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goalhofer · 1 year

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U.S. Daily Precipitation Records Tied/Broken 12/12/22

Unincorporated Copper River Census Area, Alaska: 0.77" (previous record 0.15" 1987)

Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska: 1.6" (previous record 1.22" 1982)

Unincorporated Valdez-Cordova Census Area, Alaska: 1.32" (previous record 0.91" 1944)

Carefree, Arizona: 0.43" (previous record 0.25" 2003)

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona: 0.39" (previous record 0.14" 1993)

Parker, Arizona: 0.31" (previous record 0.3" 1906)

Picacho Peak State Park, Arizona: 0.32" (previous record 0.23" 2003)

Unincorporated Pima County, Arizona: 0.4" (previous record 0.35" 1984)

Prescott, Arizona: 0.5" (previous record 0.34" 2011)

Tempe, Arizona: 0.23" (previous record 0.2" 1991)

Tonto Natural Bridge State Park, Arizona: 2.25" (previous record 0.96" 1937)

Tucson, Arizona: 0.5" (previous record 0.34" 2015)

Winslow, Arizona: 0.37" (previous record 0.32" 2015)

Barstow, California: 0.85" (previous record 0.25" 2014)

Unincorporated San Diego County, California: 1.42" (previous record 1.02" 1993)

Sierra National Forest, California: 3.09" (previous record 2.73" 1937)

Viejas Reservation, California: 0.95" (previous record 0.5" 1951)

Lynx Pass summit, Colorado: 0.5" (previous record 0.4" 2019)

Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado: 0.4" (also 0.4" 2002)

San Juan National Forest, Colorado: 0.6" (also 0.6" 2011)

Howe, Idaho: 1" (previous record 0.7" 1995)

Unincorporated Owyhee County, Idaho: 0.8" (previous record 0.45 1995)

Snake River Birds Of Prey Conservation Area, ID: 0.37" (previous record 0.3" 1937)

South Mt. summit, Idaho: 0.9" (also 0.9" 2006)

Unincorporated Twin Falls County, Idaho: 0.4" (also 0.4" 2019)

Topeka, Kansas: 0.31" (previous record 0.2" 2001)

Unincorporated Beaverhead County, Montana: 0.15" (previous record 0.13" 1983)

Unincorporated Cascade County, Montana: 0.29" (previous record 0.24" 2013)

Unincorporated Chouteau County, Montana: 0.32" (previous record 0.13" 2010)

Unincorporated Chouteau County, Montana: 0.24" (previous record 0.22" 1958)

Crow Reservation, Montana: 0.09" (previous record 0.07" 1995)

Shelby, Montana: 0.34" (previous record 0.25" 1951)

Unincorporated Teton County, Montana: 0.26" (previous record 0.14" 1972)

Unincorporated Toole County, Montana: 0.19" (previous record 0.14" 1972)

Lexington, Nebraska: 0.34" (previous record 0.04" 2015)

Great Basin National Park, Nevada: 0.25" (previous record 0.15" 1992)

Humboldt National Forest, Nevada: 1.2" (previous record 1" 2009)

Bend, Oregon: 3" (previous record 1.28" 1948)

Unincorporated Jefferson County, Oregon: 0.85" (previous record 0.59" 1995)

Unincorporated Jefferson County, Oregon: 1.29" (previous record 0.65" 1995)

Unincorporated Malheur County, Oregon: 0.55" (previous record 0.53" 1983)

Unincorporated Malheur County, Oregon: 0.62" (previous record 0.39" 1995)

Moro, Oregon: 1.4" (previous record 0.84" 1995)

Steens Mt. Management & Protection Area, OR: 1.5" (previous record 1" 1983)

Paint Rock, Texas: 1" (previous record 0.95" 1923)

Ashley National Forest, Utah: 0.6" (previous record 0.5" 1995)

Unincorporated Cache County, Utah: 0.34" (previous record 0.31" 1995)

Canyonlands National Park, Utah: 0.11" (previous record 0.09" 2015)

Dinosaur National Monument, Utah: 1" (previous record 0.72" 1920)

Unincorporated Iron County, Utah: 0.61" (previous record 0.13" 1993)

La Verkin, Utah: 0.36" (previous record 0.28" 1990)

New Harmony, Utah: 0.77" (previous record 0.4" 1940)

Roosevelt, Utah: 0.2" (previous record 0.14" 1965)

Unincorporated San Juan County, Utah: 0.22" (previous record 0.18" 2020)

Wasatch National Forest, Utah: 0.5" (previous record 0.4" 2019)

Colville, Washington: 0.76" (previous record 0.6" 1933)

Battle Peak summit, Wyoming: 0.6" (previous record 0.3" 2009)

Bighorn National Forest, Wyoming: 0.4" (previous record 0.3" 1983)

Divide Peak summit, Wyoming: 0.7" (also 0.7" 2019)

Lander, Wyoming: 0.49" (previous record 0.29" 1992)

Routt National Forest, Wyoming: 0.5" (also 0.5" 1985)

Shoshone National Forest, Wyoming: 0.4" (also 0.4" 1995)

Unincorporated Sweetwater County, Wyoming: 0.1" (previous record 0.08" 2016)

Wind River Reservation, Wyoming: 0.2" (also 0.2" 1983)

#Storms #U.S.A.#U.S.#Arizona #1980s #1930s #1900s #1990s #1950s #Idaho #Montana #1970s #Nevada #Oregon #1940s #Texas #1920s #Utah #1960s #Washington #Wyoming #Alaska #Colorado #Kansas #Nebraska

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colonel-killa-bee · 3 years

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#bardok red-snow #tes #eso #The Elder Scrolls #The Elder Scrolls Online #Sweetwater Cascades

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soyforramen · 3 years

Note

If I'm not too late, for the writing prompts: 9 and/or 47, dealer's choice

· “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

· You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you

Angst below, in an AU timeline...ish

It felt like a fire had lit up her lungs, the smoke crawling up her throat and choking her until her breath rasped out into the cold night air. Behind her, Jughead stumbled, his breathing coming like tidal waves. Betty spared a quick glance at him as she yanked at his arm and pointed to the ridge beyond.

“Just over there,” she lied.

It was becoming easier and easier to lie to him.

On their way up the ridge her feet slipped in the muddy wet leaves. Her knees hit the ground and her teeth rattled hard enough to see stars. Jughead slipped an arm around her waist and dragged her up the rest of the hill, his breath erratic.

It was another ten minutes until they finally reached Archie’s car, the only one in the Sweetwater parking lot. Not many people went hiking at 4 a.m., let alone to go chase down a kidnapped ex.

