I keep on wanting to be like "This particular thing made me so sad" and I probably will, but there's something that kills me every chapter. Here of course, it's baby Jughead getting left behind with bacon as a goodbye, him missing his sister hogging the bed, and how you describe him breaking down after seeing FP in the station. You do such a great job making me hate FP in this fic, from the bruise on Gladys cheekbone to the way he blames Jughead for his "messes" to treats Jughead like a piece of property. (Honestly, I think he's the shittiest father in this story despite Hal being a serial killer.) I feel unsettled whenever they talk. I love all the parallels again, the unquestioning hugs switching direction, the summer fantasy turned reality, the waterhole visits. The sex scene with the ice cubes is amazing. I liked how Betty is trying to reconcile her memories of her father being a good dad, and how on the other side you have Jughead sort of resigned to the horrible way he's treated. Both feel guilty on behalf of their fathers in different ways. I also really like past Betty examining the start of her relationship with Jughead, realizing he was the third wheel before, and delighting in their ability to communicate with facial expressions, and then current Betty examining again, looking for a different start that she missed and reflecting on their much more developed relationship. I love that Dr. Glass is the voice of reason, and Betty voices her concerns, but somehow the way you write the two of them their relationship works. She's worrying about boundaries that she's having trouble finding because of the depth of their relationship. (And I love how this ties into Jughead later refusing to hurt her when she asks. They're both so afraid of themselves but when the test actually comes their love shapes the right boundaries) I love the sense of past Jughead longing to be a part of things but separated from everyone as he has his fantasy in the projection booth, and the fact that Archie cancelled the trip that was supposed to shore him up about his mother leaving. I love how current Jughead is just realizing that people would miss him if he were gone. It's also interesting to see the first thread of the college fears wrapped up in his fear that their relationship is temporary, and her bringing back her counter about being a real person, not a fantasy. I also really loved how your writing goes from "i'm glad i ran into you" to the aftermath of jug's beating, it works so much better than actually showing it.
Also: how dare the manager suggest that Heathers isn't a summer fun movie, I'm laughing at Veronica being disgusted by their sex vibe, him being dramatic Jughead about his pins on his hat and his analysis of Fast Times in relation to Riverdale, and that he had hoped Cheryl would have gotten to Veronica first.
Trying to not quote so much but it's hard: "It wasn’t ‘be good’ or ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m sorry’. With a bruise forming on her cheek, it was ‘be safe’. There is no note, no lingering apology or regretful explanation on the kitchen counter. She said her sorry with food and went on her way. He should have known. This was the only way she could apologize, with food, the good bacon." "She wonders if he loves having a patient with a famous serial killer for a father, if he regales the details of their therapy at dinner parties, if his colleagues put two and two together and know it is her. Does he describe the sordid details of that night when she confronted her father, the two shots heard round the world? Does he tell them about the darker aspects of her personality, the parallels between herself and her father?" "Despair bitter on the back of her tongue to think that was the last profound moment she shared with her father, a kinship in their internalized deep-seated anger, like she finally had an undoubting answer for her rage and its origins." "Even in that muggy heat, sweat beading on her forehead and her upper lip, she looked irresistible to him." "The screen of his phone has gone dark. Fantasy Betty fades away as he looks down, come sprayed across the bridge and thighs of his jeans. “You’re a fucking idiot, Jones,” he mutters to himself." "His phone dings with a text. It’s Betty. How is the article coming along? His editor is a hard-assed taskmaster. It is ten o’clock at night and she still finds time to ride him in preparation for their seven A.M. meeting. He loves her." "Appearing soft, pink, and withdrawn, she persuades with more sugar until she is forced to use spice, and even then it comes as a last resort. Even then, it comes with blood on her hands, because yes, he knows about the nail marks on her palms." "Sweet Pea, one of the newer recruits, shoulders into him with his newly won leather jacket. The leather is still stiff, squeaks when he moves like he wants Jug to hear it." "Jughead pulls his feet closer towards him like the wicked witch under the house as Clifford Blossom passes," "Betty, the people pleaser, doesn’t handle social confrontation well, and a bulldozer like Veronica might be out of her wheelhouse." "During the build, Archie and Jughead often got distracted by some other juvenile pursuit, capturing bees in old mason jars or devolving into acorn wars. But, Betty wanted to see the process. She wanted to see the house come together, the place they could call their own." She