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spacexseven · 1 year

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tunaaaaa I've been reading ur Childe Thing sooo much that I've been thinking of I Love Amy aus nonstop. its a problem. in honor of bsd s4 im gonna rapid fire a couple out for the Bsd Boys!

lets talk dazai. I feel like this could go a lot of ways with him. like, if its ada dazai, you probably don't really get the sense that something is kinda off with him until you're a bit too deep to back out. he seemed so sweet when you first met- fuckin weird, but sweet! no harm in trying to help him win over a crush, right? for pm dazai, you obviously know hes fucked in the head the second you meet him, so you agree to help him out of a fear of what he might do to you if you dont rather than a sense of altruism. either way, its kinda hard to notice him getting a little overly-attached to you just cuz of how naturally obnoxious and clingy he is. even if he starts to escalate you might not get it cuz hes pretty fast and loose about LITERALLY kidnapping you and tying you up in his apartment/mafia holding cell right off the bat (gets very pouty about you "ignoring" him). doesnt help that hes so out of touch with his own emotions he probably doesn't even know he has a thing for you for a whiiile. trust me tho, being nice to him and taking care of him when hes sick or injured WILL wear him down. you'll only kind of get it when you try to give him some new pointers on his crush and he seems to just get? annoyed? mutters something about you talking about someone else while you're SUPPOSED to pay attention to HIM. or when he keeps being weirdly affectionate with you in full view of X when hed usually forget you exist as soon as he sees them. or you woke up chained to a chair (again) but this time hes perched in your lap and scolding you about avoiding your "boyfriend" before shoving his lips against yours. couldve been any of these occasions really.

cant BELIEVE I didn't think of gogol the first time I talked about this this is almost EXACTLY what yes doing to sigma rn. when this fuckin 6'2 clown terrorist traps you against a wall and starts questioning about why you were talking to "his darling", you are 10000% sure you're gonna die. almost gives you whiplash how fast his tone changes once you convince him you have NO interest. all smiles all of the sudden, picks u up under the armpits like a cat to right ur posture and pats you on the head, declaring that you will be his magicians assistant for a while! you do not have a say in this, if you'd like to keep your skin. while you feel bad about aiding and abetting this stalking case, you get the sense that hes. not ever gonna actually make a move. kinda just Wants To Stalk. goes on about how he cant let himself be tied down like that (whatever that means). he does talk about just murdering his darling a lot but you've managed to convince him that thats unnecessary baggage connecting them to him so hopefully that keeps him sated until his goldfish-esque attention span finally moves him onto a new target. and it does! the problem is that its you. I think that once he realizes he likes you, he's just gonna vanish. poof gone. hes had a lot of fleeting obsessions with ill-fated darlings before, but youre something new. hes never actually gotten to know someone before! ugh. hes caged by his feelings for you, but the despair hed feel from killing you would be a cage all its own! frustrating!!!!! maybe if he just leaves and never thinks about you ever again this'll just go away like all of his other crushes. doesnt work. expect him back in a month, snuggling into your neck and babbling inane about having missed you. he tied you up again so youre just gonna have to let him do that. its fine youre used to this with him.

really wanted to do this with chuuya and fyodor too but im scared of them being OOC help me.

- 🩹

omg so this turned out to be Very Long :O quick context for any1 who is unfamiliar w i love amy—it's a webtoon (highly recommend btw) where the yandere character starts to fall for her 'target/rival' instead of her initial love interest. for more info + the childe version, check out this post.

cw: yandere characters (dazai, fyodor, nikolai), stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, obsessive behavior, threats of violence to reader. (this whole post came off a little silly instead of serious But mind the cws anyway!)

this is best read with a male reader (to keep it consistent w i love amy) but there's no pronouns used or descriptions for reader, so do as you like. also, reader makes morally questionable decisions :>

(pm) dazai is to be avoided at all costs. that was the rule you put down for yourself after witnessing one of his very public threats to some poor pedestrian who had bumped into him. the dramatic coat, the blank expression, the natural ease with which he handled the weapon in his hand—everything about him was just...alarming.

however, despite all your efforts, he's obstructed your path home with a deadly glare and a hand in his pocket.

according to dazai, he did not appreciate your recent conversation with X, (as he claimed, they were too popular to spare most people more than a few friendly greetings—so why were you having a full-fledged conversation with them?) who were you, even, to get in his way? you sputter out some excuse, some explanation as to why he misunderstood the situation and it was all just work-related, and fortunately, he seems convinced, at least enough to relax his hold on you and shift the blaring malice in his stance to something less frightening.

obviously, you couldn't refuse when he offers you what he calls a mutually beneficial proposition. you help him get closer to X, and he won't kill you! win-win, don't you think?

the thing about dazai, you soon learn, is that despite the murderous energy he gives off, he's painfully annoying, more so than frightening. it almost feels like you're dealing with an obnoxious child, with how he's constantly whining and tugging at your sleeve and complaining about how useless you're being.

and it also makes you wonder if he's ever really had a friend, because he's got some strange expectations for you. he's all too possessive, too paranoid, and expects you to be perfectly fine with it. you consider telling him that he's not supposed to hold you hostage every time he thinks you're spending "too much time with someone else", but after the 4th attempt, you've understood that there was no getting to him. at least he stopped with the threats to your other friends (well, he promised you that he'd stop), and that seemed like the only thing he was willing to compromise on. he doesn't ease up on the breaking-into-your-room-to-visit-you stunt, either, especially when you're "ignoring him". despite all that, maybe out of some form of pity, you still help him out. you drop off food when he's sick and try to explain that imprisonment is not the key to a healthy relationship. you hang out with him even if you're terrified of all the mafioso you come across when you visit the hq with him, and after all of it, you're mostly convinced that he wasn't going to kill you anytime soon. in fact, the two of you seemed to be building an unusual friendship.

but when he comes to visit you one day when you're sick and actually knocks on the door and texts you beforehand, you tell him that this would be the best way to approach X if he ever hears that they're sick. though you're expecting some excitement, or some self-satisfaction for improving a little, instead of looking excited, dazai looks frustrated. for the first time, he looks genuinely...upset. and when he asks you why you can't appreciate that he was looking out for you and not X, you're left at a loss for words. you're not sure if this was a sign that he was starting to learn not to cross your boundaries or a warning that he was beginning to like you a little too much

and things only get stranger. he becomes more observant, asks you more questions about yourself rather than X, and even starts holding your hand in full view of X. when you mention that X was really looking forward to a new movie coming out and that he should try to ask them out, he gets upset by your suggestion, grumbling about you paying more attention to X and only caring about them instead of asking him if he wants to see the movie with them. so, unsure of how to respond, you echo his question. he beams at you and happily declares that he only wants to watch the movie with you.

somewhere along the line, it happened that dazai himself started to realize just how much he liked you, and he spirals out of control. the already overwhelming physical contact turns more intimate, with dazai holding your hand at every possible moment, pressing himself as close to you as humanely possible without squeezing the air out of you, and sitting on your lap whenever the opportunity presents itself. he stops responding to anything that isn't an endearing pet name and introduces himself as your boyfriend. X seems to be eradicated from his mind, as well as anyone that wasn't you, though it feels as though you're the only one that has a problem with this change. dazai takes to it naturally, seamlessly inserting himself into your life.

"what's wrong?" dazai's sprawled across your lap with the biggest grin on his face, the remote in your hand long ripped away by him, "come give your boyfriend a kiss~"

you've...heard of fyodor. it was more overhearing whispers shared between people, but the mention of his name seemed to intrigue everyone who heard it. you've heard that he was a mysterious man who walked into the city one day and never left, and you've heard that he was the owner of an expensive casino. you've even heard that he had a tendency to stand on top of rooftops at night, but you've heard tons of variations and rumors. one statement, however, rang true in everyone's ears.

fyodor dostoevsky was taken with X.

that was putting it lightly—obsession was exactly what it was. though X was clearly unaware of what was being said, because, as they assured you one day while you walked out with them, fyodor was just a friend! and he was a very interesting guy, with some strong beliefs. he wasn't some criminal mastermind! all he did was keep to himself. and that, as they confidently declared, wasn't a crime.

but you had reason to not believe X, after all, it wasn't them at the receiving end of a laser focused gaze and a creepy smile. (it scared you so much that you ran home and ordered a burglar-proof lock for your door the same night) and it also wasn't them who sat down across from you while you were having your breakfast in the café nearby. anyone would have been better than who it was.

"hello," fyodor waves a fork at you, his fingers positioned gracefully on the silver cutlery (and of course, you think bitterly, he was evil and beautiful. just your luck), "i hope you can spare me a few minutes."

he wasn't asking, but you melted at his soft tone. for all people loved to talk about him, why hadn't they mentioned how hard it was to take your eyes off him? awkwardly, you take another bite of your food, nodding at him.

he asks you about X, though it's more of an interrogation disguised as casual conversation. he easily waves around his fork, smiles at you with an unnerving expression, and stares at you a little too long. by the end of it, your food is finished and his fork is placed neatly back onto the table and you've sustained no injuries. better yet, he finally seems to have (reluctantly) removed your name from his hit list.

what you weren't expecting was for him to start seeking you out. you get strange looks when fyodor waits outside your workplace with an umbrella—your umbrella—leaving you with no choice but to walk with him unless you wanted to get home soaked. he lists off X's habit and asks you to add on to his list, ignoring your reply of "that's just creepy". he tells you that he wants to respect X's privacy by not using cameras to spy on them so will you answer him or should he use the cameras? and what else could you do then?

at the very least, he didn't seem serious about attempting to kidnap or imprison X. he seemed fascinated by them, if anything. like he was...studying them. being with him wasn't as bad as you'd though, no matter how much you hated to admit it, despite the foundation of this friendship was built on how amusing he found X. if he was in a particularly good mood, he'd even offer to help you out with your struggles in the pursuit of love. his ideas, however, were all sure to land you behind bars with a retraining order to boot. when you voiced your opinion to him, he only smiled and told you that he knew a thing or two about breaking out of a prison cell, much like he was recalling upon a fond memory.

the only good thing about this strange arrangement was that fyodor was really nice to look at. there was something mesmerizing about his every action, even the slight quirk of his lips or the way his hair fell on his forehead. the ease with which he slipped on his hat (which, by the way, what was with all his not-weather-appropriate clothing? was he not sweating?), and the commanding air around him. so while he spoke seriously about X and his distaste for most of the human population, you tuned him out and focused on admiring his pretty eyes and how his lips wrapped around his fork and—ugh, you were starting to sound as creepy as him. but honestly, you had a feeling he already knew that you found him attractive. fyodor was far too good at reading people, far too perceptive to let something as obvious as your attraction to him slip.

your mistake was foolishly believing that you'd be safe as long as you didn't act on those feelings.

it felt strange, however, when he started reaching your usual table first, having already asked for your go-to meal and watching with thinly veiled delight as you stared down at the hot plate. and it's your coworkers now that get stared at, your friends who get the silent threat of a fork pressed against smooth skin, and you that everyone whispers that fyodor dostoevsky is taken with.

the meaning behind his increasingly strange behaviour doesn't really hit you, not until you've bumped into X again, who you haven't seen around in a while.

"i see that you and fyodor are becoming good friends now," they grin, "i'm almost jealous of how quickly you warmed up to him."

long fingers reach to caress your cheek before a perfectly poised hand places itself on your shoulder. fyodor's unmistakable voice replies in your stead.

"we're friends? is that what you've heard?" fyodor dips his head down to lock eyes with yours, "why don't you correct them about that, darling?"

you should have trusted sigma when he told you that nikolai gogol was bad news. as he clarified, so bad that, coincidentally, the ministry of justice hq was moved away at least by two states when nikolai came to visit.

but how were you to know that he was in love with one of your acquaintances? and how were you to know that his idea of love was this frightening? just when you were making your way back after a lukewarm conversation about work with X, you were slammed up against the wall by a person with a top hat and a coat and an honestly terrifying expression. then nikolai, as he later introduced himself, started grilling you with questions, ruthlessly asking about why you were with X and why did they smile at you and where does your family live, after which he happily told you about his many previous experiences with torture and how he would love to show you.

you're not sure what convinced him to let you go, whether it was your trembling legs or your teary promises that you had no interest in X in that way, but here you were now—alive, terrified, and offered the position of 'magician's assistant' (though the magician himself refused to tell you why the position was open for so long) and all it took to land the increasingly strange job was to talk to X and listen to nikolai threaten to torture you in graphic detail.

(among all the crazy people you had seen around here—that so-called 'world's best detective' who snatched your bag of candy right from your hands, that other person who started doing push-ups in the middle of the road, and someone giggling holding a bag of lemons by the port—you thought that nikolai definitely fit right in. not that you were going to tell him that)

while the position wasn't exactly what you wanted, nor were you too keen on spending more time around nikolai, something about the glint in his uncovered eye and the hand gripping your shoulder told you that you really wouldn't want to reject his offer. contrary to what you may have assumed, assisting nikolai only meant becoming a partner to his criminal activity, which revolved around stalking X, talking to them to find out all the information nikolai can't get by stalking them, and stalking them even more to find out any more details that neither of you could get. (you've considered helping out as much as you can, leaving hints in the form of obscure drawings of nikolai and danger symbols, but later, when you catch sight of X waving to him, you realize the message did not come across the way you intended it to)

fortunately for them, (and for you. at least now, you won't be behind bars for assisting in abduction) nikolai seems to have no interest whatsoever in pursuing them any further. sure, he keeps books filled with information about X, and buys their favorite drink alongside his order, but he doesn't seem to want to do anything more.

while you could care less about why he does whatever he's doing, already chalking it all up to the fact that he was off his rockers, nikolai decides to enlighten you all the same. when he excitedly rambles on and on about freedom and feelings and why X must now die, you pretend to listen, never actually telling him that nothing he said made any sense to you. still, after insisting that he won't be very free behind bars either and that if he really didn't want to be tied down by his feelings, he should actually distance himself from them instead, it appeared that you finally got him to understand, and he hesitantly agreed to listen.

for the most part, everything is great after that. your life returns to normal, with no top hat wearing, cane wielding magician in the vicinity, and no more having to invade someone's privacy. and it was great! really! even if it was a little bit boring without nikolai's spontaneous plans (maybe that time in the amusement park was pretty fun, even if the only reason you had to go was because X was going there with someone else, much to nikolai's horror). there was something both unsettling and addictive about the crazy adventures nikolai swept you on, though it was for the best that he disappeared.

but then nikolai came back…acting a little odd.

his clinginess and a sudden desire for physical affection set off alarms in your head, though he acted like this was perfectly normal. at first, you told yourself that this must be some new jealousy plot—maybe he got this idea from a tv show he watched over his 'break', but he hadn't asked you if you wanted to be part of this ploy (not that he ever did, really).

and your suspicions only grew when he refused to let up on the act, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. his trips with you became increasingly frightening, and his grip on you increasingly tighter. he takes his new position by your side, not at all focused on X anymore, and instead observes you with the same look that was fixated on X not too long ago.

it only hits you that you've become his new target when you find yourself tied up to a chair, with him seated right in front of you with his face up to yours. the exact scenario you convinced him not to put X through.

"your advice sucks, by the way," he pouts, "i tried staying away but i couldn't stop thinking of you! don't be too upset, alright? we can have even more fun now that we're together!"

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stargirlie25 · 4 months

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Talking about Elriel and this light/darkness nonsense

Btw if you see blue highlighted stuff, thats just information i wanted to say that does not really align with the text but is true!

canon:

What does the word abhorrent mean?

Well, inspiring disgust and loathing; repugnant

Meaning Elain finds even the Night courts Black disgusting. When she was in a horrible state she needed sunshine. Not even the beautiful NC black could ease her. Many can argue that it is because of her state she chases away darkness. That she was in a horrible place but could not embrace it or what not. Although in the spring court in ACOMAF feyre would throw up every night waking in a cold sweat due to nightmares. In the night court, none of that happened. She found solace in darkness. She always had. Although this same darkness does not do the same for Elain. It was a sunny day although Elain still wanted to chase away the darkness during DAYTIME. She finds solace in Sunshine. Darkness does not describe or align with Elain in any day.

Neither does she embrace the darkness. Her light dulls when she wears dark clothes (NC black) and she does indeed chase away darkness actually. With a certain males darkness. I know readers who look at the words and declare a conclusion will say this is a good thing. Although Night courts black is supposed to be beautiful and peaceful. Including this certain males darkness. We also know that feyre embraces ALL of Rhysands darkness/shadows/mist and Cassian embraces ALL of nestas darkness/flame/anger. Even if you extract the mates part, embracement and being 100% open with your partner is a key to a happy relationship REGARDLESS of a fantasy novel or the term mates.Not embracing and understanding your partner is a downfall to any realtionship. Tamlin lacked so much understanding of feyres needs and did not embrace who she FULLY was and there we go, the downfall of feylin! Ima leave that there Anyways a certain priestess smiles at his darkness and the darkness dances and sings and calmly rests on his shoulder to simply just watch.

Suffice to say, Elain chases away the darkness because the darkness simply takes away the light from her. She is a light. She helps nature grow and she´d always been the lightest in the family wanting to help her peers grow as well. I think Elain is as beautiful as a flower and that is why mcs refer to her as one. Although i think she truly embodies light. She has been referred to light, being the most full of light and needing light at a time of despair.

I saw someone say that when Azriel was a child and he was trapped and was tortured he needed sunshine and the answer to that was Elain. If im being honest, baby Azriel needed EVERYTHING after his trauma. Not just sunshine! Also we have to acknowledge this, Elain is a light. True. So she can heal on darkness? No. She herself is light and needs light to stay healthy. Light is not something Az could grant her.

People will say Azriel needs light. To me more like Azriel WANTS light. It is not what he needs. IMO from analyzing the bonus chapter, I believe he needs his darkness to be embraced. As in, Its a part of himself so its better to let it out. because he himself said that his shadows (his darkness) would always stay with him. It sounded like he had not come to terms with it. NO ONE is evil if his shadows vanish in their presence lets get that clear.

I just truly believe Azriel is not his entire self with anybody in the IC although he could be with Gwyn. Sure he can love the ic of course. He can laugh and buy them gifts but not even Rhysand or cassian bothers with him. Really sad imo. Although someone said that he is happy when his shadows are gone. Sometimes true and false. His shadows are a part of his job as a shadowsinger but they also resemble ´´people nature´´ eg,curiosity,sleeping,quietness,calmness etc. Again, they are a part of him and are connected to his feelings. Someone also mentioned that when his shadows vanish,he feels ´´normal´´ or ´´human´´. It does make sense for him to be insecure about his shadows considering no one else has them because he has showed feeling unworthy of touching things (Nyx and Elain) because of his hands. Basically because of his trauma. I know people will tell me Elain said his hands were beautiful. Yes i know and my heart melted when i read the scene. Don´t get excited though my heart melts for gwyn/emerie/nesta and feycien moments. So yeah Elain said his hands were beautiful although we see in his BC he seems to be against it. He is most insecure about it with Elain.He might have blushed but looks like he sure as hell did not believe it one bit. Although we see him the BC with Gwyn. Not once does he acknowledge his hands. He is rather trying to make her feel better. He worries if his words were polite enough something he would not bother to do naturally.Shadows are out and about. Is he stressed? Is he worried? Is he angry? No he isnt. He is chuckling,laughing,smiling and he is calm. Its important to note how his shadows were equally as calm. We know mates are equals right? So with Gwyn, Azriel and his shadows are equal. Not to mention Gwyn is the first one to smile at his shadows and that just happens to be a scene were he is calm. That to me is embracement and growth.