Thunder rolled above them, the vibrations lingering deep in her bones, and they leaned around the car. Jughead’s hand were on his knees, his breath gasping and desperate. His wiped at the water trickling down his face and coughed hard. Betty kneeled on the ground, hands grasping at the loose asphalt as she forced herself to focus on counting rather than what she’d encountered tonight.

“What the hell was that for?” Jughead wheezed.

Betty shook her head, still unable to talk through her sore throat. She let out a slow breath – 1, 2, 3, 4 – and breathed in again.

“Why’d you try and save me?” he yelled over the thunder. A crack of lightening illuminated them and she was startled by the intensity in his eyes.

“Did you want me to leave you back in there?” she shot back. Stars colored her eyes as she tried to stand, and she listed to one side, grasping for the car to keep her balance.

Jughead snarled and paced towards the far end of the parking lot, ignoring the pouring rain around them. From his limp, Betty assumed he had a Charlie Horse. Betty wanted to chide him about not taking care of his body, about his inability to treat it as something better than a dumpster for all his repressed feelings. It wasn’t her place, though. Not anymore.

Besides, it seemed cruel to point out, especially after he’d been on the verge of being tortured –

“I don’t need your help,” he said when he returned, his words still punctured by small gasps. “I had everything covered.”

She snorted and stood up to face him. A chill ran through her as the wind picked up, but she diverted the movement into massaging at her damaged wrist. Jughead, still as perceptive as ever, didn’t miss her wince. He reached towards her, his eyes fixed on her wrist. Realizing what he was about to do, he stopped short and bent over to retie his shoe.

Even from this angle Betty could see how thin he was.

“I’m sure you did,” she said. Even as the adrenaline seeped out of her body she still couldn’t keep the acid from her voice. “That great, big escape plan of yours was going swell, though I’m curious as to what you were planning after you got chained up in the basement and held to the wall with duct tape. Or did I miss something when I broke in?”

Half her words were covered up by an angry burst of thunder. Perhaps it was for the best; they’d both been through a lot. Or, perhaps it would have been better to put it all out there, fight out their anger until there was nothing left remaining.

Jughead’s lip curled, and Betty knew he’d caught enough.

Betty narrowed her eyes. Despite everything, she still didn’t know whether to trust him. There had been too much time between them, too much space and anger and - Not to mention his aliens and her serial killer.

“You can’t drive stick with a broken wrist.”

“It’s not broken,” she said petulantly, her lip pursed like Juniper’s when she didn’t get the last cookie.

Knowing that he was right, she dug into her coat pocket, angry with Jughead and herself. Another gust of wind blew through their wet cloths, and they huddled into the cab of the truck. As the engine turned over, Jughead scrubbed at the window with his damp shirtsleeves, trying to break through the fog that had followed them. The water streaked across, unable to change, and he gave up on the idea. With a grunt, he shifted into drive and turned towards town.

“Stupid,” he muttered, and Betty side-eyed him.

Her first instinct was that he was talking about her, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping. After everything she’d done tonight, and he still couldn’t think anyone could care for him. Betty stared out of the window, her fingers pushing and prodding against the delicate skin on her wrist, revealing in the sharp jolts of pain and irritation. Eventually the pain cleared through her fog of anger and she realized he was likely talking to himself.

“Just –“

Jughead stopped, cursing under his breath. They came to a blind curve, halfway under water, and he shifted to first gear. As they crept along Betty’s eyes began to shut. She could feel her muscles relaxing as the adrenaline wore off, and the only thing that kept her awake was the potholes in the road. In the flashes of lightening above them, she could see Jughead’s jaw clenching as he worked to keep something in check.

Fine, she thought idly as darkness consumed her. Let him be mad. It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t want to be near her.

She was startled awake when the engine stopped. In front of them was the Andrews’ home, normally bright and cheery, but in this light it was eerily still in the pouring rain.

“He’s not home tonight,” Jughead said flatly. “You can stay in his room. Unless you want to go home.”

Betty shook her head, trying not to let her fear overtake her. The house was empty and would be for the next week. They still hadn’t heard anything about Polly, and Alice had taken the twins upstate to try and get their mind off of it. After tonight (any night, every night, ever since – she cut off that particular voice, struggling to keep that terrible week out of her head), the last thing she wanted to do was to be alone.

The thought sent a shudder through her and she wrapped her arms around herself to try and keep the chill from sprinting down her back.

Jughead nodded, still staring straight ahead. He’d pulled the keys from the ignition and was now jangling them in his hand. He opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, not seeming to care whether Betty followed him or not. She scrambled out of the car, towards the front door and slipped in after him.

She held her breath, waiting in the long stretch of dark, for the lights to turn on. When they did, it was nothing more than Archie’s living room, still messy and smelling slightly of old clothing and pizza.

Jughead stalked towards the kitchen, his face set in an emotion she couldn’t discern anymore. A gut feeling told her it was because she was a stranger here, one who was encroaching not only on his ‘investigation’ but also on his personal space.

“I’ll make coffee,” Jughead said gruffly. “Take a shower or you’ll catch a cold.”

The way he’d said it, matter-of-factly and without any emotion behind it, contrasted so sharply with the fact that he’d remembered. He remembered, and wanted to let her know he’d remembered that she was prone to get colds when it rained. These little things twisted the knife deeper into her back and she tried not to think about her last foray into this home.

“Thanks,” Betty said softly.

She barely glanced at the mirror when she stepped into the bathroom. A thick cover of mud coated her lower half, while leaves had taken up residence in her hair. Her wrist, still throbbing and sore, was a swollen bright red. As bad as she might have looked, Betty revealed in the metaphorical duality of it all. Long ago, she might have said she was a good person, untouched by the corruption of life. Now, though, she felt as dirty and broken as she looked.

Pity about the boots though. Real suede apparently didn’t mix well with the more wild side of life. Betty didn’t dare think about what it would cost to buy Veronica a new pair.

The pipes groaned as the water warmed up. Peeling off her clothes was a chore, the damp, clinging clothes didn’t want to cooperate. The wet slap of them on the floor was a loud echo as she stepped into the shower.

The warm water was practically sinful after tonight. She let it cascade down her skin and shut her eyes to the world around her. Every inch of her body felt sore and bruised. She dreaded even thinking about how she’d feel tomorrow.

A draft of cold air sent goosebumps along her skin and Betty stilled. She trusted Jughead, of course, and yet…

The door shut again, and she peered around the curtain to find a set of clothing on the counter. Her heart stopped when she recognized a grey S from so long ago. Reluctant to let it out of her sight, Betty pulled the shower curtain to. He’d always had a bad habit of forming sentimental attachments to things, to items that had no right to such kindness.

But to have kept that shirt all these years? To have kept her shirt? Surely not. Surely her eyes, tired and sore from lack of sleep, had deceived her.

The ghost of her guilt churned again, deeper this time. A sharp pain went through her stomach – of guilt? regret? hope?

