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alarawriting · 3 years

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52 Project #38: All We Wanna Do Is Eat Your Brains

Like “No Lullaby” at number 19 and “The Lake” at number 20, this is a songfic. Unlike those, the song itself -- Jonathan Coulton’s “Re: Your Brains” -- is comedic, so this is a comedy wrapped up in the skin of a horror story. Trigger warning for zombies, but no speaking characters get killed by zombies in this story.

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The fifth floor of the six-story Peaceful Pines Towne Centre shopping mall was entirely occupied by the business offices of the real estate company that owned and managed it, and many other similar shopping malls.

It was divided into two halves, the west side and the east side, with elevators in the center, and locked, heavy wooden doors between the two sides. At one point both of those doors had been unlocked. On the west side, there had been attractive, frosted glass doors leading to the reception area; those had been smashed. On the east side, there were security doors painted the same color as the wall. Those were locked, but could normally be opened with company badges. The system that allowed the badge locks to work had been unplugged, and the badge lock itself had been disconnected from the inside.

Once upon a time, the salespeople and the financial analysts and the C suite had all had offices or cubicles on the west side, and the IT people, engineers, and facilities management had all had offices or cubicles on the east side. HR had been on the west side, but right near the doors; all the people from that department were all on the east side now.

The bathrooms were in the hallway; the break room was on the west side, with the coffee machine, refrigerator and water cooler. On the east side there was nothing to support human life except air, the water cooler replacement jugs, and several packages of granola bars that one of the engineers had stashed in her desk.

The security cameras still worked, so it was quite possible to see, if you were looking at the monitor screens, a disheveled, pudgy man with short, straight dirty-blond hair, wearing a suit, with skin that was normally the pinkish-beige of a white guy but was now kind of grayish and also yellowish, standing in front of the security doors. “That you, Tom?” he said cheerfully.

“Uh, yeah?” The man on the east side of the security doors was tall and skinny, with black hair in a ponytail. He was also white, but had the kind of skin color which could maybe mean Greek, Southern Italian, Northern Middle East, or something like that, except that it hadn’t seen much sun in months, maybe years. It also had a bit of a sallow cast to it, but nowhere near as strong as the man on the other side of the doors.

“Hey there! It’s Bob, from down the hall. Good to see you, buddy! How’ve you been?”

“Uh… okay, I guess? Overall? Today hasn’t been great though…”

“Oh, I feel ya, buddy, I feel ya. Things were going okay for me, too, but now I’m a zombie!” Bob chuckled. “Isn’t it funny, the curveballs life throws you?”

“Uh, yeah. Funny. Hey, if you’re a zombie how come you can talk?”

On the monitors, they could see Zombie Bob shrug. “I’m no egghead. I’ll let the scientists figure that one out. But we’re not all dumb just because we’re zombies, you know. I’ve been the head of Strategic Marketing for two years now… oh, but I guess you know that!” Bob laughed. “I know, I know, we’re coworkers! I don’t have to explain my position to you.”

“Sounds like maybe a touch of memory loss, there, Bob,” Tom said.

“Nah, nah, I’ve just been meeting with so many new people today! This zombie thing, it’s really underrated. I know I was practically pissing my pants when I realized I’d been bitten, but now that I’m a zombie? Oh, I know I look kind of unhealthy, but actually I feel great! No pain, and I’m never gonna have to worry about dieting again! Yeah, I’m gonna miss French fries, but to be honest I was considering doing keto, and this is kind of like extreme keto, right?”

“But zombies eat people. Right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course we do. Mostly brains, those are the best part. Hey, listen, Tom? Could you do me a solid here?”

“Uh… what do you want?”

“Ah, it’s not a big deal. I just need you to open up these doors so me and my new colleagues can come inside and eat your brains.”

Tom took several seconds to process this request. Finally he said, “Why, exactly, do you think we’d be willing to do that?”

“Hey, I know. It’s a big step, right? You just get a little bite, then you turn into a zombie and you live forever, long as you can keep eating, but we’re gonna be eating your brains, so you’re not gonna be turning into zombies. I can see why you’d be reluctant to do that.”

“Okay, so why did you ask?”

“Well, here’s the deal, Tom. You’re all gonna die screaming. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not this minute, but by the end of the day, it’s happening. So why put it off? Why put yourselves through the agony of anticipation? Just, you know, rip the bandaid off and get it over with.”

“Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.”

“Come on, I don’t think it’s unreasonable. All we wanna do is eat your brains. It’s not like anyone’s talking about eating your eyes here!” Bob laughed again. On the monitor, the elevator opened, and two more zombies came out. They began to scratch mindlessly at the security doors. “Hey, hey there, folks, we’re not getting through these bad boys unless they let us in. Save your fingernails and teeth for a softer target, okay?”

The zombies actually seemed to listen to him. They stepped back and stood quietly.

“I’m not sure you’ve fully thought this through, buddy,” Bob said in a genially condescending tone. “Don’t mean to nitpick here, but this isn’t much of a plan. I know you’ve got a few guns in there, and maybe you’ve got the extra water cooler jugs and the refills for the vending machine? But really, how long’s that gonna last? You haven’t even got a bathroom in there. Bet it’s getting pretty stinky.”

“We’ve got some supply closets over here , and some buckets. We’re getting by.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you can open a window and let some air in, or dump your buckets! Those windows in there, they don’t open. I know! I kept sending memos to facilities, asking if I could get a window that opened, and it was always, no, none of the windows open, they’re not designed that way! Guess they didn’t want any of C-suite to be able to jump if commercial real estate tanked again.” Bob laughed.

Tom stepped away from the door for a moment, speaking quietly and urgently to Nishant, who was waiting for an update. “They don’t know about the windows,” he whispered to Nishant, who grinned briefly, and then ran back toward the IT manager’s office. It was Tom’s office, but it was on this side, with his department, rather than on the other side where all the other managers’ offices were.

He returned to the door to talk to Bob. “We’ll get by,” he said.

“Whoo-ee. Only thing I can smell anymore is tasty meat, but I tell you, I don’t envy you. Hey, why don’t we compromise? You open up the doors so you can dump your buckets, and then we all come inside and eat your brains.”

“That isn’t much of a compromise, Bob.”

“Sure, Tom, but have you thought through your alternatives? I mean, what’re you gonna do, spend the rest of your lives locked up in half the fifth floor of the shopping mall? Good enough for now, I suppose, and maybe you’ll get used to the stink, but sooner or later you’re gonna run out of food and ammo. Guess you’re gonna have to make a tough call then, huh?”

“I guess so,” Tom said.

“No, I don’t envy you at all. The way I see it, your options are, die of starvation, wait for us to break down the doors and eat your brains, or let us in, and at least the third option’s pretty quick.” He laughed again. “Though I’m gonna be honest here, Tom, I’m gonna eat you nice and slow.”

Tom sighed. “I have to say, Bob, I’m a tolerant guy but I’m really leery of this lifestyle choice of yours. I mean, eating brains? Have you ever considered not eating brains?”

“Well, I’ve considered it, but frankly they’re so goddamn tasty, who wouldn’t? I mean, if you guys manage to hold us off long enough, maybe it’ll come to the point where you have to eat each other, and then you’ll be eating your own brains. It’d be better to just get it out of the way quick, don’t you think?”

“I think we’ll manage.”

“I don’t think you’ve really thought things through, though. But that doesn’t really surprise me. You were always a detail-focused guy, never had much of a head for the big picture. Always trying to solve the problem of today, even if it causes problems tomorrow. But me, the big picture is what I do.”

Tom had heard this particular spiel before. “So what’s the big picture, then?” he asked, as behind him Ekaterina tapped him on the shoulder.

“The big picture here is that you’re gonna be dead one way or another. The whole human race is gonna go, Tom. And by the way, I don’t appreciate your comment about my ‘lifestyle.’ I’d be reporting you to HR, but I’m pretty sure all of HR is on your side of the doors.”

“Who’s on your side?”

Bob laughed. “Oh, wait, I got it! You’re mad at the comment I made about gay lifestyles a month ago! That was supposed to be a zinger, right?” He chuckled again. “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear I don’t care about any of that stuff anymore. You remember Kevin, right? The graphic designer?”

Kevin had been 23 and engaged to a boyfriend who was a guitarist in a band. “I remember him.”

“Well, now he’s one of us, and that’s all any of us care about. Gay, straight, white, black, it doesn’t matter once you’re a zombie. We’re all united together.”

“When you say ‘us’. Who’ve you got?”

“Well, right off the bat we got Horace. You would never imagine how delicious he was. You’d think all that fat on his gut would be a problem, but I’m here to tell you, he was exquisitely marbled.”

Horace had been the CEO. Tom shuddered, as he removed his pants and shirt, stripping down to his underwear. “I meant, who’s a zombie?”

“Well, honestly, most of the folks over here, we ate them. I got bit on my lunch hour, and after I turned, I led a bunch of folks from the mall up here. They’re good people, though, Tom. Really focused and dedicated. Hard workers.”

“Working hard at eating people.” Tom handed his clothes to Ekaterina, and she ran them back tto his office.

“Hey, it’s hard work to catch you guys. It’d be a lot easier if you’d just let us in.”

“Okay, break it down for me, Bob. What’s our ROI on letting you in? Where’s the win-win?”

“Sure thing! Now you’re speaking my language, Tom. I think it’s really great that you’re willing to work with me on this.” In the monitor, Bob smirked. “So here’s the deal. We’re all really hungry and we really want to eat your brains. You’re stuck in half a corporate office with nothing to eat and nowhere to go the bathroom. And no toilet paper! Man, that's gotta be rough. So what I’m suggesting is, you let us in, we eat your brains, you don’t have to live through any more of this bullcrap, and you don’t have to watch your families and loved ones get eaten. What do you say?”

Tom swallowed. The laser printed message in 48 pt font, on the paper Nishant was holding up, said “15 FT SHORT.”

“I can see you’ve got some good points there, Bob. But we actually don’t want to get eaten, so I think we’re gonna stick it out for now.”

“I sympathize with that, Tom. And I appreciate how you’re listening and considering my proposal. I’d really like to help you out, any way I can. What if I offer fast mercy killing? We don’t start eating you until you’re already dead, and we bludgeon you to death fast, no biting and tearing. How’s that?”

“Give me a minute to run that past some of my people,” Tom said, and walked over to Nishant. In an urgent whisper, he said, “You can’t find any more cloth?”

Nishant, who was naked except for Western-style underpants, shook his head. “The bras and underpants for everyone here wouldn’t get us the rest of the way, either,” he said. “It’d be different if we didn’t have to support Jason’s weight=”

“No one gets left behind, Nish.”

“I know, but that’s why we’ve had to make what amounts to five ropes in parallel instead of just one, because Jason’s arms are not strong enough to support 400 pounds.”

“Okay, and is anyone proposing a solution?”

“Xi said we should toss down cardboard boxes, but they won’t take his weight either.”

Tom sighed. “I can probably stall Bob for another five, ten minutes tops. You’re engineers. Figure it out or we’re dead.” A 15 foot drop wouldn’t kill most adult humans, but it might well render a lot of them unable to run afterwards, and in a zombie apocalypse, that’d essentially mean death. “Have we got confirmation on the helicopter?”

“They say it’s on its way,” Nishant whispered, shrugging.

“Okay. I’ll tie him up as long as I can.” Tom returned to the door. “Sorry, that’s a non starter. I’ve got a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Bob said approvingly. “Hit me.”

“What if, and I’m spitballing here, you let half of us go, and you just eat the brains of half of us?”

On the monitor, Bob shook his head. “That’s not going to work for us, I’m afraid.”

“What about a quarter?”

“It’s logistics, Tom. There’s no way you get out of here except the stairs and the elevator, and they’re both overrun with zombies. I can’t control all the zombies in this mall, just my own people. You’re not getting to the bottom uneaten, and frankly, if someone’s going to eat you anyway, it should be me and my fellows. You can see my position on that, can’t you, Tom?”

“You could turn half of us into zombies, and eat the brains of the other half,” Tom suggested.

“No, afraid that’s not doable either,” Bob said.

“Mind filling me in on the decision process there?”

“No problem,” Bob said cheerfully. “We’re really hungry.”

“Huh. Well, I guess I can respect that, but that doesn’t get us past the hurdle that we don’t want to get eaten. You have any suggestions?”

“Sure, I can compromise a bit. I want to work this out with you, Tom. I’m not a monster.” He paused. “Wait. Technically, I guess I am. Huh. A horror movie monster.” On the monitor, he shrugged. “It doesn’t feel too different from normal!”

“I doubt most monsters think of themselves as monsters,” Tom pointed out.

“Hey, good point, good point.” Bob looked at his wrist, which did not have a watch on it. “Look, it seems like we’re at an impasse for the moment. I’ve got another meeting, so maybe we could wrap this up?”

“Well, we haven’t worked out a deal yet…”

Nishant came back. This time the 48 pt font on the paper he was holding up said “ROOF. JASON’S UP. REST OF US GOING.”

Tom nodded to acknowledge the message. He didn’t really want to know how his mostly nerdy and unathletic coworkers could have climbed to the roof in the first place, but it was only one story overhead, unlike the ground five stories below, so it was a good plan. He turned back to the door. “But if you have a meeting, I guess there’s no help for it.”

“Yeah, we’d better table this for now, sorry. We’ll come back to this. I know we can get to common ground, somehow. Just gotta work it out,” Bob said. “I need to report in to my colleagues who’re chewing on the doors. Real dedicated folks.”

“Sure, and I need to report to the engineers with the guns that that’s what they’re doing.”

“Hey, I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out! I know we’re all busy as hell, and time is the one thing we can’t get more of, right? Especially for you guys.”

“Not a problem, and I'm grateful for all the advice.”

“I’m glad you take constructive criticism well, “ Bob said, the genial condescension back. “Not everyone does. We’ll swing around to give another go at working things out later, and we’ll put this thing to bed when I bash your head open, all right?”

“Sure, if you don’t get a skull full of lead first.”

Bob laughed. “Man, Tom, you’re a funny guy! You should’ve done stand-up. See you later!”

As soon as he was gone, Tom ran for his office.

Bob seemed to have normal human intelligence despite being a zombie. As soon as Tom had realized that, he’d known he’d have to keep Bob distracted so the zombie couldn’t hear any of the sounds within, especially the sound of breaking glass. He was right that the windows weren’t designed to open… but that wasn’t much of a barrier for a dozen desperate engineers.(Well. Technically nine desperate engineers and IT personnel, and three desperate people from HR.)

It was a good thing Bob himself wasn’t an engineer, or he might have figured out what Tom had known, in a cold pit in his stomach, the whole time.

The security doors were nearly impenetrable. But the walls they were attached to were just standard drywall. And they didn’t even go all the way to the real ceiling – just to the drop ceiling where the wires were. So any zombie who knew that could climb up into the ceiling and then jump down. If zombies could keep their human intelligence, then it was just luck that only one of the engineers had been down at the food court earlier today when the zombies attacked, and he’d moved fast enough to escape.

The window in his office was shattered. There had been a heavy hammer in the facilities closet, and Alexey had managed to grab two guns and ammo from the Bass Pro store in the mall before coming up the freight elevator and getting in through the delivery door – which was, thankfully, on the east side. The glass on the fifth floor was thick, but between the hammer and a well-placed bullet, it had broken enough that they’d been able to smash the rest of it out.

Dangling just outside the window, where he could easily grab it and pull it inside, there was a cradle made of four ropes, where the ropes had been made by tying together scissored strips of everyone’s clothes. Tom stepped into the cradle, using the loops that had been tied onto the ropes to secure his wrists, and the straps on the bottom of the cradle to secure his legs. “Okay! I’m ready!” he yelled upward, and tugged on the cords.

His team pulled him up to the roof, with Nishant, Alexey, Xi and Timothy pulling on the ropes, and Jason sitting on the roof with the ends of the ropes tied behind him. Jason’s heart condition wouldn’t allow him to pull the ropes, but he could use his body as ballast to make sure none of the team fell. His face was pasty white, like there was no blood in his body, and he was breathing hard and sweating, but since Jason usually looked like that after any kind of minor exertion -- his heart was barely managing to do its job -- Tom wasn’t afraid he had turned.

Pete was holding one of Alexey’s two rifles. Ekaterina was unraveling the fifth rope and tying pieces of it around people’s waists and women’s chests, so they could have a tiny bit of modesty back.

“How did you guys manage to get to the roof?” Tom asked as he untied his straps and stepped out of the rope cradle.

“It was Ashley, actually,” Nishant said.

Ashley from HR was a petite woman, but in nothing but her bra and underpants, she was more muscular than Tom would have guessed. “ I do parkour and mountain climbing,” she said. “I’m not saying getting up here was fun, but you know, when the alternative is getting your brains eaten…”

In the distance he could see helicopters. “I know we contacted them already,” he said, “but let’s wave them down. Just to make sure.”

“We’ve got plenty of cloth to make flags,” Ekaterina said.

Tom wondered what Bob would think, when he and his zombies got the door open and found that they’d all gone through the window. The ropes had been pulled up, so he doubted that Bob’s first guess would be the roof… but Pete and Alexey were on guard with the guns, just in case.

Indrani, one of the programmers, leaned over the edge to see where they had come from. “Uh-oh,” she said. “They’ve found the window… looks like one of them is climbing out on the ledge.”

Alexey walked to the edge, cocked the rifle, and pointed downward. He fired. “Not anymore.”

They could all see the zombie fall. The shot hadn’t killed it – it was a chest shot, and they could see it flailing – but when it landed, a puddle of red appeared beneath it, including under its head, and it no longer moved.

“How much ammo have we got?” Tom asked.

“Enough to kill about 300 zombies, if every shot is perfect,” Alexey said.

“Which it’s not gonna be,” Pete added, somewhat unnecessarily. His brown hands were clenched so tightly on his rifle, the knuckles had turned white. “I’m… not the world’s best shot. I go to the range sometimes, get in a little bit of practice, but mostly I suck.”

“You’re probably better than most of us, though,” Tom said.

“I knew I should have gotten a shotgun,” Alexey complained. “At close range the rifle is almost useless.”

“You were under time pressure,” Ekaterina said. “If I’d been in the food court when a zombie turned and started biting people, I don’t think I would have been able to think clearly enough to go to the end of the mall and get a gun from the Bass Pro. Let alone two, and ammunition.”

“I think I see Bob down there,” Indrani said. “He’s… what is he doing?”

“Don’t fall off the side!” Timothy went to his knees rapidly, ready to grab Indrani’s ankles.

“I won’t. What are they doing?”

Rachel from HR peered off the side from a different vantage point on the left of the broken window. “They’re forming a human chain. Well, a zombie chain. One’s climbing on top of another and they’re holding onto each other.”

“That’s not good,” Pete said. “Alexey, you need help there?”

“No, stay covering the door to the roof.” It was chained and padlocked shut and the door was a metal security door, but who knew what would happen if enough zombies banged into it. Alexey took aim, and shot the bottom zombie of what was now a three-zombie human ladder, and all three fell. One managed to grab a ledge; the other two fell to the ground. One stopped moving; the other crawled feebly, her arms and legs obviously broken.

Tom looked up at the helicopter coming toward them. It had a rescue basket, large enough to fit all twelve of them. Twelve. The company had been thirty-three people this morning. He thought maybe one of the sales guys had been out in the field on a call, and the regular receptionist had been out sick, so… thirty-one people in the office had turned into twelve survivors. Plus some that had become zombies, like Bob.

A phone rang. Everyone looked at Donatella, the third of the refugees from HR. She was as underdressed as the rest of them, but she had a purse on her, made of a crunchy plasticky recycled material that no one had thought would hold up to the stress of being part of their escape ropes. The phone was ringing from inside it.

Donatella withdrew the phone, her hand shaking, and answered it. “Rose and Weldon Company, this is Donatella Antonucci, can I help you?” She listened for a moment. “Why don’t I put you on speaker?” And looked up at Tom. “It’s for you, do you want it on speaker?”

“Is it Bob?”

Donatella nodded. Tom rolled his eyes. “Fine. Put him on.”

“Hey there, Tommy boy! You there? It’s me, Bob, again.”

“Yes, Bob, I’m here,” Tom sighed. “No, we’re not going to let you in to eat our brains.”

“Yeah, I can see that you’re on the roof,” Bob said. “Who’s that with the gun? That Russian dude? Ilya or something?”

“His name’s Alexey, and yes.”

“He’s good,” Bob said approvingly. “But listen, Tom, it’s not too late to open up the door on the roof and let us in. We’re in the stairwell.”

“Then who’s trying to form human chains down there?”

“The correct word is ‘zombie,’ Tom, not ‘human’. Please don’t misattribute our species.”

