms and looked at him. - "Well, lucky for you, I have a plan B."

First, you didn't know what he was doing - the man kneeled in front of you while showing you his back, waiting for you to do something. What you were supposed to do was in no way clear to you, to be honest. - "Are you climbing on it or not?" - Jacob asked impatiently after almost a minute of getting his knees wet. Were you doing... What? What did the man just ask you to do? To climb on his back? Well, who were you not to deliver?

With all the concentration you had in you and with the best skill you could have while wearing two thick jackets, you climbed on his back, making sure you were holding to his shoulders as firmly as you could. At first, it seemed to be working - with little to no actual force, Jacob walked at least half a mile with you on his back. The only problem was your ass slowly slipping down with each step he took. And suddenly...

"Oh, loca. Did you hurt yourself?" - As soon as Jacob heard a loud wet thud, he knew you've fallen directly on your ass. Yeah, it did hurt a little, but it was nothing you wouldn't walk off pretty easily. - "No, I think I'm good, it's basically nothing." - A mutter along with a sharp curse word left your lips as you tried to pick yourself hard. And you needed to say that it wasn't the easiest task when you couldn't see more than one and a half feet from you. Jacob watched you trying to find a tree nearby with a smirk on his face before he actually bowed down and made sure to pick you up bridal style.

"I can walk on my own, Jesus Christ, Black! I'm heavy!" - A quiet squirm hit Jacob's ears as he started running with you in his arms as if you were nothing but air. Even though you started to wiggle a bit to show you're not consenting to be carried, the man could hear your heart slowly calming down. Just like that, you felt very safe. - "We can talk about that once you start walking properly. You women really need to work on your marches, let me tell you that." - Jacob answered while making his way forward as if you weren't even there. - "It's hard to walk when you can't see for your dear life." - Was the last mutter you left out before curling up closer to the warmth he radiated as you tried to find a better position for yourself to relieve both him and you.

Jacob remembered the forest trail to lake Ozette from the back of his head. During the day, the place could be lovely when any leeches were around - it was a huge body of water laying as far as an eye could see, some shores were beachy, some of them were covered in reeds. When the summer was warm enough, it was one of Jake's favorite spots to take a swim at along with the boys, especially when they decided they are bored of cliff diving for now. As he thought about that, there were many beautiful spots around Washington the guides didn't talk about and which you definitely had to see for yourself - just like that one meadow high up in the mountains, or the canyon cutting the edge between Quileute and Cullen territory. There was just something simply magical about these spots.

It took him a moment to form the right kind of sentence before he started talking. Which, let's be honest, kinda freaked you out - the man was running around a pitch-black forest with you in his arms and nothing more than jean shorts and a plain t-shirt on, barefoot, let you add and he still found to breath to talk to you amidst all of that. - "You know, if we survive all of this in good health..." - Jacob started carefully. It was meant as a joke, but seeing your eyes widen in horror made him realize this wasn't funny to you. - "I mean, when all this is over, because, we will destroy those leeches and that's a promise, I think I have some secret spots for you that you might want to see." - "But... What about my car? Won't it be long repaired by then?" - Ouch. It was a good question, but it hurt the good-hearted Jacob right in the feels; this time, the mean, grumpy guy wasn't in charge.

Yes, he should focus on repairing your car as quickly as he was capable of just to get you out of Forks for good. As a reward, he wouldn't feel the heavy responsibility for another human being who was fully dependant on him and his pack in this scenario. On the other hand... - "What if we don't get the right parts, huh? I think you should start to prepare for prolonging your stay in Forks and by all means, you should find yourself a good part-time job. Newtons always look for a part-time worker." - Even if you could see just a sheer glimpse of his teeth, you knew he was basically smiling from ear to ear.

"Jacob Black, you're one of the best mechanics I've seen," - Wow. That was a huge compliment. Yet, then the second part of the sentence came to play and it ruined the nice thing completely. - "Truth is, I have seen like... One mechanic working. But you seem to be great at what you're doing and with your love for classic cars, there's no way in hell you wouldn't get my Beetle working." - "You meant do say the wreck, didn't you?" - "Oh, fuck you. No more compliments for you, you get cocky too easily." - To keep you in the headspace of winning that small quarrel, Jacob didn't say a word throughout the rest of the way. It wasn't much longer a mere five minutes later when something very bright hit your eyes.

Oh, it was the moon. It made sense - no clouds were in the sky, it was clear and you've also been miles away from the nearest small town. Here, as it reflected in the masses of water, the moon looked as big as never before. When Jacob put you down, you didn't wait for a signal that the proximity of Ozette if vam-pi-re free and just walked to the meadow surrounding it. As it was to be expected, it was cold as hell - there was a huge mass of water in front of you and the wind was blowing; yet your eyes were basically glued to the big, grey, shiny ball on the sky. - "I told you there are some secret spots you might enjoy." - Black grinned as he pressed something to your hand. At first, you just nodded with your mouth opened as you were unable to look away, yet as soon as you realized you're holding a piece of cloth, it hit you - Jacob walk walking back to the edge of the forest's edge, unzipping his jean shorts. It was happening.

With a soft thud, you took down your backpack and turned head first towards the spot the man disappeared at. Nothing more than a splashing of water and soft howling of the wind could be heard, yet you knew exactly what was happening. And when it happened, the sound reminded you of a quiet, strange explosion, you knew that this time, you've been perfectly prepared for what was waiting for you hidden just ten feet away from the nearest tree.

This time, when you saw it, you hadn't fainted. In fact, you stood perfectly still and watched the majestic animals slowly walking towards you.

#the twilight saga #jacob black #jacob black x fem!reader #the werewolf bois are back baby #you'll see them in the next round #they'll make at least a guest appearance #damn it feels good to be back #even if i just finish this series #did you listen to twilight soundtrack?#you should #it's cracked #i swear

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actuallybarb · 4 years

Text

The Aftermath ~ Part 3

Summary: y/n learns how much of a dick mysterio is and gets hit in the head because of it

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio being a dick, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 2017, the year i honest to god don’t remember, like at all

A/N: okay we’re starting to get rolling and i’m excited! i don’t remember how far i got last time but i’m really glad i’m finishing this time

//////////

If Harrington thought I was going to the opera his head was farther up his ass than I thought. We all groaned as he made the announcement and turned back upstairs to get changed. But I didn’t go back downstairs.

“Come on, Y/N.” I didn’t peg MJ as one to plead, but here she was, making puppy dog eyes at me. But if I could resist Peter’s, I could resist anyone’s.

“Remember how I said I was trying to prove Peter wrong? That’s way more entertaining than some stupid opera.”

I could feel her losing patience with me. Hell, I was losing patience with me. I wasn’t really helping myself become more integrated in my class, but Quentin Beck was all I could think about. I had to solve this mystery, for Peter and for myself.

MJ scoffed before slamming the door on her way out of the room. I paid no mind to it and got to typing.

It felt disrespectful to break into the servers of a company who’s namesake had just died, but I tried to convince myself this is what Tony Stark would’ve wanted. Yeah, sure, Y/N. I know, I’m pathetic, let’s move on.