Whatever happens in the next ACOTAR book is in the future something only SJM herself can confirm. My one hope is that Elain never loses her light and embraces them instead of trying to fit in with the court (something cassian and rhysand said) as for Azriel, whoever he ends up with i don´t know but i hope he learns to embrace his shadows because that one BC scene was a wonderful change. It was beautiful to see ALL of Azriel calm and happy. I hope it continues.

In all honesty this is just another anti Elriel post JAJAJAJAJAJ

#pro gwynriel #anti elriel #gwynriel #elucien #pro elain #pro elucien #pro gwyn #acotar #anti e/riel #pro lucien #acowar #acosf

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aihoshiino · 5 months

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hi!! this is a 'lil out of the blue but i've been thinking about chapter 132, and if you're ok with me asking, what's your opinion of ruby and nino's versions of what Ai would say? When I first read Ruby's interpretation, it didn't strike me as unlike Ai per-se, but I've gotta admit, Nino's answer rang true to me in a way Ruby's didn't. But for the life of me, I can't seem to narrow down why (´･ω･`)?

It bothers me, because while the words themselves sound plausible, Nino's interpretation of the feelings behind them is all wrong. I don't remember her exact words, but it was something like, 'she was so far above us that she wouldn't even remember what i said. my words couldn't bother her.' To Nino, its just more evidence that Ai was a perfect idol. but we know that's not true at all? in the first place, Ai had genuine trouble with her memory, even when it came to her most important people, so her forgetting something isn't the same as her like.. asserting dominance or w/e. And I'm certain, especially after chapter 133, that every time Nino said something cruel to Ai it hurt her deeply. If it looked like Ai simply brushed it off, it's because she was putting in a ton of effort to keep her head up. Knowing all that, it makes it so hard to agree with Nino. I do and I don't at the same time?

I feel nervous speculating about it because it's disrespectful to put words in Ai's mouth, but what do you think she would've done in that situation? Me personally, I think it might land somewhere between what Ruby said and what Nino said. Because Ai was constantly trying to connect and love the people around her, I can believe she'd extend kindness towards Nino like Ruby did, but at the same time she was hurting so badly that saying "it's all good" wouldn't communicate her true feelings. Being okay takes time, you can't just flip a switch on it. If anything, I think it'd thrust her into a kind of despair, where she can't communicate the true complexity of her feelings for fear of pushing Nino away, but not giving voice to them makes her feel so acutely like a liar, and the last thing she wants is to respond to Nino's genuine regret with a lie. She's so trapped in it (┬┬﹏┬┬).

sorry this is so long btw!! these characters are so easy to ramble about there's so much to them ^^;

Sorry for the wait on a response to this one! It was such an interesting question I ended up rolling it around in my head all week before I felt fully confident that I could get across how I wanted to respond to it.

What I think it ultimately comes down to for me is that Nino is not wrong in how she says Ai would respond - in fact, I think she's correct in saying that Ai would have responded in the way Nino would've wanted to hear and that she would've chosen the sort of, path of least resistance of pretending she didn't even remember she'd been hurt. This feels the most consistent to me with the invincible, flighty persona Ai puts up when she's not quite feeling 100% and it also lines up with how she describes herself in the Spica novel.

Serious talks weren't her cup of tea, and she detested the weighty atmosphere they brought. [...] So, with the same nonchalance, she declared her departure. Things always went smoother without unnecessary drama.

(source is my in-progress TL of the free preview chapter i promise i'll finish it soon [<- in tears])

Where Nino stalls is in her understanding of Ai's motivations. In her mind, the cruelty she subjected Ai to wasn't even worth remembering— Ai was invincible, untouchable and inhuman so even if her words had stung in the moment, there was no way that she'd even remember being targeted by Nino. It should go without saying that this is not reflective of the real Ai in the least.

This is why Ruby, though I don't think she quite sticks the landing, is the one of the two who actually making calls about Ai in line with who she was as a person. While she doesn't properly understand the depths to which Ai was fighting every day to just be okay with things at that moment in time, she intuits something just as important quite naturally and without even seeming to realize she's doing it— Ai's kindness, her desire to help and reach out to people and her instinctive gestures of warmth and outreach when she sees someone who's in pain. Ruby acts on this kindness with barely a moment's thought and ends up embodying the real Ai's heart so vividly.

This is why Nino reacts with such immediate derision. The real Ai's human heart is something that repulses her— she rejects it any time she catches so much of a glimpse of it. It's natural then that she'd dismiss Ruby's earnest, clumsy and honest portrayal; imperfect, but truthful in the ways that really matter.

In short, I think Nino was right, but for the wrong reasons and in turn, Ruby was wrong, but for the right reasons.

I think Ai genuinely would've forgiven Nino in her own way— to her, her expression of "Oh, did you say that?" and pretending to have forgotten it would have been her way of telling Nino it was all water under the bridge and that she has no hard feelings. We know she wanted so, so badly to be friends with the other girls in B-Komachi and I think having Nino reach out to her would have made her so incredibly happy, happy enough that she would've been tripping over herself to forgive Nino of everything if it meant not losing a chance at forming that connection.

Of course, to Nino, it just would've been more proof of how she viewed Ai and more fuel for her belief of Ai as this untouchable, inhuman idol. The sad reality is that I don't think there was ever a chance for Nino and Ai to connect once things went south. That well had been too thoroughly poisoned.

and that's why they should kiss. thank you for your time.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #ruby hoshino #ai hoshino #onk spoilers #b-komachi #onk nino #WHERE IS THE TOXIC YURI AI/NINO CONTENT PLEEEEEEEASE ONK FANDOM #<- on her hands and knees

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disasterbijamietartt · 1 year

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I completely get where you Roy/Jamie shippers are coming from, and I really super hope that they go that way for you. But for me, their relationship has always seemed very big brother- little brother (ie: i fuckin hate you but I will kill for you). The energy from Jamie this ep was just full on baby brother so super excited to show his big brother all the cool stuff he knows about Amsterdam and I loved it so much. But, like I said, I can also see the ship potential for sure, so fingers crossed!

Thanks nonnie, and I get where you’re coming from. It can really go both ways for me and on a personal level I’d be happy with either, like …

There are two hearts beating in my chest.

The one, that really, really wants Jamie x Keeley to get a second chance, because I adored them after their first interaction and was heartbroken when it dawned on me they’d go for Roy x Keeley.

And the one, that has a deep need for Roy x Jamie, in part because I can count on one hand the queer ships I liked that actually became (semi-)canon (and I’m not counting the sad excuse that was Destiel … but even if I’d count that I’d only need one hand …), but mostly because of the impact it could have, if the show actually straightbaited the conservative part of its audience into caring and rooting for queer people.

I heard a story on a podcast once, about a Mormon, who stopped being homophobic after he saw Brokeback Mountain and realised, that gay men loved each other, that it wasn’t all about sex. That they had feelings for each other. And it feels kinda ridiculous to write this down, since that should be obvious, but … apparently for some people it isn’t and if just a handful would change their mind when their favs turn out to be queer and when it is shown how homophobia and bigotry hurt them, it is a win.

So, yeah, currently for the greater good (lol) I’m crossing my fingers for Roy x Jamie (x Keeley, depending what happens with Jack). Jamie will probably get hurt in the process, since Roy is still dumb and insecure, which then will hurt me. (And while a part of me dreads the almost inevitable third act break-up, if they'd go with a classic romance structure, the other part wants freshly dumped Jamie and Keeley shit-talking Roy and then going “But the thing he does with his hips. sigh”) But there needs to be obstacles and doubt and despair before you get the grand romantic declaration and the happily ever after.

(Both of my hearts btw are united by the wish for anything but Roy x Keeley endgame)

#my answers #roy x jamie #jamie x roy #royjamie #jamie tartt #roy kent

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shera-dnd · 2 years

Text

Red on White

Here it is! It's my Maiden May Marigold fic, featuring a good healthy dose of hellbore.

And also angst. My god so much angst

CW for blood and major character death btw

Other than that please enjoy this story about May and Winter getting to finally be together forever

Blood spilled out from between her fingers as she pressed against the wound. It dripped down, warm and fresh, staining the white of her uniform.

She blinks and she’s being carried. Stormy skies rush over her, but the sounds of thunder and fury are still distant.

She blinks again and she’s laying on the sands. It’s warm, like blood, and will soon be just as red.

There is blue and gold above her. Cries she cannot quite hear. Something warm hits her face. Has it started raining yet?

~~~

Winter Schnee could not stand that Marigold brat.

Bree had accused her of being jealous he could keep up with her grades, but it was more than that. That dolt did nothing but laze around and make bad jokes, and he still had the gall to act all smug over his grades. It was insulting, and as their team leader, it was Winter’s duty to discipline him.

“Marigold!” She called as she entered their dorm room, “a word.”

"Schmooze," Marigold said without looking up from his scroll.

“What?”

“You asked for a word, so I gave you one,” he answered with a shrug.

Winter inhaled long and deep, counted to ten, and then exhaled. She was not gonna let Marigold get to her today.

“I meant I wish to talk to you,” she strained.

With that he finally put down his scroll and got up from his bunk, “well why didn’t you say so? What do you need?”

“We need to talk about your attitude, Marigold!” She declared, mustering every ounce of authority she had.

Marigold just smirked, “I don’t see what the problem here is, ice queen.”

“The problem is you making a mockery of our team at every opportunity!” She pushed back, verbally, and literally.

“And how exactly did I do that?” He asked, “by being tied with you for best grades? By being top of our dueling class? By having perfect attendance?” Now it was his turn to push her back, “or is it by making you jealous that I can do all those things without a stick up my ass?”

“I don’t have a stick up my ass!” She argued, only catching how silly that sounded after the words had already left her mouth, “and just because your academic record is passable doesn’t mean your behavior is excused!”

“Passable!?” He yelled, “I’m better than you. Maybe if you weren’t so busy worrying about my attitude, you’d watch your footwork better.”

He did not just say that.

Winter stepped forward, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “Now listen here, Marigold…”

And then she stopped. In this moment of complete lack of control it was as if something clicked in her brain, a reasoning perhaps for why the Marigold heir had been so present in her mind as of late. Because this close, she couldn’t help but find that infuriating grin quite pretty.

“I’m listening,” he teased, and, Brothers, did she want to shut him up.

So she did.

And he shut her up right back.

She didn’t know how long they kept silencing each other, but eventually the door opened and they heard Bree’s voice saying, “Marrow owes me twenty lien.”

~~~

The voice kept calling. She couldn’t make out the words, but she could still hear it. It was a beautiful voice. A voice she loved.

Maybe if she closed her eyes, that voice could carry her away. Let her drift to sleep.

Then there was fire.

It roared and hissed. There were words lost in its rage, things she couldn’t understand, but that dripped with both hate and despair.

Blue covered her vision, hiding away the fire and anger.

It was warm. Not like the sand, or the blood, or the fire. It was a different warmth. Kind, comforting.

She missed this warmth.

~~~

“Yeah…yeah…thanks,” Winter heard as she entered her team��s dorm room, both hands behind her back. Marigold was standing by his bed, scroll in hand, “I’ll let her know. Okay, talk to you later, mom.”

With that last word out, he dropped the call, fell face first on his pillow, and groaned loudly. It would be amusing, if Winter didn’t know exactly how that felt.

“What did she want this time?” She asked, sitting next to him, and running her fingers through his hair. It had grown so long recently.

He rolled over so as to not speak into his pillow, “she wanted to congratulate me on being so forward thinking, and securing future relationships with the Schnee family.”

Now it was Winter’s turn to groan. At least they managed to keep it a secret this long.

“I almost want to break up with you right now,” Marigold added.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she answered, “thankfully father doesn’t pay enough attention to my life to comment on this.”

“Ugh, I’m jealous,” he laughed, sitting up. That’s when he noticed that Winter still had one hand behind her back, even now. “What are you hiding, Ice Queen?”

Winter rolled her eyes. A whole year and he couldn’t stop using that stupid nickname, huh?

“If you don’t recall, today is our one year anniversary,” she answered, tone level and controlled, “I believe it is appropriate to celebrate such occasions.”

“I thought our anniversary was last week,” he answered, confused.

“No, that was the anniversary of my… lapse of judgment,” she corrected, a light blush coloring her cheeks at the memory, “today is the anniversary of the proper start to our relationship.”

“I see,” he replied with a smirk.

“Do you want the gift or not!?” She yelled, shoving a small box towards him.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, taking the box. He opened it and the chuckle turned into uproarious laughter.

It was a knife.

“What!?” Winter demanded, a look of pure offense on her face.

“Nothing, it’s just,” he snorted, barely containing his laughter, “oh! I know what I should get for my manly man of a boyfriend; a proper hunting knife, for when he goes into the wilds to do manly things.”

“It’s a practical gift!” She argued, voice cracking a little, “we’re still huntsmen. It would be nice to have proper quality tools with us.”

“Sure,” he answered with one last giggle.

“At least I got you something!” She grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Well…” he trailed off, crawling over to her side of the bed, “I can think of one thing I can give you.”

She certainly wouldn’t mind that, though she couldn’t let this go to his head. So she placed a finger on his lips and said, “you remember the rules, Marigold.”

He sighed, “you stay on top, and I don’t get to talk. I know.”

Now she was the one smirking, her voice nearly a purr as she said, “good girl.”

His eyes went wide with surprise in a second, the next his semblance activated, and he disappeared into thin air.

“Boy!” She corrected, “I meant boy!”

There was a pause, just long enough to make Winter uncomfortable with her mistake, but he did eventually reappear before her.

“Yeah,” he muttered, a deep blush on his face, “yeah, of course you did.”

“Uh, how about we just cuddle instead?” She offered, shyly.

“Yeah. Sounds great.”

~~~

Blue retreated and she could see the dark skies again. The fire was gone, but the thunder was growing closer. It was louder even through the fog that covered her mind.

And there was the voice again. Desperate, yearning. Something about it made her want to reach out, to pierce the fog, to hear that voice again as clear as day.

“-with me! Stay with me, please!” The words finally took shape. Such sad words for such a beautiful voice. She had to fix this somehow.

Her free hand reached up to cup her face. Blue eyes looked into gold, and she called her name.

“May.”

~~~

Winter just about had it with Marigold’s crap. Sure, when he canceled a date on her the first time she thought he just wasn’t feeling well. When he did it again she also paid it no mind, they had been together for almost two years now, so they didn’t really need to be together all the time. But after over a month of this crap there was only one conclusion she could possibly reach.

Her boyfriend was avoiding her.

“Everyone out!” She shouted as she shoved the dorm room door open.

Bree and Amin opened their mouths to complain, but Winter just repeated louder, “out!”

With that order made clear, all three of them put away their stuff and got up to leave. But she still wanted one of them to stay.

“Not you, Marigold,” she added, shoving a finger to his chest to hold him in place, “we have things to discuss.”

Amin visibly cringed at the sight, and patted him on the back, muttering, “I’m so sorry, dude,” before leaving.

Now properly alone Marigold sighed, “did you really have to make a whole scene?”

“Oh, should I have waited to talk next time we were alone?” She asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice like acid, “maybe during our next date?”

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “is that really what this is about?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, Marigold!” She accused, shoving her finger at his chest again, “don’t you dare pretend otherwise!”

He slapped that finger away. “Yeah, what if I am!?”

“What!? I’m your girlfriend!” She shouted, “if you’re gonna give me the cold shoulder, I at least deserve to know why!”

“Oh?” He exclaimed, his tone shifting from anger to mockery, “and do you even want to be my girlfriend?”

“What are you on about?” She scoffed, “Of course I do.”

“Really?” He laughed, “because if you did you wouldn’t turn everything into a shouting match.”

“That’s the only way to get through to you.”

“Or look at Harriet like you want her more than me.” He continued.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you wouldn’t refuse to say my name!”

Those words echoed in the silence that followed.

This time Winter looked truly apologetic, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“What?”

“You always flinched, or made a face when I called you by your name,” she explained, “I…I thought you hated it.”

“I…,” he paused, his brow furrowed, “I guess I do, don’t I?”

He sat back down on his bed and muttered a curse under his breath.

She opened her mouth, the first syllable of his name barely leaving her lips before he flinched again. She paused and corrected herself, “Marigold, what’s this about?”

“I don’t know, Winter,” he answered, falling back onto the bed, “I don’t know anything. I’ve been a mess for months, and I can’t even tell you about it.”

“Of course you can,” she assured him.

“No, I can’t,” he insisted, “you wouldn’t understand. Brothers, not even I understand. It’s like there’s something deeply wrong with me that I can’t figure out,” he hid his face behind his hand and groaned, “I just wanna be happy with you, Winter, but I can’t.”

Winter felt a cold in her gut at those words, like she swallowed ice dust, “what… Do you mean?”

“I mean I think we should break up.”

~~~

“Winter!” May cried, squeezing her hand, “oh, thank the gods.”

“May,” she called again, her mind still hazy.

“Just hang in there, okay?” May pleaded, “we’ll get you out of here.”

Right, they had to go back. The mission was a failure. The mission.

“Cinder,” she croaked, “where is she?”

“Not too far,” May answered, “she’s been looking for us all over the place, but I’m keeping us hidden,” she gestures with a glowing hand to the dome of her semblance around them, “I don’t know why she hasn’t turned this desert to glass already.”

She knew.

It was why she was granted this power. Why Cinder couldn’t be allowed to find them.

“She…She needs me alive.”

~~~

Some shitty half frozen bar in Mantle was the last place anyone would ever think to find Winter Schnee, and yet here she was. At Ebi’s request she had accompanied her seniors to celebrate her official recruitment into the Specialist Program. It was only polite. Though why the celebration had to take place here of all places was beyond her.

“Why are you sulking, little Schnee?” Ederne asked, nudging her.

“I’m not sulking,” Winter sulked, taking a sip from her beer.

She wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“Come on, this is a celebration,” her senior insisted, “this is a big step in your life! You should mark the occasion with something special.”

Winter decided to archive that suggestion in the same mental box she kept all of her father’s suggestions, and simply muttered, “I need to use the restroom.”

She was in no rush to return to her table, instead choosing to meander a little, pretending to not find the bathroom for a moment, if only to buy herself some freedom. And as she walked past the counter she found her eyes drawn to something she hadn’t seen in a long time.

A long blue ponytail. It was almost at hip length by now, much longer than before, but still unmistakably the same ponytail. Her eyes tracked up, all the way to the mirror behind the counter, and she met golden eyes in the reflection.

“Marigold?”

Those golden eyes went wide and Marigold turned to face her, nearly dropping her drink.

Winter wasn’t sure how to deal with what she saw. Marigold had changed, a lot actually. From the new outfit, to the softer features, to the unexpected curves. There was no way this could be her old partner, but at the same time there was no one else this could be. And in that moment Winter found herself unable to do anything but stare.

“Hey, Winter,” Marigold greeted, with a voice that snapped her eyes up in attention, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“I-I could ask you the same question,” she shot back, trying to appear unaffected by this turn of events.

“Really? Is that honestly the first question you have in mind?” Marigold asked, raising an eyebrow. At that Winter could only stammer, and when no coherent sentence formed, she decided to take Winter’s hand, give it a shake and shoot her a wink, “the name is May now, by the way.”

May Marigold. That was a pretty name. Much prettier than the last one. She deserved a pretty name.

Wait, where was she?

Right, she should reply to her.

“It suits you,” she commented awkwardly.

“Aww, thanks,” May laughed, leaning back against the counter, “so you haven’t answered me, what got the Winter Schnee to come down to this dump?”

Winter looked back on reflex, her eyes finding the table where the rest of the specialists waited for her. Though Ederne and Bree had moved on from waiting for her to yelling, “get it, Schnee!” from across the room. A fact May was also fully aware of.

“It doesn’t matter,” she answered, choosing to ignore her coworkers, and change the subject, “you’ve changed a lot since the academy.”

May laughed, and Winter decided she could listen to that sound all day, “I guess I figured what kept bothering me all that time.”

A little flame of hope sparked in Winter’s heart, blazing through the alcohol in her blood, “you seem a lot happier.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, standing up - oh, wow… When had she gotten taller than Winter - “though it looks like I’m not the only one who is happy with the change.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Winter blurted out, clearing her throat, earning her a smirk from May. “What got you so happy?” She asked.

May ran a finger under Winter’s chin. “I finally got you to look at me like you want me.”