“Okay, fine, who—”

“That’s Barry from Sales. You remember Barry, right? Always bragging about his workouts and his gym routines and the times on his runs? Well, turns out he wasn’t all hot air. I thought he got away from us – he sprinted off when we almost had him, and he was too fast for any of us to follow. But then an hour later he came back and joined us, because one of us had landed a bite and turned him. Isn’t that cool?”

“It’s really not as cool as—”

“I sure think it’s cool.”

“Bob, I’m a busy man, please get to the point.”

“Sure, Tom. I know your time is valuable, I don’t want to waste it. It’s just that you should know, Barry’s a talker, like me, so he has our colleagues doing the zombie ladder thing there, and I’ve taken us up to the roof, and I’m pretty sure we’re gonna manage to knock this door down sooner or later.” There was a “thump” from the chained, padlocked roof door. “So I’m just offering it up as an option here, you might want to consider just letting us come outside and eat your brains.”

The helicopter was getting larger, but the closer it got, it seemed the slower it was coming. “I imagine you could do that,” Tom said. “How many zombies you got in there?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“No real reason,” Tom said. “Just, we’ve got a pretty defensible position here and a lot of ammo.”

“That’s good to hear. Makes it challenging. A good workout before dinner always makes the meal tastier, isn’t that what they say?”

“Actually they say you shouldn’t eat until half an hour after working out…”

“Pretty sure that’s a myth, Tom. But you could Google it on Donnie’s phone. I know you don’t have one of your own, I found it ringing in your office when I tried to call you.”

“So what’d you do, wardial numbers until you hit one that rang?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I probably should have thought of one of the HR ladies first, since I know they got over to your side before you closed the doors. By the way, Bart? In sales? You know, the guy who didn’t make it to the door before you shut and locked it? Dee-lish. Appreciate you leaving him for us.”

“Bob, have I ever told you what an asshole you are?”

“That’s really not professional language, Tom.”

“I know, but I’m standing here in my underpants and you want to eat my brains, so I’m not feeling very professional. I have a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I think you guys should strongly consider the merits of eating shit and then dying. Especially you. After fucking off so long and so far there’s no longer any off to fuck. And also going to hell, straight to hell, without passing Go or collecting 200 dollars.”

Bob laughed. “Man, you’re funny, Tom! I’m gonna miss these little chats after I crack that skull of yours like a steamed mussel shell and scoop out the brainy goodness inside.”

Another “thump” from the stairwell. Alexey shot another zombie chain, sending three more of them falling. “This is fun,” Alexey said. “Tell Bob I’m looking forward to blowing his head off. I want to see if he still has red blood or if it’s turned green like some of these guys.”

“I heard that fine,” Bob said. “Is that Alexey? I’ve always liked Russian food.”

“Were you this big of a clueless narcissist when you were alive, or is this just a zombie thing?” Tom asked.

“Oh, come on, Tom, I thought we had a rapport. I thought we were making some progress, working on this thing together.”

“Bob, when you and I worked together on identifying cities whose legislature might be open to letting us build a new Towne Centre shopping mall in their town, we had a rapport and we made progress. You really wanting to eat our brains is just not our problem and I don’t feel obligated to help you with that.”

“Yeah, what do you guys even do for the company?” Bob snarked. “We’re not an IT company, we don’t write programs. We develop and sell commercial real estate. All we ever needed was one dude to hook up our PCs to the Internet. We didn’t even need servers, we could have kept it all in the cloud.”

“We did keep it all in the cloud, Bob. We haven’t had servers in about five years.”

“So what did your department even do? How did you justify your salaries?”

“Among other things, your database marketing plans wouldn’t have gone very far if we hadn’t been maintaining the database… but that isn’t even the point.” The thumps and the sounds of the shots had grown more frequent, and the chain, somewhat rusty, was actually rattling hard. It was entirely possible that if Bob and his zombies just kept throwing themselves at the door, it would break open.

Again, not the engineers’ solution. But Bob, and Barry for that matter, seemed to have retained their normal human intelligence… not gained any intelligence. Bob hadn’t thought of makeshift explosives yet. Or shoving a long heavy-duty file into the crack and filing away at the chain. Or anything else that might work.

“I can’t hear you very well, Tom, what’s going on out there? Sounds like you’re standing right next to the air conditioner, or a generator?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bob, maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom lied as the helicopter, finally above them, lowered its rescue basket. It was hard to hear Bob through the “whup-whup-whup” of the helicopter blades, but Tom made the effort to talk normally, rather than shout into the phone as instinct told him to do.

“What?”

“I said maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom said, as rescuers directed Jason to sit in the exact center of the basket, and then had the rest of them spread out by estimated weight, to balance the load.

“What? I can’t hear you at all, Tom, what’s going on?”

Very loudly, because now he was in the basket and standing right under the helicopter and its whups, Tom yelled, “What’s going on, Bob, is fuck you!”

He hung up on the zombie and handed Donatella back her phone as the helicopter climbed, pulling the rescue basket into the air. “Block him.”

There was another human chain of zombies forming, now that Alexey was no longer in a good position to shoot them down. Tom, on the edge of the basket facing the building, stuck his middle finger up and leaned out as far over the edge of the basket as he dared, making the gesture at Barry and his zombie ladder as broadly and visibly as he could.

#52 Project #zombies #songfic #comedy

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mama-m1na · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Game: Chapter 2

~~~II~~~

The rest of the week passed pretty normally for the ravenette save for the fact she now was working with a murderer on the dark web for the second round in her life.

With her magic she would find and provide information of the male’s targets and in exchange she received half of his pay.

Since each job pulled in about $10,000 depending on how hard it actually was to pull off, she was getting large amounts of money and quite fast.

Despite the male’s suggestions, the ravenette began pouring a chunk of her own earnings into a fundraiser the band started to collect funding.

Of course she did this by disguising the sender as one of her relatives living in the Philippines so nothing could be traced back to her.

Everything was going well for the ravenette as she ran her band practice, with Lyle sitting near the podium after football practice had ended.

The only thing which could be concerning was the rising plume of smoke coming from a mountain in the distance which almost no one was concerned about since there were a lot of fires that happened in southern California.

At around 7:30 Rhamina went with Lyle to a boba place after her Tuesday practice to support another band fundraiser.

As soon as she entered, her eyes locked onto the familiar figure of her literal partner in crime sitting in a random booth near the back of the store.

“Who is that?” Lyle asked with a frown, positioning himself in front of Rhamina as the strange male turned to look straight back at the ravenette.

“It’s one of my work partners and it looks like we need to talk,” she sighed, recognizing the look in Koda’s crimson irises as something concerning, “Can you just order for me?”

“Taro with popping raspberry boba, right?” the brunet asked earning a nod from the female before he leaned down to whisper, “If he causes you any trouble do not hesitate to scream, Rhamina, I’ll be there.”

She nodded before making her way to the secluded corner of the store which was flooded with band kids.

“Have you checked your work phone recently, Mina?” the male asked putting emphasis on the nickname he just started using since the ravenette usually wished to be addressed by her alias; however, circumstances change in public.

“I did this morning,” she explained as she watched her kids cheerfully interact in the boba shop, “Why what happened?”

“See for yourself,” the male scoffed, taking a sip of his drink while the ravenette pulled out her cheap phone to see a notification.

“This can’t be happening,” Rhamina whispered as she read the message she had received.

It read:

Hello fellow magic users!

It has been brought to my attention that there are many of us that lurk these waters and I don’t really think it is much fun when we have such an advantage over our other players so I decided to set up our own game!

This is a ‘Hunger Games’ style hunting game where you are both the hunter and the hunted.

This is what you all wanted when joining the dark web, right? A blood bath? Well, here you go.

It will take place all over the world and only those currently in the original game will be valid so those of you that received this message are the only players which means no players will be added while many players are being eliminated.

And of course it’s only fair that I am a player as well.

The game ends when there are five left standing and those five not only escape with their lives but also gifts from the Fates!

The game has already started so good luck and

WELCOME TO THE GAME

~Game Master

The ravenette placed the phone back in her bag before slamming her face onto the table in frustration.

“What the fuck is this?!” she squealed quietly as the male looked down at her, “Why did this have to happen now?!”

“So what’s your plan?” Koda whispered so only the teen across from him could hear.

“Lay low and let the others get rid of each other, I guess,” she replied bringing her head up as she saw her friend started to walk back, “And take some time to teach you how magic works.”

“Here,” Lyle stated as he sat next to Rhamina, handing her the purple drink.

“Thanks, Lyle,” she chirped scooting closer to the wall so her friend could sit.

“And who might this be?” Koda asked with narrowed eyes, receiving a glare from the seventeen-year-old male across from him.

“Koda, this is Lyle, he’s a friend from school,” Rhamina introduced with a smile, despite the fact she could feel the heavy air surrounding them, “Lyle, this is Koda, one of my work partners.”

Neither of the males said anything, but Lyle could feel himself getting angry just by being in the presence of the male.

It felt as if the man across from him was putting him down, trying to make him bend and break, but Lyle wasn’t having it.

Before anything could escalate Rhamina reached and placed her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

“Well, it’s getting late, don't you think?” she asked with an awkward smile, “We should get going.”

“Yeah,” Lyle growled lowly as he stood, keeping a tight grip on the ravnette’s hand as he led her outside.

Feeling something strange he lifted the female’s hand as they approached his car only to find that there was medical tape covering the outer part of her hand.

“What happened?” he asked with a small glare.

“I honestly don’t know,” shrugged the ravenette, “We were unloading the trailer during class and I guess I slightly skinned myself on something.”

“You are going to lose a limb one day and you won’t realize it until you pass out from blood loss,” Lyle replied with an annoyed look on his face.

“You’re not wrong,” chuckled Rhamina as she got in the car, waiting for her friend.

“So you’re staying the night, right?” she asked once the brunet got back in his vehicle.

“I’m staying for the rest of the week actually,” he corrected after starting the car, “So you’re driving in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” she chirped while looking out the window at the darkness of Temecula.

It was silent for most of the drive as neither of the teenagers were in the mood to play any music.

“Hey, Lyle?” Rhamina asked, eyes still trained on the landscape beyond the glass, “What would you do if I were a criminal?”

“You already are one aren’t you?” he responded carefully, glancing towards the female with his peripheral vision.

“I’m not talking about shoplifting, Lyle,” sighed the ravenette, leaning her head on the glass as she closed her eyes, “What if I were a murderer? Would you hate me?”

“What kind of questions are these, Rhamina?” the male asked, an image of the man’s stare popping into his head.

After a minute of silence the male sighed before answering, “At this point I don’t think I could hate you for anything.”

“But what if I were twisted enough to enjoy it? What if my mind were so far gone? Would you still try to vouch for me then?”

“Rhamina, you’ve literally gotten thrown, degraded, and almost killed in order to prove that I wasn’t just some hopeless delinquent only looking for a fight,” the male scoffed, tightening his grip on the wheel before loosening it with a deep breathe, “Don’t you think I would do the same for you?”

“I know you would and that’s what concerns me,” the ravenette muttered so the male couldn’t hear her but he did and a frown appeared on his face.

When the pair arrived at the female’s home, Rhamina said, “You can take the room right next to mine,” as she stuck her keys in the door.

“Like always,” Lyle chuckled as the teen pushed open the door to be greeted by her dogs as well as her mother.

“Hi, Lyle,” the Filipino greeted as the pair stepped inside, “How are your parents?”

“In Vegas… Again.”

“Ah, well, Mina, your jacket is on your bed,” the mother said, turning to her daughter that set her water jug on the kitchen counter, “Go try it on I want to see.”

“Oh, you already picked it up?” the ravenette asked, not a trace of excitement coming through her tired expression before she rushed up the stairs, leaving the brunet to follow after her.

Without needing to ask, Lyle just sat on the ravenette’s bed as he waited for her to finish changing in her closet.

After five minutes the female emerged from her closet wearing a black camisole and black shorts with her own letterman jacket over it.

A dumb smile was on her face as she looked over the jacket on her form.

The body was a navy blue color with white embroidering for the female’s name, school, and activity; while, the sleeves were a grey leather with a class patch on the left and two other patches she brought in on her right. There were three more patches on her back under her last name as well as a smaller patch of a red fox on her left pocket.

Overall, Rhamina was very satisfied with it and thought it summed up her achievements well.

“Dude, this is going to be sick once it’s done!” the ravenette sung as she took it off and hung it back in her closet, “My mom is making me get patches from all of the comps we go to so I can add them later. Plus she got me a Sailor Moon patch and a sugar skull too!”

As the evening went on the two just kept talking until Rhamina just cringed at her personal phone screen.

“What happened?”

“You don’t want to know,” the ravenette groaned as she began typing out something only to let out a yelp when the male took her device.

“Wait you really don’t want to read that!” Rhamina squealed as she tried to reach her phone only for the male to lay down on her.

“It honestly can’t be that bad,” the brunet chuckled only to earn a small glare while he read as his own expression fell.

“I fucking told you so.”

“Your sisters share way too much information,” hissed the teen as he placed the purple phone onto the floor beside the bed.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve lived with it four like nine years now?” she replied before tapping the male on the shoulder, “Can you get off now?”

“No,” Lyle huffed as he blocked his eyes from the lights above them, “I’m comfortable.”

“No, like it’s getting hard to breathe, Lyle.”

“Fine,” the male huffed as he scooted off the female only to wrap his arms around her waist and put his leg over hers so she couldn’t escape.

“You’re a fucking child, at least let me turn off the lights so I can sleep somewhat normally,” Rhamina said as she tried to struggle against her friend.

“No.”

“You piece of-” Ring! Ring! Ring!

With a sigh the male reaches behind him to where he threw his phone and answers it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” a female voice screeches through the phone as Rhamina smirked, already knowing who it was.

“Chloe? Why the fuck did you call me?”

“Get off of her!” the fifteen-year-old demanded as chuckled began to erupt from the ravenette who was still trapped in a cage of limbs.

“How the fuck did you even know-” “My ‘Mina Senses’ were tingling, now get the fuck off!” she continued with an accent on her last two words before abruptly hanging up.

“Well, better do as she says and use this chance to change please,” Rhamina said as she sat up, pushing Lyle’s arms away.

The brunet reluctantly did as he was told, cursing under his breath on his way to the bathroom.

Five minutes later the male returned to the bedroom which was now covered in darkness, the only light coming from the ravenette’s phone.

“Are you actually sleeping in here?” she asked as Lyle placed himself on the right side of the bed.

“What does it look like?” he asked as he scooted closer to the female to see what she was watching.

“God dammit I have really weird sleep rituals you know?” the ravenette hissed as the video came to a close.

“What, do you listen to anime ASMR in order to fall asleep or some shit?” Lyle chuckled earning silence from the female as she placed her phone on the ground and turned her head the other way, “Seriously?”

“Shut up! Their voices are soothing and it distracts me from my late night thoughts,” muttered the ravenette as she shifted to face her friend, “They’re disturbing as hell… It’s not like I’m listening to hentai or something.”

“How about we just talk then?” the male suggested after a few moments in the darkness, “Just close your eyes and have a conversation with me.”

“Okay,” Rhamina sighed as she closed her eyes.

“Did you know it would take the blood of about 400 people to make the blade of a longsword?” she asked causing the male to snap his eyes open and just stare.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You said to have a conversation and I started one.”

“Where did you even get that information?”

“Internet.”

Ting!

An unfamiliar tone rang out through the room.

“What was that?” Lyle asked as the ravenette shifted again.

“It’s just my work phone, Lyle,” she whispered, “I can look at that in the morning.”

“Was it from that guy?”

“Koda?” Rhamina asked with a yawn, “Yeah, probably. He’s the only one that actually texts, the others usually email.”

“You need to stay away from him. He gives off dangerous vibes.”

“I know, Lyle. I know.”

“Then why do you still-?” “Fate is an ass, okay?” the ravenette said before Lyle could even finish his question, “I know being around him will cause me trouble through association but he isn’t a bad person and he isn’t looking to purposely hurt me. If I get into any trouble it’ll be my fault. I know that and I accept that.”

“You’re fucking stupid,” hissed the male as he wrapped his arms around the teen.

“I know.”

The next day passed by quickly with Rhamina taking the bus home once again since Lyle had practice.

Once she was in the seclusion of her room she immediately flopped face down onto her bed and let out a scream.

Apparently, the money she had been earning and donating to the band program wasn’t enough.

If they didn’t get more money winter season would be canceled and possibly the program would cease to exist by the next year.

‘Why can’t people actually give us funding?’ she thought as frustrated tears rolled down her cheeks, ‘We put hundreds of hours into an eight minute performance and no one gives a shit but others in the activity. It isn’t fair. We have more trophies than our own football team and the district can’t replace the percussion instruments we’ve had since the school opened when they spend about $400,000 a year on the football team. Our team isn’t even that good!’

With heavy breaths the ravenette looked to the side to see a sharpened knife she kept on a shelf for crafting purposes.

As she stared at the blade a notification tone came from her work phone.

It was a message from Koda saying that he had secured another job and needed information on a girl named Kaya Marni.

Making her way over to her altar she placed a bundle of feathers at the eastern point of it, a candle at the southern point, a bottle of charged water at the western point, and an amethyst crystal at the northern point.

She then placed an old leather journal as well as a fountain pen in the center, over a drawn pentagram before she opened the circle.

Once she did so the ravenette opened her eyes to see a light purple aura covering her.

Turning to the mirror behind her she could see the aura form into nine tails behind her as well as a pair of pointed ears on her head while the gold flecks in her eyes glowed bright.

Opening the journal she handed the pen to one of the tails and felt her aura expand and search.

After a few moments the tail began writing in the journal about the new target and it appeared that the girl went to her school.

Once it had finished sketching out the girl, Rhamina knew why the name had seemed familiar to her.

It was one of the girls from her bus and Rhamina did not like her.

The girl was very entitled to herself and extremely rude.

The ravenette couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact the younger female would suffer quite a painful death if she acted the way she normally did.

“God I am so fucked up,” she chuckled before closing the circle and putting everything back where it was supposed to go before sending the information off to Koda.

However, as she did so a thought came to her.

‘Why don’t just do the same thing I did when I started playing? I might be able to earn more money that way.’

Immediately turning off the location on the cheap phone, she connected her bluetooth keyboard and made her way to the dark web.

‘It’s been awhile since I’ve seen this,’ she thought as she scrolled through the old website she used to run when she first sold information, ‘Jesus Christ this is old.’

She spent the next hour fixing and updating the website before she made her first post in five years.

“Guess who’s not dead?”

Once she was satisfied with how the website looked, she exited and sent a text to Koda asking if there was an easier way to access the dark web since she only knew the long way, before hopping into the shower.

In a darkened apartment, a brunet with crimson irises looked down from his TV to see a notification on his phone.

His eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the new website seeing that there were already fifty requests in the first half hour that it had been up.

“What the hell does she think she’s doing?” the male growled as he stormed over to his computer and pulled up a log of the ravenette’s recent text messages, stopping when he read a group chat message.

“Announcement!” it read, “You will be needing your own ride back from the competition this week since we cannot afford busses. Also because we aren’t receiving much donations and since people aren’t paying their fees, we might have to cancel winter season altogether this year.”

The twenty-one-year-old’s eyebrow twitched as he called the teen.

“Kitsami, what are you thinking? You’re already part of one major game right now and now is the time you decide to revive your website?! All for what a stupid school program?” the male hissed and he could feel the air around him thicken and drop in temperature.

“Shut up, K, you don’t know shit!” the ravenette hissed, “This program is what kept me alive all four years of highschool, like hell I’m letting it tank. Let me be selfish dammit! I know I’m already playing a game that I’m most likely to lose! Let me take advantage of what I have!”

“I’m trying to make sure neither of us lose! You said your plan was to lay low and let the other players kill each other off. What happened to that?”

“It’s not like I’m actually going after anyone! And so what if they do come to me? Let them, I am different than I was in sixth grade. Hell! I’m different than I was literally this summer! I have something to live for now and you bet your ass I’m not going to die because of this shit!”

The man took a deep breath before a small smile graced his face and he said, “I’m honestly glad you grew up to be like this but now you’ve just given me even more reason to worry about you. You do realize that just because you have magic doesn’t mean you’re invincible right?”

“I should be the one telling you that,” huffed the teen as she plopped onto her bed, “I know the dangers and weaknesses of most magic, K, I’ll be fine. Plus it just adds another fun factor to the game!”

A smirk appeared on the male’s face before he responded, “You’re right about that, but are you sure you’re willing to take that risk?”

“I’ve taken it before haven’t I?”

“Fine, but you better not do anything stupid.”

“I won’t, I know that people have gotten better at this, but you can’t forget that I have too.”

As Lyle parked his car in the ravenette’s driveway he noticed that the teen’s blinds were open for once giving him a clear view into her room.

‘That’s weird,’ he thought as he sent a text to Rhamina, telling her that he was at the door, ‘She hates having her blinds open.’

Not even three seconds later the front door opened to reveal the ravenette in her house clothes and hair wet from the shower she just took.

“Welcome back,” She chirped closing the door behind the brunet once he had stepped inside, “How was practice?”

“It was fine,” he sighed while taking off his shoes before continuing on into the Filipino household, “Why are your blinds open?”

“Oh, I need to show you!” the teen squealed with a bright smile, “It’s really cute!”

“Should I be worried?” the male asked with a slightly tired glare.

“No! Now come on,” the female urged as she dragged the male up the stairs and into her room.

She led him to her bed and gestured at the window whose blinds were open, willingly, for once.

On the other side of the glass was a nest with four small eggs inside it.

“What the hell?”

“They’re dove eggs, I just noticed it a few minutes ago when I was checking for cars outside,” explained Rhamina with a smile, “Apparently, this happened while we were at school so there is a chance my alarm might just be the doves.”

“Why were you checking for cars?” the brunet asked as he laid his head down in the female’s lap as she gazed at the eggs.

“I don’t know if you noticed this yet, but there are really shady people in Temecula, Lyle,” she explained while petting his hair, “Have you ever wondered why we keep our porch lights on all night long?”

“Literally three years ago there were kids walking around here with guns, knocking on peoples’ doors in the middle of the night,” she continued with a sigh as she moved to close the blinds, “they came to our house on a night in summer so my family was all downstairs watching anime. I remember the doorbell ringing and being hella confused since it was around midnight. None of us answered the door but we heard from our neighbors the next day that people were going around at night knocking on peoples’ doors.”

“I never heard about that,” Lyle said as he looked up at his friend.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “This place really isn’t as quiet as people think. The only reason it’s so ‘safe’ is that the people who commit crimes here know how to clean up and hide their tracks.”

“Would you be one of them?”

“No,” the ravenette chuckled, “I don’t have time to think of something or pull it off, but I do know some of them… I think I told you about Maritza?”

“Oh yeah, the one with the deranged cousin,” the male spoke after a few moments of thinking.

“Yes, that one. He literally went to jail in middle school for doing heroin on the side of the road but was bailed out by his cousin,” Rhamina continued with a smile as she reminisced on her past.

“Well, I’m going to go take a shower then,” Lyle said with a yawn as he stood up and walked out of the room.

Once the door was closed behind him, the ravenette reached for her work phone and pulled up her newly made up website to see her inbox was flooded.

With a smile she went and answered the easiest questions, allowing the money to be transferred to one of her accounts.

It was honestly surprising to see that so many people were willing to pay such an amount for stupid questions such as ‘How do I get my wife to not leave me?’ or ‘How do I hide this body?’ Anyone could literally find this information on a blog site but she was getting paid so who was Rhamina to complain?

The ravenette was having fun answering questions and providing information until a certain comment caught her attention.

It read:

‘You’re just a fake, magic isn’t real, Cunt.’

‘This person literally paid $10 just to insult me,’ the ravenette thought with a glare, ‘They should no better than to fuck with people on the dark web.’

As the temperature dropped, the ravenette lifted the phone to her lips as she recorded a message for the sender.

The next morning as the two teens were getting ready for school the news played in the background.

They sat beside each other at the table as Rhamina was playing an anime on her phone for both of them to watch.

“That kid is way to happy…”

“That boy dead,” Rhamina concluded before taking a bite of her toast with an egg on it.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Lyle replied as they both kept their eyes on the beautifully animated piece.

“Fucking called it,” the ravenette spoke with a hand in front of her mouth as the said character was just shot in the head.

“You know it’s kind of sad when you can tell if a character dies just by them being on screen for five seconds,” the brunet commented earning a middle finger from Rhamina who was still chewing.

“And what does that say about you?” she retorted, “You said the same thing!”

“I don’t recall actually saying that he would die,” Lyle shrugged with a smug smirk, “I just said that I agreed with you.”

“Fucking bullshit!”

“...And just last night a man was found dead in his apartment,” the news anchor spoke, “He was said to have been dealing with the Dark web and died with his phone in hand after listening to an audio clip he had received.”

Both teens turned to the tv when the anchor had spoke and the ravenette raised a brow.

‘So the fucker lived in Idaho, huh?’ she thought as she read the headline.

“Police are currently unable to determine the direct cause of death but there were many signs of struggle in the man’s apartment, leading people to believe he was murdered,” the news anchor continued as pictures and video of the crime scene were shown, “Regarding the audio clip he was listening to, the police were given an anonymous tip that it was from someone on the dark web. We were given special permission to play the clip to display how dangerous and real the dark web actually is, so here it is.”

“So you think this is all just pretend, don’t you?” the voice speaking sounded disembodied and slightly distorted; however, it was quite easy to tell that the voice was female, “You obviously haven’t been in the game long and won’t be for much longer but here’s a tip, if you want to insult someone, make sure that the individual can’t retaliate and that they can’t find you.”

