#justice for the curly coated retriever

[merosmenagerie]

Hoping for the curly coated retriever to take group tonight for the sake of the actual breed that SHOULD have become popular instead of the doodle and is instead in massive decline <3

[noukah]

Drew a Curly-Coated Retriever for this year’s Doggust. Hope I gave the breed justice :)

[talondoodle]

Arctic Comic Con Prints! 

[dearlazerbunny]

Something Borrowed

Pairings: Poe x Reader, You x friends with the SW Crew

Genre/Rating: G,

Words: 3,000

Summary: So a looooong time ago @molmcb had the hilarious idea of putting all our favorites into a TLC Say Yes to the Dress type scenario. Today, I emerge from my antibiotics-fueled haze to hopefully do this idea some justice? Maybe? I’ll probably re-write this at some point to try and make it actually funny. 

“Poe. Poe!” You tug against Poe’s hand, which has your wrist in a vice grip as he pulls you down the street. “Will you please- stop!”

Your voice is loud enough that he actually complies, pausing in the middle of the busy NYC sidewalk to look at you. “What is it?”

His apparent naïveté almost makes you laugh . Almost. “Poe. You haven’t given me the faintest clue of where we’re going. You have a big black duffel bag on your back- which makes you look like a bank robber, by the way- and you won’t tell me what’s inside, and wherever it is apparently requires a full face of makeup at 11:00 in the morning…? Can I have some context here, please?”

He shrugs his shoulders, and you want to kiss- or smack- that dopey little grin he has on right off his face. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

You sigh. “And you won’t even give me a hint?” The look on his face says it all- that’s a big fat no. “Fine. Proceed.” Once again he takes off like a golden retriever, you his long-suffering owner just trying to rein in all that energy and excitement.

Such has been your life since you and Poe got engaged almost a year ago- and been dating for two years prior to that. And to be honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way. His spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment outlook on life perfectly balances your methodical, calculated headspace. He keeps you on your toes, you have the power to reel him back when necessary; you keep him grounded, he reminds you to admire the stars every once in a while. It’s a match made in heaven, or so many have said, and you’re not sure if you exactly believe in heaven but you definitely believe in the man dragging you down the street. So you follow, tripping over your own feet, knowing that wherever he’s taking you is bound to be an adventure of one kind or another.

“Okay. Close your eyes.” You’ve just rounded the corner of yet another crowded sidewalk, and you glance around at all the people rushing by.

“Here? Now?”

“Yup.” He’s beaming at you. “I won’t let anyone hit you, I promise.”

“A tall order.” Reluctantly, you do so, keeping your eyes open just a smidge, looking at the sidewalk so you don’t trip over an uneven patch of concrete. He leads you slowly down the road, one step at a time, before finally stopping, putting his hands on your shoulders, and turning you towards a particular building. You can’t see anything but the brick meeting the concrete. “Can I… can I open them?”

“Okay, ready- open.”

You do so. In front of you is a huge storefront window filled to the brim with white dresses of all shapes and sizes, some of them twinkling and catching the light. KLEINFELD, written in big black letters, sparkles against the brick. You feel your eyes widen. “You did not.”

“I did,” he says proudly, and now you do smack him, albeit lightly and playfully on the shoulder.

“Poe Dameron! I told you I didn’t want a big ordeal about this dress!”

“I know, I know, but the wedding is getting closer and Rey told me you didn’t have anything- really, this was all her idea, so don’t blame me-”

“I’m going to kill her,” you mutter, and Poe shakes his curly head.

“The appointment is in fifteen minutes. If you really don’t want to, we can cancel it. But I just thought… even if you don’t want it, you deserve something this big, you know? You deserve to know you mean the world to me.”

Goddamnit, how are you supposed to be mad at the man when he gets all poetic on you like that? You pull him into a hug, arms around his neck, then plant a kiss on his cheek. “I think this is one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done,” you say, “but just the fact that you went to all this trouble means the world to me.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “How Did you even set this up?���

Another smile splits his face. “That’s surprise number two. Come on.” He goes over to the double doors and pulls one open, dwarfing him by at least four feet. “Mi’lady.”

