#if it turns out that lys just has a bit more of an old fashioned mindset (esp since he already is more old fashioned) that would make sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

digital-domain · 2 months

Text

Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k

In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness

A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic

There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.

Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.

No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…

You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for.

Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.

Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.

When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention.

It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.

You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.

“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.

“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.”

Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”

“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”

You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot.

“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”

It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”

“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”

You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.

Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”

He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”

In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”

You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.

But then again - you would like to know.

He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.”

His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long.

“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open.

As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”

“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear.

“You shouldn’t have”-

“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.

This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”

“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”

You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.

“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind.

You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear.

“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”

“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”

“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”

You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate.

“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”

You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction.

When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.

You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.

You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.

There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”

You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is.

“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”

You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes.

“Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery.

“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time.

“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”

His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…

He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”

“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer.

His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual.

His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile.

“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”

You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.

He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.

“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”

You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.

“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”

You have no doubt that you will.

Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…

Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.

This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.

Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else.

Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.

At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home.

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

714 notes · View notes

saruman-the-silly · 8 months

Note

Oh hello... I wanted to make a request, I wanted to know how the Papas would react to seeing that y/n is a little chubby. Because I was looking in the mirror and I was so sad about what I saw, and now I'm lying in bed scrolling through Tumblr thinking about making this request... You don't have to do it if you don't want to, It's just that I love the way you write that I kept thinking about it.

I very much want to, thank you very much :D there is nothing, and I repeat, nothing wrong with being a little chubby, or being a lot more chubby! Whatever size you are, you are beautiful, remember that <3

This also gives me a reason to finally write something for Primo and Secondo so thank you hehe

soooooo I present to you, headcanons about the papas with a chubby reader! (gender neutral ofc hehe)

(I wrote this kind of quickly so if there are horrible grammatical errors, I will try and fix them as I find them lol)

------------------------------

Headcanons: Papas with a chubby reader

Primo:

He's very old, and a bit old-fashioned, so he just instantly thought you were an angel when he saw you. Back in his days, the curvier you were, the more attractive you were.

When he got to know you as a person, he grew to love you very quickly.

All of your curves and imperfections were a work of art for him.

Primo is also such a gentle person, and would notice the instant you were feeling down/insecure. He doesn't pressure you to talk about it though, but he still makes sure you know that he's there for you.

If you wanna talk tho? He would listen really well, and after you had poured your insecurities out on the table, he would assure you that your curves just made you more, well, you. And you were his amore, the most beautiful thing in the world.

Secondo:

He's a serious guy who does not like to talk about emotions and stuff. (I don't think he even knows how but lmao anyway)

Secondo's usually serious and no-bullshit charade was quickly torn away by you and your delightful presence. (He was freaking out like crazy when he first met you, Terzo would not let him forget how he stumbled over his words when he was first introduced to you)

Also, fuck, he couldn't keep his eyes from you. Every time you are in a same room with him, his gaze almost involuntarily shifts back to you.

He loves you. So much. So when you came to him, telling how you didn't think you looked good, he was a little confused. How could you see yourself in such a light, when you had made such an impact on him?

He reassures you that yes, he wants to be with you and nobody else.

He doesn't really know say anything else. But he doesn't need to, his actions prove the endless love he harbours for you.

Terzo:

Ah, Terzo, our hopeless romantic.

Terzo has seen many different types of bodies up close and personal during his life, but not one of them could match your beauty.

Needless to say, when he first met you he fell. Hard. Like, head over heels. Out the door went his playboy days, he only had eyes for you.

He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You had trouble believing him, when he confessed his undying love for you. (Don't blame him he just likes to be theatrical but he really did mean it)

You confessed to Terzo about your insecurities, and he proved himself to be a great listener. After talking, he reassured you that yes, he meant what he said, yes, he wants to be with you.

He would then bring you in front of a mirror, and gently kiss and caress all the parts of your body you are insecure about.

Copia:

He would understand your struggles very well. Having a history with insecurities himself, Copia isn't a stranger to body dysmorphia.

Copia loves you. So much. You helped him get through a lot of his insecurities, so, now was his turn.

He let you vent, while making you a cup of tea, and wrapped you in a tight hug afterwards. You cried in his arms and he just held you and comforted you.

Copia is very direct about his feelings toward you. He lists all the things he loves about you, and tells you how you size just makes you all the more perfect. (the man loves thick thighs)

He would do his best to make you see yourself in the same light he sees you. Copia gently traces over your stretchmarks with his finger, then kisses them and whispers to you how beautiful you are.

---------------------------

Thanks for the request annnd enjoy :D

Remember, you are beautiful no matter your size <3

280 notes · View notes

anqelically · 3 months

Text

IKIGAI | OSAMU DAZAI X FEM!READER

003. THREE INVITATIONS

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The agency receives a case in which they must protect a certain man from an old prophecy

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Descriptions of dead bodies, the prophecy inspired by the tv show “the originals”

WORD COUNT: 2K words

SERIES INTRODUCTION | CH2 | CH4

OVER A MONTH HAD PASSED since Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency. Although Y/N hadn't gotten the time to work with Dazai on a case directly, she was sure that he would be one of the greatest detectives the agency would have.

Just from some of the reports she'd read and the times they'd talked, she could tell that he was incredibly intelligent. He was quite a character sometimes, but that didn't hinder his brains one bit.

Three of the cases he and Kunikida handled could've gone wrong at any moment, but Dazai managed to outsmart the criminals. He and Kunikida were a great pair when they worked together.

Today at the agency was just another day of sorting through paperwork for Y/N. She thought the day would end with her doing the same, but she was mistaken when Fukuzawa called in all the detectives for a meeting.

In the meeting room, everyone sat around the long table. Y/N and Yosano sat on one side, Ranpo and Dazai on the other, Fukuzawa sat facing the board, and Kunikida was the one standing in front of it.

Meetings like this before the agency is even involved in a case usually meant everyone was working on it.

"So, what's going on?" Y/N decided to be the one to ask.

"Well, the agency has, obviously, taken on a new case. So far, 5 deaths have been accounted for." Kunikida hung up different photos of each of the victims. They were both their license photos and the photos of their bodies. "Here, the victims were all successful business owners in the Kansai region. Specifically, they ran their businesses around Kyoto and Osaka. You can see that each of their deaths is different."

The picture of the first dead man was in a fish tank. The water had turned red and his body pruned. His eyes remained open as the pictures were taken. Any person walking by must've felt like he was staring into their soul.

The second body was found in a pond in the middle of a flower garden. The woman, in this case, had her insides taken out. With the space, vipers slithered around her body.

The third victim's body was set up in a similar fashion in a dirt bed. Instead of his insides being removed, the lower half of his mouth was. Larvae were found all over his body and inside of what remained of his mouth.

The fourth died with countless bullet-sized holes in his body. Though, there were no bullets left at the scene. His body was wet, lying in a puddle of water when it was discovered.

The final victim, the fifth business owner, died by burning alive. His body, crisp and charred, was tied to where he passed away, which was in a meeting room. Alcohol flooded the floor at the scene.

Yosano grimaced, "How disgusting."

"I agree," Kunikida pushed his glasses up.

"So, how were you sure that each death is connected? Excluding that they were all found in unique circumstances," Dazai questioned.

"Each of them was found by multiple employees, and all of them saw the messages that were left with the bodies."

"What messages?"

Kunikida put another photo on the wall and Y/N read it out loud, "'And if each event shall be passed, may the end of the cursed be fulfilled.' The cursed?"

"If that was on each body, then I assume there's still more to come," the doctor guessed.

Ranpo finally spoke up, taking his cherry lollipop out of his mouth, "There's going to be one more, actually."

"How did you figure that out?"

"These killings... they're based on some prophecy from a long time ago. It was hard to find about online."

"Was this prophecy real?" Y/N then asked.

"Nope," Ranpo shook his head and answered, bored, "not at all. The culprit just wants it to seem so. It's easy to see through, really."

"So, how does it go?" Dazai sprung up, "Oh, is it a song~? Maybe we can all sing it right here and the culprit will come right to us."

"As if it would be that easy," Kunikida sighed. He recited, "'With each event that passed, the more light was revealed. Thou should know the signs of blood from water, vipers from the rivers, larvae from the soil, ice rain from the skies, fire across the water, tsunamis from the sea, the death of the cursed firstborn.'"

"A man found in a tank of his own blood and water, a woman with vipers all over her body, a man in the same condition but with larvae, a man with holes in his body on top of a puddle of water, and another guy who was found burnt to a crisp. Hm," Dazai released a breath as if he were tired, "the prophecy sounds about right. There'll be one more victim, and they're going to be killed by a so-called tsunami from the sea."

"That is where you are wrong." Everyone looked towards the president, who was the one to speak. He continued, "We, the Armed Detective Agency, will put our effort into preventing this final murder."

No one had to utter a word to express that they agreed. However, preventing the final murder required a few things. The first was to know who the final victim was. Y/N expressed this concern, and Fukuzawa said they had an answer.

The final victim, according to Ranpo, was going to be a man named Kei Yoshikawa.

Kunikida had no doubt that Ranpo was right, considering that it was Ranpo and they had the image of Yoshikawa in the files. "How'd you figure that out, Ranpo-san?"

"Well, their goal is to kill this cursed firstborn, right? Yoshikawa here fits that role perfectly. The business owners that have already died may have run their buildings separately, but this guy is the man at the top. He basically owns them all. From almost nothing, he built this life for himself. But with the recent killings, some people have begun to see the company as cursed— Yoshikawa as cursed. He's also the first and only child of his family. Hence, he's the cursed firstborn."

"So, how do we plan on preventing this anyway? Are we having Yosano-sensei stick by as we follow him?" Dazai tilted his head.

Kunikida sighed, "Yoshikawa is hosting a party in celebration of the company going 10 years strong. It's probably also to keep everyone's minds off of these brutal murders. It's tomorrow, here, in Yokohama. Due to the Armed Detective Agency's connections, the president was able to acquire us invitations.”

"So we're all going," Yosano took her chin off of her hand. "That makes it easier."

"The final plague can easily happen because Yokohama is right by the ocean," Dazai pointed out. "If it happens-"

Y/N interrupted, "We won't let it, remember? We'll stop whoever's behind it. We are the agency, after all."

"Stop a natural disaster?" Yosano quirked her brow.

Dazai cupped his chin, "But it's not going to be a natural disaster, is it? It's an ability. If we get the ability user, we stop the disaster. They'll most definitely be there because there's no way they can set up such a death without being in or near the building."

"Newbie's right," Ranpo commented. "One of you will always stick by Yoshikawa, as Dazai said. President wasn't trying to give us away, so he was only able to snag us 3 invitations.”

Fukuzawa slid 3 envelopes onto the table space in front of him, "Y/N, Yosano, Dazai, you three will work the case from the inside."

| 生きがい |

WITH HER FINGERS RUNNING DOWN HER CURVES, Y/N looked at herself in the mirror. Y/N donned an outfit that didn't have much color. She decided to wear a black v-neck dress that stopped shortly above her knees. As for jewelry, she adorned her silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant.

The following day had arrived and the time of the celebration was near. At Yosano's apartment, where Y/N used to live, the two women were getting ready. They were practically done, just adding a few touches to their looks.

"Oneesan," she called, "I don't know what to do with my hair. Do you think putting half of it up will look good?"

She looked towards Yosano, who was putting on gold earrings. She wore a violet dress, silk like Y/N's, that was off-shoulder. A simple necklace was wrapped around her neck, in addition to a similar bracelet. The doctor wore her hair like normal, the metal butterfly clipped to the side of her head.

Like how Yosano always wore the clip, Y/N always wore the red ribbon she had in her hand. After she would tie her hair back, she'd tie the ribbon around it. A gift for her 17th birthday, the first one she spent with the Armed Detective Agency. As long as she had it and the other ones she received, she'd wear it.

Yosano slipped behind Y/N, placing her hands on her shoulders, "Let's tie your hair back like normal. It'll make things easier if they go south."

Fukuzawa slid 3 envelopes onto the table space in front of him, "Y/N, Yosano, Dazai, you three will work the case from the inside."

The said trio stared at the president in silence, being the only ones that weren't notified. Yosano, however, had a feeling that she'd be called. After all, it was her ability that saved the lives of many.

"Fukuzawa-sama," Y/N raised her hand politely, "is there any reason for us specifically?"

The older man gestured to Ranpo, who only huffed. He answered, "Yosano-san can heal, that's obvious. However, she can't nullify abilities like you or Dazai over here. His ability nullifies other abilities. But if you're fast enough, you can do the same by taking them into your ability."

Dazai, the only one clueless about the full extent of Y/N's ability, darted his eyes toward her. The young woman was talking with Ranpo thoughtfully. Another person who can nullify abilities... Dazai wouldn't have guessed.

Though, Ranpo made it clear that there was a downside to her ability nullification.

"That's all that happens, isn't it?" Y/N weakly joked. "But even so, we can usually handle it. From what I'm sure we all heard, Dazai-san is plenty capable."

"I just want you to be careful with him, okay?" Yosano smiled at the younger one.

Y/N pouted, "Oniisan first, and now you? You guys make it seem like something bad will happen."

"I'm just saying, darling. Don't rely too much on someone like him." Yosano grabbed her heels and sat down, "In the end, we've only got ourselves. You two may be paired up specifically, but don't count on Dazai. He's too mysterious, that one."

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror once more. Her hair was slicked back into a sleek ponytail, thanks to Yosano. Behind her, she could see her flats sitting on top of the empty shoe box.

Her eyes dropped down to her hands, "Understood. Though, I don't think I'd ever fall into a ditch because of Dazai-san. I agree that he's actually pretty mysterious for being someone who jokes a lot, but that doesn't change anything. He's a member of the agency, a member accepted by Kunikida-san and Fukuzawa-sama. I trust their judgment, so I trust Dazai. But like you said, I'm not going to rely on him."

Yosano hummed, "Good thing, Y/N. If you did fall into a ditch because of him, I have the feeling that it won't end well for either of you."

The 19 year old made a confused sound, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not totally sure myself. But if he ever does hurt you, trust me when I say he'll get that pain back tenfold."

WRITTEN: 03/12/2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i love protective!yosano okay 😔🫶🏻

@seneon @chuuyrr @kentopedia @cloudwisp @aureatchi

#୨୧ [ ikigai ]#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd #bungou stray dogs

71 notes · View notes

sporesmoldsfungus · 1 year

Text

Safety Net | Egon Spengler x Reader

Hi Everyone! This is my first time writing for Egon and I would be lying If I said I did not thoroughly enjoy myself. Im still figuring out how to use Tumblr, so any tips would be well appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 3.1K

Side note: look how cute our man is in this gif, I cannot deal!!!

******

You grimace as you put your sleeve over your mouth, the smoke from the trap causing you to cough in reaction.

“I Don’t think I will ever get used to that smell” You murmur to Ray as you pass him the trap. You were both currently out of town on a job for an old opera house. The job required you to stay at a hotel last night so you could catch the ghost in question early that morning. The ghost busters usually didn’t accept jobs from out of town, but when the owner of the opera house mentioned a large check, Peter could not say no. Of course, he had no intention of doing the job himself, which was why you and Ray were in the current situation.

“Egon said it has something to do with the negative energy the ghost emit when captured” Ray explained, he also grimaced as he took the trap from you. He brought the trap over to Ecto-1 and threw it in the back before closing the door. “I cannot wait to get back and sleep in my own bed” He sighed.

“Yeah, me too. Those hotel beds were horrible” you agreed as you made your way towards the driver’s side of the car. Ray had drove you both to the location, you thought you would return the favour by driving home. “I’ll make sure the invoice for those rooms go to Venkman, he’s the reason we had to do this job in the first place” You joke.

“Always the same, even in college he always got the best side of the deal” Ray agreed as he got into his side of the car, immediately putting the heaters on after he sat down.”

“Oh please don’t remind me of Peter’s Sorority years, I’ve had enough pain today to last me at least a week” You grumble as you gently rubbed your neck. The ghost you had been hired to capture had a little bit of a nasty streak. Just as you were about to capture it, it had thrown you back into a wall, your neck and shoulder hadn’t felt right since.

Ray chuckled before asking in a concerned tone. “Are you alright to drive? I don’t mind switching”.

“I’ll be okay, an ice pack at home should do the trick” You smiled before turning the car on and starting your journey home. Ray’s selflessness was one of your favourite things about the scientist. No matter what the situation, Ray always offered to help.

******

You firstly met Ray, Egon and Peter around eight years ago at Columbia University. As you walked through the door to your first lecture on parapsychology, you had noticed there was only one seat left available to sit in. Next to the free seat, sat the dorkiest man you had ever set eyes on. He had large round glasses that were definitely a decade out of fashion, but you couldn’t picture him wearing any other style. His slightly curly hair was neatly kept, and you couldn’t help but wonder what routine he used to tame it. The more you stared, the more you admired how beautiful this man was. From the way he had dressed himself in a suit just for a lecture, to the way his forehead was slightly creased due to the front on his face as he read over a book.

You slowly made your way over to the empty seat, hesitating before sitting down. “Is this seat taken?” you asked softly, a small blush covered your cheeks and nose.

The man’s head rose to look up at you, his frown softening as he looked at you. It felt like he had been staring at you for an hour before he eventually cleared his throat. “uh, no this seat is free” he nodded before awkwardly going back to his book.

You gave a small smile and sat down on the stool. As you brought your textbooks from your bag, you caught a glimpse of what the man next to you was reading. “you’re a fan of Joseph Rhine?”.

“Uhh, just a little bit of light reading” he replied hesitantly, as if he didn’t realise you were talking to him at first.

You gave a small nod. “I’m more a fan of Arthur Doyle, myself”

“The sherlock Holmes author?” he asked sceptically.

You gave an enthusiastic nod “Yes, many people don’t know that he actually does research in telepathy and seances too”. Just like every time you talked about anything on the lines of parapsychology, you could feel yourself becoming excited. Your family did everything in attempt to get you to choose a more ‘normal’ degree like English or Biology, but nothing could have possibly changed your mind.

“interesting” he mumbled; his face looked as if it was deep in thought for a moment before he opened up a notebook, and scribbled down the author’s name.

“My name is Y/N, by the way” you stuck your hand towards the man, a gentle smile on your lips. You were trying your best to follow your mother’s advice she had given you on the phone this morning. ‘Any day, is a successful day, if you meet a new friend’.

The man returned a very small smile before gently taking your hand. “Egon Spengler”

“Lovely to meet you Egon”.

What you were unaware of that day, was why Egon had been sitting alone, when in fact his two best friends were sat directly behind him. Peter and Ray were well aware of Egon’s most important rule. ‘I forbid anybody to sit next to me in lectures, talking is a distraction of learning’. Almost every day he had turned people down who were looking for a spare seat, earning his friends to cringe away in embarrassment each time. However, when he had looked at you, something changed. He realised that he, for some reason, would not mind being distracted by you. Of course, he later went home and tried to conduct a full study on why he felt this way, but it took him four years before he later came up with a reasonable conclusion.

Later that day, you were introduced to Ray and Peter, through the expense of Egon being the centre of one of Peter’s jokes. After that day on, the four of you had been close friends ever since.

******

After complaining about New York traffic for at least thirty minutes, you finally drove into the firehouse, sighing with content as you parked the car. “Home, sweet, home”.

As you got out of the car, a floating green blob flew towards you, it’s stick like arms wrapping around your neck.

“Awhh, I missed you too slimer” You chuckled as you hugged the ghost back.

“How come he never slimes you; I swear he has full control of that stuff” Peter grumbled as he walked out his office and headed towards you.

“Oh Peter, are you jealous that slimer loves me more? I’m sure he’d love to come and give you a cuddle too” You joked as you let go of the ghost, a mischievous smirk on your face.

“Don’t you dare” He warned, his eyes narrowing as he spoke slowly.

“Fine, you win this time. However, me and Ray have decided you are getting invoiced for those hotel rooms, after all, it was your call to take”.

Peter struggled to find a reply for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Whatever, just give the papers to Janine, I’m too tired to debate this one out”.

“What’s the matter? You’re not sick are you” You asked genuinely. If needed, Peter normally had the social skills to sell ice to someone who lived in the North pole.

“No, I’m not sick. But considering I’m paying for the hotel rooms, I need to call in a favour from you too” He replied, leaning against the side of Ecto-1 as he spoke.

You stopped unloading the equipment from the back to give him your full attention. “I’m not taking the blame again for you not closing the containment unit correctly”

“You forgot to close the containment unit again!” Ray rushed from behind the car, his face frantic as he looked between you and Peter.

“No! The containment unit is fine! Gosh, what do you people take me for?” Peter replied quickly, finishing the sentence with a scoff. “I’m calling in a favour because Spengz hasn’t left the lab since you went on that call”. He finally explained.

Your heart sunk a little as Peter spoke. It was not unusually for Egon to spend hours at a time in the lab, but you and Ray had been gone for over twenty-four hours. Egon tended to go through stages where he become so fixated on science, his personal health was forgotten to him. He had the potential to go days without eating or sleeping, which often made him ill and even more stressed out for a few days. The boys did their best to encourage Egon to stop working, but it just resulting in them being thrown out of the lab. The boys sometimes called you their “secret weapon” which they would release when things got bad.

You gave a sad sigh and nodded in understanding to Peter. “I’ll try my best” you muttered as you took a bag from ecto-1’s side door. You and Ray had picked up some snacks on the way home from your call that you were going to attempt to use.

You headed downstairs and gently tapped on the lab door before entering. “Guess who’s back” you said cheerily, trying your best to act like you were unaware of Egon’s shenanigans. When you entered the lab, he was sat at his desk, microscope at hand.

“Hey Sweetheart” he said softly, although you could hear the tired undertone in his voice. “How did the call go?”.

“It was just a class three, nothing we could not deal with. Although, it did get a little aggressive at the end” You explained as you came up and hugged him from behind.