Betty picked up the bar of soap in her uninjured hand and scrubbed at her skin, hot tears running cold against her cheeks. Careless. She was always so careless with everything worth while. Archie’s hands ghosted across her skin, his lips, his whispers they both knew were lies. She was only looking for an escape, not another well to get trapped in. This time, though, she couldn’t think of a single way to escape.

A sob broke from her lips, and then another, and another. She shoved her fist against her mouth and curled up at the bottom of the tub. It was all she could do to keep from breaking up. A part of her, the one that saw reason, was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier tonight when she’d seen Jughead half-conscious with a red welt on his forehead. His head lolled absently against a support beam. His hands tightly bound with duct tape. Tight enough they were turning purple. Those stupid glasses lay at his feet only to reflect the beam of her flashlight onto the chains that bound him.

Images, real and imagined, flashed before her eyes. The well. TBK laughing above her. Polly, bound and gagged in the back of a cab. The twins, facedown in Sweetwater. Squeeky Fromme’s dead eyes staring up at the night sky, milky and flat. Jughead’s hands –

Betty shook her head, trying to shake the images away. No, that hadn’t happened, she chanted internally. It’s not real.

Not this time.

Long after the water had run cold, Betty finally came back to herself. Her movements were slow and forced; her head felt uselessly full of cotton. With a groan, she stood up and gasped as pins and needles threw her back to the ground. Unable to do anything, Betty turned off the water, gritting her teeth as she waited for the feeling to come back into her legs.

Into her life, even.

Now, with only the steady drip of a leaky faucet to keep her company, Betty heard just how quiet it was in the house. The wind blew outside, stronger than ever, but it seemed as if the house itself had gone into hibernation. Jughead had likely gone to bed, she realized. Or maybe he’d been smart enough to know he should see a doctor after all.

Perhaps that would be best. Then they could both pretend tonight had never happened and go back to the chilly detente they’d found themselves living in.

With an anticipatory wince, Betty hauled herself up and out of the tub. As she reached for the towel, she realized that the shirt loudly proclaimed ‘El Royale Gym’ in bright red letters. She scowled at the dancing rooster, ordering it to be something other than it was. Clearly, though, she’d been wrong.

Roughly, she pulled the shirt over her head, her damp hair catching at the collar, and stepped into the gym shorts. Why she put herself through this, why she tortured herself with something so impossible –

“Coffee’s on the counter,” Jughead said when she stepped out. His fingers flew over the keyboard, his eyes never leaving the screen.

At least some things never changed, she supposed. Even that, though, rang hollow after what they’d been through tonight.

Betty wrapped her hands around the mug, grateful for something to occupy herself with. She sipped at it a moment, giving him the chance to say something. Do something. When he didn’t, she didn’t know whether she felt relief, or disappointment.

It wasn’t until she reached the stairs that he finally spoke.

“Just tell me why you did it,” he said.

She hesitated, knowing that this was her own personal Maginot line. Crossing this would mean the end of one life, and the beginning of another strange reality, one where she would have no control.

“Why did you come after me? Why didn’t you call Sheriff Keller, or Archie, or –“

“Because I’m still in love with you,” Betty said. Her voice was no more than a soft sigh, but it was enough to bring about a sudden calmness.

The calm before the storm, she thought morbidly. Whatever would happen now, whatever was said…

She waited, counting to a hundred. When he didn’t say anything, she set the coffee down on a side table and went to Archie’s room, shutting the door softly behind her.

(Part 2 here)

#bughead fanfic #prompt #riverdale #but instead of saying art i'm saying angst (with the long a like ahngst)#pretend i'm posing like that art dude from the iron giant

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ms-maj · 4 years

Text

Jug’s Last Day

I know you guys were really jonesing for another songfic ;)

All of the gratitude to @bettycooper for her amaze beta and graphics skills. Cat, as always, thank you for turning my alphabet soup into a lovely word salad. You the best!

And to Sarah, @theheavycrown, thank you for your support and friendship and believing in my words even when I don’t <3

Oh when you left home and moved to Ohio

The summer had come to an end

My best friend goes I try to follow

Running as you disappear

Stay, you know how bad this hurts

It’s been three weeks and just gets worse

Come back to PA

Forever this time

Greg’s Last Day- The Starting Line

May 24

“So do you know when you’re leaving yet?” Archie asked quietly, trying not to draw the eye of their friends wading down the bank of the river.

Jughead shrugged, eyes cast down, kicking at the pebbled ground with the worn toe of his boot. “Not until August, I don’t think. Before school starts for sure. I think I get the summer at least.”

“Did you tell her?”

He stopped and sighed, head shaking no.

“Neither part I take?”

Jughead finally met his best friend’s eyes. What was sadness a moment ago is now abject horror. “Why would I do that to her? To me? I’m only going to be around for another two months, max—”

“Okay, okay!” Archie held up his hands defensively, dropping them when he noticed his friend’s attention had once again been captured by the meandering bank of Sweetwater River and the blonde ponytail that traced its path. He stepped forward to nudge Jughead’s shoulder with his own. “Then don’t tell her that thing, but you have to tell her that you’re leaving, Jug.”

“I know, Arch, I know.”

June 10

“How are we already seniors in high school, Jug?” Betty sat cross-legged on the cot in the back of the projection booth.

Jughead grunted in response, the bulk of his attention on the finicky machine in front of him.

“Maybe I’ll finally get a real date to homecoming this year, since Kevn has a boyfriend and all.”

His hands stilled on the projector. At thoughts of Betty in dresses of satin and lace, across every color of the spectrum, hair curled in soft waves over her shoulders, spinning out of his arms and onto the dance floor a smile crept to his lips. He could almost feel the warmth of her hand in his, hear the soft lilt of her voice when she says—

“Juggie?” He’s snapped back to reality, the dream sequence bursting appropriately above her head as he turned to meet her questioning gaze, the dawning realization that all of those things will come to pass whether he’s in the picture or not sinks like hot lead in his stomach.

“Sorry, this thing’s a piece of shit. Always takes a while to get going. If you want, you can go find Kevin and Archie. I know a bunch of other kids from school are here, too, so you don’t have to sit here and watch me fight the projector,” he swallowed the bile down with the lie. The projector was old but well-cared for, and in all the years of the Twilight’s operation it had never failed.

“Oh,” her voice was hushed, almost disappointed. “I thought we…”

The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears as their eyes held over the projector. “It’s just not going to be much fun watching me try to keep this thing running.”

It was dark in the booth save for the light emanating from the machine which gave off just enough to see the tears welling in her eyes. “Sure, whatever you say Jug.”

She was gone before the last of the breath he was holding escaped.