“Oh, shut up.” But there’s a grin on your lips as you walk inside the wedding wonderland. Kleinfeld has been made famous in the wedding industry thanks mostly to its TV show and similar spin-offs, Say Yes to the Dress. You’ve seen the show, of course- what girl hasn’t?- and like everyone you’ve occasionally given a thought to someday visiting the behemoth boutique, especially since it’s right in your hometown. But Poe and you are having a simple wedding, with just family and close friends, so there’s absolutely no need to drop thousands of dollars on a dress. You’d be just as happy with something off the rack at Macy’s.

But still… he went to all this trouble. And Rey is right, you don’t have a dress yet. Plus he said there was another surprise? It’s fair to say you’re thoroughly hooked. So you walk into the lobby and are greeted by a slim woman in all black with a pleasant smile on her face. “Y/N?” You nod. “Excellent, we’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Kleinfeld. Can we take your coats? Your party is waiting right over here…” she glides off into the showroom, which is already filled with dozens of brides making the most important decision of their entire wedding. Party? You glance at Poe, wondering what he has up his sleeve, but he just follows the concierge into the depths of white lace.

When you see the couch right smack in the center of the room, you stop, mouth open. Because even though all of the people on it are facing away from you, there’s no mistaking that three-bun hairstyle sitting on the end. Shrieking, you run over and pull your best friend into a hug from behind, not even caring if you’re suffocating her. “Rey! What- how?” You’re completely speechless, and above Rey’s giggles you hear a voice cut through the din.

“What, we don’t deserve a hello?” You turn and nearly scream again, right in Armitage’s face. 

“Oh my GOD, Armi! Hello! Hi!” You hug him as well, and just as you’re catching your breath, you pull back a little. “Wait, is everyone…?” You look around you. Finn is sitting next to Rey, looking very uncomfortable perched on the velvet pillows, but he manages a small wave as you look at him. On the opposite end of the couch, Kylo is rolling his eyes at your meltdown, but when you kick him in the ankle he smiles at you. “Everyone is here. Everyone is here?” After making Finn and then Kylo stand for a hug, you turn back to Poe, who is standing a bit away with his arms crossed, looking on at the scene. “Did you do this?”

He smiles modestly. “I figured you might need some help deciding.”

“How in the world-” you look back at the group, still one hundred percent in shock. “Rey, aren’t you supposed to be in Honolulu?” You turn to Armitage and Kylo. “And I know you two should be on base in, like, Italy?”

The hazards of having friends who are all, in some capacity, in the military, is that they are absolutely never in the same place at the same time. In fact, they are usually thousands and thousands of miles apart from each other, and only come home one at a time. Christmas is basically impossible. You don’t think you’ve seen everyone sitting together in one room since college. “I was,” Rey pipes up, “but I think my best friend’s wedding dress is a little more important.”

You look at Finn, who shrugs. “Rey called my superior and told him I had a family emergency.”

While you give Rey a dirty look, Armitage is unwrinkling his impeccable monochromatic black ensemble from your enthusiastic hug. “I was due for a holiday anyways, and I was in the area.”

“In civilian clothes, too.” You always tease him about his love of fashion, and yet he’s stuck in a general’s uniform most of his days. Finally, you turn to Kylo. “And I suppose the Air Force just let you have a day for a lie-in?”

Kylo snorts. “Technically, I had a training run today, but my engine had a mysteriously complicated malfunction just yesterday.” When you raise an eyebrow at him, he sighs. “Yes, I know how to fix it, don’t worry.” You weren’t really. Kylo knows every bit of his plane, and if he wants to cause a deliberate mess, it’s a guarantee that only he will be the one who knows how to fix it.

“You are all terrible, terrible people,” you say, but your smile is so big you doubt it comes out threatening at all. The group gives various degrees of mock disbelief and woundedness, making you laugh. God, you’ve missed these people. Your eye strays to an empty chair perched at the end of the couch, making you furrow your brow. “Is someone missing?”

“Fashionably late, I’m sure.” Poe checks his watch, but when he looks up his face takes on a tender look. “Leia.”

“Poe.” The older woman comes gliding across the floor, led by yet another employee in black. Draped in robes that make her look more regal than any of the gowns around her, she pats the side of Poe’s face affectionately. “How are you, dear?”

Poe leans down to kiss the side of her cheek. “Set to marry the love of my life, how do you think I am?”