~~~Fin. Chapter 2~~~

#welcome to the game #Chapter 2 #Original Story

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writeradamanteve · 6 years

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Campbughead @writeradamanteve: Day Twenty : Science Fiction

COWBOY JONES

Words: 4,837

Chapters: 1/2

Rating: Eventual Smut

Pairing: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones

Summary: To get away from her overbearing mother, Betty jumped at the chance to work as a mechanic for the Whyte Wyrm. The ship’s captain, FP Jones flies across the galaxy hunting bounties for a living with his son and daughter and their lives are as exciting as they are mundane. Betty’s ready to adventure with this ragtag family of space cowboys (and when she wasn’t working, daydream about the handsome Cowboy, Jughead Jones).

ONE

Betty tapped her spoon on the edge of the bowl and it made flat, metallic clinks. The bowl was huge, intended for mixing large portions of food, like Garden-tossed Salad or a macaroni dish that served three, but all of the smaller bowls were still in the sink, unwashed from the previous night’s homemade macaroni and cheese. It had been Jughead’s turn to wash the dishes and it wasn’t a surprise he had shirked it. He shirked as much housework as he could, but Betty refused to clean up after him. She may have feelings for the 3rd Quandrant’s most effective cowboy, but she wasn’t going to let him push her around.

At the bottom of the bowl was a pile of cereal and some chunks of a banana. The banana was still okay, but in about a day or two it would be overripe.

Combined with the stale bread we could actually make decent pudding.

She shook her head after the thought. She was getting tired of being the only one in this goddamn spaceship who cared to think about recipes for leftovers. Before she came around, the Joneses tended to let their leftovers rot in the fridge.

I swear, they’d all expire if I weren’t around.

It was a little past eight and she expected that the other occupants of the Whyte Wyrm would be waking up soon. FP was usually up around the same time she was, but he must’ve been exhausted from that last bounty they had to catch.

They had been successful, thank goodness. They needed the funds, as evidenced by the low food supply, but Jughead had said payment wasn’t due to arrive for another two days. Alliance money came slower when it needed to be transferred from the 1st to 3rd quadrants of space.

This, quite understandably, put Jughead in a foul mood. He was swearing all the way back from the planet Ursula K in his speedcraft, which he dubbed Hitchcock. His profanity had clogged Betty’s radio frequency for minutes on end.

She normally didn’t mind when he cursed up a storm, but this time, she tuned him out, his swearing was so bad.

He was also, still asleep, though he might be waking up soon.

JB’s sleep schedule didn’t count as a schedule. Her hours were as erratic and random as she was; she slept when she wanted, wherever she wanted, whether it was on the couch, on the stairs or on the kitchen table.

Betty moved the cereal and banana around. They were fresh out of milk, but there had been some chocolate syrup in one of the cupboards.

Desperate for some semblance of breakfast, she had poured some of the syrup on top of her mixture. Everything, after all, was good with chocolate.

Her mother, Alice Cooper, would be furious if she knew her daughter was having chocolate first thing in the morning. Then again, her mother wasn’t here. She was at least two wormholes away, which was how Betty preferred it. She wouldn’t have had taken FP’s job posting for a space mechanic if she didn’t.

The chocolate was predictably delicious and probably unhealthy, but she figured she needed the fat anyway. Her shorts were loosening and she thought perhaps her boobs were shrinking.

The thing about living in the Whyte Wyrm and depending on bounty rewards for their prosperity was that food was either in abundance or went starvation levels low. Feast or famine. It was therefore smart to load up on calories when there was something, anything in the pantry.

To the side of the bowl was her coffee and she took a sip of it.

She breathed in its fresh aroma and sighed happily. Decrepit as their lives could get on the ship, they at least believed in good coffee. FP always insisted on buying the best brand. Betty had no complaints, even when it was her turn to buy the groceries.

Betty felt the caffeine invade her system, and it was good.

She began to munch on her makeshift breakfast as little by little, she felt less aggravated by their lack of food supply.

There was a sound behind her, and judging by the light but slow stride, it was Jughead. Betty didn’t even bother to look. Newly out of bed, Jughead was even less sociable than usual.

In the morning, Jughead was what her mother would classify a disgrace to the public. His ink-black, scraggy locks tended to look a bit bent out of shape and the scowl on his face was enough to deter everyone who saw him from making smart-ass comments about it.

He shambled out of his bunk in wrinkled combat pants and his white, wife-beater shirts, sometimes torn, sometimes yellowing from overuse. Sometimes he didn’t wear a shirt at all, which often caused Betty to wonder if he wore anything under those pants of his.

Not that she was complaining. Jughead Jones wasn’t a tank, by any means. His limbs were long and his body was lean, but those lines of muscles were certainly there. Like his body was pulled tight, and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

He took one look at her and she met his gaze with an arch of her eyebrow. She was ready for him, but he hadn’t even had his coffee yet.

Jughead made no comment, heading straight for the coffee machine. He poured himself a mug and he padded to the stool beside her, hunched over his cup. She paid him no attention as she munched on her breakfast and drank her own coffee.

After a while, probably after the caffeine kicked in, he was awake enough to speak. “What’s that?” He was looking into her huge bowl.

“Cereal, banana, and chocolate syrup.”

“Where’s the milk?”

“We ran out.”

He was silent, probably cursing the emptiness of their refrigerator, and again the delayed reward, in his mind. There was a spoon on the table; neither of them knowing from whence it came, but Jughead didn’t seem to care. He took it, polished both sides of it with the edge of his shirt and began to point it towards Betty’s breakfast.

She scowled. “Really, Jug? There are still a couple of bananas in the fridge. Go make your--”

Ignoring her, Jughead tugged at her bowl and began to eat. She rolled her eyes and scratched at her scalp irritably.

“This is good,” he said through a mouth full of cereal and banana.

Sighing, Betty’s only response was to eat before he finished all of it.

Halfway through the meal, she caught him staring at her cleavage. She pretended not to notice, but she might have adjusted her shoulder slightly to give him a better view. She noticed that Jughead liked this particular shirt on her. She was yet to call him out on it.

He tore his eyes away from them seconds later, his face noticeably red.

She didn’t have that many clothes to wear. When she accepted FP’s job offer, she had rushed home, taken what she could into her small suitcase, and hurried out before her mother could stop her. She left a video message for her mother to find and by the time Alice Cooper found it, she was halfway across the galaxy in the Wyrm.

As a result, Betty’s clothing choices were limited. She could shot for new things, of course, but she preferred to save as much as she could instead of blowing it off on shopping. All she needed to do her job was a shirt and overalls. When she wasn’t working, she wore shirts and shorts. She had one sundress for special occasions. That hadn’t been busted out yet. There weren’t many social events to go to in their line of work. Bounty hunting wasn’t a very socially inclined industry.

Still, it didn’t mean she didn’t care what Jughead thought of her. If she ever bothered to wear clean clothes, nicely fitted shirts, and painted toenails, it was because she wanted Jughead to notice, and while he did seem to notice sometimes, he never said anything, which kind of drove her crazy.

And annoyed her. Constantly. Especially now, when he was eating her breakfast.

It was time to call him out. If only for her own sanity.

“Were you just looking at my boobs?”

He choked on the dry cereal, causing his face to redden even more. “Jesus, Betty.”

“Well, were you?” she cried.

He looked like he was struggling. He probably was. With the cereal. With his words. “You know, you wear a shirt like that--”

“This old thing?”

He dealt her a look that was less than amused. “Shoot me, alright. I’m exhausted, I’m hungry, and they were--you were in my line of sight. It’s just--I’m just too tired to look away, okay?”

She wondered about Jughead sometimes. She’d never once seen him come home with a girl (or guy) or left with his whereabouts unknown. He always got back to the Wyrm alone and only left for assignments, or quick errands.

For a good looking, healthy twenty-something, who didn’t appear like he was awkward with those who were overtly attracted to him (she’d seen him grin cockily at a few admirers, men and women of varying species, even) he sure didn’t seem to have much of a sex life.

Not that she was doing any better. She hadn’t gotten laid for far too long.

Jellybean swooped into the kitchen, her laptop open in her hands. She was typing something on it, her fingers flying. “Morning, grouch!” she said to her brother without looking at him.

He grunted, but he turned away from Betty, probably relieved that a distraction bailed him out of his very awkward situation.

Hotdog, the Joneses’ sheep dog, followed her in, yipping excitedly, after which he began to lick Betty’s perfectly manicured toes.

“Ugh! Hotdog! Gross!”

Jughead laughed upon seeing the disgusted look on her face.

“Aw, he just likes you, that’s all,” Jellybean said, not looking up from her laptop.

Betty liked Jellybean. She was a sweetheart, but she often had her head in the clouds. She never had any in-depth conversations with Betty, only fleeting, distracted ones. So she figured Jellybean wouldn’t care if she skipped making nice for stopping Hotdog from slobbering her foot. She tried desperately to shake Hotdog off her.

Hotdog simply refused to leave Betty alone, so she lifted her foot, growling menacingly in the hopes of scaring Hotdog off, but she miscalculated her balance and she promptly began to topple back on her seat. She screeched.

Jughead lunged, and was brutally punished for his good deeds with Betty’s foot as it swung up and hit him square on the chin.

“Dammit, Betty!”

Betty figured it was going to be a pretty bad fall and she braced herself for impact, so she was relieved when her head remained suspended above the floor, her butt still wedged on the stool. She craned her neck and found that Jughead had grabbed her ankle as he glared at her.

“We don’t exactly have proper health insurance, you know,” he muttered. He reached over with his other hand, grabbing her by her upper arm. He yanked her up to sit her up, and she told herself she only imagined the extra rub her arm felt as he disengaged his hand.

“That damn foot’s like a sledgehammer,” he muttered.

Ruffled, but otherwise unharmed, Betty tried to regain as much of her dignity as she could. “Sorry, the dog--”

“Bad Hotdog!”

The dog whimpered.

Betty was surprised he yelled at the dog. Jughead tended to snort off any inconvenience Hotdog had visited upon her, like when the dog chewed on her slippers, or when he peed on the side of her speedcraft. Maybe she was finally being let in?

And while she was trying to understand the moods of Jughead Jones, she realized that he saved her a bad knock to the head. “Th-Thanks.”

Jughead arched an eyebrow. “For yelling at the dog?”

“For catching me.”

“Yeah, well…” He began eating the rest of her cereal. She let him.

Jellybean started singing a pop song. A grin spread on her face as she looked at the bottle of chocolate syrup. There was a cartoon cow on it. “You know what planet outside of earth has cows?”

Betty sighed. She still couldn’t believe she understood that as Jellybean-speak for “I have something.”

“No JB,” she replied. “What planet outside of earth has cows?” Not that she was expecting a straight answer….

Jellybean’s fingers wiggled and danced over the keyboard.

Betty exchanged raised eyebrows with Jughead before they turned to watch Jellybean with growing interest. Several faces came up on screen, set side by side on a grid; men and women with bounties written below them.

“Pick a face, Betty!”

Sometimes, Betty just found it easier to do what she was told. She pointed to a face of a man. Handsome and rugged. His bounty was also the biggest on the page. “Jason Blossom.”

Jellybean nodded.”Good choice! I knew you’d pick him for his dashing good looks and inspired bounty. Blew up a stadium, this one. Accidentally, I’ve found. But he inadvertently killed the Prime Minister’s daughter so...”

Jughead snorted. “Dead man walking. Did you find him, JB?”

She nodded, delighted by her own success. “He’s raising cows in Oberlin Major. For beef. He’s a space rancher.” She typed a few more things on her laptop before she pressed the final button with a flourish and turned it around so that both Betty and Jughead were looking at the screen.

It showed a crowded space port on one half of the screen, like a video feed. On the other half was Jason Blossom’s face with pin-pricks of pixels dancing over it.

“Face recognition software?” Betty asked.

Jellybean wiggled her fingers maniacally. “My special program. Better than any of the ones in the market.”

“Better, how?” Jughead asked.

“It crawls data by geo-location.”

Betty and Jughead exchanged looks. That was most certainly illegal, but then again, Jellybean’s primary function was to get them through the inconveniences of galactic red tape.

The frequency of the pixels followed the movements of the video, until finally, the pixel flashed on and off, corresponding to a face in the crowd that seemed to match the flashing pixels on Jason’s face.

Betty leaned over to look more closely at the feed. “Is that--Is that him in a wig?”

“That’s a girl,” said Jughead.

“How do you know it’s not him dressed as a girl?”

Jellybean started to giggle madly as she pulled up the information about Jason. “Jason Blossom of Thornhill Mansion has a twin, Cheryl!”

The young hacker pulled up another video of Cheryl in the terminal, stepping into a passenger ship. Jellybean paused the video and zoomed in on the digital sign perched on the ship’s dock. The sign said, “Oberlin Major, Boarding.”

Betty’s eyes widened and she pointed to the picture. “You figured out Jason Blossom was Oberlin through that? She could’ve been going there for something else entirely.”

Jellybean began to wiggle her arms. “My ways are mysterious and brilliant.”

“That’s for sure,” said Jughead from the corner of his mouth.

Jellybean pressed some commands on her laptop then peered at her monitor. “A movie is filming at his ranch. That’s how I found him. And cows. Cows outside of Earth are delightful curiosities.”

Betty chuckled. This girl was crazy and delightful. She wished Jellybean would let her in more.

Jellybean cracked her fingers. “On the set of the unreleased film Rocketship Salsa, someone took a picture and posted it on Instantgram.” She turned her monitor around again, showing them a photo of a fan with one of the actors of the movie. In the background, there was a blurry outline of a cow and a redhead. Jellybean zoomed into the picture, cleared up the pixelation, and clicked “Match” on her facial recognition interface. The software blinked excitedly. Jason’s face matched with the figure in the picture.

Betty was, once again, thoroughly impressed.

Jughead made a sound and nodded. “The real crime here is that a film named Rocketship Salsa is being made because they think it will make them money..”

Betty shot him a look, but she did follow it up with an amused grin. “So are you and FP going for it?”

“Hells, yes. It might even pay us sooner than that goddamn bounty yesterday.” He ruffled his hands through his hair and Betty longed to touch those silky strands.

Do I even have enough batteries left in my vibrator, I wonder?

Betty sighed. She needed an occupation. “Can I come with? This ship is running perfectly and I’m really, really… ” horny “... bored.”

He seemed to be thinking about it. It wasn’t as if she’d never done a run with them before. She was handy enough with a firearm to help where she was needed, but it was never a given. She always had to ask, and while FP tended to just say, “Sure thing!”, Jughead always seemed to be resistant to the idea.

She exaggerated batting her eyelashes and pouting her lips. “Please?” She might have angled a bit for some cleavage, too. She wasn’t above that right now. If he jumped her, she wasn’t going to complain.

He rolled his eyes. “Christ, fine. But do as I say. If something happens to you, this hunk of junk will give out at some point and then we’ll really miss you.”

The only reason what he said didn’t hurt was because he was half-grinning as he said it.

Betty clapped her hands. “Wonderful! JB, send me all that info, won’t you?”

“Okie, dokie.”

“Hey, does dad know about all this, JB?” Jughead asked, pressing the buttons on his wrist tagger. A screen projected above it and he moved some data around--probably the information Jellybean sent him.

Jellybean shook her head. “Dad was up early and left early.”

Betty was surprised about that. She made a grunting sound.

“One has to wonder,” muttered Jughead, probably meaning he didn’t really care.

“Dad took the Chopper and I didn’t ask, but I could track him.”

