i miss this good time with good people

I made eye contact with a cute girl a couple of times today, and got to hang out with some good people, and it put me in a good mood. But now, I feel somewhat down. There’s a girl. Not the same one, but another girl who has this weird, beautiful, creative mind. There’s probably something about her everyone would want to emulate in themselves, and I think everyone would: want her, want to go out with her, or want to be her friend. I find myself missing her, and that’s the part that sucks. Missing. 

Started cleaning up my inbox (never done that before) and some thirty deletes in melancholy struck. I had to stop. So many deactivated blogs. Good people, gone. Only leaving memories. Good memories, though now somewhat hurting me through said melancholy. 

It’s funny though, I was far more communicative when we still sent each other letter-like correspondence. Gosh, there were so many examples of deep conversations. I don’t know why the instant messenger isn’t the same to me. Don’t think I’ll clean that inbox up any time soon. There’s a lot to miss.

Putting Lipstick On A Pig

by reddit user Pippinacious

Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.

I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If the art was that good people would see it anyway. Without the artist needing to reblog it 100 times

I see you’re stemming from liv’s @larvesta own answer about this and I’m not gonna lie, I’m really hesitant about saying anything on the matter bc i don’t do this kind of thing but I realise people actually think this way so here’s a proper answer. 

It doesn’t work that way. I should know, I should really know. People here on Tumblr get lucky often and you wouldn’t think that, especially if you don’t create content yourself. Things just don’t become popular all of a sudden, most of the time it needs to get reblogged by the right person and add the balance between having good content yourself as well as an ongoing status as a creator. Not to mention how you go about treating your followers, your personality and how you act here. And you’ll tell me; “But people with good art have so many notes! It must be because they’re good! See, you don’t need to reblog it so many times!”

I hope you know what it feels like to be an artist here because I do. I especially do. I have talked, reblogged, supported, and have met so many, too many artists here, some insanely obscure. Some whose work looks like it took so many hours and has very little over 50 notes; my work included. And I can tell you now that I can personally handpick and tell you that some of the work I’m most proud of and have took many hours on are not over 200 notes. I’m not saying I’m frustrated by that, because some of us are reassured in our skill but let me tell you that every time I think of a fellow artist out there who releases amazing art and earns very little notes who looks at their note count and wonders if they are good enough, my heart breaks. And there’s young artists who are still getting by, who are not as good yet but took the same amount of effort and time, they deserve to be cheered on. 

Because people think artists here are machines, capable of creating content without regards to who actually appreciates it. No one is like that, artists are fragile just like everyone else and people really forget that. They really do. 

People don’t just see the art out of nowhere, do you understand the huge amount in this platform? There’s millions of work everywhere, you need to be supported to be seen, you need to withstand the thousands of others around you and you might have to create something that’s away from the norm to stand out, you might have to take hours of your time. You don’t know unless you really indulge yourself this platform, you don’t know unless you yourself do work for more than four hours, no breaks and absolutely tired, and look at your note count to see a disheartening number. You have no idea, you really don’t.

And don’t guilt them, please. I could reblog my art so many times, but sometimes the thougt of ‘maybe it gets annoying’ always bears in my mind, artists are made to feel like it’s okay that they’re not being appreciated. I’m proud of those who reblog their art because they know they deserve better, and guess what? They do.  

There’s a difference between good content and popular content, popular content aimed towards a specific audience that you know will like and reblog that. Good content is a dangerous hit and miss. I really appreciate people who do art for things that are not popular, because sometimes they really do have to rely solely on their skills. I say it’s a dangerous hit and miss because you know it might not have that specific audience, but you still take the effort and time into it anyway. Imagine that; knowing something is popular but going for the alternative anyway; taking time, taking effort, putting your all into it. That’s absolutely insane, man. Imagine knowing you can put that time and effort into something popular that might attract way more notes, but still doing something else for the sake of that something else. 

Also there’s the matter of timezones, in which there’s a worldly concept that everyone is in different times and not everyone is here at the same time to see the same content. I don’t want to explain this; please at least understand the concept of time. 