It only took me an hour and a half to break in, and ten minutes after that to find Beck’s file.

It wasn’t pretty.

“Contract terminated due to unstable behavior.”

“Upon further psychoanalysis Quentin Beck has shown sociopathic tendencies and is a danger to himself and others.”

“Before removal from Stark Industries, Beck manipulated company drones to create illusions, disturbing many employees, including Tony Stark himself.”

Oh.

Fuck.

The stupid metal thing in the water, it was part of a drone. A drone used to make the Elemental.

I have to tell Peter.

I pulled on my sneakers and started running through the streets of Prague to the Opera House, but I ran into MJ, literally, as she was leaving.

“Where are you going?”

“Why are you running?”

“I asked you first.”

“I’m following Peter.”

“I’m looking for Peter.”

“Did you figure it out?”

“Yeah. And if we don’t get to him soon he’ll do something really stupid.”

I let MJ lead the way as we ran in the direction of the light festival. But before we could get too close, I pulled her aside.

“Listen, shit is about to hit the fan. As much as you’ll want to look for Peter and help, promise me you’ll stay back. Okay?”

“What are you gon—“

“Just promise me, MJ. I need to protect my friends.”

She gulped. “Okay, yeah, I promise.”

I exhaled in relief. “Good. Now let’s find Peter before this all goes to hell.”

It wasn’t that hard to find him. He was the one webbing the fire monster up, or at least trying to. But MJ didn’t know that. MJ couldn’t know that.

“Remember when I told you to stay back? That’s the smart thing to do right now.” MJ nodded and moved to a side street, still with an ample view of the festival.

I knew it was an illusion. But I couldn’t figure out how it was so real. What had Peter said? It grows stronger with metal? That’s something I could work with.

Of course, the big metal scaffolding was right where the fire monster was headed. But something distracted me first.

“Help! Help!” Betty and Ned were trapped in the ferris wheel, and the Elemental was getting closer and closer.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?”

Betty looked down at me and visibly sighed. “Thank god, Y/N, can you get someone to help us? We can’t get down.”

“Yeah, just—just hold on.” I could easily help them. But did I want my secret getting out to any more people?

Another swipe from the Elemental that was a little too close for comfort made my decision for me. I hovered myself up beside their door and manipulated the gears in the lock, letting it swing open as wide as their mouths were.

“Y/N, what the—“

I lifted some rock beneath the cobblestone and made a sturdy platform for them to stand on. “You might wanna hold onto something.” Then I shot them back down the thirty feet to the ground. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“We’re talking about this later!” Ned shouted as he and Betty ran for cover. I just rolled my eyes as I landed on the ground again.

In the time it took to get them to safety, though, Quentin showed up and was putting on a fantastic show. And I still had no idea how it worked. But I was determined to foil it.

One of the perks of being able to conjure fire: if I concentrate hard enough, I can become fireproof. So I could easily get in the middle of the fiery bastard and see how he did it. But I couldn’t be seen. Or, I could douse him up and hope he hardens, like lava.

The cat’s out of the bag, Dani, just finish the stupid thing.

Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever.

I felt a pull in my gut, my abs tightened, and I could hear the rush of water in my ears. With all of the strength I had left, I directed the water shooting out of the fire hydrant straight in the Elemental’s face. It was working, too, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then something hard and heavy hit the back of my head, and I went out like a light.

//////////

“Shit, shit, shit! C’mon, wake up, wake up!”

It felt like my skull was caved in. I knew it wasn’t, considering I could actually feel how bad my headache was, but that didn’t change the fact that it still hurt like a bitch. The person kept shaking me to get up, but all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep for five days. Note to self, sleep deprivation is never the solution.

One more good shake and I was groaning and wincing and barely opening my eyes. “God, I’m up, calm the hell down.”

Peter Parker was looking down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. I tried to sit up and he put an arm around my waist, helping me. “Are you okay?”

I squinted my eyes at him. It looked like Peter. It sounded like Peter. And yet, it didn’t feel like Peter. You pay attention to how people walk long enough, you start to recognize their patterns of movement. And this was all wrong. “Really? I just got hit in the head with a brick and you’re seriously asking if I’m okay?”

A light smile crossed his lips. “Yeah, that was a stupid question.”

I moved to stand up completely but Peter stood first and extended a hand to me. He felt wrong. I nearly toppled over when I stood, and Peter took a step to catch me, and I couldn’t feel him. Like, sure, I felt arms around my waist, but they weren’t Peter’s. The step wasn’t Peter’s. “You ask those a lot.”

What the hell was going on?

Another laugh from Not-Peter and it was a little unsettling to hear his voice so perfectly and yet know it wasn’t him. “I’ll probably keep asking them. C’mon, let’s get back to the hotel.”

My head felt like it was going to split in half, my ears were ringing, and I couldn’t even stand up straight without falling over. But I refused to take another step. “You’re not Peter.”

He made the exact face I imagined Peter would make. “What are you talking about, of course I’m Peter. You must’ve hit your head really hard.” His hand reached up to touch my forehead but I grabbed his wrist and let my hand get hot. Really hot. He looked like he was in pain, then he finally grimaced, and there was a small flicker by his ear. I was right.

“Where. The hell. Is Peter.”

Beneath the ringing in my ears I heard a low whir. Almost imperceptible. But definitely there. Without breaking eye contact I shifted my feet and shot a shard of earth at the noise. A crash resulted that rattled my brain and almost made me flinch, but it definitely made part of Not-Peter’s facade glitch.

Shit.

“You’re smart, kid, I’ll give you that.”

It was still Peter’s face, Peter’s voice. But the world around us started crumbling and I was suddenly falling and no amount of manipulation to the air currents was going to stop me from hitting the ground full force. Concussion number 2, anyone?

“Where’s Peter?”

“You really shouldn’t be so worried about him when you have other friends to think about.”

Suddenly I was looking up at our hotel and MJ was thrown from the top. Then Ned. Then Flash.

And I couldn’t save any of them.

More and more classmates were piled on top of each other, none of them alive. None of them saved by me.

I knew it wasn’t real. I did all of that research, I lost days of sleep over it, I knew. But all I could look at was MJ’s lifeless eyes and think that they looked so real.

“What the hell do you want?” I wanted to sound dignified. Like I was in control of myself. Like I wasn’t absolutely terrified. But I was. I didn’t know whether I was feeling the truth or not, and that scared me the most.

“To watch you squirm.”

I was thrown to the side and my surroundings changed again. I was twelve once more, and I walked into my house just in time to see my parents turn to ash. I turned to run out the door and I was suddenly in Jess’s apartment when her husband reappeared and the gut-wrenching feeling of rejection hit me all over again. One more turn and I was back at school with hundreds of kids pushing past me; completely forgotten, completely alone.

I collapsed to my knees and sobbed. I had buried everything so deeply just so I could function as close to a normal teenager as possible. And now they were thrown back in my face all at once.

Wait. Midtown Tech had tiled floors. These were wood.

Liar.

