serpent juliet


Last Login:
June 7th, 2023

Gender: Female

Age: 30
Country: United States

Signup Date:
July 12, 2018


02/17/2023 10:33 PM 

when we go down together.

betty cooper
violent delights
with violent ends
When she took another hesitant drink from the glass that she clutched between her quivering hands in her lap, she just nodded as the only response she deemed necessary or was capable of mustering as she did so. While he talked, she slowly curled and uncurled her fingers over the glass. She clung to his words as he served as a reminder that she had fled and was no longer being kept against her will, and it was one of the most crucial things to grasp onto when everything else seemed so overwhelming.

'You're still you.'

Betty mulled over the words in her thoughts, aware that she did not fully believe them; nonetheless, she felt a softness residing in her breast that suggested he believed them and was fighting for her when she did not feel strong enough to do it for herself. As he came to lay next to her, unlike in the past, she found herself wanting the security of his proximity once again. She automatically leaned into him as her knee rested against his, and she craved the comfort of his proximity. She was aware of his gaze on her, but she kept hers fixed on his hands spread out on his legs. This provided her with an alternative point of focus that was less unsettling and made her feel less exposed to meeting his eyes. When he said he didn't care what their plan had been, there was a familiar flare of spirited defensiveness ready to fight back. He implied that it somehow trivialized what she'd gone through if it was all for nothing. However, he continued until he posed the obvious question to her, to which he certainly already knew the answer.

She finally glanced up, eyes searching, and a ghostly smile pulled lightly at the corners of her lips as she remembered the route of memories with him interspersed in the photos over the whole of her existence beside the grinning boy with red hair who was her best friend. "To some extent, we all grew up together" she finally accepted it, even as she could feel his trademark sarcasm coating her words. But, the comfort of their shared sense of humor was one of the first normal emotions she'd had in days.

The single giggle not only broke the stillness but also loosened the tight tightness of her muscles as she finally relaxed against him once again. An involuntary scoff of amusement occurred as a result of the situation. It was not a secret to either of them exactly how obstinate they could be; yet, she did not see her own stubbornness as necessarily a strength until now, when he framed it for her. Neither of them could hide the fact that they could be stubborn. She followed the movement of his hand as it made its way to her wrist, and as she did so, she became much less concerned about the glass that she was still holding. Instead, she let go of one of her hands and grabbed hold of his hand in order to pull his arm back around her, after which she nested herself against his chest and closed her eyes. "Even if that's the case, you're helping to put an end to all this noise and making me feel like myself again, Jug," she said. She confessed it, her tone gentle as she concentrated on hearing his pulse with her head pressed against his chest. Her voice was no longer riven with the anguish and sense of failure she had felt before.
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow

02/11/2023 12:29 PM 


serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

That if I can't be close to you I'll settle for the ghost of you I miss you more than life (more than life) And if you can't be next to me Your memory is ecstasy I miss you more than life

So if I can't get close to you I'll settle for the ghost of you But I miss you more than life
That if I can't be close to you
Betty has no recollection of Polly's funeral. But not because her brain was gentle enough to blot out the trauma. She was too high on medications to notice anything. Veronica informs her that Alice yelled at her at the cemetery parking lot for being emotionless and uncaring. Betty, on the other hand, is concerned and wishes to dispute. That's why she's forcing herself not to feel anything. It's agonizing to feel. Numbness is simple.

"and," Veronica gently informed Betty when she has awoken on her enormous, luxurious sofa in the newly refurbished loft, "jughead had to take you out of there because alice was trying to shake you, and you wouldn't move." Grief presents itself in a variety of ways. Veronica tells her of this, practically rationalizing Alice's actions, attributing them to her sadness, and forgiving how it shows in a fury for her remaining daughter. "it's okay if you're mourning in different ways." But Betty knows better. And so does Jughead. That had to be why he was the one who led her away—he understood all the red flags and could see what she was attempting to hide from a mile away. Maybe it's because Jughead can still read her after all these years. The tiny, sad, fearful part of her yearns for that fiercely. The rational side, the one who desires numbing, understands that this is only because he is an addict himself. Why, Betty wonders, does that truth sting the most when she swallows a tablet she shakes out of a portable aspirin bottle? That dashed hope pierces her heart.

Betty discovers the pills by chance, tucked deep within her bag from when she took them for post-abduction injuries. Alice shouts at her once again, so she runs upstairs and gathers her bags to go—somewhere. And the small orange bottle begins to tremble. Without hesitation, Betty reaches under the bed, unscrews it, and dry-swallows three at once.

It's pure ecstasy.

It helps her fake her way by telling Juniper and Dagwood, through a somber conversation with Dr. Curdle, Jr., when he recommended a funeral home run by a mortuary school colleague by choosing Polly's outfit for the burial. Alice shrieks that it's all Betty's fault through the two-three-seven times.