Artists reblog their work because they want others to see it, to appreciate it. Because sometimes it’s the only way others can. Reblogging their own work is an artist’s way of supporting themselves and you think I’m going to let you let them think that that’s a bad thing? That they’re not allowed to do that? Go home, buddy. 

I don’t have anything against anyone, I just wrote this realising that people actually think this is actually how it works and even then, I don’t have anything against you, maybe you’re just misinformed, some just don’t know enough about this to really understand. 

So here it is buds: support artists supporting themselves. It’s as simple as that. 

i keep trying to memorize every detail of the moments i live in. in the soreness of my legs from standing so long at a concert, the chill of the night, the patterns of a tablecloth, the oily texture in my mouth after eating fried bananas. i keep trying to memorize the feelings, the quiet contentedness, the laughter, the excitement. i keep trying to memorize the people, their smiles, the way they speak, what makes them laugh. i’m constantly on the cusp of the next part of my life and that’s just so.. strange. but it makes it so much easier to find happiness no matter what’s happening to me, in a way? because i’m already kind of looking at life with those rose-colored glasses of nostalgia, simply because i know these are times i’ll never be able to live again, and these are people i might not always have, and that makes it so much easier to appreciate everything i might miss later. 

don’t turn away

i did that once and lost a country 
and then lost the language
to name the loss


i don’t have a name,
just a lot of empty places on a map

and everything that has happened to me
has happened inside my own head

i waited for someone to show up and tell 
me i was forgiven 
but i made myself impossible to find
and then i made myself impossible

and of course the war never ends for people like us.

whatever was lost is gone for good this time.

i know because they didn’t show up in even the good dreams.

i’ve been so many people;
forgive me.

if i can’t look you in the eye 
it’s because i’m scared you’ll see in me
only what’s missing. 

i know every border is made up of nothing but hands
that take and take 
until you’re not the same person
you were on the other side

and i know that land can be sick with amnesia
until the only thing inherited
is the
forgetting.

(i belong to that failing memory,
and all the names i forget
are mine.)

(i belong to the words that escape me
in both languages. )
—  Y.Z, inherited memory loss
6

Making History | 1.01

Leighton Meester as Deborah Revere

Sometimes I’ll be sitting in my room, perfectly fine, and then I just get slammed by this wave of loneliness and I hate it

Headcanon, Danny has ADHD

Okay, maybe it’s because I have ADHD and I like seeing fictional characters that are like me, but hear me out here.

-He has mild inattentive type, more commonly known as just ADD, (no hyperactivity)
-It’s mild, so he doesn’t NEED medication, but maybe he should. He’s not going to though. I’ll bet he hasn’t even been diagnosed.
-Absent-mindedly touching the inside of a high voltage broken machine while walking in? That’s something I would do.
-Hyper focus would definitely help him while fighting.
-He’s really smart but gets bad grades, even when he studies. He finds studying subjects he doesn’t like to be really hard. See: Teacher of the year
-He seems to overreact to some things and has pretty strong emotions. This doesn’t happen with everyone that has ADHD, but it can be an effect. He screams a lot even when he should be used to what is happening. Call me crazy, but it feels like Tucker and Sam are a lot less vocal in battle than he is.
-I don’t think he means to let Sam and Tucker take a lot of blows and let them take the blame. I think he just has slightly less impulse control than the average person and isn’t good at thinking consequences through.
-ADHD can be hereditary and if you think there is absolutely no possible way that Jack has ADHD or a similar illness then I don’t understand your logic.
-Also there’s that theory floating around that ectoplasm is mildly radioactive and/or Maddie being around it while pregnant could have some kind of effects on her kids. This could have led to Danny having a slightly underdeveloped prefrontal cortex, which is what causes ADHD.
-He’s bad at dodging. I too have spaced out during situations where I should have been dodging and either saw the thing coming at me and for some reason didn’t move or just didn’t think about it and got hit. However, when I’m having a good day I’m really good at it. That’s how Danny can honestly say he’s “a whiz at dodgeball” and still get hit as much as he does.
-He’s really smart but misses obvious things. He also thinks out loud a lot. This is something my brother and a few other people I know who also have ADHD do as well.
-A lot of people with inattentive type (including myself) have a hard time making and keeping friends. Will often have either no friends and a few acquaintances or one or two really close ones.
-If you believe the trans Danny headcanons, that can explain why he hasn’t gotten help yet. It’s a lot harder to recognize and diagnose ADHD in girls and people that were socialized as girls.
-He comes up with puns and insults on the spot. Neurotypicals can do that too, but when you have ADHD, your brain often makes seemingly random connections a lot faster than the average person. This helps with making spur of the moment puns and solving mysteries. Remember how he figured out Spectra was a ghost?

