In lieu of the new tumblr settings, can I make yet another plea with those of you who read fics and consume art on tumblr to please reblog them?
Fics and art will die on a creator’s dash if they aren’t reblogged. It’s never been more true than now.
If you want to keep receiving content from creators, reblog the the content. If it’s something you enjoyed? Reblog it. It’s not hard. I am going to make a point to reblog everything I read from now on. (With the proper tags of course), as well as all the art that I see on my dash.
I cannot make it simpler. Posts WILL die unless they’re reblogged. No one will see your ‘like’. Your like is a bookmark for YOU to find it later. Your reblog means the world to a creator because it means you are willing to go the little extra distance and recommend this to your followers.
Don’t let creations die on the dash of those who created them.
Ironically, Tumblr ate my last attempt at this post, so I’ll keep it sweet:
1. It makes content creators’ day when you interact with us, especially reblog.
2. Comments and tag blathering are really, really special to me, and I look at allllll my reblogs just in case someone said something interesting in the tags.
3. It works. @dresupi reblogged something of mine and I immediately got more notes.
Author’s Note: Part 2. Again, very long. I’m exploring dialogue, so...
The House of the Rising Sun : The Second Night
Oh, Kiss me quick
And make my heart go crazy
“He’s a fucking pig and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him for it.”
Jughead looked up from his straw, sucking up his milkshake.
“How’s he gonna ‘get what’s coming to him’? The school system sure as hell isn’t big on karma.”
The sharp eyed girl opposite him folded her diamond studded arms.
Jughead glanced between her and the timid blond sitting quiet, but equally determined, beside her.
“We’ll just have to take things into our own hands, I guess.”
“Betty, you can’t possibly agree…” He looked to the blond, who seemed aghast.
“Yes,” she enunciated, “I do, Jughead. You’re right, the school isn’t going to do anything, especially since Chuck is the principle’s son. But that doesn’t mean we have to do nothing.”
Jughead leaned forward, “What exactly are you going to do?”
“Veronica has a plan.”
“Me?” she looked to Betty, “It’s your plan. And a damn good one too.”
“Are you gonna tell me, or…” Jughead shrugged, finishing up the last of his fries.
The girls glanced at each other. A decision was made. Veronica faced Jughead.
“It’s probably better if you don’t know.”
Sigh that sigh and whisper oh so low
Tell me that tonight will last forever
“You know what?” he leaned back after a moment of silence, “Whatever it is, just don’t kill anyone, ok? I’ve got enough to write about at the moment.”
“Oh, you’ll wish you could write about this!” Veronica smirked. Jughead rolled his eyes. And a silence fell over the table as the three took an entirely coincidental and wholly meaningful toast of milkshakes.
Say that you will leave me never
Kiss me quick because I love you so.
“What is this song?” Betty asked, smiling, “It’s nice.”
“Elvis. Kiss me Quick.”
Both girls peered at the boy in ponderous silence. Jughead glanced up from his shake, cheeks flushing a slight peach.
“I sit here a lot, ok?” he mumbled, “I can’t help but pick up on some of this stuff.”
“Well, he is the King of Rock.” Veronica sneered, “Who can blame you, Juggie?”
A snicker and a glare exchanged between the two. The song came to a slow end, the vinyl switching and the next song echoing throughout the diner.
I’m looking for a girlfriend,
I gotta find myself somebody to love…
“Hey what’s this song, Juggie?” Veronica grinned, “I’m sure you know all about that struggle, am I right?”
“Fuck off.” The boy spat, unable to hide the slight smile on his lips.
“Speaking of which, we better. We have that meeting--” She glanced suggestively at Veronica, “And I still have to go over physics for the test tomorrow.”
“Too busy plotting world domination.” Veronica joked.
“I might as well go home too.” Jughead shrugged, eyes cast down, “It’s… getting late and all.”
