#ill never tire of seeing the juxtaposition of the completely different ways these two are in public

[incidentale]

Throwback to this event from 2018 in Ostia after the screening of Non Essere Cattivo during Notte Caligari hosted by Il Cinema In Piazza.

I just think they are neat and hilarious at public events huge thanks to @weardes for tracking it down in this gifset.

Full video in the comments. Brief translation under the cut:

The host is thanking those of the crew who couldn't be there, and then asks everyone if they want to share a memory about Ostia or if they have anything they want to say in particular to the people there, since this was an event that brought the movie where it was shot after three years from its release, in some way closing the cycle with the palce too.

People didn't know who had to start and the host called Alessandro to speak first since he already had the mic.

Alessandro says that it seems like this cycle never ends, that even after so many years since they've met to make this movie, they are still here talking about it and this fact makes him, and them all, emotional. The only thing he can do is to shout his most absolute thanks to everyone for being here and to still want to watch the movie, and more in general for wanting to support cinematography. If one is in love with Non Essere Cattivo it's because they love a certain kind of cinematography, which is what they also love.

Then he makes a joke, aside from his huge thanks, he's passing the mic to Giordano Meacci (screenwriter), that way he'll have things to say for 40 minutes, and quote: "Nah, that's not true, look how handsome he is. And nothing, thank you, what else can I say? There's here Luca Marinelli who has something to say."

Luca meanwhile is taking pictures with an analog camera and is caught off guard, and says "Just like in the 90s." And Alessandro asks if it works with film, that camera, and Luca goes, "Yes, yes. You gotta develop it. Those things..." and makes a gesture to mean 'ancient'.

He then also thanks everyone and starts elaborating a reply. He says it's very, very, veeery moving, and this story really never ends. A while ago, when they were following and promoting the movie, they used to say it was like a book, every time you turn the page and it's blank then it starts filling in as colors start to appear, and seeing everyone here again– "it's been a while but... [emphatically] it doesn't seem like it."

At that everyone laughs and Alessandro cracks up, clinging to his shoulder, and Luca just closes with, "It's beautiful, thank you." Everyone claps and they move on to the screenwriters.

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (10)

indelicate marks: chapter ten - the bargain

A/N: hey kids its me again. here is chapter ten of indelicate marks! i hope you are all enjoying so far and are doing well! - ivy

warnings: language, indications of torture (very slight)