~~~

“What!?” May yelled.

“If I die, someone else will take the powers,” she answered, one last sliver of blue fire burning in her eye, “but if she finds me…”

Her chest stung and she flinched. The puncture wounds from Cinder’s claw still bled. She had drained the last of her aura through them, and now there was nothing to keep her from bleeding out.

“...she’ll be even worse to fight,” May finished. There was disbelief in her face for only a moment, before it turned to determination. The last shred she still had of it. "That is it! We’re getting you out of here now. We’re getting you away from this bitch, and to a hospital!”

Without a moment of hesitation, she pulled Winter back up into a bridal carry, and began marching through the sands.

“May,” she called, but she did not answer, instead just focusing on the path ahead.

“May!” She called again, louder this time, “how much aura do you still have?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she answered, still refusing to look down, “we’ll get you to safety. I promise.”

A raindrop hit her skin, cold in the warm desert air. Then another and another. The storm had reached them, quickly soaking them, and washing the red from her uniform.

“It’s not enough, is it?” She asked.

“I said it doesn’t matter!” May cried out, finally looking down at her. Even as the rain hid her tears it was still clear that she was crying, “I’m not letting you go again.”

“May,” she whispered, “you know what we have to do.”

“I can’t!” May screamed, “I’m not losing you!”

“It’s okay,” Winter soothed, “I’ll still be with you, always.”

~~~

Winter pushed her way into the Happy Huntresses’ tent, scanning the space to find all three of the remaining members freezing to look back at her.

“I would like to speak with May,” she asked, when no one moved she added, “alone.”

Greenleaf and Thyme both turned to face May, who gave them a nod. Without a word the two of them left. Though Greenleaf made a point to shoulder check Winter on the way out.

She couldn’t really blame her.

“Alright, what do you want, Ice Queen?” May asked, not bothering to get up from her bed.

Winter walked up to her, cleared her throat, and declared, “I would like to apologize.”

“For what exactly?” May scoffed, “because that’s a very long list.”

“For everything,” she spoke solemnly, “for doubting you, for leaving you, for choosing duty over you.”

“You didn’t just choose duty over me, you chose it over everybody,” May shot back, “every day, for months, I’d look up and see your face up on a skyscraper, making up excuses for why all of Mantle had to suffer.”

“I know,” Winter answered, her voice trembling, but she reigned in her emotions, “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was serving the greater good. But everything that happened to Mantle happened because I allowed it, because I was blind to the horrors I was causing… because I didn’t believe you.”

Her hands began to shake.

She tried her best to keep it under control, but she had so little control left.

“If I had listened to you, if I had come with you and joined the Huntresses,” her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes, “then none of this would have happened. Atlas would still be standing, no one would have died. Not Robyn, not Penny, not We… not Weiss.”

She couldn’t reign them in, couldn’t hold on to them. All those feelings duty had once so easily masked, now had nothing to keep them in check.

She screwed her eyes shut, one last ditch attempt to hold back her tears.

Then she felt a hand, gentle and warm, cup her face and wipe away those tears.

“I’m not gonna say you have no blame here, but you know Ironwood would have done all of this even without you,” May assured her, “and yeah, it would have been nice if you came earlier. But you’re here now, and you can still fix things. You can still come with me.”

Winter couldn’t believe what she heard.

How could May forgive her? How could she still want her there? She opened her eyes and saw just how close they were, and another feeling in her heart begged to be heard.

She stepped forward, May leaned in, and there was no more distance between them.

~~~

“Handy semblance,” Cinder mocked as she hovered over the desert sands, “a shame it doesn’t work in the rain.”

Before her stood the dome of May’s semblance, raindrops disappearing into it and making a perfect sphere untouched by rain.

The dome shrunk on itself until it disappeared entirely. There stood May Marigold, blood on her clothes, a knife - her knife - still firmly in her hand.

No.

No! This couldn’t happen again!

She would not lose that power again!

Her semblance flared and two swords formed in her hands.

May dropped the knife onto the sand, and cold winds began to swirl around her.

“Listen here,” she called, golden fire raging in her eyes, “there’s a new maiden in town,” ice grew from her hands shaping itself into a pair of dueling blades, one long, one short, “and she’s gonna make you pay for everything you’ve done!”

#rwby #fanfic #hellbore #may marigold x winter schnee #may marigold #winter schnee #maiden may marigold #major character death #blood

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liyuesbian · 3 years

Text

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

#ningguang #ningguang au #ningguang angst #ningguang x reader #ningguang headcanons #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin headcanons #genshin au #pygmalion au #ningguang imagines #genshin imagines

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katsidhe · 3 years

Note

could you do 9.10 and 9.13 for episode reviews.

Love your takes btw.

9.10 Final Thoughts

well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend season 9. God I love season 9. buckle in.

Plenty of what season 9 tries to do with angel drama falls flat, but plenty of it doesn’t. It’s at its strongest when interrogating the ways that the angels are looking for personal purpose, rather than folding themselves into various suit-clad factions. In this episode, we have Gadreel, Abner, and Thaddeus, all with very different takes.

Thaddeus is the most boring of the three—a straightforward narcissist and sadist. (Lucifer will follow in his rockstar-impersonating footsteps in s12. SPN clearly has a dim view of the music industry.) We don’t care when he dies, and we aren’t meant to.

Abner’s found a family, and he’s let go of revenge. He’s clearly found peace and happiness—but it’s stolen. I’m ambivalent about this. I guess I could take his word that his vessel was abusive and therefore deserves to have been permanently body-snatched, and I guess I could believe him when he says his new family loves him, even though they clearly don’t know what he is or what he’s done. His regard for humanity as something other than a project is… uncertain. Even if everything is as sunny as he explains to Gadreel, there is fundamental selfishness and short-sightedness here. Get what you want, Abner says, and never let go.

Gadreel asks Abner if his vessel is happy. This reveals both Abner’s scorn for his vessel, and Gadreel’s uncomfortable awareness of and respect for Sam (and his bartender vessel, who Gadreel stares at, and who accepts Gadreel back easily).

Gadreel! OF COURSE Gadreel’s gotta be the scapegoat for Lucifer’s release, HAHAHAH. I love him to pieces, oml. Seriously, the Sam parallels could not BE more blatant. I’ve talked about this before, that it makes the earned antipathy between them all the more alarming, all the more visceral. The big sticking point is that Gadreel’s years of pointless torture came prior to his “redemption” arc, rather than as a consequence of it. Gadreel has all of s5 Sam’s despair and helpless anger and self-loathing, all of his drive to set things right at any price, and all of it is amplified by his trauma.

Sam and Gadreel’s relationship is defined by its liminal spaces. Gadreel threatens to tear Sam apart, but he does not, even when he is tortured. He locks Sam away in a dream rather than force him to watch him kill, or to suffer. But when Sam forces Gadreel out, Gadreel leaps instantly on telling Sam he is weak, reciting back Sam’s fears and Gadreel’s own. This reads like Gadreel is aiming quite a lot of his own self-pity and self-hatred at Sam.

Cas’s murderous rage at Gadreel when his identity is revealed is fun. It shows that Heaven’s PR team did a good job, for one thing. But Cas is furious because it’s specifically Lucifer. And the Apocalypse, and all the attendant suffering, his and Dean’s and Sam’s. It’s a personal wrath.

“Stupid for the right reasons…” oh, Cas, your scarcity of positive human role models is showing. Also, Cas’s particular brand of reassurance here isn’t actually something Dean has a problem with. He expresses regret over having been tricked—he says he’s stupid, he says he got played—but he’s never in doubt that his intentions were good. He’s never in doubt that he did the righteous thing. He’s never in doubt that he’d do it again.

Dean apologizes to Cas for barring him from the bunker. (Sam will not receive an apology.) Cas compares what Dean did to Sam to what Cas did by trusting Naomi. There’s a key difference here. Cas’s moral compass is not the problem; it’s his critical thinking skills.

Crowley, Cas, and Dean are a hilarious trio. (Also, I really hope that Cas’s pimpmobile got to Heaven too, like the Impala.)

Crowley being genuinely sorry that Kevin’s gone and his willingness to risk his life to help Sam are the best two moments of the generally weak Crowley-has-human-blood plot line. They feel earned. [also Crowley’s ‘I told Kevin he should’ve run!’ is both accurate, funny, and sad.]

Let’s talk 4.21 parallels! I mean, first, the glaringly obvious: Sam locked down to be purged of something supernatural; Sam suffering; Dean unable to bear Sam’s tortured screams; a very atmospheric fan. Dean walking away.

and then, of course, there’s “at least he dies human.” Right off the bat, Dean tells Cas he’s going to kill Gadreel. Cas, concerned, says that this will kill Sam too; Dean, sounding tortured, says he knows. Now, obviously, Dean doesn’t kill Sam. He doesn’t even get particularly close. But it’s really interesting that this is the first thing Dean brings up! He declares unprompted that he’s ready to kill Sam rather than leave him possessed. Which is both a recapitulation of the save-him-or-kill-him mantra, and an ironic twist on the decision Dean made in 9.01. Then, Dean knew Sam would rather die than be possessed, but had him possessed anyway. Now, Dean has decided instead that Sam must die because he is possessed. Obviously Dean’s opinion on the possessing entity has changed in the meantime: Sam’s hasn’t, but Sam’s isn’t what matters.

Dean reaches new levels of PEAK IRONY when he declares that Cas should possess Sam too. Cas has to actually point out that Dean can’t, in fact, volunteer Sam’s permission. Because apparently Dean had forgotten, lmaooo. Crowley, on the other hand, is happy to oblige. Dean directs Cas to burn Sam’s tattoo off.

The language of this entire scene is so sexual. I mean, it’s Crowley, of course it is, double entendre is his first language. But this theme recurs again and again. Here it is just more pointed than usual. It is queasy.

Gadreel has Sam trapped in a Dean-type happy place—a hunt with ghouls and cheerleaders, no organic produce to be found. And I don’t think it’s because Gadreel doesn’t understand what Sam likes. I think it’s because Gadreel’s aim was for Sam to feel comfortable, not blissful. It smacks of Hallucifer, just a bit—using the verisimilitude of Dean’s louder moods rather than trying to appeal directly to Sam’s contentment, because of his always questionable, always a question, sense of reality. If things were too smooth, too cheerful, Sam might just be suspicious. Sam is easier to trick by proxy.

The HORROR of this episode for Sam: Gadreel washing someone’s blood off of Sam’s hands. Crowley pushing needles into his brain. Sam’s body and life as a bargaining chip as Gadreel threatens to kill him, and then as Dean threatens to kill him right back. The quiet heartbreak as Sam remembers Kevin’s death, as he realizes the magnitude of Dean’s betrayal. But the worst part of it, I think, is somehow still Sam’s face when Crowley comes to get him in the dream where Gadreel stashed him. How his expression just crumples as Crowley tells him he is trapped in a lie, that his mindscape is once again a prison, that he truly cannot trust his reality. The sheer devastation of this on top of Sam’s history, plus the knowledge that Dean did this—and he pulls himself together and puts his foot on Gadreel’s neck and casts him OUT anyway. Sam Fucking Winchester.

and then the Bridge Scene. The lighting, the staging… it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s one of those scenes where I knew as I was watching it for the first time, seven years ago, that it was going to be something. I held my breath and still hold my breath. I can’t take my eyes off the way that Sam is shaking slightly, the entire time. The way he can barely meet Dean’s eyes but he does it anyway. He SAYS HIS PIECE, says it clearly, says it with an even tone despite what he’s gone through, despite the holes in his head that were healed seconds ago.

I love the gentleness between Sam and Cas here. I love knowing that 9.11 follows this. I love that there is no question that Cas will leave with Dean—he is staying with Sam, to heal and support him, even after he spent this episode mostly reassuring Dean.

Dean does not start this conversation to apologize. He starts out with the intent to DELIBERATELY egg Sam on: “come on, let’s hear it.” It’s an incitement, because Dean wants Sam to act angry, so that Dean can feel more justified in leaving. Sam does not rise to the bait.

Dean has an excuse for every point Sam has: I had no choice, you were dying, it’s not in me, he saved your life. He says, “I did a bad thing with bad consequences and I would 100% do it again, anyway, bye.”

And then the most infuriating thing: Dean is in the wrong, so he tells the person he’s wronged, ugh, I’m just such an awful poisonous person, I’m going to burn for this. It’s so clearly wrong-headed. Intentional or not, it’s such an obvious invitation for Sam to comfort him that it might well have been embossed. If this were in e.g. season 15, or if the crime he’d committed had been less awful, I can easily hear Sam’s reassurance: no, Dean, I promise you’re a good person, we all make mistakes. It is the most toxic way possible to frame a potential apology.

The textual theme of Dean-as-poison (and, for that matter, the consequence of Kevin’s death vs. the initial crime of the possession) is an intentional muddying of the waters: Crowley, Cas, and Dean himself all bring it up in some fashion, linking some fundamental aspect of Dean himself rather than Dean’s choices to Kevin’s death. Crowley is trying to be cutting; Cas is trying to be supportive; Dean is both excusing himself and camouflaging that fact in his exhausting self-loathing. There is a complicated interplay of what the text says about Dean’s guilt and what it condemns; this pattern continues throughout s9, and reaches its apex in the next several episodes. Dean’s love as a condemning feature rather than a redeeming one is one of my favorite things about SPN, and s9 has it in HIGH gear.

But, here, at least, Sam doesn’t rise to this bait either. “Don’t go thinking that’s the problem, ‘cause it’s not.” The problem is obviously, achingly, exhaustingly clear. Sam’s spelled it out in this very conversation: you tricked me. You lied to me. You got me possessed when I was willing to die. But Dean, and a fair portion of the audience, can’t hear it. So he doesn’t. And they don’t, and they pretend that this line is some sort of puzzle! a cliffhanger on a conversation unfinished! when it was the conclusion, not the beginning.

image that is now inextricable from 9.10

#9.10 #final thoughts #I have even more to say tbh #sam and cas #sam and dean #dean and cas #sam and gadreel #sam and crowley #sam and possession #sam and abuse #dean and self-hatred #sam and forgiveness #sam and mindscapes #sam and trauma #blahdose

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emcscared-whumps · 2 years

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I’ve had this little... snippet written for a while hehe

And I just remembered it, and wanted to show a couple of friends (I mean I shared it a little on discord when I first wrote it, but I wanna package this morsel so i can easily share it).

Anyway! My brain said “fuck it, share it with anyone who likes watching my boi Pete get hurt. A lot.”

So! I have polished it up, and here it is! Enjoy ^-^ (Full drabble below the cut, I’m thinkin this is canon btw).

CONTENT and WARNINGS: Knives, blood, breathing troubles, captivity whump, restraints, it/its as dehumanising pronouns, rampant dehumanisation, non-human whumpee, bigotry against him bc I love watching him in despair, and also the angst that comes with it!

wc: ~1k

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and children, to the Candimor City Aquarium!” A voice came grandly, echoing through the open space at the top of an enormous tank—from among the Hunters posing as security guards, a lithe, well-dressed figure strode onto a stage.

“My name is Sorrel Johnstone. Before we begin this evening, please give a warm thanks to Mr. DePetro for allowing this all to be possible.” He smiled sharply.

Applause.

His smile grew wider.

“You all came here tonight for one very special reason—and I assure you, you won’t be disappointed. This specimen, is quite rare…” He stated.

With a click of his fingers, chains rattled and rose from the water, dragging with it the tired, gaunt form of Pete, swaying in the chains suspending him from the beams overhead. Blue eyes flashed open, and focused with a panicked snap. He drew in a shaky break, but violent coughs wracked his body, each jolt made the cuffs dig deeper into darkly bruised wrists. A choked whimper was all that could escape his lips as the air felt like fire on the lash-marks that covered his back.

Water lapped at the base of the stage from the disturbance, and the crowd murmured amongst themselves, nervous, but clearly fascinated.

Johnstone turned slightly—his creature’s scales seemed to have lost their pearlescent lustre, and small patches were missing.

“Tsk tsk, stay still,” he hissed before continuing.

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he began, “this is a real, living mer. But not just any mer,” he added haughtily. With a clap of his hands, the skylight slowly opened, revealing the night sky, and the bright, full moon.

Pete’s eyes widened and his already laboured breaths hitched as he felt the moonlight hit his back. Immediately, he ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. The moon’s hypnotic pull sung to him, and his body screamed for him to answer it.

No! I can’t—

Johnstone turned and seized a fistful of dripping hair. Please! Pete opened his mouth in a silent cry, No, please! and writhed as his face was violently tipped back into the moon’s rays.

A few stunned gasps escaped the audience as the mer before them fell slack; it could only mean one thing—this beast, this monster, had walked among them.

Masqueraded as them.

Some gaped, some grimaced, but one glared.

Johnstone seemed to lap up the attention, revel in it as he released Pete’s head. “I think you all know what this creature is,” he declared.

“Damn right we do,” a man growled, “demon!”

Pete watched helplessly through eyes that wouldn’t focus.

The man stepped forward from the crowd until he stood not an inch from Johnstone. Dark eyes glittered with loathing and hostility as they met Johnstone’s.

Pete weakly tried to shy away, but it did little more than sway him as he dragged in another breath. The moon called so sweetly, I can’t give in, he thought weakly, I can’t… He fell slack once more, allowing his head to tilt back as the trance took hold.

“I don’t know how you allow this thing to live, Johnstone--” the man spat, “—it’s a danger to our lives, our children’s lives. It threatens our way of life!” His eyes glittered with spite as he looked Pete up and down. “This is the most pathetic wretch I’ve ever seen,” he sneered, “it wouldn’t be hard.”

Johnstone met his eyes coolly, unfazed. “If I let him die...” he started, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he skirted Pete, “then that would be no fun!”

A few quiet gasps and murmurs rose from the audience, fleeting glances flashed over Pete’s battered form.

Another laboured breath ended in a weak bout of coughing as Pete tried feebly to cringe away.

“It can’t even breathe properly.” The man said cruelly, and without another word, he lunged forward. Metal flashed coldly before slicing, burning pain tore through Pete’s belly. He let out a hoarse wail of agony, and the moon’s sweet call faded. Blood flowed freely down his tail, staining white scales red and clouding the water.

Everything slowed—Johnstone reached out and secured the dripping knife in one hand, and brought the man to his knees with a hiss. “That mer is not yours to kill.” “Get him out of my sight. And get these people outta here! NOW!”

Hunters, rushed over to the stage through the panicking throng of people.

“Everyone, leave the room.” The Elmer ordered, before taking the furious, struggling man by the arms.

“Let go of me!” He yelled, “It’s still alive, let me go!”

Cole dashed over to Pete, closely followed by Greene.

Pete’s eyes drooped closed as the blood continued to flow.

“Shit kid, shit,” Cole muttered, dethatching the chains suspending Pete. He gently laid him down on the stage and lowered his head into the water. Flaring gills were the only indication that he was still alive.

“Get me bandages, gauze! Anything! NOW!” Cole bellowed, as he put pressure on the gash, glancing up, ensure that human didn’t return. Blood slowly stained his hands, but he couldn’t let go.

