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Ghost That We Knew

No beta and pretty tired sorry for a spelling or grammar mistakes.

Chapter Two

There was no one specific instance that let Jughead know that he was unwanted, unwelcome in Riverdale, the town with pep. It had been a burdening feeling for as long as he could remember. Perhaps a generational imprint from decades of outcast Jones’ before him. His mother too was an undesirable. Local gossip painting her as anything from a witch, to a kingpin to a run-of-the-mill loser. Jughead had long since let go of any childhood fantasy of becoming accepted. He used to try. Straight A’s, writing for the school paper, staying late to help tutor a fellow student. But destiny is a strong and pervasive force in little towns like Riverdale and sooner or later it came for him. It pushed him towards his legacy of crime and debauchery. As far as the Northside of Riverdale was concerned the Serpents were a gang of lazy, low-life drunks who hung around causing trouble and riding around on crappy bikes. Now that was true of a small number of the Serpents, but they had grown in number under the calculated ad business minded eye of F.P. Jones, Jughead’s Father. He was a natural born leader and while he didn’t exactly excel in academics in High School his time as Captain of the Varsity football team had taught him the power of hierarchy. F.P. Jones was exceptionally good at figuring out peoples needs and how to satisfy them, by any means (often illegal means) necessary. He was savvy and an excellent judge of character. He always knew who to make the muscle, who let talk, who let handle the money, and who was better left behind. Jughead often thought that had his Father ever been given an actual opportunity he would have been an excellent businessman. F.P., though not exactly a doting Father, had taught Jughead everything he knew about the Serpents and their way of life and leadership. F.P. did want more for his son than the life of a gang leader, but almost every shred of hope had been beaten out of him time and time again by the tides of life and he had lost the ability to expect any good to come to anyone even remotely associated with himself. He knew that if Jughead was going to be in the Serpents it would be a hell of a lot better to be a leader than a follower.

Jughead had always resented his Father’s little lessons. He hated that the only time his Father ever showed the least bit of interest in him was to teach how to be a criminal. However, Jughead loved to learn and soaked up every piece of information he was given and until recently he had hoped to take his Father’s repertoire of knowledge apply to a career outside of Riverdale and the Serpents. Those were childish thoughts and as they say there must come a time when you put away such fantasies and face the reality of your life.

That time came to Jughead Jones at about 3 am on a rainy Sunday morning his Senior year of high school. His father had been picked up smuggling guns across state lines. It was too big a rap to beat and everyone knew it. F.P. Jones would be serving some serious time in a Federal Prison. With their leader behind bars awaiting an ultimately horrible sentence the Serpents faced two options; Fall apart into lawless, wild factions, or instate a new leader and quickly. A part of Jughead didn’t much care which they chose. He secretly wished they would just implode in on themselves and maybe take their whole corrupt legacy with them. But, contrary to the beliefs of the Northside society, the Serpents did serve a very important function in Riverdale. They maintained the law and order of Sunnydale Trailer park. They protected kids from abusive homes, provided jobs to the unemployable, and a community to lost and rejected. Jughead knew that the Serpents must remain for any sense of peace and order in the Southside. He also knew that whoever took over his Father’s throne would affect the way of life for every man, woman, and child in the Southside.

At the time Jughead had assumed his Mother and sister were included in that population. But one night a few weeks after his father had been picked up, Jughead only days from graduation came home to find his mother packing a bag for herself and his little sister Jellybean.

“You going somewhere? Are you going to see Dad?” He asked. He was confused and a pit of dread was building in his stomach.

His mother, Gladys, stops and looks at him with face that Jughead is all too familiar with. It is an expression that he knows is always followed with disappoint on his part. “No, Jughead, I’m not. I don’t ever want to see your Father again.”

“Mom”

“He made his choice and he left us Jughead, I’m not going to stick around and be an easy target to his enemies.” She says matter of fact.

“What enemies? Where are you going? What about Jellybean?” The dread building in his stomach.

“Oh Jughead. There is so much you don’t know yet. So much your Father didn’t prepare you for, so much I didn’t prepare you for, and I’m sorry. But you are a man now Jughead and you have certain responsibilities, certain things that come with being a Jones. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Jughead shakes his head fiercely; trying to shake his mother’s words out of his head. He doesn’t want to hear this bullshit again. He doesn’t want responsibilities or obligations, or any damn blood right. Especially not the throne of shitty biker gang full of drunks in a dead-end town that is too small to even have a Wal-Mart.

