When I was younger
I was taught that soldiers fight in wars.
I was taught they wear green uniforms,
and that you can spot one from afar.
Then I grew up,
and found out by myself,
that this description of a soldier,
couldn’t be more narrow.
Soldiers do, indeed, fight in wars.
But they don’t always wear green uniforms.
Sometimes they wear short skirts,
and are trying not to blame themselves for it.
Sometimes they wear jeans and tights,
and are trying to keep their lunch down.
Sometimes they wear loose pajamas,
and are trying their best to get out of bed.
Soldiers do, indeed, fight in wars.
But you can’t always spot them from afar.
They blend in,
and seem like the most normal
person in the world.
They blend in,
and you could never guess,
that they’re in the middle of a war.
soldiers don’t always fight wars
that we know of.
Sometimes - often, actually,
soldiers are people who are fighting the wars
we know nothing about.
a soldier would sit right next to you,
wounded, tired and afraid,
and you wouldn’t even know.
10, 11, 14, 50, 55, 84, and 98 for the unusual asks
10) How would you describe your style?
uhhhhh…. In terms of fashion, if I’m trying: hipster/indie i guess, if im not trying: pajamas/jeans and a sweatshirt. in termsof art…. hm…. cartoony bullshit????
11) Favorite social media account?
haha Tumblr for sure. I really like Twitter too tho but I like Tumblr the most
14) If you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? Why?
somewhere in the country, preferably (like rural, not just specifically the US. actually, i’d rather it not be in the US. ugh.) maybe northern NJ. I like it there. It’s kinda forest-y and farm-y. me like. OR I’d live in France. but definitely in the country there too.
50) What was the last text you sent?
I texted “oh my god“ to my brother lmao
55) What is your dream job?
I guess I don’t have a specific one. I’d love to either be a graphic artist, a professional illustrator/ comic artist or whatever, a voice actress, or a biologist. I could always be all those at once, tho. A voiceartologist. ok maybe not….
84) Chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?
Chocolate sprinkles barely taste like chocolate so I’d rather have rainbow. who doesn’t want something more colorful anyways? also cuz gay and rainbow. yes. very good.
98) Favorite month?
October probably… because Autumn, and Halloween, and Emi’s b-day, and my fam’s annual trip to Knoebels (a little amusement park here in PA). oh and my brother and sister in-law’s wedding anniversary!
The morning after the storm came all too quickly. Waking up knowing that a suspicious boy was staying on your property without your parents knowledge was nerve wracking to say the least. You didn’t think Jughead was a threat to your life anymore, but you also didn’t trust him completely, not to mention that you barely knew anything about him. Getting out of bed you changed out of your pajamas and threw on jeans and a sweater to brave the morning ahead of me. As quietly as possible, you made your way down the staircase to see Jughead, for the second time in 24 hours. If your parents had known that you were sneaking out to see a boy that was literally living in your backyard, they would kill you; so of course the fuzzy heel of your sock slipped on the slick wooden stair, causing you to fall flat on your back midway down the staircase. Cursing to yourself, you waited a minute to see if you had awakened your parents, but luckily, no sound or stirrings came. You looked at your house shoes from last night, soggy and caked with mud, and groaned. After some searching, you pulled your old rain boots out from the dark depths of the coat closet, and turned the handle to the door. ‘What if he isn’t even awake yet?’ You thought to yourself and decided that if there were to be a time to talk to him and get his clothes washed, it would be now. You crept through the grass, glancing up at the bedroom of your parents, and sighed of relief at the closed curtain.
Your hands and arms struggled to lift the weight of the storm cellar latch, but after what felt like an hour of trying, the heavy door finally gave in and opened. With every step you took down the stairs to the final barrier between yourself and the curious boy, your heart rate continued to rise. You began to calm yourself with the knowledge that he was Archie’s friend. Your dad worked with Archie’s before he got his current job, and so Archie had become a regular occurrence in your life for quite awhile. You worked up the nerve to knock on the thick metal door, hoping Jughead would hear you. Thankfully, he did. His disheveled hair peeked out from every angle of his wet beanie, but his outfit was eerily dry and familiar.
“I see you found the spare clothes in the closet.” You smirked, looking at the pajamas that were about two sizes too short and three sizes too wide for Jughead.
“Morning to you too. My clothes, they were really wet and it would’ve been really uncomfortable to sleep in them, but I’m sorry. I can take them off right now actually.” Jughead said, looking down at his frame and tugging at the sides of the top.
“God, okay. First of all, stop!” You exclaimed, before he could get his shirt over his head. “Second of all, wear whatever you can find in here. Although I will say that I’m not sure that those clothes are your size. Those pajama pants are practically pajama shorts.” You laughed, looking down at his bare shins.
“Yeah they are quite disproportionate, aren’t they?” He said, a smile forming on his face. “But it could be a look, you know? Jughead Jones, fashion extraordinaire. No one would see it coming.”
Both of you chuckled at his humor and you sat on the cellar bed. “How was your sleep?” You asked, swaying your feet off of the bed, back and forth.
“It was the best sleep I’ve had since the drive in closed. That’s where I was, where I was staying before it, you know, closed.” Jughead’s smile faded at the memory of the drive in closing weeks prior.
Your heart broke for him. You stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder in support. “You’re a really strong person, you know that? I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. I’ve been so lucky with what I was born into, and I feel like such a complete ass for complaining about your family in chemistry.”
“You didn’t know, Y/N. And your situation doesn’t discredit the fact that your parents are the embodiment of evil.” Jughead gave me another small smile and turned to his backpack, perched on the cellar’s dresser. He pulled his wet clothes from the handlebars of the dresser and stuffed them in his bag, which he then threw over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” You asked, confused and worried.