Greene kneeled beside them, shrugging off body armour, holsters, and a shirt. His nervous gaze flickered over Pete’s motionless form.

“I don’t have a med kit on me,” he said, “take my overshirt while I get one.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Cole snatched it and pressed it firmly onto the wound. Blood turned the black shirt darker still, but the flow seemed to stem. He took Pete’s hand and found a weak, rapid pulse.

He would’ve sighed with relief if Johnstone hadn’t appeared behind him, bloodied knife in hand.

“That’ll need stitches…” he smirked.

Cole clenched his jaw—Johnstone’s… ‘medical attention’ was the last thing Pete needed. Hasn’t he suffered enough? He thought angrily.

“Take him to the exam room, and make sure he’s awake.” Johnstone ordered airily, tossing and catching the knife.

Greene returned with the med kit, but paused when he saw Johnstone.

“The dressings can wait.”

He swallowed. His House Master had far crueller plans-- he could feel it.

#whump #whump drabble #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #emergency caretaker #nonhuman whumpee #non-human whumpee #mer whump #mer whumpee #captivity whump #captivity #oc #original character #oc whump #dehumanisation #dehumanisation tw

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sevsnapeposts · 3 years

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Snapetober Day 3: Pumpkin carving.

hello everyone. this took more than it should've, honestly, but here it is. i feel like a made a mistake somewhere on the translation but oh well. Sev POV btw. feel free to read it over in ao3 if you'd like, and also if you'd be kind enough, go give me some kudos over there. thanks, hope you enjoy~.

Day 3 - Pumpkin craving.

Severus had an incredible ability to carve pumpkins. Where it came from, he had no idea, but he was capable of making all kinds of faces and figures, from a classic malevolent pumpkin to minimal landscapes and human faces. The most impressive thing is that he did it without the use of a wand: Armed with a good knife and an occasional extra object, he carved the pumpkin in the most traditional way possible.

He knew of the existence of his gift since he was a child. He was 8, on the first Halloween for which his mother had gotten some money to decorate his room, in an attempt to give him some happiness. The woman had done this after they passed one of the most beautiful houses on the street, which had a lot of little lights and scary decorations, and she noticed the glint of longing in her little son's eyes.

So, Eileen had managed to get some pumpkins at the fruit stand a few blocks away. There were three of them, a bit ugly and old, as well as small, but that would be more than enough for her and her child.

Severus clearly remembered the expression of his mother, who had marveled when he, using the razor with great care, had perfectly copied the face of the largest pumpkin in that house. Eileen's face had lit up like never before, the usual melancholy and weariness of her fading completely. She had laughed, and hugged him, and she let him carve the other two pumpkins, keeping a close eye to avoid any accidents, even though Severus was more than capable of doing it without a hitch.

The little pumpkins didn’t make it to Halloween though, because three days later (and two days before that date), Tobias found them and smashed them in half, shouting in his drunkenness that in his house no one was going to celebrate those stupid festivities, nor have decorations, nor spend money or time on them.

Severus had cried himself to sleep.

When he met Lily, however, he again had the opportunity to demonstrate his art. Lily took all of the pumpkins to her house, and they all adorned the Evans' yard even after Halloween, only being removed when Christmas got close enough. She had been fascinated, and during her years at Hogwarts, when the time came, she would always get one or two for him to carve out some pretty ornaments and then take them to her bedroom. Even after the end of their friendship, as a kind of apology, tribute, or torture (he didn't know which of the three, honestly), Severus would make pumpkins with flowers and leave them lying around, never close enough to any of them.

After Lily's death, Severus hadn't carved one again.

At least until that day. October had just begun, and he was stuck in Malfoy Manor keeping Lucius company, who since the divorce complained that the mansion was "too big and empty." Severus thought he well deserved it, but he still appreciated him too much to refuse an explicit invitation to stay with him for that month, as a more than special guest.

Of course, Prue was there too. Severus couldn't understand how she had gotten through things so easily, how she was able to sit at the same table as the man who had caused her so much fear and so many nightmares; but if she was comfortable enough with him to agree to stay at his house, then he had no say in it.

In any case, Lucius hadn’t invited them just because he could: He also knew that this was the now young woman's favorite month, and therefore, he couldn’t give her a better gift than to let her spend all those dates without lifting a finger, with elves attending all her wishes and without any responsibility beyond taking one side or the other between the "very mature" arguments the two men had all the time.

Prue always sided with Severus, unless Lucius bribed her with chocolates.

Be that as it may, at the time, the trio were in the back garden of the mansion, where a heap of pumpkins of all sorts of sizes and shapes were being arranged by a couple of elves.

"Overdone as always", Severus said, sighing through his nose and rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. Lucius smiled at him, pleased as always to show off his ability to do whatever he pleased.

"I thought you might need a few to practice first", the blond replied.

"There are more than fifty", commented Prue, who was standing between them, holding hands with Severus.

Happens that, during breakfast, Lucius had brought up Severus' old custom with pumpkins. Prue proved she was very interested in it, as she had never imagined that he would have any artistic ability, and she had asked him to see some of his work. He was saying that it was not a big deal, and that he hadn’t touched a pumpkin for more than 19 years, and that there wasn’t even one there, when Lucius called his elves and sent them to buy "a few", declaring that he wouldn’t escape giving them a show and, incidentally, decorating the mansion.

Lucius was undoubtedly still fulfilling Prue's whims.

"Well, I suppose we can sit here whilst you slaughter a few vegetables”, purred the master of the manor. Just after he pronounced those words, one of the elves snapped its fingers, three chairs and two tall benches appearing near the trio. Lucius invited Prue to sit down while he handed Severus the "pumpkin killing tools," as the youngest of the three had called them. In return, he asked for his wand. “To avoid cheating. You always said it was manual”.

"And it is", Severus replied with annoyance, though he still held out his wand, which Lucius tucked into his coat. Then he went to sit in the chair next to Prue, who was watching them intently with those pretty eyes. Severus noticed that she was smiling slightly at him, and returned the gesture.

"I think an average pumpkin would be a good start", Lucius commented, crossing one leg over the other. Prue nodded, and the blond drew his own wand, pointing at a medium pumpkin, which floated up to the trio, hovering in the air in front of him. He used a simple incantation to empty the inside of the fruit, and Severus took it at last.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous, but he still got to work on it.

Half an hour later, the first pumpkin was ready. It had a normal face, not very elaborate, and it smiled wickedly. Lucius scored it with a "not bad at all," as he stared at the fruit, head laying on Prue's shoulder (who had only stiffened a bit). Then they both asked him to do another.

And so, by the end of the day, almost all of the pumpkins had been carved. Severus had done most of them, his designs the prettiest and most striking for obvious reasons. He had even made a special one for his two companions: For Lucius, a pumpkin with a snake that wrapped itself around it and finally looked straight ahead with its fangs poking out; and for Prue, a pumpkin-cat of Lucifer.

The rest had been done mainly by Prue, who was encouraged to try after the fifth one. She had just carved funny and cute faces, although one of the pumpkins had been hidden away from everyone and she didn’t let them see it. Lucius scoffed saying that she sure had fucked it up and she didn't want to be humiliated, to which Prue threw an unused pumpkin at his head, making Severus laugh.

The blond ended up using the one that had been thrown at him to carve it himself, although halfway there he got despaired and used his wand to finish it. Severus called him a sore, dirty cheater.

In any case, by the time they went to bed a long time later, after having dinner and entertaining Prue with ghost stories, the entire mansion was already illuminated with the dim light emerging from within the pumpkins. Severus was proud of his creations, and terribly flattered that something he had made was displayed like a trophy for all to see.

His feeling of happiness increased much more when, coming out of the bathroom after taking a shower, he found the sweet scene that was seeing Prue asleep in the bed they shared, covered up to her nose and with her beautiful face totally relaxed, as it was only when she had a day that she had fully enjoyed. Next to her, leaning against the pillow that belonged to the man, was the pumpkin that she hadn’t let anyone see. Severus took it delicately and turned it, finding a carving of a cauldron from which a heart was emerging. Looking between the openings, he noticed that there was a piece of parchment inside of it, which he pulled out with the help of his long fingers.

"Thank you for teaching me how to carve pumpkins. I made this with you in mind. I love you."

That night, for the first time in over 30 years, Severus Snape slept not only with decorations in his room, but with a smile that persisted until dawn.

#snapetober #snapedom #snapetober 2021 #severus snape #severus x oc #snape x oc #pro snape #lucius malfoy #oc #original character #harry potter original character #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic

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nukyster-blog · 4 years

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Changing Course chapter 21) Forty minus one

Ivar awoke by the first sunlight of dawn. The white rays were watery and cold, like the temperature in the dungeon. Frost had slowly allowed itself to enter the castle’s walls and inched inside, ridding Ivar’s prison cell of the last bits of warmth.

Ivar did not recall if he slept or lost consciousness due to the cold. He guessed the latter, as the bitter cold had chilled his fingers into useless numbness and crept further down into his body. It spread painfully from his toes into his feet robbing his skin of all color.

“Maybe”, he thought, “this is not the worst day to die”; he honestly didn’t believe he’d survive the winter.

The cold of night had robbed him of strength, but not of spirit. He would not fight his death but he’d do everything in his power to keep his jaws locked and mouth shut. He’d undergo whatever punishment those Christians thought proper for his crime and die with dignity.

A gust of frigid wind wrapped around him like a shawl woven by ice itself. His teeth chattered as he tried to warm his body by rocking back and forth.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He began to lose his sense of time. Back and forth, back and forth. Hunger gnawed a hole in his stomach. Back and forth, back and forth.

The dead rat slowly but steadily became a reasonable meal. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Ivar?”

Ivar glanced up to the barred window. It was Piglet; in order for her to peek into Ivar’s prison cell she had to lay her head on the ground.

“Piglet?” Ivar crawled underneath the window and stared up, squinting his eyes. The young woman above reached back for a moment and managed to shove her arm through the bars.

A polished, red apple dropped into Ivar’s lap.

“Ivar…” her voice was brittle and soft; she reached further down into the cell as a desperate attempt for a last connection.

It was impossible. Even if Ivar had been able to stand, the walls were too high.

“I guess this is it then Piglet, we had a good run,” Ivar spoke toneless, watching her hand reach and wave, “we were a proper match you and I. It’s a shame you believe in a false God…” and that was where he stopped himself from becoming sentimental. Because both of them were aware they would never see each other again, there was no reason to voice the truth.

“A shame,” he ended and shut out all of her weeping. For a while, her arm remained reaching and waving, but as Ivar remained silent, Piglet eventually gave up and left.

He’d never know if she’d spoken any last words of goodbye for him, because he blocked everything out, all while eating her apple. Even the core, because he did not want her to get in trouble and he could use all the strength given.

.-.-.

Overnight the lessers of the castle had placed a beech wooden pole in the centre near the well. It wouldn't be the only silent witness of Ivar’s punishment. The rest of the bystanders were already buzzing and whispering about what was to come.

The Giant hadn’t been pleased with Ivar’s forehead statement and had wiped off the Runen R with spit and his sleeve.

The cobblestones bruised his knees as Ivar was shoved, poked, and kicked in order to get into the centre.

The three rulers and the fair maiden had taken place nearest the pole, seated on wooden chairs. Their place had the best view for the spectacle, although Lambertus and his wife, Haedwien, did not look pleased with being present. The fair maiden had her hand pressed against her mouth, cheeks pale and on the verge of getting sick.

And Ludolf, sat sunken on his seat, bored and maybe even a bit embarrassed. For it was due to his “wound” that the slave had to suffer and be an example for the rest. The bystanders were on foot, nudging and pulling to get to the front row.

For some reason Ivar was pleased to see the Christians fight for the best spot, at least those soulless bastards had some sense of bloodlust. Maybe they were more Viking then they’d like to admit.

Ivar was forced on his knees, facing the pole. His arms were stretched far above his head and tied to the beech wood. A knife was dragged jaggedly through his humble tunic, tearing the fabric open, baring his back, shoulders and neck completely.

“Will they Bloodeagle me?” Ivar wondered stunned, as he pressed his cheek against the wood in an attempt to pick up everything that was happening behind him. But his arms were tied too high, leaving his face and most of his upper body pressed against the pole, minimizing his mobility.

The Giant spoke some biblical nonsense; Ivar concluded from the Giant’s tone. Ivar’s assumption was completely confirmed when he heard the book slam shut.

The first lash came completely unexpected and Ivar broke his solemn rule—to keep his mouth shut. A pain plagued hiss managed to escape through his teeth. The second lash managed to hit the exact same position as the first and cut through Ivar’s skin. A tortuously slow pattern emerged, one of two lashes and then a moment of ease. Ivar later learned that moment of pause wasn’t for him, no, it was for the Giant, so his arm would not tire.

The lashes seemed to rip Ivar open to the marrow, like rigged daggers the leather dug deeper and deeper into his skin. Time did not matter anymore; all that remained was the rhythm of the lashes.

A scream from deep within forced its way from Ivar’s mouth, it was not one of fright, but one formed entirely of anger that unleashed itself like a demon. It took two more lashes to silence him, fists clenching and teeth locking up all of his remaining sound. Now that his anger escaped him, there was only despair.

Ivar lost count after fifteen, his ears were ringing and he could no longer see clearly. His mind seemed afloat; his body a vacant, aching shell. There was a low indistinct sound, almost animalistic. It took him a moment to realize those where his own hoarse moans.

The cobblestones wore more and more spatters of Ivar’s blood. It did not take many more lashes for his battered skin to peel loose, falling down at his knees like bloody autumn leaves.

A deep, raspy caw called down to him. Ivar’s eyes were able to focus enough on the top of the pole to see the black silhouette of a raven, contrasting against the milky white sky.

“Father—“ Ivar watched the bird as his front teeth scraped over the beech wood.

The raven cawed again, its beady eyes mercilessly taking in the scene beneath it. With wings black as tar, it gracefully landed near Ivar’s knees. Ravens were known for their curiosity, but even they knew their limits. It wasn’t common for birds to come so near such a large crowd of humans. But the raven did not show any hesitation and pecked at the remains of Ivar’s skin. It peeked up again, taking a piece of Ivar before lifting off, heading off into the milky white sky.

Ivar inhaled a sharp breath as the leather tore at his skin again, but this time he felt elevated.

“You can beat every inch of my body,” he whispered hoarsely, “but you cannot kill me. Not today, because I am Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and I have my father’s blessings.”

His eyes rolled back as his body was close to giving in to the immense pain scorching his entire back. The crowd had grown silent; most faces contorted with plagued expressions. The fair maiden had fled the scene. Ludolf’s lips were twisted into a satisfied, lopsided and sadistic smile.

Pain prevails over every emotion. It conquers lust, hunger, envy, hatred. Pain can divide brothers by blood; it can drive wise men mad.

To triumph over pain, you need to be extraordinary—near Godly.

In between the last few lashes, Ivar had an epiphany: he could not die before he’d fulfilled his destiny. And, although he did not know what lay in his future, he wholeheartedly believed the Gods had laid out an exceptional path for him. It became quite clear; he had beat death too many times to simply die by the hands of a Christian commoner.

Maybe he deserved this punishment, for he’d questioned the Gods too many times and cursed them for turning him from a cripple prince into a slave. His mother had been a Vülva, able to see the past, present and future. But interpreting the will of the Gods was hard, maybe she’d seen his death wrong and had it merely been a rebirth.

He’d been resurrected from death, by his father, time after time. So for today, Hellheim and Valhalla had to wait for his arrival, for he had his destiny to fulfill.

.-.-.

In the bible Moses’ Law referred to flagellation; the law itself meant forty lashes less one; thirty-nine lashes. The term was meant as a biblical one, in that 40 lashes were determined enough to kill a man, according to the Old Testament and thus 39 lashes was the most you give a man without declaring a penalty of death.

Today the crippled slave of de Haar survived forty.

.-.-.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I’ve been so impatient to write this chapter. At the start, I only had a few guidelines: hurt, massive hurt and excruciating hurt. But then I figured I had to keep Ivar’s spirit intact in order for him to survive. So yes, once again Ragnar in the form of a Raven reappeared. As I’ve mentioned before, you can see this every way you like, spiritual, emotional. Is it just a young man in desperate need of comfort, or is there truly a link between Midgard and Valhalla? Pick whatever you please. And in case you wonder, I’ve made up Ivar’s entire path towards his destiny like the moment I started writing this story. In my head, it’s all written out, wrapped into a trilogy. Now just the time to drabble it all out. The 40 minus 1 is a true thing btw, I’ve done some (too much) research, it’s believed that Jesus received 39 whippings and since I’ve thrown Christianity into the mix I figured I might as well add some information as well.

So that was it for today, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or sat there cringing in your chair, either way I’ve done my job well.

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic

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doomedandstoned · 3 years

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King Buffalo Provide Respite For Pandemic-Weary Listeners on ‘The Burden of Restlessness’

~By Billy Goate~

Artwork by Zdzisław Beksiński

I confess, I came a little late to the KING BUFFALO party. I mean, I’ve known about them from their very first record on and have even picked songs to play on The Doomed & Stoned Show that's I've found particularly enjoyable. Regulars to the program know I’ve always been more a doomer than a stoner, though obviously relishing music from both worlds. Only recently had I given myself the opportunity of really baking in their music. It probably has something to do with the summer psychedelic kick I’m on lately, that and I’ve been getting a lot more sunshine, walking more, learning how to enjoy being human again.

Not only did I give the band's latest LP, 'The Burden of Restlessness' (2021) a solid listen, I've been spinning it non-stop! The title grabbed me right away, because I could very much identify with the uncertainty and fear of 2020 lockdowns, which eventually gave way to boredom and stoic despair. Depending on who you ask, it's their third studio album and it's got its hooks in me for damn sure.

Sonically, the sound is fresh and vital, every note captured prestinely by frontman/guitarist at Rochester's Main Street Armory between December and January. I don't know if he's a sound engineer on the side or what, but I really am impressed by how present the instruments sound, without excessive reverberation. After Sean finished recording and mixing, the tapes were sent to Grammy-nominated producer Bernard Matthews for mastering on the other side of the continent in Portland, Oregon.

Let's go through King Buffalo's release track-by-track, because I think there's plenty to talk about here.

1. Burning

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I feel it falling apart Too many blisters and scars Are we the wick or the flame, are they just one in the same? Was it just doomed from the start?

The record opens with “Burning” and in those first dozen seconds of churning downtuned noise, we’re unsure what kind of song it’s going to be. An assertive riff-motif starts to dance to the accompaniment of a motor-like rhythm. The singing is as depressive as we’re bound to encounter from King Buffalo, with lyrics that express regret about “another year lost in the wasteland” and that feeling of falling apart while time stands still.

The members of King Buffalo have been on a steadily rising trajectory in recent years, so the sudden closures of concert halls and canceled tours wasn't just a bummer for a lot of professional musicians; it had immediate career implications, along with the obvious problem of no job = no money. It’s one thing to weather through a crisis when you know what the end game is, and at this time last year most of us still didn’t know what the hell was going to happen. We thought everything would open up and return to normal, then the summer of 2020 exploded all around us with social unrest. The album’s title speaks to the creative frustrations of being not only uncertain of when your band is next going to tour, but what to do in the meanwhile. For creative people, there’s a burden to create -- sometimes just to keep yourself from going mad with frustration.

