#creativecat

It's official. Apartment hunting in New York City is The Worst ™. Somehow, every place is so far out of Betty's and Jughead's budget it's laughable, smaller than the closet he slept in during sophomore year, comes readymade with an army of creepy crawly roommates, is in a useless (for business) location, or some combination of each. When Blue and Gold Investigations stumbles onto a suspiciously (too) nice, vacant, AND affordable flat in a prime real estate location during a case, Betty and Jughead know it's too good to be true. As "luck" would have it, it happened to have been the sight of a series of some rather violent unsolved murders, making no one want to live there-no matter how cheap the purchase price. Until now. A murder apartment? That's practically their idea of romance. Plus, someone was finally back on the unsolved case.

I’ve been fighting with one arm behind my back. What happens when I’m finally set free?

When Coop, an isolated member of the Kree Starforce in search of answers about the decidedly non-Kree dreams (memories?) she's been having, finds herself stranded on earth after crash-landing her ship in pursuit of the-allegedly-evil Skrulls and what exactly they know about her, she soon learns nothing about her life is as it seems. Only with the help from earth-dweller, self-professed weirdo, and conspiracy theorist (Is it still a conspiracy theory if it turns out to be right, though?), Jughead Jones, an unlikely alliance with S.H.I.E.L.D agent, Nick Fury, reuniting with her long lost best friend, Josie McCoy, and embracing the truth of who she truly is will she be able to save the day.

So much for dreaming. You can’t be whatever you want. All I’ll ever be is a slow, pale, hunched-over, dead-eyed zombie. What did I think was gonna happen? That Betty would actually want to stay with me? It’s hopeless. This is what I get for wanting more. I should just be happy with what I had. Things don’t change. I need to accept that. It’s easier not to feel. Then I wouldn’t have to feel like this.

It is a dark time for the galaxy. In an effort to snuff out all opposition, the GALACTIC EMPIRE, led by EMPRESS SWEETT and DARTH ZEID, has been systematically hunting down and capturing all Force sensitives.

Trapped and unable to evade the Empire’s sinister agents, PRINCESS ELIZABETH COOPER hid a cache of lightsabers so they would avoid the inevitable destruction upon her capture.

As all hope appears lost, smuggler JUGHEAD JONES is inextricably drawn to accept the risk and handsome reward to rescue her while unaware it is nothing more than a trap…

May the Fourth be With You!

@riverdalebingo: Space Star Wars AU (more below the cut)

This is who I am. It was just finally admitting the truth to myself. Well, that and murdering some people.

In a day where Betty discovered not only was Santa Claus real, but through a series of unusual events and something called The Santa Clause, she was to become the new Santa, somehow this was the least believable part of her new life.

“Wait a minute. You’re the Head Elf? You’re not, well, you’re not exactly what I would expect.”

“Spend a lot of time thinking about what you believed were imaginary people in an undetectable world, did you? Wow. Okay.”

“I’m serious. Everyone else looks and acts straight out of every Christmas movie I’ve ever seen, and you’re the poster child– sorry, elf—for every piece of Anti-Christmas merchandise at Hot Issue.”

“I think you’ll find I’m wearing all required parts of the so-called ‘elf uniform.’”

Her head elf, Jughead—ohmygod, those are all words which are now somehow normal, what even is life—pointed first to his boots.

“Boots? Check. While they may not have a bell or be military grade spit shined, they are steel toe and black.”

Next, Jughead grabbed onto the suspenders hanging off of his pants. “Suspenders? Check. On special occasions, you might even catch me wearing them on my shoulders.” He leaned in as though to whisper a secret, “I’ll leave you in suspense over that possibility though.”

It struck her at this moment that she was not the first person he had given some variation of this speech to. Not being liked for who you were and being told to be someone else was something Betty related to on a cellular level.

“Standard issue Christmas colors? Check. I believe you’ll find my flannel to contain several shades of green & hints of coal. My red S shirt? Well, I’m pretty sure ‘Santa’ starts with an ‘s.’ I’m practically walking propaganda for you in these clothes.”

“And I can’t forget the most important elf item: the hat. You’ll notice the brim is even adorned a bit with pattern and pins. I really take the head elf ‘dress code’ to heart.”

While it was true that he was, in fact, wearing a hat, it wasn’t like any hat she’d ever seen in general–let alone any elf hat. At first glance, it looked like a standard grey knit beanie, but when she got closer, she could see what appeared to be a crown-shaped brim with several little pins on it.

Huh. Come to think of it, the little jagged pattern did seem to be prevalent on a lot of Christmas themed hats both here & non-North Pole places. (At this, she made a note to herself to ask what “the real world” was called.)

“Look, I get it if it’s a little weird right now, and you wouldn’t be the first Santa not to like it or me. But—“

“Another year, another possible murder mystery only being looked into by two students...in dress robes no less. If only we went to a school where that wasn’t the case.” 

“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can head back to the Yule Ball where you can happily consume your weight in fruit trifle and butterbeer, thus giving us the perfect alibi. Someone saw Jughead Jones at the buffet double fisting Christmas tarts? No one’s questioning that.” 

“I knew my appetite would come in handy one day. I wasn’t exactly expecting it to be in the form of helping to solve international magical crimes, but beggars can’t be choosers in our line of ‘work.’” 

A wry smile crossed each of their faces as they contemplated both the utter truth and absurdity of their situation. By all merits, they had no business being the only ones to look into the sudden, and shoddily explained, disappearances of students from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons during this Triwizard Tournament, and yet it was precisely the one Betty & Jughead found themselves in. Someone—or someones, considering the multiple schools & Ministry Officials involved—was toeing the party line. There was international magical cooperation, and then there was...whatever this was. Last he checked, covering up disappearances with a possible side of murder and kidnapping wasn’t entirely on the up and up. Needless to say, something wasn’t right. Kids were vanishing, and the people with the power and resources to look into such things were not doing so. 

Betty and Jughead were no strangers to investigating something despite the whole world telling them not to, and as they crept through the halls of Hogwarts to their destination–wands at the ready and hands entwined—they knew this Christmas and school year was going to be no different.

“No rest for the wicked, Betty.”

“Not in a wicked castle anyway.” 

Though it pained him, the creature had to be killed, and he had to be the one to do it. It was a monster—the killer he was meant to be.

Doctor Lodgenstein had at last acquired the brain of a murderer. His malevolent goal to create the ultimate weapon would finally come to fruition in the twisted facade of a human. 

Tightening his white-knuckled grip on the bar he’d ripped from his own cage, Jughead prepared to face his end. Nearly every shred of hope was lost, but if there was one thing he could use his futile existence for it should be—would be—this. He would give into the violence he had been shaped to commit. 

Seconds passed in slow motion as the buzz of electricity began to fill the air. He took in a deep breath, oxygen expanding like glass in his misbegotten lungs, as a crack of light sparked to the spires powering the same chair he had been born from. 

It was time.

He stepped around the corner, weapon raised and at the ready, only to have the burning air ripped from his chest as his gaze found a pair of eyes that spoke to every fiber of his being. His heart throbbed with a warmth, a pace, a fervor, that he hadn’t felt in all its beats. It wasn’t wicked prey who had been made before him, but the other half of his soul.

Her. She. 

His.