So, yeah. That’s my reasoning. I just honestly think that him having ADHD clears up a lot of things about his character. But, I’m not a psychiatrist. I’m just one guy that has ADD. This is just me speculating.
Uptown Girl [4]

Summary: Y/N comes from one of the richest families in New York. Peter crushes hard on her but knows they could never happen.

AN: everyone’s been so incredibly sweet and i can’t thank you enough for reading my work <3 there will be one last part after this one :) (this is in reader’s pov btw)

[Part 1]  [Part 2]  [Part 3]

Peter Parker x Reader

// Masterlist //


Originally posted by dayaholics

“Peter! Stop!” I whispered.

“Stop what, Y/N?” Peter asked innocently. I reached underneath the table and held his hand. 

“I’m serious. You’re gonna get us in trouble.” I gave him a warning look and just gave me a goofy smile in return. 

“Well, you should be quiet.” He pulled out his hand from mine. I shook my head and continued to do my homework. Everything was okay for a good 2 minutes, when Peter’s hand reached out and tickled my side. I let out a loud squeal which made everyone in the library look at me badly. “Sorry.” I whispered. Everyone turned back to what they were doing.

I turned to Peter who was quietly laughing into his hand. He didn’t even stop when I slapped his arm. 

“You’re such an ass!” I said in a low voice. 

Keep reading

10

WWII Gay G.I.s recounts tale of losing their Lovers

Excerpt from the book Coming out under fire The history of gay Men and Women in World War Two: Combat soldiers often responded to each other’s personal losses with the deepest respect and understanding, allowing gay GIs to express openly their grief over the death of boyfriends or lovers. 

Jim Warren’s boyfriend was hit while trying to knock out a machine-gun nest on Saipan. “They brought him back,” Warren recalled, “and he was at the point of death. He was bleeding. He had been hit about three or four times. I stood there and he looked up at me and I looked down at him and he said, ‘Well, Jim, we didn’t make it, did we.’ And tears were just rolling down my cheeks. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt such a lump and such a waste. And he kind of gave me a boyish crooked grin and just said, ‘Well, maybe next time.’ And I said, ‘I’m going to miss you. And I’ll see your mother.’ There were people standing around, maybe seven or eight people standing there, and I was there touching his hand and we were talking. Somebody said later, ‘You were pretty good friends,’ because I had been openly crying and most people don’t do this. I said, ‘Yes, we were quite good friends.’ And nobody ever said anything. I guess as long as I supposedly upheld my end of the bargain, everything was all right.”

Ben Small was even less able to control himself when his boyfriend was killed in the Philippines. But he, too, was surprised by the other men’s compassion towards him. “We had a funny freak attack of a Japanese kamikaze plane,” he recalled, “and I guess he was getting rid of his last load of these baby cutter bomb, these little bombs that explode at about three feet high so if they went off through a tent they exploded at bed level. I had just been in the tent of a guy I had been going with at the time. He crawled into bed, and I said goodnight and walked out the tent. And this plane came overhead and all we heard was explosions and we fell to the ground. When I got up too see if he was all right, the trust of the bomb had gone through his tent and he was not there. I went into a three-day period of hysterics. I was treated with such kindness by the guys that I worked with, who were all totally aware of why I had gone hysterical. It wasn’t because we were bombed. It was because my boyfriend had been killed. And one guy in the tent came up to me and said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were gay? You could have talked to me.’ I said, ‘Well, I was afraid to.’ This big straight, macho guy. There was a sort of compassion then.”

After a raid in the Philippines, Ben Small remembered, a lieutenant who had been injured was being shipped back to the States, so the men “all went to the plane to see him off that night. It was an amazingly touching moment, when he and his lover said goodbye, because they embraced and kissed in front of all these straight guys and everyone dealt with it so well. I think it was just this basic thing about separation of someone you cared for, regardless of sex.” Small described this tender parting as “a little distilled moment out of time” when men’s “prejudices were suspended” and gay soldiers “could be a part of what this meant.”