My sobs turned to sniffles, but I kept my head down. There it was, the whirring. I lightly tapped the ground, and sure enough, it was earth. I slapped the ground and drones started dropping left and right with pieces of rock sticking out of the metal. Midtown Tech was crumbling before my eyes and I smiled.

Of course, it didn’t last very long.

“You bitch.” A remaining drone fired at me but I dropped down and let the bullet fly over my head. Not-Peter’s facade faded and Quentin Beck stood there instead. He grabbed my hair and forced me to look at him. “Let’s make this simple: you can come quietly, or you can come in a body bag.”

A part of me thought he was bluffing. A part of me knew he wasn’t.

“What the hell do you want?”

“You’re going to help me put on one more show.” Before I could move there was a needle in my neck and my vision went black.

/////////////

I was crashing. I had gone too long without sleeping, I had too much adrenaline, and now I was crashing. Karma’s a bitch. You know who else is a bitch? Quentin Beck. And guess who was staring me in the face as I came to.

“Not you again.”

“This is how this is going to work,” he started. “You’re going to make a real Elemental, and then I am going to defeat you.”

“Hell no.”

Beck’s fist connected with my jaw and I swear I got whiplash. “Let’s try that again. You will do this, or I’ll have the drones in New York kill every person you’ve ever loved.”

Fucking bastard. I just got them back, I’m not losing them again.

“What do you need me to do?”

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

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ofxdiamonds · 3 years

Text

[ zendaya & she/her / cisfemale ] watch out, [ diamond bellevue ] has crash-landed into roswell !! they look [ 22 years old ] and celebrate their birthday on [ december 15th ]. they are from [ new york city ], reside in [ moonbeam gardens ] and are currently working as a [ model / entrepreneur ]. one thing you should know about them is that [ she travels a lot for her work ].

trigger warnings: mention of drugs, drinking, eating disorder & mental illness

- B A S I C -

FULL NAME: Diamond Nathalia Bellevue NICKNAME(S): Dime, Di or Dia AGE: 22 OCCUPATION: Model / Entrepreneur. She is a businesswoman, through and through - starting at eighteen, she’s been buying and reselling high fashion and beauty products online, and as of recently she’s now the proud owner of SWAG Dance Studio, and is a well-known fashion-content influencer and creator on social media. BIRTHDAY: December 15th ZODIAC: Sagittarius HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

- F A M I L Y -

FATHER: (Adopted) Winston Bellevue MOTHER: (Adopted) Betty Bellevue SIBLINGS: (Adopted) Four older siblings (between the ages of 26 - 40) CHILDREN: 13-month old son, Andre

PETS: - A Doberman puppy - Cicero

- A P P E A R A N C E -

HEIGHT: 5′10′’ WEIGHT: 120 lbs HAIR COLOR / TYPE: Dark brown / Naturally curly. She sometimes straightens it EYE COLOR: Dark Hazel

- P E R S O N A L I T Y -

(+) Independent, Gregarious, Clever, Ambitious, Resourceful (-) Unrestrained, Wild, Impulsive, Reckless, Sarcastic

She is definitely ambitious and inarguably intelligent, and can find solutions to pretty much any problem she comes across. Yet at the same time, she can also be quite reckless and selfish, and is still very much a child in a lot of ways...which is kind of concerning for her family and loved ones, since she has a kid of her own to take care of.

She parties, drinks and does drugs often, yet still she somehow manages to be responsible enough in her day to day life, taking her work and the care of her son very seriously. Despite her reckless and unrestrained nature, Dime loves Dante dearly and wants only the best for him.

- L I K E S -

Spending time with her son, and their dog, Cicero

Dancing

Exploring different hobbies

Working Out / Going to the gym / Going on hikes and runs

Partying & Drinking

Doing Drugs

Engaging in Flings

Shopping

Photography

- B I O G R A P H Y -

Originally from New York City.

Was born to a teenaged drug addict, and was put up for adoption the second she was born, only to be adopted a few short months later by Winston and Betty Bellevue, an older English couple in their late forties from the Upper East Side of Manhattan who had lived in London with four older children, up until a few years ago when they decided to relocate to New York.

Her father was one of the top cosmetic surgeons in the state of New York, while her mother was a leading patent attorney.

She had a great relationship with her parents, and though her siblings were significantly older than she was, she was still quite close to each and every one of them as well...despite some strong and even sometimes clashing personalities and views. They tended to be overly judgmental at times, particularly with Diamond, given that she was the baby of the family and due to her impulsive life choices. It often annoyed the hell out of her.

She was born with NAS, thanks to her birth mother, and later on when she was just a few years old, she was diagnosed with Bipolar, ARFID and a mild case of OCD.

Dime has always had an aversion to food, starting from infancy and that worried her parents greatly, because she pretty much refused most forms of food. She was diagnosed with ARFID in her youth, but it’s since turned into a full on eating disorder. She hardly eats anything, even when she feels hungry, but when she does, it’s only ever the bare minimum. Her appetite is just non-existent, and she wholeheartedly blamed her medication for a lot of it (though that’s just the excuse she uses to dismiss any concerns).

Despite her weak mental and physical health, though, Diamond led a pretty normal and happy life in Manhattan, with her family.

She was a major hobbyist, even as a child, and so she was always bouncing from one activity to another, easily bored with thing once she’d mastered it and always wanting to try new and exciting things. Dancing, vocal lessons, piano and violin lessons, painting, scrapbooking, journaling, photography, needlework...you name it, she’s very likely dabbled in it.

Dancing, painting and an interest in photography were things she still maintained an interest in. At the age of five, her parents put her in her first dance class and she fell in love with it. She learned ballet first, but quickly grew to love contemporary hip-hop, and to this day, she still danced and could have potentially went professional if the love for modeling hadn’t taken over her life.

She was first introduced to modeling at the age of nine, when she was scouted while in the mall with her mother, and after getting her parents’ consent, Dime was allowed to be signed to the agency and soon she began work as a child model. She absolutely loved it.

Of course, being a child model couldn’t last forever and once she reached 18, she discovered that it was harder and harder to find modeling work, and that the industry was one tough son of a bitch.

More than a little discouraged but not ready to give up on her dream altogether, Diamond decided to attend NYU Stern’s Fashion & Luxury MBA program while also continuing to book whatever work she could get within the city. During this time, in between her classes and the drugs and parties she began to indulge in, she started her first ever business, which was buying and reselling fashion and beauty products online. She’s still doing that to this day.

While in her second year at school, she met an older gentleman by the name of Jared, who worked as a bartender at one of the local clubs that she often went to with her friends. Although never officially calling what they had a ‘relationship’, that didn’t stop them from sleeping with one another quite frequently. It was a casual thing, and it didn’t mean much to her - she just liked the sex and the free drugs and booze he’d often provided her with.

At the age of 19, Diamond discovered that she was pregnant. When she told Jared about the pregnancy, she completely rejected the idea that he was the father, which did not come as much of a shock to her. He’d always been a douchebag, and she kind of expected it. Even so, she was still hurt by it, but refused to show it.