The three rose, paid their bill and exited the diner. The night breeze, like an ocean, coasted against the back of Jughead’s neck, running a tingle down his spine. His mother used to say that meant a ghost just walked through you. Jughead followed behind Veronica and Betty, wondering if ghosts existed in the tropics when a loud, single shrieking ring broke the silence. Luckily, neither of the girls saw him twitch in surprise.
“Ah,” Betty reached into her pocket, pulling out her cell, the screen illuminated with a text. She furrowed her brow, eyes shifting left and right over the words.
“Ronnie, we’re meeting here instead.”
“Here?” the brunette turned to Betty, lowering her voice, “Isn’t that kind of conspicuous?”
Jughead’s gaze glazed over the forest on the side of the road, pretending to not listen. Clearly, this had to do with the top secret plan Betty concocted.
“Uhm, Jughead, you go on ahead. We’re gonna stop by somewhere real quick.”
Jughead rolled his eyes, “That’s not vague and suspicious at all.”
“Need-to-know, Juggie.” Veronica replied, taking Betty by the arm, “We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” He stopped her from striding past him, “I’m going with you guys.”
“Didn’t I just say—“
“I’ll keep my distance so you can have your privacy, ok? Just, now’s not the best time to be meeting sketchy people on your own.”
“I have Betty.”
“There’s a killer on the loose.”
“I hope this isn’t some masculinity thing.” Veronica rolled her eyes. Jughead frowned.
“No, I just think there should be a witness. For the newspapers, you know? So they get it right in the obituaries.”
“So clever, how do you do it?”
“Just shut up and go to the meeting place, ok?”
Veronica folded her arms, glaring him down. Betty stood to the side, witness to the stare-down.
“Look, let’s just let him come, Ronnie. He’s not gonna stop us from doing what we need to.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asked, eyes unmoving from the beanie-headed boy.
“He’s Jughead.” She shrugged, “We can trust him, I promise.”
Veronica seemed unmoving in her conviction. However, a moment later, her arms came down to her hips.
“Fine.”
With a sigh, the boy followed her and Betty around Pop’s Chock’Lit Shoppe.
“It’s just here, I think.” Veronica said, looking down at the message on Betty’s phone.
They rounded the shoppe, the streetlight on the corner coming into view. Jughead’s forehead knit together. His lips fell open, as if to say something, which never made its way out.
“Which one of you is Betty?” she asked, cigarette smoke escaping her lungs as she spoke.
The leather jacket was gone this time. So was the Cheville and the brunette that came with it. She was alone again, clad in a denim jacket and black tights. Her eyes shifted from Betty to Veronica to Jughead, a mutual look of surprise contorting his features.
“If it isn’t Bruce Wayne.” Her expression shifted to a full-lipped grin, “Come to slum again, Master Wayne?”
This last sentence she spoke in an inflection like Alfred the Butler. Betty and Veronica turned to look back at Jughead, both equally lost.
Jughead grimaced, glaring at the two for an instant before turning around to head to the diner, “You guys do what you came to do. I’m gonna wait by Pop’s.”
Betty watched him lean against the back door of the diner, observing from the distance as the girl stood beneath the street light, waiting. Betty turned back to her, climbing the short hill to the streetlight.
The exchange was made beneath the light like a performance. As quickly as they’d come, Betty and Veronica returned to Jughead’s side, sighing.
“Ready to go?”
He pushed himself off the wall, frowning. “I hope you guys know what you’re doing.”
“Trust us, Jughead.”
“How do you know her anyways?” Veronica interrupted.
Before he could respond, the girl called from the distance, still lingering beneath the street lamp.
“Hey, Batman, come here.”
He didn’t miss the twitch of Veronica’s lip.
“You heard her… Batman.”
“I’m gonna fall back. You guys go ahead and leave.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and made for the street lamp. The girls bid their farewells, making towards home.
The Girl leaned against the lamp post, smoking a cigarette and staring him down. Jughead stood across from her, keeping his distance. A moment of silence passed between the two.