Leia comes over to you next, and you have to blink back a few tears. Now your group is truly complete. It wouldn’t be right to be missing practically the entire group’s surrogate mother. She almost raised Poe, then took in Rey and Finn when they needed a home. And of course, she’s Kylo’s actual mom. It’s easy to forget though- a tall, dark, snarky Air Force pilot next to a demure, kind woman. They both have the same fire in their eyes, though, when you really look. “Leia,” you say as you bend down to give her a hug. She envelopes you in the folds of her sleeves so fiercely you’re almost taken by surprise.

“My dear,” she smiles at you. “It’s been too long.”

You giggle. “We literally went for brunch last week.”

“One week too long them, hm?” There’s a twinkle in her eye as she moves to the rest of the group. Rey and Finn both bound up to give her a hug, clearly overjoyed to see her. Armitage gives her a warm handshake, and while Kylo is clearly a little reluctant, on the inside he’s a mamma’s boy through and through, and stoops to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Once she’s seated at the head of the party- no other spot would do- you have to hold back tears. All of your favorite people in one room. It’s a miracle, and you pull Poe to your side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Best. Surprise. Ever.”

“Good,” he murmurs back, smiling at you like you’re the whole world. Rey helpfully makes gagging noises in the background.

“Are you the Dameron party?” An elegant woman in a simple black dress glides up to the seven of you, her soft lilac bob somehow perfectly complimenting her angular features.

“That would be us, and I apologize for it in advance,” you respond.

She gives you a soft smile. “And you would be my bride. No, no- I’ve been at this a while, I have a knack for these things.” You shut your mouth, along with the question of how she had guessed. “Are we ready to start?”

Oh, lord. With the complete surprise of having everyone here, you forgot you’re actually going to have to pick out a dress while you’re here. Stars, help you. “I guess so!” You glance down at your sweats. “Oh, gosh, I’m not even dressed for this am I? I don’t even have heels with me.” Not to mention a proper bra. You’re about to not-so-subtly commandeer Rey’s- hey, desperate times- when Poe slings that mysterious duffel bag at you.

“I’ve got ya, babe, don’t even worry.” You unzip the top to reveal everything you’ll need- shoes, bras, even hair ties and accessories.

“I guess I don’t really have an excuse then, do I?”

“Mmmmmnope.” He gives you another grin and a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit. Try not to let Arm and Kylo talk you into a black dress.”

“It would be slimming!” Armitage throws after him, followed by a snort from Kylo. You give them both a look that says behave, please, we are in public and go to follow your consultant to a dressing room.

…

Over the next two hours….

“A bow around the waist? Maybe if you’re going to dress Rey as the flower girl. When she was like, twelve.” (Cue a swat from Rey, and Armitage deflecting by fixing his hair).

“It’s very… shiny?” (Finn, on a dress with crystals hemming the neckline).

“I thought you wanted something simple? What’s all…? (Kylo, waving his hand vaguely at the skirt of a dress that contains a bunch of ruffles).

“No, nope, absolutely not, because I’M wearing that when I get married!!!” (Rey, who has apparently fallen in love with a chiffon number you’re modeling [she took down the style number for future reference]).

“YES. Perfect. It’s perfect, don’t you think?” (You’d put on some avant-garde high fashion dress you’d never wear in a million years just for laughs, but of course Armitage loves it).

“Needs more black. Or leather.” (Leia gives her son a stern look).

“HOly- how much did they pay you to put that on?” (Yeah, bit too much cleavage in this one).

“You don’t even look like you can breathe in that one!” “On the plus side, those corset laces could be used as a garrote.” “I think the heel of her shoe would be more effective, actually.” (Cue ten or so minutes of the entire group debating on what part of your wedding outfit will be the most deadly).

“Poe is a klutz, you KNOW if you wear a train he’s just going to trip over it, knock over some candles, and light the whole church on fire.”

…

There’s a knock on your dressing room door, and you crack it open to find Leia standing there. “May I come in, dear?”

“Of course, yeah-” you step aside and sit back down in your chair, centered across from the row of dresses you’ve discarded, and resume your thinking.

“Forgive me, but you seem to be having some trouble.”

You sigh. “I kind of like this one?” You hesitantly touch the bodice of a dress everyone seemed neutral towards- but at least they didn’t hate it. “I don’t know. Nothing seems- right. And I don’t mean to be picky, but…”

“Don’t be sorry. You only get to pick a dress once, after all.” As she’s talking, she’s rummaging through her bag. “I brought something that might help. You may hate it, but… well. You always said you liked it in the photos.” She pulls a neatly folded bundle of white out of her purse, and lets it drape to the floor.