Pretending that she hadn’t been hurt by the rejection and being called a liar, Dime simply shrugged and moved on - after all, it wasn’t like she loved Jared or wanted anything from him in the long run. In fact, she very likely wouldn’t have even bothered to tell him about the baby at all, if it weren’t for her family encouraging her that it was the right thing to do.

Throughout her pregnancy and even after the birth of her son, Andre, Diamond continued going to school, determined to get her degrees. Having a baby young - though not something she had expected - didn’t at all deter her ambitions; in fact, it only drove her to work harder and smarter, wanting to secure some sort of financial success and security in order to raise her son and give him a good life. Much like the one she’d had with her own parents.

She was proud of the fact that her online business was doing exceptionally well with how profitable it really was, and that she no longer had to rely on her parents to fund her; she was now financially independent and that felt beyond amazing.

She also became a successful online influencer, doing modeling, makeup and fashion-related content on Instagram, Youtube and TikTok.

With no luck of getting the kind of modeling work she really wanted in the Big Apple, the dream to become a full time fashion model slowly died over time. Quite saddened upon coming to the realization that it just wasn’t in the cards for her, the young single mother turned her focus on her next big dream: becoming an entrepreneur. Already with one successful business under her belt, Diamond knew it was the right choice in the end.

Once she was finished with her schooling, where she earned degrees in Fashion Business and Marketing, Diamond decided to move from New York to Roswell, New Mexico, to stay with her oldest brother, who’d moved there a few years prior, until she and Andre were comfortably settled and she could find a place on her own.

With her own hard earned money, she was able to buy a building in downtown Roswell and spent a few months renovating it, before only just recently opening her own dance studio, called SWAG Dance Studio.

Despite only just getting her studio up and running, Diamond already had plans for several more future business endeavors that she would likely implement in the coming few years, ever the ambitious young woman that she was.

Still, Diamond never stopped modeling whenever the opportunity of a good job came her way. She traveled constantly - nationally and internationally - and so, had a nanny for Andre and when they weren’t available, her brother would watch him.

- W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S -

Oldest Adopted Brother - Diamond and her son Andre are currently staying at his home in Moonbeam Gardens. Suggested FC: Tom Hiddleston | Age: 37-40

Other (Older) Siblings (who are also adopted) - There are three other siblings, all older than Diamond but younger than her eldest brother. All of them are adopted, so ethnicity isn’t an issue. Suggested FCs: Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Zoe Kravitz, Gemma Chan, Emilia Clarke, Luke Pasqualino - but I’m more than open to other suggestions! (They’d all be between the ages of 26 - 36).

Best Friend(s)

Casual Friend(s)

People she can get high with (i.e., party friends, bad influences, etc.)

Drinking Buddies - people she can rely on to always be up for going out bar hopping or clubbing with. Kind of ties in with the bad influences and party friends.

Dancing or Workout Buddies - She loves to go dancing (she’s a trained dancer) and working out, either at the gym or going on hikes and long walks, so it would be fun to have someone she can go with.

Rivals / Enemies / Frenemies

Neighbors of Moonbeam Gardens

Babysitter / Nanny / Daycare - for Andre

Love Interests and / or Flings & One-Nighters - She’s got a thing for older men, so it would be fun to explore that a bit, in either a serious or casual fashion.

#roswellintro

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funnuraba · 3 years

Text

A Rough Moral Overview of Archie Comics: Teen Propaganda Machine

Part 1: The 1940s

1941: Archie first appears in a small feature near the end of PEP Comics #22. His popularity builds rapidly, with the audience apparently writing in to express immense interest in the short monthly Archie comic.

At first the Archie story isn’t even mentioned on the cover, but Archie himself slowly starts appearing on the cover, always with PEP’s big star at the time, The Shield. The Shield on the cover is at first much larger than Archie, but he shrinks over time, and after Veronica’s introduction, she and Betty start to feature on covers as well. The Shield continues shrinking...

And by issue #49, the magazine is PEP Comics: Starring Archie Andrews! Archie quickly becomes its own imprint, and the only one of PEP’s lineup that survives into the present day. Ads in the magazine advertise an Archie radio show that was spurred by what was a apparently a massive outpouring of interest from PEP’s teenage subscribers. The concept of teenagerhood itself was a new invention dating from 1944. Archie’s reality included things like school, dating, and modern teen problems like trying to maintain a car and deal with wartime rationing.

Also, sending your dog to fight Nazis. (Note: the above are two separate stories; no Nazis ever actually invaded Riverdale. Oscar, Archie’s dog, gave birth on at least two occasions, including during her army tour, and eventually faded from existence.)

At this stage, minstrel-style caricatures of black men appear on occasion in Riverdale (as train attendants and no-account bums who steal clothing out of the trash), and Yellow Peril-style caricatures of Japanese people are a regular fixture in other PEP features like “Captain Commando and the Boy Soldiers”. As a side note, Chinese people are depicted quite differently in Captain Commando. At this point in US history, they were seen as important potential allies in the war against the Japanese. In Captain Commando, they’re drawn like actual humans in comparison to Japanese soldiers. One story shows a Chinese warrior who’s been bamboozled by foolish Buddhist ideals of peace, but finally snaps out of it and gets his followers to join up with US forces in resisting Japanese occupiers. Chinese-Americans were depicted less frequently, but also running in PEP for a time was a rather remarkable depiction (for the time) of a Chinese-American hero: Fu Chang, International Detective. Chinese people would later be collapsed into the Yellow Peril phenomenon in US pop culture and there were some very racist depictions within Archie Comics, but in the 40s there was a different perspective on display for a while.

(Captain Commando and his Boy Soldiers have since lapsed into the public domain; evidently the heroic quality of child soldiers lost its gleam after WWII and reviving the property was never deemed profitable.)

Also in the 40s, many, many stories end with a quite literal punchline in which Archie gets taken out to the woodshed and beaten by his father for causing trouble. This was PEP’s light-hearted humorous fare that apparently spoke quite deeply to a teenage audience of this era. The depiction of corporal punishment is neither “pro” nor “anti”, it’s simply an unavoidable consequence handed down from on high. Archie’s misadventures lead inevitably to physical punishment from an authority figure, no matter how much or how little he’s to blame for things going wrong. Mr. Andrews himself is sometimes a figure of fun during this period, but the 40s and 50s are the time when he most often feels like a self-insert for the writers and artists, who would have been closer to his position in life than Archie’s.

Archie’s position, though, isn’t entirely as the object of abuse. It’s pretty safe to assume that the writers and artists also grew up with corporal punishment and can sympathize with the experience--though they’ve now entered the stage of life where they understand that it was done only for their own good. Archie at the end of these stories is both resentful and rueful; he wishes it hadn’t happened, but there’s no room in the pages of PEP to contemplate a world where it doesn’t have to.

Violence was much more accepted in the 40s, including against the girls themselves--for their own good, in this case, but it’s still jarring to see a man give Betty and Veronica black eyes. Their crime in this case was, of course, being so silly and man-crazy that they nearly drowned him and themselves.

Often the violence was more cartoonish in nature, but it was only in the 40s that you’d see Betty showing up at Veronica’s door with Moe Szyslak’s weapon of choice.

