Hi my name is Edward Steeldick Elric and i have long golden hair that i wear in a briad (that’s how people recongize me) and yellow eyes like lemonade and a lot of ppl tell me i look like my dad (I FUCKING HATE HIM DON’T FUC K IGN SAY THIS TO ME, I’LL BLOCK YOU PREPZ). i’m not related to riza hawkeye but i wish she was my mom. I’m an alchemist and I’m also a huge badass. look at my metal arm. fuck yeah. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. for example today i was wearing a red coat with flamel’s cross on it, black lether pants and a matching black shirt and red and black bootz. i was walking through Central Command when i saw roy mustang staring at me. I put up my Middle fingr at him.
“If I have fun dress on and at night I want to go out, I’ll just put a lether jacket on top of it. Booties are also a major go-to for me. I wear a lot of booties. Those cango from day-to-night as well. With my schedule, I’m running around all day every day, so it’s nice to be able to have things that can be interchangeable when the sun is up and when the sun is down.”
@TAYRAE515 ASKED: OK SO DON’T HATE ME BUT I HAD ANOTHER IDEA! COULD YOU DO ONE WHERE YOU ARE ONCE AGAIN ARCHIE’S YOUNGER SISTER AND YOU AND JUGHEAD ARE REALLY CLOSE FRIENDS SO WHEN HE BECAME A SERPENT YOU WERE AROUND THEM A LOT AND BECAME FRIENDS OF THE SERPENTS AND BECAUSE THEY TAKE CARE OF THERE OWN THE OFFER YOU A JACKET TO AND ARCHIE AND BETTY AND THE GANG FIND OUT AND GET UPSET, THEY FEEL LIKE THEY ALREADY LOST JUGGIE AND DON’T WANT TO LOSE ANOTHER FRIEND BUT YOU JOIN AND IDK FLUFF? JUGHEAD X READER. 💕💕💕
Could you possibly write a continuation to My Little Serpent please? Preferably where Fred finds out about the Reader becoming a Serpent and how he responds, also maybe him, Archie and the others finding out about the reader and Jug’s relationship. Sorry if it’s too much!
I found your blog and I love everything on it. It’s so amazing!!! Are you planning on doing a part 2 of my little serpent? If so, thatd be amazing!! I hope you have a fantastic day c:
The whole night you spent on that couch. He would say things to calm you down but your tears would not stop. He wouldn’t give up though. He would hold you in his arms stroking your hair and back in attemts to relax you. “It’s ok Y/N. It’s gonna be alright. You can stay here for as long as needed. You know the serpents love you. I love you,” he said. You stopped crying after he said that and you just stared at his face. “Yo-you love me?” You asked surprised. Jug didn’t reply so you took matters in your own hands and you kissed him. You kissed him with so much love you had never shown to anyone. “I love you too,” you uttered before the boy took you in his arms bridal style and run to the bedroom playfully as you laughed. He seemed so happy you said that, so he through you on the bed and run to the window and opened it. “My little serpent loves me back,” he screamed repeatingly so every one would know.
Warm sunrays hit your face that beautiful morning, removing you from the comfort of your much needed slumber. You were locked within a pair of strong arms that, took you a minute to realise, were Jughead’s. One of them was firmly wrapped around your waist, while the other was placed underneath your head, comforting it as the muscules worked as a pillow. It was a moment to savor but you were cut short when the events of the previous night hit you like a brick wall. You moved a little and stared at the jackets resting next to the double bed. One was huge, enough to cover your body down to the knee, meaning it was Jughead’s. The second was smaller. It was a little bit longer than a normal woman’s lether jacket but it was indeed yours. You started feeling uneasy due to the memories of the things said between you and your brother to the point hot tears begun streaming down your face. You didn’t take notice that Jughead was awake and watching you until he softy kissed your expossed neck and turned you around, pulling you close to his body, hugging you as if you’d be gone.
A knock on the door was what took you out of that beautiful moment the two of you shared. You thought that whoever it was would leave and come another time so you could cuddle some more, but the knocking was prominent, leading you to the conclusion that it was importand. With an annoyed groan your now boyfriend made his was to the small kitchen/ living room, where the door was placed, and opened it not asking who it was. You heard a manly voice but you did not know who it was, until you heard yelling as well. “Let me see her Jug. She’s my sister,” the voice said. “No! She practically cried herself to sleep last night because of you, Arch. Hell, she woke up this morning and the first thing she did was cry,” Jughead argued back to the reportively red headed boy before him. “I am sure of that and that’s why I’m here. I want to apologize,” he pleaded until you walked to the scene, nodding for Jughead to let Archie in.
After Archies apologizes things seemed to be a little bit calmer. You returned home with him; leaving the jacket at Jughead’s obviously, trying to figure out how to tell your dad that you were one with the so called criminals of the town. You were sure he would not be very happy about it. But you did have to tell him eventually, i wouldn’t be a secret for ever.