“Leia- you didn’t.”

“Go on, try it on. I have a feeling it will look beautiful on you.”

The second you slide on the dress, you immediately forget about all the other rejects. The fabric is still immaculate, the shape timeless. You’re taller than Leia, but it hits you at about tea-length, which is perfect for a casual wedding. Miraculously, everywhere else, it fits perfectly- almost like it was made for you. Facing yourself in the mirror, your mind immediately fills in the details- Poe beside you, in uniform, Rey holding your bouquet just a little behind you, the rest of your friends surrounding you… “It’s perfect. It really is. How did you know?”

Leia’s smile is brighter than all the rhinestones in the entire boutique. “Call it a mother’s intuition. Shall we show the others?”

You nod, quickly twisting your hair up into an approximation of an updo before walking out to meet the group.

There’s a small gasp from Rey. Finn’s eyes go wide. Kylo, of course, recognizes the dress and it puts a smile on his face, however slight it may be. Even Armitage’s appraising eye seems to soften a little as you take your place on the pedestal in front of the mirror.

“I love it,” you say, and there’s overwhelming agreement from the rest of the group.

Rey comes up and stands by your side, her eyes a little misty as she throws an arm around your waist and hugs you close. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

You smile at her. “Think Poe will like it?” “You could show up in a sack and he wouldn’t know the difference,” she says laughingly. “But yes, I think he will.”

Pretty soon everyone is gathered around you, crammed into the space in front of the mirror, all their faces reflecting the myriad of feelings you’ve got filling your chest. With Rey hugging your side, Armitage behind you draping the skirt of the dress just so, Kylo unabashedly tucking a stray piece of hair back into your impromptu bun, and Finn looking terrified to touch you- all the while Leia stands to the side, looking proud- you take a mental snapshot of the scene, never wanting to let this feeling go.

[aion-rsa]

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 7 Review: H Unmasked At Last

https://ift.tt/39l9RLa

This Line of Duty review contains finale spoilers.

Ian Buckells, as I live and breathe. There we were, thinking you a workshy wally with one foot on the golf course and the other skidding on a banana skin, when all along… you were, well, that, but also tapping out OCG orders on your secret laptop in your secret millionaire’s pad and secret Gran Canaria timeshare. DSU Buckells. The Fourth Man. Line of Duty’s Keyser So-So.

The Buckells revelation played out for viewers just like it did for AC-12: What? Him? The sight of his curly mop in the interrogation room cut our kite strings and brought us thudding back to Earth. There’d been no mwahaha mastermind behind it all. No Moriarty-like spider of crime. The big bad was a greedy oaf who hid his criminality undercover of thickness. Since the death of Tommy Hunter, it’s been a machinery of small parts, one of which was called Ian. What better way to make the point that corruption is banal? 

As TV twists go, it was unglamorous but honest and well disguised. When Buckells’ name came up in that trio of bent Lawrence Christopher investigators, he was instantly discountable next to the sexier distractions of Thurwell and Osborne. Thicky Buckells? As if. That one couldn’t organise a jam sandwich, let alone multiple OCGs. Or so he’d have us believe. No, Buckells wasn’t top of many people’s suspect lists, and to quote Kate, what does that make us look like? I’ll tell you: snobs. This whole exercise was a lesson from Brummie Jed Mercurio in prejudicial attitudes towards the Birmingham accent. There are clearly more brains than anyone allowed for behind Buckells’ twang, though not an ounce of conscience. 

Conscience came into the finale in a big way thanks to Ted Hastings, who didn’t just talk the talk on accountability. Ted’s conscience marched him into Carmichael’s office, where he put his hands up for the leak that led to John Corbett’s murder. A vacuum of integrity, she only shrugged. Carry the fire? Carmichael doesn’t even carry her own coat. 

If this does turn out to be the last ever episode of Line of Duty, at least we know that Ted won’t go to his grave unshriven. His real confession was made earlier to Steve and Kate in one of several emotional speeches with which Adrian Dunbar tore the roof off this episode. Exasperation. Indignation. Desperation. Ted’s pain was a foghorn reverberating through his every scene. 