The porter in this panel is one of the kindest portrayals of a black man in this period; the others (and the one depiction of a black woman that I noticed) are frankly unreproducible without heavy content warnings. Also in the 40s, fat and/or ugly women exist only as an object of fun or outright cruelty.

Vague “reducing plans” were advertised in the pages of Archie in the 1940s. This particular method was, as the name suggests, seaweed pills that were also marketed as chewing gum.

You may notice in some stories that the “ugly” and undesirable woman has very nearly the same face as Archie himself; the irony here is very likely unintentional. It’s rarely (seriously) suggested that there’s anything morally wrong with Archie aspiring to a girl much prettier than he is, but an ugly girl expressing interest in any boy is a figure of fun right up into... well, the present day. The Gabby pictured in the panel above her was a semi-recurring character, one of the only plus-size recurring characters ever depicted in Archie. As her name suggests, she was a gossip and one of the undesirable girls, but she was sometimes allowed to be friendly with Veronica or Betty without immediate karmic punishment. She’s also notable because she’s not only one of the only plus-size characters, she’s one of the very few plus-size female or teenage characters. Mr. Andrews, Mr. Weatherbee and Pop Tate all survived the 40s, but Gabby didn’t.

Betty at the inception of “Archie” (the comic) was just Girl. She rather liked Archie and he liked her, and he would try to impress/date her but end up having his monthly funny adventure. But only once Veronica was introduced did she start to gain more dimension, this time as Other Girl. Veronica was rather nice to begin with and it took a short while for them to start getting played off each other as “characters”. There was still little difference. Veronica was always rich and as a result became snooty fairly quickly, but her flaws were the flaws of an object. They existed to create difficulties for Archie, in his struggle to impress her, and Betty was differentiated only by not being snooty.

When Betty and Veronica were allies, it was because Archie had blown it somehow, and they were naturally compelled to be allies by virtue of both being girls. (When they didn’t like each other, it was also because they were both girls, and such was the natural state of being girls.) The panel above--both in the same pose, their identical faces lifted in scorn towards all men--would be echoed in other later stories, whether by chance or by accident.

Their posing in the 40s was frankly pretty ludicrous and transparent in its intentions.

Sexual attraction wasn’t explicitly commented on in the 40s comics in the way we understand “explicit” today, but it’s allowed to exist more openly than in later years. The va-va-voom effect highlighting the breasts would have to become more euphemistic as the decades passed.

In general, there was very little pretense in the 40s.

Artists had no qualms about showing the girls nearly in the nude (I cropped out a panel of Veronica in the bath above), nor about showing adult men leering at them. Even Mr. Weatherbee was occasionally moved by their charms. Generally adult men were “punished” for showing visible attraction, but only in humorous ways. It was more common for the teenage boys to drool over the girls, but the only disapproval shown when grown men did it came from women their own age, playing the role of scold or prudish spinster. There was also the occasional gag in which an adult man was misunderstood as a “masher” or peeper and received undeserved punishment from the supposed target.

There were various write-ups of celebrity activity in the 40s and 50s, and there too the attitudes towards women were pretty much what you’d expect, but even in the late 1940s the realities of life were not entirely veiled from teenage eyes. There was room for what would now be considered adult jokes.

Also in the 40s, Archie cross-dressed, like, a lot, in a way that noticeably vanished once the 50s rolls around. It’s always as a gag, and it’s usually noted that he makes an ugly girl, but in this era it seems to have been an idea that could be poked fun at without threatening the moral fiber of all America by the mere suggestion.

In fact, one semi-famous 1948 story, “The Battle of the Jitterbugs” (reproduced more fully elsewhere) revolves entirely around the girls and the boys competing in a “fair contest’ to see which sex is better at dancing--since boys only lead and girls only follow, it’s impossible to determine who can dance better overall. The obvious solution is for two girls to dance with each other and two boys to dance with each other.

Crucially, the idea is suggested by Reggie, the prankster of the group, framing it as a joke from its inception. Archie, the main character, follows through with it as a means of asserting male superiority. There’s also no possibility that two boys could dance, or two girls could dance, without the conceit of one performing the role of the opposite gender. But in practice, the whole thing does involve a lengthy depiction of two boys dancing together, and indeed, jokingly flirting with each other.

Again, the joke-flirting comes in the form of mocking from Reggie, both en femme and en homme. Archie, the protagonist and everyman, is uncomfortable throughout and finally throws Reggie right out Pop Tate’s door after Reggie goes too far in impugning his masculinity.

At this stage, the usual band of crones step in to punish him for imagined crimes against women, and he finishes the story sitting in bed with a broken leg, making a pronouncement that stands out rather sharply to the modern eye: “Confidentially, Jug! I’m no longer interested in women... or dancing!”

Veronica and Betty are significantly more comfortable with each other. In fact, it’s a rare 1940s story where they don’t quarrel with each other at all! Veronica’s femininity is seemingly unthreatened by the hat and pants, even though Archie Comics would continue issuing dire warnings against women in pants up through the mid-1970s.

It’s hard to imagine they lost after this! The tone of this page is downright celebratory, a rare occasion of early Betty and Veronica working together and coming out the victors of the story, not by one of them winning Archie, but by both of them showing their own skill at something without trying to show the other up. “Battle of the Jitterbugs” is a true rarity in these early years, a depiction of female triumph that doesn’t exactly defy the era’s pop culture as a whole--women were creating their own art even in the 1940s--but it does defy nearly every other Archie story up to the mid-1970s.

#archie comics #archieganda #i couldn't possibly put enough content warnings on this #content warning just about everything

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grimreich666 · 4 years

Text

So, this my part two of everything and as far as I’m concerned if you want to know the rest of my feelings on the matter, check my earlier posts because I’m about done with this right now. This one is a large one to unpack because it’s at the expense of having to go through everything. Now the first time I didn’t include screenshots in my other rants because I was trying to at least be a tad bit decent. Yet after the FAKE STORY weaved by Kwhateverspace who by the way knew that I was going to be angry and take this to my own platform; I would like to address the elephant in the room which is Dandybear aka Betty. Now I’m using her Government Name as she clearly used mine when I commented on her latest and racist chapter of Leave it to the Davenports; and that was disrespectful, and I take that personally as we were not on a first name basis. Now mind you this is not a simple oh she’s mad because she’s more popular theme like Kwhateverspace said as I’ve said this isn’t about me but the detrimental shit Dandy and other put out. Also, her popularity doesn’t affect me because I don’t write on AO3 as I mainly write on Fan Fiction and even then, I don’t do that because I write novels. Also, too I’ve supported Betty’s Fan Fic in the past and I even encouraged her to keep writing when she was feeling mentally drained before, and I asked her if I could use the character’s name Thea which she agreed to so my respect was there. At first, I did admire Dandy’s work, but like the Admins on that channel she does not know how to handle power or popularity.