He gave a soft smile and rested one hand on your arms that were wrapped around him, his other hand continued to write down his notes from the microscope. “You must be tired from the drive home, why don’t you go and get some rest” He suggested.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps me and you could get something to eat first?” you tried at your first attempt of dragging him from the lab. “We could order from your favourite Thai place.” You bribed.

“That sounds great, but I really need to finish my work on this new slime sample.” Egon replied with a sigh as he continued to work with his microscope. “I really think I’m onto something with this sample, the electrochemical bond is unlike any other we’ve encountered”.

“Oh, okay” you gave a small nod, thinking how this was going to be harder than you thought. “Well, I bought some snack on the way home from the call, we could share them in the meantime?” You suggested as you walked over to grab the bag you had put on the counter.

“I would, but I really need to test the polarity of this sample” He abstained.

“Egon, you taking a five-minute break to eat sugary treats with me will not cause Gozer to raise from the dead.”

This time he finally looked up at you, a million thoughts seemed to be going through his head before he finally said. “Okay, but only a few minutes” He agreed, moving over to the other counter to sit next to you.

‘Result!’ you thought.

You gave him a bright smile and laid out the packets of food in front of you both.

“So, did Peter behave himself whilst I was away?” You joked as you opened as packet of crisps.

Egon hummed. “Peter behaved like Peter, if that answers your question.” He also opened a box of twinkies as he spoke. “I suppose it does” You agreed. “I also came up with a new theory” You announced.

“And what would that be?”

“Peter actually loves having slimer around. In fact, I think slimer is Peter’s favourite supernatural entity.”

Egon gave a low chuckle and you mentally ticked off another achievement box.

“Are you sure you’re not lacking sleep? That’s the most impossible theory you have conducted” Egon asked with a small smile.

“Oh, I’m exhausted, those hotel beds should be burnt, they were horrible!” You exclaimed. You moved your neck side to side in order to relieve some of the tension. As you did so, your hair moved to the side, giving a plain sight to the side of your neck.

Any humour that Egon had managed to gather instantly left his face at the sight of your neck. Right under your hairline, a purply black bruise began to form.

Your neck and shoulders had been aching ever since the ghost had thrown you back into the wall. You had gotten your fair number of beatings when being on calls, but you always managed to just walk them off. You thought this was just like other times, but you were unaware of how much your neck was bruising.

Egon slowly reached up and brushed the hair from the side of your neck, exposing more of the skin. You couldn’t help but wince a little from the pain.

“What did this to you?” He whispered; his voice barely auditable.

You hesitated a little. “The ghost I said that got a little aggressive, he had a thing for throwing people too” You replied with an award chuckle, trying your best to lighten the mood.

Egon clenched his jaw. “You need to ice this” he mumbled before going over to the lab freezer and pulling out an ice pack. Before he placed the ice pack on your neck, he very gently tied your hair back with the hair tie you conveniently had on your wrist. You tried your best not to wince which caused him to murmur a small “sorry”.

“I’m okay. Honestly, it doesn’t hurt that much” You reassured, taking his place of holding the icepack to the bruise.

He sat back down next to you and gently took your free hand. “Y/N, you should really go and rest.” He told you softly, but with an authoritative undertone. “An injury like this is only going to heal with rest.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, really looked at him. The man before you looked exhausted. His eyes were dark but were still looking at you with pure love, His skin was slightly pale and his face had a slightly sad aura. Despite your friends attempts, nobody could persuade Egon to look after himself in the last twenty-four hours, but here he was, fully invested in your health and safety. Oh, the irony.

“Are you in any pain?” He asked sadly, his eyes frowning a little as he noticed your eyes starting to glass over a little with tears.

You slightly shook your head before leaning over and gently placing your lips to his. He seemed to relax at your touch, something that he had developed overtime. “I’ll make you a deal” You whispered as you pulled back to look at him, your face still quite close to his.

He gently rubbed the back of your hand he was still holding with his thumb. He remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I will take a nap and rest my neck, but only if you come and keep me company” You bargained sweetly.

Egon let out a sigh, he looked over his should at the slime sample before looking back to you. “Alright” He agreed. “But you’re keeping the icepack on” He added as he stood up, his hand remaining around yours as he led you upstairs and up to the bedrooms. You and Janine had your own bedroom with two double beds. Meanings that Janine hardly stayed at the firehouse, you and Egon had partly claimed the room for yourselves.

“Now lovebirds, I don’t want to hear any noises coming from that room” Peter joked loudly as you and Egon got to the top floor.

“Oh slimer! Peter said he wants a cuddle!” You yelled loudly with a huge smirk. The distant yelling of peter could be heard as Egon closed the bedroom door.

“I love that little ghost” You beamed as you got a set of pyjamas for you and Egon from the wardrobe.

You both began to change into your pyjamas, Egon having to help you pull your t-shirt over your head due to the pain of your neck. As you got into bed, you gently took off Egon’s glasses and set them on the nightstand on your side of the bed, just in case he got any ideas about going back to the lab. You were a light sleeper and would wake up if he decided to slip out through the night.

Egon wrapped his arms around you as you cuddled up to him, doing his best to avoid your neck at all costs. Just as you were about to drop off to sleep, he mumbled “I’m sorry”. You gave a small frown and opened your eyes again. “You have nothing to be sorry for” you said almost instantly. You repositioned yourself so you were resting on his chest but looking up at him.

“I didn’t realise I was worrying people again” he said softly, looking down at you as he spoke. It had finally sunk in why you and his friends had been asking him to eat and rest a lot recently.

Your heart almost broke when you realised what he meant. “Oh Egon” You whispered sadly. You reached up and gently kissed his lips, his hand coming up to your cheek as you melted into each other’s grasp. “We all care about you so much” you told him sincerely.

He gave a small nod before softly kissing you again. “Get some rest” he mumbled as he pulled away. He gave the top of your head a small kiss as you repositioned yourself on his chest.

Egon acknowledging why people were worried was the winning streak in your eyes. He was not somebody who needed to be told something many times, as soon as he acknowledged an issue, he would do his best to change things.

“Goodnight, my love” “Goodnight, Sweetheart”

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler fanfiction #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters #the real ghostbusters #ray stantz #peter venkman #winston zeddemore #slimmer #janine melnitz #ghostbusters ii #fanfiction #harold ramis #bill murray #dan ackroyd #y/n

639 notes · View notes

dalishious · 1 year

Text

The infamous roof scene... My favourite Sera scene in the game.

#LowElfEsteem is a series on Sera’s romance with an elf, discussing both the well and poorly done aspects of her writing, while also examining her character on a deeper level.

Sera invites the Inquisitor up onto the roof to eat cookies together. She then opens up a bit about her backstory, though in a typical Sera fashion, tells a lot by just focusing on one specific thing.

Sera: I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the "Lady Emmald" took me in.

Sera: She was sick and couldn't have children. I had no parents. It worked out.

Sera: Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask her about cookies. Because moms make cookies. I can pass that down or something.

Sera: Turns out, she couldn’t cook. She missed that talk with her mom. The ones she "made" she bought, and pretended.

Sera: Aww, right? Well no, she was a bitch.

Sera: She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did that by lying that he didn’t like me; didn’t like elves.

Sera: She let me hate so she could protect her pride. I hated him so much, and I hated...

Sera: Well, she died. And I hate pride. Pride Cookies.

Sera: But this is great, you’re great, so I thought, maybe me and you could make some.

Sera: I don’t know, "Us Cookies."

Sera: Because then I could like them again. Aww, it’s stupid…

Inquisitor: I don’t understand, this Lady Emmald was just trying to be good to you.

Sera: She hurt people.

Inquisitor: It was just cookies.

Sera: It was not just cookies!

Sera: Lie to herself, fair play, only hurts her. But she made me think there was something wrong with me!

Sera: And the baker? I made his life shit! Why not? It seemed like he deserved it. I mean, if you don’t give a child a cookie because of appearances, you’re a monster. Stupid, pride-whore noble.

Let's get the obvious out of the way, first: When Sera says, "I hated him so much, and I hated..." trailing off, she means she hated herself. That much is obvious by Sera's further explanation, "she made me think there was something wrong with me!"

Why would Sera pick this moment of all things to talk about? Well, remember that Sera would have been less than 10 years old when this happened; the most formative years of growing up, and this incident clearly stuck with her. It taught her she couldn't trust someone she thought was looking out for her, all because Emmald cared more about maintaining appearances than her adopted child's self-esteem. She taught Sera that she would be hated for being an elf, but neglected to teach her that it wasn't Sera's fault.

Was Emmald racist herself? I'm not sure, but she certainly did use racism as a means of control. And maybe that's almost just as bad.

After this talk, the Inquisitor has the opportunity to ask Sera a bit more about herself, this time, Sera being honest. She talks about her history with the Red Jennies a bit, how she got the chance to learn how to use a bow, etc. But I want to highlight this bit of dialogue in particular:

Inquisitor: I think that, after our rooftop chat, I get why you're not like other elves.

Sera: Well, don't. How about we dig into what you are? Or what you're supposed to be?

Sera: Do you know wall about elfiness? What it takes to keep our ears all perky?

Sera: Because you could be more than just that. To me, anyway.

The romance dialogue response is "Whatever I am to you, Sera, that's all I need." And that's cute, but I want to complain about Sera's response if you answer with, "We should all be examples of our peoples, and understand how others will judge us."

Sera: Right, well, good on you. Have fun.

Sera: Don't forget to whine about the past. All elves do that.

Sera: Heard that once. From an "example".

Fucking yet again, Kristjanson can't resist the urge to have Sera denounce systemic racism as something you "whine" about, without any chance at rebuttal. We get it, buddy. You don't know how to write internalized racism in a way that's not just offensive.

If it were up to me, I'd give the Inquisitor the opportunity to challenge Sera with this, to teach her that everything she's regurgitating from what she's heard the humans say is wrong, and that hating her own people accomplishes nothing except doing half the work of her oppressors for them.

#sera #dragon age #low elf esteem #meta #bioware nemesis

276 notes · View notes

buckgasms · 2 years

Text

Goldilocks

I did it....but should I have done it? This is a dark fic so please proceed with caution! It took me a while and I don't know if I like it yet, I think I need some of you to come and discuss this with me 😙

Warnings: Dark Fic, dubcon, kidnapping, p in v, reader is naked a lot, breeding kink, its dark and loooooong

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Bucky has always craved something that he could never seem to find.

- It doesn't even seem that far fetched to him.

- A pretty wife to take care of who he would come home to, make him dinner, look after the house and raise a brood of little Barnes'.

- Obviously he would keep his little wife busy by breeding her as often as possible so she was always with a swollen belly and a baby in her arms.

- But apparently this was all too old fashioned for the women in his town.

- He spent his nights in his little cabin in the woods becoming more obsessed with the idea, how much better his life would be and how no woman would ever satisfy him.

- That was until you stumbled into his life.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You had been visiting the area, planning on going on a hike through the huge national park forest. Just to get away from it all.

- After a few hours hiking you realised you were totally and utterly lost.

- Add to that, you barely packed enough food or drink, warm clothes and your phone battery died because you forgot your spare charger.

- Oh and how about a twisted ankle and a rain storm just to fuck you up a bit more?

- You limped onwards and finally came upon a little cabin. You cried with relief and stumbled over, calling out for help.

- When no reply came you tried the door and found it unlocked. Your first bit of luck that day!

- You stripped off your wet clothes and left them in the hallway before hobbling into the kitchen and raiding the fridge.

- You were so delirious you couldn't focus on what a mess you had made and you stumbled through the house until you came across a cosy bed and collapsed into it, passing out before your head even hit the pillow.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- When Bucky got home from work, he squinted through the windscreen as the rain lashed down.

- His front door was wide open and the lights had been turned on!

- He rushed inside to find a pile of soggy women's clothes on the floor. Following the drips of water he found his kitchen in a mess, fridge door wide open and most of his dinner gone.

- He was furious until he stormed into his bedroom and saw you lying in his bed.

- You had stripped down to your underwear and he took his time staring at you.

- You were pretty. Really pretty.

- And nobody knew you were here. Well as far as he could tell.

- He left you sleeping and went through your belongings. He bagged up your clothes and chucked them in the bin. Your phone was dead so he snapped the sim card in half and threw that in the fireplace for burning.

- Now you were his.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You awoke later and heard noises out in the living room, as well as the scent of something sweet, making your stomach growl.

- You pulled on a t-shirt you found in the wardrobe and headed out to the living room.

- "Hello?" You called out quietly and there he was. A very handsome man, brown locks framing his face and sparkling blue eyes. He was also huge, he looked really strong and well built.

- Ok he was super hot but you also felt a bit nervous of him

- "I'm Bucky, welcome to my home Goldilocks"

- You laughed and shook his hand and introduced yourself.

- "I'm so sorry for breaking in, I was so scared out there and I've hurt my ankle. I was just so relieved I forgot all my manners!"

- He eyed you for a moment then said, "you hungry Goldilocks?'

- You nodded eagerly, bristling a little at the nickname. You had apologised. What more could you do?

- He led you into the kitchen where you found it in a state of total disarray.

- "Tidy up this mess and then you can eat"

- You blinked at him. What the fuck?

- "Um what? Look I said I was sorry but I'm in agony here pal. I'm not your fucking servant."

- He grabbed your arm painfully and dragged you forward.

- "And I'm not yours Goldilocks. Clean up this fucking mess or you can sleep outside tonight."

- You hesitated, just long enough for him to make a decision. He dragged you roughly to the front door and you begged at him.

- "Ok, ok, please! I'll clean it up, just chill, I'll can't go out there!"

- He gave you a dark chuckle. "Too late little brat, maybe you'll be a bit more grateful after a couple of hours?"

- And with that he threw you outside into the rain, the mud and the pitch black forest.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- After what was probably only half an hour you heard the lock on the door finally he opened it.

- He picked you up off the floor and you clung to his shirt as you shivered violently in his arms.

- "Please....p..p..please let me in" you croaked, your voice aching from screaming and crying.

- "You gonna be good?"

- You nodded as hard as you could and he motioned to the kitchen.

- "Go clean up then and I'll get you nice and warm after."

- You didn't dare argue and you immediately limped away to the kitchen and started on the dishes.

- You ran your cold hands under the warm water and tears streamed down your face.

- Whatever this was.... It wasn't good.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Bucky returned when you finished and pulled off your soggy clothes. He wrapped you in a blanket and carried you into the living room where he had started a roaring fire.

- "I didn't want to do that yknow. But you need to learn some manners and respect if you are going to stay here..."

- You tensed up.

- "Oh that's right, you're gonna stay here with me. I've been wishing for a pretty thing like you and just my luck here you are. I don't even mind that you need taming. To be honest....that's the fun part."

- You started shaking again and he rubbed you. This had nothing to do with the cold though. You were trapped with a madman.

- He started pressing kisses to your damp hair and cold skin. You tried to wiggle away but he had you wrapped up tight.

- "You must be starving huh?" He asked and reached forward for a plate of pancakes.

- You cringed as he fed you little bits but you were so hungry you couldn't stop accepting the forkfuls of food he offered.

- He then helped you gulp down some water, rubbing this thumb over some little droplets of water and sinking it into your mouth.

- "Fuck..." He growled and pulled it from you with a pop.

- He then leaned back and rubbed your body until you couldn't help but drift off to sleep in his arms, relived at least to be warm and fed.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You awoke the next morning, naked and tied to the bed, your captor sleeping next to you.

- You tried to struggle quietly but your whimpers woke him and he cooed at you as his fingers gripped your cheeks.

- "Hey, hey calm down.... Or you can stay there all day."

- You stilled your movements and looked at him.

- God if you had met him any other way you would have done anything to get back to his cabin.

- He was gorgeous and thick and beefy and it made your knees weak just looking at him.

- He watched as your eyes scanned his body, resting on his thick cock for a second longer than needed and he grinned.

- "You want this Goldilocks? Might be too big for ya? Or is it too hard? Besides, you'd have to earn the pleasure of being split in half by my cock and you certainly haven't done that..."

- You cursed yourself for the whimper that slipped from your lips and you turned away from him as he laughed and left you there.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Later in the day he untied you and carried you to a nice warm bath. He sat and cleaned your muddy body and washed your hair.

- Little tears escaped from your eyes as he gently caressed your soft body.

- That's where he told you a little about himself.

- He was a Lumberjack having retired early from the army due to injury. Now working long hours in the sunshine with a few friends, and saved enough to build this place by himself as he craved the peace and quiet of the woods.

- Sadly it was the peace and quiet that troubled you. Nobody was going to find you out here. All you could hope was that some Park Rangers would come by and rescue you.

- "I've always dreamed of having this place full of kids and a pretty wife to take care of them, make this place a home y'know?"

- You shivered again in the warm water and he tutted.

- "You'll come around sweetness, already getting there aren't you?"

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Hours passed and you were just waiting now, waiting for him to snap.

- You had done your best to keep him kind, without being too commited to his plans.

- Your foot was aching but you figured if you got a chance you could make a run for it. You'd happily take your chances with a bear over this lunatic.

- He was sitting reading a newspaper, his eyes flicking to you every so often.

- "May I use the bathroom?"

- His eyes narrowed and flicked to your naked state and swollen ankle.

- "Sure thing"

- You walked slowly to the bathroom, waited a few seconds then padded as silently as you could to the front door.

- You grabbed a shirt that was on a peg and quietly opened the door.

- Then you started running.

- Your ankle screamed in protest as each step landed heavier than the last. Your body ached and you choked on sobs as you headed into the woods.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You ran in any direction until you came upon a dirt track. You could believe it when you heard an engine coming down the track.

- You ran towards it and to your relief was a green Ranger truck flashing it's lights at you.

- Wrapping the shirt around your cold body you yelled at the guy in the driver's seat and the truck skidded to a stop.

- "Please help me, I've been kidnapped by a goddam lunatic, please!!!!" You sobbed and clawed at the door.

- "Get in darling"

- The blonde man unlocked the door and you wrenched it open and climbed in.

- "What happened to you?"

- You explained the ordeal and he handed you a blanket to cover yourself up.

- "Bucky Barnes? You sure that's who did it?" He queried and revved up the engine. You nodded and shuddered at the thought of him

- "Well let's get you back huh? You look exhausted."

- You nodded and sank back onto the seat, leaning against the cool window. Relief flooding through your body as he started to drive.

- It quickly dissipated as he drove deeper into the forest until he came into a familiar clearing, and Bucky appeared from the doorway.

- "Damn he looks mad" the Ranger said and hopped out of the car.

- You watched, terrified as the two men shook hands and laughed as the blonde motioned towards you.

- "She's pretty Buck, aren't you lucky to find someone like her"

- "Well she ain't perfect Steve, needs to be trained up I think. Can't have her running around the forest all the time."

- Bucky walked round to your door and wrenched it open.

- "That was a stupid fucking thing to do."

------------------------🐻----------------------

- From that day Bucky had kept a close eye on you.

- You could move around the house, but your feet were shackled together to stop you from running, making you a easy target for his hands.

- He became obsessed with touching you. His hands would snake around your body and he would remind you of how he longed to put a baby in you.

- When you had been returned to him he had put you over his lap and spanked your ass raw.

- You had screamed and cried and begged for mercy but he didn't relent.

- Even a few days later you were still smarting from his hands.

- He would punish you harshly for any infraction, making you cry and promise to he good.

- This served Bucky well on two counts.

- Firstly it made you more obedient throughout the days, afraid of punishment.

- Secondly, when he was kind, you were becoming responsive and needy for him.

- You became less able to resist his mantra. You were so tired and afraid so when he would gently take you in his arms, pepper you with kisses and praises, it made all the coldness seem bearable.

- Your adventure with the Park Ranger made it clear that no one was going to look for you or save you. So what was left? What could you do?

- You were making pastry for a pie when Bucky snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your body.

- "I can't wait anymore Goldilocks, I think you've been such a good girl for me, you deserve a treat. Gonna breed you tonight, you're gonna make me a daddy. Hey I can be Daddy Bear and you can be Mommy Bear?" He kissed your cheek and left you to cry into your cooking.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- The usual bedtime routine was for Bucky to lock you in the bathroom and let you wash up before tying you up to his bed.

- Then you would lay there and watch him stroke his thick cock as he ran a possessive hand over your soft skin.

- "Gonna fill you up, fuck, can't believe you're all mine, just made for me..."

- What you hated most was how, just after a few days, your body started reacting to him in ways you wished it didn't

- You would get wet as his fingers squeezed and tugged at you, dipping into your slit once in a while. When he did that your hips chased his fingers and he laughed, stroking himself harder.

- "Soon baby, soon." Was all he would say and finish, wiping his come on your body and wrapping you up in his arms.

- But that wasn't happening tonight.

- Tonight he came in to the bathroom with you, pushed you into the shower and ran a soft cloth over your body.

- He spent time rubbing it through your pussy, creating a delicious burn as he pressed down, making your knees wobble.

- Once you were cleaned to his satisfaction he dried you off and pulled you into the bedroom.

- "I won't tie you up unless you make me" he stated and you nodded, wrapping your arms around your chest.

- He cupped your face in his rough hands and pulled you in for a kiss. You gripped his wrists and tried your best to return it. He was a man possessed and devoured you like no one else had before.

- He pulled away, panting and stared at you. "Everything I ever wanted, right here..."

- He then walked you backwards till your legs hit the bed and he pushed you so you fell backwards.

- He grabbed your ankles in one hand and pushed them up towards your head, his other hand playing with your pussy, spreading your wetness around.

- "Look at you... You gonna be a good girl? Make me a daddy?"

- You whimpered and nodded.

- "Say it, wanna fucking hear you say it"

- His fingers delved into your heat and curled into you, making you gasp.

- "Gonna be good, make you a daddy" you whispered hoarsely, eyes widening as he sunk in two fingers and stretched your walls.