Betty takes the remaining two pills from the bottle, tosses her things into a bag, and walks unsteadily across the driveway to knock on Archie's door, recalling his kind offer to stay at the home if she needed a break from it all.

Jughead is shocked and apprehensive when he answers the door, but as she slurs her request for a place to stay, all doubt fades from his expression. "are you okay?" he asks; she believes she hears him ask. "how's your mother?" she says before snapping that "my mother can go to hell and that she's perfectly well. i simply need to get some sleep away from her, and it's 3 a.m.," and she's bleary-eyed, checking the clock on the TV box from her tight living room couch.

Betty has a garish chenille blanket spread over her, possibly a Veronica buy, and pulled up just high enough to grip the edges in her hands and hug them close to her chest, as she does in her sleep. She simply knows Jughead placed it there.

Archie's own small orange bottle is in the garbage when she stumbles into the restroom. It's practically overflowing. Betty extracts a few and consumes them with a palmful of tap water.


It's all a blur until she wakes up on Veronica's couch, shaking and pill-less, and feeling painfully alone, days later. Betty sits in the empty, opulent apartment with a spare key and a cup of coffee on the glass end table, mistaking Veronica's stillness for a need for space. Betty desires to rip apart Veronica's immaculate medicine cabinet, but she knows better.

For herself, no. But she understands that since Jughead had to carry her out of the graveyard yesterday and knows why he's made it his mission to clear the spot of everything she may grab.

It's all right. Somewhat. She hasn't had enough time to become addicted; she's done her homework. Betty, on the other hand, is tired of feeling. And to do so, she must be either sleeping or high, or—no, those are her only two alternatives. Her phone rings wedged awkwardly in her suit slacks' pockets at the acute angle. Betty could cry with relief if it were Jughead.

"sorry for not being able to stay; i have an early shift. after that, i'll drop by."

Couldn't stay, which means... Had he remained with her here at Veronica's? This is what drives him back to her—that she missed their first hug in so many years because she was high out of her mind—feels like a strike to the gut. Betty scans the area for signs of Jughead's presence or a door to another room she can't see—it looks to be on the floor. Off to the side of the couch lies a mound of crumpled blankets and a squished sequin throw pillow.

Betty doesn't recall his touch in the cemetery. Still, she remembers all the other times' Jughead had stood by her when she was at her worst: marching into the Sisters with her all those years ago, letting her cry into his flannel as she told him through shaky sobs about the Black Hood phone calls, carrying her through the woods after Penelope put them through hell and killed Hal, soothing her after nightmares. The sight reminds Betty of him sleeping on the floor beside her of all the messed up things they've gone through together and how messed up her life has been—and continues to be. And how being near Jughead helped her feel a bit less insane. Betty chastises him for being sober. She can't be able to drag him back down. He shouldn't be sleeping on the floor to ensure his ex doesn't overdose on benzos.

On the other hand, Betty drags his pillow up to the couch and tucks it under her head. He's still using the same shampoo after all these years. It has a mild aroma that clings to the cloth and puts her to sleep in minutes.
I'll settle for the ghost of you,

02/08/2023 11:24 PM 


serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

Can I exhale for a minute? Can I get this out in the open? Can I sit down for a second? Can I breathe? Can I exhale for a minute? Can we talk it out? I don't get it Can I calm down for a moment? Can I breathe for just one second?

I put too much weight on words and glances I, I put too much weight on situations I, I put too much on myself Thinking "I don't deserve what I've earned", but yeah
Try to keep a sense of knowing who I am
Her inhales were erratic, and her exhales were enormous and shallow; it seemed as if she was gasping for oxygen and on the verge of hyperventilating. Her breathing had become strained. A weight was crushing down on her chest like the force of an iron fist on her breastbone, preventing her lungs from receiving oxygen. It felt like the force of an iron fist against her breastbone. A buzzing sound in her ears was distant at first, but it became louder as the cloud of haze settled into her brain. This caused the edges of her vision to blur and begin to become focused on a single point in the distance as her eyesight became more distorted. Betty was on the verge of having a full-blown panic attack because she was unable to breathe normally. This caused her body to go into survival mode and save energy, which meant that she would soon lose consciousness if she couldn't find a way to calm down.

Her leg muscles began to deteriorate, and she felt as if she would lose control of them. Simultaneously, she experienced a rapid onslaught of nausea and dizziness. She quickly blinked her eyes shut as she struggled to recover command of the errant thoughts that were speeding away from her. Betty could still make out the sound of Jughead's speech, but it was very faint and located somewhere on the perimeter of the growing sound in her ears, which had taken on the character of ringing in her ears as it became louder. It provided her with a focus point, allowing her to concentrate and try to channel the sound of his voice as he repeated the exact instructions repeatedly to assist her.