So, there was no ill intent on my end until Betty disrespectfully brought up my REAL NAME in the comments section of her own story because I was agreeing with a person who saw her fic as racist. This bully but victim mentality was completely unnecessary and nor did my name had to be used, as I had the right to comment on the work she put out. It was clearly set in her mind that I was a villain even though me and her had no intention of clashing before in the past. Now I’ve had hundreds of reviews under on Fan Fiction. Net and I’m too old for that petty old let’s play the victim mess. Also like I’ve said on my video I’ve moved on as a Fan Fic writer and sometimes I do dabble in Chrisby, but that’s neither here nor there as I am a professional novelist first and foremost. My issue with Dandybear is simple she is a racist simple as that, now she changed her racist dialog on the latest chapter because people were starting to drop it and she was salvaging what was left. However, I have no room for sympathy for a racist and people who harbor racist views, now everyone does not have the range to write for a racist period and she is those people.

Yet its not just the fic that had been racist, but about her comments in the Christina + Ruby Server ran by Kwhateverspace and Hernameisjaye that are most alarming as well. As they are clearly racist and the Admins had not done anything but support her mess, even Hernameisjaye tries to lazily question Betty comments but quickly drops it. At the rate in which they kicked me and other members who have done lesser offenses, Dandy’s comment should’ve been an automatic kick. The issue that I have with this is how someone whose an Admin’s causally allows a member to drop a comment that compares Black people to animals; that is something that HISTORY has done to Black people many times as they have called us animals and lesser creatures, even H.P Lovecraft himself called Black people beasts of unknown orgin. Also, it was not said in a not-so-joking-manner so there was ill-intent with it and fatphobia, as women who are heavyset are often compared to Whales, Elephants, Hippos and other large-bodied creatures. This is not something that is decent, and I won’t stand for it and the gross part about it is that the Admins allowed that energy into their room. Yet they kept so much hateful energy for me other members who have done nothing but bring positive and constructive energy into the group; so much so that they lied about the complaints that they received.

Another issue I have with Betty is the issue that she did throw shade at me, as I offered my idea for a Chrisby Fan Fic; and while no one supported the idea like I supported all their ideas I was cool with it as I was mature enough support peoples right to not support my head cannon. Yet the issue I have with Betty is that she tried to critique a story that hadn’t been even written; saying that Christina wouldn’t act that way as a character and that you don’t want to “poke or prod” anyone’s creative process was a clear lie. Like why even comment on a head cannon at all if you don’t want to “stifle” anything, and I haven’t even written it yet. Now I’ve been around business and people before and I do know when off handed comments are dished out; but it was clear that she wanted to stomp out any head cannon I had to make herself look decent as the only one, if so tell me why she takes the comments about her racist fic so seriously. She is one of those people who does not write for herself as she writes for clout, and her ego is centered in that. Personally, I wouldn’t have said anything when she made that comment and I didn’t for the longest, but you could see the reason why I got on You Tube to express my opinion about certain Fan Fic Writers.

Now this is my next one which is a big one the Aunt Jemimah with Tits scandal, I don’t know what Hernameisjaye or Kwhatverspace deems as racist and disrespectful but their priorities are clearly not in the right and they are not on the right side of history. However ,we need to get to the fact that this part of Betty’s story should not be defended or celebrated, and Kwhateverspace defending it on her blog clearly makes her and the discord she is representing complicit in racism. Here’s a little history on the subject. The name of Aunt Jemimah in history and present day is not so much as a respected name when you describe Black folks. Often it is a slur as whites have used against Black people in the later years post-racism and it was a Mammy Stereotype as well in the Racism Era. It even has been used in Hollywood Media as well, to affirm slavery or insult a black person’s character. If you don’t believe me Watch Bringing Down the House with Queen Latifah and Gone with the Wind as the old Mammy Aunt Jemimah issue is used as a racial joke and insult. And while the connection to the brand of Aunt Jemimah and its imagery was made to serve Black Mammy Propaganda that hurts Black Women there is no denial it was used in pre- and post-racism eras. And it’s clear to see that Betty made no connection to it on purpose as the passage in the chapter did not even serve the true plot of the story. Not to mention on a historical level that the woman who was Aunt Jemimah never got paid for her services and she was slave; yet was seen on every box in every home for more than half a century. And even though they changed the woman in later years, it’s not until this year in 2021 that the company is going to remove all black offensive imagery from their boxes. So, the disenfranchisement of Black People would be erased from history like it never happened which adds more insult than comfort; and it was the same with Dandy trying to edit her racist passage within her chapter. These and other facts that I brought to the attention of Hernameisjaye when we had our debate and she threw a hissy-fit and kicked me, because I beat her with facts; but its sick how someone who doesn’t need to know their Black History praised a racist story.

So, for Dandybear aka Betty not to know that something like this would deem as racist is a complete lie; and for her to sum it up in her authors note and say that its no big deal because Christina is racist towards fish people is damn near sick, as you cannot connect the two. Now I the issue I had on the comments section with her, was me letting everything out as I was completely shocked how they could keep a racist in their group and kick out serval educated and positive Black Women who had a civilized conversation with them. Now I did tell her to not respond back to me when things got heated; and yet Betty files a report nearly two weeks later saying I harassed her. Clearly, she kept up mess and I know she did it to make me seem as the bully so she could get away from the heat she caused with her racist mess. And you can see on the email and the time stamp when we got on into it on Ao3, that it was weeks away from each other so what was the point. The part I’m sick of with Kwhateverspace, Hernameishjaye, Danybear, Agentsyerl and others is they start issues and bully up on people and then act like victims when someone stands up to them; its clear that these sad sick women have never dealt with high positions in life or in business. They are the kind of people who look for any kind of victim mentality to seem themselves as competent people and leaders when clearly, they aren’t; and they hide behind “liberalism” and “freedom” and yet they can’t kick out a racist who puts out racist harmful mess in her Fics. And I wouldn’t have an issue with it as it is a time-piece, but there was no solution to any of it; Betty just used a mindless and sneaky way to say something racist and thing she could get away with it under the guise of it being a time piece.

In conclusion currently she says she’s not going to write anymore, I’m happy she’s not because she couldn’t use her words carefully or considerately when it came to race and she offended serval Black Women. There are other white-writers that do time pieces the same and they handle race so well; and I want to name the names and give respect to these wonderful people. However, I don’t want to tie their great work tied to this drama I’m writing, but I will be making a video of my favorite Chrisby-AO3-Fics in the next two videos or so. However as for Betty even if she said something racist and wrote it out, so long as Betty kept it to herself but to POST IT that was a different matter all-together that made me, and others lose respect for her. So that’s why I had to say something because it was talked about heavily in my circle of people and in parts of Tumblr as well; so, I addressed it and called it for what it was, and I won’t stop with any racist fic or person I cross. So, this isn’t about whatever LIE Kwhateverspace is putting out, because its my feelings on the matter and I felt like it was something as a Black Woman that I needed to address; but I refuse to have my feelings marked as some angry black woman troupe, delusional mindless mess, the proof is in the pudding on my responses to their mess. I was classy with my responses to Hernameisjaye and Agentsheryl; and they got pissy and threw a hissy-fit. And I wasn’t going to into it more until Betty decided to put my real name out there, and I’m not for that disrespectful mess. Seriously after this matter this something that is best left in 2020 and I will leave it there and those who show sympathy to their mess you’re getting blocked simple as that. I DO NOT WISH THIS PART OF THE FANDOM WELL FOR 2021, AS THEY NEED TO GO BACK AND DO HISTORY AND RE-VALUATE THEIR OWN SOULS. YET THE MATTER IS DONE AS IT IS LITTERALLY SOMETHING FROM LAST YEAR AND I HAVE PEOPLE IN MY OWN DISCORD TO FOCUS ON. FOR THOSE WHO READ AND SUPPORT ME THANK YOU FOR LISTENING AND SPREADING THE WORD AND MY INVITES ARE OPEN STILL TO THOSE WHO WANT TO CELETEBATE THIS FANDOM. Happy New Year’s everyone.