“No. No, that’s stupid. This isn’t a fucking monarchy. There are a hundred people in this trailer park who want to be the leader, who would kill for it, but it will kill me Mom. I can’t and I won’t. I want to go with you. I want out.”

“Jughead I love you. There is nothing more I want for you than to get out of all of this, but you can’t run from this. They will find you. If you come with us, you will only bring us trouble, maybe… worse.”

“Mom…”

“I’m sorry. I have to think of Jellybean.”

“Fuck you. You are thinking of yourself. Like you always have. You could have left years ago, we all could have, but you had a nice life here with Dad in charge, and now your scared, so your going to run. The both of you leaving me to clean up your mess.” He shouts.

He throws his hands in the air in desperation. He wants to cry, to plead with her, to appeal to her motherly side and talk her out of leaving him. Sure, he is eighteen and will be graduating in a matter of days, but in so many ways he is still a child. He is still in need of his mother. But if he is being honest, if she ever was a mother to him at all, she hadn’t been in years.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry for so much, more than you’ll ever know. And I know that I messed up with you. I know I didn’t do the right thing; I should have protected you. I should have been a better mother. But I have the chance to do the right thing with Jellybean. You understand, don’t you?” Her voice has a desperation in it he isn’t used to.

He can tell that she really does want him to understand. She wants his acceptance. A spiteful part of him wants to deny her this, but he knows her decision has long since been made and nothing he says will change her mind.

“I do, Mom.” He says quietly.

And so, they leave. Leave him alone in a cold, cramped trailer. Alone with so many questions and responsibilities, and unknowns. The only thing he can think of is to turn the one person he knows can relate to his situation.

He passes all his classes, but he declines to walk at graduation. There would be no one there to see him anyways. Instead he drives to the prison and waits around in a windowless room until visitor hours.

“She gone?” F.P. asks the question he already knows the answer to.

Jughead just nods.

“Alright.” He clears his throat.

He lets go of any emotion he may have about hearing his wife left him and embraces the cold, calculated mask of the gang leader.

“Alright Jughead, this is what you are going to do”

————————

Thank you all for the support on chapter one.

Gonna try to post every day or two. Pretty much have this story all planned out.

Like/reblog if you want me to keep going

Leave me a comment

[sideblogsandsnogs]

Ghost That We Knew

No beta and pretty tired sorry for a spelling or grammar mistakes.

Chapter Two

There was no one specific instance that let Jughead know that he was unwanted, unwelcome in Riverdale, the town with pep. It had been a burdening feeling for as long as he could remember. Perhaps a generational imprint from decades of outcast Jones’ before him. His mother too was an undesirable. Local gossip painting her as anything from a witch, to a kingpin to a run-of-the-mill loser. Jughead had long since let go of any childhood fantasy of becoming accepted. He used to try. Straight A’s, writing for the school paper, staying late to help tutor a fellow student. But destiny is a strong and pervasive force in little towns like Riverdale and sooner or later it came for him. It pushed him towards his legacy of crime and debauchery. As far as the Northside of Riverdale was concerned the Serpents were a gang of lazy, low-life drunks who hung around causing trouble and riding around on crappy bikes. Now that was true of a small number of the Serpents, but they had grown in number under the calculated ad business minded eye of F.P. Jones, Jughead’s Father. He was a natural born leader and while he didn’t exactly excel in academics in High School his time as Captain of the Varsity football team had taught him the power of hierarchy. F.P. Jones was exceptionally good at figuring out peoples needs and how to satisfy them, by any means (often illegal means) necessary. He was savvy and an excellent judge of character. He always knew who to make the muscle, who let talk, who let handle the money, and who was better left behind. Jughead often thought that had his Father ever been given an actual opportunity he would have been an excellent businessman. F.P., though not exactly a doting Father, had taught Jughead everything he knew about the Serpents and their way of life and leadership. F.P. did want more for his son than the life of a gang leader, but almost every shred of hope had been beaten out of him time and time again by the tides of life and he had lost the ability to expect any good to come to anyone even remotely associated with himself. He knew that if Jughead was going to be in the Serpents it would be a hell of a lot better to be a leader than a follower.