So I gave myself a sad on the way home from work. I’m not masochistic (or sappy) enough to write all of it, but I’m sharing a bit, anyway.

(Implied spoilers for episode 103.)

*

The third time Percy dies, it’s an instantaneous thing. Maybe the whole process has changed somehow in the last 60 or so years, since the last time he did this. Whatever it is, he’s grateful for the lack of drama. 

Keep reading

TINY STORIES IN BETWEEN 

“I’ll look after Simon,” he says. It feels wrong, but: All that he has ever wanted to do is look after Simon. 

(raphael dreams and it’s heartbreaking)

ZINNIA

Elaine studies him quickly, and Raphael almost thinks that the lie is coming undone. Unraveling, just like everything else in his life. The Clave wants to burn him alive. Camille wants to kill him. The clan is divided. His family is in danger.

(raphael has mom feels in regard to elaine, I’m sad af)

BURNIN’ ON THE EDGE OF SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

“Be careful, fledgling.” He warns, resting his hand on Simon’s face. He holds his cheek in his hand delicately, like he doesn’t want to hurt him.

(raphael + casual touching. he’s not as obvious as he hopes)

THE FEELING

He was okay with it. With being alone, with feeling the emptiness in the place his heart used to be in, with feeling nothing.

Until it stopped being fine anymore.

(raphael pov in how simon changes him, 339 words)

CLOTHES

Raphael just enters his room when he’s not there and grabs a few of Simon’s shirts from his closet. Purely out of spite.

(they’re very petty in this and it’s adorable)

LET US GO, YOU AND I

“I couldn’t go out in the daylight,” Raphael reminded him.

“Yeah, of course you couldn’t. I’m surprised you’re here at all, since there’s a death order put on me, may I remind you.”

“Simon…”

(sweet post dust and shadows fix it, 674 words)

NO TIME TO REST, NO TIME TO FORGET

But he couldn’t show weakness in front of others, not when people were so eager to use it against him.

(raphael working out his post-betrayal feelings with magnus)

I HOPE THERE’S AN US IN EVERY UNIVERSE

Talking to this Raphael, to the Raph Simon could’ve had if he hadn’t screwed up, makes him miss his Raphael. He just wants to go home and fix it.

(featuring 50′s!human raphael + saphael fluff)

TOO GOOD TO BE GOOD FOR ME, TOO BAD THAT’S ALL I NEED

“That was a bit forward,” he managed to breath out, before his face broke into a grin. “Do it again.”

(saphael fluff + first kiss)

ALGUNAS COSAS SON DEL DESTINO

“Um,” he turned to whisper directly into Raphael’s ear. “I’ve mentioned this before, but they still don’t know. About us. Jace probably thinks you hate me.”

(secret relationship fluff)

A MOMENT LIKE THIS

“Yes, I understand your threats. Now, if you don’t mind…” Raphael looked pointedly at Luke’s hand that still gripped his shoulder. He ignored the werewolf muttering Simon was right about the jackets.

(god this is precious. raphael asking for luke’s approval to date simon)

SAFETY NET

Simon is the only one who makes sense. Raphael has fallen in love, hard, he knows this much at least.

(many different saphael kisses)

JUST DIED IN MY ARMS TONIGHT

He had fangs out and had bitten into his wrist without so much as a second thought. Camille had given Simon enough of her blood to be obsessed with her but was it enough to save him?

(missing scene when raphael was carrying simon to clary/jace. oh my heart this boy fell so hard)

MONKEY

“So….you kissed me.” He eventually said, slowly looking up.

(featuring aggressive!simon + making up + first kiss)

DISARM MY HEART

He’s so beautiful and Simon wonders how it took him so long to see it.

(raphael kisses simon for the first time & simon was not expecting it)

JUST A NUDGE IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

It wasn’t too hard to figure out the other’s whereabouts because Raphael was quite used to being aware of Simon’s by now so he could easily find him, even in this loud environment that smelled of way too many different people and partly magical ingredients for drinks.