Even though tears had begun to form in the creases of her eyes and a wave of anxious panic was washing over her, which activated her body's autonomic stress responses, Betty forced herself to keep her eyes open as she looked for his to latch onto and pull her out of the depths of this attack. The woman's chest discomfort gradually started to subside as she was reassured repeatedly that she was going to be all right. She began gently nodding her head while tenaciously maintaining eye contact with the man. Her hiccuping breaths were timed to each nod of her head but became more steady as her body began to settle itself down and reduce its core temperature, leaving her cheeks flushed and blotchy from the abrupt surge in the alert. The clouds in her thoughts began to roll out. Even when a few stray tears slipped by and flowed down her hued cheeks, the dizziness started to decrease and eventually went away entirely. Still, Betty sensed that she was regaining control of herself as her hands clenched Jughead's forearms fiercely. She desperately needed any physical touch to help her feel more rooted in a feeling of reality.

He comforted her by assuring her that everything would be well, even though she did not feel alright. Even as he gently and hesitantly brought her into his arms, concerned about crowding her or straining her comfort level as she gradually became more aware of her surroundings again, he did it with great care and caution. Even if her intellect were able to formulate words that made sense, she was unable to speak because of the constriction that was still there in her throat. Instead, she concentrated on taking calm breaths as he held her. She could feel more tears beginning to flow, but this time she realized that they were coming from a more profound sense of lingering guilt and embarrassment for him having to see another one of her episodes. It was hardwired into her chromosomes to express regret, but she couldn't find the words to adequately describe how much of a burden she felt she was to him when things had gotten to this point.
Think I'm reaching my limits, yeah,

02/05/2023 11:19 PM 

Do Me A Favor? 2x17.

serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

Do Me A Favor?
Tommy, lately I've just not been feelin' right I'm so ashamed of how we've all Been treating Carrie White

Now I realize This is hardly your concern I hate to drag you into this But I've got nowhere else to turn
I've been thinking 'bout how happy she would be.
Waiting. Betty felt as though she had to hold her breath the entire night, whether it was trying to persuade her father to come home after he surprised both her and her mother with flowers before opening night or experiencing the pre-show jitters backstage with her best friends before her brother mysteriously appeared to ruin their fun. Betty was unprepared for the sensation and still needed to learn what she was anticipating beyond raising the curtain and the performance's first song. It wasn't a sensation she was used to having. After taking a long, hard look at herself through the lens of the characters they'd been cast as and recognizing her position regarding herself, things with Veronica were starting to seem normal again. This was made possible by the fact that a repair had been made. Through Veronica's portrayal of herself as a terrible girl, when she believed she had spent her whole life portraying herself as the kind girl next door.

The faults of Hiram and Hermione were not to be thrown at Veronica's feet, and she had lashed. She had lashed out more than once with the aim of hurting the other girl so badly, and what did it say about her? Of course, everything was forgiven in the eyes of the princess with the raven hair, and it didn't matter if the tables were turned at all; yet, Betty was probably wary about everything feeling how it should again. In addition to her unsettling impression about her brother, which she could not place clearly, she also saw that her parents were attempting to make peace, which was all she could have wished for. Betty finally felt as if she had both of her closest friends back in their appropriate positions when she saw that Archie and Veronica seemed happier than they had ever been together.

Starting from the very first dress rehearsal forward. Betty was never used to being in the spotlight, unlike Cheryl or Veronica, who appeared to be so well suited for the stage; however, it was fun for her to do her hair, do Sue's costume, and get to be someone other than Betty Cooper for a while. She had quickly rejected Kevin's offer to participate in the program when he initially contacted her about it. She had said that the fact that she liked singing in her bedroom did not imply that she should be forced to perform in front of a room full of strangers. Betty, too, had been bitten by the acting bug, and despite the high stakes and drama in their social circle, she was glad for the reason for everyone to come together, including the Serpents and when her mother had been cast as Carrie's mom in the play. Betty had also been bitten by the acting bug herself.

It was now, with her hair fanned out precisely to frame her face, as she watched from the wings while her mother sang her solo part for Midge's entrance from behind the staircase door. Midge was about to make her entry. After thanking Mr. Andrews at least a hundred times for all of the hard work that he'd put into the production from his own construction firm, Kevin's handiwork on the blocking turned out to be fantastic, and the sets turned out to be even better. Toni and the others were all loitering about, anxious to see the performance but simultaneously keeping disguised behind the curtain. All of a sudden, though, there were gasps from the crowd as the set came up, followed by a piercing yell from someone in the first rows of the audience. It was Cheryl's voice that screamed out for someone to save her, and suddenly everyone was pressing forward. Betty was dragged into the clutches of her castmates as everyone got sight of the horror of their buddy pinned to the blood-smeared wall with different sharp items.

When her mother yelled from across the stage, the whole auditorium was thrown into commotion, and she could feel her stomach sink. Instant disbelief, which had been sheltering her from the horror of the situation, was abruptly broken, and she could feel her stomach plummet. The lights were immediately turned off in order to prevent Midge's corpse from being left on display. Still, all of a sudden, everyone was pushing and shoving one another and rushing away to safety as a mob situation developed. Despite this, Betty discovered that she was making her way through the crowd, not away from the location of the crime but rather closer to the place where her friend's corpse lay still and unresponsive, covered in her own blood.
I've been thinking 'bout how happy she would be,

02/02/2023 12:01 PM 


serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

Let's be normal, see bad movies Sneak a beer and watch TV We'll bake brownies, or go bowling Don't you want a life with me?