“Leaving?” He responded, looking equally as confused.
“Why?” You questioned, as though he had just presented an outrageous idea.
“Y/N don’t look at me like that. Look I’m beyond grateful that you let me stay here last night, but this can’t be a permanent situation. Sooner or later you would grow attached to the idea of having a ‘tortured boy’ living in your backyard, and I would get used to having my own place and a pretty girl talking to me everyday. And then we would get caught and it would ruin everything. So just, I need to go.” He explained as though what he had just said was a common understanding.
“You think I would get attached? To You ? Listen you are reasonably attractive, sure, but you are so moody, and I can’t handle that. And also, I don’t think of you as some ‘tortured boy’. I don’t have time to nurse a human being back to health, mentally or physically, so you can get that concept out of your mind Jones.” You declared, irritation creeping up through your bones, and into your body.
“There’s something else, too.” Jughead broke eye contact with you and began to knock his feet against one another.
“Something else what?” You shook your head, puzzled and still incredibly frustrated.
“I’ve been watching you for awhile. Since before I was homeless. Since chemistry actually.” His voice began to trail off but there was no mistaking his words.
“What do you mean? You’ve been stalking me? For two years?” Your breath picked up and the same fear you had felt the night before resurfaced.
“No! God Y/N, it’s not like that! I walked by your house one day while I was on my way to Archie’s and I saw you through the window arguing with your parents. At first I didn’t think much of it but then when I saw you run up to yourr room crying, something changed for me. You weren’t just a girl at school anymore. I know it’s stupid and that you could’ve been anyone but you reminded me of my family and I couldn’t look away. It was like a story to me. My story.” Jughead was pulling on the fringe of the pajama top as he spoke and you could tell that he was beginning to become extremely unsettled and exasperated.
“That’s why you asked about your family in chemistry. I thought you were just making small talk. I thought I was burdening you with my repetitive stories. But you wanted to hear them? Did that not hurt you emotionally?” Your shock was evident as you spoke, and it was obvious that Jughead noticed.
“It hurt me at first. I would walk by your house once a week on my way to Archie’s and after a couple of months, you stopped crying when you fought with your parents. I watched as you stopped caring about pleasing your parents. I watched you become stronger and more broken at the same time. I watched you dance around in your room after a fight to release the adrenaline that it had caused in you . You gave me hope, Y/N and I…I” He struggled to get out the last words, and you sat back on the bed in shock at his disclosure.
“What Jughead? What else?” You spoke quietly.
“I fell in love with you .” Jughead’s voice trembled as he said the words, and he sat on the dresser, burying his face in his hands. “And I know. i know that you didn’t experience the same thing. I can tell that you don’t trust me at all. I know that I don’t know as much as I should about you , and that in many ways, I know too much. But I do. I love you . And I can’t stay here. It’s not your fault. I just ca-” You cut Jughead off before he could speak another word.
“Jughead.” You called his name and his face lifted up from beneath his hands. “You’re right, I don’t know much about you . And I didn’t watch you through a window for three years - and yes I still don’t completely get that. But Jughead I don’t trust anyone. It’s not about you . It’s about my family. And I liked you in chemistry. Maybe not the way you liked me, but I spilled stuff to you about my family that I’ve never told anyone.”
“Y/N, I appreciate that you’re trying to let me down gently, but it truly just makes it hurt worse. I really can’t be here anymore. I’m sorry.” A tear rolled down Jughead’s cheek as he got up to go. It was you grabbing his arm this time.
“Juggie…” I said quietly, my voice weak. He turned around to look at me and it was obvious that he was on the verge of crying at my use of the nickname I would call him in science. His eyebrows raised as if to ask me what else I could possibly want from him.
“I want you to stay here. You deserve a home. I can’t let you go back out on the streets or to a homeless shelter.” By the time the last words came out of your mouth, you were tearing up. At the sight of you crying, tears began to stream down Jughead’s face. You had never seen a guy your age cry before, and the drops trailing down this boy’s face broke your heart into pieces.
“In chemistry, two years ago, I wanted to be your friend. I used to go home and think about asking you to hang out, as friends, but I didn’t think you liked me. You were the only person to listen to my problems and attempt to give me real advice. And you always found ways to cheer me up.” You smiled at the thought of the stories about his strange childhood he would tell you when you were sad.
Jughead just looked at you, his eyes red and puffy, as you spoke about your fleeting friendship two years before. “Y/N, I don’t know what you want me to say. I didn’t ever intend for you to find out about any of this. I didn’t expect you to see me yesterday. I shouldn’t have agreed to stay last night.”
“Jughead I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I can’t tell you that I’m in love with you right now because I’m not, but I do care about you, and I won’t ever even know if there could be something more between us if you decide you’re going to exit my life completely. I like you as a person. I like the curls of your dark hair that can’t stay inside of your beanie. I like that you have a sardonic sense of humor. I like that you care about me. I’m just not where you’re at.” You exhaled at the end of your speech.
“Can I take you on a date then?” Jughead looked at you inquisitively, awaiting your answer with fear and curiosity.
The question came as a shock to you, despite the obvious signs that this was coming. To you, Jughead didn’t seem like the type to blatantly ask anyone on a date, but you weren’t about to say no either. “Yes? But only if you stay.”
A shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when you answered and you responded by walking over to Jughead’s backpack, pulling out the wet clothes, and triumphantly carrying them out of the cellar, through the yard, and into the house to be washed and dried.