Jughead had always resented his Father’s little lessons. He hated that the only time his Father ever showed the least bit of interest in him was to teach how to be a criminal. However, Jughead loved to learn and soaked up every piece of information he was given and until recently he had hoped to take his Father’s repertoire of knowledge apply to a career outside of Riverdale and the Serpents. Those were childish thoughts and as they say there must come a time when you put away such fantasies and face the reality of your life.

That time came to Jughead Jones at about 3 am on a rainy Sunday morning his Senior year of high school. His father had been picked up smuggling guns across state lines. It was too big a rap to beat and everyone knew it. F.P. Jones would be serving some serious time in a Federal Prison. With their leader behind bars awaiting an ultimately horrible sentence the Serpents faced two options; Fall apart into lawless, wild factions, or instate a new leader and quickly. A part of Jughead didn’t much care which they chose. He secretly wished they would just implode in on themselves and maybe take their whole corrupt legacy with them. But, contrary to the beliefs of the Northside society, the Serpents did serve a very important function in Riverdale. They maintained the law and order of Sunnydale Trailer park. They protected kids from abusive homes, provided jobs to the unemployable, and a community to lost and rejected. Jughead knew that the Serpents must remain for any sense of peace and order in the Southside. He also knew that whoever took over his Father’s throne would affect the way of life for every man, woman, and child in the Southside.

At the time Jughead had assumed his Mother and sister were included in that population. But one night a few weeks after his father had been picked up, Jughead only days from graduation came home to find his mother packing a bag for herself and his little sister Jellybean.

“You going somewhere? Are you going to see Dad?” He asked. He was confused and a pit of dread was building in his stomach.

His mother, Gladys, stops and looks at him with face that Jughead is all too familiar with. It is an expression that he knows is always followed with disappoint on his part. “No, Jughead, I’m not. I don’t ever want to see your Father again.”

“Mom”

“He made his choice and he left us Jughead, I’m not going to stick around and be an easy target to his enemies.” She says matter of fact.

“What enemies? Where are you going? What about Jellybean?” The dread building in his stomach.

“Oh Jughead. There is so much you don’t know yet. So much your Father didn’t prepare you for, so much I didn’t prepare you for, and I’m sorry. But you are a man now Jughead and you have certain responsibilities, certain things that come with being a Jones. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Jughead shakes his head fiercely; trying to shake his mother’s words out of his head. He doesn’t want to hear this bullshit again. He doesn’t want responsibilities or obligations, or any damn blood right. Especially not the throne of shitty biker gang full of drunks in a dead-end town that is too small to even have a Wal-Mart.

“No. No, that’s stupid. This isn’t a fucking monarchy. There are a hundred people in this trailer park who want to be the leader, who would kill for it, but it will kill me Mom. I can’t and I won’t. I want to go with you. I want out.”

“Jughead I love you. There is nothing more I want for you than to get out of all of this, but you can’t run from this. They will find you. If you come with us, you will only bring us trouble, maybe… worse.”

“Mom…”

“I’m sorry. I have to think of Jellybean.”

“Fuck you. You are thinking of yourself. Like you always have. You could have left years ago, we all could have, but you had a nice life here with Dad in charge, and now your scared, so your going to run. The both of you leaving me to clean up your mess.” He shouts.

He throws his hands in the air in desperation. He wants to cry, to plead with her, to appeal to her motherly side and talk her out of leaving him. Sure, he is eighteen and will be graduating in a matter of days, but in so many ways he is still a child. He is still in need of his mother. But if he is being honest, if she ever was a mother to him at all, she hadn’t been in years.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry for so much, more than you’ll ever know. And I know that I messed up with you. I know I didn’t do the right thing; I should have protected you. I should have been a better mother. But I have the chance to do the right thing with Jellybean. You understand, don’t you?” Her voice has a desperation in it he isn’t used to.

He can tell that she really does want him to understand. She wants his acceptance. A spiteful part of him wants to deny her this, but he knows her decision has long since been made and nothing he says will change her mind.

“I do, Mom.” He says quietly.

And so, they leave. Leave him alone in a cold, cramped trailer. Alone with so many questions and responsibilities, and unknowns. The only thing he can think of is to turn the one person he knows can relate to his situation.