“Don’t bother,” said Betty and Jughead in unison. One thing Betty learned about living in the Whyte Wyrm was that FP always came back and it was always better not to know what FP was up to in his free time. It was either too embarrassing or too illegal. Either way, both her and Jughead didn’t want to know.

They looked at one another for about two seconds before they realized that both of them would be needing the shower. Betty had a one-second head start being nearer to the door as she shot down the hallway. Jughead was close at her heels.

As the bathroom door came into view, she grinned triumphantly to herself. But in the next second, she felt strong arms grabbing her from behind and shifting her around. Mid-shift, she planted her feet against the wall and kicked, slamming Jughead against the opposite wall in the narrow hallway.

Jughead’s grip didn’t loosen in the least, but her leg muscles were strong enough to make him immobile, pressed between her and the wall.

Jughead cursed his predicament profusely.

Betty was too annoyed to gloat. “Dammit, Jughead! You can’t cheat me out of first-shower rights!”

Jughead grunted against the pressure. “Since when did either of us make first-shower rights easy?”

She exerted more pressure and he growled.

“Stop that! Are you hoping to suffocate me?”

Betty growled in frustration. “This was funny the first 3 times but it’s getting old, Jones!”

In spite of himself, he laughed. “Speak for yourself!”

“Look, Jughead. Just let me bathe first and I promise you, I won’t use up all the hot wate—“

“Like hell!”

“Even if I do, at least I don’t leave the floor and towels sopping wet; and I don’t make mush out of the soap, either!”

“Betty, get offa me!”

“I’m using that bathroom first, dammit!”

“Okay! I’ll let you! Just get the fuck off!”

“Promise!”

“Okay, already!”

“Say it, fucker!”

“I promise! God-dammit, Betty!”

She slackened her legs and he let her go.

Barely keeping her balance, she turned and arched an threatening eyebrow. If he tried anything...

He put his hands up and grinned, then his eyes flickered down to her her collar.

Once again checking her out.

You know, that shower’s big enough to fit two people smashed together.

She wanted to say it, but lost her nerve. When he didn’t do anything, she took a deep breath and headed for the shower.

8888888888888888

By the time Betty was done getting dressed for the day, Jughead was already lounging on the couch, letting his hair dry. Jellybean sat on the table, humming a made-up tune as she tapped away on her computer, and Hotdog was Hotdog, watching her warily in case she had an urge to kick him out of the way.

Jughead gave her one look and arched an eyebrow. “You look… different.”

She rolled her eyes impatiently. Of course she looked different; she had finally put on her sundress. It was an airy green spaghetti strap with small flowers dotting it. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect for a romp out in the arid climate of Oberlin Major.

“Don’t wait up for me,” she said, slinging her strappy gold sandals over her shoulder.

Jughead watched her leave for their docking port.

She climbed into the Vixen, her personal speedcraft, and dumped her shoes into the cockpit. She liked driving barefoot.

“Hey, Betts.”

Mildly surprised, she looked up from her craft, watching Jughead approach from the doors. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“Reconnaissance. You and FP may not be big on homework and preparation, but I am. I like to scope out the site. Plus, there will be actors there. I’m a little curious.”

“So you’re going by yourself?”

She frowned. “What? Do you think I can’t handle it?”

He tilted his gaze. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just… do you want some company?”

Betty thought this an interesting development. She let her eyes scan his figure, up and down. Not that he was an embarrassment to be around with. She found him incredibly handsome and distracting, but she wondered if this was just him getting cabin fever or this was him finally noticing her.

She was well-aware she could just come out and make the first move. There was nothing wrong with that, per se, but she was, first and foremost, polite. She had been invited to this ship and she didn’t want to be the one to initiate a disruption in the dynamics. Getting down with the captain’s son was sure to change things. Even if she wanted it to happen, she wanted that initiative to come from Jughead.

His house, his move.

“I don’t mind company,” she said with a casual tilt of her shoulder. “Just don’t get in my way.”

He chuckled and climbed into his own ship. “You’re the boss.”

She scoffed, flipping her controls open. “Right. As if.”

“What?”

“Why are you really tagging along? Like, are you bored? Do you not want me to get a head start? Are you afraid I’d screw up?”

“Cooper, what did I even do to deserve that last bit?” He smirked, powering his own spacecraft.

“N-Nothing! I’m just curious. You’ve always let me go off on my own…”

“Yeah, when you want to window shop at the flea markets. But this is work. You don’t ever go out on the field without a partner. Dad and I go out together all the time. It’s for safety, Betts.”

Oh.

She pulled the strap on her seat and secured herself. “Fine.”

“Great. What’s the script?”

“Script?”

“Well, if we’re going to scope out the place, we can’t look suspicious. What’s our script? Our roles? Vacationing couple? Brother and sister? Pimp and whore?”

She shot him a glare. “Maybe vacationing couple.”

He laughed softly under his breath. “Vacationing couple, it is. Let’s go, sweetheart. We don’t want to be late to cast meetups.”

Sweetheart.

This was either the best idea or the worst idea.

888888888888888

Jughead looked at Betty through the Hitchcock’s windshield. She still refused to look back and he laughed to himself.

He was never going to understand Betty’s moods. One minute she was sweet and nurturing and another minute she was on his case, irritable and snarky.

Not that understanding her was really all that important. In spite of Betty’s mommy issues (the girl seemed to have a fear that her mother would catch up on her), he liked her enough that he didn’t complain about having her on the ship.

They needed a mechanic, for one. And she seemed nice enough, unfailingly polite at first, but thankfully less guarded the longer she had been around them. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Personality himself, so he liked how she seemed to have eased in instead of coming like a hurricane.

Her personality did bring a change of pace to the ship, however, which he thought surprisingly welcome. She tended to clean, which was a bonus of sorts--the Joneses tended to be a little more lax on that regard. But mostly he liked the quiet way she asked after all of them, how she tried to make clever contraptions and fix broken things. He liked that she read. Constantly. He liked watching her write in her journals and then put it away when she caught him looking.

He liked her skimpy outfits.

He liked those a lot.

He liked that she worked on the engine with those overalls that she only really used as pants. She liked that smudge of grease on her chin and the ginormous wrench she lugged around when she was in the engine rooms. He liked watching her work on his spacecraft when it needed an oil change, because he could happily stare at her legs when she was too busy to notice.

She did get cranky. She was human and they were in a cramped spaceship, where they had to turn sideways when they met in its walkways and ramps, where the path to the shower rooms were the perfect set-up for intensely flirtatious racing and close contact.

Even her anger was entertaining. Until he met Betty, he never knew fighting and calling each other names could be so amusing. Never mind that he sometimes got a little carried away and ended up irritating himself.

Maybe she wondered occasionally why she never had to deal with awkward encounters in the small hallways when it was FP or Jellybean. Maybe she didn’t wonder. Maybe she knew.

She was driving him crazy.

He would swear she deliberately flashed him her cleavage on a daily basis.

But did he really want to risk screwing the uncomplicated dynamics of their ship up? If he gave into his impulses and fucked Betty on the engine room floor, which he had fantasized about countless times, his father might very well eject him into space.

For one, space mechanics as good as she was who were willing to get paid a pittance with shitty benefits was rare. And second, FP seemed to have made an agreement with Betty’s mother that FP was to watch out for her like a daughter.

The only person, it seemed, who was more afraid of Alice than Betty was FP.

Ah, well. He was just going to have to jack off in the shower. Again.

He flipped on the radio, grinning as he channeled in on Betty’s frequency. “So vacationing couple, right?”

“Right.”

“Honeymoon or just a quick getaway?”

She flew her ship close to his so that they could be looking at one another through the clear glass of their cockpits. “What difference does it make?”

He slanted a grin. “Huge difference. Honeymooners are more lovey dovey. Quick getaways are more about touring and sightseeing.”

She shot him a scowl before veering her ship away from him.

He laughed, following her. “I’m serious!”

“Nobody’s going to care!”

“We’re professionals. We have to do everything right. Hey, you’re the one who said you want to do your homework and shit.”

“Fine. Quick getaway. We’re there to observe. So… you know, look at things. We can hold hands, maybe.”

He chuckled. Hold hands, indeed. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

“Okay, then. Anything else you want to talk about before we do this?”

“I really think we should go grocery shopping before we head back to the ship.”

She gave an irritated sigh, but she didn’t disagree. “Tell me that you brought money and don’t expect me to pony up for that.”

Jughead grinned. Maybe he liked to tease her occasionally, too. “Oh, right. Money! Yeah, about that…”

There was an audible crackle in his receiver. A sure sign that she had cut the transmission off. He laughed.

He was going to enjoy this impromptu mission.

tbc

#campbughead

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totallyrhettro · 6 years

Text

Territorial, chapter 6

Word Count: 2059 Rating: This chapter: G. Overall story rating: explicit Warnings: None Summary: After finally realizing their shared love for one another, all internetainers Rhett and Link had to do was live happily ever after. Unfortunately, as it turns out, that’s a lot harder to do in a world of werewolves. Notes: Takes place 1 year after Animalistic began. Still no wives; Rhett and Link are in an established relationship. This is a sequel to that fic. You don’t have to read that first, but it is highly recommended.

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First Chapter Previous Chapter

“Wood floors are easier to clean.” Link argued. Rhett nodded, feeling his position in this conversation quickly weakening. It was the last day of their week long vacation and they were headed out to breakfast to a different restaurant. They were hoping to avoid bumping into the Lowells if possible. While they drove the long road towards town, they were discussing what to do with the flooring, now that they had finished tearing up the old carpet.

“True,” Rhett admitted. “I just don't like cold floors, and you know how I like to walk around the house without socks on.” He liked to wear as little as possible in fact, when he was at home, and this small farmhouse was like a home away from home. He was planning on wearing very little whenever they stayed there.

“We can buy rugs, then. Nice, big, area ones.” It was a reasonable compromise, but Rhett still wasn’t convinced. He, as Link knew well enough, could be very stubborn once he set his mind on an issue. Still, he didn’t really want to argue and ruin the last day of their vacation.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, looking out the window. Link sighed quietly, a soft smile on his face. They could discuss it later, and the fact that they would be talking about it later gave him a strange, light feeling in his heart. It was just so… domestic. So normal. He had hoped someday for the two of them to be having such discussions while working on their dream home together. While the old farmhouse was far from what he had dreamt of, it was still wonderful. At the very least, it could be practice for whatever future still lay ahead of them.

The house they currently lived in together the rest of the time had been Rhett’s solo estate for many years. After Link had been infected with whatever crazy virus that made him a werewolf, he moved in with his lifelong friend, mostly out of necessity. It was in the basement of Rhett’s house that they changed every month, Rhett having constructed a safe room for their wolf selves with the help of Theo. It was cheaper to own one house between them anyway and Link’s house didn't even come with a basement. Still, the decisions of decor and design had been chosen years ago when Rhett moved in, and short of doing a complete makeover, there wasn’t much that could be done to change that. There were many times when Link still felt like a visitor to the place, even though his boyfriend did his best to make him feel at home.

“You wanna help me pick out the bedroom wallpaper?” he joked. Rhett cocked an eyebrow at him before realizing the levity of the conversation. They were deciding on how to decorate the house they bought to stay at while they became werewolves three nights a month. A strangely common conversation about a definitely uncommon situation.

“As long as we can go shopping for throw pillows after,” Rhett asked, putting on a voice. “I can’t possibly sleep in a bed without at least a dozen heart shaped pillows.”

“We’ll see.” Link held his straight face only until he met Rhett’s smirking grin. Then they both burst out in giggles. It was nice to know that despite the shared canine affliction, and their freshly altered relationship, there were somethings that would probably never change.

The restaurant, not much larger than their usual breakfast spot, was called the Night and Day Cafe. It was a very small mom and pop’s place, with a seating capacity of no more than probably thirty people. Rhett liked it because they had the largest pancakes he’d ever seen, each one the size of a dinner plate. They called it the ‘mancake’, which amused Rhett to no end.

“Yeah, I’m a man, Link,” he quipped. “Manly men deserve manly sized pancakes.”

“Then manly men will get manly sized bellies,” Link retorted, sipping his second cup of coffee. Rhett leaned back and gazed down at his stomach, trying to picture his naked torso in his mind’s eye.

“I’ve actually lost a bunch of weight since the, uh… thing.” He patted his belly to emphasize his point. “Never gotten so fit without working out. I’ll never have to go to the gym again.”

“Like you went to the gym a lot before.” Rhett frowned and looked his friend up and down.

“I worked out.” He flexed his arm a few times to demonstrate.

“Occasionally,” Link added.

“Just because I didn’t do tae bo with you-”

“Hey, tae bo is a great way to work out. That Billy Blanks, man. He’ll get you working up a sweat.”

“I can make you work up a sweat,” Rhett said, speaking quite a bit softer. Link nearly spit out his coffee.

“Geez Rhett.” He glanced around, wiping his mouth. “Don’t talk like that in public. What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh come on, Link. There’s no one in here ‘cept us and the waitress, and she don’t care.”

“I care. We agreed not to tell anyone about… us.” In fact they’d had a very lengthy argument about the whole thing months ago. They decided it would make things too complicated, between being in a new relationship and Link freshly bitten.

“Maybe I don’t want to hide anymore. We have to hide so much from the real world. I don’t like hiding my feelings for you. I don’t want to lie to our friends or fans any longer. I just… I don’t think I can take it.” Link sighed. He understood the feeling completely, and really he couldn’t find any good reasons not to come out and at least tell the crew about them. Well, about the dating and living together part.

“I just don’t know if I’m ready-”

“How you boys doing?” Rhett and Link looked up to see the waitress, an older woman with curly hair and a kind face, standing next to their booth, a jug of coffee in her hand. He name tag read Darla. “More coffee for you, dear?”

“No, thank you, I’m good.”

“I’ll have some,” Rhett piped up with much more of a smile than his companion. He held up his half empty cup which the lady filled immediately.

“Here you go, sweetie. And uh, are you two together?” Link froze, but Rhett, without missing a beat, laid his fingers over his boyfriend’s nearby hand. He straightened up, sure and proud before answering.

“We are, actually.” The waitress blushed, slightly, and stifled a giggle.

“Well that’s nice, dear, but I was just wondering if I should put your breakfast on one tab or two.” Rhett’s face fell, embarrassed and a bit flustered. Link stepped in, but didn’t pull his hand away.

“One check will be fine,” he offered. As the waitress headed off to ring them up, Link gave Rhett a sly smirk. “You’re paying, by the way. I think you owe me one.” Still ashamed by his earlier behavior, Rhett didn’t have it in him to disagree.

Quietly he finished up his meal and was just setting down his now completely full mug as the waitress came back with the check. He was finding it hard to look her in the eye and kept his gaze down as he pulled out his wallet. Link tried not to look too smug as he watched Rhett’s discomfort.

“You boys look familiar. You live around here?” the waitress asked, trying to make conversation and release the tension. Unfortunately that just made the internetainers more nervous.

“Actually, uh-” Link began, but Darla interrupted and a look of recognition crossed her face.

“Oh, I know!” Rhett held his breath. “You’re those nice boys who bought the old Ackerman farm, up on route six.” The two men tried to not look too relieved and Rhett even managed a sincere smile.

“That would be us,” he confirmed. “Just bought the place a few weeks ago. Been fixing it up this weekend, actually.’

“That place used to be real nice. I remember playing in the fields as a little girl, though Farmer Ackerman didn’t know that.” Darla chuckled at the memory. “Oh it’s a fine place, lots of open space for little ones to run around.” She was still smiling as she went to run Rhett’s credit card, but neither Rhett nor Link could think of anything to say in response to that. Whether either of them had ever thought about children, they had never discussed it with each other.

It wasn’t until they were back in the car and driving to their quaint little home away from home for the last time this month, that Rhett brought up the subject himself.

“Do you…?” He tried to bring it up, that is. “I mean, you want, uh, kids… right? We never really… talked… about it so I just wondered…” Link felt his mouth had gone a bit dry, and he licked his lips subconsciously.

Well,” he began, “I guess I just always thought I’d have them someday. Didn’t you?” Rhett nodded. It was almost a staple of southern life. Grow up, get married, have kids. Of course he always wanted to do those things, either way, but then he hadn’t always been a werewolf.

“Sure, yeah. Little McLaughlin’s of my own? I thought it would be great, I just never…”

“Never what?”

“Well, being in love with you, and all… I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the opportunity.” Link moved his hand over to rest on Rhett’s leg, warm and comforting. He understood completely. “Do you think we ever will?”

“I… I don’t know, Rhett. If it was just us... the normal us... I’d be fully onboard. We could adopt two, maybe even three and be one big happy family… but…”

“But?” Link sighed.

“It’s different now. You know? We’re… well we’re… I don’t want to say we’re unfit parents but, as werewolves? Our lives don’t exactly make for a safe living environment for kids.” It was Rhett’s turn to sigh, but he nodded all the same. He was already worried about hurting someone, a friend, a family member… Link. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ever hurt a child, let alone one of his own. It would destroy him.

“I guess you’re right.” Looking out the window, Rhett watched the roadside trees pass by, one after the other. He had been so certain this morning that things were slowly working themselves out. Link was getting better at maintaining his hybrid form, their work on the farmhouse was coming on nicely and their YouTube business was truly thriving. Now, as he slumped in the passenger side of their silver FJ cruiser, he realized that it just may be that something he always took for granted as being in his future, may never happen.

He never realized just how much having children of his own really meant to him.

Link was feeling much the same way. Even though he was trying to be practical, telling Rhett it would be dangerous for them to adopt children, he too had wanted them for a long time now. A few boys and girls to share his name and raise with his spouse, whomever that would be. A family, a real one like he had never had himself, growing up, but when every few weeks he and Rhett basically turned into ferocious beasts, he couldn’t risk it. Neither of them could. It wasn’t safe... for anyone. Being a werewolf, in his book, meant kids were probably never going to be an option.

As the two of them walked into the farmhouse that they had called home for the past few days, it didn’t seem to be as warm as before, nor as inviting. Neither spoke a word, heading off in different directions of the house - Rhett to the kitchen and Link upstairs - both feeling like there was much to say. Both feeling like there was nothing left to say. The building was quiet, and as Link sat down in one of the unfurnished bedrooms, he thought it sounded much too peaceful. Suddenly, the pleasant serenity of calm and quiet held no satisfaction for him. Suddenly all he wanted was to hear the patter of tiny feet, and the giggles of innocent youth.

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#rhett #link #rhink #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #werewolves #territorial

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spookadoop · 6 years

Text

American Sweetheart (Sweet Pea)

“Every snake has a soft underbelly...She’s yours.”

One | Two | Three | Four

You opened your mouth to retort, only stopping when you saw the familiar car of Reggie Mantle pull into the parking lot.

“Uh oh”

“What?” Sweet Pea asked, using your diverted attention to dip a fry into the remaining half of your milkshake. “Reggie and about half of the football team just pulled in,” You mumbled.

“So what?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“So, they hate anything and everything to do with the Southside. That includes the people.” You stated before narrowing your eyes at him. “Did you just put your fry into my milkshake?”

“You mean the milkshake I’m paying for? I sure did, Princess. And if those mutts try anything, I’ll just kick their asses.”

The door chimed, signaling the arrival of the Bulldogs. “Look what we have here, boys,” Reggie’s voice cut through the soft chatter in the diner. Multiple sets of footsteps approached your table as you gulped, practically feeling yourself retreating into your shell. “A serpent in the Bulldog Den. And what’s this with him? A Serpent Slut? We got a two-for-one!”

“I suggest you watch your mouth, Mantle,” Sweet Pea’s voice cut through the air. You winced at the ice cold tone he used. Sure, he was pretty much cold to you 24/7, but the voice he reserved for people like Reggie was just pure venom.

“Or what? What’re you gonna do? We outnumber you, Serpent,” Reggie taunted, stepping closer. Sweet Pea stood up to his full size, practically dwarfing the football players. You noticed that Reggie took a small step backwards.

“I think I can handle it,” Sweet Pea sneered, glaring down at the football player, taking a step forward. He paused when he felt a tug on his jacket.

“Can you take me home, Sweets? Please?” You asked quietly. The group’s eyes all fell on you as if just remembering you were there.

Taking in your tired face, Sweet Pea groaned softly. “Fine, let’s go.”

Sweet Pea pushed through the group of guys with ease, leading you to his bike. You immediately shivered once you stepped outside. It felt like it had gotten colder within the short time you were in Pop’s. Maybe it was just the milkshake.

“Sit in front of me this time. If you fall asleep and you’re on the back you’re probably gonna die and frankly I don’t feel like explaining that to Toni, Jughead, or Fangs,” He commanded, pulling you onto the space in front of him. You nodded, making sure you moved forward so he had enough room.