(read below or check it out here)

July 7

The lights were hung from the trees in her backyard, encircling them and twinkling in the humid July night. It was Betty’s seventeenth birthday and yellow frosted cake sat too brightly between the various healthy snacks that seemed terribly out of place at a teenager’s party.

“You look really pretty,” he managed as his hands sat awkwardly on her waist. The pink fabric of her dress was slick yet stuck under the dampness of his fingers.

She smiled. “Thanks, Juggie. I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He felt the furrow of his brow, his fingers tightening against satin.

“Oh,” she flicked the hair off her shoulder, eyes cautiously glancing back to meet his. “It’s just that you’ve been really busy. I haven’t seen you much.”

Her voice was soft. Even through the music and raucous laughter of their peers, it was lyrical and light and maybe just a little bit sad. Jughead tightened his grip on her sides in a poor attempt to tamp down the ever growing desire to run his hands across the entirety of her body.

“Work,” he said, probably more terse than he meant, but it was a lie he was trying to sell. “Between the Twilight and taking shifts at Pop’s...it’s been a busy summer.”

Betty nodded. “No, I know that. It’s just…” Her head shook softly as her most tried and true generic Cooper smile faltered. “I was hoping to see more of you before we got bogged down by school.”

Jughead could swear he smiled, but the look reflected back at him conveyed he did not. He could feel the sweat forming under the betraying rim of his beanie, a lock of escaped hair sticking to his brow. Her arm rose from his shoulder, and while he missed the sensation, the one that replaced it made him shiver. Her soft, slender fingers found their way to the unruly curl, sliding under it and wrapping it around them before gently brushing it from his forehead and back under his beanie.

“Betts,” he swallowed thickly, her hand still lingering on the side of his head.

“Hey, Mr. Jones!”

Jughead felt the air leave his body as he turned toward the gate to see Mr. Andrews and his father talking.

“Are you here for Jug? I can’t believe you guys are leaving already!” Archie called out from behind them.

“Leaving? Where are you going, Jug?” Her hand fell from his face and landed awkwardly on his shoulder.

There was no way around it now. Not when she should have known since the beginning. Not when she was looking up at him more confused than he’d ever seen her. “Um, do you think we could go somewhere and talk?”

He was so fixated on the wrinkle between Betty’s eyebrows, the way her face scrunched up when she was deep in thought, that he didn’t see the movement to his left. Didn’t know his father had made his way through the crowd to clap him on the back and proclaim to the entirety of their classmates: “Truck’s all packed. Just a good night’s sleep is all that’s separating us Jones men from the Buckeye State.”

“Buckeye?” Betty echoed absently, her arms dropping from around his neck. “Jughead?”

He swallowed, opening his mouth to speak and promptly shut it when no words came out. The dawning realization stole over her face, confusion melting away to hurt. Shaking her head, she turned out of his arms, her hands in fists at her sides, before she ran from the yard altogether.

“Fuck!” Fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose while the other hand balled up at his side.

“I’ll let that one go, boy. Looks like you have bigger fish to fry,” FP squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, gaze softening as he walked back toward Fred.

“Bro, how did you not tell her?” Archie’s voice sounded distant in his ears even though he was standing right next to him.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, Arch,” he slipped the beanie off his head and grabbed a fistful of hair.

“You know what you have to do, right?”

He looked up at his best friend, who looked far more sympathetic than Jughead deserved. “I know, I know. But where do I even start?”

Archie clapped him on the shoulder and nodded encouragingly. “You know exactly what you have to do, man. And now you have to tell her the other thing too. Good luck. She’s got a mean left hook.”

There was another reassuring squeeze of his shoulder before Archie ran back into the crowd. Jughead sighed, replaced the worn beanie on his head, and took off for the one place he was sure Betty would be.

Except she wasn’t.

Not at the river. Not at Pop’s. Not in Archie’s old, dilapidated tree house nor at Picken’s Park. He stalked through the streets berating himself, kicking at the pavement and scuffing the dangerously thin soles of his shoes.

Archie said she hadn’t made it back to the house yet, which meant his search wasn’t completely wasted, but the longer he walked with no sightings, the harder it was to accept she wanted to be found. Not that he’d stop looking. There were too many things left unsaid and too much history between them to let it all fall to the wayside, because he’d been an idiot.

He wished it was cooler. Sweat beaded on his brow, so much so he resorted to using his beanie as a rag, shoving the damp wool into his back pocket instead of back on his head. Between the stagnant midsummer night air and the way his anxiety seemed to simmer just under his skin, he felt fully aflame.

If only he had…

There were so many things he could have done, or said, so many missed opportunities and moments left to chance. He played every interaction he and Betty had since school let out, since he knew he was leaving and understands—knows implicitly—he is the only one at fault for his current predicament.

And yet he wants to lash out at everyone. At Archie for spilling his admittedly stupid secret, at his dad for insisting they leave right after Betty’s party, at Betty for looking so sad and hurt when he knew that she’d miss him for maybe a minute. Tops.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” her voice came from behind him, louder and sharper than usual. He slowly turned to find her sitting on a bench, the harsh light from the streetlamp cascading down on her.

“I didn’t think I said that out loud,” he started toward her, halting when she held up her hand. It dropped to her lap after a moment, joining the fingers of her other hand clutching at the fabric of her dress. “Betts…”

“Do you really believe that, Jug? Has our friendship meant that little to you, or are you just trying to make yourself feel better for being a dick?” He saw the tear roll down her cheek, the attempt to leave it unacknowledged, and then, the hasty removal of it from her face. “You know, honestly, at this point I don’t know if I care,” her sniffle carried across the space, somehow not drowned out by the restless cicadas or the pounding of his heart.

“No! No,of course not, Betty. I know you would miss me for at least five whole minutes,” he deadpanned. However, it seemed Betty was not in the mood for his misguided attempt to deflect. The roll of her eyes and the sharp set of her jaw had him reaching for his sweat-soaked beanie, retrieving it from his back pocket and pulling at it aggressively as he tried to cover his hair. “Can I try this again?”

He was answered by a curt nod as Betty looked away from him once again.

“My dad is about a hairsbreadth away from both falling off the wagon and back into the inglorious cesspool of gang life. As a last ditch attempt in not destroying everything, he and my mother came to some sort of arrangement if we moved to Toledo.”

Betty’s mouth opened slightly before snapping back shut, the juncture of her jaw throbbing against the soft curve of her cheek. Her eyes closed for a moment before she spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not a conversation that I wanted to have with anyone, Betty. Least of all you,” his hand scratched at the back of his neck, eyes not daring to look up from the pavement.

“But you obviously told Archie, right? So why not me? Are we not…” she stopped and pressed the tips of her fingers against her lips. “I guess we’re just not as close as I thought.”

The hand dropped from Jughead’s neck as he stepped toward her. “You know that’s not true either.”