He passes all his classes, but he declines to walk at graduation. There would be no one there to see him anyways. Instead he drives to the prison and waits around in a windowless room until visitor hours.

“She gone?” F.P. asks the question he already knows the answer to.

Jughead just nods.

“Alright.” He clears his throat.

He lets go of any emotion he may have about hearing his wife left him and embraces the cold, calculated mask of the gang leader.

“Alright Jughead, this is what you are going to do”

————————

Thank you all for the support on chapter one.

Gonna try to post every day or two. Pretty much have this story all planned out.

Like/reblog if you want me to keep going

Leave me a comment

[sideblogsandsnogs]

Ghost That We Knew

No beta and pretty tired sorry for a spelling or grammar mistakes.

Chapter Two

There was no one specific instance that let Jughead know that he was unwanted, unwelcome in Riverdale, the town with pep. It had been a burdening feeling for as long as he could remember. Perhaps a generational imprint from decades of outcast Jones’ before him. His mother too was an undesirable. Local gossip painting her as anything from a witch, to a kingpin to a run-of-the-mill loser. Jughead had long since let go of any childhood fantasy of becoming accepted. He used to try. Straight A’s, writing for the school paper, staying late to help tutor a fellow student. But destiny is a strong and pervasive force in little towns like Riverdale and sooner or later it came for him. It pushed him towards his legacy of crime and debauchery. As far as the Northside of Riverdale was concerned the Serpents were a gang of lazy, low-life drunks who hung around causing trouble and riding around on crappy bikes. Now that was true of a small number of the Serpents, but they had grown in number under the calculated ad business minded eye of F.P. Jones, Jughead’s Father. He was a natural born leader and while he didn’t exactly excel in academics in High School his time as Captain of the Varsity football team had taught him the power of hierarchy. F.P. Jones was exceptionally good at figuring out peoples needs and how to satisfy them, by any means (often illegal means) necessary. He was savvy and an excellent judge of character. He always knew who to make the muscle, who let talk, who let handle the money, and who was better left behind. Jughead often thought that had his Father ever been given an actual opportunity he would have been an excellent businessman. F.P., though not exactly a doting Father, had taught Jughead everything he knew about the Serpents and their way of life and leadership. F.P. did want more for his son than the life of a gang leader, but almost every shred of hope had been beaten out of him time and time again by the tides of life and he had lost the ability to expect any good to come to anyone even remotely associated with himself. He knew that if Jughead was going to be in the Serpents it would be a hell of a lot better to be a leader than a follower.

Jughead had always resented his Father’s little lessons. He hated that the only time his Father ever showed the least bit of interest in him was to teach how to be a criminal. However, Jughead loved to learn and soaked up every piece of information he was given and until recently he had hoped to take his Father’s repertoire of knowledge apply to a career outside of Riverdale and the Serpents. Those were childish thoughts and as they say there must come a time when you put away such fantasies and face the reality of your life.

That time came to Jughead Jones at about 3 am on a rainy Sunday morning his Senior year of high school. His father had been picked up smuggling guns across state lines. It was too big a rap to beat and everyone knew it. F.P. Jones would be serving some serious time in a Federal Prison. With their leader behind bars awaiting an ultimately horrible sentence the Serpents faced two options; Fall apart into lawless, wild factions, or instate a new leader and quickly. A part of Jughead didn’t much care which they chose. He secretly wished they would just implode in on themselves and maybe take their whole corrupt legacy with them. But, contrary to the beliefs of the Northside society, the Serpents did serve a very important function in Riverdale. They maintained the law and order of Sunnydale Trailer park. They protected kids from abusive homes, provided jobs to the unemployable, and a community to lost and rejected. Jughead knew that the Serpents must remain for any sense of peace and order in the Southside. He also knew that whoever took over his Father’s throne would affect the way of life for every man, woman, and child in the Southside.

At the time Jughead had assumed his Mother and sister were included in that population. But one night a few weeks after his father had been picked up, Jughead only days from graduation came home to find his mother packing a bag for herself and his little sister Jellybean.

“You going somewhere? Are you going to see Dad?” He asked. He was confused and a pit of dread was building in his stomach.

His mother, Gladys, stops and looks at him with face that Jughead is all too familiar with. It is an expression that he knows is always followed with disappoint on his part. “No, Jughead, I’m not. I don’t ever want to see your Father again.”