(matchmaker magnus and magic mistletoe, bless him)

THE BEST DAY

There was no denying that Simon did enjoy this new level of intimacy in their yet to be determined relationship and it felt like Raphael presenting himself to his fledgeling in such a vulnerable position, trusting Simon to take the lead, he fell even more for the gorgeous clan leader and he had been head over heels for the guy for quite some time now.

(saphael smut + an accidental love confession)

JEALOUSY DOESN’T SUIT YOU (BUT THE AFTERMATH DOES)

“Jesus Christ,” Simon tugged him into his chest and kissed him. They moved together for a few seconds before separating. “Calm your shit.”

(I’m a sucker for jealous!raphael so naturally, this is incredible)

CENTURIES OLD

Raphael falls in love with him in every life, and Simon doesn’t remember.

(reincarnation!au that broke me)

WEAR MY HEART A LITTLE LOUDER

“I wish I could say that you’re my home.” Simon blurts out unthinkingly. He looks to see Raphael’s shoulders stiffen, his body going very still.

(01x13 missing scene that made me cry, fluff + angst. also the title…nnnghh my heart)

IN BLOOM

“Simon”, She says her voice a bit teasing. “he’s your soulmate, write to him on your flesh.”

(soulmate!au where words appear on your soulmates skin, I cried happy tears)

IF THIS WORLD WON’T LAST

He had a chance, and that chance was ripped away from him by Camille. He warned Simon. He warned Simon. He warned Simon. This is his fault.

(raphael in the building with dead!simon, I love being dead :’) )

LIKE A HALO IN REVERSE

He would give Simon anything.

(You feel everything as a vampire.)

(I have no heart left after this one, it’s shredded. religious!raphael + smut with feelings)

FOREVER IS OUR PROMISE (AND YOU BREAK IT LIKE GLASS)

It was on a night when it was Raphael’s turn to be ‘educated’, that things got weird.

(incomplete/WIP  that tells the story of how they fell in love and apart, I cried. another title that breaks me)

RHODODENDRONS

Raphael does the unforgivable act of touching him. Grabs his shoulder like they’re something close to friends again. It hurts more than the cross ever would.

(episode: A Door Into the Dark from raphael’s pov. he is so soft and hurting. I’m aching)

2

I spent my evening with people that I have known since I was 14, back when I was awkward and spent more time with teachers at social events than other kids my age. I was shy and focused all my energy into school work and sports to ignore what I felt about myself. People that have known me since before I came out as a lesbian, then queer, then trans. I hadn’t seen them since I started this transition and I was pretty nervous, but the night was perfect and exactly what I needed. Only positivity and love and goodness. The people in your life that matter only want you happy, and even as time passes they stay the same consistent rocks you can count on. tonight I was very happy, sharing that happiness with people that I count very dear to me and missed very much. ❤

the “why do wtnv tweets sound like such good prompts” prompt meme

because seriously these all sound like amazing prompts to me and you can just go send me some right now

  1. You miss 100% of the bank robberies you don’t commit
  2. A partial list of things currently inside of you: blood, skull, ghost.
  3. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. And after that, the to-do list is complete and I can go home and watch TV.
  4. If at first you don’t succeed, look around and find out who is trying to sabotage you with telepathic interference. It is someone you know.
  5. Let’s have a heart to heart. Here’s mine, and here’s a knife.
  6. Refer a friend to existential despair and get a free extra year of life that doesn’t matter.
  7. A man walks into a bar. The bartender does not see him. No one sees him. The man died years ago. It is cold in the bar.
  8. Are you being followed by wolves? Take this quiz to find out.
  9. Believe in yourself. Go to a church that worships you. Attend study groups that analyze your words. Argue with others about your existence. 
  10. It’s always darkest before the dawn, we are often reassured by people who are totally wrong about how the sun works.
  11. Missed connection: We lived and died on opposite sides of the world before international travel was possible. Good. I would have hated you.
  12. Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you will have plenty of time to regret your hubris as you drift for infinity through the void.
  13. There’s no way to avoid becoming a statistic. Just try to become a good statistic. 
  14. If you’re happy and you know it, you’re wanted for questioning.
  15. It’s okay. From far away, you are merely a speck. (From very close up, you are an alien landscape of flesh. Very, very close up: giant atoms.)
  16. Don’t let numbers tell you what to do. You are blood and earth, not theory and chalk.
  17. Current mood: Incandescent swamp gas.
  18. The same math that makes it almost impossible for us to be alone in the universe also makes it almost impossible we’ll meet any other beings.
Underrated SNS Fics