“So what was it then, Jughead! Tell me why you could confide in Archie but not me? Tell me why you pulled away when you already knew you’d be leaving?”

“Because I refused to have you look at me like that! Like some sad, lost cause with one foot in the grave and the other following exactly in dear ol’ dad’s footsteps.”

“What? Jughead,” she stood, quickly wrapping her arms around her torso, seemingly to stop herself from reaching for him, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. “You know, I don’t know what hurts worse. The knowledge that my best friend is moving. Tomorrow. Or that he thinks I think so little of him and our friendship I would (A) judge him for things completely out of his control, (B) not understand what it was like to deal with fucked up parents, or (C) think I wouldn’t be there for him.”

His arms stretched before him of their own volition, long fingers wrapping around her upper arms. “Betty,” he breathed, willing her eyes to meet his. “I know you wouldn’t have done any of those things. It wasn’t because of you that I didn’t tell you. I was embarrassed and ashamed and million other things that I have no explanation for at the moment.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t step out of his grasp. “I just don’t understand, Jug. What changed?”

“Nothing! And everything, I guess. It was supposed to be different. It was all supposed to be different this year. We were gonna get control of the Blue and Gold and fill out college applications at Pop’s over milkshakes and burgers and…”

Betty looked up at him, tears clinging to her lashes, vestiges of her party makeup smeared around her eyes. “And what, Jug?”

“And,” he swallowed, unable to help the thumb that had crept up to wipe the mascara away. “And I was finally going to work up the nerve to tell you how I feel.”

He could feel the laser focus of her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the thudding of her heart under his fingertips. “What?” Her voice came just above a whisper.

“To ask you to be my date to homecoming and winter formal and prom; to ask you to be mine.” Jughead’s hand slid from her arm to her waist, pulling her closer to him in the process.

“That’s not fair,” she trembled beneath his fingers, chin wobbling and shiny eyed.

“Betts,” his thumb dipped to her chin, angling her face up to his, “this wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Which part? The part where you have feelings for me or the part where you’re leaving tomorrow? Because right now, both of those things hurt the same.”

“I know. I know, and there’s nothing I can do to change how it came out but,” he could feel the air sucking into her lungs they were that close. “I can only say I’m sorry for one of those things, Betty, because as awkward or poorly timed as this is, it’s led to this. You and me. In this moment.”

Her eyes were wide “You have no idea, do you? How long I waited for this, how badly I wanted this.”

“I’m still right here, Betty.”

“Yeah, but for what? A few more hours?” Her hands grasped at the fabric of his shirt. Stretched out on tip-toe, her lips landed gently on his cheek. “All I wanted tonight was to finally be brave enough to kiss you. I never imagined our first kiss could be a goodbye, and honestly, I just don’t think I can do that to myself.”

She slid out of his arms, his fingers flexing on her skin. Words to keep her there flew through his brain—screamed through his veins—and yet he simply let her fall away. His fingers traced where her lips burned his cheek and wondered if he would have survived the phantom feeling if she’d kissed his lips. The sight before him nearly choked him. His mind latched on to the creases in her dress, the patterns of mascara on her tear-stained cheeks, her jasmine perfume that hovered around them and stuck to him long after he finally moved from the spot.

July 8

Jughead woke before the dawn. Never much of a sleeper, he found it exceedingly difficult when the image of her turning away from him played over and over in his mind. The ancient hot water tank couldn’t produce a stream scalding enough to burn it from his mind either. He stewed in his own thoughts, typing out and subsequently deleting about a hundred different messages to his blonde haired best friend, but couldn’t find it in him to send a single one.

No platitudes seemed enough, and what good would it serve? Maybe it would be easier to be in Toledo if she hated him or if he thought she did. He threw his head back on the couch (the one they wouldn’t need in Toledo, where he’d have a real bed, in a room all his own) and tried to remember what the world was like before Betty Cooper looked at him like he was a leper.

His downward spiral didn’t get to progress too far before the sound of an approaching car snapped him back to reality. He peeked out the bare window, the sight before him bringing a smile to his face.

“So this is really it,” Archie sniffed, standing beside him, a cup of half drank Pop’s coffee between his palms.

Jughead nodded, taking a slow sip of his own coffee, trying not to choke on the words and feelings that seemed to lodge in his throat. “Thanks for the pick me up and the donuts. Those might make it to the state line.”

Laughing, Archie knocked his shoulder into Jughead’s. “I’m gonna miss you, man.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Arch.” The cup stilled at his lips again. “Have you, um, talked to Betty at all?”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He ran over to his dad’s truck and reached through the open window, producing a large tupperware from inside. “She didn’t say much; she didn’t have to. She looks about as good as you do.”

Jughead chuckled morosely as he took the proffered container. Perched on top, folded as neatly as could be and inscribed with her exacting script was a note addressed to him. He sucked in a breath, shakily peeling it off and tucking it into his pocket before prying open a corner and seeing a rather large chunk of her birthday cake inside.

“She knows me too well,” he set it down on the hood of his dad’s truck, shaking his head. “I really fucked up this time.”

Archie grinned.

“What? That makes you happy?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, it does not make me happy. None of this is exactly happy, Jug. But the fact that for once in our lives the ire of Betty Cooper is directed, in its entirety, at you is not something that is lost on me. Now, let me bask in this short-lived glory, because I’m going to be the shoulder she cries on when all of this sinks in.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he swallowed down the last sip of bitter coffee with the bile that started to rise. “Just tell her…”

“She knows.”

He nods, somber, letting the words and feeling sink in. Coffee finished and goodbyes thoroughly dispensed, the Andrews men departed Sunnyside and left the Joneses to start their new lives.

“You ready for this, son?” His father asked as they slid into the truck. Even though the sun was barely up, FP seemed energized; happy. He smiled despite himself.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“A new chapter for us, boy. Hell, a new story all together! I know it doesn’t seem like it right now but, it’ll get better, I promise.”

His father’s hand rested on his shoulder for a moment before making its way back to the wheel. Jughead sighed, head hitting the window with a dull thud. “Yeah, well, it can’t get any worse.”

As the truck pulled away from the trailer park, and he watched as Riverdale shrank behind them in the mirror, he wondered if the note in his pocket would ever stop burning or if the ache in his chest would ever cease.

#bughead #bughead fanfic #songfic writing challenge #there's some pining #and some angst #but appropriate levels of teenage angst #just a little summertime sadness #with a not so happy ending

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cherriescroquetandarchery · 5 years

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#Choni or #Madnessa

I was asked about a perfect date today - oh here. I decided to write my two most romantic ideas. Then I thought…..I should turn them into two little sweet one shots either Choni or Madnessa? Thoughts.