wonders when he made it. It isn’t recent." "Because she liked Jughead. She wanted him to stick around, Archie or no Archie, because he cut through the bullshit. She liked him even when he was judgmental and ranting, especially when it was about the investigation. " "She tries to remember a time when Jughead wasn’t hungry, observing him eating three fries at a time. He is stirring fries in ketchup when he catches her staring, his hand hovering above the puddle of red on his plate. “What?” His mouth is still full of fries cordoned off in one cheek like a hamster." " Skin splits and something like pleasing nausea fills her belly, the static in her mind dissolving into bursts of light behind her eyes closed tight. Her breath comes unburdened as blood fills her nail beds." "Jughead hesitantly lets Fred’s arm settle along his back, so paternal it chafes when Fred’s fingers curl into his arm"
His father sneers and nods. “Yeah, here he is.” FP wrings his hands together like he is washing his son off, throws them up in surrender. “You’re gonna kill us both.”" "she tries to recall Jughead ever showing romantic interest in anyone or anything, besides food. " " She must have cried for at least twenty minutes, and he didn’t say a single word. His embrace around her sanity never waned." "She won’t let him be an extra, no matter how much he desperately wants to disappear into the background." "“I can –,” Jug starts but his father’s head shoots up, leveling his son with a mix he can barely comprehend in the moment – despair, terror, rage, and hatred, either towards himself or his son, Jughead cannot tell." "He shouldn’t be crying. His world ended months ago, and he should’ve been ready for this, his inevitable bad luck, his constant specter, the embarrassment twisting in his belly to know where he had come from, to know what he would become and why. He did this. He made this." "He stares at her bare ass, cheeks scuffed red from writhing against the scratchy velvet." "Her mouth folds over his, and he opens his lips against hers, the water sliding over his tongue, escaping between their lips. It is nearly sexier than the ice melting against her pussy, only nearly. " "She leans forward, her breasts pressed to his chest, licks his bottom lip before whispering, “I’m also real, Jug.” He needs the reminder, he thinks, the tangibility of her lips pressed to his, tasting the remnants of peach gloss mixed with the salty sweat on her upper lip, the smell of sweat and vanilla, eyes warm and green and drinking him in." "She smooths back the damp hair falling over his brow, still breathless when she declares this was definitely top five, and his softening dick twitches helplessly with the compliment. He counters with a cheeky top three, at least. Her responding smile makes his heart swell with a dull ache, and he kisses her to soothe the pain." "He tries not to seem put out by her joking suggestions, but he is. Only a little. She gives him a peck on his miserable mouth and promises she would never share him with anyone else either." "With this word comes the thought of placing limits around Jug, around herself, around how they relate to one another – it sounds like nonsense. She doesn’t see a limit to their relationship partially because Jughead doesn’t. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Jughead himself has no emotional boundaries because he is emotionally starved. They both are, she admits. Only to herself." "She can take a step back and look at the whole picture. Dr. Glass doesn’t have nearly as much information at his disposal, and he will misuse the knowledge he does have. She knows Jughead, and given what she knows, this new aspect doesn’t surprise her." "To feel stuck in place. To feel apart and never a part. No mother, no sister, no home, just dear old dad, a drunk and a criminal. Wouldn’t she do the same to feel closer, to feel connected? If she condemns Jug, doesn’t she condemn herself?"
I think I told my betas once many moons ago that this entire story is just me putting Bughead through a psychological meat grinder. I read “this particular thing” and immediately thought “this particular story”. The whole thing is a big bowl of sad, but hopefully it offers some catharsis and the lighter moments are worth it.
As I mentioned in the previous chapter, there is a lot more going on under the surface between Jughead and his dad, and it will be confronted in chapters 15 and 16. I wanted readers to be left wondering why the hell Jughead would put up with FP when he treats the kid so terribly. The running parallels of their relationships to their fathers, how they differ, how they are similar, how they are both awful in their own way, but by the end of this, I’m wondering how the two will stack up against one another. This story is nothing but parallels.
It is all about the word choice. Betty comes at him asking to be hurt, and that should and does set off red flags in Jug’s brain. In his head, physically hurting Betty is like being boiled alive.
Heathers is the classic 80s teen movie, and I will fight anyone on it. How dare indeed.
All the gratitude for giving me some much-needed feedback on this chapter! 😊
Comment on the devil's daughter
redcirce on Chapter 3 Wed 14 Oct 2020 10:11PM UTC
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meditationonbaaal on Chapter 3 Fri 16 Oct 2020 08:21PM UTC
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