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration

indelicate marks index

You never thought you'd ever say it, but you had missed Draco Malfoy. The last two weeks before Christmas sped by uncomfortably quick. Your last two Occlumency lessons with Draco had gone by uneventful, but within them, you'd got along surprisingly well. The previous rounds of insults thrown back and forth had simmered into a good humoured teasing. In fact, you'd managed to have a few actual conversations with Draco with the hours you spent at the Classroom, between your attempts of Occlumency. It turned out that Draco was better at Astronomy than you - you made it clear that you were more than irritated about that. But, you'd also learnt, that unlike his father, Draco actually wanted to work after graduating. Behind the facade that was Malfoy, you were beginning to see a whole other person. By the time Christmas break had arrived, you were particularly worried about him returning home with the state he was already in. Whilst he didn't reveal much about what was actually happening within the walls of Malfoy Manor, you'd already guessed it was... Bad. If his worsening attitude was anything to go by, whatever happened there was not something you even wanted to imagine. The fear for yourself only occurred to you as you sat on the Hogwarts Express. Staring out the window, surrounded by elated students excited to see their family, you felt out of place. The atmosphere was such a juxtaposition to your mood it was almost ironic. It did, however, give you a sad sense of comfort that Draco must have felt much the same way. At least you were sat alone, and could wallow in your misery. The journey back did not offer you the relief you had sworn it would do. Anxiety itched underneath your skin as you finally arrived back at Hogwarts. Stepping out onto the platform, you instantly swept your surroundings for a tall, platinum blonde, dressed in all black. It was with a pang of nausea, that you realised he was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, you'd managed to spot him sitting further up the table with Parkinson and Zabini during the feast. From where you were sat, you couldn't make out any major injury, or harm. From then, you attempted to put your concern for Draco on the back burner. He was alive, and safe, back at Hogwarts. For now. Ignoring the worry, however, only caused you a great deal of reluctance to go to the usual classroom on the first Thursday back. Throat dry, you stared at the worn wood of the door for a second longer than normal before you finally pushed it open. It was familiar, the feeling of stepping into the room, and it eased you, even if it was the slightest. Yet, the sight of him already sat on his chosen desk by the window only filled you with a conflict of comfort and trepidation. "Y/N," Draco drawled, a crooked grin settled into his features. You turned from locking the door wordlessly, keeping your expression plain. "You survived Christmas, then?" Survived is one way to put it. You offered him a shrug. "You look better than I expected." Your mutter prompted his previous, somewhat easy expression, to falter. It didn't, however, fall. "I'll take it as a compliment." Your next words left you before you could even consider them. "Well, I didn't mean it as one." Being a bitch, much? What the fuck was that, Y/N? Because, there was no teasing edge. There was no hidden warmth. Your voice was cold, poised, a voice you hadn't used toward Draco in a long time. Draco's face fell, this time. Narrowing his eyes, he started to search your figure - but then he was jumping up and towards you with a very, very stern look. Your chest tightened, stumbling away instinctively. "What's wrong with you?" He demanded, grey eyes piercing as you forced a glare at him. Still tired, you noted. A lot more tired than before Christmas, from how sunken his features were, but not ill. "Nothing is wrong with me, Malfoy-" Your growl trailed into nothing. You hadn't seriously used his surname since the conversation you'd had at the Astronomy Tower. Draco's eyes flashed, but you just took a breath, attempting to soften your features. "Draco. I'm fine. You're overreacting." His jaw tightened, gaze still not shifting away from you. Scrutinising. "Don't lie to me." His tone was firm, but not hostile. "You look like you're about to drop dead, you have done all week. And now you're not acting like yourself."   You exhaled through your nose, eyes tired as they settled anywhere that wasn't him. "I'm tired. Long break." Burning, you could feel his glare still on you, but he remained silent. Until, you heard a faint mumble - then, a harsh pressure was grasping at your mind. Giving yourself no time to panic, you threw it back, turning your wide eyes on him. Draco only stared back, looking just as shocked - or offended - and then there was a second surge. You held it off with an ease that surprised both you and Draco, noting the annoyance that flitted over his features. His wand dropped from where it was once grasped and directed towards you, scowling. He had tried to use Legilimency. "Don't you fucking do that again!" You snapped, heart rate picking up now that the threat was gone, panicking. "How the fuck did you keep me out?" Draco ignored your outcry, staring at you with a hard expression. Frustration balled in your chest at his dismissal. "Does it matter? You growled. "You can't just look through my memories whenever you feel like it, Draco!" "I can when you're acting like a twat," He threw back, meeting your eyes, unwavering. "And won't tell me that something has happened when it obviously has." "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want you to know everything?" Your voice strained, you swallowed, throat raw. "Why?" Draco demanded, eyes stormy. "What happened?" You stared at him. Merlin, I forgot how much of dick he can be. "Because I'm a person, Draco, and I don't like everyone knowing my own business?" You raised an eyebrow incredulously, head throbbing. You were too tired, too tired for one of Draco's episodes. "How would you feel if I demanded to know everything you got up to?" Draco's face dropped into a sudden vacancy, the one he would so often wear. "That's different." "Different?" You scoffed, only to let out a sigh, placing a hand on your forehead as you attempted to swallow back the rising insults in your throat. "It's really not. You're just too stubborn to admit you're pissed off that I can keep you out now." Another second of awful, tense silence. You readied yourself for a second attack on your thoughts - but it never came. "Tell me what happened, or we're not meeting again." You would have preferred your expectations. Pulling your hand away from your face, you stared at him, hoping the horror creeping up on you didn't show on your expression. "That's - that's - what?" "You just proved to me you can perform Occlumency." Draco's face was as set as his tone, shrugging. "It's not necessary for us to meet anymore." Your body was a lot