- "Fuck, that's it, so tight, you gonna be able to take me?" he growled, his fingers pumping harshly as he watched you writhe under his actions.

- "Yes, yes.... Can take it" you wailed, desperate to please him, not caring what you were promising him.

- "That's it Goldilocks, good girl" he hummed and he flexed his fingers and soon you were coming around his fingers, howling his name.

- Without warning he sunk his thick cock into you, your mouth hanging open as he dragged his hips, slowly at first.

- "Tell me again, say it again" he grunted, his hips slamming into yours.

- "Gonna....gonna make you....a daddy" you panted, fingers gripping into his thick arms as his dick brushed you cervix almost painfully.

- He leaned down and kissed you, then littered your neck and chest with hickeys.

- "Mine....all fucking mine" he growled and you sobbed into his kiss.

- You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he rutted into you and your eyes locked for a moment.

- "You're perfect baby, so fucking perfect. Gonna take such good care of you I promise. You just gotta be good for me baby..."

- You nodded. It was over, you knew it. He kissed away the tears that tracked down your cheeks.

- "Ok...ok" you panted and he growled in your ear as he came, filling you up and kissing you again.

- "Good girl"

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You heard Bucky's truck revving down the track towards your new home and you rushed outside to wait for him as he instructed you, all those months ago.

- All you had one was a little apron, and your hair was tied up in a pretty bow, looking the picture of a perfect little wife.

- When he approached you, he scooped you up in his arms and spun you around.

- "Bucky!" You squealed "be careful of the baby" you giggled as he placed you back on your feet and stroked your little bump. The pressing a kiss to your cheek.

- "You been good today?" He asked and you nodded, pulling him inside to show him everything you'd done that day.

- Finally he sat down on the couch and you knelt between his knees, resting your head on his thigh, looking up at him, as his hand ran through your hair.

- "So perfect Goldilocks.... My perfect little Goldilocks"

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #masterlist #lumberjack!bucky #lumberbuck #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #lumberjack bucky #bucky headcanon

702 notes · View notes

cousmemes · 4 months

Text

dialogue starters from DOCTOR WHO SEASON 8. feel free to edit for context / continues under the cut.

"I'll wager you've not seen anything like this before."

"Listen to me. You need to calm down."

"I'm not flirting, by the way."

"What have I done wrong?"

"Are you judging me?"

"Just because my pretty face has turned your head, do not assume that I am so easily distracted."

"Whatever it takes, I will keep you safe. You will be at home again."

"I'm cold. There's no point in us both being cold. Give me your coat."

"Are you cross with me?"

"You were talking about me?"

"What is happening right now to you and me is more important than your egomania."

"Nothing is more important than my egomania."

"You've redecorated. I don't like it."

"You can't see me, can you? You look at me, and you can't see me. Have you any idea what that's like?"

"I was being funny. I just do that."

"How long have you been there?"

"Are you going to look that terrified when you take me out for a drink?"

"You were smiling at nothing. I'd almost say you were in love."

"I need you."

"An anti-climax once in a while is good for my heart."

"We cannot waste this chance. It won't come again."

"Isn't the universe beautiful?"

"I think you're probably nice. Underneath it all, I think you're kind and you're definitely brave. I just wish you hadn't been a soldier."

"I don't know if you're a good man. But I think you try to be and I think that's probably the point."

"Old-fashioned heroes only exist in old-fashioned storybooks."

"Do people ever punch you in the face when you do that?"

"Well then, draw your sword and prove your words."

"People are so much better at sharing information if they think the other person has already got it."

"Right, you do that again and you'll regret that."

"We can't just let them kill him!"

"She should not have told you any of that."

"Perhaps others will be heroes in our name. Perhaps we will both be stories. And may those stories never end."

"I wasn't making assumptions about you."

"You just have to squeeze through."

"How did you get in?"

"You know, you should have more than one chair. What do you do when people come round?"

"The deep and lovely dark. We'd never see the stars without it."

"I mouth off when I'm nervous and I've got a mouth on me. Seriously, it's got a mind of its own."

"Tell me the truth - because I know when people are lying to me."

"I am not going to leave you in danger!"

"Sorry, who put you in charge?"

"However this goes, whatever happens, don't let me end up like that."

"They have no power over you now. You can do exactly what you want to do now. Exactly what you've always wanted to do."

"Go and enjoy yourself. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"There's no way out of this. We're going to die here."

"Why are you being nice?"

"Every time I see you, it's like you're in a rush."

"The next few days are all about you. I promise."

"Human beings have incredibly short life spans. Frankly, you should all be in a permanent state of panic."

"How can you think that I'm her dad when we both look exactly the same age?"

"He's my boyfriend. I thought you'd figured this out."

"Why wouldn't I be okay? I was fine till you blundered in."

"It's funny, you only really know what someone thinks of you when you know what lies they've told you."

"Please, tell me how I fix this."

"I'm bored. Let's go somewhere fun. What do you say?"

"I know men like him. I've served under them. They push you and make you stronger, till you're doing things you never thought you could."

"Is there some sort of fancy dress thing on this evening?"

"I am so sorry. I've had a wobble. It's a big wobble, but it's fine. Forget about it."

"Where are you and are you in trouble?"

"Lying is a vital survival skill. And a terrible habit."

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"We're in the bad news! I'm living the bad news!"

"Why can't you just say it? Why can't you just say I did good?"

"You are enjoying this just a little bit too much."

"Don't make me say it."

"I don't want to be the last of my kind."

"I don't want to see more things. I want to see the things in front of me more clearly."

"I just want to know the truth. I don't care what it is. I just want to know it."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up. I need to talk to you."

"Oh, everything is better when you're here."

"Please speak to me. This is - this is killing me.

"I love you. And you are the last person who's ever going to hear me say that."

"By now, I'm sure you've heard the rumours, and it is with great sadness that I must confirm them to be true."

"He was alive, and then he was dead and it was nothing."

"Don't. Be very, very careful with that."

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to take control."

"I am in control. Do as you are told."

"I was curious about how far you would go."

"You betrayed me. Betrayed my trust, you betrayed our friendship, you betrayed everything that I've ever stood for."

"Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?"

"Speak for me again, I'll detach something from you."

"This isn't possible. The dead don't come back."

"Be strong, even if it breaks your heart."

"Say something only you could say. Tell me something only you would know."

"Whatever it takes, I will be with you again, I swear."

"So you know who I am, right?"

"Look, are you going to help me? Because I can't do this alone."

"And didn't all of those beautiful speeches just disappear in the face of a tactical advantage?"

"I wasn't very good at it, but I did love you."

"There's something that I have to tell you and, er, it's not good news so just - just listen, okay?"

"Never trust a hug. It's just a way to hide your face."

"Thank you for making me feel special."

#sentence starters #ask meme #starter meme #rp prompt #sentence meme #*dw #*s8

45 notes · View notes

oneatlatime · 8 months

Text

Return to Omashu

Fire nation priorities. Yes, there's a war to win, but first! We must make our colonies aesthetically consistent. Couple of gates, some gold trim, and some spiky bits! Can't forget the gold spiky bits!

Fulfilling the beat up Sokka quota this episode is raw sewage.

That sewer trek must have been long. They went in during the day and it's night now.

I spoke too soon! The quota is in fact filled by tribbles.

"it's so awful I'm dying." I get the feeling that Sokka has been waiting years to use that line. I love how quickly everyone in the Gaang supports each others' spontaneous plans. It's a sign of a good team if you can ream off fake names without blinking and fake the plague without being asked. They all work so well together. Zuko could take some lessons from these guys on lying.

Well this episode's going to land differently post-Covid.

Looks like Zuko Jr.'s going to be in this episode. Bummer. Although tweedledee and tweedledum are intriguing. Who'd ever think to give a teenage girl villain a pair of eighty year old poetry twins? One of the great things so far about this show is how they consistently choose to go with the most out-there option and always make it work. In a show about defeating the firelord, they chose to kill the moon for the finale. And it worked. The plot point, not the killing.

So I'm thinking that orange and yellow must be an acknowledged fashion choice among the four nations outside of an airbending context, because of the number of times fire nation guards have looked right at Aang and not seen him. Also I think his tattoos must have selective invisibility.

It's a crying shame that Hot Topic doesn't exist in the Avatar universe, because this May girl just passed their employment interview with flying colours. I'm siding with what I'm guessing is her mom on this one. Just chill for a bit.

Ok maybe don't chill for a bit. Yeah my bad. This is not a good time to chill.

Reusing the same Naruto run shot literally two seconds later.

How many projectiles can you fit in one pair of sleeves? She's got a whole armoury up there.

Seriously I know she's bored and all but no teenage girl should have access to that many weapons. If I'd had access to an armoury when I was a teenager, people absolutely would have died.

So cute. I'll take 12 please.

Every sentence that Zuko Jr. is saying to this pink girl is some kind of veiled insult or threat. I'd adopt Pink Girl's wilful obliviousness too if I had to deal with that.

Smart Bumi. He knows his people and his element. We've seen more than enough times already that something about being an earthbender makes you too stubborn to quit and unable to change plans even when your original plan is obviously not working (looking at you, Fong). So, knowing that his people are unable to change course, he prevents them from entering on to that course in the first place.

And Aang picks up on this too! Actually, since Bumi knew Aang growing up, do you think he picked up the concept of strategic retreat from airbending?

Tribbles to the rescue! Given that these are sewer dwelling creatures, this fake plague might turn real.

I love how casual Sokka is about touching other people.

Every street in Omashu seems to have a couple of bundles of twigs propped up against a wall somewhere. It's probably an animation trick to fill up the background.

Love the one guy really committing to the bit who just flops on the ground.

"Pentapox! I'm pretty sure I've heard of that." Humans are so suggestible.

I love that Flopsy remembers him. Aang's propensity to make friends wherever he goes paying off again. Also, exactly how much metal to the fire nation have access to? They're doing the floor, walls, ceilings, of the whole city. There must be some crazy budget surpluses that need using up.

This baby has an absurd throwing arm.

Machine gun Momo!

This is what happens when you don't feed your lemur AANG.

I know cartoon physics is a thing, but can this baby secretly fly or something?

Poor Momo didn't ask for any of this. Guy just wanted some berries. Now he's getting his tail pulled and bitten (hopefully no teeth yet).

Add absurd grip strength to this baby's list of other superhuman characteristics.

Baby apparently weighs quite a bit too.

Flying lemur unintentionally kidnaps baby. Did not see that coming.

Tiny nitpick: the circus master introduces Zuko jr. as "the firelord's daughter" rather than as Princess Zuko jr. Does she not have a title?

Nope. He's calling her princess now. Maybe there are a bunch of princesses in the fire nation and he was just being specific?

Thus begins the bullying of pink girl. Imagine going to school with a bunch of fire nation noble girls? There must have been casualties.

I love Sokka so much. Expert hug administrator.

"everything so clever. So tricky." Actually the avatar forgot to feed his lemur and it kind of snowballed from there. Hands down one of my favourite tropes is when one side in a conflict assumes their enemies are master manipulators, then we learn that actually they're just failing upwards through shenanigans. Love that.

Poor pink girl. The only viable strategy, both for her own safety and the safety of the whole circus, is appeasement.

"The universe is giving me strong hints that it's time for a career change." No blame cast, no fingers pointed, but also not giving Zuko jr. credit for influencing her. That's some fancy talking.

And now they're reusing the campsite shot too?

Poor Momo. That's about the face I make around babies.

I spoke too soon again. This episode's beat up Sokka quota is actually fulfilled by Katara's backhand. Because apparently it's a cardinal sin to prevent a baby from chewing on a potentially bladed weapon? Priorities girl.

Well that accidental kidnapping had some unintended positive consequences. Don't you love it when problems fix themselves?

She even paints her nails black and wears fingerless gloves. Seriously. Hot Topic. STAT.

"Well, Asula called a little louder." Hell of a lot of information in that sentence.

How long is her neck?

Ego much?

Zhao was an asshole and unpleasant, but at least he had some good banter. Zuko jr. is just mean. I hope I see less of her going forward.

Bumi! Hi Bumi! I love Bumi.

Pink girl's loyalty was tested with burning nets and released beasts. Now May's loyalty is tested with her brother's life. Zuko jr. is so good to her friends.

Why is no one able to recognise Aang? He's dressed like an airbender. The only one of those left is the avatar. It's not that hard.

Pink girl is lucky that Sokka is quite prone to friction.

More wood bundles. I guess it's for scaffolding?

Gotta give it to Zuko jr., she has excellent balance.

May has leg knives as well as arm knives?

And shirt knives. How does she not stab herself every time she sits down? And if this place is so boring, why does she feel the need to carry 8 billion knives?

Love the Appa tail slap. Underrated and underused move.

So Bumi has no spine left.

Facebending. Neat.

Neutral Jing is a neat concept, but I'll be damned if any earthbender we've seen apart from Bumi ever bothers with it.

Suddenly the 100 year gap between Aang and Bumi can no longer be ignored. Bumi is still Aang's friend, but he's got a century of learning and a city to protect. This is kind of a sad moment.

Do May and Zuko have some history? Is that's what's being implied here?

Wouldn't expect any less. I wonder how these two are going to explain the return of their son without painting the resistance in a really good light.

Zuko jr. is spelled with a Z.

Final Thoughts

Zuko Jr. gets a girl squad, the Gaang gets a reason to spend a season gallivanting all over the Earth Kingdom, and the audience gets to see Superslide part 2. A weird mix of establishing groundwork and having fun this episode.

I totally buy that the fire nation guards and governor fell for the plague thing. Anyone remember "that lemur! He's earthbending!" These guys are not smart.

The plague thing did not bother me at all. I thought it would, since the anti-science idiots in the Fortuneteller really annoyed me. I think since the fake plague was treated as a joke the whole way through, and never actually endangered anyone, it didn't bring up Covid memories.

I think Flopsy's pupils are sideways hourglasses, which contributes nicely to his uncanniness.

I think the stuffy that the baby was throwing is the same animal as the beaver bear thing at the circus.

I love Momo the machine gun. I think those are the same berries as the ones Iroh was going to double poison himself with.

Sokka getting to plan the plague and getting to save the day with boomerang was fun. That's two episodes in a row where he's been the plan guy. Katara got to use some of her new and improved waterbending as well, but she was really pushed to the background otherwise.

I think pink Girl, whose name I still haven't caught, is quite good at reading people. I caught more than one 'shallow-on-the-surface-but-actually-way-deep' statement from her. Also she can Vulcan pinch people's bending? I'm guessing it's temporary or else Katara would be really freaking out.

May was just too much. Too overdone. Yes, there are teenage girls like that, but it felt a bit on the nose. Actually, way too much on the nose. I get that she can't show any emotion in front of Zuko jr. for her own safety, but "can I offer you an egg fireflakes in this trying time?" is not exactly an appropriate response to your little brother's disappearance.

I'm still not liking Zuko jr. But I'm someone who never likes the villain anyway, at least not when our heroes are this likeable.

This episode was not easy on Aang. It was an interesting mix of bringing home the reality of the war and the reality of the time passed. Even when he seemingly got to save his friend in the end, he actually didn't because things are more complicated now. He untied the damsel from the railroad track and she tied herself right back on.

Further evidence for my 'entire fire nation is colourblind' theory this episode. Aang was not disguised apart from a hat made from a very incriminating colour. He had a giant blue stripe down the back of his head! Come on!

No Zuko this episode. He was last seen stealing a perfectly nice lady's bird horse, and it'll be a while before I forgive him for that, so good call by the writers to not have him around.

Now that I think about it, there was a lot going on this episode. Sewer break & enter, assassination attempt, fake plague, hostage exchange, water v. knife fight, fire v. air fight, vulcan pinch v. bending fight, Boomerang & bison v. knife fight, earthbending philosophy, girl squad assembly, lemur harassment, and baby restoration. This episode felt long in a good way.

How about, instead of learning the elements, Aang learns pink girl's vulcan pinch and just does that to the fire lord?

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #return to omashu #avatar the last airbender

62 notes · View notes

lumosandnoxwriting · 4 months

Text

tis the damn season || Fred Weasley

Title: ‘tis the damn season Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: and the only heart I’m breaking is my own Warnings: NSFW - mentions of vaginal sex. A/N: a muggle AU b/c something like this isn’t really plausible with the whole apparition thing and i love this song too much to not write a song inspired by it. I started this over a year ago and have just recently gotten back to it to finish! It didn’t quite end up the way I imagined it but i kinda just let the words take me where they wanted to go. Hope you enjoy!

He can’t remember the last time he was back.

His old life always feels so far away down in London. Like his memories of growing up in Ottery belong to someone else, and Fred’s just watching them on film.

London is just so different. Busier in a way that Ottery never will be, with its barely populated town center and handful of businesses down Main Street. If you put the whole village together it would probably only span three blocks of London, including all the scant cottages that are just barely considered to be part of the village; the piece of land The Burrow is situated on included.

The joke shop and his friends and life in general barely give him enough time to give Mum and Dad a call, let alone pop down for the weekend to visit. Not to mention retirement is treating the Weasley parriarchal well, allowing them to split their time between all of their children and the various parts of the world life has taken them.

But it seems a grapple with nostalgia has led all of the Weasley children back to Ottery St. Catchpole this Christmas. Bill and Fleur took over the helm of hosting the family celebration years ago, when they decided traveling back to England with a baby was harder than hosting a slew of Weasleys at their cottage in the French countryside. So it caught Fred by surprise when his Mum called last month, letting him and George know not to bother booking a ticket to France, since they’d be doing Christmas the old fashioned way this year.

At Molly’s request they’ve all taken the next two weeks off from work and made the trek back home, for one more Christmas at The Burrow. Fred would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit disappointed in the change of plans this year. He spent so much of his life trying to find a way out of Ottery, so driving back up here has left him with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Which is why he left George at home as soon as they’d pulled in the driveway, needing to take a second for himself.

He doesn’t realize he’s been sitting on a bench in town square, staring into the abyss until a quiet voice calls out to him.

“Fred?”

Despite the time that’s gone by he’d recognize that voice anywhere. Y/N.

“Hey,” he greets casually, turning to look at her as he tries to pretend his heart hasn’t plummeted into his stomach. There’s a beanie pulled down tight over her hair and her cheeks are rosy from the cold, but she’s just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. It’d been right in this very place, he’d given her one last look through the rearview mirror as he and George left for good.

Back then her face had been red from the tears she’d shed as he said goodbye, her eyebrows drawn together in frustration. The look on her face today is indifferent, and Fred can’t tell if he should be upset or relieved at that.

“You’re home,” Y/N states, voice even.

“Yeah,” Fred replies simply.

Their words hang in the air around them, both of them just looking at each other while they try and find something to say.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess. Unless you’re just stopping through?” Y/N asks, the tone of her voice curious, with just the barest hint of hope.

Fred nods, gesturing down the road with his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’m in town for a bit. Staying at Mum and Dad’s for the holiday and all.”

“Ah, okay. Cool. Cool,” Y/N responds, rocking back and forth on her heels for a moment. “See you around, then.”

In the next second she’s gone, walking past Fred without a second glance back his way.

Once Y/N has disappeared Fred heads back towards The Burrow, unable to tell exactly why that funny feeling is still there in the pit of his stomach.

“Freddie, Georgie! Long time no see, Lads!”

The pub is loud, but somehow Dean’s voice overpowers it all and the boys easily find the table their old friends have commandeered for the evening. It’s tucked away in the corner, close enough to the bar that they’ll have no problem getting drink refills, but far enough away from the general rowdiness that they’ll be able to have a conversation without having to shout at each other.

All the lads stand up as Fred and George approach, each one taking a turn to pull them each into a hug - as if no time has passed at all. Fred’s embarrassed to admit how long it’s been since he texted one of his old hometown friends, let alone sat down to catch up with them. It had been easier when they first moved to London, they were all young and carefree and it was normal for Fred and George’s living room to be taken over by the lads every few weeks for a Boy’s weekend in the big city.

But as time went on Fred and George got busier, their dream had started to become a reality and investor meetings and paperwork became their priority. And it’s not like things only changed for them either. It seemed like one by one their friends started to find serious partners, and time with the boys started to take a backseat to time spent with their significant other. And now Fred and George are the only two of the group who aren’t married with a kid or two.

“Look at our big London boys, taking time out of their busy ol’ schedules to slum it here up north with the rest of us,” Lee teases, toasting his beer to the boys before he takes a long drag. “We’re honored you could fit in some time to see us, truly.”

“You’re all a bunch of prats who don’t deserve our time,” George shoots back, winking as he drinks from the beer Tom had pressed into his palm. “And truly the honor is ours, I know changing diapers and feeding babies is important work and we appreciate you sacrificing your time to sit here at the pub with us.”

“You can laugh all you want now, boys - but just be ready to get it back tenfold once you degenerates decide to finally settle down and become family men,” Dean chuckles.

Fred takes a long sip of his beer, letting the cool liquid run down his dry throat. Because sure there have been plenty of girls since Y/N. But they’ve all been short term, casual - some of them so brief he doesn’t remember their name or what they look like. There’s only one girl he’s ever imagined that kind of life with, and he’s sure that ship sailed the second he left town without her.

“You boys ready for another round yet?”

Fred swears he must have done something epic to piss off whatever cosmic being exists out there, because for the second time today he’s blindsided by Y/N’s sudden appearance. He keeps his eyes downcast, suddenly super thirsty as he takes another long drink in order to avoid interacting with her again.

“Do you even have to ask?” Lee answers with a hearty laugh.

“Some things never change,” she responds with a lighthearted eye roll, collecting the empties from the table. “I’ll be right back with those.”

Fred finally looks up, his eyes following Y/N as she disappears back into the crowd. He feels like he can breathe again, and he finally sets his empty beer bottle back on the table. Their interaction earlier is still fresh in his mind and despite how uneasy their short interaction left him - he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping he’d run into Y/N again. He just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.

