True-blues

Where The Wild Roses Grow

Summary: When Jughead becomes an active member of the Southside Serpents, him and Betty are starting to grow further and further apart, as the boiling volcano of Riverdale’s Civil War is threatening to erupt in full force. Can a heart to heart with Alice Cooper and an old Serpent jacket give Betty and Jughead the hope they both need?


(This is huge so grab snacks and drinks. The Bughead scene ruined me. I apologize for all of this. Warning: full angst and sin ahead! I’m not describing it as much anymore cause after the Jughead I saw in the finale that’s a given but still, after I post this, I’ll crawl under my covers in blushing embarassment.😂 Here you go, lovelies! I hope you enjoy this! ❤️)


“On the second day he came with a single red rose

He said, "Give me your loss and your sorrow?”

I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed

“If I show you the roses will you follow?”

The snow is slowly melting under the heaps of rain and so is her will to contribute to life these days. The icy scenery that adorns Riverdale gives out under the rays of sun that stubbornly peek through the pine trees and white oaks, ridding their leaves from the coldness of nature, only to become shiny droplets of clear water that hold the whole kaleidoscope of colors, just like tears and their colossal scale of emotions. He is the ice, she is the stubborn sun; that’s what he tells her through the sad darkness of each night that they lay together but further and further apart. He says it as a compliment, in the most sullen John Wheelwright fashion, but she accepts it gladly as her fingers form infinity signs over the crackling ice of his golden heart. Her hair is golden too under the dim moonlight, it’s a match made in heaven, and she vows that tomorrow she will try to burn hotter than the December sun over the patches of snow that are menacingly trying to turn him into a lifeless statue. And she does. But not today.

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#its true the blues liked the reds long before the feeling was mutual#especially church and tucker

Eeeeehhhh new post cause I don’t wanna hijack the post these were left on but I don’t agree with these tags and wanted to make a post about it. No they didn’t get along as smoothly as they do in the later seasons, but just off the top of my head:

  • Season 2: Lopez immediately hits it off with Sheila
  • Season 2: Donut and Caboose become fast friends, even though Donut had been taken prisoner by the blues at the time.
  • Season 3: Sarge shows a soft spot for Caboose after Battle creek; let’s him press the button to activate the hidden microphone (“what a little rascal”).
  • Reconstruction: Grif urges Caboose to “keep going, dont worry about us” as their jeep is hit by the “emp” and stalls.
  • Relocated: Donut treks accross the desert to Valhalla by himself, nearly dying of dehydration to get help for Tucker.
  • Recreation: Grif and Sarge both accompany Caboose on his mission to rescue Tucker (admittedly they had their own motivations for doing this as well but its worth mentioning they agreed to help a blue to rescue another blue).
  • Revelation: Church and Grif casually greet each other (“Hey Grif,” “Hey, what’s up man?”).
  • Revelation: Sarge, Grif, and Simmons all go with Caboose and Tucker to rescue Church and Tex from the Meta, even though statistically they expected to die doing it.

So like, the Reds have liked the Blues, at least some of the time, since SUPER early in the series, just as the Blues liked them. Honestly these losers are all so bad at disliking the other team, it’s almost easy to forget they were supposed to be fighting each other.

Rejoice*

for @ellenya (surprise!)

When life is all a tad bit glum
I like to come on tumblr, for a certain larrikimn,
A fellow Aussie writer, who ya may well know,
That like the Back of Burke, we have a long way to go.

For Ned Kelly, Phar Lap, and The Great Don,
Legends of the past and poets named Henry Law-son.
How we love our sunburnt cuuuntree, as I have writ-ten,
Even when the maggies swoop and the deadly spidies, have bit-ten.

A land of mount-in ranges, dusty red earth and raaaainbow ser-pint,
Of rugged long ‘orizins, dried up rivers, due to the ozone laya,
and Bells Beach, summers spent avoiding sting-raya.
The myths of tall poppies and of true blues,
Out yonda, by a truckie or a garbo or a cuppala youse. (don’t forget to dodge the roos)

This poem does no justice for the poet of the pen,
Who 'appens to have a name, that may be Ellen,
The soul of this cuuuntree ’(h)as songs, vast in fear and debt,
And I cannot keep up with this tempo, yet,
It has grown legs of its own, like a daddy-long,
floatin’ around in a Billabong.

How to sum up, all the gifts that youse, share
Bringing quiet joy to all, who have the priv-lige to sit and stare,
Like a frog in a sock* or a blowie in beaut, nevermind the ute,
With Red Dog sitting at the  wheel, Triple J rockin’
Agree, with me, this poem is really quite shockin’!

*Taken from Stray-yan Nashinall Anthim