🌼 💛🌼☀️💛🌼☀️💛🌼☀️💛🌼 ☀️💛🌼☀️ Idea # 1 I’m dreaming of Sweetwater, picnics, under spring trees…just her and me. Photos and giggles, tentative touches and almost shy fumbling of fingers on buttons. The softest breeze, ticking our skin…and feeling her brush my hair away. Feeding each other strawberries and cherries. Watching the clouds sail by….listening to music on Pandora. A good make out session…listening to the bumble bees 🐝 buzzing over the hazy afternoon. I’d bring my sketch pad and maybe be able to do some drawing. There would be laugher and hand holding. And just being together enjoying our time…until the day drew to a close. 🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙 Idea # 2 A drive through the county, playing music, our hair flying from the wind of the sunroof. The sunshine streaming in through the windows and feeling her hand holding mine. I’d sing 🎵 for her…suggest going down to the state park, where we could go wadding and swimming…in the river. And even though she says, ‘wait but we don’t have bathing suits!’ I’d just smirk and say…’we’re both girls we’ll just go in our bra’s and underwear.’ And she’d blush and I’d say ‘ do you object?’ And she’d just laugh. Shake her head and smile. And we’d keep driving the road winding, laugher and kisses on cheeks at stop lights….till we get to the park and she winds her fingers with mine. Down to the swimming hole, and stripping down to our undergarments. And rushing into the water giggling…playing under the waterfall…kissing, as it cascades around us….until we can’t anymore…tears of joy, in my eyes and her arms around me. Heck with a romantic spirit like this tell me how I don’t get dates lol! 😅 ♥️🍒💚🐍♥️🍒💚🐍♥️🍒💚🐍♥️🍒💚🐍 Who would be taking whom on the date? Cheryl or Toni. Mads or Nessa? #riverdalefanfiction #romanticpicnic #cherylblossom #tonitopaz #sunshine #springtime #mysecretconfessions #girlfriendgoals #truelove #lovemeliketonilovescheryl #neverenough #amilliondreams #riverdalefanfiction #romanticpicnic #cherylblossom #tonitopaz #sunshine #springtime

#madessa #choni #perfect date one shots #cheryl bombshell #toni topaz #cheryl x toni #madeline petsch #vanessa morgan

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

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12 Things You Should Know About SweetWater Brewing Company

West Coast-style beer first flowed into Atlanta when Freddy Bensch and Kevin McNerney opened SweetWater Brewing Company in 1997. The hoppy, resinous brews were heavily influenced by the co-founders’ previous brewing experiences in California and Colorado — along with a certain herb that’s popular there.

Starting out selling growlers out of an old Honda station wagon, and guided by the brand philosophy “don’t float the mainstream,” SweetWater made a splash on college campuses, and soon began flowing in Atlanta bars. The brewery has spent nearly a quarter-century crafting out-of-the-ordinary ales (and lagers) that ultimately secured it a spot among the top craft brewing companies in the U.S., at No. 14 as of 2020.

Ready to swim against the current? Dive in with these 12 things to know about SweetWater Brewing Company.

SweetWater brews with sticky herbs.

From its long running flagship, 420 Extra Pale Ale, to more recent labels such as Hop Hash Easy IPA and the limited-edition Fresh Sticky Nugs, there’s a clear thread throughout SweetWater’s hoppy, heady beers. (Hint: It’s weed.) It even has a special series of beers dedicated to the medicinal herb, with each beer made to harness the aroma, flavor, and theoretical vibes of various marijuana strains, naming each release according to its corresponding strain.

SweetWater’s weed-inspired series launched in 2018 with G13 IPA, designed to simulate the flavors of the marijuana strain of the same name. Brewed with Simcoe and Columbus hops, the beer also features G13-strain terpenes and hemp flavors. Four other beers later joined the series: Mango Kush Wheat Ale, Trainwreck Hazy Double IPA, Super Silver Haze Lager, and Jack Herer Harvest Ale, named for a cannabis activist.

The 420 Strain Series is like a liquid family reunion.

Hops, or Humulus lupulus, are believed to share ancestry with Cannabis sativa (marijuana). Humulus and Cannabis are two genera in the family Cannabaceae. Both share similar scents and tastes, and SweetWater has been determined to celebrate this heady connection.

(Disclaimer: The ingredients only lend to flavor and aroma. Since there’s no THC, no one’s getting high off the 420 Strain Series. That’s either good news or bad news depending on how you look at it.)

SweetWater arrived in Atlanta with Olympic-level expectations.

Bensch and McNerney met while attending the University of Colorado and scrubbing kegs at local breweries. They graduated and parted ways, Bensch going to California to study brewing and McNerney taking up brewing jobs around Colorado. A few years later, in the summer of 1996, Bensch packed his dog and everything he owned into his van and drove to Atlanta. The city was preparing for the Olympic games, an epic event that made the city shine.

The buzz of activity around the Olympic games appealed to Bensch, who saw an opportunity to bring West Coast-style craft beer to a new corner of the country that had not been exposed to it. While there were a few small breweries operating in the city at the time, the craft beer scene was still pretty fresh — and open to possibilities. He called up McNerney and told him to come east so they could open a brewery. McNerney made his way to Atlanta, and the pair started building out the space to open less than a year later.

Its flagship docked on a special date.

For three and a half months, Bensch and McNerney brewed up a storm. But they had to wait for the perfect day to brew what would eventually become their flagship pale ale: April 20, 1997. Bensch and McNerney brewed 420 Extra Pale Ale with Cascade and Centennial hops, two hop varietals that originated in the Pacific Northwest that deliver floral, herbal, and fresh aromas and flavors. They doubled down by dry-hopping — remember, this was almost 25 years ago — amplifying the aroma with Cascade hops to add a bit of citrus to the mix.

The flavorful but easy-drinking brew grew in popularity fast. By 2002, it had earned a silver medal at the Great American Beer Festival, which hosts the largest beer competition in the country.

SweetWater to the rescue?

The original brewery opened in a West Atlanta warehouse located on Fulton Industrial Boulevard. The space had previously served as a 911 emergency dispatch center. That meant, for one, they probably had to sage the place. Other than that, there was a lot to do to turn it into a fully operational brewery.

Bensch, McNerney and their first employees got their hands dirty building out the location. Whatever they could do themselves, they did it. They installed plumbing, set up the glycol, and even wired the electrical system. It took a lot of hard work but Bensch, McNerney and their small team pulled it all together in time for their first brew in January of 1997.

Save water, drink beer.

All brewers need good, clean water. Bensch, who studied environmental sciences at the University of Colorado — and then, you know, named his brewery after a local waterway — is keenly aware of this. That’s why in 2006 SweetWater launched its Save Our Water initiative, partnering with nonprofits like Waterkeeper Alliance to raise money toward protecting rivers, bays, sounds, and other bodies of water locally and around the country.