colder than before. It started in your chest, ice spreading jolting your heart to stop, then your stomach as it made a heavy drop. You thought things had changed, you thought that maybe, just maybe, Draco had changed. But his face was emotionless. "You-" You couldn't stop your voice from wobbling, and you had to swallow to regain any sense of control over it. "You don't mean that." "How do you know?" Draco only raised an eyebrow, and you dragged your eyes off of him. You couldn't look at that dead expression anymore. "Right. So everything that happened before Christmas was all just bullshit, then?" Tears had begun to gather in the back of your throat, voice breaking as you spoke. "Y/N-" "No, Draco, it's fine. It's all perfectly fucking fine." Your control over your emotions was failing. Merlin, you were just so tired, exhausted, and the one person that could offer you any sense of comfort was doing the complete opposite. "You can give up the act now, if you want." "Stop it." Draco's voice wasn't harsh despite his words, more of a sigh. He took a small step towards you, but you still couldn't look up at him, your mind buzzing. "Can you please just tell me what happened to you over Christmas?" You couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. The sudden soft edge to his tone, the threat of him leaving, your exhaustion. The crushing weight of your burden.   But the tears were coming steady, and you spoke with a broken voice. "I have to take the mark, Draco." He was silent, but you still didn't look up at him, gradually beginning to shake and cry heavier. "In exchange for my parents - being broken out -" Draco was crossing the room and pulling you into a hug before you could even register the fact he had moved. This time, you didn't even flinch, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your head deep into his chest. Draco's hand rested over the back of your head, fingers pulling through your hair. Yet, whilst he wasn't speaking, or making any noise at all, it was better than any words of comfort anyone could have offered you. And, Merlin, had you missed him. What he had said didn't matter. Not now, with his arms so tight around you, letting you sob into a shirt you were pretty sure was worth more than your entire wardrobe. You remained there, for a while, standing in his embrace until the sobs died down - but even then, Draco didn't pull back. "I'm sorry." You mumbled, into the material covering his chest, and his grip tightened a little. "Don't."   You fell quiet again, for a moment. "Lestrange - came on Christmas Eve." You finally began, still muffled. "Made me bargain with her. I take the - the mark. My parents get freed." Draco shifted, pulling back a little to look down at you, hands remaining on your shoulders. You took a moment to stare up at him, only to note his jaw had clenched again. "They already had plans to break them out." He muttered, the grey of his eyes stormy. "Oh, I guessed." Your lips pulled into a bitter smile. "That was more of a... cover up. She had other means of - of - well, persuasion." You couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you, and you knew Draco felt it too. His fingers dug in more than before, prompting your heart to squeeze - with anxiety, or adoration, you weren't sure. It took you a second to look at him again, but you eventually found them searching you, frantic. Rage etched itself into his expression, and you found yourself bringing your hands up to rest them either side of his face. His gaze snapped back up, a lot more gentle as they met yours. "I'm okay." You murmured, but his eyes sunk shut, a deep sigh falling from his lips. "No, you're not." A sad smile pulled at your lips - only for the sudden realisation of how close you were to hit you square in the chest. You could trace every little dip and edge of his features, and a breath caught in your throat as your gaze slipped down to his lips. Still dragged down in the slightest, it took a moment for you to recognise the very overwhelming desire to kiss him. Terrified, you frantically pushed yourself away from him. Draco's eyes snapped back open at the sudden movement. However, he did not question it as you tugged at your sleeves, cursing yourself. Those feelings you'd shoved down in your chest. The ones you'd forbidden, the ones that you chose not to describe. They'd resurfaced so suddenly that it felt as though they were choking you, heart lodged in your throat. You couldn't deny it anymore - that you were very, and overwhelmingly, smitten. With Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy? Draco fucking Malfoy? You have got to be kidding me. "Why weren't you going to tell me?" The question managed to retrieve you from your thoughts, and you flicked a look back at him. He was staring at you, rather intently, hands balled in his pockets. "I-" A faint scowl painted your features, avoiding his eyes again. "Well, I didn't want to make you any more stressed. You're dealing with your own shit." "That's... oddly considerate." Tone teasing, you flashing him a quick look. "I do worry about you, Draco." You lingered your eyes on his for a moment, and they flickered at your admission. "Especially when you don't tell me anything." "Please, don't." His voice hardened, despite the tinge of warmth in the grey of his eyes. "I don't want you involved, and I don't want you to worry about me." "I know." You said, quickly, hoping the bitter pang of rejection in your chest didn't resonate within your expression. "Just - Please keep showing up to these meetings. Even if you don't teach me Occlumency anymore." "You know I didn't mean it." Draco's lips tugged down. Meeting your gaze, he swallowed, before speaking again, much more hesitant. "And I don't act. Around you." You were close to letting out a disbelieving laugh. With that constant deadpan expression, there was no way Draco didn't act around you. But, the way he had spoken, so hushed, but open - it struck a chord within you. You understood what he was trying to say, really. It wasn't bullshit. None of it was bullshit. "How did you manage to get so much better at Occlumency, anyway?" Draco asked, breaking the silence. You hesitated. "Lestrange - she was searching for people to blackmail me with." You mumbled, heart jumping as Draco stiffened. "She didn't find you. I managed to keep her away from finding anything with you in it." Features slipping into an eased position, he nodded, eyes falling away from you. There was a type of tension that continued to linger, after that. You spent the rest of the session, sat together quietly, avoiding any true deep conversation. Draco didn't bring up Christmas again, and you didn't try to encourage him to speak any further about his own trials. You found a type of quiet within Draco that you thought didn't exist. It wasn't deafening, and it wasn't overwhelming. Together, you could ignore what was really happening outside of those four walls. One day, you'd have to face it, you knew that. But, for now, you would enjoy the quiet.