Here’s a list of excellent fics that flew under your radar:

Trails by teacett

Longing by teacett [incomplete, pls give the author some encouragement]

  • Both fics are part of the same series; unique premise, great characterization, gives u feels, modern AU

More Than Just Rumors by Drunk_Scribbler [incomplete, but still updates]

  • Great plot, characterization, and well-developed relationships, modern AU

Offerings by Rockability

Cat People by Rockability

  • Realistic, fluffy, canon-compliant, amazing characterization

mb gay by BELDR0P

  • smoll drabble that gives you big feels

A Chance at Happiness by Nomme_dePlume

  • lots of pining, slow build, good characterization, very realistic modern AU

the b-sides by fan_nerd

  • modern AU with time-traveling Naruto… A M A Z I N G

Here is WHY you missed out on the good stuff: 

Check my bookmarks on AO3 for other recs; these are just a few of the best ones. All of these fics (except More Than Just Rumors) have under 200 kudos. (Srsly, wtf??) Some have fewer than 100 kudos even though they’re really good. 

To find good fics, don’t just sort by kudos. Quality fics often have 5 kudos or more per 100 hits. High quality fics usually get 7 or more kudos per 100 hits. 

Example: Fic with 65 kudos and 400 hits? Probably excellent

Fic with 250 kudos and 7000 hits? Usually not that good

When searching for fics, fill out the other fields, then go to the work stats section and specify a maximum number of hits along with a minimum number of kudos, like this:

The results will contain all fics with less than 1000 hits and more than 50 kudos. I repeated this process with 2000 hits, 100 kudos, then 3000 hits, 150 kudos, and so on, to find all the good stuff. 

People overlook a lot of gems because they just sort by kudos. Good fics end up at the bottom of the stack. Quality content in fandoms becomes harder to find. Talented writers get discouraged by lack of feedback. You know the drill.

Searching with a ratio of kudos-to-hits fixes this problem…. Kind of. 

We should also rec, review, bookmark, whatever, when we come across good fics. Silence is the number one reason some of the best writers abandon their fics. I am tired of finding A Really Good Thing™ that was last updated in 2008 because readers were too lazy to provide an iota of feedback. We can’t go back in time, but we can keep it from happening again! 

Right?

*crickets*

I’ll take that as a yes. 

So. Rant over. Happy hunting, everyone. Hope this helps!

A Tale of Two Cities Characters as Tumblr quotes

Sydney Carton: “I don’t care,” I say caringly, as I care deeply

Lucie Manette: cinammon roll too good for this world, too pure

Alexander Manette: some people??? make shoes???? to cope??????

Charles Darnay: I came out to have a good time and I am honestly feeling so attacked right now

Stryver: Fellow of Delicacy™ – old timey version of Nice Guy™

Miss Pross: Don’t ever talk to me or my ladybird again

Mr. Lorry: Me, an intellectual

Madame Defarge: i’ll kick anyone’s ass. i’ll kick your ass. i’ll kick your dog’s ass. i’ll kick my own ass

Self Conclusion (Chapter Three)

Self Conclusion (Chapter One)

Self Conclusion (Chapter Two)



“Jughead, please!” Betty pleaded, racing down the stairs after him.

He was struggling to pull on his flannel over the shirt he had borrowed from Betty. “Fuck you! To think, I was going to open up to you! I should’ve known,” Jughead spat as he reached the bottom of the staircase. He tucked his pants and t-shirt under his arm.

“Jughead, I know how it sounded. I swear, I wasn’t talking about you,” Betty’s chin quivered.

“I was stupid enough to believe you once,” Jughead said quietly. He slipped on his shoes quickly.“See ya,” He said, opening the front door.

“Jughead,” Betty begged. Tears threatened to spill over. “We were talking about Archie, I swear. I promise!” Her voice cracked. “Please don’t go.”