2. Hebetation

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I don’t know which way to run One thousand different ways but I can’t seem to live with one So I’m stuck where I’ve begun Another languid day, can’t seem to break away

“Hebetation” was one of the singles that emerged before the album was independently released toward the start of summer. It is the song I relate to the most, too. Vibrant Helmetesque riffmaking sets the song a sail, with a bit of a nod to Sabbath as well. The math-like interplay between drums, bass, and guitar have a vaguely krautrock aura about it, though the volume and tone is pure metal. Like the opening track, the words are frank and honest, addressing the weight of unfulfilled dreams, the jadedness that comes with disappointment, and suicidal thoughts that come floating into mind when it seems nothing's working out as planned. “Nothing’s changed at 35. Still every night I dream a million different ways for me to die.”

3. Locusts

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

Stifling the sun with wicked hands Everything undone with vicious plans

“Locusts,” as the name implies, is replete with bouncing guitar rhythm, with picking that seems to dart about like that swarm of grasshoppers that used to sweep through my poor pitiful East Texas garden mid-summer and shred everything in sight. Around the 3:30 mark, we’re treated to an extended high-end grinder of a B-section, with sweeping psychedelic gestures ala Kim Thayil -- and hearkening back to the melodic motif of another great song: “Sun Shivers.” When the A section returns, the rhythm is more deliberate, less dashing about in math or progressive fashion. The song ends with what could well end up an extended drone jam on just the right night as King Buffalo continues to roll through the U.S.

4. Silverfish

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I stare at the cracks in the wall And melt into nothing A silverfish slithering away, from everything

“Silverfish” got a music video, which was a wise choice as the song is quite accessible and relatable, too (even if it did get a few people wondering if King Buffalo was having their own “The Sword Moment” stylistically). The main motif is a two-note broken interval from high note to low in an almost an ‘80s-style nod to the advent of computer generated music (to my ears it sounds like the guitar may either be taking on the action or playing in sync with the synthesizer).

Never fear, the heavy is soon here. When I heard those first crashing tripled-down chords, I let out an inner hellllll yeah to that shit. The quirky little melody from the start comes back, this time on guitar in a way that really works to convince you that it was a good artistic choice from the get-go.

Lyrically, it's another wistful line of expression: “I stare at the cracks in the wall, I think I’m unravelling...I think I’m losing my grip on everything, I’m drifting away.” This is also one of the few songs on the record with a strong melodic chorus. It comes towards the end, which works quite effectively in climaxing the song.

(BTW, anyone else freaked out by silverfish as much as me?)

5. Grifter

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I make my way over the dunes Desolate and dry The remnants of empires past Too stubborn to die

“Grifter” returns to the everyman accessibility of “Burning” and “Hebetation,” with a notably despondent tenor to each line of the song. The calm singing over rhythmic verses so characteristic of King Buffalo’s writing gives way to a brutal grind sans chorus. Sometimes you don’t have words and you just have to work it all out with your axe or piano or whatever's your jam. There didn’t need to be a big, bloated angry chorus on top of it all. We feel that most adequately from the riffmaking itself, which plays out like slow burning frustration that intensifies with every round of the dirge.

6. The Knocks

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

Everyday I wake up on the floor Another useless day like every other that’s come before I can feel it creeping more and more Don’t think I wanna wake no more, don’t think I wanna live no more

“The Knocks” features the same keyboard playing as before, so now I’m sure it's either Sean or bassist Dan Reynolds on synth -- though the playing here is much more ornamental, at times adding an exclamation point to the sentiment of the lyrics. It might be a little much if overplayed, but here it’s dispensed judiciously. We have a bass, drums, and synth break where a chorus would normally be, followed by another shred sesh that’s feeling like Helmet or Prong love. A beautiful mid-range guitar melody intervenes, then things start to feel a distinctively robotic pattern announces itself around the 3:20 mark, joined in short order by the rest of the instruments. This leads to a melodious guitar sequence, with the dexterous kind of finger work that the one dude at shows likes so much when he pretends to shred next to the stage.

7. Loam

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I’m shedding the burden of restlessness To rise from the loam of the nothingness

“Loam” hearkens back to my favorite King Buffalo album, ‘Longing To Be The Mountain’ (2018). A broken octave rhythmic pattern is plucked with drums and bass being all cool, saying just the right thing at the right time. Atop it, the jaded, sedated crooning of Sean McVay, which as both a musical and cultural Doomer I find appealing. A mean guitar lick lashes out like a whip atop bass and drums around 3 minutes, then tears into another voiceless psychedelic improvisation. It's a beautiful instrumental metal section with a hard rock appeal. The song returns to its opening vibe in an almost Toolesque fashion, then opts for more catharsis-giving mosh time and another plaintively sung extended note melody.

The verses give us a hint of hope, as Sean declares: "I’m shedding the burden of restlessness / To rise from the loam of the nothingness." I'm curious to hear the two other albums the band plans on releasing in 2021 (yes, you read that right!) and how they will pair or contrast with this one.

King Buffalo's The Burden of Restlessness holds a special place in my music library and its songs are a frequent highlight of my daily playlist. I suspect it will be a record you, too, will keep close at hand as the plague rages on. A balm for the weary soul.

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#D&S Reviews #King Buffalo #Rochester #New York #desert rock #krautrock #blues #stoner rock #progressive rock #metal #HeavyBest2020 #Doomed and Stoned

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viridiansindria · 4 years

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Fate Timeline

Courtesy of the new Case Files Mats. This goes for all of them btw as the various Fate works only start diverging from each other in the 20th century.

960 BC: King Solomon's death. The Age of Gods end here. The traces of Mystery were supposed to fade from this point on and become reduced to nothing by the point of AD.

The night before AD: The user of the First Magic is Born

00 AD: The remaining magus from the Age of Gods lay the foundation of the Mage's Association. "Mystery will one day disappear, but let's preserve the knowledge as an academia." was their motto(reason to take action). However---

20 AD: The 5th Imaginary Element "Ether" is proven. The New World begins. It was decided that Magecraft and Mystery was to be continued in a different form. The other magus from the Age of Gods shut themselves in the Atlas Temple and the Wandering Sea, and although they did not agree to our motto, we preserved our fellowship as mutual followers of the academy of mystery. This, in future, developed into the Mage's Association

20~100 AD: The headmaster, along with his associates, work diligently in their activities. Thanks to their work, more people began learning magecraft and the energy(morale) from the Age of Gods began to come back. From around this time, Dead Apostles began appearing in the Magus world(society) and they began attacking mages as they saw them as an enemy(threat).

300 AD: The night in the forest capital, the Battle at the Millennium Castle

It is said...that a battle between the Crimson Moon and the Wizard Marshall Zelretch took place

300~500 AD: In the Western European countries of the Great Continent, the Holy Church begins building up its influence(power). The Mage's Association decline. The damage from the fight with the Crimson Moon was too deep. The Winter for magecraft begins. The Magus Capitals that the Mage's Association developed became shut down one by one because of the conflict with the Holy Church. With the Crimson Moon destroyed, Gransurg Blackmore, in despair accepts his own destruction. Even though he raises his own disciples, on that night of the Blue Moon, he is defeated by an Executor who happened to pass by. "I met that person on a night like this. Then a night like this is the time for me to die".

500 AD: The last remaining True Ether(5th True Element) on the British Island disappears. A group of magus set their headquarters in the British Island. This marks the beginning of the "Clock Tower"

600~900 AD: The Spirit Grave, Albion is excavated. The Clock Tower continues to dig into the depth of Britain and gains an insurmountable asset(fortune) for magecraft. The Clock Tower becomes a light of hope to the declining Magus world and a great number of magus and investors gather.

900 AD: Justeaze, the Holy Maiden of the Einzbern is born. The Third Magic that has been told over 1000 years is finally proven.

1000 AD: The prodigy child Barthomeloi arrives at the Clock Tower. The groundwork for the Aristocratic classes of Magus is formed.

1200 AD: The Clock Tower is now the center of the Magus world. The Monarch system is complete. (At this time there were 12 departments with the Faculty of Policies being one of them)

1400 AD: Zepia is inaugurated to the role of Director. To this day, he is continuing that role.

1600 AD: The way of the Faculty of Policies start to be questioned. It is no longer an academic department. From this point on, it became a separate faculty and the 12 departments became 11 departments.

1800 AD: The Industrial Revolution of Great Britain. It was a painful blow to the magus world but knowledge and technology becoming more complex is a good thing. It was the most damaging form of attack to the Holy Church, who increased it's influence with its "Singular World View", so we even supported it. At this point there was an internal conflict on whether to accept this industrial revolution. Later this became the cause of the divide between the Aristocratic Faction and the Democratic Faction. It was impossible to ignore the new genre of Modern Magecraft Theory and it filled the slot of the empty 12th department. However, although it was added as the 12th department, because modern magecraft was looked down upon, this department does not have a lord assigned to it at this point.

1994 AD: Lord El-Melloi dies in a minor ritual called the Grail War in Japan. Seriously?

2004 AD: The follow-up 5th Grail War begins. Rumored that the Third Magic was recreated. Seriously!?

2015 AD: The Grand Order declared in a parallel word.

#fate series #nasuverse #type moon #fate grand order #fgo #lord el melloi ii case files #nice new lore #so in Tsukihime timelines that random executor doesn't stumble across the depressed gransurg #justeaze is also way older than we thought

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wedreamedlove · 4 years

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Bai Qi In Love - Character Study

Archiving from Reddit. This is also the main post I wanted to bring over but it required my previous Bai Qi - Character Study post LOL.

So I went through Bai Qi's Spring Festival Date and I have not been the same ever since, so I wanted to expel all my emotions in another character post.

Had a couple of songs in the background while I was writing this, so feel free to put them on too while reading this post LOL.

Contains spoilers up to Chapter 15 and lines from unreleased CN cards. Translations are from the CN and JP version, so may have differing lines from the ENG version.

My road map this time is starting out with the origin of Bai Qi's love, moving onto his letter, how he's gone through his life with MC being his North Star, and then finishing off again with just how much he wants to share every moment of his life with her.

I mentioned before in my Speech Quirks post that Bai Qi always defaults to absolute sincerity when he's not sure how to respond to MC and I hope this reminds you of that, and just how he has a sixth sense when it comes to MC. Every cell in his body is attuned to her.

Normally, this level of devotion to someone is probably unhealthy but, well, MC is the paragon of goodness here so he's in good hands LOL.

FALLING SLOWLY (IN LOVE)

First (another song here!), this is the JP translation of ground zero in the [Campus Date]:

The man raised his knife and attacked Bai Qi, stabbing the sharp blade at him. But still, Bai Qi desperately countered.

Finally, everyone was knocked down but Bai Qi, who was bleeding horribly, stumbled. In his hazy consciousness, the sound of the piano gradually weakened. It was like falling into light from heaven.

In that moment, the boss of the gang took this chance to kick Bai Qi and, because of that hit, Bai Qi fell from the rooftop.

Bai Qi reached out with both hands, trying to grab something as he felt himself plummeting.

Suddenly, a melody reverberated, filled with a strong energy, pressure, and tension.

That sound crossed space and time and resonated with Bai Qi's memories.

The sight of his father wearing a military uniform and his gentle mother... memories of his childhood poured into him all at once.

"Lieutenant General, regrettably, there was no evidence of Evol in his genes."

"There's no meaning for such a useless thing to exist."

Since his mother passed away, he was always alone. It was like he was the only one in this world.

If he died, those guys would probably be happy.

Bai Qi heard rhythmical and strong piano notes and, as he was engulfed in the fierce winds, he felt his body becoming lighter.

"NO!"

Not like this.

His life didn't need his father, friends, or a meaning.

Bai Qi clenched his hands into fists with these strong emotions and the power, sleeping deep in his body, awakened.

He felt a pulse in the wind and, between the vast expanse of heaven and earth, life spread through on the wind.

The melody he heard eventually turned into something overflowing with emotions. In the depths of autumn, the gingko leaves blown up by the wind danced and glimmered in the air.

Bai Qi traveled through the air like a bird and small birds, with their wings spread, gathered happily around him.

Entranced with the piano notes, he hummed freely to the song.

The birds flapped their wings, startled by Bai Qi's sudden humming.

Bai Qi gently picked up a small bird and continued to hum.

It was joy for his reborn self and a declaration of the coming light and end of darkness.

He heard the singing of a girl along with the piano notes.

That clear voice had a powerful force which captured people's hearts and wouldn't let go.

The girl's singing and piano drew Bai Qi's mind and body over strongly.

The wind lifted Bai Qi's body and carried him to a window. Looking inside, he saw a girl playing the piano.

Maybe it was the reflection of the gingko leaves fluttering outside the window, but the girl's eyes sparkled like stars.

She continued to accompany herself on the piano and it was as if she was resonating with the wind.

It was an ordinary girl, but he felt a strong spirit from her.

The girl's hands danced on top of the white and black keys and her piano song shook Bai Qi's heart.

He quietly watched her, feeling that the seed sown in his heart was sprouting.

The girl had no idea that her piano saved a boy who was about to fall into a dark abyss.

And there was no way for the girl to know that the boy swore on his life to protect her.

BTW, the song MC was playing at this time was Liszt's Liebestraum No. 3 (Love Dream). During the second anniversary, Papergames confirmed some of the piano songs in the game.

I don't think it needs to be said that Bai Qi was literally going to die at this moment. Not only physically but I'm sure he was mentally at his limits too. Despite the tough act he puts on about being used to loneliness and not caring for what other people think about him, humans are social creatures. He felt like he was all alone in the world and was about to give up on life. I feel like we can draw some analogies to depression here.

There's also an intentional foil in [Chapter 12] between Bai Qi, Jay, and Josie. There's a reference to Josie in [Chapter 7] and MC was sympathizing about how Evol made Josie get treated like a monster, and that sort of darkness can easily change someone. Bai Qi's reply is:

[Main Story 7-18]: "Then I'm very lucky. There was someone who caught me right before I hit the bottom."

But going back to the scene with Jay in [Main Story 12-8], when he's being interrogated, he accuses Bai Qi of not knowing anything about the despair he went through. But, as we all know, Bai Qi lost his father (when he didn't show Evol genes), lost his mother (in the fire), and lost his younger brother (their father took him away and their relationship soured after the death of their mother).

Yet, unlike Jay, he didn't lash out at society and turn to the darkness because he met MC.

[Campus Date] is such a critical date about Bai Qi's character and his convictions and how, while a part of it was formed to go against his father's version of justice, it really solidified because of MC. He learned to love life and cherish its preciousness because of MC.

Because of just how important this ground zero is for Bai Qi, we see references made to this scene again and again and again:

[Main Story 15-7]: "And you saved me. Don't lower your head, look at me. Don't feel insecure and don't feel like you're useless. You caught me again right before I hit the bottom."

[Spring Festival Date]: "The day I met her, there were gingko leaves drifting and falling slowly through the air, and it was the most beautiful time in late autumn. It was also the darkest time of my life. But she was the one who caught me tightly when I fell."

[CN Rumors and Secrets: Ashes]: Bai Qi is bleeding out and touches the picture of MC that he always keeps on him in his breast pocket and sees that a corner of it is stained red. Then he thinks back to the time he heard her play the piano, lightly, gently, slowly, and how it seeped into his body and heart. [Context: this is before he reunites with MC].

THE. LETTER.

We learn about it in [Chapter 7] and how Bai Qi gave it to Minor to pass to the MC, but she saw the bloodstains on it and, because of the bad rumors around Bai Qi and how she misunderstood the sight of him threatening a student to cough up (stolen) money, she thought the letter was a threat LOL.

I'm laughing out loud, but rest assured I'm actually crying inside.

However, the truth is that it was a goodbye letter:

[Main Story 7-20]: "What I regret the most? Probably not handing that letter to that girl personally. [Was it a love letter?] No, it was a goodbye letter. [Why did you write a goodbye letter?] Why should I tell you? [Bro, look, everyone's listening. Give me some face] Because that girl said that she hated it the most when people leave without saying goodbye. [One last question. Could you tell us what was in that letter?] It doesn't matter. Let's just leave that letter in the past. We'll have lots of time in the future together."

For those curious, the contents of the letter is from [CN Rumors and Secrets: Angled Light] but I think this is part of the Dream Heart Lake event series and so won't be released: "Saturday, 9:00AM, I'll be waiting for you in the school library."

By the way, to make things more tragic, you also learn here that he waited for 14 hours at the library, until he was forced out because it was closing, and before he left he slid a gingko leaf into a book that had a collection of Lord Byron poems, which the MC often carried.

The reason he wanted to say goodbye to MC was because, after his Evol awakened and he was going to graduate, his father enlisted him into special training and (threatens) points out that Bai Qi now has someone he wants to protect, but MC is special and she won't have a peaceful life. Does Bai Qi really think he can protect her (as he is)?

It doesn't say what page Bai Qi placed the gingko leaf into, but in [CN Rumors and Secrets: Ashes] Bai Qi thinks he finally understands one of the poems in the book.

Lord Byron's "Don Juan" - Canto the Ninth, XVI and I bolded the part he quotes:

"To be, or not to be?" — Ere I decide, I should be glad to know that which is being? 'Tis true — we speculate both far and wide, And deem, because we see, we are all-seeing; For my part, I'll enlist on neither side Until I see both sides for once agreeing; For me, I sometimes think that Life is Death, Rather than Life a mere affair of breath.

Meanwhile, in [CN Tide of Light SSR Chasing Dreams Date]:

"That year, I did want to give you that letter personally. But I gave myself a way out and left it up to luck. I knew that, at the time, I was still lacking a lot and so I decided that I had to meet you again with my best self."

On a last note, in [CN Yesterday's Breeze SSR Former Days Date] MC asks Bai Qi if he has ever imagined them not reuniting with each other again:

"I've thought about it before. I've thought about how, if I wasn't there, would there be people who would bully that girl and would there be anyone who'd get back at them for her? I've also thought about whether there'd be someone who'd give her a love letter and if she would end up loving someone else... So, if I was to ever meet her again, I had to make sure to catch her. And I'd never let go again."

BTW, in this date, MC has some sort of dream projection where she goes back to their high school days (but the past her also exists LOL so there's two of them) and she has some fun interactions with a grumpy high school Bai Qi. But the heartbreaking part is that MC sees the letter and runs to find him and you get to hear Bai Qi say, self-deriding, that he knew "she" wouldn't come...

HIS (GUIDING MOONLIGHT) NORTH STAR

So, after seeing just how important MC is to Bai Qi, is it any wonder that every atom of his body is attuned to her? SOBS HE JUST LOVES HER SO MUCH. Xu Mo may have the red string of fate, but Bai Qi has "all roads lead to you". She's his lodestone and his compass always points to her.

[CN Lost Forest SSR]: "I will always walk towards you first. You're forever my flag, the one I've kept to throughout every moment of my life."

[CN Go See Him: Military Uniform]: "This uniform and these medals are my convictions, and you are the direction I move forward in."

[CN Southern Wind SSR Road Trip Date]: "The start and end of this journey is you."

I feel like I'm missing more, because I swear the majority of Bai Qi's cards all seem to have some sort of direction quote and relating it back to MC.

Anyway, I won't bother bringing the examples I put in the other post (because they're over there) but this is also why it melts me whenever there's description about Bai Qi's eyes following MC or whenever he's just focusing his attention on her (with heart eyes) in the ASMRs.

Additionally, in my previous character study for Bai Qi, I talked about how MC and Bai Qi both encourage each other to grow with unconditional love and acceptance, but I want to add some quotes here about just how much he takes becoming a better person for MC to heart:

[Spring Festival Date]: "She's the one who told me I could live more strongly, and she's also the one who told me I could live more gently."

[CN Clear After the Rain SSR]: "You're the only one who can find the real me."

[CN Drunk Easterly Wind SSR Three Worlds Date]: "Regardless of whatever lives we have, I will always take my best self and give it to you. This isn't an undertaking and it's not a joke. All of these are just words from my heart."