[ayanoinpurple]

Saeran Rant

Okay, so I finished V’s route last week and I have quite a few things to get off my chest. So, like a rational human being, I berated my friends to some extent, but that wasn’t enough so now I’m here. V’s route was not something that I really enjoyed, and I find a LOT of problems with it. 

I’m not saying that the route isn’t well done, because it is. It’s spectacularly written and it played every heartstring I had. The VA’s were amazing at their jobs as usual, and all the hard work payed off into this beautifully tragic story. 

However, as a person whose favorite character from the game is Saeran, a number of things angered me. Time and time again Saeran has been treated by the fandom like someone they could just dump all the problems on, and throw him away at the end. They treat him as if he has only one dimension, which as we learn from the other routes and endings that isn’t the case at all. He’s been written in such a way that a lot of players have either taken the “Cute blushy bad boi uwu” or “he’s fucking creepy and abusive no” approach. 

These opposing views are both ways that he can be interpreted. But the way I read him, as an author who has experience in writing characters who’ve been through trauma, and have issues that they don’t know how to deal with, I think both of these fall short of the true essence of his character. 

When examining Saeran you have to acknowledge both of his alters, along with his character as a child, and his character in the secret endings. You can’t just pick one aspect of his personality, even if it seems to be the dominant one, and label him with it. Personality changes all the time, and so it is an unreliable source of information when it comes to the true soul of a person. We see this most evidently in Seven’s rapid change of personality in his route. 

This means that when it comes down to it, Saeran Choi, the person, is both “Cute and blushy” and “Creepy and Abusive”, and yet neither. This is where evaluating his personality over time can lead us to uncover his true character. 

When he was a child, Saeran was very loving and attached to Saeyoung, his trust in him almost boundless. This is why being told he was abandoned was so traumatic even at 17. And having been kept away from the outside world since birth would mean that even at that age he was still very much like a child much younger. I would compare young Saeran mostly to Ray, which is why I think Ray was derived from his innocent side, but we’ll get to that in a moment. Because of the way he was raised it was very easy for Rika to manipulate him, to turn him into her loyal servant. He would become attached to her in very much the same way as he was to Saeyoung, but on a much stronger scale. 