Jughead stopped in his tracks, letting the door close towards him as he hesitated in the doorway.

“I wouldn’t talk about you that way,” Betty said quietly. “This isn’t a joke to me.”

Jughead turned slowly towards her. “Why would you say Archie’s pathetic?”

Betty chewed her lip. “He tried to ask out all three Pussycat’s one after another after Veronica turned him down. He tried to make it out like she was the one who was doing - well,” Betty sighed. “Anyway, that’s the gist of it. I’m sorry you overheard that. Please come upstairs, we can talk some more.”

Jughead wordlessly closed the door and slipped off his shoes, following Betty up the stairs.


Betty sat on her bed as Jughead lingered in the doorway.

“Do you… want to keep asking questions? Since we didn’t finish?”

Jughead laughed coldly. “Alright, sure, blondie. Tell me, why do you want to fix me so badly?” Clearly, his walls were back up.

“I don’t want to fix you, Jughead, you’re not broken. I just don’t want you to kill yourself.”

“Well, you’ve got forty-five and a half hours to change my mind. Tick-tock.” He stepped out of the doorway and crossed his legs, plopping himself on the floor.

“My question?”

Jughead raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you stop talking to me?”

“What are you talking about?” Jughead asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“In seventh grade. You just stopped talking to me and Kevin and Midge and you barely talked to Archie. Your Dad lost the house and you moved to the trailer park and Archie had to force you to talk to him. And when we tried to talk to you, you just - you refused.”

“I didn’t refuse, I-”

“You pushed us all away, Jughead!”

“I was twelve years old and my family was falling apart and we lost our house and moved into a trailer park. Plus, I was trying to help take care of Jellybean - it was all I could do to get up and go to school and do my homework, I - I couldn’t deal with trying to explain everything to my friends.” Jughead said angrily.

Betty nodded slowly.  "Okay,“ She murmured.

“So why does the perfect girl next door want to kill herself?”

Betty blanched at his question.

“Well? You said no question off limits, right?”

“I’m not perfect. Don’t call me perfect.” Betty curled her fingers towards her palms, making tight fists.

“That’s not an answer,” Jughead murmured, staring up at the ceiling.

“My sister’s pregnant, in high school, and the father of that baby has been murdered. My dad hardly ever comes home at night anymore. I confessed my feelings to someone who didn’t feel the same way, and while that is all well and good, he is now trying to date my other best friend. I feel like I’m trying to hold my family together. Half the people I know think of me as perfect so I can’t do anything wrong.”

 Betty took a deep breath. “And the other half bully me - Cheryl Blossom told me I was too fat to join cheer-leading last year, Reggie Mantle asked if I was going to join the ranks of my sister and get pregnant in high school, random people I don’t even know call our family crazy. There is so much shit going on in my head I can’t take it. I don’t even know when the last time is that I had a good day. So, no reason to stay is a good reason to go, right?”

“Won’t you miss milkshakes and french fries and sunrises?” Jughead asked sarcastically, using Betty’s reasoning against her.

“Yeah,” Betty said, her voice thick with emotion. She took another deep breath, trying to suppress the feeling that she was about to cry. “You know, for me, it’s more like this overwhelming feeling like I’m at a party where I don’t know anybody, and I’m exhausted and bored and all I want to do is go home.” A tear slipped down Betty’s face.

She flicked it away. “Anyway. My turn - what’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?”

“I’m homeless,” Jughead murmured.

“What?” Betty asked incredulously.

“Well, I was homeless. My mom left with Jellybean a year or so ago and my dad started drinking more heavily and lost his job with Fred, and eventually I got tired of his shit. So I slept at the Drive-In. But, as you know,”  Jughead rolled his eyes. “The Drive-In got shut down. So I slept at school for a bit. A few weeks ago I moved back in with my dad, I didn’t have any other choice. I’ve been there since he got arrested, but who knows how long I have til they realize I’m alone…”

“I-I’m really sorry Jughead.”

He shrugged.

“Your turn,” Betty prompted quietly.

“Same question,” Jughead murmured, finally tearing his eyes away from the ceiling to look at her.

