Jughead Jones (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burger_king) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2018-04-01 10:58 pm
burger_king) wrote in maskormenacelogs2018-04-01 10:58 pm
APRIL CATCH-ALL; Mostly the view is beautiful
WHO: Jughead Jones and YOU
WHERE: Mostly Maurtia Falls, but also other places
WHEN: Throughout April
WHAT: A lot of stuff, mostly mundane!
WARNINGS: Riverdale nonsense, teens being teens. See individual threads for individual warnings.
Prompts under the cut, hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
reveillez if you want me to write up a starter
01 - So in this room separated from the world
[ Annabeth hooking him up with a job at the library probably ranks as the third best thing to happen since he arrived. It's quiet, solitary work and between the shelving and cataloguing he has more time to work on his own projects than he knows what to do with. So what if he has to answer a question every now and then, or dig out some forgotten text book from storage if it means spending hours browsing the psychology section, digging out every book he can find on serial killers and then taking ample notes during whatever downtime he finds himself with. Research for a fun project, sure, but also a way to dull down the homesickness a touch — this is basically what he did back in Riverdale, only he didn't get a paycheck for it.
He can be found among the shelves, or at the check-out desk, engrossed in something gross. ]
02 - I'd sell you my own values for the sake of others
[ The last couple of years, Jughead probably spent more time in Pop's Chocklit Shoppe than anywhere else and although that particular diner is out of reach, everything else stays the same. He'll settle in at a booth after work with a cup of never-cooling coffee and his laptop, typing away until well into the night. This is when he does his best work, when everyone else has gone home to their normal lives with their normal problems. Maybe he doesn't have a school paper to write for or the half-written novel on Jason Blossom's murder, but there are other things. Other novels. Other stories. ]
03 - So hold this glass cos' it keeps cutting me
[ Some things never change but one thing has absolutely changed in the past couple of months - he never had powers back home. Practicing at the Meadows was a good idea in theory but an awkward plan in practice and so he's resorted to mostly empty parking lots around Maurtia Falls. He'll set out whenever he's got some spare time, lining up water bottles and taking notes on how many he can keep a certain color for how long, if he can switch it up, where his limits lie. Eventually he should move on to something bigger, perhaps, but for now bottles are fine. It's not like this power is good for much, anyway. Not saving the world any day soon.
Curious onlookers are welcome to join him or just ask what the heck he's up to out here on his own. ]
WHERE: Mostly Maurtia Falls, but also other places
WHEN: Throughout April
WHAT: A lot of stuff, mostly mundane!
WARNINGS: Riverdale nonsense, teens being teens. See individual threads for individual warnings.
Prompts under the cut, hit me up at
01 - So in this room separated from the world
[ Annabeth hooking him up with a job at the library probably ranks as the third best thing to happen since he arrived. It's quiet, solitary work and between the shelving and cataloguing he has more time to work on his own projects than he knows what to do with. So what if he has to answer a question every now and then, or dig out some forgotten text book from storage if it means spending hours browsing the psychology section, digging out every book he can find on serial killers and then taking ample notes during whatever downtime he finds himself with. Research for a fun project, sure, but also a way to dull down the homesickness a touch — this is basically what he did back in Riverdale, only he didn't get a paycheck for it.
He can be found among the shelves, or at the check-out desk, engrossed in something gross. ]
02 - I'd sell you my own values for the sake of others
[ The last couple of years, Jughead probably spent more time in Pop's Chocklit Shoppe than anywhere else and although that particular diner is out of reach, everything else stays the same. He'll settle in at a booth after work with a cup of never-cooling coffee and his laptop, typing away until well into the night. This is when he does his best work, when everyone else has gone home to their normal lives with their normal problems. Maybe he doesn't have a school paper to write for or the half-written novel on Jason Blossom's murder, but there are other things. Other novels. Other stories. ]
03 - So hold this glass cos' it keeps cutting me
[ Some things never change but one thing has absolutely changed in the past couple of months - he never had powers back home. Practicing at the Meadows was a good idea in theory but an awkward plan in practice and so he's resorted to mostly empty parking lots around Maurtia Falls. He'll set out whenever he's got some spare time, lining up water bottles and taking notes on how many he can keep a certain color for how long, if he can switch it up, where his limits lie. Eventually he should move on to something bigger, perhaps, but for now bottles are fine. It's not like this power is good for much, anyway. Not saving the world any day soon.
Curious onlookers are welcome to join him or just ask what the heck he's up to out here on his own. ]
no subject
You'll have to listen to the podcast to find out. [ He grins, teasing. ] He was a serial killer in 1918 and 1919, mostly killing victims that were Italian immigrants or Italian-Americans. He'd break into their houses and murder them in their sleep with their own axe. They never caught him, even though he sent a letter to the newspapers talking about the killings.
no subject
Was he just too lazy to get his own axe, or did he just have this thing for stealing people's axes and killing them with it? [She takes a sip of her Coke.] And what did Italians ever do to him, fuck up a perfectly good pizza?
no subject
Everyone had an axe around back then. Guess it was easier than bringing his own. [ He shrugs. ] Some think that it had something to do with the Italian mob, but since they never caught the guy we'll never know for sure.
no subject
[Hah, get it, overkill? She chuckles a little, and picks up her French fry again to pop it into her mouth.]
If you're already a hitman for the mob, you don't have to go freelance and bump off a couple of people with their own axes.
no subject
I guess not... and I suppose the question is whether he was a serial killer or just hired help. Who knows, maybe he was both and had a problem with not bringing work home.
You like true crime stuff?
no subject
[She takes a sip of her Coke. You love it so much you're part of it, Heather Chandler's ghost whispers in her ear, and Veronica looks down at her French fries and Coke. When she next looks up and smiles, there's a slightly brittle quality to her cheer.]
I used to be. [In more ways than one.] Not so much anymore—I'm more of a spy novel girl now.
no subject
I guess it can get to be too much for some people.
no subject
It can be. I have a very vivid imagination. [And a boatload of trauma.] I'm just curious, what drew you to doing true crime and mysteries?
no subject
I was always a weird kid. I guess reading about all the bad things that happen in the world made it easier to forget about the bad things happening in my own, at least for awhile.