[Slightly Drunken Date]: "No matter which side of me, they're all yours."

What can I say except that's love, baby! You don't need to complete each other, you just need to encourage each other to be the best version of yourselves!

FOREVER BY YOUR SIDE

Now that we've gotten through the bulk of what I want to say, I'm just going to dump all the romantic stuff Bai Qi has declared to MC.

It really bothers him that he wasn't there for most of her early life, but he maintains his optimism (wouldn't be surprised if he learned it from her) and looks forward to their future together.

[Prank Date]: "I wasn't there for your university, middle school, or elementary school years, and even the time before then. In my memories, there's only the sight of you in high school. At that time, your hair was longer than it is now. But it doesn't matter. From here on, we have time to create new memories."

[Love of my Life SSR Goodnight Wish Call]: "I just... thought about you in many small instances. For example... a movie, a song, a lyric, when I'm crossing the road, and... the moment I close my eyes [...] As long as you're willing, I want to take all the time that's considered yours and turn it to "ours" [...] I want to know how you were before I met you. I want to walk the roads you've walked before, see the sights you've seen before, and... brand my mark on all those moments [...] Yes. I really care about that. I want to make up for all the time I wasn't there in your life. But, right now, what I care about more is our future [...] In our future... I want to hold your hand and walk to the end of our ever after. That's the best future I can imagine."

[Mediterranean Date]: "The missed holidays, the dates I couldn't make, and the many times I had to disappear without being able to tell you... I've never had the time to make up for all of these things. So, no matter what we do, no matter where we go, as long as the person beside me is you, I won't have a single objection."

[Love of my Life SSR Wish Call]: "My wish? From the second I met you again, the wish I made to the stars every night has already been realized."

[2018 Birthday Message]: "Sometimes, whenever I pass an interesting place, I'll think about when I can bring you here to walk around. Whenever I eat something good, I'll buy one more on habit. And, whenever I run into danger on missions, I just need to think about you and my will to fight is rekindled. Because you're here, happy occasions went from being for one person to being for two people. And all the things that would worry someone have disappeared into nothing. Is it strange to hear me say this? But I want to tell you, just how important you are in my life. I don't believe in fate, but I believe in miracles. Meeting you is the most precious miracle in my life."

[Spring Festival Date]: "In the rest of my life, I want to use it all to accompany you, care for you, and love you. This is all genuine. They're all words I want to say to you... words said only to you."

[Main Story 14-22]: "I'll be with you, until the very last moment."

MOM, I LOVE THIS 2D MAN SO MUCH!! Haha, sorry, I just had to get that out of my system. Thank you for reading up to this point and I hope this lets people appreciate Bai Qi more. Gotta spread more propaganda for him and convince people that he's not just the boring vanilla character.

He's someone who was teetering on the edge of darkness and could have become someone who lashed out at society like Jay, but instead he chose to be a protector of the people and to uphold justice (even if his methods are unconventional and morally grey).

He struggles with insecurity but it never gets in the way of what he wants to do and instead motivates him to continue to better himself for MC. There's nothing wrong with setting someone or something as your goal to get through life. Baby steps until you learn how to run on your own, or not when you find someone who will walk the road of life with you.

He's a man who loved the person who literally saved his life (and is probably his raison d'être) for 7 years, never forgot her during that time, and has finally reunited with her.

Okay, ending this post for real now with the Lunar New Year card. BTW the ENG version is totally fine and I have no qualms with its translation, but I just like the nuance more in the CN and JP version.

CN goes 你是我的此生眷恋 which is literally like "you're my affection/attachment in this life". If I wasn't separating it from the English version, I'd translate it as "love of my life" too to simplify it and make it flow. But I find it interesting that 眷恋 (juan lian; sentimental attachment) is used instead of 挚爱 (zhi ai; true love) and the way you'd actually write "love of my life" is 此生挚爱 (ci sheng zhi ai) rather than the card's 此生眷恋 (ci sheng juan lian).

JP goes おまえは俺の一生の憧れ which is literally like "you're the aspiration/longing of my life". Again, I find it so interesting that neither JP or CN are using the character for love 愛 (ai) and JP's 憧れ (akogare) bundles in feelings of yearning, longing, desire, and aspiration. IMO the JP version drives in the fact that MC is someone Bai Qi's trying to catch up to. He's loved her for so long, tries so hard to better himself, and all of it is to become a person he believes can stand by her side.

#mr love queen's choice #mlqc meta #love and producer #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #love and produc(ing) meta #mlqc

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zenosanalytic · 4 years

Text

Breaking The Wheel

A Summarized Analysis of the first three books of HoxPoX: House of X #1&2, and Powers of X #1

Ok so, I’ve been working on/thinking about this for awhile now, mostly because life just keeps interrupting and so I haven’t had the time to just sit down and finish it, but also partially cuz I’ve been struggling with the form I want to put it in. Honestly you could write multipage analyses of EACH of these books, as well as the Stuff they share and conflict over, but I’m going for something more condensed than that so that I can FINALLY move on to just reading the rest of the series! In later posts I’ll be getting into specific themes and instances of symbolism, but first I just want to get my basic observations&guesses abt the series(which everyone else has already read X|) down. So here we go:

Resurrection/Rebirth:

HoX#1 opens with the XMen emerging from some sort of plant-eggs. My guess(which is p much confirmed for me since I’ve read Excalibur #1) was that this is a resurrection. There’s a heavy cthonic tone to the whole Deal, and Xavier is visually placed in an ambiguously parental/godly role to the XMen as they emerge. Of course, in our culture resurrection and rebirth are heavily conflated and so the symbols INVOKING resurrection here --egg shapes, trees, chrysalises, golden light-- are all ALSO symbolic of fertility and rebirth and, as I love puns&multiple meanings, I absolutely think that’s important too. Beyond informing the action of the page, on a meta level this is obvsl also a powerful thesis & statement of intent for X Men, a long-running and hugely popular comic book property: a declaration of both reviving a moribund past, and the intention to do something new with it. The decision to bring back old costumes and classic art styles, and to center it on long-forgotten locations, plot points(like Krakoa itself), and typically overlooked or underwritten characters(like Moira McTaggart and Mystique’s supporting cast), absolutely suggests a dedication to this task, and the intention to accomplish it moving forward.

Cycles:

Related to this is the importance of repeating, “inescapable” Cycles to the work. HoX 1 moves from this scene of resurrection to scenes of planting and plant growth which cycle through both seasonal phases and phases of the day. HoX 1 then carries this forward by taking place over the COURSE of a single day.

PoX 1 repeats this with cycles of Time and information gathering: Mystique delivering the usb from Damage Control in (Year 10); Rasputin and Cardinal retrieving & delivering information from The Nexus in Year 100; The Librarian trying to recover information from Cylobel(a mutant bred, rebelled, then captured by the sentinels), now part of the Mutant Library, in Year 1000. This is supported subtly in the art of all three books(but made explicit in the opening scenes of PoX 1 where Moira meets Xavier) through cycles of color: Green/Teal, Gold, and Purple. The symbolic meaning of the colors are various and contextual, I’ll get more into it later, but the basic foundation seems to be Green=Naivety/Beginnings/Ambiguity, Gold=Power/Knowledge, Purple=Death/Endings/Rebirths. PoX 1 ends with Beginnings: The Librarian fondly regards an Eden-like Zoo for what remains of “pure-strain” homo sapiens, and Rasputin(a mutant freedom fighter in Year 100) delivers her information just as Mystique did in the first section after the introduction of the book.

Hox 2 continues and solidifies the pattern of cycles. It ends were PoX 1 began: with Moira and Xavier’s meeting at the fair(a mobius double helix reach around, perhaps :p). It begins with Moira’s birth and a recounting of her first, entirely human, life. It continues through the cycles of her lives and deaths as she grapples with her Groundhog Day existence(a personal struggle which parallels and microcosms the larger struggle within humanity over mutation), which in a tenuous way seems to be narratively structured around the stages of grief. First she isn’t aware&trying to understand what’s happening(denial), then out of resentment of what she has lost from her first life, she rejects mutation and tries to “cure” it(anger), then seeks coexistence, and increasingly tenuous proposition over lifetimes(bargaining), before giving up in despair and wallowing in mutually destructive conflict(depression). The color symbolism is retained: The sickbed where her resurrection powers manifest is bathed in gold light, her first human childhood surrounded by naive greens, with the death/rebirth of her 2nd life gestated in wombly fuschias, and continued with a pink-purple dress in her 2nd toddlerhood. The sentinels, the mechanical agents of death throughout her lives, are purple, as ever.

However, HoX 2 ultimately struggles against, and seeks to subvert, the cycles even as it repeats them, suggesting to me that Escape is the ultimate endpoint of the series. While HoX&PoX 1 are told from within the cycles, HoX 2 is an outside recounting of them. At least one of Moira’s lives seems to be missing, likely hidden, and the end of another is obscured in eternal war. Moira breaks the 4th wall to discuss her mutation, and it’s impact directly with the audience; literally displaying her ability and desire to break out of the cycles. Her actions within each cycle are either to carry information between them, or motivated by what she’s learned from previous ones, thereby breaking the boundaries btw them and flattening out the cycles into a single linear narrative. In fact by the time of the series, by her 10th life, ending the violent cycles of her lives and deaths(and thus, the cycles of intrahuman conflict over mutation) is Moira’s declared and explicit goal(and HoX2 presents the series as the story of Moira). Her 10th life is canonically either her last or second to last life. In the “stages of grief” model, the last stage is “acceptance”; synthesizing and integrate one’s grief and loss into a new, healthy life. Both narratively and thematically, HoX 2 positions HoXPoX as a Dune-scaled epic narrative; not as the story of a particular conflict, but as a Historical narrative; as the story of structural patterns of behavior reinforced by instinctive dispositions, repeated throughout time, and one attempt to escape them for something better.

Ambiguity:

The narrative takes the point of view, and thus also the side, of the mutants, but that isnt to say it presents the mutants as unquestionably the “good guys”, or the human-AI alliance as necessarily the “bad guys”. While the forces of ~Human Purity~ and supremacy, those rejecting the shared humanity of mutants(Orchis: a mega organization of Marvel’s secret societies&black-ops orgs), are clearly presented as fascist, both visually and narratively, supremacist talk ALSO abounds on the mutant side which, when combined with trophically sinister visual cues suggests the mutant-nationalist sepratist project contains its own dangerous contradictions(further lampshaded by setting one of the major plots of HoX 1 in Israel, thus drawing parallels btw the two). Meanwhile the AIs, who carry out the Purists’ genocidal campaign, are presented as a sort of blameless technological inevitability; aware of the wrongness of what they do, and yet unable to stop doing it due to their programming. In this way, I suspect, they are meant to act as a commentary on the mutant-non-mutant conflict itself; on the way in which humans(both mutant and non) are primed to reject each other as fully human by both instinctive impulse and cultural structures emphasizing competition-based interpretations of evolution. I suspect this is even further and more directly lampshaded in the series at two points: In HoX#1 with discussion of “the cro-magnon problem”, and in HoX#2 through Moira’s off-hand reference to this idea in her 4th life(when she first decides to give Xavier and coexistence a shot). The idea both times that other homo species were “wiped out” by competition with Homo sapiens because they SEEM to no longer exist, but this is a false conclusion. In rreality genetic studies show significant admixture of the other homo branches within the sapiens line. The reality of pre-historical hominid interaction wasn’t genocide, but synthesis. The inability to conceive of this(in other words, the inability to conceive of all homo sapiens as equally human, and mutants as a new evolutionary stage; the drive to cling to “ethnic purity”) is, I believe, the core problem the series will posit drives human&mutant conflict, which needs to be gotten past in someway. Obvsl this guess could be wrong.

Alright that’s the first post on my read through of the first 3 books. Like I said I’ll be posting more detailed analysis later.

#Marvel #HoXPoX #HoX 1 #HoX 2 #PoX 1 #X Men #Hickman et al #analytic posts

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believe-that-you-can-my-friend · 7 years

Note

Hii! Can you do a fic in the future where jughead already published his first novel and he has like some sort of conference or sth where he gets asked questions and all and somebody asks about the girls next door and he talks so sweetly about her and like Betty is in there too and all. Idk if you get it but English isn't my first language. Oh and I love your writing btw you are really talented

#GirlNextDoor

*insert here Titanic’s “It’s been 84 years” gif* Yes, it’s a prompt!! I finally uploaded one! Easter holidays are totally messing my writing scedule and I’m so terribly sorry for that. But I’m back in the game and I promise I’ll be my usual bughead obsessed self from now on! So, I’ve finished this just before the episode aired yesterday (I was just so tired to go over it and post it after the episode ended, I’m sorry) and I’m very pleased a lot of things that I wrote became canon. I had so much fun writing this because I’m a sucker for future fics and because that’s pure fluff and a huge, much needed dose of happiness to Jughead’s life! Also I changed the request a little, I wrote this as a TV interview just to make it more grande for Juggie, I hope you don’t mind, nonnie! Thank you for requesting and for your lovely words!!!

Betty could literally feelherself bouncing on her heels with nervous excitement, the velvet material ofher blush colored pumps getting scratchy as they rubbed up against each otherbut, truly, right now, she didn’t give a damn about her potentially ruined shoes.She could only focus on the red digital numbers changing sequentially over the silverdoors of the semi-packed elevator she was in, biting her lip nervously andcounting mentally in her mind as if that way, somehow, the numbers would runfaster and the silver cage would miraculously arrive on her floor in ananosecond.

7,8, 9, 10…Ding! Betty had never felt before a bigger wave of euphoria at the sight ofthe wooden door with the silver 10B at the end of the corridor and shemaneuvered herself around a happy family of four and a middle-aged businessmanbefore pumping shoulders with Mrs. Pomphrey from the twelfth floor, causing thealways preppy and posh looking older woman to raise an exasperated eyebrow ather unusual unmannered behavior. Betty managed to send her most sweet and goodgirl smile over her shoulder, wanting to maintain her pure, naïve façadetowards their landlord, and she saw the woman shaking her head disapprovinglybut finally turning a tad lenient, regarding the young of Betty’s age, justseconds before her wrinkly and full of make-up face disappeared behind the doorsof the elevator. “The mammoth DaisyBuchanan”, Jughead’s nickname for the woman in his usual snarky tone ofvoice came to her mind and Betty burst into silent laughter as she ran down thecorridor and jiggled her keys, unlocking the apartment door in a swift motionbefore closing it with force behind her, quick fingers already tugging at thelapels of her beige, ruched sleeved, loose fit blazer.

Her Cambridge blue bag droppedto the hardware floor with a loud thud, the cotton tote bag on her shoulder filledwith documents and paperwork followed after and her bare knees under her darkgreen skirt collided with the corner of a big carton box that laid there nextto a minimal set of drawers, making her hiss in pain as she twirledungraciously to throw her blazer in the coat closet by the door in a hurry. Ithad been nearly two months now that they had moved from New York to Boston,Betty scoring an amazing opportunity for an internship at The Boston Globe a year after they hadgraduated NYU that left her ecstatic and Jughead the proudest man alive, butstill they weren’t quite settled in, similar beige boxes filled with books orutensils or other random household necessities, laying around in pretty muchevery room of their new and cozy apartment, a wonderful change of pace fromtheir old and smelly hole that it was their first apartment in New York.

Hugging her laptop bag againsther chest, Betty literally slid down the small hallway until she reached thejoined spacious living room and kitchen, unhooking the ankle strap of her leftheel and groaning in despair as she simultaneously jumped on her other foottowards the grey couch, dropping her laptop carelessly and snatching violentlythe remote control from between the fluffy pillows, pressing some keys untilshe reached the channel she wanted. Seeing that commercials were still on, theblonde girl let a loud sigh of relief.

Today was a big day for them;today her long-time boyfriend and lifetime soulmate, Jughead Jones, or mostly commonlyknown to the public, J. Jones, was going to give his very first big interviewon TV.

Perfectly timed with his highschool graduation, Jughead had drew an end to the chapter of their lives thatwere titled Riverdale and Jason’s Blossom murder, effectively putting the lastfull stop of his first novel right before taking off to college. Despite thefact that he and Betty had reached the end of the labyrinth by the end ofsophomore year – their dedication and sharp minds coordinated with theirpassion about finding the truth and wicked love about the detective film noiressence of the subject brought them first face to face with the real killer –there was still a veil of chained mysteries and ploys that surrounded theirsmall town and needed to be solved first before the day the vicious murderwould be held accustomed for his crimes, shocking the small community ofRiverdale and changing it forever.

Jughead had printed it out, asingle copy only and with no title, bound it and gave it to Betty to read thenight of graduation, after the loud and carefree party of their graduated classat Sweetwater river and after their personal after party in his room at thesmall house he and his, back on track, dad were renting at the time. Betty hadbeen ecstatic, glowing even more as she lay next to him wrapped in the greysheets of his twin-sized bed, finally able to get her hands on what she was surewas marvelous work. “It’s yours” he had said in a whisper against her temple,crashing her inside his embrace, bare back against bare chest and coaxed inpassion blamed sweat “I’m not gonna publish it; I just want you to have it.”

Betty had turned to send himan incredulous look over her shoulder, the thick stash of papers that held hisyears-long work slipping from her fingers to rest on the small spot on the bedtheir tangled up bodies didn’t occupy. She had been utterly confused, he believedin that novel and always considered it his breakthrough work, his one-wayticket out of the impurity that stained their hometown and his free pass to prosperity.Jughead, though, had a good reason to contradict.

This was their story. Yes, thecontent of the book was mainly a mystery, a Hitchcock-like narrative of abrutal murder, of a kid’s murder, that shook a small town with every secretthat was being unraveled like a domino effect after that dreadful night on July11th. But under the misery and the lies and the deceit and thehorror, the story at its core was a love story. At first glance, an expressionof appreciation and devotion towards beauty and purity at the form of a longforgotten Riverdale, underneath which the true subject of the author’sinfatuation laid; the aerie presence of the girl next door, the one and only, BettyCooper.

He didn’t want for the wholeworld to know, he didn’t care. He was more than content with him and herknowing, with them keeping his first work of words their sacred secret andtheir personal relationship chronicle. It didn’t feel right by him to put outin the world something so personal, to strip bare for just five-minutes of fameand a probably small paycheck. His desire had been to keep it away fromjudgement, scrutiny or misinterpretation, adamant to put on sale a part of hissoul and knowing that the true meaning behind his eloquent words would betwisted and ultimately lost. The whole book was his adolescence, hers, theirfriends’, and, on top of that, his own coming of age story as a writer and as aman, and the thing he dreaded the most was for his blonde muse to be desecratedor lessened into something filthy and sexualized for the sake of publication.

Betty had felt flattered andmore in love with him than ever. They had made love again that night over andover again, slow and tender this time, and with hushed words of devotiontrembling against their gasping lips. The next day they had taken off to NewYork, Betty riding shotgun on an old black Buick Riviera – FP’s graduation giftto his son – packed to the hilt with carton boxes and suitcases, and having hernose buried in the book of the love of her life, drinking the words hungrilyand reliving every little step along the way that had brought them there, roadtripping their way to college with rolled down windows and his hand layingaffectionately on her bare thigh, petal pink skirt brushing his knuckles withevery blow of the morning wind. She had reached the end of the magniloquentbook by the same night, with tears in her eyes and a swelling heart, declaringhow beautiful it was and how terribly in love she was with him over and overagain as they made love under the stars.