You could understand his position. All that work, all those deaths and bolt cutters and balaclavas and shock twists, for AC-12 to finally solve the Vella murder and unmask H. Then what? Nothing. No commendation or reversal from the CC, just another ‘rotten apples and lessons learned’ public statement. Business as usual. Worse than usual. The series was pointedly left on the sour note that AC-12 has never been weaker in its fight against corruption. 

Read more

TV

Line of Duty: Will There Be a Series 7?

By Louisa Mellor

TV

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 7: H, The Fourth Man, the End of AC-12 & All Our Questions & Theories

By Louisa Mellor

Though the war wasn’t won, the finale did offer some victories in battle. It punished the HMP Brentiss goons, and shook up Fairbank, now the Compo of corrupt coppers. It also rewarded some ill-used victims. Farida went back to work. Terry moved into a loving home. And Jo’s present whereabouts may be classified, but any fool can see that witness protection has lodged her in lesbian heaven. (That sunny-Golden-Retriever-knitwear-wellies-and-redhead paradise couldn’t have been more different from whichever bleaksville coastline Gill Biggeloe washed up on last series. The system may be pocked by wrongdoing, but there is at least some justice in Line of Duty’s world.)

Steve and Kate’s ending was also reassuring. They’ve got each other, Steve may also have “copper’s wife, me” Steph, and they’re both getting professional help to cope with the fallout of almost a decade of playing the leads in the hottest crime thriller around. 

Some time off at a spa is due, surely, for that white van switcheroo stunt. Finally! After countless ambushes by the OCG over the years, at long last AC-12 turned the tables and got there first. The baddies were expecting to find Jo in the back of that prison vehicle, but instead got a faceful of Fleming. Triumphant.

That wasn’t AC-12’s only win. Forced to sit inside the unbearable fartcloud of Buckells’ smugness for most of his interview, they boxed clever with a three-punch attack that wiped the smile from his face. Did he and/or Osborne order the murder of Gail Vella, Ted asked. Fail to answer and Buckells would be seen as not cooperating, losing his right to witness protection. Admit to it, and he’d be charged with conspiracy to murder and thereby lose his right to immunity from prosecution. “Nobody makes mugs of AC-12,” crowed Ted, a man who’s clearly never been on Etsy.

It felt like an ending-ending. So has this whole series, with its concentration of returning faces and fan-pleasing Ted-isms, and the increasing volume of its protest. If this is the end, then viewers weren’t short-changed. Far from it. Series six indulged its audience to an insane degree, continually throwing the ball for us as we joyfully ran and fetched, ran and fetched, saliva and madcap theories flying. 

This finale’s ‘plus ça change’ cynicism was to be expected – the first run ended on a similarly wry note. Less expected was this series’ earnestness. Through the mouthpieces of Gail Vella and Ted “What has happened to us?” Hastings, the police thriller delivered a polemic against the degradation of moral standards in public office. By ending on a speech about the blind eyes that have to be turned for villains to hide in plain sight, it transcended the diverting search for H and bent coppers, and tapped into a regrettably urgent theme of now.

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[juggieheadcoopers-blog]

I was wondering if you could write a fic (inspired by the Extra gum commercial) where for every momentous event that happened in their life (First meet, first kiss, etc), Jughead writes about his feelings about her and he compiles all his little notes until the end where he gives it to Betty before proposing to her Ps. if you could have it where Jughead includes his proposal note for Betty to read before he actually proposes to her, I'll probably die from the feels

Ah! Sorry this took so long, I loved the idea so much but I wasn’t sure how I wanted to execute it so I hope it does this amazing request justice!

A/N: I wasn’t sure of when they first met in canon, so I just made something up. Sorry if it’s totally wrong lol. Also, I referenced a fic I wrote about their first date so you can find that here. Hope you like it @jeemyjamz!!!

–

Betty stepped into Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe expecting to find Jughead waiting for her in the same booth they had been meeting at since they were kids. Instead, she found the entire restaurant decorated the way it had been on their first date nearly ten years ago, twinkle lights and candles illuminating the entire room in a beautiful white light that made everything glow.

“Juggie?” Betty called out to the empty restaurant, scanning the room from one end to the other for any sign of him and realizing that he was nowhere to be found. In fact, it looked as though there was no one working in the kitchen or behind the counter either. She was completely alone. And it was starting to make her nervous.