“Mom”

“He made his choice and he left us Jughead, I’m not going to stick around and be an easy target to his enemies.” She says matter of fact.

“What enemies? Where are you going? What about Jellybean?” The dread building in his stomach.

“Oh Jughead. There is so much you don’t know yet. So much your Father didn’t prepare you for, so much I didn’t prepare you for, and I’m sorry. But you are a man now Jughead and you have certain responsibilities, certain things that come with being a Jones. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Jughead shakes his head fiercely; trying to shake his mother’s words out of his head. He doesn’t want to hear this bullshit again. He doesn’t want responsibilities or obligations, or any damn blood right. Especially not the throne of shitty biker gang full of drunks in a dead-end town that is too small to even have a Wal-Mart.

“No. No, that’s stupid. This isn’t a fucking monarchy. There are a hundred people in this trailer park who want to be the leader, who would kill for it, but it will kill me Mom. I can’t and I won’t. I want to go with you. I want out.”

“Jughead I love you. There is nothing more I want for you than to get out of all of this, but you can’t run from this. They will find you. If you come with us, you will only bring us trouble, maybe… worse.”

“Mom…”

“I’m sorry. I have to think of Jellybean.”

“Fuck you. You are thinking of yourself. Like you always have. You could have left years ago, we all could have, but you had a nice life here with Dad in charge, and now your scared, so your going to run. The both of you leaving me to clean up your mess.” He shouts.

He throws his hands in the air in desperation. He wants to cry, to plead with her, to appeal to her motherly side and talk her out of leaving him. Sure, he is eighteen and will be graduating in a matter of days, but in so many ways he is still a child. He is still in need of his mother. But if he is being honest, if she ever was a mother to him at all, she hadn’t been in years.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry for so much, more than you’ll ever know. And I know that I messed up with you. I know I didn’t do the right thing; I should have protected you. I should have been a better mother. But I have the chance to do the right thing with Jellybean. You understand, don’t you?” Her voice has a desperation in it he isn’t used to.

He can tell that she really does want him to understand. She wants his acceptance. A spiteful part of him wants to deny her this, but he knows her decision has long since been made and nothing he says will change her mind.

“I do, Mom.” He says quietly.

And so, they leave. Leave him alone in a cold, cramped trailer. Alone with so many questions and responsibilities, and unknowns. The only thing he can think of is to turn the one person he knows can relate to his situation.

He passes all his classes, but he declines to walk at graduation. There would be no one there to see him anyways. Instead he drives to the prison and waits around in a windowless room until visitor hours.

“She gone?” F.P. asks the question he already knows the answer to.

Jughead just nods.

“Alright.” He clears his throat.

He lets go of any emotion he may have about hearing his wife left him and embraces the cold, calculated mask of the gang leader.

“Alright Jughead, this is what you are going to do”

————————

Thank you all for the support on chapter one.

Gonna try to post every day or two. Pretty much have this story all planned out.

Like/reblog if you want me to keep going

Leave me a comment

[sideblogsandsnogs]

in light of recent events, fuck

[sideblogsandsnogs]

Ghost that we knew

Chapter one

This is the first piece I’ve written that I’m posting it is a Bughead AU.

Summary

Betty cooper is a smart, quiet and determined girl whose life is turned upside down when her golden child, older brother Chic is found dead of a suspected overdose. Betty doesn’t like unanswered questions and Chic’s death is ripe with them. The biggest mystery is what the broody biker outcast Jughead Jones has to do with all of this. Betty is lost. Jughead is searching. And they just might have exactly what the other one is looking for.

BettyxJughead. Slow burn, platonic, major angst, humor. Hurtxcomfort. Friendship. Family drama.

Warnings: Character death. Talk of drug use. Talk of Overdose.