“And here,” He mumbled before a jacket was dropped on your head as he sat behind you. “If you get sick then the rest of us will end up getting sick.”

You slid the jacket on thankfully, laughing to yourself at how large it must have looked on you. And because it gave you slappy-sleeves. Sweet Pea’s chest ended up pressing against your back so he could properly reach the handlebars.

“What are you? Some type of human space heater?” You asked, feeling the heat radiating off of him. “I can take my jacket back, you know,” He retorted, revving the engine.

“No no,” You quickly answered. “I’ll shut up.”

You spent the entirety of the ride smirking to yourself smugly. All those years of acting like you were going to fall asleep any second to get out of your dad’s company events had finally paid off, seeing as Sweet Pea completely believed you.

When you pulled up to your trailer you could see your brothers’ lights were still on. “I’m dead,” You sighed, climbing off of Sweet Pea’s bike.

“That was some pretty good acting back there,” Sweet Pea commented, crossing his arms and leaning back on his bike. “It almost convinced even me. But not quite.”

You frowned, “I thought I was pretty good. How did you know I was faking it?”

“Well, after having the misfortune of seeing you in school these past few days, I’ve realized how you act when you’re tired. You’re either whiny, grouchy, a dumbass, or overly affectionate to whoever you’re the closest to. You were neither of those things. But you did look scared, so I let it slide.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms in the oversized leather jacket. “I was not scared. I just didn’t see why you needed to get into some dumbass fight for no reason.” You grumbled.

“A Serpent doesn’t show cowardice. It’s one of the laws,” Sweet Pea replied, pointing to the snake tattooed on his neck.

“I don’t think that means fight anyone and everyone that pisses you off, Sweets.”

The corners of his mouth tilted up into a slight grin at the name, before he quickly dropped them again. “You gonna give my jacket back or what?”

You tossed his onto his head, much like he had done you. “Goodnight, Sweet Pea,” You called out before making your way to the trailer. “Night,” He replied. You gave him a slight smile before shutting the door, knowing that the next time you saw him it would be like this night had never happened.

It was the day of Jughead’s final task and he was a wreck. What Toni had told him really messed him up. So, being the amazing friend you are, you had stayed with him that day, talking him through it. When he got the text from Sweet Pea saying him and the rest of the Serpents were heading over, you both made your way out of the trailer.

Since the night you went to Pop’s with Sweet Pea, things had been relatively the same. He didn’t make as many snide remark as he did, but overall it was as if the night had never happened. You were both surprised to see Archie Andrews standing outside the trailer.

“Archie,” Jughead murmured, looking surprised, and worried, that his friend was there.

“We gotta talk, Jug,” Archie replied. He seemed antsy.

“Uh, now’s really not a good time, okay? You need to leave,” Jug informed him, looking around for any sign of the Serpents.

“What’s going on?” Archie asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What the hell do we have here?” Sweet Pea’s voice rang out as you and Jug froze.

“Just leave him, alright,” Jug replied, walking towards the other boy.

“Wait. You’re friends with these thugs? Are you joining the Serpents?” Archie quizzed as you nervously watched Sweet Pea for any signs he was gonna explode.

“If he survives. And go ahead, and call us thugs one more time,” He growled, walking forward. Jughead pushed him back slightly as you walked over to add another person between him and Archie.

“Jughead. These are the guys who attacked me! Who attacked Reggie, and Veronica, and Dilton. Your friends.” Archie rebuked.

“Is that why you’re here?” Jughead asked. “To warn me?”

“No. I’m here to tell you to stay away from Betty. She doesn’t want to see you anymore.” You took a step closer to Sweet Pea, away from Archie and Jughead. You did not want to be in the war zone for that battle.

You watched in shock as Archie went on a rant on why Betty didn’t want to see Jughead anymore, glancing at Sweet Pea to make sure he didn’t attack Archie for calling the Southside the “dark side”. He only narrowed his eyes at the redhead.

Archie walked by you on his way out of Sunnyside, pausing when he saw you. He opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it, shaking his head, and quickly walking away at the threatening look Sweet Pea gave him. Jughead turned to face all of you.

“What!?” He snapped. “Did you enjoy the show!?” You took a step back, wincing . You may be used to Sweet Pea raising his voice at you all the time, but Jughead was a different story.

Sweet Pea seemed amused by his anger, a small smirk on his face. It fell, almost turning to a look of pity. Almost. “The show hasn’t even started yet.”

Jughead stared down the slowly growing two columns of Serpents. You stood at the end, observing with Tallboy and Toni, while Sweet Pea and Tallboy discussed the whole thing.

Your eyes widened slightly when you saw the brass knuckles Sweet Pea was sliding on. “You’re gonna use brass knuckles on Jug? Don’t you already hit hard enough?” You asked, eyes wide.

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “Relax, the last hit is always supposed to be the hardest,” He murmured wiping the knuckles off on his shirt.

“Yeah but wouldn’t you rather have a gang member that’s, oh I don’t know, alive?” You urged in a whisper.

“It won’t kill him, don’t be such a drama queen,” He retorted. “Now back up. I don’t want to accidentally hit you.”

“Awwwee, Sweet Pea, you do care!” You snickered, unable to miss a moment to taunt the boy.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just back the fuck up,” He grumbled, keeping his eyes on Jughead.

“You didn’t deny it though!” You called back, walking back until you were beside Toni.

You could barely stand watching all those people beat your friend, but just like with the kid you accidentally witness get initiated, the end was the worst. You could tell from the glint in Sweet Pea’s eye, this was gonna be payback for all those times Jughead pissed him off.

Your assumption was proved right when he swung as hard as possible, sending Jughead to the ground with a loud thud. He looked like he enjoyed it a little too much, in your opinion. Eventually, Jughead got off the ground, looking like complete and utter shit if you were being honest.

Sweet Pea held out his hand to Jug, a newfound look of respect on his face. After Jughead took his hand, he was handed his leather jacket. He had worn it before, after Tallboy had given it to him, but you could tell by the look on his face that it had a whole new meaning to him.

After everyone congratulated him, most of the Serpents disappeared to their own homes. A small few stayed, including Tallboy, who was going to give Jug his tattoo. Though you were tired, you decided to stay and watch your friend get branded by his new family. You promised you’d stick with him through the whole thing, and you never broke your promises. So, you, Sweet Pea, Fangs, Tallboy, Jughead, and Toni sat around Jughead’s trailer and watched the ink on Jug’s shoulder slowly form a double headed Serpent with their tongues sticking out, in the form of an S.

“So, Babydoll, you considered my offer any?” Tallboy asked, glancing up at you while wiping excess ink from Jughead’s arm.

“Uh, I don’t think I’d enjoy getting the shit beat out of me,” You replied, wincing at the thought.

“Girls don’t do the gauntlet,” Toni stated, taking a swig from her beer bottle. “They do the Serpent Dance.”

“What’s that?” You quizzed.

“Pole dance,” Sweet Pea replied casually.

You choked on your apple juice, face turning red. “You want me to pole dance!?”

“I said the same thing,” Toni nodded. Fangs chuckled, “And now, here you are. Stuck with us for life.”

“Um, I don’t think pole dancing is something I good at,” You remarked, shaking your head. You watched in awe as the needle deposited the ink into Jug’s skin. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo though,” You stated, more to yourself than to anyone else.

“Why haven’t you gotten one then?” Sweet Pea asked.

You scoffed. “My dad would have murdered me. But, my mom probably wouldn’t mind if I got one...” You trailed off before chuckling slightly. “Maybe I’ll join the Serpents just for the tattoo and cool jacket,” You joked. Sweet Pea chuckled, shaking his head at you.

But he couldn’t help but imagine what you’d look like with your own Serpent jacket on, on the back of his motorcycle.

Your next day a school was horrible. It stared out fine. Like any other day. Until, Mayor McCoy busted in with the cops following close behind. Immediately, anyone wearing a Serpent jacket was rounded up and placed into handcuffs. Basically all of your friends. With all of them being gone, it made you a prime target for the wannabe Ghoulies, resulting in a nicely bruised eye.

You had been minding your own business in the hallway when some blond boy turned around the corner. You recognized him as being one of the non-initiated kids that hung around the Ghoulies. He was also one of the guys that had surrounded you on your first day. Apparently, giving you a black eye was enough for the Ghoulies to consider allowing him to be initiated. So you felt sorry for the kid when Travis and Donovan came after him in the locker room the next day.

Thankfully, they couldn’t really keep any of the Serpents they arrested very long. So three days after their arrest, you got a text from Toni that she had sent one of the guys to bring you to he Whyte Wyrm. Unfortunately, she failed to mention it was Sweet Pea she sent. So when you forgot to cover up your eye with makeup, he immediately flew off the handle...both literally and figuratively.

The second he saw he glimpse of dark purple he shot off of his bike and over to you. “What the hell happened?” He demanded, tilting your head up to look at your eye.

“Nothing, Sweet Pea,” You sighed. “Can we just go?”

“We can go once you tell me who the hell did this,” He growled.

“Just a guy at school,” You mumbled, brushing past him and sitting on his motorcycle. “A guy!?” He shouted, leaning across he handlebars to look you in the eye.

“A guy hit you? When?” He demanded.

You sighed, “The day after you guys were hauled in. Can we go now?”

“No. Not until you tell me who it was.”

“Sweets, I promise you I’ll tell you about it later. Can we please just go to the Wyrm?” You begged, sliding back on the seat to give him room.

He stared at you for a few seconds before sighing. “Fine. But once we’re at school, you’re pointing out the son of a bitch that did this.”

You chuckled as he slid onto the seat in front of you. “I didn’t know you cared so much,” You teased, putting on the helmet he gave you.

He paused, looking back at you over his shoulder as you slid your arms around his waist. “A Serpent takes care of his own.”

“Mhm. Just admit I, I’m growing on you,” You teased, tightening your grip on his waist. Sweet Pea chuckled, “I plead the fifth.”

Despite being the one that waned you to come to the Wyrm in the first place, Toni spent a good hour or two in a deep conversation with Jughead and Sweet Pea while you played cards with Fangs.

“So how hard did SP grill you for the shiner?” Fangs quizzed, eying his hand of cards.

“I thought he was about to start foaming at he mouth,” You chuckled, glancing over to where he was arguing with Jug and Toni. “I wonder why he cares so much.” Fangs shrugged before glancing up at you.

“Have you ever thought about joining the Serpents?” Fangs asked.

“Yeah,” You replied, taking a sip of your soda. “But like Sweet Pea says, I’m not cut out to be in a gang.”

“It’s not like you have to be some born killer, you know. Being a Serpent isn’t like being in some cut-throat, money laundering mafia. It’s a family. You watch out for your own, and they watch out for you. You have each other’s back, and you always have a place to call home. Serpents always come through for each other, no mater what.”

You looked up at Fangs, coking your head to the side. “I guess I never thought of it that way...”

“So what do you say? Wanna join the family?

You opened your mouth, ready to accept or decline, when Sweet Pea, Toni, and Jughead joined you and Fangs.

“Hey, Babydoll. Juggy, Sweet Pea and I were just talking about something and we wanted your input,” Toni greeted, sliding into a chair beside you.

“What’s up?” You asked, setting your cards down face-down so Fangs couldn’t cheat.

“What do you think about joining the Serpents?” Jughead asked. “So that’s why Sweets looked about ready to knock you both out,” You hummed. “You still think I’m not cut out for the Serpents.”

“Pretty much,” Sweet Pea responded.

“Well, Fangs was just talking to me about it,” You started, playing with your straw.

“And?” Toni asked, eager to hear what you wanted to do.

“And...” You paused, looking up to meet Sweet Pea’s eyes. He gave a soft headshake. He looked really angry.

“What do I have to do?”

Sweet Pea was silent the entire ride back to your trailer. You dismounted the bike and turned to face Sweet Pea. Shutting off the engine, he crossed his arms and leaned back.

“Joining the Serpents? Really, Babydoll?” He asked, fixing you with a steely gaze. “Ouch. Babydoll, not Princess? I must have really pissed you off,” You chuckled nervously.

“I told you before. You are not joining the Serpents,” He commanded.

“That’s not your decision to make, Sweet Pea.” You rebuked, crossing your arms. He scowled, walking over to you. “You aren’t joining.”

“I can make my own decisions, Sweet Pea!”

“Not when your decision is to join the Serpents,” He growled. “You aren’t meant for the Serpents. They’re too dangerous.”

“You’re a Serpent yet you seem to be fine with me being around you. Stop being such a hypocritical asshole!” You snapped. Sweet Pea clenched his jaw, looking off to the side. “Fine. Don’t come whining to me when being a Serpent is too much to handle,” He snapped, stomping back to his bike.

"Sweets,” You sighed as he turned on the bike, revving the engine. You frowned, watching as he gave you one last sharp look before earing away from your house, tail lights disappearing into the dark night.

Great.

@sarasmismyonlydefence

@sweet-peas-serpents

@lady1505

#Riverdale #sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea fanfic #american sweetheart #betty cooper #veronica lodge #Archie andrews #toni topaz #fangs fogarty #fp jones #jughead jones #cheryl bombshell #alice cooper #kevin keller

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organicdietguide · 4 years

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Beginner’s Guide to Paleo | Paleo Diet Food List

What Is The Paleo Diet?

The Paleo diet is a type of primitive diet that has become widely known in recent years. It is based on the idea that humans should eat a diet consisting only of natural foods.

Sometimes, going back to your roots is what helps you stay in shape and follow a healthy lifestyle. That is the basic philosophy of the Paleo diet.

By promoting whole foods, which go through almost zero levels of processing and moderation and develop the same eating standards as that of our ancestors.

the paleo diet was designed for people to successfully lose weight by keeping away calorie ridden food groups and develop an alternative to modern lifestyle problems.

Also referred to as the ‘cavemen’s diet’, this diet plan has also been advocated to fight diseases like diabetes and heart diseases.

Studies have also suggested that following a Paleo diet can help significantly speed up the metabolic rate in the body and promote better health in the long run, thereby helping people stay fit.

Since the Paleo diet is largely restrictive and puts strong aversion to some food groups you can and cannot eat, it can get a little difficult to follow this.

However, the foods that are promoted with this diet plan are very nutritious and filling. When you survive on a diet of whole foods, you get more digestive fiber and nutrient content, thereby it helps in fighting obesity.

Paleo diet encourages you to include foods in your diet plan which are high in protein and low in carbs.

By eliminating food groups that are high on sugar and heavily processed, it helps ensure that your overall calorie intake is reduced.

If you are planning to lose weight, here is a handy guide of what to include and exclude from your diet.

WHAT TO EAT:

The diet plan believes in procuring food sources (both vegetarian and non-vegetarian) from the root.

Thus, the Paleo diet includes food items like eggs, vegetables, fruits, nuts, and seeds. Unlike other weight-loss diets, it also encourages the use of low-fat oils which are comparatively rich in anti-inflammatory omega-3 fatty acids like avocado, coconut, flaxseed, and olive oil.

WHAT NOT TO EAT:

The idea behind following a paleo diet is to cut out complex carbohydrates and gluten from your lifestyle. Hence, diet choices are very restrictive.

This is where it gets tough. While vegetables and fruits are easy to include in your diet, excluding grains, legumes, some forms of salts, and all forms of refined and artificial sugar.

Since legumes and grains were not a part of a cavemen’s diet, the usage of bread, beans, peanuts, pulses are completely excluded from the diet.

Dairy and alcohol are also largely prohibited from eating.

However, experts vary on the claims. You can also substitute dairy derived from other sources like coconut, almond milk.

Paleo diet also allows for the use of starchy veggies or high-sugar fruits only in moderation.

Tip:

While Paleo Diet helps you make substantial improvements to your lifestyle and lose weight for good, following a restrictive diet plan can also make you miss out on certain nutrients like calcium, vitamin D or even zinc.

It is best that you make a wise choice and consult a dietitian to know what is best for your body.

This does not simply mean “foods from a natural source,” because all food comes from a natural source.

The simple lifestyle shifts in the Eat Sleep Burn ugly belly fat… Melt 7 Pounds Every 7 Days

However, there is a question of how processed a particular food might be. The name of the diet tells us quite a bit.

The whole idea of this diet is to eat the kinds of things that paleolithic man would have eaten.

This rules out foods that come from a natural source, but are heavily processed. Mostly, this diet consists of meat, vegetables, nuts, and fruit. Grains of any kind are disallowed, as are dairy and processed sugar.

The History of The Paleo DietThe Paleo diet was not invented by just one person, but by a series of researchers who built their conclusions upon the work of those who came before them.

Beginner’s Guide to Paleo | Paleo Diet Food List

What Can I Eat on The Paleo Diet What Can I Eat on The Paleo Diet?

There are actually quite a few things that you can eat on the Paleo diet.

The general rule of thumb is: “If a caveman could have found it, you can eat it.” This is why processed foods like cheese and milk are not allowed. No caveman would have just found a wild block of cheese or a naturally-occurring jug of milk.

This means that pretty much all vegetables are on the menu, as well as all meats.

Eggs, nuts, and seeds are also allowed. Mushrooms are another little delicacy that you are allowed to indulge in, and fruits make an excellent substitute for high-sugar foods.

The Real Mom’s Guide

How Do You Know What Is and Isn’t Paleo?As stated before, you just look at a type of food and ask yourself if a caveman would eat it. To clarify, the term “Paleo” is short for “Paleolithic.” It refers to the Paleolithic era of human history; before we learned how to grow crops or domesticate animals.

I want you to conjure up, in your mind, an image of a caveman named Ugg. When you are considering what to eat on your Paleo diet, ask yourself: “Would Ugg Eat This?” Ugg would be suspicious of anything he wasn’t familiar with, so processed foods of any kind might send him into a rage, thinking that you were trying to poison him.

How Do You Know What Is and Isn’t PaleoWhy The Paleo Diet Works

There are several reasons why this diet works.

One of the reasons is that you are working with the body’s natural tendencies rather than working against them.

Anytime you try to force your body to do something unnatural it isn’t likely to pan out very well.

When you look at the entirety of human history, we actually spent a lot more time as hunter-gatherers than most people realize.

It is believed that 80-90% of human history was spent living a hunter-gatherer existence.

Belly Fat in Women

How The Paleo Diet WorksThe Paleo Diet works because it is a remarkably low-carb diet. While there are carbohydrates to be found in starchy vegetables like potatoes and squash, a Paleo diet is likely to be very low in carbohydrates.

Due to a large amount of bread in the modern diet, most of us consume a lot more carbs than we really need.

Carbs are concentrated energy, and you just don’t need that much on a day-to-day basis.

With fewer carbs to burn for energy, your body will turn to its next-best energy resource: Fat. For this reason, people on the Paleo diet tend to be leaner and more energetic.

Is The Paleo Diet SafeIs The Paleo Diet Safe?I think it is safe to say that this diet is very safe. Since you are eating in the way that humans are supposed to eat, I don’t see any potential for side effects.

Getting rid of sugar and processed foods certainly never hurt anyone. As for getting rid of carbs as an energy source, A person can easily make up for the lost carbs with a starchy vegetable.

Healthy Diet Plant-Based Diet

What Not to Eat on Paleo?Our bodies were never intended to handle processed, refined foods. Cutting them from your diet will seem hard initially but, after your body has detoxed from them, you will feel amazing.

Grains – Our bodies find it very hard to absorb a key protein in wheat called gluten. As a result, we develop intolerance and diseases that make us miserable. When you remove the gluten you feel great. You will also lose weight, especially the extremely dangerous visceral body fat that sits around your stomach area.

Beginner’s Guide to Paleo | Paleo Diet Food List

Sugar – Refined sugar is like a fat attraction magnet. Its main method of making your podgy is to play havoc with your insulin levels. Insulin not only drives fat cells to store more body fat, but it also prevents us from using that stored fat as energy. Refined sugars are also addiction-forming, as you may have already discovered.

Cut out all fruit juices, soft drinks, cakes, sweets, and ice cream. And don’t be fooled by those ‘low fat’ products on the shelf; they are oozing with sugar!

Dairy – They don’t make cheese and milk the way they used to – not even close. As a result, they are now far more processed and far less nutritious than in previous generations. Taking dairy from your diet will improve your waistline as well as your digestive system.

Lifestyle Changes to Improve Your Cholesterol

Margarine – Margarine is a completely nutrient-devoid product. It contains an ingredient list that simply does not belong in the human body. In fact, margarine is one ingredient of having the same profile as paint! Do yourself a favor and avoid this nasty spread at all costs.

Tea and Coffee – For many switching to the Paleo life, cutting out their early morning coffee is the hardest thing to overcome. Caffeine is a stimulant and can mask how your body is really feeling. People adhering to a Paleo life want to be as in-tune to their body as possible, so any form of stimulant is a no-no.