People hurt us Or they vanish And you're right, that really blows But we let go Take a deep breath Then go buy some summer clothes We'll go camping Play some poker And we'll eat some chilli fries Maybe prom night, maybe dancing
Fine, we're damaged, really damaged.
When Betty finally comes upon Jughead and the Jones trailer in the junkyard, she is under no illusions as to the nature of the situation she is about to step into.

She flings open the door with a loud smash and glances around the room. There is laboratory equipment in every room. The odor of the chemical is pungent when she first breaths it in, and then it settles into her nose with a sharpness that is uncomfortable. To her right, Jughead has slid down deep into the sofa and is holding his head in his hands.

The painful awareness of what all of this entails is accompanied by a deafening quiet that itself is deafening. Betty is in a state of shock and is trying to figure out what she should do at this point. She had the need to go up to him, wrap her arms around him, and reassure him that they have made it through more terrible times together than this. But she isn't so confident this time around.

After that, Betty overhears him remark in a low voice, "It's not fair. It's not right, considering that we're just seventeen years old."

She is not taken aback by the contents of his speech; it is true that none of this is fair, and none of this is something they should be dealing with. She is not surprised. The fact that Jughead says anything at all is what takes her by surprise. Although no one admits it or even has the courage to declare it, Jughead has been dealt the worst hand of everyone in the game. It's possible that they're on similarly rough ground right now, but he's always had that instability.

Jughead stands up and starts pacing in the middle of the living room, which is fairly recognizable for its original use but now crowded with boxes and piles of bent folding chairs. "I spent my childhood in this house. It was trashed by my mother."

As she moves closer to him, she grabs hold of his trembling hands and brings them to her waist where she holds them there until he stops shaking. Before coming to rest, his fingers flex across the ribbed hem of her sweater and the exposed strip of flesh below it. The vibrations from his heartbeat travel through his hands and into her flesh, eventually fusing their hearts together into a single rhythm. Betty hears his sigh of relief at the same fraction of a time as she feels them come into rhythm. This is one of those little small things that seems difficult to detect and is unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

It is quite important to her. It serves as a constant reminder that Jughead is her co-conspirator in all of this; in fact, their bodies' most fundamental processes are even aware of this fact. She is aware that he feels it as well, albeit perhaps to a lesser extent in their day-to-day life together, but more so now, in the more difficult and perplexing situations in which he need anchoring. She can see the tears gathering in his eyes, and she is aware that she is experiencing the same thing herself. These days, it seems like someone is constantly sobbing over something. Or, if they aren't really sobbing, they feel the want to do so.

“Juggie?” His gaze is intently directed someplace beyond her head. His eyes are locked there. When she follows his gaze, she notices the exact location of the site where his "Rebel Without a Cause" poster used to be hung.

"What the hell are the chances of it happening? When did our lives go from being concerned about who would seat next to us on the bus to being concerned about the moms of drug lords?"

Betty scoffs at the idea and adds, "And serial killer dads. And unstoppable cults."

Jughead lets out a chuckle, but his inhalation is unsteady even as he does so. "God, what are we going to do?"

When she hears the words, Betty's heart begins to swell as she recalls the gentle look in his eyes from so many months ago, when they stood on this very same location and put words to the love that they had already felt for such a long time. She is aware that his pain over lost memories is more for ones like that than the ones of his boyhood that he has only ever recounted with a sour taste in his mouth. She knows this because she has seen him. When she informed him that she believed in him, he finally let out a breath of relief;

"Let's be normal, see bad movies

Sneak a beer and watch TV"
But that does not make us wise,

01/31/2023 01:21 PM 

Mad World.

serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

Mad World
All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for their daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses No expression, no expression Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow No tomorrow, no tomorrow
I find it hard to tell you.
As she worked on undoing and retying the knot she had created in the front of her light denim blue shirt, her eyes darted between the diamanté jewels that adorned the collar and the top two buttons. She'd wasted much too much time mulling over whether or not she should show some flesh by tying the scarf in a knot or tucking it inside her skirt instead. In the end, she decided to go with the second choice. She studied her evening attire, which she was aware was supposed to make her feel courageous and confident, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. She cocked her head to the side. As she gazed at herself in the full-length mirror once again, this time focusing on her pink skirt that was shorter than normal, her attention was immediately pulled to her hair. The worst aspect has had to be the ponytail situation.

Her hand reached up and grabbed the blonde hairband, which she then yanked off of her head. Betty Cooper was ready with only the hint of a grin, an upward movement of her lips, and the glide of her fingers through her hair.