#ruby x christina #ruby deserved better #ruby baptiste #christina braithwhite #abbey lee #wunmi mosaku #a03

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soyforramen · 4 years

Text

Fred’s Ladder

“A ladder? Seriously? That’s your plan?” Betty hissed. “Where did you even find a ladder?”

Jughead shushed her and listened hard. The sounds from the warehouse thankfully hadn’t changed, still a patter of voices that rose and fell like a song. In all likelihood, they could set off a firework out here and no one would notice, but he had always been a touch on the paranoid side.

“It’s Fred’s,” he whispered. “And it was the easiest solution. Unless you want to knock on the front door?”

Betty rolled her eyes but gestured for him to lead the way up the ladder. As he neared the roof, Jughead slowed to peer into a large window. Bald figures in red following linen darted between curtained areas that ringed the walls, while the rest, still clad in white linen, congregated around a table overflowing with snacks and drinks set in the middle of the floor.

“Well?” she asked from below him.

“They’re just… socializing.”

“What?”

He heard Betty clamber up the ladder for him - witches were definitely not made for reconnaissance, he decided - and pushed at the window in front of him. It opened with a creak but the chatter below hid the noise. Moving slowly, he stepped onto a support beam and slid across it.

“Tea and …” Betty squinted. “Are those macaroons?”

He watched as she stood on the ladder, waiting for her to follow him. Her eyes were sharp, flitting from person to person - no doubt looking for her sister -, but it would be better for both of them if she’d come inside. Jughead beckoned towards her and her face went white.

“You must be kidding,” she hissed.

For all the bravado she’d shown in the little time he’d known her, it came as a shock that something as simple as a crossbeam fifty feet up in the air could stall her.

“We’re never going to get anywhere if we can’t get closer,” Jughead hissed.

“Have you forgotten I’m breakable?”

No, he hadn’t. As hard as he might want to forget that simple fact, that particular worry refused to let him be. Since a vampire’s body was already dead, pain was a foreign concept to it. While Death hadn’t taken away the vampire’s ability to feel pain, it had dulled it into a minor irritation. Except in the unlikely event where fire, massive blood loss, and major bodily damage. Vampires weren’t invincible, but they were a damn sight harder to kill than a human.

And, apparently, a witch.

“I won’t let you fall,” he promised.

Betty narrowed her eyes at him and he felt a pang of irritation. Did she really think so little of him? They’d already spent a week tracking these fanatics down, and yet -

And yet why did it matter to him what she thought. He shook his out stretched hand, ready to drag her through if she kept waiting. Something was about to happen below if the rising noise was any indication.

With a huff, Betty pulled herself through the window. Her hands shook as she reached for the crossbeam and set her foot on it. Struck by fear for but a moment, she slowly crawled the three feet towards him. When she was close enough, Betty wrapped her legs and hands around the beam tight enough her knuckles went white.

Jughead raised an eyebrow and scooted further along the beam. Her stubborn pride, the one he’d grown to know far too well, forced her to scoot along behind him without complaint. When they neared the middle Betty’s hand slipped. Her eyes went wide, mouth open in a silent scream, as her body pitched to the right. It was easy enough for him to right Betty on the beam; the hard part was ignoring her pounding heart throbbing through his ears and warm hand clamped around his arm.

As she steadied herself, he cultists below dropped into a murmur, the crowd growing more and more restless. Jughead stared down at them, willing himself to focus on anything other than the witch next to him. As one the cultists turned towards the large bay doors of the warehouse, the air ripe with anticipation. Betty gripped his arm tighter and he tugged her closer towards him, her knees barely brushing his legs; it wouldn’t do, he reasoned, to have half of their investigative duo scared so witless she failed to pay attention.

The murmur of voices were drowned out when the shipping door opened. Light heralded the coming of something important enough to cause all sound but that of the door to cease. Finally, it opened enough to reveal the shadow of a man with a spotlight behind him. The overall effect was likely to awe and intimidate, but for Jughead it only made him feel as if he should have worn sunglasses.

One by one, the cultists dropped to their knees. Those in red stood in front of their assigned curtains and bowed deeply at the waist, their hands clasped in front of them. Even from this height, Jughead could see several with tears running down their faces at the sight of him.

Satisfied with their debasement, the man stepped inside the warehouse. With a loud click, the spotlight went out, leaving behind a middle-aged man dressed in white linen and Birkenstocks. His clothes were the only thing that connected him with the others; his hair was a brilliant gold, even in the sickly florescent lights above, and his face held a joyous self-consciousness that all the other cultists lacked.

“My brothers and sisters,” the man said, his voice amplifying and folding in on itself. “You are here. We are one!”

“We are one!” came their echoing call.

“I’m sure many of you have questions. Questions about why you were called here tonight. Why you were chosen while so many of your brethren were not.”

He clapped, once, and the devotees rose from the ground. Their eyes never left the concrete floors, though many lifted their arms in supplication.

“You have each been hand picked,” he continued, “each deemed worthy to receive my wisdom. After all, we have each begun to see the light. Enlightenment is within your grasp, my friends, you just have to reach out and take it. Being here tonight is your first step in doing so.

“And I am proud of you for having the courage, the fortitude to be here tonight.”

A pause to let his praise sink over his followers.

“We have begun our ascension!”

The crowed erupted into a roar. Jughead tried to flinch away from the noise. Supernatural hearing was great until a crowd lost its mind in a crowded arena. While it wasn’t as bad as the last sports game he’d been dragged to, it was still worse than the gigs Archie dragged Jughead to.

Jughead glanced over at Betty to find her lips pursed, eyes flitting across each cultist. No doubt trying to find her sister among them. With a pang of guilt, he realized he should look for Archie as well. Though this didn’t seem like Archie’s type of people, Jughead had seen enough weirdness this past week to know that nothing was out of the realm of possibility when it came to this cult.

Once the jubilation slowed, the man held up his hands. The crowd dropped into an unnatural silence that left Jughead’s ears ringing. He had to strain to hear even a single breath.

A woman slipped from behind a curtain to stand next to the man, her arms full of red scarves. Betty’s hand loosened from his arm, and Jughead glanced at her only to find her lips set in a narrow grimace and her eyes narrowed. That pinpoint focus of hers had returned with a vengeance and it was all due to the appearance of that woman. Jughead made a mental note to dig up anything he could about her, and returned his attention to the task below.