Secret Anabolic Recipes | Cook Healthy | Muscle Building Meals

There is no need to give up meeting friends for ‘coffee’ though. Try switching to caffeine-free herbal teas. They are delicious, come in a multitude of flavors, and are stocked at the majority of cafes and restaurants now.

Excess caffeine stimulates your adrenal glands to pump out cortisol and cortisol is a fat-storing hormone. Caffeine also disturbs your sleep, which also encourages your body to store fat. And don’t think you can simply skip over to decaf – it is loaded with chemicals, so it would pay to skip it also. If you simply must get a daily coffee fix, opt for a cup of black, organic coffee – and have it before lunch.

The paleo diet runs on the same foods our hunter-gather ancestors supposedly ate: fruits, vegetables, meats, seafood, and nuts.

The Paleo Diet. has a healthy ratio of saturated-to-unsaturated fatty acids, increases vitamin and nutrient consumption, and contains an optimal balance of protein, fat, and carbohydrates.

Best Diets Weight loss Diet plans

One small study published in the journal Diabetologia found that the diet improved blood sugar over 12 weeks compared to a Mediterranean one that allowed grains.

Foods that a person can eat on the paleo diet include:

vegetables

fruit

nuts

seeds

lean meat

fish

eggs

herbs

spices

oils that come from fruit or nuts, such as olive oil, coconut oil, and almond oil

grains, including wheat, oats, and barley

legumes, such as beans, lentils, peas, and peanuts

dairy

trans fats (hydrogenated oils)

refined sugars

artificial sweeteners

low-fat or diet products

salt

What to Drink When You’re Thirsty :

water should be your go-to beverage.

Tea: Tea is very healthy and loaded with antioxidants and various beneficial compounds. Green tea is best.

Coffee: Coffee is actually very high in antioxidants as well.

Breastfeeding super foods

Nutritional Needs During Pregnancy

Health and Pregnancy

Pregnancy Tips on Health, Your Body

Preparing for A BabyWeight Loss Tips

Diet Guides

#Breast feeding diet health woman mother pregnancy weight loss women

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bughead-ficz · 7 years

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Don’t Touch Her// Bughead Fanfiction (C7)

Chapter 7- Unscratched Itches

Okay I know this chapter is long overdue, I've had a busy week, but thank you guys for staying with the story💖 I really appreciate all your lovely comments😚

I feel like this chapter was kind of boring? Maybe because this kind of stuff doesn't really interest me? Or because it's quite short and I sort of rushed it for you all? But I hope you guys find it okay, it’s sort of a filler chapter. Trust me, I'll try harder to make it better for future chapters

☾ ☾ ☾

The first thing she saw was a bright, white light. The scent of rubber gloves and alcohol invaded her sense of smell whilst her eyelids cracked open. A beeping sound droned continuously into her sensitive ears. She seemed to be consumed by tiredness, but the searing hot pain consumed her more so.

It seemed as if her whole body was being pinned down into the mattress of the hospital bed. One section of her body, however, seemed to feel heaviest.

With great struggle, Betty willed her eyes fully open so they could focus on the blurry surroundings. She looked towards the concentrated weight and immediately saw Jughead. He sat on a blue chair, with his hand engulfing her own and his head resting on the bed, next to her legs.

In this moment, everything was emotionally peaceful. She even found herself smiling slightly at the soft boy next to her. But that was only for a moment. The smile melted off as soon as she remembered small memories of what had occurred.

Visions of Nick, Al and Chuck invaded her mind. She remembered the colour red. It symbolised the aggression rather than romantic aspects, and the blood. All the blood.

Betty remembered the blue and red sirens, but she was in too much pain at the time to focus on what was happening around her.

A deep sadness overwhelmed her form as she recalled Jughead. He had come to save her. He'd promised to protect her, however, he didn't. She didn't hold that against him though, but she knew he would. He'd blame himself for what happened, and it would break her heart.

She remembered his bruised face, and how it watched Nick and Al do those things to her. How his eyes pleaded towards them in anger and desperation. And how they just laughed at him and continued.

The memories were mostly a blur right now, but they'd soon develop and worsen.

She felt a cold tear slip down her hot, now pale face; Things may never be the same again.

Betty sniffed melancholily and Jughead's head shot up. She quickly wiped her tear, but not before Jughead saw. She smiled sadly.

"Hey," her voice was quiet but flowed out clearer than she'd expected. Her throat wasn't raspy and it didn't croak.

"Betts... I-I" Jughead hesitated, as if he was deciding which words to use. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault." Tears began to gather in his solemn eyes as they looked down in shame and despair.

Betty immediately shook her head as fiercely as she could without it hurting too much. "Don't do that, Jug. It wasn't your fault. It was-" she paused, "them."

Jughead's face didn't change. The expression remained guilty and disappointed on his bruised complexion.

Betty focused on his face. He had bruises from when Al had punched him after Jughead had tried to help her, everything had just kept going downhill. He had a purple bruised eye and a busted lip, along with a small plaster on his soft left cheek. His injuries were nothing compared to Betty's.

Betty noticed herself in the mirror nearby. She possessed a bruised eye and busted lip like Jughead did, but the bruise was much bigger and blacker, and the lip, more sore and bloody. On her neck were yellowy-purple finger-shaped bruises from when she'd been grabbed by Nick and Al multiple times. Additionally, there were multiple giant, violet bruises on her stomach and overall body, but she couldn't see those just yet.

She swallowed. Betty had always been empathetic, compassionate and selfish, no matter the circumstances. In this moment in time her boyfriend needed her. Jughead needed her. So she completely disregarded her wellbeing for those moments and focused on the saddened beanie-less boy.

"Listen to me." She squeezed his hand lovingly, deciding reaching up and cupping his face with her other one would probably trigger pain for both of them. "I remember it now, and there was nothing you could have done. There was too many of them." He didn't meet her eyes.

"Look at me, Juggie." She whispered, causing him to hesitantly meet her eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

"But none of it would have happened if I had just listened to you and not got those Serpents to fight them. And if I hadn't-" Betty cut him off before he could say the second part. His secret. He would be thankful for that later, but after he would regret it, and tears would be shed. But that's an event for a different time. This is now. And Betty was having none of it.

"No Jughead! The Serpents would have somehow found out about what Chuck did in those woods anyway, and they would have tried to help without you even asking. This is because of Chuck and Nick and Al." She visibly cringed when she said their names, but she spoke with great determination and honesty.

Jughead marvelled at her. The amount of pain she was in, the ordeal she had gone through and the physical and emotional scarring they could potentially leave didn't stop her from trying to comfort him. This made a tear slip down his face, but it wasn't necessarily sadness.

He supplied a small smile to the blonde, bruised but still insanely beautiful girl, and she returned it. She was so brave. But she didn't fully understand what he had done yet. Jughead still blamed himself because of what he did, and she didn't know what that was exactly. Riskily, he decided to attempt to keep it that way.

"So, what actually happened?" Betty quietly asked Jughead in a timid voice, diversely different from the calming one she'd used moments ago. "Before I passed out... how did we get here?"

"Reggie." Jughead sighed and the injured Cooper girl raised her eyebrows in shock. "Turns out he wasn't being a coward when he walked away, he'd gone to get the Sheriff. The police came and the guys ran off. We came here by ambulance, and you were unconscious. I thought you weren't gonna wake up."

His eyes became glazed donuts with the tears that threatened to escape. "You'd coughed up so much blood, and the ambulance guy kept on going on about losing you after the heat monitor started beeping really fast."

"Hey," she gripped his hand firmly again, "I'm not going anywhere." Betts used her thumb to wipe away his tears, taking care to avoid his sore spots.

"Yeah well I thought you were. I've been going out of my mind these past days." He grumbled.

"Days?" Betty's eyes widened, she thought she'd only been unconscious for a few hours.

"Two days, that's all." He quickly spurted before she went into panic mode. "But two days are long when you have to sit by the girl you love and wait for her to wake up, which might not have even happened."

"I love you too Juggie." Jughead smiled with tears in his eyes at the bruised beauty. He had never imagined he could fall in love this hard. Nothing this good should have ever happened to him. But he wasn't complaining.

Suddenly, the door opened, breaking the love-sick teenagers out of their trance. In walked a blonde woman dressed in a light, bluey-green hospital uniform. She wore a small smile on her pale, pink face as she looked towards Betty, she looked oddly familiar.

"Hey sweetheart," Betty should have felt a bit awkward as she referred to her like someone would a child, but something about the woman seemed warm and comforting. "You certainly gave us all a fright." She peered at the beeping machine and proceeded to jot things down onto her clipboard. "I need to ask you a few questions..." she wandered off, gesturing towards Jughead.

Jughead looked like he was going to protest when he processed why the nurse had gestured, but Betty hurriedly spoke up. "It's okay Jug, can you go get me some food or something please?" She politely asked. He hesitated but then nodded discreetly and headed out of the door, giving her one last worried glance.

"So unfortunately you have quite a few injuries. You have two broken ribs, some obvious bruising and internal bleeding. You were unconscious for two days because of your injuries, it was your body shutting down due to all the pain you were going through. Like a defence mechanism."

Betty tried listening to the rubber-smelling nurse but the words seemed to go right through her as pictures of the vile men went through her mind. Would she have to see the boys at school? Would everyone at school know? Of course they'd know; her uncountable bruises would be an unstoppable tell-tale.

"Betty?" The woman's soft voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Betty shook her head, as if she was trying to physically shake the thoughts out.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" She asked awkwardly.

The nurse didn't seemed phased or annoyed, in fact, her face gleamed with understanding.

"I was saying that your boyfriend seems nice." This made Betty smile, this nurse had no idea how nice Jughead was. He was positively incredible.

"Yeah," a warm glow lit her face up, "he is." She whispered. And then she was crying. Silent tears poured from his glassy eyeballs as her mood changed drastically.

"Are you okay sweetie?" The nurse cast a sad expression and places her soft hand over Betty's fragile one, as to not cause any pain to the blonde. In fact, this comforted Betty massively.

"I'm okay, sorry." She sniffed timidly and the nurse handed her a white tissue. "Thanks, Nurse-" she stopped and looked at her name tag, "-Taylor."

Nurse Taylor chuckled and squeezed Betty's hand, "call me Jo."

"Thanks Jo." Betty giggled back, but after a moment she stopped. "So what questions did you need to ask?"

The two spoke medically for a while until Jughead arrived back with some red and green jelly for himself and Betty.

"We want to keep you in for a few more days but when we've done all of the tests, you'll probably be free to go." Jo grinned down at the blonde-haired girl with a grin. Betty thanked her and watched intently as she scurried from the room. She seemed so familiar. But why?

"What tests?" Jughead questioned, raising an eyebrow and passing the green, apple jelly towards her.

Betty laughed anxiously, propping herself painfully further up with her bruised elbows and taking the fruit-flavoured dessert from him. "Just, you know, the usual ones. I can't really remember all the ones she listed."

Jughead nodded, ignorant to her lie. She couldn't tell him what the test was for, she just couldn't.

They both held secrets. But which one would be discovered first?

#bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #bughead #betty x jughead #jughead x betty #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #protective jughead #don't touch her

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h-eckers · 7 years

Text

Shed Your Skin

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

A/N: I am shamelessly in love with this story line, even though the writing may not be perfect and I’m really nervous about it. There is a part 2 already posted. This was always designed specifically to be multi-part, I’ll explain that more in the note on part 2. No spoilers.

P. S. This isn’t a Bughead fic by any means so I didn’t tag it as such (I’m sorry, guys), but the pairing is included in part

Summary: Being a newly inducted Serpent comes with unforseen benefits for Riverdale’s most poetic soul, like cool jackets and … personal bodyguards???

Word Count: 3,226

Warnings: gang activity, swearing, drug mentions, (Bughead angst, if that counts as a warning.)

Serpent sympathizers.

That’s what the Southside called them, and it applied to those in the area who weren’t Serpents themselves. These were the people who had no problem inhabiting the same space as a notorious gang, some had ties or dealings to members, others simply chose to approve because it did nothing to bother them. What turned out to be an unexpected blessing to Riverdale’s resident writer, was the family he was placed with on the Southside were exactly that, a family who openly referred to themselves as “friends of the Serpents.” When Jughead had confessed his connection to the gang, mentioning his father’s home left empty, the family under whose care he stayed simply allowed him to do what he pleased as long as he kept them out of it. In mere moments he had gained a freedom he was unused to, and yet one that so deeply comforted him.

This freedom is precisely what led Jughead to be sitting on the couch in his father’s currently abandoned home, aimlessly flicking through channels to find a suitable background noise for his writing. After all, there was much to update in his book, many a mystery solved and waiting to be immortalized with words against a page. The night was cold, but the sanctity of familiar walls, and the old heater in the corner, coated with dust, provided a gentle and welcoming warmth as well as an obvious fire hazard. The light from the kitchen twisted and stretched itself, struggling to illuminate much past the room it was in, only lending a soft and muted glow to the living room where the young writer had found comfort, lost in his own words, alone in his home for the first time in years that felt like centuries. For a moment, he felt peace.

The problem with the current state of Riverdale, however, meant that peace was short lived, and Jughead’s serenity was destroyed with a loud and repetitive banging on the front door in place of a polite knock. He stopped for a moment, contemplating whether he should answer it or leave it and let them believe there was no one here, he decided on the later. Even from their aggression towards his front door he could tell it wasn’t a person he’d enjoy speaking to and right now, he was comfortable in being alone. So he didn’t move from where he was, letting the demanding pounding on his front door die down, hoping to fade back into contentment, but again his wish for that was completely shattered when he heard the unmistakable sound of a key being put into the lock. Standing quickly, he turned to the door expecting the only person he could think of who would have keys apart from himself, when his eyes met that of the newly arrived body, just through the door, he sighed a heavy sigh.

“Hey, dude.” The unfamiliar girl smiled, shutting the door and shoving her keys back inside the pocket of her dark jeans, “I figured you might be here.”

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Jughead stumbled slightly, still caught up in the shock of the intrusion of a stranger.

“Nah, not yet, but I’m Y/N.” She grinned, holding out her hand for him, Jughead hesitated upon seeing the dirt and grease there. She chuckled, retracting her hand to wipe it against her leg, avoiding the leather on her jacket “Oh, shit, sorry, I was working on the bikes right before I came out here.”

“I’m Jughead…” His voice was strong, and yet carried a clear tone of caution, which one would expect in a situation such as this one, “and why are you here?”

“I know who you are, dude, your daddy talks about you all the time, I’ve seen you around. He actually gave me the keys to this place when I went to see him today… well, he asked the sheriff to give me the keys, same thing though really.” She explained causally, shrugging off the question and wandering into the kitchen as though the home was hers.

“Why?” Jughead asked, already growing impatient with her, perhaps because of her demeanour or maybe it was the fact that she seemed to know more about the situation with his father than he did. She walked over to the sink and started cleaning her hands, scrubbing the grease away with the dish soap left neglected on the counter, his eyes followed her, staring at her back when she turned to the sink, only then did he notice the Serpent embroidery across the back of her jacket, hold against the black and a perfect explanation of how she was acted.

“Us Serpents aren’t exactly the favourites right now, there’s been target attacks on us now and I’m here to house sit for the boss kinda, mainly I’m here because he said you would be.” Y/N shrugged, looking around for a clean dish towel and shuffling through drawers until she found something to dry her hands. “You’re one of us now, right? We look out for our own.”

There was a silence that crept up there, as Jughead’s eyes drifted back to the jacket they’d given him, sling over the back of a chair, on display. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” He admitted absently, his eyes moving back to hers, immediately he saw the worry on her face, as though she was looking at a child lost in a store, with no sense of direction.

“It’s no problem,” she said quickly, noticing the hesitance in him and offering her most gentle smile, “even if you decide you don’t want to be, your daddy’s for you a life time pass to protection.”

He didn’t say anything, there wasn’t much to say. In all honesty, he had no doubt that she could protect him, She was scruffy, not the cleanest but he could only assume that was the fault of working under old bikes before she arrived, and there were tattoos showing from under the cuffs of her jacket even though she looked about his age, but her eyes made her seem older, there was no doubt she had seen things, things that age a person, things that change them. “Look, uhm, I know it’s bit weird but do you mind if I shower real quick?”

“Yeah, yeah, just through there.” He mumbled, pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

“I know.” She smiled again, partially awkwardly but overall it seemed apologetic, she scurried away to get clean.

It was an unsettling feeling, despite everything, Jughead had always been resolute in how he felt. He knew what he wanted without a doubt at any time and yet he sat across the room, staring at the jacket he was gifted, thinking back to his short experience at South side high, and thinking about Betty, and Archie, and all he’d left in Riverdale and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was completely unsure.

The truth was, the Serpents we’re beginning to look better and better as an option for him, they had welcomed him with open arms like no one ever had, despite how different he’d assume himself from them. This girl, though abrasive, seemed kind and open, she hadn’t tried to lie to him, and she’d accepted him readily as though they’d known each other for years, a nicer treatment than he’d received from some of his closest friends in the recent past. It was a battle raging in his head between what seemed right and what felt right, and at the moment the feeling was what he was chasing.

The thoughts he had found himself consumed by all vanished at one with a gentle hand on his shoulder, he looked up at her, fresh faced, wet hair tousled about her cheeks in wild waves, and she was wearing one of his dads old shirts tucked into her jeans. “You alright? I came out like fifteen minutes ago and you’ve just been staring at that jacket.”

“Thinking.” He said with a tight smile, watching as she retracted her hand and pulled on her jacket again, falling onto the couch with a soft ‘oomph’.

“Y'know, you don’t have to make up your mind straight away. It’s okay.” Her smile was genuine, gentle and purposeful, and he believed her entirely.

“You’re not really what I expected, considering you’re a member of a notorious gang.” He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. She raised her eyebrow at his sudden attitude change, but chose not to question it yet for fear of scaring it away.

“What?” She grinned, “Dirty, scruffy, bike mechanic who almost busts down the door before using the key doesn’t work for you?” She mumbled, grabbing a cushion and hugging it to her stomach. There was something endearing about her, she was honest, and for so long living in a town with so many lies, and where everyone seemed to try to be someone they weren’t, it was refreshing to say the least.

“I guess you have a point, but in any case it suits you.” He said, her cheeks burned slightly and she couldn’t help the small smile that decorated her lips for a moment as she tilted her head, never breaking eye contact with him.

“Your dad told me about how charming you were, said we’d get along. Even once said he thought we’d do good for each other.” She hummed softly, and he nodded, “You’ve definitely charmed me, Jug. I hope he was right about the rest of it.”

“I think he could have been.” Jug admitted, and perhaps it was too soon to say such a thing but it wasn’t as though it was a lie.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, when there was a knock at the door again. A normal knock this time as opposed to the vicious barrage against the door the girl in front of him had inflicted not long ago. Jughead looked to her for an answer and she simply shrugged, “We don’t knock like that.” She smirked and he could only laugh as he got up to answer the door.

“Hey, Juggie, you didn’t answer any of my texts. I figured I’d come and check you were okay.” Her voice was already laced with worry, or anger, or possibly a cocktail of the two as she looked up at him. Jughead cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I guess I just got distracted.” He sighed, smiling for her and a small smile is what he got in return, “I am sorry, you know I wouldn’t ignore you intentionally.”

“I know, I was just worried, especially when I called your host parents and they said you weren’t there.” The concern was clear, he felt it in his soul and immediately felt the guilt that came with knowing he’d upset her. “I figured you’d be here.”

“Uh, do you want to come in?” He asked after a moment, things seemed tense, he’d been living on the south Side for just under a week now and he’d seen or spoken to her every single day but the way they interacted had changed. Things seemed stilted when they spoke, their kisses grew more chaste and empty, and he was aware that it was all him. She hadn’t changed but in the space of a few days, he had, in ways he hadn’t even fully realised for himself yet.

“Of course.” She smiled softly, moving carefully past him to wander inside, all of a sudden a fabricated image of Y/N flashed up in his mind, of her shoving past him ungracefully to get inside. For some reason, that made him grin.

Y/N had become entirely absorbed in a late night re-run of Friends, focusing on the show as a way to tune out the conversation she wasn’t a part of, when Betty wandered in and saw her, she stopped, confused. After a moment of being ignored by the freshly showered girl on her boyfriend’s couch, Betty cleared her throat, as politely as possible given the situation. Her attention was pulled away from the screen and towards the blonde in the living room. “Oh, hi!” She said happily, muting the TV to give the newly arrived guest her full attention, Betty wasn’t in the same place. She turned to Jughead.