It was a rather understated affair considering the circumstances. The whole town had not shown up, there was no reception, no real ceremony. It was only close family. Her grandparents hadn’t even come down from Greendale. Just Betty, her sister Polly, and her Mother and Father stood around the plain black casket of her older brother Chic Cooper. This was not the goodbye that Betty had been expecting. Chic was the Captain of the Varsity football team; Or he had been before he tore his ACL last June. How short a time ago that seemed now as she stood in the Riverdale Cemetery. How had all this happened in a little over a year. How had her brother, charming, outgoing, kind, and funny turned into a person that she didn’t know in a matter of months? How had he died quietly in his room while the family was out at dinner? How had she let that happen? A part of her knew it was irrational to feel blame for this, but that was a small part of her and the rest of her being felt an overwhelming guilt and grief and confusion. Betty had always been someone who considered herself supremely observant, ever astute and a sharp reader of people and her environment, and yet she had let her own brother slip away under her nose. It was infuriating and so deeply devastating that as she stood and drowned out the monotone Preacher spewing his empty words, she felt her knees begin to shake. She felt bile rise up from her stomach to her throat and she wanted so badly to retch , to fall down in a heap of sobs and sorrow, to run away, as far as her weak legs would take her, or maybe scream at the top of her lungs at this old man to shut up about God’s infinity power and the ultimate plan and that everything had a bigger meaning, because no she really couldn’t see that there was ever going to be any reason, any good to come out this. But she didn’t do any of that she stood motionless and emotionless. A statue at her sister’s side. The ever-present echo of her parents in her head. Telling her to be good and respectful and calm. Telling that no one like a nosy, loud, demanding girl. Betty was familiar with her place and it was off to the side, better seen than heard. So, she tried her best to shake off the feeling that her parents felt more shame than sorrow at their son’s passing because that was too unbearable a thought to have. Suddenly Betty sensed a presence at the corner of her vision, off to the side of the cemetery where a small grove of trees separates the headstones from the road. Betty was more prepared to see a ghost than the sight of Jughead Jones leaning on his slick black and chrome motorcycle watching the ceremony. No one else seems to notice him as their backs are turned, but Betty locks eyes with him. He seems genuinely shocked as not expecting to get caught intruding on the intimate moment. She seems incapable of mustering enough energy to do anything but simply stare at him and he is either frozen or enraptured as all he does is stare back at her. She notes his furrowed brow and deep-set frown. He looks sincerely upset and that confuses her beyond belief. She wonders if watching funerals is a hobby of his, he has certainly garnered a reputation that would not make such a hobby surprising, but there is something in his eyes that make her think that isn’t right. He doesn’t look like an observer to this affair, but much like a participant of their grief. That fills Betty with such a burning curiosity that for just a moment she is relieved of the crushing weight of sadness that constantly accompanies her. But, as soon as she furrows her own brow, he starts up his bike and speeds away toward the looming trees and she is reunited with her hollowness once again.

Betty turns back once Jughead is fully out of sight and sees the casket begin it’s painfully slow decent into the ground. She makes herself imagine that Chic’s body is not inside and that he is simply at football camp, or out with friends, or truly anywhere else. But she knows the truth. And the most important thing to Betty Cooper is the truth. She needs facts and answers, and as the casket slips down and she is ushered forward to throw her handful of earth she silently promises to herself and to Chic that any and all questions will be answered, and Betty Cooper never breaks a promise.

I’ve pretty much got this story mapped out so let me know what you think and if you’re interested in me continuing with it. Thank you

[sideblogsandsnogs]

*likes your selfie to let you know you can get it*

[sideblogsandsnogs]

[sideblogsandsnogs]

The first time I heard an adult say the f word was when I was in fourth grade and we were doing some project that involved us baking cookies together as a class. My teacher Ms. Lindsey, who was real sweet, was demonstrating for everybody and she asked if anyone knew how to crack an egg, and I really didn’t know how to crack an egg, but I’m a go-getter, so I raised my hand and she called on me. I instantly knew I was in trouble at that point but I’d seen my dad crack eggs hundreds of times so I figured, ya know, it can’t be thaaaat hard. So I grab the egg but I have no sense of how softly you’re supposed to tap an egg to crack it, so I just slam it against the desk and splatter raw egg ten feet in every direction and my teacher said “what the fuck, Dion?”

[sideblogsandsnogs]

[sideblogsandsnogs]

[sideblogsandsnogs]

[sideblogsandsnogs]

# hey cw, *softly, but with a lot of feeling* WHAT THE FUCK?

[sideblogsandsnogs]

[sideblogsandsnogs]

No one disrespects my mom

[sideblogsandsnogs]

[sideblogsandsnogs]

Sketches for sets for Jean Cocteau’s “La Belle et la Bête”

Christian Bérard,

1946