It was a cold night and Jughead had taken you from you house to go on a walk, meaning to walk to the Whyte Wyrm, cause it seemed that that’s were your walked always end up. You were holding hands and talking about everything and anything as you reached your first stop; his trailer. You wanted to take your jacket from there, not only to shield you from the cold wheather, something Jug was doing on the way there, but also because you enjoyed the vibe it gave you. After picking it up you made your way to your actual destination and walked in with no second thoughts.
You knew almost everyone in the bar and everyone was actually so nice. There were a couple of guys that walked up to you, hugged you, informing you how glad they were you accepted their signature jacket and more. Some even came up to you and refered to you as the “Serpent’s Queen”. You found it funny and stupid as you were no queen, but rather a simple high school student spending too much time in the ‘wrong’ side of town. But they insisted, which was very sweet. Still you couldn’t understand why.
The night unrolled smoothly and it was time for you to go home. Once again Jughead would walk you there. You were actually so caught up in the conversation that you forgot about the jacket, and you walked inside your house with it on. “Dad, I’m home,” you called after seeing your dad by the kitchen island. “Hey, sweety. Would you mi- What are you wearing?” He asked slightly mad. “Well I’m pretty sure I’m wearing what I was before leaving the house earlier,” you replied sarcastically, laughing a bit at your dad’s reaction. Archie was by him watching the scene and trying to inform you that you were still wearing your Serpent jacket. “Shit,” you mumbled under your breath when realising that. “Is that a south side serpent’s jacket that you’re wearing?” Fred said walking closer to you and inspecting the item. “N-no?” You stated, more like questioned. “Y/N, what are you doing with a serpent’s jacket?” Your father asked as he gently pulled you to the kitchen, where your brother was watching the scene unfold. “It’s Jugheads?” You once again guestioned-stated, trying to find a good explanation to feed your dad with. But it didn’t work. “Y/N Y/M/N Andrews, the truth,” your father demanded, aggravated of you lying. “Ok, look,” you sighed. “I’ve spent so much time in the Southside with Jughead that the serpents feel me as one of their own.” “You are not, for God’s sake. Take that jacket of, now.” “Dad no!” you protested. “They care about me. They are family. Did you know they had one of their own to take care of me? Because your dear son and his friends can not understand when things are to dangerous? Huh? Did you? Did you know how your lovely son has been dragging me into every single one of their problems and ‘adventures’, putting my life in danger? “ you yelled at your father, completely livid at what had just happened. “Go to your room, darling. Sleep. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You are seeing red now and you just don’t know what you are talking about,” he requested trying to clean your angry tears. “No. I’ll go to Jughead. You should have a little talk with Arch here. Maybe you’ll actually get informed about how many times this year they’ve put my life in danger. Without telling me, or asking me to help,” you replied and run into your room to call Jughead. “Hey, it’s me. Can I sleep over? Yeah? Great. Pick me up? Thank you. Yes. Just hurry.” After you hung up you started packing a little bag with some essentials. You had no intentions on coming back until Archie admitted to his actions.
Jughead indeed hurried to pick you up, scared that anything would have happened to you. He was relieved to see you just fine but he was confused when he saw your packed bag pack. “What’s that for?” He questioned when he started the car once again. “I was curious if you minded me staying at yours for a little while,” you confessed. Jughead was shocked but tried to hide it. “Just for a couple of days. Until my brother stops being a prick.” You added and he laughed a bit. “You will always be welcome, baby,” you smiled at the nickname given to you by the raven boy. For a moment nothing mattered. Seeing that you didn’t reply, Jughead turned his head to check on you and you softly smiled up at him. “I love you,” he quietly mumbled, placing his free hand on top of your thigh. “I love you, too,” you said back, taking it into your small arms and fidgeting with his fingers. After that everything was calm. You soon reached your destination and Jughead quickly allowed you to enter the warm and cozy home. Swiftly, he picked you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom, where he allowed you to change after giving you a big sweatshirt of his and a pair of his boxers. He simply removed his clothes, revealing his underwear and then pulling a T-shirt over his head. “Come here,” he ordered after resting his body down on the comfortable mattress. You obligated and moved close to his open arms, where he embraced you in a hug, keeping you there for the rest of the night.
When the morning came around and the warm sun embraced the two of you, Jughead just pulled you closer to his body, lovingly, as if you’d leave if he didn’t, both of you still in deep slumber. A few stray hairs were covering your calm face, your lips slightly parted as your head rested in the crook of his neck. His right arm was firmly wrapped around your waist as his other hand was resting on top of your head, caressing it in his sleep every now and again. It was a moment to savor for anyone watching, but not for long. A loud thud was heard from the kitchen/ living room and footsteps were making their way to the small bedroom. You were still sleeping but Jughead woke up when a deafening gasp came from the surprising visitors. Archie, was one of them, and he quickly let his anger take over him, screaming at his friend. “Not here. She is sleeping. Let’s go outside,” he suggested and got out of the bed, making you wince at the lost of contact.