“Who’s this?” She asked, completely ignoring the girl herself. Y/N didn’t appreciate that.

“My name is Y/N, and I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself.” Her expression and tone didn’t change from that energetic excitement, and yet there was something different, something sarcastic, something threatening slipping out with her words. Betty blinked at her, eyes going wide.

“Sorry,” She stammered slightly, “I’m Betty.” The other girls face lit up again immediately.

“Oh! You wrote that article about us right?” Y/N queried, “Thanks for that, sucks to hear what they did to your locker though, m’sure we’ll get ‘em soon enough though. You don’t have to worry for much longer.” She winked playfully, somehow making the incredibly ominous statement seem light hearted.

“You’re a serpent.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it something Betty appreciated apparently, she turned back to Jughead. “You know you can stay at my house if you need to, Jug.”

“I know, but it’s okay here.” He chuckled, as the blonde rested her hand on his arm, concern written across her face, “Really, everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, I’m just housesitting, body guarding.” Y/N tried to joke, perhaps ease some of the awkwardness she felt, it didn’t work, especially when Betty ignored her.

“Jug…” She said softly, like urging. Pushing him to say something else, to leave with her.

“Betty, every thing’s under control.” He said again, his brow furrowing.

“Okay,” She said tightly, obviously unimpressed with the decision, “well can I at least get that Blue and Gold stuff from you?”

“Of course. It’s in my room.” He mumbled, looking towards Y/N for a second, an indiscernible look in his eyes, trying to convey something Y/N couldn’t decipher, but whatever it was, it was near to worry. He turned his back hesitantly and walked into the next room. Y/N smiled.

“Yeah, so I’m just here to house sit while FP’s otherwise occupi-” She was cut off, Betty’s voice, low and quiet intersecting with her light-hearted attempt to make conversation.

“He’s not one of you. He belongs in Riverdale, with his friends.” Betty dragged out the last word, as though rubbing in some scathing insult like Y/N had been Jughead’s friend for ten years and not ten minutes. Y/N’s expression dropped slightly, not into anger but into a certain smugness, a serpentine smirk painting her soft lips.

“I think that’s for him to decide, don’t you?” She asked, that threat in her voice simultaneously drawing Betty to respond and urging her to run.

“He has decided.” She said, her strength of composure never wavering externally, though inside her heart quaked with an uncertainness. Y/N stepped forward menacingly, only an inch taller than the other girl and yet towering above her head.

“Maybe he has, but I don’t know if it’s what you think.” Y/N hummed, her tone close to sultry though it was only meant to scare the blonde girl before her, and it did, oh it did. “After all, you may have written a cute little article for his daddy, but I’ve been riding with FP since I was knee high. You could write a full trilogy and id still win by miles, sweetness.” She spat, her words dripping with venom that only a serpent could produce.

“That doesn’t matter,” Betty swallowed, a darkness coming into her eyes that made Y/N grin as the other’ hands clenched, nails to palm in violent collision, “you don’t get to win that easily. FP and Jughead are different people.”

“True,” Y/N shrugged, stepping back, “but who says they can’t grow to be closer. Bond over a pool table at the Whyte Wyrm?”

“Jughead would never. That’s not who he is.” Betty practically growled, only eliciting a chuckle from the other girl who simply fell back onto the couch, staring Betty down with narrowed eyes.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that snakes shed their old skin, princess?” She smiled. Betty opened her mouth to speak, interrupted only seconds before implosion by Jughead re-entering the room. The tension hit him like a truck, and he saw his girlfriend clutching her own hands, glaring at the other girl on his couch who had gone back to watching the TV as though nothing had transpired.

“Is everything okay?” HE asked, hesitant as to the response, Y/N didn’t respond, Betty turned to him with eyes aflame.

“I need to talk to you,” She growled softly, “alone.”

Jughead followed her outside. Y/N stayed put and listened, muting the TV again and sitting back on the couch to listen to the blondes hysterics, smirking to herself at Betty’s colourful description of her, terrible words falling from her innocent lips in vitriol of the she serpent. None of her words caused any injury, it’s not as though she hadn’t been called worse before, never though, had it been this entertaining. She listened to them argue for what felt like hours, noticing Jughead’s words in her defence despite their recent meeting, the argument had turned from her quickly though, to the decision Jughead was to make about his future, about where he was to belong. Eventually their voices faded into non-existence, with tense endings, she listened to Betty leave and waited while Jughead stayed outside for a few moments, gathering his thoughts she could only assume. During that time, she raised the volume on the TV again, though her attention stayed singularly on him.

When the door opened and he walked back into the room, Y/N said nothing. He said nothing. At first the two of them stayed locked in a mutual silence as he sat and rubbed his face, the frustration fading with each long breath he took. “She doesn’t like me.” Y/N finally spoke up, though her eyes stayed on the screen.

“I know.” He sighed, leaning back in the chair he sat in, though his eyes raked her form though searching for something he needed to find, as though she wore the answer on her body and maybe she did. Y/N rose from her seat, rolling her shoulders and grabbing the jacket they’d gifted Jughead from the back of the chair it laid on, walking over to him and holding it out to him in offer.

“It’s still yours if you want it.” She said seriously, there was something in her eyes he trusted and even more there that he was terrified of.

“I could lose her.” He said, as though asking for something. Some clarification or answer of the million questions racing through his mind at full speed.

“I’m not forcing you.”

There was a moment of quiet, and he stood to face her, stepping forward and grabbing the jacket still in her hands and they stayed for a moment, with locked eyes in wait, and locked fingers on leather. “We’re together?” he asked, and she knew exactly what he meant, it wasn’t about the two of them. It was about a family, about stepping into a world he knew nothing of.

“Ride or die, Jones.”

And he took it.

And he put it on.

And everything changed.

Jughead tags: @princessjughead @unicornqueen05 @andforthecoating @mrs-fangirl @aselfishllama

Everything tags: @gryffndor @itsjaynebird @vanessa-sanch-blog @lost-in-wonderland-x @annoyingsibling @bex09

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale fic #jughead #jughead fic #jughead imagine #jughead jones #jughead jones fic #jughead jones imagine #jughead x reader #jughead jones x reader #serpent!jughead #serpent!jughead x reader #serpent!jughead imagine #serpent!jughead fic

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onceuponamirror · 7 years

Text

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 7

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale ship: betty x jughead words: 30k chapters: 7/19

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

But time makes you bolder Even children get older

On Sunday morning, Jughead wakes up with a sunburn.

It’s his own damn fault; in the rush to appease the wide-eyed beseeching of Betty and the subsequent distractions of her overall presence, he hadn’t thought about sun protection until late into the afternoon and the damage had already been done.

A part of him whispers: worth it, but a smarter, far more logical side reminds him he could’ve enjoyed Betty’s company while still applying sunscreen. Alas.

But at least most of the burn is not on his face, and rather his chest, which he’s fairly certain hasn’t seen the light of day in years and probably won’t again for some time. Luckily, for someone with such vampiric tendencies, he manages to tan fairly well, so while it will never be quite as attractive as Betty’s golden glow, it should settle into an olive tone soon.

He stands in front of the motel bathroom mirror and slaps water onto his face, because now his mind is back to conjuring images of Betty strewn out beside him, her hair tangled and loose around her shoulders, and it’s been driving him mad since before bed last night.

It’s bad enough he’s got words like sun-kissed floating around in his thoughts, further destroying any credibility he has left with himself; he doesn’t need to be further tormented of memories of her in that fucking white swimsuit.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters, as it happens again. He points at himself in the mirror, and says, flatly, “No.”

Jughead can accept that what he feels is attraction, can acknowledge he has the evidence of that literally burned onto his fucking skin, but that doesn’t mean he gets to torture himself any more than usual. No, what he needs is a day spent in the company of his best friend, a big cup of coffee, followed by a second one, and absolutely zero time with Betty.

He’s already tried the cold shower.

Anyway, given that it’s a Sunday, he doesn’t have the usual excuse to hang around her, as she won’t be at the garage and he hasn’t been allowed any opportunity to invite himself along anywhere else. It’s probably for the best.

He gives his reflection one more warning jab of the finger and then goes to dress. He hesitates with the suspenders, after Betty’s little dig about them, but then feels silly for it. Even if he does have something of a crush, he’s not about to change his entire ethos (carefully crafted down to the fit of his jeans) in the course of one week.

Besides, he’s fairly sure she was just teasing him. Or he hopes so, because he knows it speaks to his tumultuous childhood that he still wears so many layers all at once, ready to sleep wherever he may need, change clothes without arousing suspicion. Like his habit with frugality, it’s hard to kick, even in adulthood.

He throws on an old, cozy t-shirt, ties a flannel around his waist, piles anything he needs for a burst of inspiration into his messenger bag, and then heads for Archie’s room.

“Ready for breakfast?” He asks, when the door swings open.

“Yeah,” Archie says, even though he’s not at all dressed. “Just gimme like, one minute.”

Jughead wanders into the room while Archie rushes around, throwing clothes onto the bed. “Just in case I don’t have time to change before my date tonight,” he explains when Jughead raises an eyebrow. He’s known Archie to wear his sneakers to a wedding and not bat an eyelash, so he’s not quite sure what to do with this flustered version of his best friend.

“You really like this girl, huh?” He says, watching Archie narrow down his choices to two shirts.

“A lot,” Archie breathes, settling on the nicer one, a soft blue button up. “Alright, let’s go.”

They head out and make the short walk to Pop’s. At this point, Jughead has taken nearly all his meals at the diner, so when he’s greeted by name by the owner and a passing waitress, he just has to shrug listlessly under Archie’s curious look.

“I like the food here,” he says simply.

The two of them settle into a booth, drop their orders, and receive their coffees. Once their server is gone, Archie clears his throat. “So…” He begins, obviously with an attempt at prompting.

“Don’t start,” Jughead replies with a groan. He’s just started to enjoy his coffee and the last thing he wants is to regress into some moonish idiot again. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

Archie’s forehead wrinkles. “’Her’? Who is ‘her’? I was just going to ask you about how your book is coming. Wait…are you talking about Betty?”

“Aw, fuck,” Jughead mutters, cradling his head in his hands. “Never mind, forget I said anything.”

“Nu-uh, you went there, so let’s talk about it.” Across the table, Archie chuckles and starts to count on his fingers. “First, you invite her and her friends to hang out with us, which…like, I’m definitely not complaining, since one of those friends is Veronica. But when have you ever done that? Then, the fact that she got you swimming? I can’t remember the last time I saw you swim.”

“I swim,” he says defensively. “We were literally at the beach last week.”

“Yeah, and you just stood there with your feet in the water. And yesterday you guys were acting all…like you knew her. I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Jughead takes a stalling sip of coffee. “I asked her to teach me how to fix the truck, okay? Just because I wanted to learn for myself so I could take care of it later on. That’s it. There’s no Machiavellian subplot going on, so stop acting like I’ve been body-snatched.”

“So you’ve been what, hanging out at her garage?”

He bites at the inside of his mouth. “Well, yeah.”

“This whole time?” Archie asks, his eyes bulging.

“No,” Jughead snaps brusquely. “I mean, Jesus, we’ve only been here for like, five days. I’ve been writing, mostly. Just…also spending some time at the garage. For educational purposes.”

Archie stares at him, and then bursts out laughing. “Alright, now I get all those little looks she gave you yesterday,” he says, shaking his head. Jughead glowers at him, though more frustrated with the fact that he has the adamant desire to shake Archie and beg him to explain what he means by little looks.

(Something else to torture himself with, undoubtedly.)

“Educational purposes,” Jughead repeats darkly. Maybe if he says it enough, he’ll believe it.

“Nah, you like her,” Archie says, after a moment of deduction. “I’ve known you my whole life, bro, you can’t pull that shit with me.”

Jughead wrestles with how to deny it with any stronger language to make Archie back off, but then deflates and sighs, losing the will to argue. “It doesn’t change anything.”

And that is the truth. He can admit to Archie, he can admit it to himself, but neither of these actions will have any sort of effect on the outcome. In less than three weeks time, he will be piling into his truck, driving to Chicago, and then heading back to Boston with his sister to resume a normal, Betty-free life.

He’s self-loathing, but even Jughead isn’t sure he’s that self-loathing as to let himself get in any deeper with a woman he’ll never see again. It’s already bad enough that whatever benign little crush he’d felt for her before yesterday has been replaced by a magnified appreciation for the way she’d looked next to him, tousled by the river and tanned and soft-eyed, and—this is just after one day at the beach. He’s more than a little afraid to find out what else his imagination is capable of.

Archie looks confused. “What do you mean, it doesn’t change anything? I’m seeing Ronnie, and we’re in the same situation. Doesn’t stop us from having fun.”

Jughead sighs, and crosses his arms onto the table. “I’m not you, Archie. I don’t do casual very well. Go big or go home, right? Well even if I go big, I still have to go home to Boston. We live in different states, Arch. What, am I supposed to ask her out and then we go on a few dates and then we’re long distance for however long we can convince ourselves it’s a good idea? I mean, think about it.”

“You’re already planning a long distance relationship? You haven’t even been on one date,” Archie points out, raising his eyebrows.

Jughead groans. “I just mean—what’s the endgame here? What’s the point?”

“To get laid?” Archie suggests plainly, his hands in the air. “To have a connection with someone? To get to know somebody? To open up?”

“Yeah, because I’m so well known for all of those things. And—anyway, you’re making a dangerous assumption that she’s even interested,” Jughead reminds him, downing the rest of his coffee and slumping in his seat.

“I think that’s a pretty safe bet,” Archie says slowly, and then looks painfully amused at how quickly Jughead’s head jerks back up.

“What, that she’s interested? Come on, I’m trying to be realistic here,” Jughead says, scrubbing a hand across his face. “You’ve seen her. She’s way out of my league, pal.”

The look he gives Jughead borders on outright pity, which he decides is far worse than smug. “Maybe, but you’re really over-thinking this. Just…try not to think so much and go ask her out.”

Coming from someone who Jughead has witnessed jumping into far too many situations without consideration and getting in way over his head, this advice does little for comfort. “Well, I’m a writer, all I do is think, write, and mope, and over-think some more.”

Archie sighs. “Alright, look. I know you, Jug, so I won’t push you on it, because that won’t help. But, I’ll just say this: better to have loved and lost than not loved at all, right?”

He stares across the table. “How is it you can quote Tennyson at me but still don’t know who Stevie Nicks is?” Jughead moans, hiding his face in his hands.

“I know who he is,” Archie scoffs, which only proves Jughead’s point. He groans again, but this time it’s because his eyes have been closed too long and he’s attacked by visions of Betty swimming in circles around him, moving in the water like a mermaid luring a sailor to death.

When he brings his head out of his hands, Archie is watching him with understanding eyes.

“It’s why it’s called a crush,” Archie offers, shrugging. “It sucks.”

But Jughead is thinking about the river, and how he was too worried to swim out to where the water turned too dark to see the bottom; all that latent symbolism is finally catching up to him. But, still.

Should something happen on the way out, not knowing if he was able to touch down just wasn’t worth the risk.

Jughead’s solution is true to form.

Rather than follow a lick of Archie’s advice, Jughead doubles down on his theory that no good will come of allowing himself to spend more time with Betty. While his best friend barrels on full steam ahead with Veronica, starting to see her practically every night, Jughead retreats further and further into his hotel room.

He even gets invited to go to dinner and dancing with Archie and Veronica and, wink, dude, Betty will probably be there, but he ignores the text until late and then sends a weak reply of sorry, didn’t see this till now.

Perhaps it’s his old friend Abandonment Issues rearing its ugly head again, but he decides that the more he sees her, the more he likes her, which won’t do. When he follows that train of thought, the more drawn to her he is, the more occupied his thoughts are with a very simple desire.

And that scares the shit out of him.

Because no matter how many times he circles back to it, there’s no way for him to walk away from this without becoming more miserable than he was already. He’s just not Archie; he’s always been all or nothing. He can’t casually date someone, nor can he wrap his head around the idea of not thinking ahead.

He’s already afraid of a good thing, but what happens when that good thing has no good ending? It’s not star-crossed, it’s not romantic; it’s just impractical.

So he throws himself into his writing, and luckily, it welcomes him with open arms.

That is, until it doesn’t. His outline takes shape, his characters find their moxie—and then he hits a snag four chapters later, around the same time that his character gets his first real lead and starts to work with the police. Namely, his love interest. He deletes, rewrites, sacrifices whole scenes—even the ones with the bit of dialogue he really liked—but he can’t seem to shake the indecision that has begun bleeding through.

If he thought about it any harder, if he even just squinted at it, he probably wouldn’t be able to deny the resemblances between his character’s issues and his own. Which is exactly why he chooses not to analyze such realities—though at least Jughead doesn’t have a fresh dead body on his hands.

Still, he is just as plagued by the sad, sharp eyes of the blonde riddle in his book—and every time he tries to fix it, or grow their relationship realistically, he ends up wanting to throw his computer across the room.

This is junior year of college all over again, only much worse. But if he’s not thinking about solutions for his love arc, he’s thinking about book reviews and his publisher wanting a book tour for the sequel, and the inherent pressure of a follow up novel, and comments online, and even the film rights speculation floating around on Reddit—a far-fetched rumor if he’s ever heard one. Even if there’s something to it, he’s sure he’ll be last to know, and can kiss it goodbye once his sequel hits the stands and tanks as much as he expects it to.

On Thursday morning, he sends off his latest frustration to his editor, hoping she has some thoughts for him, and decides to go buy some snacks. He’s been trying to write in his room lately, but he’s already sick of vending machine candy and he needs a new toothpaste anyway, so he walks to the grocery store, scowling the whole way.

He throws a range of essentials into his basket, and then, hearing JB’s voice in his thoughts, decides to also grab a bit of fruit, lest he fall prey to the supposedly inevitable case of scurvy she’s always hocking him about.

Jughead heads to the drink aisle, and then, with his hands full of soda, nearly barrels into someone turning away from the opposite wine section. “Fuck,” he mutters, as a bottle slips from his hands. He drops down to grab it, but it rolls out and hits the foot of the woman he almost walked into. He glances back up, and is completely unprepared for it to Betty.

She squats down to his level, grinning. “On a health kick, I see,” she says, reaching the bottle of soda first. She picks it up and hands it to him, which he takes after a moment.

“Yeah well, the name Jughead Jones is synonymous with Whole Foods,” he mumbles, straightening. “Thanks. And, uh, sorry for almost running you over.”

“Something a girl always dreams of hearing,” she laughs.

Her hair is down again, and she brushes a smoothing hand against it as his eyes run over her wavy tresses. She looks nice—well, she always looks nice, but today she looks nicer than usual. Maybe it’s the way her hair falls along her neck, or the swishy pink skirt, or the black short sleeve button up, or maybe it’s just because she’s still smiling at him and he’s just too far gone to see past it.

She adjusts the bottle of wine cradled in her arms. “So,” they say at the same time. There’s a fumbling and awkward amount of pausing while they both ask the other to go first, but eventually she tries again.

“So, how have you been? Haven’t seen you in a few days. You missed a fun night of Archie and Veronica’s basically undressing each other on the dance floor, by the way. Never again am I third wheeling.”

He chuckles, cringing at the thought. “Great, now I’m going to have to absolve my eyes of that mental image, so thanks for that. I’m not sorry I missed that, but I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I just got bit by the writing bug,” he offers by way of explanation.

“And here I thought you were avoiding me,” she says, with something like a nervous grin. “Or got sick of me, maybe.”

“Impossible,” he sighs, and it’s true, even though he has been avoiding her. A pang of guilt hits him, hard; it hurts to hear that she’d thought his opinion her was anything less than glowing. Fuck. He’s been an asshole, but he honestly didn’t expect she’d have spared him a passing thought. “I’ve just been busy with the book, I’m really sorry. Got in my own head a bit.”

“Oh,” Betty breathes. Is it relief in her big eyes, or is that just what he hopes to see? “No, no, it’s fine. I’m glad to hear that. Make some good headway, then?”

He shifts his basket in his arms so he can scratch his chin. “Yeah. Kinda,” he says. His eyes, desperate for something to do other than stare hopelessly at her, fall to the bottle of wine. “Bit early for a drink, don’t you think?” He asks, intending for it to be a joke, but he thinks of his father as he says it and it comes out sounding all wrong.

Betty blinks down at the bottle. “This is just a gift,” she explains, holding it up. “I’m heading up to Hudson today. To get your compressor part, actually. The wine is part of a thank-you; Adam’s letting me come get it right away. He called me when he got back last night.”