In 2019, the brewery crafted a summer seasonal, Kick Plastic Lager, in collaboration with Costa sunglasses, as a way to raise money for water conservation groups. A percentage of profits from the beer’s sales went to Waterkeeper Alliance, Coastal Conservation Association, and Trout Unlimited.

‘Stop that truck! They stole our beer!’

In 2016, a thirsty thief stole two full trailers of SweetWater beer. They basically just drove off with them from the brewery’s parking lot early one morning and nearly got away with 3,300 cases of 420 Extra Pale Ale, SweetWater IPA, Goin’ Coastal IPA, and Take Two Pils.

Thanks to GPS tracking, the brewers were able to locate the trailers: one at another warehouse while the other was at a private home; both were empty. Eventually, with help from Atlanta police, about 20,000 of the missing 78,000 bottles were found. All of it had to be dumped, unfortunately, since no one knew where that beer had been. The rest of the missing beer was never found so either someone drank 58,000 bottles of beer themselves or they had a heck of a party.

Some beers stay fresh nugs, others grow into trees.

When SweetWater expanded its brewery in 2016, it made room for The Woodlands Project, a barrel-aging program that allows brewers to experiment with aging beers in giant oak casks called foeders (pronounced foo-der). That facility, located right next to the production brewery, houses six of these, each designed to hold 88 hectoliters (about 2,325 gallons). All together, the towering barrels are capable of aging almost 13,950 gallons of what will eventually become funky-fresh sours and Belgian-style farmhouse ales. (There are also hundreds of other regular-sized barrels in the “woodlands.”)

Six limited-release brews, including Sinner’s Son, a bourbon barrel-aged imperial stout, and Through the Brambles, a blackberry sour, have come from The Woodlands thus far.

A kayak trip inspired the brewery’s name.

During his initial visit to Atlanta, Bensch says he found inspiration while kayaking down a creek. It was (wait for it) the Sweetwater Creek, a tributary to the Chattahoochee River. He chose to name the brewery after the creek, and to camel-cap the “W” in the brand name, to emphasize the very precious ingredient used to brew their beer: water.

Sweetwater Creek State Park, located where the creek flows past the George H. Sparks Reservoir, is a destination for fishing, hiking, and kayaking. It’s located just a few miles from the brewery’s original location.

What’s with the fish?

It’s a rainbow trout, actually, and his name is Trouser. Bensch and McNerney, and many of their early employees, spent a lot of their time together fishing and drinking beer. So when it was time to design labels for the beers they brewed, it made sense to plaster an image of their favorite fish on the bottle. To this day, most of SweetWater’s packages feature a rainbow trout in some form or another. Believe it or not, the fish also has its own theme song.

SweetWater throws a massive, grassy festival every year.

SweetWater hosted its first 420 Fest in 2004, headlined by jam band Tea Leaf Green. Every year since then, the brewery has invited fans from far and wide to join in on the fun on or around April 20 (420). The event takes place at Centennial Olympic Park and draws more than 50,000 people each year, according to the Atlanta Business Chronicle.

The 2020 festival has been canceled but SweetWater has already scheduled the next 420 Fest for April 23 through 25, 2021.

‘SweetWater, with a splash of SweetWater, please.’

In early 2020, SweetWater confirmed that the brewery is looking to get into the booze business. The brewery got its liquor license approved, which gives it the ability to craft and sell spirits from its current location. What and how SweetWater will be distilling is still to be determined.

The article 12 Things You Should Know About SweetWater Brewing Company appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/sweetwater-brewing-420-beer-guide/

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delfinamaggiousa · 4 years

Text

12 Things You Should Know About SweetWater Brewing Company

Ready to swim against the current? Dive in with these 12 things to know about SweetWater Brewing Company.

SweetWater brews with sticky herbs.

The 420 Strain Series is like a liquid family reunion.

SweetWater arrived in Atlanta with Olympic-level expectations.

Its flagship docked on a special date.

The flavorful but easy-drinking brew grew in popularity fast. By 2002, it had earned a silver medal at the Great American Beer Festival, which hosts the largest beer competition in the country.

SweetWater to the rescue?

Save water, drink beer.

‘Stop that truck! They stole our beer!’

Some beers stay fresh nugs, others grow into trees.

Six limited-release brews, including Sinner’s Son, a bourbon barrel-aged imperial stout, and Through the Brambles, a blackberry sour, have come from The Woodlands thus far.

A kayak trip inspired the brewery’s name.

What’s with the fish?

SweetWater throws a massive, grassy festival every year.

The 2020 festival has been canceled but SweetWater has already scheduled the next 420 Fest for April 23 through 25, 2021.

‘SweetWater, with a splash of SweetWater, please.’

The article 12 Things You Should Know About SweetWater Brewing Company appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/sweetwater-brewing-420-beer-guide/

source https://vinology1.wordpress.com/2020/10/09/12-things-you-should-know-about-sweetwater-brewing-company/

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thelostchronicles · 1 year

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Conception

I am moving over into the mentality of ESO here for foreign entities to become involved, not American, this is real writing, it is very weird in the notion of the mindset that many understand in man and woman. I have seen this before in other parts of the Internet, there is no link for this, the conception in the current ESO groups is there are no permanent groups, not that that can't be permanent, it is just seen that the obstacles of life are repeating itself from past experiences seen in life. I am seeing three females in the ESO groups that have been picked out to save humanity whether they themselves or the outside groups that look into ESO as a place of peace and solstice. The problem seen in the three groups is that the main hosts are women and the outside people mostly seen as males surrounding the three females, it is not a good thing because this is seen as a bad thing even if they do not see the inner meaning. The seen thing by the males staying regularly just with the females is a bad thing, it is like males staying with a female, not a good thing, if I saw a female in one group with all females, that would be fine; however the current seen situation from past experiences is of adultery, that is a bad term, the first female is wonderful, she is married, that is a good thing, the second female is from Australia and it is unknown whether she is married or not, I have no problems with males hanging out with a female; however I must see a female with the notion of only females in order for better mindset, the third has been presented as a possible spouse, but that is unknown whether she is married also in life. The meaning behind having three groups presented for ESO for the completion of High Isle. The three females do not have to end up with me, but one female has to end up with me which could happen at a moments notice, the point of having three groups is to provide a 24 hour connection for those interested in ESO and connecting the world throughout the Internet which is known as a wire or in better terms called the Web. If this does not get resolved, look at the point of the Internet failing which means there is no more Internet which people cannot live, you would've thought a female would have already came to me; however that has not happened, the point is going to have to be made clearer as more stricter guidelines, the people in the groups are good people, the things just have not become aligned yet and communications have not been established, I am afraid to even ask if the two would like to be married to me as the other males in the two other groups are seen as a blockage that has came from past experiences, I will take any female as a wife to have children, but it is not foreseen in the immediate future unless she communicates to me that that is her intentions or is lead to communicate with me in terms of a marriage bond, that is an easy thing to do, so it is hoped that these things do become aligned. If you are still reading this, do you know how important it is that this is being written that I have conceived the notion from past experiences that the possibility of the people in the two other groups are in potential adultery? Look into this further, someone who shrugs off something like this as nothing and continues to stay will hinder not only themself but me as well. Earlier tonight, I watched two different groups, it was very hurtful, it was like everyone not listening to what was going on or what was supposed to happen. The conception of adultery is sick, so I am paying attention to the groups very closely in the hopes this will not happen, the first group is totally fine because the host is married, once I know someone is married, that works and can move on and the female interested can move on with me, the earlier seen gameplay in Sweetwater Cascades is my own house in ESO, the gameplay from username terrwyn16, the group went into the scene of the animation, the house was different from the original creation of the house, I was at the house while they were at the house at same time.