After completing the last and final coat of mascara, Betty made her way downstairs. While checking that all of her personal belongings could fit in the little handbag, she became aware of a change in the room's atmosphere. It was dark and foreboding, nothing at all like the bright and cheery Cooper home.

Betty gave a timid nod as she fidgeted anxiously with the hems of her little skirt and top, well aware that her brand-new black underwear was on display for everyone to see (although it was only meant for one pair of eyes). The Cooper ladies, with the exception of Polly, made their big entrance. When they entered, it was almost as though everyone in the room immediately fell into complete silence. They were the focus of everyone's attention. Betty couldn't recall how long it had been since Alice had been in this bar, but it seemed like a significant chunk of time had passed during that absence. Betty turned her attention to the one and only person who was significant to her at that moment in time.

As the song quickly came to an end, Betty had no clue what was going on, and she watched as Veronica and Archie ran off the stage in opposite directions. During the time that she was performing, she was on stage. It seemed as if she was always going at a slower rate through the whole situation. Betty The fact that she wasn't only dancing for him but also for other reasons was what made the dance such a unique experience. She was starting to get more interested in herself as time went on. She was establishing her independence by making decisions for herself and choosing not to care what other people thought or said about her choices. She found herself thinking about how much she cared about the serpents, which fueled her desire to help them in some way. Her family history might be traced back to the Jughead Serpents. She grabbed the pole and began making slow, controlled rotations around it until she was completely encircled by it. She was just lightly dancing when she reached up to her face, caressed her cheek, and then continued dancing. The time during which she had the feeling that she was living in her own world.

Betty calmly made her way over to the microphone and sang the last word of "mad world." she couldn't help but notice something off in the distance in one of the room's corners. Her attention then moved to focus on Jughead and FP. As the song quickly came to an end, Betty had no clue what was going on. Betty was going through the whole throes of a panic attack. She was taken aback when she became aware that Jughead wasn't happy with her. If he had any inkling that she was planning on carrying this through, he would never let it. He had to come to the realization that he did not need to guard her at all times. They worked as a team, and she is more than capable of taking care of herself.

She had already begun to make her way off the stage by the time FP could even begin to get a grasp on what was going on. It seemed as if he was wearing his Serpent jacket at the time, and he gave it to her so that Betty might wrap herself in it. The focus of Betty's attention shifted to Jughead. Even the dim lighting of the bar was not enough to hide his nervousness and anger. FP's booming voice suddenly encompassed the whole bar in an instant. Everyone came to an abrupt halt and stared in amazement.

🎵And I find it kinda funny I find it kinda sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles

It's a very, very

Children waiting for the day they feel good

Happy birthday, happy birthday

And I feel the way that every child should

Sit and listen, sit and listen 🎵
I find it hard to take,

01/30/2023 12:12 PM 

Where's My Love?

serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

Where's My Love?
Did she run away? Did she run away? I don't know If she ran away, if she ran away, come back home Just come home

I got a fear, oh, in my blood She was carried up into the clouds, high above
Did you run away? I don't need to know.
A tense clench on his part caused her to grimace in discomfort as it pressed on the jutting bones at her sides. Even though he had no ill will toward her, the lack of tissue that remained as a result of the significant weight loss for someone who was already so little meant that every pressure point and every momentary discomfort was felt with a higher intensity. However, it had a sensation. After being numbed for such a long period of time, even the discomfort of physical pain was a welcomed sensation. As a result, Betty tightened her grasp on him until she had white knuckles from the strain. She did not care if her delicate fingers broke in two if it meant that she would never have to release go of him, and his words of guaranteed forgiveness would continue to flow over her like waves. She would do anything.

Their foreheads continued to be linked, and the warmth of his breath on the flesh of her lips caused her to tremble despite the fact that there was a significant temperature disparity between their bodies. How darkly beautiful it is that he was her light in life, the one thing she clung to even now as they made their way back to one another. Jughead was quite literally the only thing supplying her famished body with the heat it needed to live.

Their breathing fell into a steady rhythm with one another, and they closed their eyes as a sense of calm and tranquility crept over them. At the same time, the full impact of tiredness that had been shaking her body began to take effect. Her mind was blurred by the disorientation caused by the strain of sobbing, and she shakily removed one hand from the death hold she had on his shoulder. She then ran a finger over his lower lip, tracing the lines with noticeable slowness and relishing the pleasure of running her finger along the lines. She was having no idea that her body was going through the motions of a panic attack. regardless of the struggles they have overcome. jug was the one who brought her back each and every single time.