“She teaches year one, over at the primary school.” Fred’s eyes meet Dean’s, his cheeks flushing at the realization he’d been caught. “All the kids love her. Daisy has her this year and I swear everyday when she gets home all she does is gush about Y/N. She works here on the weekends to help her Uncle out.”

Fred finds his eyes trailing back to where Y/N had disappeared to, hoping he might catch another glimpse of her. He’s happy to hear that she’s teaching, that him wrecking their plans of a future together didn’t deter her from following her other dreams. He looks back to Dean then, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Daisy’s already in first year? You’re a proper old git aren’t ya, mate?” he teases in an effort to move the conversation in a direction that doesn’t involve the feeling of regret that’s suddenly started to creep up his throat.

“Are you stalking me?”

Fred turns around at the sound of her voice, goosebumps shivering down his neck. He’d come down to the creek for some solitude, already getting tired of having his siblings and their families crammed into the Burrow after only three days. But of course, this had been their spot, so he’s not all too surprised that Y/N had found him here.

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” he teases, breath catching in his throat at the smile that takes over her face. “I was here first, and I was at the town square first the other day too. Seems to me like I’m the one being followed.”

Y/N shakes her head with a quiet laugh, taking a few steps down the embankment so she’s closer to Fred. “And what about the other night at the pub, hm? What about then?”

“Happy accident,” Fred answers with a shrug, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like there’s other pubs in the village to hang out at.” He can tell he struck a nerve based on the way Y/N’s eye twitches, and silence grows between them as his brain scrambles to think of something else to say.

“All those years in London and Ottery is still too small for you?”

There isn’t any anger or resentment in her voice, and Fred takes that as a win. In the few months before Fred and George finally took the plunge and moved to London he and Y/N had been fighting more than ever, and like an idiot he forgot that most of those fights revolved around his need to get out of their hometown. While he found Ottery’s size suffocating, Y/N found it charming and more than once she’d made it clear to Fred that the only place she could ever imagine raising a family was the little village they’d grown up in.

So instead of making her choose between her own dreams and his, Fred decided to leave. It broke something in him that day, watching Y/N get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as they drove away. But he knew moving to London would have broken Y/N too, and he’d rather die than see her become someone she isn’t.

So, he left with no intentions of ever coming back.

And yet here they are again.

“What can I say, I’m a city boy now through and through.”

Y/N hums, giving Fred one last glance before she starts to walk along the creek, and it only takes a moment of hesitation before he follows. She’s walking slow enough that it only takes a few strides for Fred to catch up, and before he knows it they’re walking side by side, arms just barely brushing as they move.

“It’s everything you ever wanted then?” Y/N inquires after a few quiet minutes. Her eyes are downcast, and Fred is thankful that she can’t seem to look at him. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle it.

“It is, yeah,” Fred answers honestly, swallowing thickly. “The store is better than everything George and I ever dreamed of. And the friends we’ve made are amazing. It’s better than I ever imagined.”

“That’s good,” she responds, voice curt. “So you don’t regret leaving everything behind to start a new life?”

“Not everything,” Fred answers honestly again, his voice laden with remorse.

She stops in her tracks then, turning to finally face Fred. He stops too, barely able to bring his eyes to meet hers. He can tell by the way she exhales that she’s upset, but he can’t find himself feeling sorry for what he said. Because all of it is true.

He realized it the other night, after they got back from the pub and he couldn’t sleep. That weird feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there, and he couldn’t figure out why. He thought seeing his old friends would ease it, that he was nervous about seeing them again after so long and it wouldn’t feel the same as it used to. But the night couldn’t have gone better, they all picked right back up as if no time had passed at all.

And yet the feeling had only gotten worse.

When he fluffed his pillow for the hundredth time his fingers brushed against something under it, and when he pulled it out his stomach dipped even further. It was a picture from high school that George took of Fred and Y/N. She was wrapped up in his arms as she smiled for the camera, but Fred had been looking at her. He’s looking at Y/N with so much love you’d think she’d hung the moon and the stars and in that moment Fred realizes that she did. She was the universe, and Fred was a mere mortal lucky enough to be caught in her orbit.

And it’s in that moment that he finally realizes what that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach is.

Regret.

“Fuck you, Fred,” Y/N finally responds, voice full of anger. “I stood there in the middle of town square crying as I begged you not to leave. As I begged you not to leave me behind like everything we had meant nothing to you. And now all these years later you have the audacity to stand here and tell me that you’re only regret in life is leaving me behind.”

She turns on her heel and storms away, and Fred immediately follows. “Will you just let me explain?” he calls as he catches up. He grab’s Y/N’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks so he can pull her back towards him.

Suddenly her body is pressed up against his, and Fred’s heart feels like it might beat right out of his chest. He can’t remember the last time they were this close and he instinctively reaches up to cup her cheek. “Please,” he begs. “Don’t run away from me.”

Snow has started to softly fall around them, and Fred feels like he can’t breathe as her eyes finally rise to meet his. “Please,” he whispers, afraid that if he speaks too loud it’ll break whatever trance they’ve fallen into.

A softly murmured Fred is Y/N’s only response, and before he can second guess himself Fred leans down and kisses Y/N slowly - finally feeling like he’s home.

“This is still your go to hiding place I see.”

Y/N doesn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice, as if she was expecting him to find her here. Which wouldn’t surprise Fred in the slightest. They used to be so in sync it was as if they shared a brain - and he’s happy to find that time and distance hasn’t changed that one bit.

When she does nothing to acknowledge his presence Fred heaves a sigh, taking a step closer to where Y/N sits. “Ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away. It only fuels me to stick around to annoy you further.”

That earns him a glare, and he can’t help but smile. “There’s my girl,” he teases.

“Oh fuck off Fred,” Y/N responds, but there’s no malice in her voice.

Fred takes that as an invitation to come closer, and he sits down on the empty swing next to her. His mind has been racing since Y/N took off after their kiss a few hours earlier, and now that he’s here with her it’s finally starting to quiet down. He’s not really sure what possessed him to kiss her, and even now that he can think straight his brain has yet to come up with something decent to say to her.

They just sit there staring straight ahead for who knows how long, feet just barely pushing against the ground so they can slowly swing back and forth. Wind curls around them as it blows, but Fred hardly feels the chill as he thinks about the girl sitting beside him. He hasn’t thought about her for years, and all it’s taken is three days and a few brief interactions for his thoughts to be consumed with Y/N once again.

“I can’t do it again.”

It’s Y/N that finally breaks the silence, and Fred turns so he can look at her. She doesn’t meet his gaze, but Fred can see the way her lip trembles and he has to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her.

“When you left,” she continues, taking a deep breath. “When you left before it broke me, Fred. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. It took months for my life to get back on track and over a year for me to start to finally feel normal again. I got my degree and started teaching, started dating again-“ she pauses as Fred flinches at those words. “Point is I moved on from you, and I can’t do it all over again. I can’t let you back in just for you to leave again.”

Y/N finally turns to look at him, and when Fred opens his mouth to respond she puts her hand up to stop him.

“But I also can’t ignore the way that kiss made me feel. Because nothing I’ve done in the years since you left has ever made me feel like that and I can’t go around just pretending that you have no effect over me. Not if I’m going to survive seeing you around over the next few weeks.”

“So what are you saying?” Fred asks after a moment. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what Y/N is saying - but he needs to hear it come from her.

“I’m saying that as long as we can agree that whatever is going on between us is just for this time that you’re back in town - then I’m in. No real feelings, no talking about our future. Just me and you and the next two weeks. Do you agree?”

Fred knows that he should walk away. That he should say no, stand up and walk away from Y/N and just avoid her for the rest of this trip. But Fred is selfish, and the only thing he wants in this moment is Y/N and whatever parts of herself she’ll allow him to have - even if just for a short period of time.

So instead of walking away, Fred nods - forcing a grin on his face. “I do.”

“How the fuck is your cunt still so tight,” Fred groans as he buries his face in Y/N’s neck.

She’s sinking down onto his cock for the third time today, and the way she squeezes around him is making his head spin. They hadn’t wasted any time after their talk in the park. As soon as the words left Fred’s mouth they were on each other, Fred pressed her against the swing set as they kissed and he’d been tempted to fuck her right there in the middle of the park. But ever the responsible one, Y/N had managed to hold Fred off long enough for her to drag them down the block to her place.

He took her for the first time against her front door, both of them still fully dressed with their pants pulled down just enough for Fred to slide his cock into her cunt. It had been frantic and uncoordinated but still perfect and over embarrassingly too quickly. Which is why Fred took Y/N for the second time on her couch a few steps away. He managed to get them both undressed as they stumbled into the living room, and he spent so much time on his knees kissing and licking at her pussy that he’s sure to have rug burn in the morning.

For the third time they finally managed to make it into bed. After she came in his mouth and around his cock Fred finally felt satisfied enough to take his time. He kissed Y/N slowly as they made their way down the hall, stopping periodically to press her up against the wall. When they fell into bed she’d crawled right on top, whispering into his mouth about how it was her turn to take control.

Which is how they got here, with Fred’s mouth pressing kisses from her neck to her collarbone, her hips moving against him as she rides his cock at an achingly slow pace. It feels too perfect and too much like home for Fred to handle, so he grips her hips and kisses Y/N hard to avoid saying the things that are running on a loop in his mind. His thumb finds her clit as Y/N words herself on his cock, rubbing circles in time with her movement to push her closer and closer to another climax.

“Fred, fuck,” Y/N moans breathily as his lips trail back down her neck, toes curling as that familiar feeling pools in the pit of her stomach for what feels like the dozenth time tonight. Fred knows her body even better than she does, and it's embarrassing how quickly Fred has already brought her to the edge of another orgasm. Sex has never felt like this with anyone but Fred, and Y/N already regrets agreeing to a temporary fling.

Because being here with Fred already feels too much like coming home.

All it takes is one more final whispered, “That’s my girl, come for me,” from Fred to push Y/N over the edge. Pleasure washes over her in waves, electric shocks radiating from the tips of her toes to the top of her head as her cunt clenches around Fred’s cock, bringing him over the edge with her.

As they both come down Fred gently rolls over, resting so that they’re both on their sides facing each other, his cock still buried deep inside. He knows he should pull out before they both get too uncomfortable, but some primal urge keeps him from moving an inch.

Neither one says anything, chests heaving to catch their breath as they look into each other’s eyes. Fred figures he should say something to break the heaviness in the air that has settled around them, but Y/N is so warm against him and her bed is so soft that he can’t find the energy to do much besides pull her in even closer so that their bodies are practically one as they drift off to sleep.

Fred spends the days leading up to Christmas at home with his siblings, taking the time to reminisce about their childhood while always finding new ways to create mischief with his plethora of nieces and nephews. For as much as he was dreading coming back to Ottery, Fred actually finds himself having a lot of fun, and he finds that he doesn’t miss London as much as he thought he would.

And he’s sure that spending his nights in Y/N’s bed has played a role in that as well.

Once everyone heads to bed at night he sneaks back out, taking the short walk into town to meet Y/N. Sometimes she’s closing up her Uncle’s pub, and Fred sits at the bar and harasses her as she completes all of her closing tasks before walking her back to her place. Other times she’s waiting for him in the town square after coming from her parents or running an errand, and Fred kisses her right there to try and erase the thoughts of him watching her get smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.

But most nights she’s already in bed waiting, the porch light on and the door unlocked so he can slip inside. Those nights are his favorite because it’s easy to pretend that this is their life. That Fred’s coming home to his favorite girl and their warm bed after working late or hanging out at the pub with his friends - instead of him coming over for a quick fuck and a few hours of sleep before he has to sneak back into his parent’s house.

Christmas Eve comes upon them quicker than Fred would like, and they agree not to see each other until Boxing Day - neither one wanting their family to catch them in the act. Fred barely gets any sleep that night, tossing and turning so much George throws a pillow at him in warning. Less than a week he’s been sleeping beside Y/N and Fred already is having trouble sleeping on his own.

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that in one more week he’ll be back to sleeping alone.

The kids wake everyone up far too early on Christmas morning, and as Fred trudges down the stairs the only thing on his mind is how he might be able to sneak away to see Y/N for a few minutes. After presents are opened and breakfast is eaten, Fred is just about ready to implement his plan to see Y/N under the guise of an after meal walk when his parents drop the news.

“I’m just so happy you all took the time to come spend the holidays with us here back home this year. It really warms my old heart to see all my babies back under my roof,” his mother starts, hand pressed against her heart.

“But your Father and I have been talking a lot this year about what our future looks like and well,” she pauses, looking over her shoulder at Arthur.”

“We’ve decided to sell The Burrow,” he announces, resting a comforting hand on Molly’s shoulder. Ginny stands in protest, and Arthur puts a hand up to stop her. “It’s far too big of an undertaking for just your mother and I, and between all the traveling we do to visit you all we only spend a few days a month here. That’s why we decided to hold the holidays here just one last time, so we could fill this place with love and laughter one more time before we give another family the opportunity to make their own memories here.”

Bill, acting in his big brother duty, is the first to speak up.

“I know this decision must not have been easy for the two of you to make, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that while it is going to be hard to wrap our minds around the fact that The Burrow won’t be ours anymore - we respect your decision and are happy that you guys are following your dreams.”

“Yeah, we love this place,” Ginny starts, getting up to hug Molly and Arthur. “But we love you more, and we support you in any way that you need.”

They all murmur similar sentiments as they join Ginny and their parents in a group hug, but Fred finds himself not really meaning any of the words coming out of his mouth. He was just starting to find the joy in coming home to Ottery, and now there won’t really be a home to come back to. The thought of making some excuse to come up and visit Mum and Dad in the new year was the only thing that made the thought of leaving Y/N next week tolerable - and now he doesn’t even have that to hold on to.

“You alright?” George asks as they separate from the hug, nudging Fred’s shoulder with his own.

He nods, putting the best smile he can manage on his face. “Yeah, just busting at the seams from all that food. Think I’m going to take a walk - make some room for Christmas dinner.”

George gives him a look that screams he knows Fred is up to something, but he just gives his brother a nod in acknowledgement. “Alright, mate. See you in a bit.”

The second he grabs his coat Fred is slipping out the front door, phone already in hand to convince Y/N to sneak away to meet him.

“You’re not going to try and fuck me out here, are you? Because getting arrested for public indecency is definitely not how I want to spend my Christmas,” Y/N jokes as she approaches. But as soon as she sees the look on Fred’s face the smile drops from her own, and she takes the swing next to him. “What happened? Did someone die?”

“Just my childhood,” he responds dryly.

“Elaborate, please.”

Fred heaves a sigh. “Mum and Dad are selling the burrow, they announced it after breakfast.”

“Oh,” Y/N exhales, taken by surprise. “I’m sorry.”

Except her tone sounds more confused than comforting, and Fred gives her a questioning look. “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Sorry it’s just, you confuse the fuck out of me Fred. You haven’t been home in years, in fact you ran the hell out of here like your ass was on fire and never even looked back. And now you’re acting as if your life is over because your parents are selling their house when in reality it’s not going to have any effect on you or your life.”

Fred scoffs, pushing off of the swing so he can slowly pace back and forth. “I just, I don’t know. Always thought that they’d be there to come home to if I ever needed it. And recent events have made me think that maybe coming home every once in a while isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Don’t,” Y/N states firmly, standing up as well. “Before we started this you agreed that it was a one time only thing. No talking about the future, no real feelings. Just us fucking around until you run back off to London in the New Year.”

“Well I’ve changed my mind,” he announces. “I want to talk about the future and have real feelings. Because this past week has been the best week I’ve had in years. Seeing the lads, running around the burrow with everyone, spending time with you. This is the life I’ve been missing out on and I don’t want to miss anymore.”

“Fuck you,” Y/N spits. “Where was this revelation ten years ago when you left me crying by the side of the road while you went off to start a new life without me? I’m sorry that you regret your decisions in life Fred, but it’s too little too late. I can’t trust you anymore. We talked about starting a life here and then you fucked off to London and now you want to come back here and expect me to just jump back in where we left off? Who’s to say you won’t regret this decision in ten more years and you’ll abandon me here with kids and a house and a whole fucking life you just decide to throw away? I’ve spent enough of my life picking up the pieces that you broke and I’m done.”

Fred’s crying silently as she storms away from him, and it’s far too familiar to the scene he left behind all those years ago. Except Fred had turned back to give Y/N one last glance, but she keeps her head forward as she leaves him behind.

They leave to go back to London on New Year's Day. Christmas is usually their biggest time of year, and both Fred and George want to get back so that the employees who covered for them can get some much deserved time off. Fred had texted Y/N to let her know when they planned on leaving in case she wanted to say goodbye, and despite not getting a response he remains hopeful until the moment they start the car up to leave.

Fred keeps his eyes forward as they drive away from the burrow, steadily ignoring the way his twin looks at him from the passenger seat. He knows he’s been acting weird since Y/N left him standing alone in the park, hoping that his behavior can be attributed to the fact that their parents are selling their childhood home and not the fact that he somehow managed to break his own heart.

“You alright?” George asks as they drive through Ottery one last time.

“No,” Fred answers honestly, looking over at his brother from the corner of his eye. That ache that settled in his bones when they first arrived two weeks ago is back with a vengeance, and it only hurts more knowing he’s the reason why it’s there. “I’ll feel better once we’re home.”

“Yeah, I guess London really is our home now.”

Fred just hums in acknowledgement, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for one last look at Ottery as they leave for good.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fread weasley fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fw #golden

51 notes · View notes

jebewonmorelike · 1 year

Text

The Shirt (Happy Birthday Ricky!)

wc: 1.5k warnings: fluff, angst/ricky getting scared but its silly, some swearing, ricky admiring jiwoong, and a dash (heap) of crack summary: zb1 decides to pull a good old-fashioned hidden camera prank on ricky for his birthday... things go horribly wrong. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ inspired by this tweet that accompanied the pap photo above^^ could not stop laughing about it. this started as a hidden camera prank idea (and it still is sort of) that i pitched to lex (bp-zb1fics) but as i kept writing it... it got sillier and sillier i'm so sorry. but yujin being like one of the twins from the shining to ricky is so hilarious. HAPPY RICKY DAY!! WE LOVE YOU SM ALREADY KING. WISHING NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS AND SUCCESS AND A HUG FROM JIWOONG FOR OUR CHARISMA BOSS LOVELICKY. hope y'all in joy this lil comedy piece lol.

Ricky smiles at himself in his dressing room mirror. Sure, he was working on his birthday, but at least he had the best job in the world. Having already had his hair styled and his makeup applied for ZB1's photoshoot today, he admires his specially curated appearance.

I wonder what our outfits will be like for today's shoot, Ricky thinks.

Just then, the door to his dressing room opens.

"Ricky," Jiwoong calls, walking over to where the blonde boy is sitting in front of the large vanity mirror. "Did you have that lint roller with you?"

"Oh, sure," Ricky says with a small, blushing smile; walking over to his bag and pulling out the lint remover. Just as he's about to hand the roller to Jiwoong, Ricky is stopped in his tracks when he notices something very peculiar about his hyung's outfit.

“Jiwoong hyung,” Ricky says, eyes wide with surprise as he takes in the sight of the oldest’s shirt. “Why are you wearing a t-shirt with my face on it…?”

“Oh, am I?" Jiwoong replies, brows furrowed curiously as he turns to view himself in the mirror. After a moment, he simply shrugs. "Huh, I guess I am."

Ricky stares at his oldest hyung confusedly, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Where had Jiwoong gotten that shirt? How had it found its way onto his body?

Was this Jiwoong's way of finally confessing his reciprocated feelings for him?

Before the thought spiral can continue, another member walks into his dressing room. Ricky turns around to see who it is, his eyes bulging in shock once more.

"Hey, have you guys seen one of my sun earrings lying around?" Gunwook asks, standing in the middle of Ricky and Jiwoong as he looks into the large vanity mirror. He turns his head from side to side, checking his hair from the different angles.

"Why--," Ricky falters, unable to believe his eyes as the image of his own face on Gunwook's black t-shirt stares back at him-- matching Jiwoong's exactly. "Why... Why are you both wearing shirts with my face on them!?"

"Oh, are we?” Gunwook responds with a frown. He takes the bottom of the t-shirt and stretches it out a bit so he can look down and examine it. "You think it looks like you? I think it's actually an old picture of Jiwoong hyung..."

"What!? It's not Jiwoong hyung!" Ricky exclaims, pointing to the image of his own face on the younger boy's t-shirt. Tapping his finger against the delicate, black neck tattoo that is clearly visible in the picture. "See, that's my tattoo!"

Gunwook squints. "Huh."

"It does kind of look like me now that you mention it," Jiwoong says suddenly, nodding in thought.

"You're not serious are you!? It's clearly me and no one has answered my question yet as to why you're--."

Ricky is steadily growing closer to losing his temper when another knock at the dressing room door cuts him off. In walk Hao and Matthew and, much to Ricky's relief, neither of the boys are wearing shirts with his face plastered on them.

"Hey, did you--," Matthew starts to ask before his eyes land on Gunwook and Jiwoong's t-shirts. He frowns, a little pout forming on his lips as he stares at them in confusion before asking, "Why are you guys wearing shirts with Jiwoon hyung's face on them?"

"OH COME ON!" Ricky shouts, hands flying wildly about as he gestures to the t-shirts. "It's my face!!"

Hao walks up to Jiwoong, examining the shirt for himself up close. After a few moments, he nods back at Ricky, "Yeah, I could see why you might think it's your face.”

"IT IS--," Ricky starts to yell before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "It is my face. Look, I can even show you where the picture is from."

Pulling out his phone and scrolling through his photos quickly, Ricky finds the paparazzi photo of himself that has been blown up on Gunwook and Jiwoong's t-shirts. Turning his phone towards the other boys, he waits eagerly with wide eyes for them to finally agree with him.

After several moments of silence, Gunwook says with a smirk, "You have paparazzi photos of yourself saved on your phone?"