“What’d they ask for?” he finally met her eyes, “And why do you have it?”
“From what I understand,” she flicked the butt of the cigarette between them, “That’s none of your business, is it?”
“They’re my friends.”
“A therapist wouldn’t give you any scratch.”
“You’re not a therapist.”
“We play by the same rules.” She gave a tight-lipped smile. “And as for why I have what your friends are looking for… well, maybe you should reconsider the friends you keep if they need to come to someone like me in the first place, Pleasantville.”
“Would you stop calling me those names?” He rolled his eyes.
“You’ve never told me your real name, have you?” she chuckled.
He pressed his lips shut. Point taken.
“Jughead Jones… the Third.”
Her laugh rippled through the night air, childish, almost.
“You mean to tell me there were two men before you who saw fit to call themselves that too?”
He glared in silence. She held her hands up, “Sorry, Sorry. Just… funny is all.”
“You know what’s not funny?” he took a step forward, “The fact that you’re meeting my friends in the middle of the night under a sketchy streetlamp to trade money for God-knows-what.”
“Hey, they were the ones—“
“You know there’s a killer on the loose, don’t you?”
“So you’ve said already.”
“Then why are you doing this? What are you even doing here?”
She waited for him to calm down, noticing the fire behind his sea green eyes. When his shoulders relaxed, she retaliated.
“Look. Your friends were the ones who needed my services on such short notice, ok? And if I’m telling the truth, it’s not even me, it’s—“
She bit her lip, then huffed in frustration. Jughead watched in silence, following her gaze to the street.
“Your boyfriend?”
She turned to him sharply.
“You’re doing this for him?”
“He had more pressing matters at the moment.”
“Is he coming to pick you up again?”
She didn’t respond. Her fingers went to her jacket pocket, pulling out the carton of cigarettes to light another.
“You should’ve just said no.”
At this, she glared at him, rolling her eyes and taking a puff. Amid the silence, the fateful jukebox continued to play.
Stopped into a church
I passed along the way
Well, I got down on my knees
And I pretend to pray
“You gonna leave now, or what?” she asked.
He crouched to the floor, picking up a stick and drawing invisible images in the concrete. “I told you, there’s a killer on the loose.”
“And?”
He didn’t respond. A small smile creeped on the Girl’s lips.
“Well aren’t you a knight in shining armor.”
“Puh-lease.”
“The Dark Knight indeed.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
The Girl laughed.
“Listen, if you’re not the killer, you shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“And if I am?”
“You won’t do anything if I’m here.”
She flicked the burnt ash off her cigarette. “And what if I kill you?”
He looked up at her, a smirk on his lips, “I’d like to see you try, Gotham.”
She grinned. Within a moment, however, the smile faded. “You know, your friends oughta be careful.”
Jughead pursed his lips, nodding. “Try telling them that.”
“Look, I don’t know what they’re planning, but… it isn’t good. That’s all I can tell you.”
He nodded, about to speak, when the sound of the jukebox was overcome by the revving of an engine. They both turned to see the headlights of the old Cheville tearing down the street, closer and closer, brighter and brighter. With a screech, the car came to a stop before them. The same brunette boy sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift.
“Nice talkin’ to you, Batman.” The Girl said, crushing her cigarette beneath her boot.
She hopped into the car. The boy leaned forward, kissing her on the lips. She fumbled to return the gesture, surprised.
“You cold?”
She glanced at Jughead, slightly red from the kiss. He stood straight, expression stoic.
“Yeah, a little.”
The brunette shrugged off his leather jacket. She slid one sleeve through, turning in her seat to slide the other arm in. That’s when Jughead saw it; the green, coiled snake, embroidered on her back. She pulled the jacket on, brushing her hair behind her ear. She glanced at Jughead over her shoulder.
“See you around, Batman.”
He stood silent as the Cheville cruised into the distance.
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