"Won't you come snuggle with me?" It was a weak inquiry, but despite his holding the weight of them both, Betty was immediately hit with tiredness. She was doubtful whether her own legs would support her since the war had already been won, therefore her body was no longer battling against itself.
if you ran away, come back home,

01/23/2023 11:33 PM 

that way.

serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

that way.
Run me in circles like you always do Mess with me on purpose, so I'll hang on to you I know what you mean when you act like that But you don't know it's breaking my heart Said that it was just never gonna happen Then almost kissed me in the dark Every time we talk, it just hurts so bad 'Cause I don't even know what we are I don't even know where to start But I can play the part

Still can't tell If we both mean well Keep me guessing If this is life or hell Think I might've said too much, bit the dust Now I'm kinda dizzy Overthinking us, until I'm drunk And sick of this whole city Don't know where to start Don't know how to hold my heart And if we're really what we say we are, then why is this so hard?
"And sick of this whole city."
Betty's cool demeanor softened at his touch as he dropped a light kiss on her forehead as a means of consolation for frightening her with his choice in themes of discourse. He did this as a method of making up for scaring her with his choice in topics of conversation. This was his way of making up for the fact that the subjects of discussion he had with her had caused her to feel uncomfortable. She was taken aback by the fact that she unexpectedly felt vulnerable under his gaze in a way that she was not used to feeling, and the fact that he admitted that it was normal to be plagued by things struck a chord within her. Due to the manner in which she was educated, it went against every fiber of her being to be able to speak it, acknowledge her inadequacies, and reveal her weaknesses; but, she knew that he was correct deep down. She just was unable to bring herself to acknowledge it. Betty held herself to the same unachievable standard that everyone else in Riverdale believed the Coopers to have set because they were the paragon of perfection throughout all of Riverdale's history. Betty believed that the Coopers had set the standard for what it meant to be a perfect family in Riverdale. This had a significant impact on almost every aspect of Betty's life. When her hands reached his, they immediately started to work their way inside in a safe manner, and at that same time, she let out a thoughtful sigh.

It was pointless to dispute her claim that she was not keeping anything from him for an excessive amount of time because he knew her too well and could see through the deception she was telling both him and herself in an instant. She was telling him and herself that she was not keeping anything from him. "I have no doubt in my mind that you are..." She brought herself back under control as she thought about what the next statements should be. "Jug, at this point in time, I'm not worried about myself at all. Now that her father is involved once again, I am worried for Archie, as well as you, Kevin, and V in addition to myself. Since I am constantly concerned about Polly and everyone else who is important to me, I just don't have the time to think about myself since I don't have the opportunity to do so."  In answer, all she could muster was a feeble shrug.

"I just cannot put up with the fact that I feel so helpless. When I was initially dealing with Archie's dad, and then when I was dealing with your dad, I couldn't just stand by and do nothing when there was a solution there in front of me. The same goes went when I was dealing with everything else. As a result, I just carried out the actions that, in my view at the moment, were essential. " She chewed on her lower lip as she peered into his eyes, trying to read either approval or rebuke for the brutal honesty that she had just shown. "Knowing Cheryl as well as I do, I can promise that I haven't seen the last of her; after all, she is a Blossom,"   As she thought about the notorious family as a whole and the complicated history that her family shared in common with the Cooper lineage, she rolled her eyes and gave a sigh of exasperation.

"But there's nothing that's beyond my control," she said.

It was impossible to argue against the reality that he was right in what he stated since there was no way to do so. Betty had the mistaken idea that the self-proclaimed watcher wouldn't be able to see right through her masquerade. She was under the impression that she needed to be the steadfast protector for everyone else, except for herself. When it came to letting others help her when she needed it the most or letting them see the darkest parts of her, she had a history of failing miserably at both of these tasks.

She was taken aback when he addressed her worries in a manner that led her to the conclusion that she need his reassurance since she had a habit of keeping her worries to herself. Not only was her worry for Jughead's safety of the utmost importance in her mind, but also the fact that her him  move to the South Side was more permanent than she had anticipated was one of the things that she found most disturbing about the situation. Betty had not even realized that she was terrified of losing him in other ways; yet, she allowed herself to linger in the possibilities, even though they often creeped up on her without her asking them to do so. 

They traded places; she was the one who was hesitant to speak up about her feelings, and he was the one who reassured her that everything was going to be well in spite of everything that was working against them. Their roles were reversed. "It's a difficult situation..." In the end, she confessed, her tone being unusually quiet as she struggled to determine who she was in the present time. Betty said, "Perhaps I'm Just Nervous Because Talking About Things Makes Me Feel Open and Vulnerable at a Time When I Don't Feel Like I Can Afford to Be"   A shrug of her shoulders could be observed accompanying her statements at the same time. "There is a serial murderer on the loose, but I can't allow that make me fearful because then he would have already prevailed. If I give in to my fear, then he will have already won. As soon as I give in to my natural tendency to worry about anything, I find that my state of discomfort quickly permeates every facet of my existence."
Don't know how to hold my heart,

01/22/2023 02:03 PM 

You’re on Your Own, Kid.

serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

You’re on Your Own, Kid.
I see the great escape So long, Daisy May I picked the petals, he loves me not Something different bloomed Writing in my room I play my songs in the parking lot I'll run away

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I called a taxi to take me there I search the party of better bodies Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare
"I didn't choose this town I dream of getting out"
She didn't feel good.