Years kept passing, collegewas keeping them busy and Jughead’s mind had been working overdrive,brainstorming new ideas and getting excited and engulfed in his desire to writethem on paper. Two more small novels had been written by his miraculous mind duringtheir college years and with Betty’s encouragement to finally let other peopleenjoy his outstanding work - her words not his - Jughead had taken the big stepand sent his work to publishers. However, it seemed that their opinion didn’tquite align with Betty’s. No phones had ever rung, no one had come knocking ontheir door searching for the mysterious and impeccably talented J. Jones. Jugheadhad felt sixteen and not enough once again.

One particular night, whenBetty had woken up and found him for the fifth night in a row awake and at thesmall worn-out desk that they called their office area, head buried inside hishands in despair and what seemed like his fourth cigarette for the nightbetween his fingers, its smoke escaping in a peaceful line from the open rustywindow and getting mingled with the Chinese food smell from the restaurant nextto their cheap but anachronistic apartment building, she patted back insidetheir tiny bedroom and unburied the solemn copy of his beloved first novel fromher nightstand drawer, where she kept it as something as important as her ownheart. Coming back to him, she rubbed his back affectionately, Jughead’s chestreleasing a big sigh as on reflex to her soothing touch and offering her a sad,tired smile upon tilting his head slightly to face her, Betty pecking lovinglyhis temple and then the prominent bag under his left eye. She had laid thenovel in front of him, Jughead looking intensely at his first page as she spoke,plain and white, with just his and her name in dedication. “This is your voice,Juggie.” She had whispered sweetly through the darkness “Don’t worry. Peoplewill love it for the right reasons; you and your words make sure of that.” Andwith a nudge of her cheek to the side of his forehead she was gone, leaving himagain alone with his thoughts.

Jughead had stayed up allnight, contemplating and huffing. And near the crack of dawn he did it; he typedthe first title that came to mind, TheScarlet River, and spent the next hours changing each and every name,putting familiar sounding ones for authenticity but keeping their trueidentities hidden. He had mailed his finished work to only two publishinghouses, the ones he thought were more respectful to the author’s work in hisopinion, and went to bed, enveloping a sleeping Betty in his arms and prayingthat he had made the right choice. A week later, both companies had showedtheir interest in publishing his work.

It was a rollercoaster afterthat. Jughead wanted to choose the deal that would offer him the most creativefreedom, both companies practically bending backwards and promising him thestars and the moon to have such a brilliant and intelligent young artist intheir publishing family, but he wasn’t really interested in the paycheck. Hisonly condition before giving his consent had been no third party editing hiswork whatsoever and he got it. So he shook hands with a smiley middle aged man andthe printing began, the book with the minimalistic black cover illuminated by arunning red river at the center and his name at the very top of the glossy hardpaper hitting the bookstores just a few days after his and Betty’s collegegraduation. And to his amazement and Betty’s delight that she was right allalong, people actually had gone crazy for the first novel of the mysterious J.Jones.

Hordes of people from all ageswere queueing in bookstores and shopping malls to gain a copy, bloggers weretalking about it on the internet, magazines were featuring this newbreakthrough mystery novel in their must-read lists. Betty had startedcollecting every newspaper snippet that mentioned her boyfriend’s name orquality work, bookmarking every site and every online article that praised hiscaptivating writing skills and sharing the results of her daily research withJughead, loving seeing his boyish wide smile being reborn again on his lips andlighting his whole face after months of him being in a dead end author andcharacter wise. There were Instagram posts from people reading all over the country, the cover of the book being photographed on kitchen countertops nextto someone’s breakfast or amongst bedsheets before midnight, inside travelbags, next to business calendars, on floral teenage bedrooms or emo lookingones, even being featured in plenty variations of the most common millennialpicture, the one depicting the view of a beautiful beach and a book against theslender legs of a sunbathing girl, that book being J. Jones’ spectacular novel.That made even Archie admit that his best friend was starting to get famousafter all. People were starting to reach out on him, following him on his upuntil then low-key Twitter and Instagram accounts, asking questions about hiswork, demanding more, wanting to know if the story was real or a well-mapped fictionidea out of a very talented writer’s head. Betty and Jughead would go on withtheir everyday lives normally, go to work every morning on their part-timejobs, run errands, go out on dates but now they would come across people beingengrossed in Jughead’s book everywhere, on the subway or the grocery store, atcoffee shops, at restaurants, on a park bench, both of them feeling a swell ofpride each and every time.

Jughead had refused to do anybook tours or press conferences, even though the publishers and his manager –yeah he had one of those now – had all been a huge pain in the ass and wereconsistently insisting in him doing so for the sake of his income. He wasadamant again; he was perfectly content with how things had turned out to be.People was loving his work, he was being recognized for his talent and he hadnow more than enough money in his pockets and his bank account to offer thewoman of his dreams the best life she deserved; he wasn’t interested in anyempty popularity façade. To keep his deal with the publishing house though hehad to agree to some terms of marketing, even though he completely despised theidea. Betty and her overall brilliant mind had been once again his savior, her comingup with an innovational concept that had the publishers rubbing their hands indelight and Jughead loving her even more, and that was humanly impossible. Aninteractive site had been launched where the author in question started postingthoughts and information about his work, answering questions to readers fromall over the world, discussing theories with them – something that made himsmile like a five year old and type way in excitement – and even doing somelive shows once in a while to interact with his fans more. Sales had skyrocketedafter that, the book was being printed over and over again, people were talkingabout it amongst friendly gatherings, over drinks after work, even dedicatingthought and time on the internet to interpret each and every of his words,discuss either bizarre or well-thought theories and just go ballistic over andover again about the edgy and vague ending, intrigued to extremes to find outmore.

By the end of the year, The Scarlet River had ranked first onthe New York Times’ annual list of bestselling novels. It had been the firsttime that Betty saw Jughead cry from joy, fingers and voice trembling whilereading to her the small paragraph of criticism under the bold title of hisbook, words like “innovational” or “outstanding” or “deliciouslynerve-wracking” standing out amongst other praising compliments. She had jumpedon him with utter excitement and joy, legs wrapped around his waist and armscradling his neck in a tight embrace to show him even more how proud she wasfor him, his face buried in the crook of her neck, thanking her over and overagain for being patient with him and, most importantly, believing in him.

And now they were here; himready to take on the world with his gorgeous, tortured artist looks and hissharp mind and her biting anxiously on her lower lip as she waited in front ofher screen in nervous excitement, feeling her heart beating rapidly just likehis was beating too, many miles away from her. Betty hated herself and stillkept beating herself up for not being able to accompany him to one of the mostimportant moments of his career. She had been there getting hyped and excitedwhen the first copies of his book were delivered, she had been therecelebrating with him every time it got picked for another round of printing,she had been there smiling encouragingly at his first conference with bookcritics and she had been there when his phone rang and a polite assistant fromLarry King Now asked when his hectic schedule would allow him to give them thepleasure of an interview, both hers and Jughead’s jaw dropping to the floor. Butthis time she couldn’t be there. Her internship was demanding and with herbeing a newbie the chances of taking a day off were zero to none, even thoughshe begged and pleaded for an exception just for this particular case. Jugheadwas bummed too but totally understanding as always, although Betty knew hedreaded the fact that he would have to face the unknown alone. So that morningBetty woke him up with breakfast in bed and kisses, styled his hair perfectlyand drove him to the airport despite his objections, dragging him to a bathroomstall just minutes before he needed to be at the check-out line and giving himan intense and full on sultry blowjob, a well-thought plan of hers to ease hismind and offer him the male ego and confidence boost he needed. A pleased anddisbelieving at his luck, awestruck smile never left Jughead’s lips up until helanded in New York.

The business-like chime of herphone cut her reverie short and she rushed to answer with flushed cheeksand a wide grin, seeing the lovely picture of Jughead bare-chested on their bedand smiling sleepily popping on her rose gold iPhone screen.

“My hands are trembling.” Thesardonic voice of her boyfriend came right through when she swiped left toanswer, apathetic as always but with anxiety creeping behind his well-builtarmor, not bothering with a sweet greeting but jumping straight to the point.“My throat feels dry and I keep chugging bottle of water after bottle water andI really think that I’ll get the urge to pee exactly when the interview starts.And I’m sweating, all the way through my jacket. I didn’t even know I couldsweat this much. Plus, what’s with those lights, why are there so many? And I’mhooked with microphones and—” he rambled in a nervous rampage before hersoothing voice interfered.

“Juggie, breathe.” Bettyoffered with a faint giggle, pouting at how cute he was against her phone.

An audible deep exhale filledthe silence before he continued a tad calmer this time. “I’m gonna screw thisup. Please say you’ll still love me when I screw this up and go back to being yourdaily dose of sarcasm in the form of a boyfriend.” He pleaded in asemi-teasing, semi-serious voice drawing another giggle from her lips.

“Um, I don’t know, Jay Jonespushes some of my right buttons. He is such a turn on.” She teased him, fakinginnocence, getting a small amused scoffed in return. She smiled at her littleachievement.

“Great. Even my alter ego ismore suave than me.” He retorted like the definition of a drama queen.

Betty shook her head to no onebut herself. “You’re such a dork and I love you for that.” She let him knowcheerfully, envisioning his rolling eyes and the sideways smirk she was sure hewas definitely sporting right now at her loving teasing. “You are going to dogreat! We’ve done so much prepping!” Once the day of the interview wasapproaching and Jughead was starting to become a mess of nerves and sweatypalms, Betty had had enough. So she conducted a list of possible questions, gavethem to him to answer in the best way he could express himself, bywriting, and then urged him to memorize those answers. They would spend everynight after that going over the questions again and again, Betty sitting ontheir mahogany dinner table pretending to be the interviewer and him acrossher, pacing up and down while he tried to remember the words that best expressed his mind.

“Well, Betts, it’s a tad moreintimidating when you have Larry King in flesh asking the questions.” Heblurted his clever response hearing her sharp intake of breath from the otherend of the line.

“Thank you, Juggie, forranking my sex appeal oozing intimidation under the one of an eighty three year old man.” She grimaced in amusement and shock, Jughead flinching to himself toobecause, who was he kidding, Betty Cooper intimidated and intrigued him to noends and that’s why he always ended up chocking or pushing her on the nearestsurface with mad desire every night she sat across him, playing the part of theinterviewer and challenging him with those piercing green eyes.

“So you talked to him? How ishe in person?” Betty’s whole tone changed as curiosity kicked in, wanting to know more about the well-known TV and radio host.

“Old.” Jughead threw hissardonic one-liner, the blonde huffing a tad in exasperation but smirkingnonetheless. “We just met and talked for a bit. He seems cool, interested andinteresting enough for us to have a discussion of shorts. And apparently hethinks I’m a real deal? Betts, can you believe?” he gasped like a five year old in a candy store.

“That’s huge, babe!” Betty urged his excitement on. “See?There’s no need for you to worry, just go in there and kill us all with youreloquence and your charm.” She encouraged him in her usual sweet and soothingtone of voice.

Jughead exhaled again with agroan, fidgeting with the lapels of his jacket in an attempt to fix it over hisshoulders. “I just hope that question number twenty six will not be asked.” Hemused, arm dropping to his side in frustration that even his attire was givinghim a hard time today.

“What’s your inspirationbehind the conception of the girl next door and why do you think people rootfor her this much?” Betty recited the question under that number in aheartbeat, even herself having memorized the list and his possible answers. “OhI hope question number twenty six willbe asked.” She colored her sentence with enough girly delight, biting her lowerlip at the image of him getting all flushed and terribly cute while worshipingher in front of the world.

“So you and the whole countrycan watch me drown in my own spit and die of embarrassment on live television?”Jughead’s voice went an octave higher at the more than possible scenario ofappearing like a complete freak show. “You know what? I’ll just go, I’ll flee,yes, that’s what I’m going to do.” He shrugged and his nervous outrage startedagain, anxiety coiling low in his stomach and making him actually want tovomit, even though he had spent the whole day famished and consuming only adozen cups of black coffee, something that spoke volumes for someone thatcouldn’t spend a day without gobbling at least five full meals.

“Jughead—” Betty tried tointerfere but it was a lost battle.

“Oh crap, they saw me lurking.”He murmured in alarm. “They are calling me over. Shit, shit, shit what do I do? Lie about having a fatal illness thatneeds immediate assistance? Pretend I’m having a stroke?” he was in full onpanic mode now, trying to give his overly sweaty self some much needed air byswaying vigorously the front of his button-up, desperately trying to fanhimself. “I think that I am actually having a stroke to be honest.”

Betty scoffed at his anticsfor exaggeration. “Stop! Just go!” she urged in a high pitched whine. “Everything’sgonna be fine, if you walk in there like the determined and over-achieving manyou are. I’ve seen you thrive in way worse; you’ve got this, Jug, you trulydo.” She offered her small pep-talk wholeheartedly, absolutely believing thathe could pull off anything he set his mind to.

“Alright.” He sighed deep butthis time it was with pure determination. “Here I go, wish me luck. And pleasechannel some of your inner sunshine and badassery vibes my way; it would bevery much appreciated.” He pleaded for her aid in a joking manner but stillserious enough, knowing that with her backing him up, even in spirit, he couldbe the strongest man alive.

Betty’s melodic laugh was atrue oasis at his time of need. “I will.” She promised before continuing in afoxier, more Betty Cooper in the sheets voice. “And if, at any point, you feellike your confidence is crumbling down think about me.” The girl suggested,before causing her voice to drop a sensual octave down. “Naked.” The adjective was colored with all the necessary unspokeninnuendos and Betty bit her lip, failing to hold back her beaming smile at theadrenaline filled state she surely got him in at this exact moment.

Jughead couldn’t hold back hisown sly smirk. “You’re not helping at all with the situation, Betts.” He warnedher in a whisper, voice husky and suggestive just how she liked, as he took a seat atthe chair an assistant pointed him to, before the man proceeded in doing a last minute check on hismicrophone.

“Oh, I think I was definitelyhelping with the situation this morning at the men’s bathroom of the airport.”Jughead’s mind got bombarded with the dirty images of Betty in a compromisingposition looking up at him while sending him flying to the sky, and he felt hisbody heat increasing in an instant, smiling awkwardly at a young woman thatfilled a mug with mineral water on the table in front of him and adjustinghimself on the comfy chair, praying to find just a small ounce of strength todefeat his raging male urges.

Thankfully, the girl thattormented his body and soul went back to her sweet, ultimately kind-heartedpersona, giving him a chance to breathe. “It’s your time to shine Juggie. Theworld doesn’t stand a chance, just like I didn’t.” her words, depicting herlove-sick smile on her lips, brought a big grin on Jughead’s face who ducked hishead in vulnerability and utter love at the thought of her believing in him. “Ilove you.” She told him the only thing he actually needed to hear in order topuff his chest with courage.

“I love you too. I’ll callyou when this sorcery is over.” He promised and sent her that boyish smile she hadlabeled as her favorite, even though she couldn’t actually see him, before reluctantlyending their short call.

Minutes after Betty hadabandoned her phone on the coffee table in front of her and curled her legsunder her on the sofa, getting more comfortable, the characteristic intro ofLarry King’s talk show filled the silence of the living room, making herstraighten her back and glue her round excited eyes on the TV.

“Welcome to Larry King Now.”The elder interviewer addressed straight to the camera as he opened the show. “Ourspecial guest is Jay Jones,” the camera panned to Jughead across him, whooffered a timid boyish smile to the audience before turning serious, the focuscontinuing to be on him as Larry King’s voice went on “writer of thebestselling novel, The Scarlet River,a post-modern murder mystery that raised quite the frenzy from the very firstmonths of its publication. After nearly a year now, the book that came to upsetthe tedious waters of 21st century’s detective fiction has sold overfour million copies through Amazon and Barnes & Noble, is featured on thebest books list of American Library Association and The New York Times and isnominated for an Edgar Allan Poe Award for Best First Novel.” He finishedlisting Jughead’s accomplishments and turned to the man in question with a warmsmile.

“Now, I’ve met a lot of youngwriters in my life but never came face to face with somebody that achieved allthat in such small amount of time. Is it overwhelming?” The first question wasfired.

“If I claimed that it wasn’t Iwould be lying and the dormant principal in my life is honesty and transparency.”Jughead started and Betty was immediately sold at the way his voice sounded sogravely, at his surprising in-charge posture, at how illegally handsome helooked in the blue button-up and beige jacket she had picked for him to wear onhis big day. Not to mention his raven locks that were still styled the way she had attempted this morning but a tad disheveled, certaintly because of his fingers running over them nervously, creating a messy, sophisticated look that made him look unbelievably irresistible. “It truly is astounding how people responded to my very firstwork, the blowup and the paroxysm of it all, in the good sense of the word,still blows my mind up to this date. The pace is definitely a Lamborghiniappropriate one and I’m an old rusty Buick in regards to adjusting to out of mycomfort zone situations but I’m eternally grateful to everyone that came along tothis new adventurous ride with me.” He huffed awkwardly and his lips formed anadorable nerdy smile of true happiness and Betty couldn’t help but aw at theway he was acting so charmingly sweet, her heart thudding violently in herchest at the sight. He was still nervous, she could tell, but he was masking itperfectly and gradually getting more unwound.

“For anyone that’s been livingunder a rock, care to sum up the story for us?” Alright, basic question, Jug isgood, Betty thought with a nod.

“Yeah, yeah, of course…” hepaused for a minute, shifting on his seat. “Um, the narrative begins with themurder of a seventeen year old boy, James Blake, on July 11th, spreadinga dark veil of sorrow and turmoil over the small town of Riverdale. A maypoleof lies and deceit is being weaved around the up until then lawful residents ofthe frozen in a bygone era close-knit town, its innocence and purity longbefore lost. At a mist of it all, four high school students take it uponthemselves to unwind Ariadne’s red ball of threat down the end of thelabyrinth, on the way getting face to face with their own inner demons andbringing to light their well-hidden skeletons in the closet. They seek justiceand at the end of the day they are capable of doing anything to put an end to thisvery vicious cat and mouse game.” Jughead offered the synopsis of the bookperfectly, resting back on his chair in waiting.

“You say high school kids.”Jughead nodded in affirmation. “But this book is anything but solemnly focusedon teen audiences. What do you think makes it so popular and especially in awide range of people demographically?”

A snarky smile found its wayto the author’s lips, as he watched his fingers drum on the table. “I’massuming you’re asking me how an adult-aimed book, bare of any sexual tones,survived and, not to sound boastful, succeeded in a lewd defined world. Well,yes, sex sells but gore sells better.” He replied cleverly, the elder manchuckling faintly at the response which brought a smile to Betty’s lips too.Jughead was starting to win the room and that was very pleasing to watch.

“To be truly honest with you,I believe that the key was authenticity.” The raven haired boy turned seriousto elaborate his answer more. “The innocence of a classic film noir portrayedin a modern world and being put into words, the nostalgic essence, the maturityand rawness of the characters’ feelings and actions that anyone can reflect on,despite age or sex or color or sexual orientation. It’s the Scooby Gang, as Ilike to call it,” he smirked at the inner joke “but in a total alternative,wicked universe; it’s gruesome, it’s horror, it’s mystery, it’s a trip frominnocence to reality, from childish mentality to adulthood. It’s realistic interms of people’s growth, truthful, and people nowadays need true feelings intheir lives more than ever.”

“You talked about authenticityand that opens a window for me to drop the million dollar question; how much ofthis is fiction?” the interviewer went on. “Are there any true events at all ortruthfulness just applies in regards to staying true to human nature and itsantics in a hypothetical incident of a public-shocking crime?” Betty flinchedin coordination with Jughead’s sigh on the screen. That was the most frequentlyasked question about his book and the question he always hated to face, in fearof revealing parts of their lives that weren’t mend for the public’s eye.