“What’s gotten into you? Why were you and my sister like that?” Archie begun and Jughead got ready to reply. “Arch, stop,” Betty burged in. “We both know you were trying to avoid it but it would happen and you knew it,” she reasoned. Jughead seemed lost but quickly caught up with the two. “They are finally dating and you should be happy for your sister.” She said smiling warmly at your boyfriend. “You don’t understand B. My sister became a serpent because of him. She’s slowly drifting away from me,” he confessed looking down. “You are taking her away from me,” he whispered to Jughead. “I am not Archie. You are pushing her away. You simply need to accept she is her own person. You will not always be able to make decisions for her.” He said and smlied warmly at the red head. “He’s right, Arch,” you commented entering the small living room where the red head was, accompanied from the blond girl and the raven boy. “You will not always be there to make decisions for me. But I appreciate you try,” You added hugging your brother. It seems that for once, things were good.
Black dogs are a common tradition attached to many locations, most often appearing black and shaggy, of enormous size, with eyes like saucers that glow in the dark, but sometimes invisible, with their presence only detected from the blast of their hot breath and padding footsteps.
By the time these traditions were recorded, some confusion between originally distinct sorts of manifestations may have set in, for in some tales, Black Shuck (or Shock) seems more like a shape-changing bogey. Now and then he takes the form of a calf, and on one occasion appeared with “a donkey’s head and a smooth velvet hide.” Black Dogs commonly haunted lanes, footpaths, bridges, crossroads and gateways - all points of transition, from ancient times held to be weak spots in the fabric dividing the mortal world from the supernatural. Shuck often appears as a phantom, and Black Dogs are generally thought to be connected with the pack of spectral hounds that accompany the Wild Hunt. Perhaps they were originally psychopomps - escorts of the dead on their journey to the underworld. Certainly they sometimes act as “fetches,” appearing as portents of death and disaster.
This would explain a certain ambivalence in attitude towards Black Dogs, which in some places are disposed to be friendly, acting as guardians and guides to lonely travelers. While in Suffolk Shuck is usually harmless if let alone, in Norfolk none can set eyes on him and live, again a characteristic of the Wild hunt. It is in this demonic character that he first appears in print, in an old tract by Abraham Fleming (d.1607), entitled “A Strange and Terrible Wunder Wrought very late in the Parish Church of Bongay” which details that on Sunday, August 4th 1577, between nine and ten in the morning when most people were at church, there broke over Bungay “a great tempest the like whereof hath been seldome seene” with cracks of thunder that made the church “quake and stagger.” Hard upon this there appeared what to the congregation a great black dog (“an horrible shaped thing”). “This black dog… running all along down the body of the church with great swiftnesse, and incredible haste, among the people.. passed between two persons, as they wee kneeling uppon their knees, and wrung the necks of them bothe at one instant clean backward.” Passing another man in the congregation, the dog gave him a frightful burn, “that therewith he was presently drawn together and shrunk up, as it were a peece of lether scorched in hot fire; or as the mouth of a purse or bag, drawen togither with string.” This man survived, as did the church clerk, who was outside cleaning the gutter when a violent clap of thunder knocked him off his perch. In proof that the dog was not a hallucination, says Fleming, “there are remaining in the stones of the church, and likewise in the church door which are marvelously rented and torn, ye marks as it were of his claws or talans.”
The Black Dog visited the nearby town of Blythburgh on the same day, appearing upon an overhead beam in the church, then leaping down and killing two men and a boy, and burning someone’s hand. Both here and at Bungay his activities sound suspiciously like the effects of ball lightning, which is told entered a church during a tempest in about 1649, “killing many.” And indeed if we look in Holinshed’s Chronicles (1577) we find the events of Bungay narrated without mention of the Dog. Fleming’s timing is slightly different than Holinshed’s, as is his list of casualties, while the way he describes the man shrunk up “like a peece of lether” as believed to be “yet alive” suggests that he had a local informant. To this informant we could owe the Black Dog: in other words, Fleming might be telling us what the people of Bungay thought of the event which to Holinshed and the outside world was simply a “strange and terrible tempest.”
But, it has to be said, Bungay’s apparition is not unique. A pamphlet entitled “The Wonders of this Windie Winter” had already appeared in 1613, telling of a Sunday in a Kent church during a tempest, when people were at evening prayer, there “broke into the Church a most ugly shape or the air like unto a broadened bull.” This apparition struck the minister’s left arm, leaving it blackened and paralyzed, and in the stampede that ensued, a miller was killed. After that, the bull vanished, taking with it part of the wall. All this, it is implied, came about because people would talk in church. Even setting aside bulls and Black Dogs, was there simply a good tale making the rounds within these communities?
Whatever the truth, a standard erected in 1933 concludes with its inscription:
All down the church in midst of fire The hellish monster flew; And passing onwards to the quire He many people slew.