Betty didn’t say a word, just uncurled her fists and showed Jughead what she had done.

Jughead slowly reached towards her upturned palms. He dropped his hands without touching her.

“I can relate.”

“Yeah?” Betty said quietly.

Jughead rolled his long flannel sleeve up towards his elbow. An angry looking red mark was on his forearm. Another one, less fresh but just as painful-looking marked his wrist. “When my dad gets drunk, he gets angry. He takes it out on me a lot.”

Betty touched them gently. “Jughead,” Betty breathed.

Jughead pulled his arm away.

“I’m sorry,” She murmured.

Jughead shook his head. “’S okay. There’s lots more where they came from,” He chuckled humorlessly. He stood up and pulled the t-shirt up so she could see the burns on his stomach and chest. Some were half-moon shapes, some were full circles, some big and some small.

“What are they from?”

“Cigarettes and cigars. The half circles are from when he threw them and they didn’t quite make their mark.” He let the shirt fall back in place.

“Okay,” Betty said, standing up. “Why don’t we stop the questions for a while? I could make a late dinner? Or order a pizza.”

“Pizza sounds good.”

“What do you like on your pizza?”

“Anything except pineapple.”

“I thought you ate anything?” Betty cocked an eyebrow.

“I’d eat it, sure, but that doesn’t mean I like it.” Jughead smirked.

“So what would you like on the pizza?”

“Pepperoni, green olives, onions and mushrooms is my favorite, but most people don’t like ol-”

“No mushrooms and I’m sold.” Betty smiled.

“Deal,” Jughead murmured.


Jughead took the last bite of his crust and rubbed his stomach. “That was amazing. What now?”

“I have an idea,” Betty smiled. “We both pick one of our favorite movies that we don’t think the other has ever seen. What do you think?”

Jughead nodded. “Okay. Let me think.” He crossed his legs. “Have you ever seen Murder by Death?”

Betty smirked. “No, I’ve never even heard of it.”

“That’s my pick.”

“Have you ever seen An Affair to Remember?”

Jughead smiled. “I have, I love that movie.”

“You do not,” Betty laughed.

“I do! I have a soft spot for old romantic movies.”

“Okay, what about The Notebook?”

“Oh, no, no, I said old romantic movies. Not this new wave of  Nicholas Sparks rom-com bullshit.”

“So, you’ve never seen it?”

“No.”

“Then that’s my pick.”

Jughead groaned.


The two of them were on Betty’s bed, the only light in the room the glow from the TV. The end credits rolling for Murder by Death.

“What did you think?” Jughead asked, straightening his legs, stretching.

“It was really, really good actually. I love Alec Guinness. I didn’t really understand the end, though.” Betty admitted.

Jughead explained it, his whole face beaming.

“I’ll have to watch it again,” Betty laughed.

“We could watch it instead of The Notebook,” Jughead laughed, cocking his eyebrow.

“No way,” Betty smiled, scooting off the bed to put her well-used DVD into the machine.

By the time Allie and Noah were lying together in the street, Jughead was hooked. There was a smile playing on his lips.

Betty leaned back against her pillow, next to Jughead. Her eyelids felt heavy.

Jughead felt the warmth of her body against him, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen - as much as he was going to hate to admit it, he was really into the movie - plus, her bed was small, not much space for her to move without touching him.

As the end credits rolled, Jughead had to bite his lip to keep the tears from slipping out.

“Wow, okay, I was wrong. That was good.” Jughead stared at the screen in front of him. “What, no ‘I told you so’?” Jughead looked down at the tiny body next to him.

Betty was fast asleep, her head resting against his shoulder, even breaths making her shoulders rise and fall. She had a fistful of his shirt.

“Oh,” Jughead breathed. He  couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked.

He carefully, slowly, reached for the remote for the TV and turned it off, leaving them in complete darkness. He rested his head gently  against hers, not wanting to wake her.

His heart was hammering in his chest, making it impossible for him to fall asleep. After a moment, he felt her stir, her hand reaching out against his abdomen to pull him closer to her. Her fingers lingered on his side as her breathing returned to the rhythmic pace it had been a moment ago.

Jughead felt all the feelings he had tried to pacify for years racing back up to the surface.