“Oh, the million dollarquestion indeed.” Luckily, he had managed to compose himself quickly and brushit off with an aloof and polite grin. “I have a fear that I’ll spoil the magicif I do give an answer to that or probably get fired” he chuckled lightly andBetty scoffed a laugh “but I think people’s speculations are reaching extremes bynow so here goes nothing. The story is indeed fictional to its biggest part.”He didn’t want to lie to the people; that was never his intention. He justwanted to protect the most vulnerable parts of their adolescence.

“But Riverdale exists, it’syour hometown, and there was indeed a murder of a young boy there.” Larrypushed him further.

“Yes, that is true, along withother bits and pieces of the plot.” Jughead nodded and licked his lipstentatively before continuing. “But is it really realistic that four sixteenyear olds were involved in the most bizarre and otherworldly situations?” Hescoffed in a perfect act of disbelief, the girl watching him rolling her smileyeyes at his theatrics. “Or that Rebecca and Bughead, or Becca and Bug as theirfriends call them throughout the novel, our very own Sherlock-Watsonsleuthering duo, solved a bewildering homicide case with the aid of just theirsharp minds and a couple of cheeky adolescent kisses here and there?” Bettygasped in shocked amusement, not really believing that Jughead shared some oftheir chronic banter regarding the beginning of their relationship with the world. “I’m not even gonna mention our very ownLolita reincarnation, Alfie Akers,” that caused Betty and Larry to laugh loudly “orthe bad girl gone good, the classic riches to rugs heroine, Victoria Lewis.Every character carries a big, fat cliché on their shoulders and I think thisspeaks volumes about whether or not the story is reality or fiction after all.”He put a delicate but firm full stop on the subject, wrapping it up the bestway he could and hoping that he was persuasive enough.

The man’s agreeing nod fromacross him was all he needed to relax. “Fair enough point.” He admitted,checking something on the papers in front of him. “Now Bughead; that is a nameI’ve never stumbled upon in my life. How come you chose such an unconventionaland borderline comical name for the narrator of your story and the character thatseems to go through the most emotional turmoil?” Betty smiled pleased toherself; that was one of the very first questions she had typed down on herpersonal list, because she knew the name sounded obscure and out of place andeveryone wanted to know what the heck had inspired the writer to give hisprotagonist a name like that.

“Because he is unconventional.”He replied without missing heartbeat. “And he is a bug, he bugs people; atfirst with his dark parade appearance and dry humor and later on with hissnooping around and asking all the uncomfortable questions in thirst for thetruth. The guy is a nuisance; that was the most fitting name I ever came upwith.” The idea was actually Kevin’s, since the boy was obsessed with callinghim and Betty like that, and even though the ship name sounded weird in Jughead’s ears it was indeed fitting forthe character in his book that annoyed people and was consumed whole by Betty Cooper.

“Readers don’t see it likethat though. Bughead appears to be the most beloved character of them all.” the host contradicted.

“And I’m very happy about this.He does have a special place in my heart.” Jughead’s smile was genuine, wishingfor his younger self to have been able to see him and how his life had turned out now.

“So what happens to him at theend, then? This is me asking as a big fan here! The book ends with him sayingthat there were three people in that booth. Was he there all along? Wasn’t he? Washe just a product of somebody’s imagination, an empty phantom?” Larry voicedthe confusion of the whole fandom.

“Well, first of all I’mhonored, truly.” There was the boyish smile again and there was Betty’sfluttering heart once again, as Jughead leaned forward resting his elbows onthe table and smirking intrigued. “But now you have to go for it; humor me,what’s your theory?” he challenged, always enjoying hearing each interpretationof his ambiguous book finale.

“I finished the book with theimpression that he was there, that he indeed lived the story from up close. Theend of his narration is just him being objective, a true observer like healways was, and overly protective of his experiences and the ones of hisfriends, sharing a story but not oversharing because of his morality and hisown personal ethics as an author.” The older man had managed to read behind thelines and his spot on theory had Betty biting on her lip nervously andfrowning, expecting Jughead to not be able to hold his calm this time.

However, his control neverfazed. Instead, he even looked amused. “Wow, never heard of that one before.Most people think that the whole story is just a man’s reverie on his deathbedor the wishful thinking of some lonely and borderline mentally unstable vagrantthat wants to be accepted and a part of a community, of a family.” He went onincredulously, holding back the urge to roll his pretty blue eyes. “I’m sorrybut I’m gonna stay true to my character and not proceed to any revelations thathe wouldn’t want me to share.” Laconic and intimidating, Jughead drew a line in the cleverestway possible, causing Betty to grimace in appreciation.

Larry King smiled. “What aboutBecca, the girl next door? She’s the most loved character amongst the hordes ofyour fans. What’s the magic recipe behind creating such a fan-favoritecharacter?”

Question number twenty six.Here we go, Betty thought in delight that she was correct yet again, butactually fighting with the urge to bite on her nails anxiously at the state ofuneasiness Jughead was at the moment. He cleared his throat, trying toprioritize his thoughts despite the fact that with just a small mention ofBetty Cooper every logical order got thrown out of the window. Betty opened hermouth to recite along with him the scripted answer he had for this question buthe yet again surprised her.

“You said it yourself, it’s magic.” Jughead colored the worldwith a disbelieving huff and a head over heels smile. “Honestly, when I thinkabout Becca Cupper this is what comes to mind; imperfection at its finest.”Gasping, Betty fisted the front of her blouse at the sound of the words and theanticipation for more. “She is this strong, wonderful young woman and she isimperfectly perfect. But that’s the beauty of her whole magnetic character. Sheis a field of sunflowers and a sky of thunderstorms at the same time, a forceof nature that can mesmerize you and intimidate you in equal amounts. Nobodywould survive without her, nobody wants to survive without her. She is theepitome of kindness, forgiveness, strength, compassion, feminism, acceptance,but most of all she is the epitome of love. A purified love, a love that isunconditional and irrevocable. And no one can do anything but love her,unconditionally and irrevocably.” Jughead finished his perfect speech,momentarily darting his shy eyes to the camera to address her fully, Bettybeing at the verge of tears at his incredible words but most of all at his over-allincredible character. Betty was lucky; she knew that much from the first timeshe caught him looking at her from the doorway of Pop’s.

“By how you’re worshippingyour heroine, I assume this is Jay Jones’ dream woman too?” the interviewersmiled lovingly. “Or maybe she is not a dream after all and maybe you do haveyour very own girl next door in your life…?”

“Well, maybe I do.” He droppedhis head in modesty, still not believing how the heck he had got so lucky withher. “One that makes even my wildest dreams, a reality.” His smile washonest, genuine and warm and his eyes held that head over heels gaze that madeBetty weak in the knees in an instant.

“Isn’t that thetrue importance of it all?” the older man wondered out loud, sharing a smilewith Jughead before he turned to address the audience once again. “We’ll discussmore with Jay regarding writing inspiration and the industry of publishingright after this.” The show’s theme tune burst out of the speakers signalizingthe start of another round of commercials and Betty dropped back on the couch,looking at the ceiling and smiling like an idiot. His original answer, the onethey kept rehearsing over and over again, was cute and still flattering butthis was something else, a spontaneous act of love and a shot right through theheart that left her giggly, utterly in love and sixteen once again.

Apparently peoplethought Jay Jones’ love declaration was something right out of the pages of themost romantic book ever written too because the #GirlNextDoor was trending for thewhole night.

Jughead came home to a darkand silent apartment as he let the door close behind him with a soft click andhis keys rattle inside the silver décor bawl they kept keys and otherlast-minute things in on top of the set of drawers by the door. Abandoning hismessenger bag next to it and kicking his oxford shoes off recklessly, he shreddedhis beige jacket off his shoulders while sock covered feet brought him lazilyto the living room, blue eyes adorably heaving with fatigue but still alertenough to go on a hunting mission for his blonde angel. The frown lines on hisforehead, him being slightly confused by the radio silence that greeted him andnot her warm embrace and loving words, immediately softened once he spotted heron the couch, deliciously sprawled on the puffy pillows in an old, brownJurassic Park t-shirt of his and just a pair of cheeky, lacey Eton bluepanties, a long leg in delightful display as it lay lightly hitched and overher other wool blanket covered one. Eyelashes resting on rosy cheeks and pinkvoluminous lips parted in a cute little pout, she was dreaming away peacefully,hand still armed with the TV remote control as faint sounds of his voice couldbe heard from the flat screen across her, his previous interview being playedover and over again for her to enjoy. Jughead couldn’t help by smile, thatcontent, lovesick smile he reserved exclusively for Betty Cooper, at heradorably disheveled state but mostly at the swelling feeling of happiness thatemerged in his chest at the thought that she was proud of him, she loved himand she would be always there to wait for him to come home.

Dropping his jacket to one oftheir vintage armchairs, he quietly sat next to her on the couch and let thepads of his fingers feather-lightly brush against her cheekbone in affection,brushing away some threads of hair that fell rebelliously from her messy bunatop her head. His smile became wider once she scrunched her nose prettily andstirred awake, disorientated green eyes turning alert and alit upon spottinghim all sweet and terribly handsome in the dark.

“You’re back.” She cooedsweetly and with the most delighted smile, fisting the material of his bluebutton-up a little over his elbows, coaxing him to lean forward and rest hischest against hers.

“I told you I wasn’t stayingin New York without you.” He was adamant to stay the night at a hotel and takea plane back to Boston early in the morning; his place was at home and home waswhere Betty lay. She smiled pleased and in love, caressing up his biceps forher arms to curl behind his neck, holding him captured in her embrace.

“Ronnie is mad at you. Shewanted to relive crazy college nights with you tonight.” The girl in his armsteased with a humorous grin. The three of them together had spent their collegeyears in New York and the Lodge heiress was starting to miss them terribly nowthat the couple was mapping up their life in Boston. So during an hours-long skypecall that the two young women had after the interview was over, the brunettecity girl was very vocal about her comic irritation at the disrespect ofJughead Jones turning her and her excellent night out planning skills down again,after congratulating Betty for her amazing hubby,as Veronica kept calling him all those years.

“Yeah, I know, I gathered thatmuch from the phone call she paid me the minute I landed in New York.” Jugheadretorted in his usual deadpanned manor, making her giggle faintly. “Firstly,you were the one satisfying her city girl antics for a good clubbing night backthen, never me, and secondly, sorry, I’m still sane enough to know better thanfollow Veronica Lodge into a night trip in the city of sin.” He scoffed like hewas offended. Yes, the two of them had grown closer through the years and heconsidered her one of his closest friends now but still her type ofentertainment wasn’t his cup of tea.

Betty shook her head inamusement. “She loved you in that interview though; said, and I quote, that youkicked some serious butt. Archie and Kevin think so too.” She kept running herfingers through his hair as she spoke, loving how he relaxed and destressedunder her touch, and loving more the messy hair look he had created over thecourse of the day. His waves weren’t anymore styled as she had done thismorning and that made him even more irresistible in her eyes.

“Saw their texts when I got ina taxi here.” The two boys had texted him a hurricane of kind and supportivewords at how incredible he had been in his maiden appearance on screen thatactually left Jughead smiling besides himself, especially at Archie’saffection-oozing message and the words ‘brother’ and ‘proud’ he read amongst his flattering others. “Ican’t believe everyone actually tuned in to watch.” He raised his eyebrowsincredulously, clearly surprised, because as he kept joking on and on the weeksprior to the show he truly did believe that the ratings of tonight’s broadcastwould be the lowest of the season, if not of the entire history of television.

“You have devoted stans now,mister, you better get used to it.” She tilted her chin up proudly, tapping hischin in fake warning. “There was also a gathering of equally hyped stans inRiverdale, did you know about that?” Seeing him shaking his head no andscoffing a laugh in disbelief, Betty went on. “Yeah, apparently there was thisbig audience watching at my mom’s; your dad was there, Fred and Hermione,Polly. Even Jason and Lizzie stayed up passed their bedtime to watch cool uncleJug’s television debut.” Jughead chuckled at that and Betty joined him, theyoung author not quite believing that everyone came together to witness him ofall people do something great but the realization seemed to intensify theperpetual lovely smile he was sporting all the way back to Boston.

“Mom even called to gush aboutyou and your articulacy and your brightly opinioned mind, but what’s new inthat?” she rolled her eyes in fake irritation, an on-going inside joke betweenthem through the years that Alice Cooper loved Jughead more than her owndaughters. He ducked his head in modesty at the complimentary impression thewoman responsible of bringing his other half to the world had for him from thevery start. “Said she’ll call tomorrow to talk to you in person too.” Bettypointed out with an exasperated sigh, not at all mad but, on the contrary,delighted and just teasing him as always about how in too deep in Alice’s goodbooks he was.

He just dropped his foreheadon hers, sighing in relief that he actually didn’t make a fool of himself, thatpeople were proud of him for the very first time. There was this deliciouslysuffocating feeling in his chest, that kind of feeling that life was actuallywinking at him, promising that everything was going to be just fine. Afteryears of him walking around lonely and uncared for, he now had a family, a big familyconsisting of people that loved him and would be there for him for every stepof the way and that was the ultimate happy ending he ever wished for. A happyending that he could witness taking form every day, with every look of love outof those green eyes that held the meaning of his existence. Yes, people wereproud of him; but what mattered most was always the opinion of the first familyhe ever came to know, Betty Cooper and the sanctuary of her love and embrace.

“And what did you think?” hewhispered unsure and vulnerable, because this novel was a part of his soul andtalking about it out in the open was as nerve-wracking as the very first nighthe gave it to her, stripping naked of each and every emotion he held for her inhis broken heart and offering everything for her to take.

“Are you seriously asking thisquestion?” she cupped his cheek, raising his head to look at her, sea of bluegetting lost in forest green in the most beautiful exchange of love anddevotion. “You were amazing, Jughead. Unique, respectful, intelligent and so terribly handsome.” She colored everyword with tenderness and determination, wanting him to know that she meant all ofit and so much more, feeling him visibly relax against her and sneaking hisarms between her back and the couch to cuddle her tighter. “You don’t even knowhow irritated and sad I am that I missed it.” She sighed in regret, stillbeating herself up for having an icy-hearted boss.

“Betts, you would have gottenfired if you pushed the subject of a leave more.” Jughead cut her off with afierce shake of his head. “There’s not only one of us building a career here,you are too, and you must pursue the hell out of it.” He reminded like theperfect boyfriend and guy he was, Betty smiling up at him in gratitude. “Seriouslybabe, stop worrying about it, I know that you wanted to be there. But you werethere for every step of the way before that and you will be there for thenext ones to come, so ease your pretty little head off, okay?” his soothingvoice urged her to relax, brushing the tip of his nose a couple of times overhers, before smiling against her already smiley lips. “Plus, I wouldn’t be ableto utter even a single word if you were standing there watching in person soit’s a win-win.” He shrugged matter-of-factly and Betty giggled lightly, bothof them clearly remembering how distracted and flushed he became every time hecaught her eyes watching him with admiration through the crowd at his first andonly book launch event in Boston. Jughead Jones still got tongue-tied like hissixteen year old self under the power of those crystal clean green orbs.

“So, you do love your girlnext door, don’t you?” she cheekily asked in a candy cane voice, squirmingadorably under him to hug him more.

“I thought we’ve establishedthat by now.” He replied with equal amount of sarcasm seeing her smile growfonder and more dashing. “The question is, did I win her affections back?”

Betty tilted her head againstthe cushion of the sofa, a sigh trembling on her lips at the way he stillsought her confirmation of love after all those years and the way her chestheaved with maddening, head over heels adoration every single time he did. “Becca pulled back and sighed heavily againsthis still parted lips, the force of her kiss causing the course of the planetsinside his mind to change in lightning speed, disturbing the perfect dullnessof his universe. “You taught me what it truly means to fall in love, Bughead. Idon’t wanna settle for less, I can’t settle for less, not after you. I love you.”Betty recited perfectly the lines of his book, quoting every word she haddeclared that night at end of sophomore year when he tried to flee town like amad man, after he had broken down inside her arms as everything around them wascrumbing down. She still meant those words and he knew it, knew that they wouldalways be together, Betty and Jughead being the definition of forever in theirpersonal dictionary of life.

Jughead’s lips formed ananosecond smile at the memory and the way her words and his were mingledperfectly on her lips before Betty continued, eyes focused solemnly on his. His previous words, his public declaration of love and confession of how truly one of a kind she was in his eyes, had stirred something in her, something that commanded her to shower him with her own words of affection. “There’sno one in the world like you, Juggie. You see the world in a way that no oneelse does. And your version of the world is the only one that I want to picturemyself in for all the years to come.” Her hands came to caress his cheekslovingly, Jughead relishing in her touch with fluttering eyes and a flutteringheart. “I can’t even find the words to describe how much I love you, how myheart skips a beat every time I wake up and you’re lying next to me, how Ican’t help but smile every time I hear you whistling in the kitchenabsentmindedly, how I just have to stop and stare whenever you’re typing deepin thought or how butterflies still flutter in my chest every time you look atme with that intense gaze you only reserve for me.” Both of them were seriousand emotional by now, Betty’s voice barely over a whisper in fear of disrespectingthe sanctity of the moment. “You are the person that I admire the most, my bestfriend, my soulmate, my everything in a world of nothing. I never liked beingthe girl next door. But you came along and made that a badge of beauty andhonor and all I ever want now is to be that girl, but only if this door leadsme always to you.” She ended her confession with a trembling but at the sametime certain voice, seeing him look at her like the moon or the stars werenothing in comparison to her.

“Marry me.” Jughead blurted inbarely a heartbeat, mind numb and heart thudding in his chest, not reallyregistering the importance of his question because for him that wasn’t aquestion, he already considered her his everything too; his best friend, hissoulmate, his wife, his person, his own anchor.

Betty’s gasp and blinking wateryeyes were the prettiest reaction he had ever witnessed in his life. “Yes.” Shereplied in simplicity too, like agreeing to them having burgers instead ofsomething healthier for dinner or reassuring him that there was plenty of hotwater for him to take a shower. There was no question, no need for any biggestures or extreme shocked reactions, no thinking about it, like there was noneed for the earth second guessing its centuries old rotation or for the sun torise in the sky at every crack of dawn.

The boyish smile that curledJughead’s lips was the most content and the most make-you-weak-in-the-knees onethat Betty had ever seen him sporting. “God, I love you so much.” He breathedin a disbelieving chuckle before crashing his smiley lips against her damp fromsome rebellious happy tears ones, kissing her senseless and more than terriblyin love, like their life depended on it and they were coexisting because ofeach other’s breathing. And that was maybe indeed the case with them.

“Take me to bed, JugheadJones, and make love to me until I’m gasping for breath and the only thought inmy mind is your beating heart against mine.” Betty pleaded lovingly against hisalready bruised lips, wanting to get completely lost inside of him, the mostwonderful man she got to call hers.

“Is this a wife’s order?” hesmirked against her own red and irritated lips, feeling like the luckiest manon earth at that very moment and vowing to give her everything she ever wantedand so much more.

“Say that again.” Betty’swhisper caressed and warmed his whole face with its tenderness, the girl of hisdreams melting at the sound of the word spilling lovingly out of his lips.

“My wife.” Jughead repeated, husky and with his usual devotionregarding anything Betty Cooper, his eyes caressing every inch of herstunningly beautiful face, falling a little more in love with her at how evenmore breathtaking she looked radiating utter happiness and sunshine in the dark.

She kissed him again,intimately and affectional, heart drumming way too much for her to form actualwords, squealing into the kiss happily as he raised on his feet abruptly,bringing her up with him and causing her to curl arms and legs around him in atight koala hug. And as he continued ravishing her lips while making his way totheir bedroom only one thing was more certain than the power of their love;that Betty and Jughead wasn’t just a happy ending of a book but of an entirelifetime.

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