"UGH!" Ricky huffs, marching towards the door and flinging it open in a fit of annoyance. He steps out into the hallway, ready to decompress for a long minute before finding a staff member and (politely) demanding some answers as to what was going on.

But Ricky's plans are foiled almost immediately as he turns the corner to find Taerae and Gyuvin sitting in folding chairs next to each other...

Wearing the shirt.

"NO!" Ricky shouts, causing the two boys to look up at him concernedly.

"Hey, Ricky," Taerae says with a broad smile. "What's up?"

"Why aren't you wearing your outfit yet?" Gyuvin asks, one eyebrow cocked curiously. "Wasn't it in your dressing room?"

"You should put it on."

A small voice suddenly rings out behind Ricky, who spins around as quickly as humanly possible to find Yujin staring back at him ominously from down the hallway... adorned in the shirt.

"Holy shit," Ricky whispers, darting off down the hallway in the opposite direction of the youngest member (whom he is now deathly afraid of).

Ricky runs through the hallways of the photoshoot location, finally ending up back at his original dressing room. Opening the door, he races inside only to be met by seven ZB1 members staring back at him: all now wearing the shirt.

"OH MY GOD!" Ricky yells as the door to the dressing room opens again.

"Ricky!" Hanbin calls, a dimpled smile lighting up his face.

"Thank god, Hanbin hyung," Ricky cries, sighing with relief. "Please, you have to help me, they're all wearing shirts with my face on them and I have no idea why and I'm so scared of Yujin now and--..."

Ricky's voice trails off as Hanbin unzips his jacket to reveal the shirt underneath. "HYUNG... YOU'RE ONE OF THEM!"

"How come you aren't wearing your Ricky shirt, Ricky?" Hao asks, holding out another identical shirt for the blonde boy to take. "It's the concept for our photoshoot!"

"The concept for the photoshoot..." Ricky repeats slowly, eyes glued open with panic and confusion. "Is this t-shirt with my face on it?"

All of the boys nod excitedly.

"But--... but... Why!?"

Hanbin tsks disapprovingly. "Our stylists worked hard to make these for us! Are you really going to insult them by questioning their vision?"

Ricky looks around at all of the boys around him, who are smiling back at him robotically. It sends a chill down his spine. "No... No of course not... But..."

"Then put on the shirt, Ricky," Gyuvin says, gesturing to the shirt.

"Yeah," Jiwoong repeats. "Put on the shirt, Ricky."

All of the boys now begin chanting in a monotone: "Put on the shirt, Ricky." They surround the tall, blonde boy, slowly closing in on him as Hao continues to push the shirt towards him.

Ricky starts to turn around, ready to bolt from his friends who have obviously been possessed by some demon with really good taste in men, but--.

"Put on the shirt, Ricky."

Yujin's blank, haunted smile stops the boy in his tracks and renders him immobile. Ricky falls to the ground, curling up into a ball on the floor as he attempts to make the members of ZB1 disappear by burying his head into his hands. He stays this way for awhile, paralyzed with his newfound fear of the boys he was supposed to conquer the world of K-Pop with.

"Has he really not caught on yet?" Ricky hears a voice he recognizes to be Matthew's after a few moments.

"I think we might've underestimated how dumb Ricky is," Hao says with a sigh. "Like, I knew he was dumb, but I didn't think he was 'believe our company would make us wear shirts with his face on them for an official photoshoot' dumb."

"I think the oversight might actually have been his vanity," Gunwook counters with a laugh. "He didn't even question that a shirt with his face on it existed. He just wanted to know why we were wearing them."

Ricky sits up now, staring untrustingly at his friends with wide eyes. "What... What's going on?"

Hanbin grimaces. "We were trying to play a prank on you where we pretended that our stylists had made these shirts with your face on them for our photoshoot, but... I think we let it go too far."

Ricky looks back and forth between his members, watching as they all smile awkwardly at him.

"Sorry," Taerae says first, prompting the rest of them to begin to mumble their apologies.

"We just wanted to do a fun prank for your birthday!" Gyuvin says, pulling a Go-Pro camera out from behind his back. "Say hi to the camera..."

Ricky frowns into the lens; unamused. "You guys suck."

"Well, if it makes a difference..." Matthew says with a sheepish smile. "We've got cake!"

"CAKE!" Gunwook, Taerae and Gyuvin exclaim, bouncing up and down together excitedly.

"The staff is setting it up in the hallway right now," Hanbin says as the three most energetic members run out of the room to devour their weight in cake. Hanbin, Hao and Matthew follow them out, leaving Ricky and Jiwoong alone in the dressing room.

"I'm sorry, Ricky," the oldest boy says, a lopsided smile on his face as he apologizes. He walks over to Ricky, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "If it makes you feel any better, I actually really like this shirt. I think I'm gonna keep it."

Ricky's oldest hyung winks as he, too, exits the dressing room.

A huge grin spreads across the boy's face. He might have just spent the last ten minutes fearing for his life, but the compliment from his hyung had made it all worth it to Ricky.

He sighs happily, fixing his hair in the mirror absentmindedly as he prepares to join the rest of his members for his impromptu birthday celebration but…

Suddenly, Yujin pops out from behind Ricky-- smiling at him through the mirror.

"Put on the shirt, Ricky."

65 notes · View notes

ivyveil · 2 years

Text

Support Your Local Business (Eddie Munson)

the one where Y/N was her old school's main plug and Eddie doesn't need competition fucking up his sales

genre: dr*gs :O, they get physically close <3, Y/N has a diary which is honestly a trigger for some people (including me b/c I forget to write in mine)

A/N: Inspiration from this idea I had. Trying to get my feet wet again in the realm of fanfic, would love to know your <3 thoughts <3 and if there's any ideas y'all have as well! The ST universe is sooo interesting and Eddie is genuinely a deeply fleshed out character for :'( what happened :'( ANYWAY enjoy and ty for reading!

Navigating the druggies of a high school is more complex than people give credit for. Frankly, it’s an art.

You’d be safe to assume the art kids dabbled, their paintbrushes swapped for poorly rolled joints and their sketchbooks crammed ajar by plant bits along the spines. Athletes were a hit-or-miss, depending on their aspirations to make it in the Big Leagues of universities, but as those with their own secrets tend to do, they wouldn’t be likely to rat you out to any semblance of authority. The more studious of the student population were almost guaranteed to be customers around finals, and it was within your moral code to give swell discounts if they’d pass your name along to those at their tutoring sessions. A symbiotic environment, if you will, requires a constant input of energy to maintain homeostasis. And from roots to powders to flowers, you were the main girl for energy.

But that was Micanopy, Florida. And this was Hawkins, Indiana.

School had been in session for a few weeks now, your entrance and new-ness to the small town having begun to lose its sparkly edges. Eyes only tended to follow your shape when you'd fuck up the fashion taste of the Midwest again, being a newcomer to actual seasons and all. But to no worry, for this meant: it was time to set up shop.

You had some stash left over from your time in Florida. Having to leave in the middle of summer meant you had been maintaining an inventory to carry you through the parties drenched in humidity and sloppy mosquitoes, but couldn’t clean it out quick enough before the landlord began tossing your shit out of the AC and into the swamp. He only had so much mercy for a minor who was obviously lying about when their parents were coming back - and more importantly, was 3 months behind on rent.

A rare sense of desperation had led you to call your grandparents, on your mother’s side, who were still living nestled in Hawkins and had no clue where their Lucinda was, either. Aghast at the notion of you making it by on your own, they opened their doors immediately and scrapped some of their savings to pay for your flight up. While grateful, you were beginning to understand why your mother had made her Great Escape from the small-ass town to begin with.

But the monotony of attending a dreary school, heading home, ensuring your grandmother had the oven turned on for dinner, and heading back out to the Hawkins High Gymnasium to trade out some baggies was a cycle you’d never settle into too deep of a comfort with, as one overly warm Tuesday would shake it up forever.

“What d’you think you’re doing, exactly?”

The sound came before the visual, a shadow cutting off your inspection of your nail beds.

Berkeley, an acquaintance from your geography class and your local business promoter, had just disappeared around the corner and you hadn’t expected company til the next group of shifty juniors arrived at 4:00. Despite never touching the goods herself (which made her the obvious employee choice), Berkeley was sweet and at 5’9, offered the perfect bodyguard-esque profile when the beefier clientele requested time in your books. Several athletes had just left, rendering her services closed for the day (and she had some plans with a band kid she was really looking forward to, you didn’t have the heart to ask her to stay).

But this boy was neither beefy nor a junior–raising your eyes, immediately your attention drew to his handcuff-style belt, his hands stacked pointedly on his narrow hips. You were familiar with his onset layers of bedragged jackets, but on this abnormally warm day, all that donned his chest were a thin grey tee and a faded crimson plaid overwear.

Eddie.

“Think I’m resting against a wall, Munson.”

You knew where this was going, and frankly was surprised it had taken so long to catch his attention. Maybe disappointed?

“You said you’d never tried drugs here before, now you’re out here selling?” His eyes narrowed, and when he leaned in slightly you caught a faint trace of nicotine.

Feigning nonchalance, you shrugged. You put your hands behind to the small of your back, swaying slightly against the cool bricks.

“Just getting rid of some stash I had from Florida, Ed. ‘S no big deal, shouldn’t affect your business.”

“Well it does-” Eddie’s voice crept into singing territory, something that would’ve made you significantly more scared if he had been in musical theater (they never know a cue to stop) “-when you’re offering Teddie McGuffason prices 30% below mine. He pays my electric, sweetheart, and I like my electric.”

You blinked at him innocently. “How are you failing math? I was aiming for 40, but guess I missed.”

You supposed this was all due to your first meeting with Eddie–right before establishing your consumer base, you’d decided to do some market research in who was already supplying Hawkins’ darlings with adrenaline, booze, and more. And once you did, he became a fixation for your small-town boredom.

As previously expressed, it’s difficult to pinpoint who to ask when it comes to buying drugs at school, especially when you don’t know a single soul to rely on for helpful advice. People tended to be suspicious of strangers–even more so when they’d known the school their whole life–and you didn’t want to come off like a narc. Which meant all of the obvious potheads were out of the count, for they tended to be the most paranoid. The highs are high and the lows are low.

It had turned out to be simpler than you reckoned–after a few misses and awkward cover ups, it was Berkeley who came to your rescue, after overhearing an unsuccessful to suss out the football team. No matter how hard you implied it, the big boy just wasn’t understanding what you were after. He’d even given you his number, in a daft sort of confusion.

“Howard’s not the brightest,” Berkeley said with a laugh, leaning against the lockers,“But it has nothing to do with what’s in Eddie’s lunchbox.”

At this point in your friendship, she was merely the girl two rows back from you who commented on your shirt once, saying she admired the color. It was a standard blue, but to a girl in a new town, that was a bold move indicating a fast kinship ahead. Although not discernable in any particular clique in the school, her pleated dresses and appropriately fluffed hair indicated a sense of conformity that read as hospitable. Berkeley could be trusted.

“I’m actually headed to Eddie’s now, I’m picking up for my younger brother ‘n his friends. They’re scared of him,” she swung her arms, holding several textbooks to her chest, as if attempting to dismiss the fear as nothing but misplaced, “I can make the introduction, if you’d like? He doesn’t like to meet new people, but I guess there haven’t been many new people for him to meet.”

You two soon were ducking into the brush of the forest, the tree leaves parting a forgiving shade from the warmth of the season. From what Berkeley had said, you’d assumed you were headed directly to Eddie’s house. But she stopped before a picnic table, sat in an empty clearing a few yards away from the fields.

The infamous grey lunchbox rested on the table’s end furthest from you, the gangly boy’s sneakers tucked onto the seat and his whole body crouched before a shaky joint he was in the middle of rolling. It was a Kodak moment, of sorts–a squashed portrayal of boyish and rugged, dirty man.

Sensing someone’s presence, the corners of his lips drew up from its purse and he began to speak as he inspected his handywork.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Berks back to do a little delivery for Tommy dearest. Tell me, is he still scared I’m hexing the goods?”

“Ah, he’ll get over it,” Berkeley rolled her eyes, “But if you are happenin’ to do so, would you mind hexing him into taking a shower every now ‘n again? Boy smells like he’s living in the locker rooms.”

At this, Eddie let out a quick laugh, tucking the roll behind his ear and standing straight up on the bench seat. With his full attention now on his customer, it took approximately a millisecond for him to notice your presence as well. You, stood far below, head craned back to take a proper gander at the hand-sewn patches, frizzy curls, and scattering of rings adorning his clenched knuckles. He did the same to you, from above, spotting the fresh look of someone who hadn’t been bored to tears by every inch of the town yet. You were New and he hadn’t accounted for New. He wasn't sure he liked it.

“Who’s this?”

“She’s from Florida.”

“People are from there? I thought they just went there to die.”

“They kept tryin’ but didn’t take, so they let me go.”

It seemed your ability to speak threw Eddie for a shock, as he fell backwards off the bench. More aptly–threw himself off the bench, and after a quick scamper up, he, unperturbed, dusted the stray pebbles off his jacket before thrusting his hand before yours. Now it was a wider smile, teeth shining, and his eyes sparkling with an open sense of welcome that had your stomach twinge with...something.

“Hi, how’d’yo’do, I’m Eddie Munson–Town Freak, Dungeon Master, and Housewife to lovely Mary J. It is a pleasure...?”

You finished him off with your name, unable to keep some nervous laughter in as he grasped, and shook, one of your hands with both of his wrapped firmly around. Despite his appraisal from before, the eye contact was kept at this closer distance, and you were feeling uncomfortably noticed. You heard Berkeley mutter an Oh Jesus.

“Does the Floridian want some too,” his head turned back to Berkeley, “or is she just getting the full Hawkins tour?”

Berkeley shrugged at that, turning towards you. Originally, you had planned on sussing out the town’s dealer to see what they were missing, potentially sell your stash over to them and leave the business entirely. There were too many risks from the start, and not knowing your clientele could be a real shot to the foot. But there was something about Eddie that dug under your skin, not wanting the conversation to turn business-focused so quickly. You decided you needed to learn more about him - as a responsible interested party should for business.

So you let out a few white lies, about never having done weed before (a classic), and pretty soon you, Eddie, and Berkeley were all tucked away in the picnic bench. Legs swinging against the cement, shared smoke spilling from your throats.

“Wanted to try your product out, see my competition,” you explained, raising an eyebrow.

Back against the brick wall, Eddie’s face was more contorted with annoyance than welcome, his jaw tightening as his eyes shifted down from your nails, to your face, to the soccer team practicing out on the fields. Although it didn’t feel as warm, perhaps, as that first memory, it certainly felt more natural to have this character of a man treating you more as a nuisance than something of interest. The balance had been struck and you were determined to keep the paces.

He looked cute when he was pissed off, easy on the eyes and loud on the ears. Was best to have him ranting, rather than looking, lest he see the hearts you were half-sure formed in your pupils by the minute.

(“Men who are hot, it comes at a cost,” Berkeley had stated factually, when you mentioned your slight crush to her once. “His just potentially happens to be human sacrifice.”

“And who are we to judge?” you crowed, tapping beer bottles against hers. She rolled her eyes but cheers-ed along with, dutifully taking a sip before agreeing, “Not I!”)

“And after your stash is gone?” he sighed, hands splaying briefly out to his sides.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll see if I could sort out some supply chain practices. Hey!” you snapped your fingers, as if an idea had just struck, “Who do you use?”

Eddie was not amused.

“Look, Y/L/N, I’m all for local businesses and I definitely don’t fuck with any sort of monopoly. But I’m starting to lose customers to your shenanigans and” one of his long fingertips pressed against your shirt “Reefer Rick is loyal to me, and me only.”

Silence hung between you both, the tension palatable with irritation. Your stomach felt like you’d gone down a roller coaster with no warning. This was too close. Too close. Too close. Initiate Plan Eddie Step Away Before I Kiss Your Nose Tip.

“Sorry, is his government name Reefer Rick? Or was that an alliterative business decision?”

“Christ, how th’fuck you think I’d know?” His finger lowered, his body flinging around in typical Eddie fashion. Plan achieved.

“He’s old as shit, they could’ve named it after him. Just don’t even try going down that road, because that’s when I’d start taking this personally.” His rambunctious fidgeting came to a pause, his focus narrowing on you once more.

“And you don’t want me taking this personally, Y/N, right?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, his body shifting more languidly as his implied threat hung in the air. While fear definitely played its role in your reaction to his bristling annoyance, there was undeniably a thrill that shocked the back of your neck. Now this was something outside the mundane, this was New.

You were overcome with the feeling Eddie Munson was nothing but a performance, and he had every scene rehearsed to perfection. He was absolutely the wackiest, nerdiest drug dealer you’d ever met (and Florida didn’t have this notion of one-per-school, that’s for sure) but despite the obnoxious tales you’d heard secondhand, you couldn’t let him go. There was something you understood, something crazy you could see behind his eyes, a transparency you loathed in yourself and wanted to peel off on him.

But giving up your sales? Eddie would dissipate quicker than you could take up a line, your paths rarely to cross again. His home out in Forest Hills was agonizingly close to your grandparents’ modest house but with differing schedules and his proclivity towards actively spending time with freshmen, it wouldn’t be reliable. You liked reliable. Reliable but distant but close but not intimate. Easy.

“Excuse me?” a gentle, scared voice whimpered. You looked to the side and saw Peter, your next client.

“Toots, Eds. Gotta make my bag,” you winked at him, quick, and honestly without thinking (because if you had it would have never happened, the process and set-up of a wink took months of confidence build-up that only burst through due to a happenstance of absolute insanity, for sure. A fucking wink! Your diary was going to get pages of content from this moment alone).

Eddie sucked his tongue against his teeth, clearly displeased by your dismissal. Taking a few steps backward, he raised a hand your way. “Wormhole Coffee’s looking for some new staff. Might be worth looking into, when you’re out of a jo-b!” he called out, tilting his head in mocking shame.

You jeered some nonsensical gibberish his way, throwing together something about how his blends weren't even that good anyway and shouldn't he be bullying some freshmen about their lack of dexterity.

At the last second, before he pivoted on his sneaker heel and took off towards his van, there was a brief moment where you were both smiling at each other. And it was pure, it was warm, and it was enough contact to whirl you into action. As soon after Peter became another satisfied customer supporting his local business, you were going home and calling Berkeley to find out where this fucking Reefer Rick lived...

A/N: side-note if eddie was my plug i would simply die. I have some ideas to make this into a mini series but it fully depends on how I feel about this in the morning <3 so def lmk what you thought here and check out my other works here xoxo

#eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #joe quinn blurb #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic

224 notes · View notes

rogueddie · 1 year

Note

Professor Steve has a lovely bunch of advanced placement high school students, they're so kind and always able to create a relaxing aroma that doesn't make students who are introverts feel suffocated by the room, he would know (granted there were times with heated discussions). He's been able to take notice and see them grow. But sometimes they're just a bit too good without knowing it.

They all knew Steve and Rockstar Eddie were together, if the random rants about his husband were anything to go by along with the ring they all point out sometimes.

However the room was tense now that the news and every article was filled with rumors of Eddie Munson Caught Openly Cheating With A Mysterious Man.

They didn't know what to believe but the way Steve was so anxious and trying to play it off, they gathered the rumor was true and there was a divorce happening soon. He rambled sometimes that the big day was coming and he's bit his poor nails down to the point they were concerned he'd eat his fingers next.

So, they openly been beginning to talk about how Eddie Munson didn't know he had something good and he deserved better. Anything and everything they thought would make him feel better but he gave a forced smile and scrunch of his nose at the words and implications. His own words were stuck in his throat, the lump forming was pushing them down below as his stomach turned.

Eddie cheating was not what was happening nor was it like everyone thought.

Yes, Steve and Eddie have always been out there about their relationship and people knew they were together because of a reporter who asked about it when his band began to grow bigger. However, Eddie wasn't one to talk about his personal life with cameras shoved in his face (due to the fact he didn't like their lives to be affected by such negatively). But it wasn't the only reason, their boyfriend politely asked not to be publicized for the time being.

Argyle, oh their sweet boyfriend Argyle, didn't want it aired out, so they did as he wished with no problem. It was safe that way for Argyle because his parents always knew he was bisexual but dating two men had already swept them off their feet, he didn't need paparazzi shoving their big noses in their business. Plus, it wouldn't look good for their company image at the moment. And due to the homophobia at the time, it was safer.

And so Eddie wasn't cheating, far from it, he was just a boyfriend who can't help taking any opportunity to ravish his lovers and leave marks for days.

And Steve was nervous about a date but it was one of Argyle's parents coming over for dinner and if Steve knew anything about having old fashioned rich parents it was that everything had to be perfect. So he was losing his mind trying to make sure it was perfect.

the added tension of when the press will find out who Eddies mystery man is would only stress Steve out so much more too bc there's no way that would stay under wraps for long, the press are rabid

I can only imagine how damage control for that getting out would be bc they wouldn't being keen on actually denying or lying about that, and not just because it would essentially be them throwing him to the dirt

and it's probably something they want to openly talk about- it's not that they ever wanted it to get out but I can only imagine how excited Eddie would be to finally get to talk about how lucky he is to have two amazing guys in his life who love him just as much

but, Gods, the horror show that would cause at dinner. his parents would be born in, what, the 50s latest? yikes my guy

although it would be hilarious if the dinner went perfectly and Argyles parents even jokes about him being his boyfriends mystery man or something because they've had time to adjust to it, mostly thanks to Steve (everyones mom loves Steve)

but also

ASDFG ASDFS S RFGDSI SDKFJH aAS

#ask #I wasn't expecting argyle and genuinely started flailing

52 notes · View notes

pan-fried-autism · 5 months

Text

Lab Accident Chapter 4: Marching to the Hare

Characters: Swap!Leonid (@bowlerhatwearer), Swap!Jack, other people

Summary: Leonid finds his target.

Thursday, May 21.