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bughead-is-riverdale · 7 years

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Riverdale Imagine: Guilty?

SURPRISE - Guilty? Prequel (Jason x reader) Guilty? Part 2 Guilty? Part 3

Summary: Before his ‘disappearance’, the reader, Cheryl, and Jason were best friends. There was only one secret that the reader and Jason have kept from Cheryl and that secret gives the reader a motive for his murder.

Approx. 1100 words

“... that I’m guilty.”

Guilty? My head snapped up. I had barely noticed Sheriff Keller and Principle Weatherbee enter the classroom, I was too busy scribbling along the top of my biology textbook, but I never noticed much these days. The girl in front of me had stood up and was holding her hands out as if she was going to be arrested, with a stab of panic I realised it was Cheryl Blossom. I saw her bite down on her lip to stop it from quivering violently as Sheriff Keller led her from the classroom with his hand on her elbow. Her strawberry-blonde curls lightly brushed over her shoulder and tumbled down her back as she glanced back to look at me. The glance was momentary but I understood its meaning – I’ll cover you.

The room around me seemed to erupt like a torrent of water as Cheryl was led away. I put my fingers to my temples as I tried to ignore my classmates, you would almost think people in Riverdale were glad of his death as it provided our sleepy town with an endless stream of gossip. Murder was certainly a more interesting topic than binge-drinking teenagers, or adulterous housewives, or even the South Side Serpents. Despite my attempts to remain aloof however, I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach as the sound of gossip swirled around me. Sooner or later someone in this town would discover my connection to him, someone will find out that I had motive to put that bullet through Jason Blossom’s head.

I dug my nails sharply into my hand in an attempt to alleviate the emotional pain that I felt at the thought of him, his name. The bell rang at that moment and I snatched my books off my desk at lightning speed, almost stumbling on my way out of the classroom as I rushed outside into the open air. Leaning against the cool red brick school building, I slowly took in a breath, sensing the dull ache of my ribcage as I tried to hold myself together emotionally. Before Jason’s ‘disappearance’ on the 4th of July, Cheryl and I had been best friends. We were the joint leaders of the River Vixens, the most popular girls in school, I even shared a birthday with her and Jason – people used to joke that we were triplets. The three of us trusted one another completely and shared every secret, which was the reason why Jason would only trust Cheryl and I to help him fake his death, he was never supposed to actually die.

“Y/N? Are you OK?”

I opened my eyes lazily and was greeted by the worried expression of my only other real friend in the world, Jughead Jones. I smiled weakly and nodded.

“Yeah I’m fine Jug. Just a little tired.”

“Want to go to Pop’s? I’ll buy you a milkshake.”

I checked my phone; it was 3:45pm. I guessed that Cheryl would be at least an hour with Sheriff Keller and after that she would have her parents to deal with. I knew she would be waiting for me at midnight by Sweetwater River, just as we had previously planned in case anything like this happened. She had warned me that texting was a bad idea – the sheriff’s department could always seize our phone records.

“Sure, as long as you’re paying.” I replied.

At Pop’s I felt hunted, like every pair of eyes was a predator stalking my every move. Was this how it felt to be guilty? My hands shook as I fiddled with my glass, I tried digging my nails into my palm again to make the shaking stop but my body just wasn’t listening. The gentle tapping of Jughead’s laptop keys was soothing however, I knew he was writing a novel about Jason’s murder but I didn’t mind, at least it meant he was distracted from what was actually going on with me. I glanced up as the bell at the door chimed its familiar sound and Betty walked inside. My heart sank as she saw me and Jughead, approached our booth, and sank down beside Jughead and directly opposite me. She looked so much like her sister Polly that it physically hurt. They had the same green eyes, arched eyebrows, and blonde hair which they both pulled back into a slick ponytail. All the heartbreak of the summer rushed back and my eyes began to swim with tears as I remembered Jason’s words. I cheated on you...

“Hi Betty, I’m really sorry but I have to go. I told Mum that I would be home by 6pm.” I hoped that she didn’t hear the croak in my voice as I choked out my pathetic excuse.

“No problem Y/N. Catch you later?” she asked.

I smiled and nodded as I grabbed my jacket. I thanked Jughead for the milkshake and headed to the door. I checked my phone again; it was 5:55pm. I still had six hours to get through before Cheryl told me what had happened in the sheriff’s office. Six hours before I had to give her an explanation, a real one this time.

12:03am

Despite September being usually warm, I could see my breath in the moonlight as my breathing quickened, I pulled my jacket around me tightly. Although the distant gushing of Sweetwater River used to be comforting, a welcome background noise, it sounded threatening now as the tide beat rocks and sand against the bank. I whipped around as I heard a twig snap somewhere behind me. Cheryl was standing there with a torch, her silhouette appearing almost ghost-like in the artificial glow as her hair cascaded around her pale face. She had been crying, her eyes were red-rimmed and surrounded by black smudges.

“Before I tell you anything”, she choked out, “I want the truth.”

My eyes widened in shock as I realised what she was thinking. My best friend, who was practically my sister, was about to ask me –

“Did you kill him Y/N?”

Before I could stop myself I cried out in pain, wrapping my arms around my torso as I felt my legs give way. Crouched on the floor, I inhaled the scent of dirt, rotting leaves, and rainwater. This woodland was where Jason and I would secretly meet, sheltered away from the prying eyes of Riverdale’s gossip, where we would meet without Cheryl. That was before everything happened, before he told me what he had done, before Polly...

“No, Cheryl”, I whimpered, “I would never kill Jason. I was in love with him.”

#riverdale #riverdale imagines #riverdale imagine #reader x #cheryl blossom #jason blossom #betty cooper #jughead #jughead jones #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fic #riverdale series #reader x jason #reader x jason blossom #archie andrews #riverdale core four #riverdale characters #riverdale mini series

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