Jughead feels instantly suspicious of this Adam person. What’s in it for him to be so helpful? Then he frowns, remembering Kevin’s ominous mumbling about this guy Adam. He’d gotten the impression that he was interested in Betty from that, and that sends a flare of jealousy straight to his stomach. Is this why Betty looks a little dressier than usual? For him?

“So soon?” He asks, swallowing. “You’re ahead of schedule, then.”

Betty lifts a shoulder. “Well, I know how eager you are to get back on the road.”

He wants to punch himself in the face. Wants to tell her he hasn’t been able to get her out of his head all week, especially not after rolling around in the sand next to her while she wears a swimsuit straight from the set of Baywatch. Wants to tell her he has suddenly no foreseeable desire to leave Riverdale, or her.

“I mean, I still have to be in Chicago at the end of the month,” he says slowly, remembering himself. That won’t change, so there’s no point in beating around the bush. “But I’m not…it’s not like I’m rushing out the door.”

It’s as close to “I like you” as Jughead can get right now, and he’s fairly sure it’s a lost cause to attempt telepathy, but he tries it anyway. Betty smiles softly at him.

(No point in beating around the bush—that is, except for the one labeled: Jughead’s feelings for Betty.)

“That’s good to hear,” she says, her lips wrapping around the words in a melodic sort of way.

“Yeah, as we’ve previously discussed, turns out Riverdale’s not all bad,” he says, as they start to wander through the aisle. It’s another attempt at cryptically hinting that he likes her, but unsurprisingly, it doesn’t land.

Betty scoffs. “Careful there, I wouldn’t want the town to get a big head.”

“I mean, it’s no Phoenix or Tallahassee, but…” He grins at her rolling eyes. “A little bit of luck, spit, and shine, and it’s well on it’s way to being a real Toledo.”

“Look out,” she drawls. She’s getting bolder with her sarcasm; he wonders if he’s rubbing off on her.

She ends up tagging along with the rest of his shopping trip—they debate his taste in toothpaste brands, which Betty points out is the same one her sister buys for her kids, and she tells him that one apple does not actually keep a doctor away and he needs to buy more fruit, so she leads him back to the produce aisle and fills his basket with oranges and something called a lychee.

“You sound like JB,” he mutters, as she launches into a monologue about vitamins. “She’s a vegan, now. Me, the human garbage disposal, with her, my legume-loving sister. She’s always on my case about my diet. I don’t know how we’re going to live together.”

Betty glances over, her fingers pausing over a peach. He leans against a large crate of fruit. “That’s the other part of the reason why I have to get to Chicago with the truck. I’m helping her move back to Boston, and she’s gonna live with me until she figures out her next move. Which, if she’s anything like me, means she’ll be sleeping in my home office till she’s 30.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You’re a best selling author, and you’re 26.”

He squints right back at her. “Did you google me?”

She burns bright red and pretends to be very interested in procuring the right peach. “No,” she says. “Okay, yes. But after you revealed yourself as JP Jones, I just wanted to confirm. I’m a big believer in fact-checking citations and bibliographies, Juggie.”

There she goes with the nickname again; the one that sends his heart into a sickeningly gushy plunge. He hates it, and he loves it.

He wiggles his eyebrows at her. “Find anything incriminating on me during your journey into the deep web?”

She tips her chin into the air. “You’ll just have to see,” she sniffs, and then snags his shopping basket from his arms and deposits the peaches she’s spend the last few minutes selecting for him. He stands there for a moment, his lips lifting as he watches her move on to inspecting an ear of corn.

Betty glances back over her shoulder with a teasing grin, and his breath catches. She’s so beautiful.

“What are your thoughts on America’s most popular vegetable?” She asks, holding the corn up to the light.

“I think I don’t have anywhere to cook anything, no matter how prevalent it is to the industrialization of American farm,” he says, pushing off from his perch and snatching the corn from her hands. He tosses it back into its crate. “I’m cutting you off, Cooper. No more produce.”

“Well, I have a place to cook,” she says quickly, and then blushes. His eyes widen; it almost sounds like she’s inviting him to dinner, but then she picks the corn back up and continues. “I could—maybe I want it for myself.”

He puts his hands in the air. “Fine, fine. I mean, it’s your complicity with the corruption of factory farms, but fine.”

“Says the guy with a basket full of high-fructose corn syrup,” Betty points out, her eyes rolling. “And sorry, what is your logic here? I buy organic corn, therefore I support factory farming?”

“There is no ethical consumption under capitalism,” Jughead says, a finger in the air. “So I might as well go out with my guns slinging, some soda in hand.”

“Then you’ll leave me and my opinion on corn alone,” she replies, gathering a few ears into a little brown bag. He puts on a look of faux pretense, but takes his shopping basket back and transfers the vegetables and her bottle of wine into it. When she starts to protest him carrying her groceries, he just walks ahead.

What Jughead intended to be a way to kill time has now turned into a full hour, but at this point he’s dragging his shopping trip out as much as possible. When they part ways, Betty will go to see this Adam person, and give him this bottle of wine and maybe even smile at him in her soft, secretive kind of way, and then probably fall into his arms and—

“Juggie?” Betty asks, freeing him from the Gone With the Wind-esque nightmare playing out in his thoughts.

“Hm?” He asks, snapping back to attention.

Betty is reaching back into his basket, and he realizes they’re at the check out counter. “I should probably get going,” she says, glancing at the large clock hanging over the grocery line. He has no excuse to delay her any longer, so he nods and they move forward into line. She deposits her wine and corn onto the conveyer belt, says hello to the person behind the register, and starts digging through her purse for her wallet.

She waits for him while he pays for his groceries, and then they both head for the exit silently. Once again, he feels so stupid for avoiding her this past week. He should’ve been enjoying what little time he has with her, rather than falling victim to the self-fulfilling train wreck of his life.

He walks her to her car, gives her a little wave of goodbye as she slips into the driver’s seat, and turns on his heel. And then— “Hey, Juggie?”

He spins around absurdly fast. Betty is leaning out of her window, her arms folded out over the top of the door. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to come with me?” She asks, tilting her head at him. “We can get the compressor out of the way and then go get a nice lunch, or something. Hudson is cute, there’s lots of stuff to do.”

His brows furrow, as this is at odds with his presumptions about Betty’s nice outfit and the bottle of wine and the interested man waiting to meet with her. But he’s already shot himself in the foot once, so he’s not about to do it to the other.

“Sure,” he says, in what he hopes is a casual voice. He deposits his bag of groceries—luckily nothing perishable—into the back of the car and then comes around to the passenger’s side.

He settles in beside her, a warm feeling in his chest and something odd stuck in his throat.

Betty beams at him, and then turns onto the open road.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #fics #big sigh #here i go again

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preciousmetals0 · 4 years

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Tesla’s Cash Flows; Verizon’s Crossroads; Facebook Erodes

Tesla’s Cash Flows; Verizon’s Crossroads; Facebook Erodes:

Tesla to Bears: Eat My Shorts

Do we have any Tesla Inc. (Nasdaq: TSLA) bears reading today?

I know you’re out there. You write in to Great Stuff every time I say something positive about the company. Well, get your emails ready. Today, Tesla’s taking a victory lap … and I’m saying: “I told you so!”

Let’s get right to the heart of the matter, shall we?

Tesla reported blockbuster quarterly results last night. They were good … really good. As in, “Tesla turned in another profitable quarter” good.

Yes, Virginia. Tesla is profitable, earning $2.14 per share in the fourth quarter and beating expectations by more than 20%. Revenue came in at $7.38 billion, besting Wall Street’s target of $7 billion.

Now, we’ve seen Tesla put up profitable quarters before. What makes this one so much better?

Two factors really stood out this time. First, Tesla reported free cash flow of $1 billion for the quarter. That’s impressive just for the sheer fact that the company’s capital spending grew 27% in the same quarter.

Remember the Gigafactory in Shanghai? That cost the company $412 million to push through. Despite the added spending, overall capital expenditures were lower than 2018.

You’re starting to lose me here, Mr. Great Stuff. Just tell me what’s going on, please!

OK, so that’s a lot to take in. In layman’s terms, Tesla is spending less, spending smarter and bringing in more revenue. This is what every company dreams of doing. It’s how things are supposed to work.

What’s more, things will get even better for Tesla this year. The company projected 2020 sales of more than 500,000 vehicles.

Not bad for a company that many people believed would never be profitable.

The Takeaway:

Wall Street’s Tesla bears are eating a lot of crow today.

Here are two of my favorites:

Ben Kallo, an analyst at Baird, said: “A lot of retail investors actually have a deeper and more accurate insights than many of the big institutional investors and certainly a better insight than many of the analysts.”

Joseph Spak of RBC Capital Markets wrote: “We fully admit things are better than we expected and there is a lot of positive news flow and data points going Tesla’s way.”

While the bears admitted defeat, the Tesla bulls celebrated. “It’s becoming clear, in our view, that Tesla is on a path toward becoming the world’s only relevant publicly listed auto maker,” wrote Alexander Potter of Piper Sandler.

Now, I like Tesla, but I don’t know if I’m willing to follow Potter’s lead and call it the “only relevant publicly listed auto maker.” I think we’re still way too early in the game for that.

However, if Ford Motor Co. (NYSE: F) and General Motors Co. (NYSE: GM) don’t get their act together soon, Tesla could soon be the only relevant publicly traded American automaker.

Finally, you might be wondering if it’s finally time for you to bite the bullet and buy into Tesla. That answer is a firm “NO.”

Tesla is overbought and needs to consolidate or pull back more than a little. For the best long-term returns, you’d ideally want to target the $550 to $600 region. It may take a little while to fall back to those levels, but everything driving the shares higher right now is hype.

We don’t buy hype … and neither does Banyan Hill expert Jeff Yastine.

Jeff’s eye for spotting hidden value comes from his 15-plus years of financial news coverage. And now, he has his sights locked on a $5 stock that’s set to make waves.

With its life-saving innovation, this one company is set to revolutionize health care. There’s little hype surrounding this stock today, but Jeff predicts its value could triple in the next few years.

Click here to see why Jeff believes this pioneer is set to soar.

The Good: Am I Blue?

Why, wouldn’t you be too? (Couldn’t resist breaking out a little Billie Holiday.)

Microsoft Corp. (Nasdaq: MSFT) is most certainly not blue. It’s a nice, happy shade of green today … thanks to Azure, Microsoft’s cloud services.

The software giant once again beat Wall Street’s earnings forecasts, riding a 27% spike in intelligent-cloud revenue to $11.15 billion. Azure-specific revenue surged 62%.

Overall, total revenue jumped 14% to $36.9 billion, and earnings topped expectations by $0.29 per share.

Microsoft projected Azure revenue to reach between $11.85 and $12.05 billion for the current quarter, touting its market dominance even in the face of stiff competition from Amazon.com Inc.’s (Nasdaq: AMZN) Amazon Web Services.

“Azure is the only cloud that offers consistency across operating models, development environments, and infrastructure stack, enabling customers to bring cloud compute and intelligence to any connected or disconnected environment,” CEO Satya Nadella said.

The Bad: Door No. 1, Please

Verizon Communications Inc. (NYSE: VZ) gazed longingly into the horizon today, shedding a few percentage points after a mixed bag of earnings.

America’s largest mobile carrier added 790,000 phone connections. When you consider rival AT&T Inc. (NYSE: T) added only 229,000 … so far, so good.

The problem here is Verizon’s media division, on which the company just wrote down a roughly $200 million charge. Who would’ve thought buying AOL and Yahoo was a bad idea? (I think we all thought that, actually.)

It’s like when my wife sends me to Walmart for groceries … and I come back with a Duck Dynasty Chia Pet and a gallon jug of Tabasco. After Tumblr’s fire sale last year, Verizon is 0 for 3 on the acquisition front.

VZ shares have gone practically nowhere since November … of 2018. Personally, I see two paths the company can take.

Mr. Great Stuff, what’s behind door No. 1 for Verizon today?

The company could take the “L” and leave its media unit behind in the noughties (that’s what we’re calling the 2000s now, apparently … or so my daughter tells me).

And door No. 2?

Verizon could pull an AT&T: buy some more content and roll out a streaming service. Yet Verizon’s AOL and Yahoo deals (worth $4.4 billion and $4.48 billion, respectively) were mere pennies compared to the nearly $109 billion AT&T spent for Time Warner.

But honestly, there’s not that much content out there left to buy. There’s what … MGM and Lionsgate? Those are about the only two worth mentioning. And Verizon would probably have to fight both Netflix Inc. (Nasdaq: NFLX) and Apple Inc. (Nasdaq: AAPL) for either of them, pushing the price tag even higher.

Door No. 2 is clearly a bad idea for Verizon. After all, Great Stuff readers know how well the Time Warner ordeal is working out for AT&T…

The Ugly: Overhyped

By most measures, Facebook Inc. (Nasdaq: FB) just turned in a solid quarter. The social media giant beat earnings guidance by $0.04 per share and topped revenue expectations by $21 million.

But it wasn’t the actual numbers that scared investors today. It was the growth of those numbers. Facebook’s revenue rose 25% to $21.08 billion — its slowest pace in more than four years. Earnings rose 8% to $2.56 per share, slowing from 20% growth in the prior quarter. This also marks the smallest earnings beat Facebook has ever recorded.

Those are still impressive numbers. Are Facebook’s investors just spoiled?

The answer here is “yes” … with a caveat. Yes, Facebook investors will likely have to get used to lower growth rates for both revenue and earnings. It’s only natural since the company is near market saturation (a problem that Netflix is running into in U.S. subscriber growth).

But the real problem comes with government regulation. Antitrust lawsuits and investigations abound. Defending against those isn’t cheap, and that’ll be an increasingly heavy burden on Facebook’s bottom line. And if the government decides to drop the hammer? That’s even worse.

The ugly truth is that Facebook’s glory days are now behind it. You can expect more “disappointing” reports like this in the future.

You know the drill. You Marco. I Polo.

It’s Reader Feedback time!

Judging from your emails this week, there are two things on your minds: the overhyped coronavirus and internet browsers. Seriously, I didn’t know that browsers were still such a hot-button issue. It’s like I’m back in the days of Netscape and Internet Explorer.

Before we get to those topics, we have some praise from Beth R., who wrote:

I get so much in my inbox from Banyan that I can’t keep up, but I kept yours because of the humor. Love your style of writing. Love the rundown you put in on Roku, because seeing it listed out like that was helpful.

What I like about your email is that it isn’t all about “Something no one else wants you to know” or “Push here to read all about what the Wall Street bigwigs don’t want you to know.” You get the drift. And thank God I don’t have to sit and watch a video I don’t have time for.

Keep up the good work.

Thank you, Beth! We try our hardest to “keep it real” here at Great Stuff. And if we make you laugh while doing it, all the better! Some days, you just need a spot of humor to help the market go down. Also, no one wants to watch my ugly mug for half an hour on video. So, text is what you get!

On to the browser wars!

I switched to Firefox years ago, mostly for privacy, as Google tends to mine too much information from your history. — Gary S.

I’ve never used Chrome because I’ve never trusted Alphabet! — Tim P.

I’ve recently quit using Chrome and switched to Brave, which is based on the Chrome code base, as is Microsoft’s latest version of Edge. Brave looks and acts very much like Google Chrome without the privacy issues. Well worth checking out. — John S.

There are two themes when it comes to browsers: Great Stuff readers hate Chrome and Google, and love Firefox … and Brave? I have to admit — I’ve never heard of Brave before, but after quite a few of you recommended it, I’ll check it out this weekend. Thanks for teaching this old dog new tricks!

Time to get infectious. Mary S. wrote:

My friends are cutting up limes and clicking their Coronas. I am sure you have seen the meme?

We have scary-virus exhaustion.

Mary, I also have scary-virus exhaustion. It’s why I haven’t mentioned it today … except for right now, of course. So, my plan to avoid the coronavirus today failed, and it’s all your fault. I sentence you to a weekend of Coronas and limes.

As for the market, I still maintain that it won’t be that big of a deal until it starts spreading in Western countries. Thanks for writing in, Mary!

If you wrote in and I didn’t get to you, it might be because you cursed too $%*?@#! much. I still really appreciate the feedback, even if they won’t let me publish it.

And if you haven’t written in yet … what’s stopping you? Drop me a line at [email protected] and let me know how you’re doing out there in this crazy bull market.

That’s a wrap for today. But if you’re still craving more Great Stuff, you can check us out on social media: Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

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goldira01 · 4 years

Link

Tesla to Bears: Eat My Shorts

Do we have any Tesla Inc. (Nasdaq: TSLA) bears reading today?

Let’s get right to the heart of the matter, shall we?

Tesla reported blockbuster quarterly results last night. They were good … really good. As in, “Tesla turned in another profitable quarter” good.

Now, we’ve seen Tesla put up profitable quarters before. What makes this one so much better?

Remember the Gigafactory in Shanghai? That cost the company $412 million to push through. Despite the added spending, overall capital expenditures were lower than 2018.

You’re starting to lose me here, Mr. Great Stuff. Just tell me what’s going on, please!

What’s more, things will get even better for Tesla this year. The company projected 2020 sales of more than 500,000 vehicles.

Not bad for a company that many people believed would never be profitable.

The Takeaway:

Wall Street’s Tesla bears are eating a lot of crow today.

Here are two of my favorites:

Joseph Spak of RBC Capital Markets wrote: “We fully admit things are better than we expected and there is a lot of positive news flow and data points going Tesla’s way.”

However, if Ford Motor Co. (NYSE: F) and General Motors Co. (NYSE: GM) don’t get their act together soon, Tesla could soon be the only relevant publicly traded American automaker.

Finally, you might be wondering if it’s finally time for you to bite the bullet and buy into Tesla. That answer is a firm “NO.”

We don’t buy hype … and neither does Banyan Hill expert Jeff Yastine.

Jeff’s eye for spotting hidden value comes from his 15-plus years of financial news coverage. And now, he has his sights locked on a $5 stock that’s set to make waves.

Click here to see why Jeff believes this pioneer is set to soar.

The Good: Am I Blue?

Why, wouldn’t you be too? (Couldn’t resist breaking out a little Billie Holiday.)

Microsoft Corp. (Nasdaq: MSFT) is most certainly not blue. It’s a nice, happy shade of green today … thanks to Azure, Microsoft’s cloud services.

The software giant once again beat Wall Street’s earnings forecasts, riding a 27% spike in intelligent-cloud revenue to $11.15 billion. Azure-specific revenue surged 62%.

Overall, total revenue jumped 14% to $36.9 billion, and earnings topped expectations by $0.29 per share.

The Bad: Door No. 1, Please

Verizon Communications Inc. (NYSE: VZ) gazed longingly into the horizon today, shedding a few percentage points after a mixed bag of earnings.

America’s largest mobile carrier added 790,000 phone connections. When you consider rival AT&T Inc. (NYSE: T) added only 229,000 … so far, so good.

VZ shares have gone practically nowhere since November … of 2018. Personally, I see two paths the company can take.

Mr. Great Stuff, what’s behind door No. 1 for Verizon today?

The company could take the “L” and leave its media unit behind in the noughties (that’s what we’re calling the 2000s now, apparently … or so my daughter tells me).

And door No. 2?

Door No. 2 is clearly a bad idea for Verizon. After all, Great Stuff readers know how well the Time Warner ordeal is working out for AT&T…

The Ugly: Overhyped

By most measures, Facebook Inc. (Nasdaq: FB) just turned in a solid quarter. The social media giant beat earnings guidance by $0.04 per share and topped revenue expectations by $21 million.

Those are still impressive numbers. Are Facebook’s investors just spoiled?

The ugly truth is that Facebook’s glory days are now behind it. You can expect more “disappointing” reports like this in the future.

You know the drill. You Marco. I Polo.

It’s Reader Feedback time!

Before we get to those topics, we have some praise from Beth R., who wrote:

Keep up the good work.

On to the browser wars!

I switched to Firefox years ago, mostly for privacy, as Google tends to mine too much information from your history. — Gary S.

I’ve never used Chrome because I’ve never trusted Alphabet! — Tim P.

Time to get infectious. Mary S. wrote:

My friends are cutting up limes and clicking their Coronas. I am sure you have seen the meme?

We have scary-virus exhaustion.

As for the market, I still maintain that it won’t be that big of a deal until it starts spreading in Western countries. Thanks for writing in, Mary!

If you wrote in and I didn’t get to you, it might be because you cursed too $%*?@#! much. I still really appreciate the feedback, even if they won’t let me publish it.

And if you haven’t written in yet … what’s stopping you? Drop me a line at [email protected] and let me know how you’re doing out there in this crazy bull market.

That’s a wrap for today. But if you’re still craving more Great Stuff, you can check us out on social media: Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

#Timor Invest

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