It wasn't a sudden illness, and it wasn't anything like the hallucinations and initial seizure that my body had; instead, it was progressive. It crept up on me slowly, as a virus or an infection might. The shivers ripped through her skin in the mornings, and the chilly shivery perspiration was aggressive throughout the night. Her bones hurt, and her mind felt sluggish and heavy. The physician diagnosed it as stress, explaining that witnessing a suicide was a horrific experience and that since they hadn't found anything in her blood when they tested her the previous time, all she needed to do was keep hydrated and relax.

However, she was mistaken, and something needed to be corrected.

This wasn't stressful. It wasn't because she was sad or scared. She was sick. She could feel it from her ponytail to her toes, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She knew depression, anxiety, and stress because they were all a part of her language and her genetic makeup. But this wasn't stressful. It wasn't because she was sad or scared. She was sick.

So Betty Cooper behaved in a manner consistent with her character.

She was able to keep it all hidden.

She concealed the bags beneath her eyes with a soft, light concealer. She buried her aching limbs behind cardigans. She hid her headaches within bottles of ibuprofen. She hid her nervous fingers in Jughead's black waves. She hid her headaches inside bottles of aspirin.

She was aware that she would not be able to deceive everyone for very long, but while her mother was preoccupied with the farm and Veronica was attempting to get Archie out from prison, it became more straightforward for her to conceal the fact that she was ill. On some days, all she needed to do was lie down, shut her eyes, and hope that when she opened them again, she would be able to feel her legs again. The plan called for her to get up, take her medication, go to school, make progress on the case, have dinner with Polly and her mother, and then lock herself away until the hammering in her head stopped and the nausea faded. The most terrifying aspect was when she would have mini seizures, which would last for no more than ten seconds at most and consist of shaking convulsions that would come and go, leaving her thoroughly shaken and terrified. Everything else was effortless to hide, but she was unable to conceal the seizures.

And, of course, she was never able to keep anything from Jughead Jones completely hidden.

Three weeks had passed since that night at the hospital, and Jughead was dealing with it the same way that Betty had been: by burying himself in work until it became easier to forget, until he could no longer see his dead corpse limping five stories down in the hospital parking lot. They were huddled together in a Pop's booth, with papers strewn in front of them and Jughead's never-ending cups of coffee perched precariously on the edge of the table. She could feel it coming on: the acceleration of her pulse rate and the appearance of perspiration on her hands caused her to lose her balance and fall out of the booth. She mumbled something to Jughead as she made her way to the swinging front door. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, she sought solace in the peace and privacy of the night.

She dropped herself to the ground and allowed the convulsions to wrack her body, letting the force cause her eyes to roll back in her head. It felt like pins and needles were being poked into her flesh. She was exhausted, and her muscles hurt; she vaguely registered the sting of blood in her mouth, as biting her tongue was typically the first thing that came with the seizure. Despite the fact that it was over before it started, there was no way she could stand. She was exhausted, and her muscles hurt. Before she saw them, she heard the heavy combat boots, and the darkness of the parking lot was replaced by the individuals' horrified and worried blue eyes.

"Betts." "Betts.. what's... what's going on?" he hushed, his hands gently cupping her cheeks as his fingers caressed her silky skin gently and soothingly. She could see the remorse and Gutteral terror reflected in his eyes, and it was almost as if her suffering had been transferred to him.

"I'm okay." She mumbled, eyes fluttering closed. "I'm... I'm okay."

Jughead shook his head, slipped over to sit next to her, and pulled her in as close as he possibly could.

"Betty, you're not. No, you're not. You just had another seizure; you told me you felt good... I thought the doctor had said to you that you would be fine?" He wasn't accusing her, and he wasn't angry; he was simply terrified, as she could see by the fact that he was attempting to maintain a level tone in his voice. So was she, and she was darn weary of concealing it.

"I went back, and the doctor advised me to simply rest, drink some water, and assured me that everything would be great, but it wasn't. I'm not alright, Jughead.. something's wrong... I am in agony all the time. Some days, I can't even get out of bed without feeling as if the whole world is spinning on its axis, and I don't know how to stop it. There's nothing I can do. " Finally, the tears started to fall, and they were big, raindrop-shaped ones that ran down her cheeks and soaked the leather jacket that Jughead was wearing. His hands pulled her in closer as he rubbed circular motions into the soft cotton of her Riverdale High School jacket.

"We are going to work this out, and we are going to go to a different doctor. If that's what it takes, I'll give you a ride to Greendale every single day, even if it's 10 times a day. I'm not going to let you suffer for quite longer. Betty, you have to tell me whatever it is, because I have to know it no matter what it is. Remember that we are a team and that we are in this together, no matter how great or how little the challenge may be. And this one is quite huge, but it's nothing that we can't manage. We solve murders, Betty. We will make you better," it was a promise, his heavy deep voice lifting her anxiousness and pouring over her lean body, but yet... she couldn't help but feel like she was going to die.