“Okay, don’t freak out, you’re fine,” Betty muttered to herself, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it into a booth next to her. But instead of landing in the booth, the long black coat missed the seat completely and landed into a heap on the floor. Frustrated, Betty bent down to retrieve it when she noticed markings on the tile that hadn’t been there the previous day. “What’s this?”

Betty leaned forward to find that a line of arrows were drawn in thick black marker all along the tiled floor. Curious, Betty followed their lead until she ended up standing in front of the same booth she had thought she would find Jughead when she first entered the restaurant. But instead of her boyfriend, she found a thick, leather-bound journal waiting for her on the table. Picking it up, she noticed the sticky note stuck to the cover and smiled to herself, reading the words slowly as she took in the familiar slant of Jughead’s handwriting.

“Betty Cooper, if you weren’t such as grade-A super sleuth, I wouldn’t have trusted you to find this - but luckily for me, you’re a much better detective than I ever was so I suspect you have found the journal and are reading this note right now. I guess I should tell you that I’m giving this to you because I’ve been writing in this book since I was ten-years-old and every single entry is a memory of our time together. I’ve marked the ones of the most interest and am hoping that you will read them and not think less of me. Once you’ve reached the last page and you have followed the directions, you will find me waiting for you. Have fun traveling down memory lane. See you on the other side.”

Taking a deep breath, Betty opened to the first marked page and began to read. 

The First Day of Kindergarten (Age 5)

This is the day I first met you. I saw your parents dropping you off in the classroom and remember thinking that you had the shiniest blonde hair I had ever seen. All I could think about the entire day - during nap time and recess and snack - was running up to you and pulling on that curly blonde ponytail of yours. So I did. And while most of the girls in our class would have cried or screamed or thrown blocks at my head, you simply turned around, smiled that sweet smile of yours, and said, “Hi. I’m Betty Cooper. If you want, you can sit with me on the carpet during circle time. I’ll even let you touch my ponytail. All you have to do is ask.” I couldn’t believe it. A five-year-old with better manners than most of the adults in my life. My mind couldn’t fully grasp it, and I knew, even if I didn’t fully understand it at the time, that my entire world was about to change. So once I learned how to write in complete sentences without fully botching the grammar - that’s when I started this journal for you. A journal of all the times you changed my life. A journal of how my world continues to change everyday because of you.

Betty flipped to the next page and immediately noticed that the handwriting had changed. These were the entries that he had written when he was a kid. And they were addressed to her.

The Day You Let Me Sit On Your Swing Set (Age 10)

I spent most of the day crying. My dad’s drinking again. He’s so angry at mom and Jellybean is scared and I just needed to get away from them. So I took Jellybean and we just kept walking until we found ourselves in front of your house. You saw us and without saying a word, you led us into your backyard. You got Jellybean a popsicle because you saw that she was sad, and then we just sat on your swing set thinking of silly names to call the birds landing in your yard until your mom came home. It made be feel a little better. That was really nice of you and I’ll never forget it.

The Day of the Middle School Dance (Age 13)

I hate participating in school sanctioned-activities. I would rather stick a dozen pins in my eyes and beat them down with a hammer than be seen in a ridiculous suit and tie, parading through the cheaply-decorated school gym like I’m oblivious to the way everyone is looking at me like I’m the scum of the Earth but talk to me anyway because I’m friends with Archie. But anyway, I saw you sitting on the curb outside of the school, looking down at your shoes like there was a piece of gum stuck on the bottom. (But there wasn’t, I remember checking when you lifted your feet off the ground so Reggie wouldn’t run over them with his skateboard). So I sat next to you and asked you why you were sad. You said you didn’t want to talk about it, but I could see you staring at Archie from across the parking lot and I knew you were sad he didn’t ask you to the dance. I knew how badly you wanted to go. So I asked you to come to the dance with me instead. To my surprise you said yes. And we had a good time. And I think that if you wanted me to ask you to another dance, I would do it. Because I think you look really pretty in a dress. (Well, I always think you look pretty). But seeing you in a dress was different somehow. It made my heart beat really fast. And I think I liked how that felt.