Still don't know much about JacksnJackson.

Things I know and learned:

works at BUsiness finances Inc

28 year old

has wife?

apparently funny

Don't know the location of his residence.

With that, Leonid clicked his pen, putting the tip back into the chamber.

He lay back on his hotel room bed with a sigh.

He'd been trying for the past two days to find Jack, or at least his home... but he couldn't. He couldn't exactly ask his coworkers either-- to him, if he was here to visit Jack, wouldn't he already know? The man just never seemed to exist in the same area as him, too.

He sat up a bit, looking at his phone screen. The messages app was open.

'Hello, Detective. have you found my son yet? signed J Harris Sr.'

Leo couldn't help but giggle as he replied to Mr. Harris.

'No, I haven't yet. But I'm trying.'

Send.

Leonid went back to lying down, still unsure of what to do in the situation. Any thinking was interrupted, however, by a sound-- a rumbling from his stomach.

Leonid turned his head to the alarm clock by the bed.

5:09 pm.

Eh. Might as well get dinner.

Leonid sat up and picked his phone back up, going into Maps to search around New Anderville.

A few caught his eye-- The Coffery, Yappy Hour Bar and Grill, Minhs Din-Din, a downtown McDonalds, Pubbingtons, Greasy Joe's-- so he checked out their reviews.

Nothing too impressive, however... The Coffery only had fish and chips and liver and gravy as dinner options, Greasy Joe's was mainly for families with small kids, and the McDonalds had the 3rd lowest ratings of any McDonalds location worldwide.

That left Yappy Hour, Pubbingtons, and Minh's.

He decided to check out Yappy Hour a little more, seeing what they had on the menu... and something caught his eye.

'Boney Thursday today! From 5-8pm, all ribs and wings are half off! Try our delicious Mexican Grilled Ribs and Beer Battered Chicken Wings at a discount!'

Leonid's stomach growled.

He hadn't had ribs in a while.

The detective got out of bed, mind set on the prospect of ribs, and left the room.

---------------

No wonder they call this place Yappy Hour, thought Leo. It's LOUD in here.

In fact, it was so loud, Leonid didn't even hear the bell above the front door ring.

All around, he could see people at the tables and the bar, eating and chatting away while occasionally watching the sports on the TV. He felt himself cringe at the slight increase in noise as he walked up to the stand, where the seater stood.

They saw him and cleared their throat. “Table for?…”

“Table for one.”

“Just a moment.”

The seater walked away for a few seconds.

After those seconds, they came back, quickly grabbing a menu,

"I'll lead you to your table, sir."

Leonid followed the seater to a table, where one side had both seats, and the other had regular chairs.

As the seater placed the menu on the table, Leonid sat in a booth chair, reclining into the leather padding.

The seater leaned down a bit. "A waiter will be with you soon."

They left as quick as that.

Leo opened the menu, taking a look at some of the menu items (ginger beef on johnnycakes, spicy poutine, chicken wings and fries, hot-smoked salmon sandwich) as he sighed a bit.

He couldn't help looking around the pub as he moped in his thoughts. Look at me, he thought, sitting around in some pub while a kidnapping suspect is on the loose. What kind of detective am I?! His FAMILY'S paying me to find him and I can't even find one measly--

-- Holy shit.

Across from him was Jack Harris.

... Or at least he thought it was. From the back view at least, the hare matched the description of Jack-- chestnut brown fur, smoothly brushed headfur, wide eyes, mediocre fashion sense. He was sitting at a table with about four other people, all of them in different business garb.

It had to be him.

As he was looking, one of the people there happened to see him. Leo recognized him-- he was the grolar bear he first talked about Jack to. The man tapped the hare on the shoulder and started pointing to Leo, speaking words Leo couldn't hear over the other patrons. The hare turned around.

He looked exactly like Jack.

It HAD to be him.

The hare got up with a smile and walked over to Leonid, sitting down at the chair as Leonid continued gawking at him.

Finally, the hare opened his mouth and spoke.

"So... you're a college buddy, huh?"

Leo gulped a bit and composed himself. "UH. Yes."

The hare chuckled. "I didn't know a detective could have to go to the Missoury Economics Collegiate, let alone take courses in business."

"Wh-- how did you know I was a detective?"

"Ruben told me. Plus, your badge is sticking out of your pocket."

Sheepishly pushing the badge back down, Leonid cleared his throat and put on his best serious detective voice.

"Truthfully, I've never went to college with you. I'm Leonid Aksakov, Private Investigator."

"Jack Harris. Charmed."

I KNEW IT! Leonid shouted in his mind. Out loud, he continued.

"I've come to ask you some questions, Mr. Harris."

"About what?"

"Well... a few months ago, a woman named Grementine Mewton went missing. I was told you were a former associate of hers."

A strange look seemed to pass over Jack's face after he said that. Before Jack could respond, however, a shadow loomed over the table.

Leonid looked up and met the eye of the waiter-- a moose, looking to be around 8 feet tall. His nametag read "Steven".

"Are you gentlemen ready to order?" The moose asked in a deep, gentle voice.

Leonid's eyes flickered between him and Jack before he answered.

'I-- uh, yeah, we're ready."

Out of the corner of his eye, Leonid almost swore he saw Jack's eye twitch.

"Alright, then. I'm obliged to inform you that today is Boney Thursday, and you get half off any wings or ribs you order." the waiter replied.

"I'm aware, thank you." replied Leonid, going back to the menu.

Jack raised a finger. "If you can, I'll have a tall drink of water." he announced.

Steven the waiter chuckled a bit. "If you say so, Mr. Harris. What about you, sir?"

"Glass of Pepsi." piped Leo.

Steven wrote it down on the pad.

"Alright, Pepsi and water... what about your meals?

Leonid went back to the ribs and wings, looking over the potential foods-- Mexican Barbeque Ribs, Ginger Ribs & Peameal, Classic Hot & Smoky, Mooseback Ribs, and--

"... What are Maple Fried Ribs?"

"We coat the ribs in maple syrup and Panko breadcrumbs before deep frying them."

The detective grimaced. "I'll have the Mooseback Ribs."

"And for your side?"

"Uh... curly fries?"

"Got it."

"I'll have the Beer Battered Wings and a side salad, please." stated Jack.

Steven scribbled their orders down, before putting the notepad back in his pocket, simply saying, "Your orders will be ready in a little while."

With that, he sauntered away, giving Leonid a little wink as he did.

Flustered and a little confused, Leo shook away the blush on his face and refocused on Jack.

"Again, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Ms. Mewton." he restated.

"Sure, shoot!" Jack replied, elbows on the table and holding up his head.

Jack took the notepad he usually kept around in his backpocket, a golf pencil besides it. He took a deep breath.

Well, I know Ms. Mothgo didn't paint that good of a picture of you, he thought to himself. Let's see if you really ARE a piece of work.

"Alright, Jack-- what was Ms. Mewton like?"

Jack let out a dreamy sigh. "Beautiful... stunning... smart... tantalizing... feisty... mysterious... basically the most desirable woman you could ever ask for."

Trying not to frown, Leonid pencilled in his answer.

"What is your relationship to (or with) her?"

A wistful look with a touch of real sadness washed over Jack's face as he answered again. "She was... my first love. We dated for five positively dreamlike months until she... she dumped me. Since then, we'd see each other around sometimes, maybe talk a bit here and there."

Leonid nodded, writing that down as well (along with a little note reading 'Что за неудачник...').

"When did you see her last?"

"Back in November. The 15th I think. Saw her getting stuff at a grocery store and we chatted a bit."

"'Bout what?"

"Y'know... life stuff. How we were doing in them. She told me she was going away for a little bit."

Scribble scribble.

"Did you know her specific plans?"

"Naw, she wouldn't say. She was being weirdly secretive. That's part of why I like her so much. I love figuring out how she works."

Scribble scribble scribble scribble.

"Do you know anyone who may wish ill will upon her?"

"I know two."

Leonid raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Her dads-- Lionel and Lupus Mewton. They never had a great relationship. Lionel's a doctor, Lupus is a bigshot lawyer, they had great expectations of her. Grem wasn't entirely keen on those expectations, and she could be a bit... troublesome, too."

Leo nodded. "Do you know where they live?"

"Hometon, Missoury, 45 [STREET NAME]."

The detective jotted it down.

"Now, I want to talk about something your cousin said... Does Paula Lopez ring a bell?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, she's my aunt Luanne and Uncle Anton's kid. I'm guessing you know she took my house?"

"Yes. She mentioned you had a lot of 'weird pictures' of a girl in your house. I was wondering what that was about."

Jack scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Man, ever since she married Cary, she's been overthinking everything. I get she's got little kids, but you don't gotta look into things so much! Anyway, I had a couple pictures of Grem around the house, mostly from when we were dating... they're just nice keepsakes. I left 'em behind when me and the wife moved."

A-HA.

Quickling scribbling that down, Leonid got to the last question:

"Can I hear about your wife?"

The dreamy look returned to Jack's face.

"Claire is... amazing." he sighed. "I couldn't ask for anyone better. She's so nice, and caring, and smart... I can see us staying together, til death do us part."

Leonid nodded again, writing this information down-- as well as underlining his wife's name.

"Thank you for answering all of my questions, Mr. Harris." Leonid stated, putting away the pad and pencil. "I hope it wasn't too botherso-"

The two were interrupted by plates.

Specifically plates being placed quite quickly in front of them (along with glasses, though they were drowned out by the sound of ceramic against hardwood). On Leonid's plate was a rack of very large ribs, over twice the size of any regular ribs he'd been given before, drowning in a spicy-smelling sauce. Next to it was a steaming pile of crispy curly fries. Jack's plate had 4-5 chicken wings in flaky batter, plus some Caesar salad.

The waiter-- Steven again-- looked down at them with a grin.

"Bon Appetit, you two."

----------------------------

Leonid only managed to finish half of the moose ribs.

As delicious as they were, he simply couldn't handle the amount of food he'd been given. He only got a third of the way through the fries, too.

While Leonid suffered where he sat, Jack picked the last of the meat off his wings using his large front teeth. Sitting back with a sigh, he chirped, "It was nice talkin' to you, detective. I hope I could answer your questions well!"

"Same for me," Leonid groaned out, "You've been a valuable source."

Steven the waiter came back with a checkbook and portable card scanner. "I'm here for the bill, now."

Leonid started reaching into his pocket, but Jack spoke up with "It's alright, Leonid." before taking out his wallet.

"You... You're paying for me?" Leo blurted.

Jack nodded sagely as he tapped his card again the machine.

A receipt was printed out (which Steven briefly scribbled on) before he gave it to Jack.

"Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." He crooned.

With that, the moose was gone again.

Jack briefly looked over the receipt before handing it to Leonid, explaining, "I think this is for you."

Leonid took a look of his own.

Under the amount paid was a phone number and a doodle of a moose.

Blushing furiously, Leonid stuffed it into his pocket before getting up.

"Well... I'm gonna be leaving now. I'd get a takeout box, but I don't think I can handle any more of this."

"Same here," Jack responded, "I don't think there's any room for the crumbs on my plate. I don't think my wife'll want 'em either."

"I see then. Goodbye, Harris."

"Bye, detective!"

So they both left.

In the parking lot, leaning against his car, Leonid took a drag off a cigarette as he reflected on his encouter with Jack.

Well... I know he's annoying, that's for sure. I'm still not sure if he IS a kidnapper, but... it's a bit weird how his wife has Grementine's original name. Plus, the way he answered didn't really feel right.

Oh well. Maybe his wife has answers?

#lab accident #fiction #tne alternate ending #swap!leonid #swap!jack #tw smoking

6 notes · View notes

riverdale-retread · 7 months

Text

Riverdale S7 E19 (Chapter 136) Golden Age of Television

There are so many things you can say about Riverdale the show that are completely wrong, but one of the most wrong things you can say about it is that it is made in some sort of careless or haphazard way, without due care and consideration.

The penultimate episode of Riverdale the TV Series, which launched in the final years of the most recent Golden Age of Television, and is likely to be one of the last shows to have this full 22 episode, multi-year arc of classical American TV, opens with a wide open outdoor shot of the river, the forest with huge trees, and the sign that looked old fashioned and worn even in an 1950s context which they never changed into 2017.

The picture-perfect shot of the Riverdale-Town-With-Pep sign is transitioned perfectly over to an actual postcard showing a pictorial representation of that sign, stuck to the window of Jughead Jones’ souped up train car. The fact that this person who lives in Riverdale has purchased (or was given?) a postcard of the town sign and put it up on his window as the sole decorative touch when he is IN the town is so funny. Jughead has said that Archie is the spirit of Riverdale in all seasons other than this one (he just isn’t as interested in Archie in this alternative universe) and yet he’s the one that is completely obsessed with what it means to be Riverdale in a way that not even the people running for mayor (who are all of his friends’ moms and dads) have bothered blathering on about.

In the 1950s alternate universe, Jughead Jones has this to say about his location:

“For years, Riverdale had prided itself for being the town with pep - safe, innocent, utopian.”

Alas, but this is not real, apparently because he’s learned about the “darkness that churned beneath Riverdale.”

Life in general is at best a mix of good and bad things happening. There are some eras though that are convinced they are the good times when they are happening, which then provides endless fodder for people to argue with in subsequent generations. The 1950s for the United States is one of those eras.

Possibly in this spirit, Jughead Jones loathes to write meanly about the things that he loves, so our narrator is being a bit indirect when he tries to describe the “churning darkness” but that leads to lying by omission. The Town’s Mayor turned out to be a Soviet Agent hiding a nuclear bomb warhead in his ancestral mines - rather more dire than just merely prejudice and fearmongering, and unrelated to inequality!

See, even now, even after all he knows in the 1950s universe, Jughead doesn’t want to write his town off as the hellhole that it often actually has been! (Look what they did to Ethel! And the man summarily executed in the town square by Sheriff Keller as his skin sloughed off him in layers!).

1950s Jughead is not the insomniac-due-to-homelessness of the other time line Jughead. He’s just a morning person who gets up early enough to get the morning paper, read it, and then start writing while the sun comes streaming in. On the table next to the typewriter is a copy of the Riverdale Register with HIS PHOTO, posing moodily against the big phallus of the palladium bomb. First, this is a very funny photo for the Riverdale to use with the headline PROJECT MOLOCH FOILED! Why not use a photo of the mayor and his soviet spy wife getting arrested or their mug shot or something else? Why use this photo of Jughead Jones? Secondly, the idea that something as major as a world-ending bomb being discovered by two high school kids in abandoned mines in upstate New York getting no New York Times or other major newspaper coverage is pretty funny. What’s even funnier is that maybe it DID get national press coverage but Jughead Jones is so absolutely parochial that he only cares what the Riverdale Register had to say about it. Or! And maybe this is the truth - he only wanted to see himself in this off beat beatnik type of photo on the front page of a paper. Vanity at its most potent!

Because think about this - he’s wearing stripey pajama pants and the patented slutty tank top (in the 1950s these were undershirts, right? So he put on a brassiere for his early morning writing bout) but then remembered to comb his hair and pin (it has to be pinned) his felt crown just so on top of his head before he could sit down to write his commentary about the recent events which showed that Riverdale is not in fact a perfect haven.

Anyway, I am happy that he’s narrating again. I missed Jughead narration.

We cut to Archie who is reading On the Road, in bed, first thing in the morning. Jughead tells us that there’s “some new thinking that is required,” thereby presenting us with this as one of the major indicators of “new thinking.” Except Archie has been trying out experimental artistic writing and reading all season, so this is not in fact new. Jughead of this world simply doesn’t know Archie Andrews very well at all.

At school, Principal Featherhead is packing his personal items into a cardboard box under the watchful (but useless) eye of Sheriff Keller. Jughead, at school well before the rest of the student body, gets to witness the very unhappy and angry Featherhead leave the premises. Featherhead gives him a nasty, I blame you for this! glare. Narration Jughead explains that Featherhead gave an official ‘personal reasons’ explanation for his losing his job, but the real reason was “an anonymous accuser” identifying him as part of “Mayor Blossom’s Soviet Shenanigans.”

Was that Jughead, who made the accusation? Or was it Cheryl?

Featherhead’s boyfriend the Lolita-fetishist comes out to see him take his leave of the premises, then makes sure to give Jughead the same I Blame You For This glare too. These adults do not have any qualms about not treating these kids like they are kids. Jughead has been feeling himself of late - he’s wearing suspenders and a t shirt under his button down shirt.

We cut to Hal and Alice reading out the news. They are looking for another principal! Then we cut to the extremely colorful Cooper house, where Betty is giving her parents maximum disapproval in glares as they work out how they are not going to separate or get divorced but instead will simply live apart on different stories of their house - Hal in the basement, Alice on the second floor where the bedroom is. Betty wants to know why Alice won’t simply divorce Hal.

The simple answer is that Alice loves being on television, and the sexism of newsmedia (which is STILL EXACTLY THE SAME IN 2023) means that there’s no way a woman in her 50s who looks like she’s in her 50s, no matter how gorgeous, would be allowed a head anchor job, for one, and for another, she might simply not be good enough for any other television job not given to her by her husband. This is the simple answer as I say, but Alice is not someone who has a clean relationship to the truth, so in response to Betty’s question she says a lot of other things, all bullshit, about staying together for her daughters, not breaking up the family, blah blah. She does mention the inability to open a bank account again.

Alice says something else, that I find rather terrifying, but Betty isn’t horrified by it. Alice would rather have her cheating troll of a husband live with her in the basement like a literal troll, and sit next to him smiling on their television show, than be alone, because she doesn’t know how to be alone. The music they play is sympathetic, but I feel no sympathy for Alice. There are no excuses - none whatsoever - to the way she treated Ethel from end to end, including that ridiculous offer to ‘adopt’ her. Fuck Alice, and also, fuck everyone who is scared to be alone. You all do the worst shit to other people.

Nana Blossom meanwhile is holding court in front of her two grandchildren. She calls her son “idiot” and her daughter in law “viper,” then prays that they rot in a “Russian gulag for the rest of their miserable lives.” Why would it be a Russian gulag though? Having committed treason, wouldn’t they just be executed in America?

Both of the Blossom children hated their parents as much as their grandmother did.

“From your lips to Moloch’s ears, Nana,” Cheryl says. This is one of my most cherished Cheryl lines ever, right up there with “You’re looking especially Dilfy today, Mr. Andrews.” Julian chimes in to say that he always knew there was something squirrely about his parents. I mean, bless Julian’s wonderful singing voice, but he’s only being like this because he’s pissed that his father brought in Reggie Mantle, no? Cheryl has been put through it - about her sexuality, about her art - by both of her parents who threatened her directly. Julian has had either favored-child or ignored-child status, so it’s quite dark that he hates them so. They both look very psychopathic as they put their indifferent two cents in.

Nana Blossom, who anyone with sense has to admit is the best character on Riverdale bar none, starts to say that it’s up to the three of them now to "ensure that the Blossom rise from the ashes like phoenixes” which scared me for a moment because I thought for sure she was going to suggest Julian and Cheryl fuck each other but she does not. Instead, Cheryl, looking very happy, says she knows just what the first thing to do should be.

The school bell rings, and we see the important kids all seated at the student lounge together, worried for the future, “with Featherhead gone.” The seating configuration is interesting. Counting clockwise from Betty, it’s Veronica, Jughead, Clay perched next to Kevin and touching him with his body, Kevin, then Reggie perched next to Archie and touching HIM with his body, Archie, who is seated as far as possible away from Cheryl while still adjacent, who is next to Toni. The bi-girl Beronica couple are not touching, and the gay-girl Choni couple are also not touching, and I object to all of this.

Jughead is very worried that it might be Dr. Werthers as the replacement. Kevin doesn’t like that idea at all. He’s seconded by Reggie, who says Captain Hook or Godzilla would be a better replacement. That joke lands flat because Archie is really worried they might ask Uncle Fucking Frank ‘to step up.’ Reggie is wearing a black and orange striped shirt and it can’t be a coincidence that Archie’s T shirt has the same orange shade at the neck.

Toni says she knows a great candidate, who will need a boost from the PTA. Betty tells her that Alice is president of the PTA, urging Toni to give Alice another chance at “doing the right thing.” Now that I’m typing this out, it seems telegraphed in the most blatant way - Toni brings it up, and this is supposed to be a redemption opportunity for a white woman - but I truly didn’t glom on to who this candidate might be when I was watching the the first time, because of the strange way that Jughead takes leave of his friends.

Right after Betty says that thing about Alice (“A lot has changed for her”) he jumps up to say he’s going to pay a visit to Dr. Moldy, then significantly nods in general at the silent group before taking off to no fanfare. I also couldn’t tell who this ‘Dr Moldy’ was that he wanted to pay a housecall to.

It turned out to be Dr. Werthers, who is also packing up his things. I mean, it was only fun for him to work at Riverdale HS because his boyfriend ran the place, so of course he’d be leaving now that he’s gone! Jughead doesn’t yet know that gay people exist, maybe, since he hasn’t been in the Grundy writing class nor getting recruited by Clay, so he jumps to the opposite conclusion. “Featherhead is barely out the door and you’re already trying to take his office!?” he says, after groaning, Oh I knew it!

The phrasing of this is so funny - he’s just out of a job, Jughead, not dead, but okay, sure, say it like that.

It turns out Werthers is going “off to do real work, in Washington.” This has Jughead very concerned, so he steps decisively into the room. Werthers is extremely smug, saying he is going to be working on a presidential committee on juvenile delinquency, with a specific focus on the evil of comic books. Jughead sarcastically says “Well Golly!” at him in a nasty way before telling him not to let the door hit him on his way out. Werthers won’t of course let that be the last word: “My tribunal will still be doing the important work of regulating comic books.” Jughead spits out that what that tribunal does is Censorship. Werthers doesn’t skip a beat - he anticipated that Jughead would come barging in here, like this, at this time, so he had a final nasty piece of news ready: The latest issue of Pep Comics that Jughead and his editor submitted for approval has been rejected by the Tribunal. Extremely pleased with himself, Werthers basically tells Jughead that he knows he put this entire comic publisher out of business, and he did it on purpose.