"I want to believe you, Jug, but with everything that's going on right now, we really don't have time to think about this; we're right in the thick of an investigation," she said. She heaved a sigh as she became acutely aware, for the very first time, that they were standing quite uncomfortably close to the garbage can. Jughead was the one who helped them both get-up, his fingers gently pulling her chin higher so that she could gaze into his eyes.
There's just one who could make me stay All my days,

01/21/2023 11:03 PM 

I Blame The World.

serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

I Blame The World.
Why fall in love if I fall out? Why get high if eventually everyone comes down? Why play the game if it ain't fair? Why talk to God if I ain't got any proof he's even there? And why say hi if I gotta say bye someday? And why get close if I know my heart could break?

Can't see the good in all the bad Can't make me happy when I'm sad I blame the world I'm a glass-half-empty kinda girl Can't see the silver in the lines Can't make the best of a bad time I blame the world I'm a glass-half-empty kinda girl
"Why paint my nails if they chip off?"
"i’m worried about you."

If she had even the remotest belief that she was capable of comprehending even the darkest sense of humor, then his words might have been hilarious to her. Was it something about the way that she wore her hair? Most of it down, gathered at the nape of her neck in a loose hairband rather than her signature high, tight ponytail that she wears when she is fighting and getting down to business? Or was it the fact that she hadn't washed her hair in days, the usual strands of blonde being several shades darker and the ends beginning to fray as a result of the lack of care shown to them, with loose strands hanging in her face? For someone whose entire wardrobe consisted of pastel pink, why did her clothes not appear to coordinate or match in any particular way? Was it due to the fact that her wardrobe wasn't color-coordinated? Or the fact that Betty couldn't even remember the last time she had managed to drag herself out of bed long enough to force herself to attempt a load of laundry when the facilities were several floors away from the relative safety of her dorm room. She wondered what specifics exactly had him concerned about her. Still, she also felt a familiar apathy to the way his eyes seemed to linger longer than they should in an attempt to convey the seriousness of his worry about her.

Since she hadn't been able to make the trip for several weeks prior to his visit, she knew she was supposed to feel apologetic and possibly embarrassed about how she looked. Somewhere inside her, she knew she was supposed to handle these things.

When so much needed to be seen firsthand and in person where she couldn't change the subject and put on a forced fake happiness for his benefit, phone calls did little to convey her deteriorating mental health. Instead, she needed to be there in person. It was far too simple for her to train the pitch of her voice, to sound excessively upbeat, and to lie about plans she had with friends, claiming how busy she was and how she had to run to meet up with them in order to get him off the phone more quickly. In contrast, he had just stepped out of crowded and noisy bars with actual friends of his own instead of imaginary made-up friends like hers. Even though he was physically present and holding her hand while telling her he was concerned, Betty could not feel anything at all. Despite the fact that she was aware of the fact that she was supposed to care, she simply did not. Even when he recognized something was wrong, she rarely allowed him to broach the subject. However, now that he was here and in person, it was much more unavoidable; however, she didn't even have enough energy to even want to hide anything from him anymore.

It was only a matter of time before he found out that she had been skipping classes entirely and instead sleeping for hours at a time. She hardly ever even got out of bed or left her room for food, let alone for any social interaction or productive strides for her education. When he did find out, he was furious. He demanded to know why she was acting this way. For someone who is typically so neat and particular, even her dorm room had become a cluttered, disorganized mess; it was an outward manifestation of the struggling chaos she was experiencing internally; however, no amount of sleep seemed to give her enough energy to want to tackle either obstacle. In spite of the lies she'd been trying to convince him off for weeks, her unmade bed served as a safe haven, and the only natural companion she had was her laptop, which she used to watch Netflix on her television. Betty had no idea whether or not he had ever believed her in the first place, and even though she now doubted that he had, she didn't care enough to even try to continue living a lie.
Her parents were not yet aware of the severity of the situation, but disclosing this information to them at this time would not be appropriate before they were updated on their daughter's condition. The sunken shadows beneath her eyes told of a tiredness that consumed her entirely and without mercy or regard, not one that could be quelled by any number of hours of restful sleep. Her eyes, which were ordinarily bright and full of life, appeared hollow, empty, and lifeless. Even throughout the last few weeks since he'd seen her, her already diminutive frame had become even more emaciated. One of the contributing factors was the secretly stashed orange bottle of pills she kept handy, even though the supplied number of medications dwindled, and she'd stopped taking them altogether until she could find someone else on campus to assist her in replenishing her stock. It was one of the many secrets she had begun concealing from him over the course of the previous few months. The fresh scars on the palms of her hands were another one of the secrets she had begun keeping from him while she kept the sleeves of her sweater pulled down over her hands and balled into her fists as her own personal suit of armor.
Why try to find myself if I know I'll end up getting lost?,

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