His hand, as if by its own volition, slipped around Betty’s waist. His thumb slipped through her belt loop and, with a light tug, he reminded her of his presence. Betty’s heartbeat quickened again.

“The next task we ask of you might seem strange, brutal. Savage, even. But I would not be asking this of you if I did not believe you were capable.

“There are reasons for what we do. You may not understand them, or even see them, yet. Rest assured, my brothers and sisters in arms, this is necessary for your ultimate enlightenment. This is the first step to our glorious end!”

A shout of joy came from those clothed in red and was picked up by those going through this strange initiation. With little prompting, those in white began to form a line, livestock lining up for the chute, each in turn stopping in front of the charismatic man. He would lay a scarf around the neck of the devotee, and in thanks the devotee would drop to the floor and kiss each of their leader’s feet in return. The devotee would then be lead to stand in front of one of the curtains to wait for some signal. It took almost thirty minutes for each to be draped in red and the anticipation in the room only grew the longer it took.

Once red slashed around each person’s neck, the man raised his hands for the last time that night.

“Children. Light of my heart. Remember that what you are about to see tonight is shocking. But it is also the truth that has been hidden from you behind a veil of secrecy. For the truth is, we are not alone in this world!”

Impossible.

“Creatures of darkness.”

No.

“Myths and legends who walk among us.”

This couldn’t be happening.

“Feed on us. Prey on us!”

Jughead’s stomach dropped. The only enforceable rule of the underground was complete ignorance of humans. Be they witch or fae, seer or were, each were taught from childhood that any human who discovered their existence, who threatened their existence, was to be destroyed. Stories persisted of towns disappearing for coming too close to the truth. When sightings and curious happenings couldn’t be explained by drugs, hallucinations, or cryptids, cities lost blocks of people. All across the world, the underground knew how precarious its existence was.

And he himself had been taught from death that humans were never to find out about any of them. And it had been a lesson he’d learned well. The smell of his sister’s hair still clogged his nostrils, the screams of his mother echoing in his ears. And all because he couldn’t bear to stay away.

Jughead shoved those memories out of his head - how many years now had he spent trying to atone? - and refocused on the scene below.

“What we were taught to be scary stories. Fiction. Lies! These creatures who lived under your beds stand among the rest of the world. They lurk on us. Murder us. Deceive us! But I will pull the veil from your eyes and show you what this world really is!”

He raised his hands, and each curtain was pulled back. Over a dozen metal tables came into view, a corpse on each. Just as in Curdle’s lab, each had been flayed open from chest to navel, the cavernous contents of their bodies on horrifying display. A gasp ran through the crowd and several stumbled away only to trip onto the floor. From this height, it was difficult to tell the identities of who lay on the tables, let alone what, but Jughead had a sinking feeling that he could guess.

Jughead forced himself to look at each table, his eyes looking for that shock of red hair. There were fae, two land, their bark like faces in twisted sneers; a water and an air fae, both deflated and melted in comparison; a were-cat caught mid-transformation, patches of skin still showing through the dark fur; several that looked far too human to be any of the underground except a witch, or perhaps humans to show the differences; and there, on the far end, a werewolf. It’s body was far too small, it’s hair far too dark, to be Archie.

A tragedy, of course, but not one personal to Jughead.

“She’s not here,” Betty muttered, her eyes glued to one of the human like corpses. “But all of these…”

It was hard to take in. Barring the ban on human knowledge of the underground, this was the first time Jughead had ever seen their kind dead at the hands of humans. As many divisions as their may be among the people of the underground, they were all of the same opinion when it came demons and humans.

With growing discomfort, they watched as the humans peered, prodded, and poked at their brethren, some giggling with anxiety, others taking copious notes. Each held a line of tension in their bodies, fear that they were not as alone as they were lead to believe. Whoever this man was, he held enormous power. Not only over his people, but also over the underground. He was now one of the most dangerous threats they’d seen since the time of the crusades.

“What do you think they’re doing with them?” Betty asked, her voice soft. The line above her brow was creased, her lips parted slightly. Puzzling, no doubt, over this sudden impossible wrench in reality.

“Examining them. Studying them.”

He remembered the fae laying on that table, modesty no longer afforded to it. Fae custom required the dead to be burned and scattered across their birth land. Earth returning to earth; air to air; water to water. Now their dignity had been stolen away, and it was doubtful they’d ever find peace again.

“Do you think they still have …”

“All their parts?”

He shrugged, the movement catching his thumb on Betty’s belt loop. He shifted her closer, unaware he was doing it until her legs ran up under his on the beam. She shifted to swing her knee around to look at the curtains behind them. Jughead’s hand tightened. He didn’t know if he feared her sudden fall, or the image of her on one of those medical tables below.

“No clue. The real question is how they found out about us?”

Betty let out her breath in a huff, the smell of chai latte with oat milk and extra cinnamon wafted across him, and glared over her shoulder.

“One of us must have told him.”

He glanced over his shoulder where the man stood watching over his flock. Next to him was that same woman, her curly hair hanging limp around her shoulders. She looked to be human, as did he, but looks were fleeting when it came to the underground. Jughead cursed. He knew he should have eaten a second time before they’d come. If he had more information it would be so much easier to puzzling this out, and the sound of Betty’s heartbeat wouldn’t be drawing so much of his attention away from the matters at hand.

They watched for over an hour as the initiates went from one table to the next, their instructors pointing out differences and similarities. After the initial shock, the study of the bodies became routine. Each devotee took a morbid interest in each creature, crowding around the corpse with little to no shame. It was hideous, and not for the first time Jughead wondered how widespread this cult was. Surely someone in the underground knew about this. Secrets never stayed secret for long.

Betty shifted on the beam next to him, restless as he was. The inability to do anything about this, to exact revenge, to extinguish the sacrosanct knowledge these humans had, made his teeth itch.

“How long do you think they’ll do this for?”

Jughead shook his head. “All night. Each group’s been by every table at least three times by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were drilling the information into their heads.”

“But unless they’re planning on cutting everyone they come across open seeing us like this doesn’t teach them anything. The fae and were’s especially. They never go anywhere looking like that.”

He shrugged. “Maybe that’s the point. Make them aware that we exist and then prove that most of us are just like them. On the inside, at least.”

She hummed, drumming the tips of her fingers against her leg. The motion shimmied its way up her thigh and into her hip, echoing through Jughead’s hand. His stomach growled, hunger pains chasing down the movement, and Betty raised an eyebrow.

“How can you be hungry seeing this?”

If he could have blushed, he would have. It was clear she didn’t have any familiarity with vampires - outside of their lust fueled tryst, at least - or she’d have pegged the source of his hunger immediately.

“I can always eat,” he muttered. Sullenly, he turned back to watch the cult and refused to say anything more until long after they’d left despite Betty’s protestations.

#bughead #bughead drabble challenge #not a drabble!#i phoned it in on the last bit and you know what?#so #i'm cool with that

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