This is the second time in this show that Werthers/Dupont has completely derailed a Jughead Jones creative career endeavor. Oddly powerful, this wizened turkey necked man, isn’t he?

Outside, Archie is working off some steam he built up about literature by shooting hoops in front of Reggie, who tells him “you still got it.” Archie has been so enthused about the On the Road book that he’s committed pieces of it to memory. He has decided to just live out the book - to ride the rails, hit the trails, hop trains, explore the country, sleep under the stars, and write. This has to be a little dig to someone about the relationship that Jughead and Archie tried to have with each other in the other universe. Those two actually did ride (well, walk along) the rails, slept under some stars, and so on. It’s really surreal that Archie is saying this to Reggie, even if this an alternative universe!

Reggie wants to know how Mary is going to take these vagabond wild man writer fantasies. Archie confidently tells him that since he will do these adventurings during summer vacation, nobody can stop him. Meanwhile, I am reminded of that Sylvia Plath journal bit where she is annoyed that she doesn’t really get to have experiences like On the Road, of hopping on a motorcycle and just taking off to ‘rough it’ - not worrying about where she’s going to sleep and if she’ll be safe from, variously, rape, violence, attempted murder, murder. Reggie is all about his ‘best basketball camp’ experience that he’s looking forward to. He shoots a basket casually, making Archie look at him in wonder.

My bitterness about Jughead-Archie not happening aside, the relationship that Reggie the good hearted basketball star has with Archie the small town boy with bohemian writer aspirations is quite sweet. Almost wholesome. (Insert “We could have had a good life” speech from Brokeback Mountain about Jughead-Archie here). IF we’re still positing that all these people are existing in the Angel Tabitha created world which is supposed to solve the problems of all the satan-riddled other Riverdales, the fact that Tabitha thinks that the deep relationship that Jughead had with Archie was fully toxic and in need of eradication is, to say the least, disturbing.

Speaking of Jughead, he has run straight to Veronica, to nurse his wounds about the latest issue of Pep Comics being kiboshed by Werthers. They’re calling it Zip Comics right now. Veronica is in her Movie Usher uniform, because I guess Clay and Kevin haven’t reported into work yet. Jughead speculates that it’s due to “The Comet” story that the latest issue was rejected. He mentions that Tabitha “clued [him] in” last time she was in town. Veronica is upset, because in her opinion that story was wonderful. “It’s so romantic and philosophical,” she says, reminding the audience that this is a story about a comet that hits NYC, with two survivors, a black man and a white woman, who fall in love.

WINK WINK HINT HINT hey because Season 6 of Riverdale ended with a comet hitting a town and obliterating it, ending the lives of a white man in love with a black woman.

In any case, when Jughead makes it clear that he thinks it’s the interracial nature of the couple that got the entire issue killed, Veronica looks a little surprised. Jughead looks concerned in a filial way when he tells her that he hasn’t yet told his publisher the bad news, because it will “crush” Featherstone.

Veronica says that the comic and the story was a masterpiece, adding she thought it would make a great movie. The single page of the comic they show us involves rather tame looking panels of one white man asking another white man if we hadn’t passed through the tail of a comet before, and the other man replying this was a different comet.

Jughead apparently adores the budding movie mogul side of his girlfriend, because he can’t contain his excitement even though he tries to -his eyebrows waggle up then down and back up again, as he starts to smile. He tells Veronica that if SOMEONE wanted to get in touch with DuBois, the original author of the tale, he has “all their information.” He means for Veronica to pursue it! Jughead Jones s7 being the most supportive friend to women who want to make art (Ethel! Veronica!) is a great touch. I’m very for this. Veronica’s face goes from being just wistful (I thought it would make a great movie) to disbelieving (do you think I can do it?) to being scared but excited (Maybe I *can* be the one!) It’s very lovely to watch.

At the Cooper house, Betty and Alice are sitting on the sofa as Toni makes her case from their armchair. When Riverdale High School integrated they shut down three (three??) black high schools, summarily firing all the teachers. Three? THREE all black high schools existed IN Riverdale?

Toni is lying. She has to be. There are definitely not enough black people in Riverdale to sustain a single all black high school, nevermind THREE. Either that, or there is some sort of terrifying deep apartheid going on because no.

But anyway, all three women are wearing belts with the most outlandish buckles of all time. Like, hideous monstrosities. Is this each of their armor, to protect their fragile navels from each other now that they have to discuss race?

Toni says that one really incredible teacher has been driving a cab the past year. I try not to look too closely at the racial history of Riverdale especially as relayed by Toni because of all her bullshit both as a construction and as a person, but she does have one thing right - in talking about race to a white woman, she takes on a quiet, almost pleading, nearly weepy super-soft tone, to prevent a freak out and flight. Even so, Alice still tries to wriggle out of it - She the Good White Person is of course in support of justice in theory, but she does not have the power to wrangle other white people of the PTA.

Betty calls bullshit on that immediately (good for her!) telling her to make it work.

And voila! Alice made it work. “Now is the time for a fresh start.”

Hey it’s Weatherbee! He’s now principal. His speech is about change and new ideas (things that the previous administration was against.) Betty and Veronica are sitting with Jughead, wearing hers and hers similar outfits (tight fitting bodice, flared skirt, bow at the bust) in pink and purple checked patterns.

Weatherbee starts to give an extremely political sounding speech that I would find very confusing coming from a high school principal. “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.” “The challenges are enormous and systemic” he says, adding “Be kind. Be decent. Be better!” Toni leaps to her feet, applauding, which then makes everyone else do the same, though I don’t know what this pseudo Obama first-campaign styling has to do with running a high school. Why is the show making me be like Evelyn Evernever? She is the last last to get to her feet, looking extremely annoyed.

Archie goes to visit the principal to advocate for a “top not teach” - Mrs. Thornton! Weatherbee is all about bringing Mrs Thornton back to work at Riverdale. As he leaves the office, Archie grins maniacally to himself about this.

Part of the uh, doing better also includes Cheryl crashing the rehearsal for the cheerleaders. She singsongs, “Hold on to your pom poms my beloved paper shakers, because I’m ba~~~~ck!” I wish I had her confidence. Evelyn has all the girls lined up in a rigid grid. She tells Cheryl that she isn’t invited to the “private practice of the Vixens” because Cheryl is the “has been daughter of Russian spies.” Cheryl says she’s launching a coup because Weatherbee is “ushering in a new era.”

This is just like Kyle’s dad from South Park screaming Obama~ in the streets of their town causing mayhem after the election because that one change was supposed to fix literally everything all at once.

In any case, Cheryl challenges Evelyn to a dance off. “Winner takes all.” Evelyn refuses, but she doesn’t issue the refusal in a powerful way. She stammers a little, which then allows Cheryl to insist that refusal is not an option.

We get a final (sob) Cheryl Blossom cheerleading dance-off routine, ending in slow motion splits, with lots of little skippety hoppity steps and rather muted whooshing sound effects. I really can’t tell anything about cheerleading technique (repeat viewings of Stick It and Bring It On notwithstanding). At one point Cheryl drops the pompoms altogether to freestyle before retrieving them in a basic crouch. She has great chaine turns and flexibility.

However - What does having solid ballet training and the ability to do a solo dance have to do with cheerleading? When will the cheerleaders ever have to do chaine turns like this or be allowed to kick their ankles up to their ears in conservative 1955? Why is it necessary for the captain of the cheerleading squad to be able to do an impromptu dance? Furthermore, Cheryl’s dance-off proposal is patently unfair. It tests for improv skills that are not necessary in cheerleading, where coordinated movement with other cheerleaders is more important, plus Cheryl had time to pick the music, create the choreography and practice the thing before ambushing Evelyn with this whole set up, whereas Evelyn has presumably been busy actually running the squad and teaching them to stand in straight lines (this is, by the way, no small skill - ballet companies as great as the New York City Ballet consistently suck at getting professional ballet dancers to stand in straight lines to move in unison).

Cheryl inevitably wins but sheer charisma and starpower here, but I am (once again, sigh) full of sympathy for Evelyn here. Evelyn just freaks out, screaming, and then leaves the rehearsal. I have this weird amount of faith that she was a better squad leader, that the caliber (?!?) of cheerleading under Evelyn must have been superior to the self-aggrandizing that my beloved Cheryl Blossom can’t help but engage in.

Case in point - Cheryl grandiosely announces that this is a ‘new era for the Vixens’ but then only talks about herself. She comes out to the group as a lesbian, in order to “live in the light.” Except she issues a dark ultimatum - if anyone has a problem with a very rich lesbian who does great at solo dances leading the cheerleading squad, they can henceforth eject themselves from the squad. Umm team building? I guess??

Another couple outs themselves from within the squad - a white girl and a black girl. So at this point 100% of the black people who ever spoke and are queer can only date white people. That is so strange.

Jughead shows Fieldstone the “rejected for not promoting traditional American values” notice about the latest issue of the comic the two of them put together. Featherstone decides he’s going to publish the issue anyway, “send it out into the world, hope for the best.” He is with Jughead - the reason this issue was rejected was because of the miscegenation in the Comet story.

Fieldstone the editor has a bomb of his own to drop. “There’s not gonna be a next time, kid.” He’s proud of the Comet issue, can’t imagine a better swan song, and will let his business die on a high note. As people always do, in every universe, Fieldstone asks Jughead Jones to write a eulogy (in this case, the last editorial). Fieldstone turns out to have had a heart of gold after all (sort of), enough to give Jughead a heartfelt “It’s been an honor kid” double handed handshake. Jughead looks very moved, and very alert - he’s trying to learn how to let go of something he loved, which is a skill no adult ever really demonstrated how to do. Fieldstone takes an unsentimental look around the place, then says, “Well, it was a beautiful dream while it lasted.”

Speaking of dreams, Betty goes to pick up a special package from the post office. She unwraps it right then and there. It’s the Teenage Mystique, self published! The nice lady at the post office says something generic about how proud her parents must be. Betty doesn’t know how to tell her, No, they aren’t.

Then we catch up with Kevin, who fills me with dread every time I see him this season. Room 309 opens to reveal his dad evidently shirtless (or less, ew) in just a robe. Kevin was being a good son - Audrey (from the Sheriff’s office?) told Kevin his dad wasn’t feeling well, so he brought his father some soup. That’s really sweet.

Unfortunately, this is the exact time with Uncle Fucking Frank decides to come out of the bathroom in just a towel. He tells a ridiculous story about the shower being on the fritz in his room because he is also allegedly staying at the hotel. Why the hell didn’t he just stay in the bathroom if he was going to lie? This is a very Frank Andrews move, isn’t it?

Looking utterly terrified, Sheriff Andrews invites his son into the very red interior of this old man yaoi fucking room. Oh no, is this in the same motel that Twyla prostitutes out of? Christ in heaven SAVE ME.

Kevin looks as horrified as I feel. He can tell these two have been fucking.

At the Cooper’s, Betty shows her mother the self published book. She very much wants Alice to read it, and Alice immediately refuses. Betty begs her to read it - “By getting to know me better, you might get to know yourself better.” Alice refuses to touch the book.

Archie is meanwhile hanging out with Mrs. Thornton, who has been employed lickety split back at the school from which she was fired. She says Geraldine and she have been discussing Archie’s writing, which Mrs. Thornton wants him to continue with. Archie proudly tells her that he is “gonna hit the rails” with the dream of writing a big juicy poem. She wants very much for him to see what the world beyond Riverdale is like.

Veronica approaches Clay to ask him whether he knows The Comet as a story. When he gives a very enthusiastic affirmation, she floats the idea of his writing a screenplay of it for a major motion picture. I really love this about Veronica - when she sells an idea she sells the idea big. I should do this, but I don’t. She’s literally never made a movie but by god it’s gonna be MAJOR, you know? Anyway turns out Clay is one of those prepared people that god smiles down on, because he’s “actually been fiddling with a screenplay version” of this exact story. I am going to take a page out of Clay’s book and say the equivalent of this, because I’ve seen now so many men volunteer for things that are a) way beyond their capacity and b) based on lies along the lines of “I’ve Been Working On That Exact Thing For Years!”

It turns out Veronica actually used Jughead’s contacts and straight up bought the rights. She even has casting in mind (“Sidney Poitier!” they both shout actually). They then immediately decide to work their connection to Josie McCoy to get it rolling. Veronica sets the Cannes premiere 4 or 5 years from now. They embrace, giggling.

Archie comes home to find Reggie sitting disconsolate next to the lilacs. The dates for the basketball camp that Reggie has been so looking forward to will fall right in the middle of a key harvest at his family’s farm. The harvest can’t be skipped - it’s the one month that ensures survival for the rest of the year. “My parents need me,” Reggie says, his voice seizing up with tears. Reggie starts to cry in earnest. So then Archie says something completely amazing: “I’ll take your place on the farm.” He goes on to add that “Whatever else I had planned, it’s not as important as getting you set up for college.” He even gets a little poetic about how farmwork could actually be “exactly what a Beat writer should be doing.”

I’m very moved by this, because 1950s Archie is very kind in a way that the other universe Archie is not. (I mean, I’m a little bit anti-other world Archie because he’s so unpredictably violent. I’ve never forgiven him for smashing up his tv with a baseball bat as his terrified mother screamed in fear. Mary Andrews is useless, I grant you, but this is personal.) Anyway, Archie actually setting aside a personal dream (which is pretty harebrained, honestly) and wanting to commit to provide an actually useful material good for someone else!

Archie mentions the two people who can never been looked at directly on screen in S7 - Archie’s mom and dad - because they made things too complicated about how and why the biracial Reggie who identifies very strongly as a Koraen can exist as an American citizen in 1955. Archie talks about breaking bread with these unseen unseeable parents as though he’s really looking forward to it. Reggie, still getting over crying, tells him it sounds good, and then they embrace.

Archie says he loves Reggie, and Reggie says it right back.

OK so I’m discovering from watching this that I am actually a Jughead/Archie shipper at heart because THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN A STORY WITH JUGHEAD. Why the fuck is Reggie usurping Jughead’s position? I understand that this world has been put together in some ways by Tabitha but in the context of the show, this storyline with the I Love Yous and Archie demonstrating that he is actually the golden hearted person that Jughead has for YEARS wanted him to be - this belongs to Jughead!

Betty wakes up without screaming to find her mom sitting creepily on the edge of her bed in the middle of the night. Alice is upset. She says she’s read the book, “and I’m speechless.” She’s belatedly proud that Betty wrote “a whole book.” Alice is weepy about how she did get to know Betty better and how she got to know all the young girls “so full of thoughts and fears and struggles and dreams” through the book. Alice of course can’t really spend a lot of time thinking about anyone other than herself - so she immediately turns the discovery that girls are not just a problem for her to quash but people in their own right, and sneers at herself about her limited aspirations that were of the limited times she was raised in.

I really resent the ways that this show keeps insisting that I hear Alice’s side of the story. Actually she’s a piece of shit. There is no her-side of the story. Betty is trying really hard anyway, trying to tell her mother both that it’s not too late for her, that she can be happy.

They embrace to stirring music, but I am unstirred.

Instead of worrying about the world ahead for the women who are coming up behind her, or trying to apologize to her daughter or Ethel (I mean really, Ethel is owed), Alice uses this opportunity like all other opportunities to think about how life has not treated HER very fairly, with Betty in full support.

Jughead has hauled the very heavy typewriter all the way to the diner, to type at the booth. This is very funny actually - he lives in a train car, and his favorite place to be outside his home is another converted train car. He’s composing the final letter for the final issue of Zip Comic, put out by Pep Comics. “We here at Pep Comics refuse to kneel to unAmerican censorship.” He’s very haunted by the bonfire of fascism from a few episodes ago. There’s a slowmo insert scene of all the now out of work writers and workers of Pep Comics reading through the final issue together in the office. Fieldstone comes to put a proud and grateful hand on Jughead’s shoulder. Jughead says that even though the final issue is being published without the seal of approval, he still hopes the issue will make it into people’s hands. They show people in the town square publicly reading the final issue. Jughead hopes that the comic will make people think, and help them feel a little less alone. We see Dilton holed up somewhere (is it the bunker? or just his room?) reading by flashlight, looking proud and sad.

Jughead goes to visit the emptied out offices a last time, as he listens to his own final message for the readers of Zip/Pep Comics: “It is easier to tear down than to build up. Try to be a builder, not a destroyer.” Wistfully, he swings the magazine rack, then he wanders into the editor’s office. Fieldstone has left him a little present - a photo of him and Jughead, holding a copy of what must be Jughead’s first issue, looking very grandpa-and-grandson, with the handwritten note that says “Keep Going, Kid.” The message that Jughead explains to his would be readers about W.E.B Debois is that there’s always a possibility of a greater, better future. Jughead is very moved by the gift and the encouragement, looking infinitely sad that it only came at the end of this entire enterprise.

Much like Archie sacrificing something he thought he wanted for pure vanity and personal aspiration to be actually useful in a direct and generous way for someone else breaks him out of a rather bad cycle that his character kept repeating, Jughead being able to see something come to a non-violent end, sort of land the ending, as it were, and then furthermore receive encouragement from a male authority who actually survived his mentorship relationship with Jughead is a huge thing that has happened.

Jughead comes home from the visit to the empty offices to find that Tabitha Tate is sitting in his train car, waiting for him. The music whooshes to let us know that this is the 2023 Tabitha, not the 1955 Tabitha. She’s not wearing her glasses. I also don’t know if 1955 would’ve just barged into someone’s residence like this one has, but in any case, Jughead is immensely pleased to see Tabitha. He gives her a hug, then asks where her glasses are. She’s also managed to haul a TV into his space.

2023 Tabitha lays out the very strange things she has to tell him in a very straightforward way- she’s not the Tabitha traveling with the NAACP. “I’m the Tabitha that you’ve forgotten.” Jughead makes a choked sound if disbelief at this crazy thing she says (which was actually a really good, grounding performance choice. I liked this throat sound a lot.)

Tabitha invites him to sit down in his own armchair. Jughead looks at her askance, but he isn’t sure that this isn’t some sort of joke, so he keeps grinning awkwardly. Then Tabitha switches on the TV, and in full 2017 digital color the show Riverdale starts playing.

Our story’s about a town, Jughead narrator is saying over the drone scan over the town of 2017 Riverdale.

Is this a color television?? Jughead shouts, looking very elated, then he starts to hear what the narrator is saying, “From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns.” He recognizes himself, and he does that thing that I think most people do when encountering their recorded sound in an unexpected way: He lowers his own voice, by a lot, to ask “Is that my voice?”

Tabitha is in some sort of rush, because while she’s showing Jughead the first episode of the first season of Riverdale while making a cameo appearance as a pivotal character in the penultimate episode of the final season of Riverdale all she can think to tell him is to “Just absorb.” She says that she will “explain everything” after the absorption.

The Jughead S1 narration is still going on: “The name of our town is Riverdale” and as though in answer, the soundtrack song starts with, “Tell me.” (Oh I see what they did there, lol).

We are watching the TV for a moment from Jughead’s point of view, and he gets sucked into the screen. (Uh, much as I have, for the past several years.)

Cut to later. Jughead looks completely destroyed. His eyes are wet with tears, his shoulders are up around his ears, his hands have no strength. Tabitha pushes a cup of tea at him, prompting him to say something. With his voice shot, Jughead says, “I remember.” Tears fall down his face, and he says, as he looks up at her, “I remember everything.” He is so upset - and honestly, Jughead has a lot to be upset about in the course of Riverdale.

Tabitha either is very impatient and kind of brutal or she has a huge amount of faith in Jughead’s mental resilience because she is relentless in deluging him with very difficult pills to swallow. She has the power to send people back in time, there was the Bailey’s comet, etc. She calls this timeline “dark, and nihilistic, and hopeless” but credits “all of you” with helping making it less so. Meanwhile she was trying to untangle jumbled timelines and shore up the multiverse.

Uh.

OK I need - I need someone to write me a companion book about what the hell she’s talking about. Fic writers, is this in the works? Can I commission one? Fantasy-scifi is not my genre, at all.

Jughead is still crying, but he’s trying to keep up. I kind of wish she’d take a breath and ask him what he’s most upset about, because he’s clearly thinking about whatever it is made him start crying while she’s throwing all this jargon around about the timelines.

He wants to know if he and his cohorts were successful in making this particular timeline less terrible. Very kindly, Tabitha tells him that thanks to their “innate decency” all of the work that they did have “started to reshape this town, this world.” She assures him that things will keep getting better. Still shaky with tears, Jughead gives an appropriately happy response. Then he asks her if she was successful on her crazy sounding mission.

Tabitha says that she gave up trying to untangle the messed up timelines and instead chose to weave each strand (??) into this particular timeline, to make it more stable, “to fortify it.” I think Jughead doesn’t understand what the hell this means any more than I do, but ‘more stable’ and also ‘fortified’ sound like they are good things, so he says, “Great.”

Then, looking very remorseful, Tabitha says that stabilizing this timeline meant that she lost the ability to move anyone back to the original timeline. “I can’t send anyone back to 2023.” Jughead, who had been leaning towards her, rears back, looking betrayed. He wants to know if this means the others “won't remember anything about everything that happened before?”

Are we including the Rivervale storylines into the “everything that happened” part of this?

Tabitha confirms that the other lifetime that Jughead just watched, the one where his life ended in 2023, is closed off to him forever. Jughead continues to look crushed. As a strange sort of consolation, Tabitha instead offers to show all the others what she’s just shown Jughead (uh, Seasons 1-6 of Riverdale the American TV shows) and “they can then decide whether or not they want to remember their other … adventures.” After loading a lot of editorializing meaning into that word, adventures, Tabitha further commentates by adding, “let’s call them.”