The Day of Our First Kiss (Age 16)

Something has changed between us. Something I could never put into words. Something that, if I even tried to say it out loud, I would never be able to explain it in a way that would do it justice. So I climbed into your bedroom to see if you were alright after visiting Polly and I wanted to make you feel like everything was going to be okay. I wanted you to know that things had changed and you could count on me to be there for you. So I kissed you. And it was like a weight being lifted off my chest and I could finally breathe again. It felt so natural. It felt like I was meant to kiss you like that everyday for the rest of forever. And who knows, maybe I will. Although, let’s face it - we both know I’m not lucky enough to deserve that - to deserve you. I never have been.

The Day I Told You I Loved You (Age 17)

Today was the best and worst day of my life. My father’s funeral felt like it lasted an entire lifetime. It was cold and wet and gave every indication that it was recreated from a scene straight out of a Poe novel. But you were right by my side the entire time and it made it (almost) bearable to be standing there watching him get lowered into the ground. You held me when I cried. You pulled me away when I let my anger get the better of me and punched my hand through the stained glass window of the church. And when you were wrapping the bandage around my wound I felt this voice screaming at me - you have to tell her. You have to tell her before it’s too late because too late might be tomorrow and life is just too short to waste any moments. So I told you. I told you and you smiled and you said it back. And I cried again because I didn’t think anyone could ever love me like that. But you do. And I know I don’t deserve it, but I will never take it for granted.

The Day You Left Riverdale (Age 19)

I should hate you. I should be glad you’re gone and hope you never step foot on this godforsaken town’s soil ever again. I should want to wish the worst for you and hope you never succeed in anything you do. But I’m not the person I would have been if I had never met you. You changed me. So I can’t hate you. I’m too in love with you to hate you. And it kills me to write this so bluntly, but there’s no other way to put it - This sucks. And it’s you’re fault.

The Day You Came Back (Age 23)

The moment you stepped into my office, I knew I had to be having one of those hallucinations one gets when they’re stuck in the desert for days without food or water. You couldn’t be real. You couldn’t be walking towards me with your hair pulled back and your face even more beautiful than I remembered. But there you were. You were you. And I was me. And I had so much to say. So much you needed to know. But instead, I took a step towards you, and you looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and I realized that I couldn’t stand another second of not touching you. So I took your face in my hands and I kissed you and suddenly we didn’t need words. We just needed each other. And that was enough.

Betty wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to the next page. “Flip to the last page and close your eyes,” the words read, causing Betty’s head to swim with so many thoughts and emotions she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Doing as the journal instructed, she skipped to the very last page and shut her eyes before she could read what was written. She could hear faint footsteps coming towards her and her palms began to sweat as she clutched the journal with both hands.

“Open your eyes and look at the journal.” Jughead’s voice made her heart skip a beat as she slowly did as she was told and lifted the book to read the title of the last journal entry.

The Day I asked You To Marry Me (Age 25)

…To Be Continued

Betty’s heart stopped as she dropped the journal onto the floor and looked down to see the boy she had loved for so many years, kneeling before her with a velvet ring box in his hand.

“Bets, there are a thousand eloquent speeches I could have written to express how much you mean to me, but I don’t think we need the fancy words or heartfelt soliloquies anymore,” Jughead began, his hand shaking ever so slightly as he held the box out in front of him for her to see. “I think that all I need to say to you is this. I’ve been in love with you since the very first entry in that journal. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but I think the fact that I felt the need to start it in the first place is proof enough. You’re my world, Betty Cooper, and I want to be able to fill a hundred more journals just like this one with every memory that we share together for the rest of time. Will you marry me?”

In that moment, every memory she had of Jughead flashed across her mind just like the pages in his journal. The boy who loved playing with her ponytail, the boy who needed a swing to swing on and a friend to watch birds with when he was feeling sad, the boy who could tell when she was sad and needed someone to go to the dance with, the boy who lit up her world like twinkle lights and decorative candles illuminating Pop’s. She had spent most of her life with this boy - this man - kneeling in front of her and she wanted to spend everyday that came next, right by his side.

Without a word, Betty took the journal from his hands and lunged for the pen on the counter, her hand shaking as she wrote furiously in the journal. Jughead’s throat closed up as he watched in anticipation, waiting for the girl he loved to answer the most important question he had ever asked in his entire life. Betty turned the journal so he could read it and he stood from his kneeling position to scoop her up into his arms, tossing the journal onto the floor so that it slid across the tile and revealed Betty’s words to the empty diner.

She said yes.