There is so much happening. Tabitha the Angel Time-Weaving supernatural person has somehow obtained the ability to watch and to show others the whole of Seasons 1-6 of Riverdale, when she herself was a featured character that grew increasingly important after being introduced in Season 5. And furthermore, Tabitha Tate, the most loving girlfriend Jughead Jones ever had, the one who never hurt him or disappointed him or lied to him, has OPINIONS about all the stuff that people did to themselves and to each other in Seasons 1-4. Jughead is crushed & appalled about being the only one in the 1950s timeline with the dual knowledge of both The Present and The Other Time, but Tabitha already thinks (has thought all along?) that many of the others actually would prefer not to remember.

As he did months ago at the start of this timeline, Jughead gathers a lot of people - a lot more people now actually - to tell them what they have no reason to believe.

This time, because he’s just watched six seasons of Riverdale in one sitting, he is a person of charisma and gravitas who must be taken seriously by everyone who hears what he has to say. Assembled are Cheryl, Toni, Dilton, Fangs, Kevin, Clay, Julian (Julian??? Why is JULIAN here?), Reggie (again, this Reggie doesn’t really have a relationship with this Jughead, but I suppose he came here as Archie’s +1), Archie, Betty and Veronica.

Very somberly, he tells them (some of them a second time in the same school year) about ‘the future’ then adds this additional detail that they now cannot return to their previous lives, but he has a method to help them remember, if they want to keep the memories he’s going to show them.

The reactions are as varied as the disciples reacting to Jesus’ announcement in the Da Vinci painting, only more depressed. Cheryl has legs crossed and is hugging herself defensively. Toni, seated, and Dilton, standing, have their arms crossed. Fangs massaging his forehead. Kevin and Clay, standing and seated with legs the identical width apart have their arms crossed in the You Talk But I Don’t Believe You crossed-arms stance of mental ward orderlies in movies. Julian, as the most competent dancer, is in the most interesting pose - feet, knees, hands, elbows, shoulders are each at a different angle. Standing ramrod straight next to him is Reggie, and this talk is giving him a bit of a migraine. Archie is staring open mouthed at Jughead, while Betty and Veronica look worried.

Jughead continues to speak with his Post Riverdale Bingewatch Charisma, so nobody dares to contradict or even ask questions. He sounds so serious as he says “you know where to find me.”

Betty does a mean-girl gaze-slide towards Archie, except Archie is focusing very hard on Jughead. He seems to be trying to figure out why Jughead is doing this after he more or less threatened him with incarceration in an insane asylum earlier this year and also simultaneously wondering if this whole monologue is some “Howl” type of poem. Anyway, Archie in this world loves two people only, and Betty isn’t one of them so he doesnt care what message she’s trying to convey. Cheryl looks with a ‘What Fresh Hell Is This?’ sort of expression towards Toni, who looks back at her with ‘This is some White BS.’ Veronica, this Jughead’s current girlfriend, appears depressed and looks at no one. Jughead looks keenly towards Veronica to see if she is willing to give him support, but she won’t look back.

So, all alone, as the bearer of a bizarre and unwelcome truth, Jughead leaves the silent room.

Back at his home, Jughead is making what looks to me like a mayonnaise and lettuce sandwich. He wonders if “any of them would take me up on Tabitha’s offer.” And of course, one of them does! It’s Archie, who makes it very clear he didn’t want to be here. “I drew the short straw” he says, before adding that he thinks this insanity that Jughead has been spewing might be good grist for his poetry mill. Oh, so I was wrong. Archie loves *three* people in this world - Fred, Reggie, and Allen Ginsberg.

Jughead takes the whole thing in stride, which may be one of the “dark, nihilistic” things that Tabitha thinks has been fixed through effort - the Jughead of S1-6 would be absolutely crushed to pieces at Archie’s, I Don’t Want To Be Here With You clumsiness. He started to cry when he realized Archie didn’t believe him about the comet and time travel at the start of the season, you know? By the almost end of S7, Jughead no longer makes Archie a priority in any part of his life.

Is this what healing looks like?

I suppose. I mean, it’s one form of healing, but it’s not the one I was hoping for, for Jughead.

At the bunker, where the Riverdale viewing will happen, Jughead thoughtfully leaves out a box of tissues for Archie before he puts the show on for him. “In the future, this is called binge watching” he says, lowkey sardonic, before taking his leave of Archie.

Some time later (I mean it would take at least 13 days if you were watching 9 episodes per day, right? If you increase it to 16 episodes a day it still takes 7.3 day) Jughead and Archie are at the diner, when it’s bright outside, to discuss. Archie looks shell shocked, slumping down in his seat. Jughead looks at him with some warmth. Archie then does what the other Archie also used to do: he talks about himself, first and foremost. He lists all his various roles & jobs first (boxer, prisoner, football player, soldier) before immediately moving on to his perennial other topic of interest, his father. It takes less than a minute for Archie to say “my dad” as the thing he found most meaningful from watching 117 episodes of Riverdale. Jughead’s gaze flattens completely as Archie starts to tear up about his dad, about Fred dying again.

Archie, burdened with grieving double time for two Fred, says he’s not sure what he’s going to tell the others when Jughead, looking at him with very cold eyes, asks him. He doesn’t even care what the others want to know - “I didn’t think I’d ever see my dad again… so I’m glad about that” is all he can say. Archie thinks that Riverdale the show is not to everyone’s taste (“I don’t know if they will want to see what I saw.”.).

Jughead doesn’t disagree, but he wants to help Tabitha do her mission, so he offers to be available to anyone else who wants to see what Archie saw. Archie takes off without a word of farewell.

Later still, on a wholly different day (because he’s wearing a totally different outfit) Jughead is still in that same booth, now reading a comic book. He’s approached by his (ex?) girlfriend Veronica of this timeline and his ex girlfriend of the other timeline, Betty. They are wearing the same shade of purple but in different designs. Veronica looks wary and sad, which makes me think they’ve broken up. They tell him that they’ve heard from Archie (I’m assuming that Archie was too busy weeping about the two Freds to go tell anyone anything, so Bee and Vee went to interrogate him). They want to see what he saw, but together. Jughead takes them to the bunker, where they sit side by side. After putting the show on, he leaves via Veronica’s side of the bunker, but he doesn’t touch her and she doesn’t spare him a glance. Before he leaves for good, he takes a short look first at Veronica then at Betty.

At the line “The name of our town is Riverdale” Betty and Veronica give each other alarmed looks. Is this because they recognize Jughead’s voice by this time and come to realize, Wait, HE is the NARRATOR?

A week or two later, Veronica and Betty have watched all the way to Episode 117, The Night of the Comet, and have come to confront Jughead at the diner. It’s night now. “You could have prepared us a little more for that, Jughead Jones,” Veronica says, dolefully

I mean probably, but also you dumped him a second time and without saying so, Veronica, for one, and for another, how can anyone really prepare someone else for Riverdale? Betty starts crying immediately, thinking about it all. The first thing she says though is “darkness” and immediately I am so bored. I am bored by Betty’s obsession with her personal darkness. All the kids of Riverdale S1-6 had huge problems, so it’s hard to determine who had the roughest, but honestly the one who complains about it the most is Betty, so here we go again.

Betty can barely breathe as she says, “My family!” right after bursting into tears about darkness, while seated next to Veronica Lodge. Whose father was actually a killer and more competent about it than Betty’s father, for one. And also Veronica herself is a killer (of a husband and then that same father) which they just watched. Also Veronica was a conflicted mafioso daughter whose father waged war of various kinds on her boyfriend/obsession Archie Andrews and her childhood male frenemy/ adult colleague type friend Jughead Jones. Betty is so self absorbed and tactless - she’s revealing that she really only watched for her scenes, and took in none of Veronica’s story. She doesn’t say OUR families, OUR fathers - she’s all me me me. Veronica frowns, can’t make eye contact, during all this.

“My father was a killer!!” Betty says, vibrating with grief & outrage which… okay fair, but also? What did I just say? So was Veronica’s! And the entirety of Jughead’s sufferings in S1 came directly from HIS father being a falsely confessed killer! So much of Betty’s externally expressed self-understanding is This Isn’t Supposed to Happen To Me! which is why I remain highly wary of anyone who is a Betty stan. Those people are the scary types of Americans, lemme tell you.

Polly being murdered and coming back to life is the next major thing that Betty of 1950 remembers of the series she just watched, but not that heaven is real, not the bit about Sabrina the Witch and her reanimated Jughead Body boyfriend telling her about the Book of Revelations actually being very relevant to the spiritual realm (Whore of Babylon = Betty etc).

Then Betty looks at Jughead, saying “You and I were together.” Which is the weirdest summary and as tactless as saying “my father was a killer!” to Veronica Lodge. S7 Jughead Jones, because he has zero feelings about Betty Cooper whatsoever, laughs because she’s being a bit ridiculous, quips back, “Yeah, till we weren’t.” And of course, the reason they weren’t is because Betty crushed him at least twice over, but S7 Jughead saw what he saw and doesn’t feel any particular need to advocate for his alternate universe self. Since Betty can’t really come up with something to say about why Bughead is no more that makes her look good, S7 Betty behaves just like the other Betty and abruptly looks away to stop talking.

Veronica jumps in with “I was with Archie,” which I think is an act of aggression of the most passive variety against the whole hideousness of Betty’s self serving and self pitying (to the max!) summary. The immediate next thing she says, “I killed my husband, Chad, AND my father” is more of the same. Like, how to tell the silly self absorbed girl next to you to shut the fuck up without addressing her directly. Veronica properly took in what had happened to her in the other universe, so Jughead looks at her with concern. It also deserves some note that “being with Archie” is said by Veronica with the same level of shellshocked upset as mariticide and patricide.

I guess Veronica and Betty jointly and severally decided that they couldn’t be the only ones clobbered with the trauma-smudged other lives that they led, so the immediate next scene is Jughead doing his bunker presentation, once again (“What you’re about to see is your past, but it’s also your future” delivered in the most doleful tone), this time to Toni, Cheryl, Fangs, Dilton and Reggie.

“Some of it may be disturbing” has to be the understatement of the year.

Then in a cute little wink to the four Asian boys playing two Asian characters switcheroo that has happened with Reggie The Character and Dilton The Character, Jughead specifically tells Reggie 3.0 that “at times, you might not even recognize yourselves.”

Kevin and Julian had no interest in seeing stories of a universe in which Clay and his human corporeal self don’t exist, respectively. I hate Kevin this season so very much (because let me say, tiresomely, again - he’s a misogynist and a manipulator unlike in other seasons) but this is an interestingly loyal choice. It doesn’t make me forgive the shit he pulled on S7 Betty, because I never will, but nevertheless, he earns half a point back from me. And Julian is just practicing good mental health and self preservation. Kudos.

Jughead doesn’t immediately exit the bunker once he turns Riverdale on the tv unlike what he did with Betty in the room (because beating a hasty retreat really was about Betty, right?). He starts to look at everyone as they settle into the story.

A couple weeks after THAT, they all reconvene, now with Angel Tabitha leading the discussion. Everyone looks deeply dissatisfied. “Now you know what your lives were like before the comet.” Because they all look so disgruntled and resentful, Tabitha tries to give them some perspective: “The people you loved, the people you’ve lost…” only to be met with dead silence. Jughead tries to brighten the mood with, “The good. The bad. The bear,” the last one delivered with a knowing glance at Archie. But Archie is still upset, I guess, that Fred Andrews dies in Archie’s teens not one but two alternative universes, so he is in no mood to smile about a pithy quip.

Since they’re getting nowhere with these people, Tabitha swiftly moves on to say an amazing thing: If they’d rather forget their past lives, she can make that happen. She delivers this line with the same level of calm like she’s offering everyone a cup of tea instead of a mind-wipe. Jughead tries to make it so this isn’t terrifyingly ominous by explaining that this is because Tabitha is “an angel” which he seems to conceive of entirely in the Hallmark greeting card/ Sistine Chapel baby angel sort of way. Angel Tabitha finds this adorable because it’s wrong. She’s the type of Catholic Angel sent down to kill the first born of Egypt, you know? The ones that have to tell shepherds and virgins, Do Not Be Afraid when they show up, because when they show up some unhinged shit is about to go down.

The quickest on the uptake is of course, Veronica Lodge. She was the group leader, I suppose, and is now speaking for the group. She announces that as a collective, the main cast of Riverdale opt to NOT remember the vast majority of Riverdale S1-6. The equivalences she lines up are once again very funny: Not Good Times = Serial Killers = Superpowers = Gargoyle King. I mean, Veronica’s superpower was toxicity where she, the person most touch-reliant for stress relief could touch nobody, so for her this is very true.

Angel Tabitha initially disapproves of this request, in a silent, nostril flaring way. Jughead the narrator, the truth teller & observer, immediately interjects, saying “It doesn’t exactly work that way” even though he doesn’t actually know exactly what Tabitha’s powers are or how they function. Tabitha corrects him immediately, that she can do a special (angelic?) kind of brain damage that leaves people with selective memories. She can in fact reshare “only the good memories” because she is merciful and thinks they “deserve at least that much.”

They do?

What follows is really the most unhinged thing ever, because we get the supercut of the “only the good” moments of Riverdale. Apparently. Allegedly. Which are:

-The core four laughing in a diner booth in S1.

-Archie bursting through the banner for the Bulldogs at the football game grinning (with the big where Cheryl hallucinates Jason and runs off crying deleted)

-Veronica zipping Betty into her cheerleader outfit.

-Kevin leading the kids in a sing along during Heathers

-Fred and FP reminiscing about the old days at the diner booth as their boys smile at them and each other (seconds before it got tense about who was going to pay)

-Veronica and Toni hugging and singing at the speakeasy

-Cheryl in a red unitard doing the Stupid Love number (which weirdly cut to Tabitha who was never there looking nostalgic about it)

-Cheryl running into Toni’s arms as she got rescued from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy conversion prison (but then without the ‘bad’ memory of being committed to that institution this upset-looking embrace would make very little sense) (cut to Choni looking very moved about themselves)

-Shirtless Reggie tossing a football at shirtless Archie (the day before Archie is supposed to go to prison) (cut to Julian, who for some reason is present to watch the ‘good moments’ reel making a meaningful face)

-The teenage boy objectification carwash where Veronica is bouncing around (but they failed to raise enough funds at that one) (Archie reaction shot goes here)

-Betty and Alice Cooper at graduation, holding hands and putting their heads together as Jughead forlornly watches his father drive off with his sister to join their mother, abandoning him once again (da fuck? whose happy memory is THIS?)

-The core four in the Jalopy (Archie shirtless and Veronica in a headscarf etc) (again, this Archie’s friends desperately giving him a ‘one nice day’ because he’s on trial for murder)

-The core four at the quarry, jumping into the water (same)

-The reformed Josie & the Pussycats performing, to everyone’s general glee . In that episode when Josie, the only one who achieved her teenage dreams AND became objectively successful came back to tell everyone how much they sucked. This cut is inclusive of the kiss that Archie plants on Kevin’s cheek. (Reaction cut to Clay making the smarmiest face at 50s Kevin, who absolutely refuses to react, sitting there completely stony faced).

-Kevin in full Hedwig regalia planting one on Archie’s lips is shown immediately after, which is weird because Hedwig comes way before the Josie & Pussycats episode. I think that’s because the song that’s playing has the lyrics “Deep in the dark/ Your kiss will thrill me” right this second and whoever edited it (Tabitha? God? Sabrina??) thought they would suit action to the word. (Reaction cut to Archie laughing about it while looking at Betty, who looks only patiently indulgent, while Jughead leans over, smiling, trying to catch Archie’s eye, but fails)

-Kevin-Hedwig again, this time in a 2 header shot with Fangs, singing (This shot DOES get a reaction out of Kevin, who looks not at Clay but at Fangs, but Fangs doesn’t look back)

-All of them tossing their graduation caps in the air (reaction shot to s7 Dilton giving that shot a soft smile, even though his other universe self had died by mutilation well before this point)

-Reggie kissing Veronica at her Speakeasy in silhouette (Reggie looks very pouty about this)

-Veronica kissing Archie in the closet at the spin the bottle party that Cheryl set up (which gets a smile reaction shot from Veronica while Jughead for some reason also looks entranced)

-Betty in her beautiful prom outfit coming down the stairs to Jughead with his corsage looking completely in love (which gets a Betty-and-Archie thoughtful looks reaction)

-Betty cheating on Jughead by kissing Archie because she doesn’t love Jughead anymore in Hedwig (this immediately follows the prom outfit reveal scene and I feel insane) (Reaction cut is Betty and Archie unreservedly pleased with this bit, but also Tabitha looking fond which - I mean that is so crazy making - Tabitha is pleased about the Barchie Cheating Kiss of Hedwig because this set Jughead on the path to his relationship with her, I suppose??) (The lyrics that are playing just as we cut to Tabith are “I fall in love again/As I did then.”

-Tabitha and Jughead kiss at the Diner when she’s his boss and his life is a complete shambles

This last ‘good moments’ bit makes Jughead look over at Tabitha, who is standing in the liminal space between the theater and the hallway, and pursues her as she starts to walk out. He follows her all the way outside, calling for her to ask, “Is this the part where you ghost me??”

She says she doesn’t need to stay to see how “the movie ends” since both of them know how it ends.

Jughead asks her to “stay.” She can’t because there would then be two Tabithas. Apparently other Tabitha can never enter Riverdale while Angel Tabitha is here. Tabitha wrote her other self a really exhausting life story - law school, biz school, civil rights advocate - and one that resolutely DOES NOT have Jughead Jones in it. Even though he’d been watching a whole reel of him kissing Tabitha with his arm around Veronica, Jughead insists that 50s Tabitha and himself never getting together means that Angel Tabitha should stay. (Logic does not compute).

He wants to know if the whole of Jabitha was real - where they had a life together, cohabited (set fire to newspaper publishers etc) and so on. Tabitha passionately insists that “it was all real. It all happened.”

Tabitha sits the two of them down to ask Jughead if he remembers their “epic date” at the end of the world, where they had two kids and grew them up and then yeeted them out of existence to be old together. Actually she doesn’t say that - she says “watched Titanic, ate at Pop’s” and it’s Jughead that says “we had a family.” She says that the time bubble where Jughead had a stable, happy, heteronormative married life with a kind, lovely wife and 2 kids “still exists.” Unfortunately, there is one path forward now from here. Here being 1950s Riverdale alternate universe where the youth of Riverdale collectively decided to give themselves selective amnesia. “And that is a good thing, Jughead, trust me!” Tabitha practically shouts.

See, they do this on tv - put words in the mouth of an unassailable character, to say to a beloved character - when they pull one over the audience. We generally trust Tabitha, and she’s staking her name and honor on this point, so we have to go with her on this one. The thing is, Jughead starts crying immediately - he looks crushed.

After a long moment of silent staring with very very sad eyes, Jughead quips that it’s very sad to him that Tabitha had to die to make all this happen. He’s made the logical leap that Tabitha can’t stay because she isn’t just Angel Tabitha she’s Dead Tabitha.

Tabitha retorts that she didn’t die. She says the comet was taken care of, that it won’t happen now because … reasons. Jughead makes an impatient “Augh!” sound, summing it up with “Classic time paradox” which earns him a ‘Oh, you’ type of headshake from Tabitha. They look sadly at each other until Jughead asks to kiss her goodbye. She agrees. The movie theater marquee says “Angels in the Outfield” is coming soon, which… wasn’t that made in the 80s? Anyway, Tabitha flirtily agrees (“Jughead Jones, You read my mind”). Jughead and Tabitha kiss in glamorous slow motion in front of the brightly lit marquee of the movie theater before Tabitha freezes time again and steps away from Jughead.

Jughead is all alone once again, standing there kissing air. Narrator Jughead intones that she’d given them “the greatest gift of all - our memories, edited for maximum joy. The good ones.”

The thing is, Jughead chose to remember all of it, because of course he would. That’s why I love him. He thinks it his duty as “the unofficial chronicler of their town.”

He goes back to the theater, to watch the deceptive super-reels. There’s Kevin? I think? in a tuxedo and bowtie which I assume has to be from prom (in which they all were forced to watch a traumatizing video that Jellybean made to attack her brother and Betty Cooper with). Jughead says that Betty was another person who opted to remember the dark times rather than just get brainwashed by the supercuts reel. “Betty understood that we are made up of moments of both joy and pain.”

I am taking this to mean that 50s Betty was cured of her very alarming stupidity by watching the smart S1-6 Betty do her thing (Because as deranged as that Betty could be, she was never as abjectly stupid as S7 Betty). 50s Betty is shown standing in front of her mirror in what looks like a blood flecked nightgown (that embroidery is horrible), recalling how her other self used to self-harm by digging her nails into her palms. She cries out of pity for herself, apparently, which doesn’t make me like her any better. There’s a lot to cry about in Riverdale, but I don’t know that THIS is the thing to focus on.

We cut to the diner where Jughead is being served coffee by Pops. Jughead is typing away in his booth. He says this is a “cosmic reshuffling.”

“But the stage was set for the final chapter of our epic saga about the Town With Pep, one that could only be called: Goodbye, Riverdale.” The song that plays as he says “Goodbye, Riverdale” is the opening song to the first episode, the one that goes “Tell me/ That I’m your baby/ And you’ll never leave me.” Jughead looks very sad as he looks down at the words, Goodbye Riverdale.

Who is saying this?? Which Jughead? Does 1950s Jughead have his narrator powers back now that Tabitha has gone? And WHERE has Tabitha gone? I mean up until now it’s really been Tabitha that was the Invisible Hand, right? He’s just been told by Angel Tabitha that there is only one path forward, so why is he calling this the FINAL CHAPTER? How does he know that it’s the final episode of the TV series he’s in? Was this the gift of Tabitha’s final kiss?!?

#riverdale opinion #riverdale 7.19 #riverdale s7 recap #riverdale s7 #riverdale episode recap

8 notes · View notes