However, as a result of the torture, the trauma and brainwashing Rika put him through to get to that point caused him to split into two alters. Now, when examining DID it is so common for people to categorize the alters as one “true identity” with another or more “alters” that share the mind and body. While this can be true in some cases, that isn’t exactly the most helpful mindset to have of the disorder as a whole. Each case is unique, and I think that can also be said for Saeran. 

I would argue that while both Ray and Unknown (because if I refer to him as Saeran this will get confusing) acknowledge each other as separate entities, and act as if they are, it isn’t exactly true. In the end, both Ray and Unknown are Saeran, just different versions of himself, aspects of him that split off in order to fulfill what he needed at certain times to be able to process what was happening to him. 

Ray is Saeran’s innocence, his kindness, his heart basically. He needs Ray to feel loyalty, to feel loved and supported. Ray is the scared little boy that didn’t want to believe his brother left him behind. 

Unknown is Saeran’s anger, his vengefulness, his head. He needs Unknown to protect himself from those that would seek to hurt him, which is why he’s so aggressive. He does whatever he thinks will keep him safe and “happy”. Unknown is the furious brother strangling Seven because he put him in danger, betrayed him, and broke him. 

Now trying to put this into categories and generalize these two alters who are so much more complex than I could even explain is problematic, but it is helpful to help you see what I’m getting at. Neither one of them is “Saeran” or the true personality, because both of them have to combine in order to form Saeran. When Ray and Unknown hate each other it appears to be two people who hate each other, but really it seems to be Saeran’s internal monologue of hate on the parts of himself he himself dislikes. 

We never see the juxtaposition between Ray and Unknown in any other route but V’s, and that leads me to think that by that time and under repetitive torture and drugs that the innocent side of him, the one that housed his undying loyalty was crushed and pushed into the back of his mind. He gives in to his own pain and blocks his heart to stop from hurting. It’s with this mentality of “stopping the pain” that he’s so willing to die in the other routes. “I have nowhere else to go” and “Anything that will stop the pain” are two COMPLETELY DIFFERENT reasons for self destructive tendencies. And seeing how that changes over time shows the very deep amount of pain he has been through. 

Which is why this route made me so angry at the way he’s been treated. Saeran is extremely loyal, protective, devoted, and kind upon closer evaluation. It is only the things that have happened to him that corrupted and fractured that. However, in the after endings we see that he’s able to start recovering and these traits are still there. Corrupt or Recovered these stay the same and are evident throughout. 

Seeing people generalize him or hate on him because of the things he’s done or insinuated makes me so furious because it’s clear they’re focusing more on how dangerous he is rather than the fact that he’s just as much, if not even MORE the victim than V. I agree that mental illness doesn’t get you a complete pass, but I think that with all the evidence pointing towards how Saeran isn’t bad by nature he’s been dealt the worse card. 

V is a wonderful person and deserved to be saved, I agree with that statement wholeheartedly. However, I don’t think that by focusing on his big heart and love for the RFA and Rika that he should just get a pass for the things he’s done. Telling him that things aren’t his fault may help him heal in the long run, but it isn’t exactly true. Sure, Rika’s problems weren’t his fault, but his obsession did lead in some way to her falling deeper and deeper into them. And it’s because of his selfishness and thinking that what he thinks is best for everyone else that Seven sat there fighting against his own brother unknowingly leading to his brother’s defeat and demise. 

Not telling Saeyoung about Saeran may have kept Saeyoung’s loyalty and friendship for a short time, but do you think that he won’t eventually find out about what really happened? How is he going to react then? If he had at least known, he might have been able to rescue Saeran, even at the last minute. And the SECOND that he started showing self destructive tendencies someone should have tried to help him, to get him away from Mint Eye, or at least to convince him that he wasn’t unloved. But there wasn’t even an option for that. He was just ignored and left to die as a last show of loyalty. 

Not at all unlike V throwing himself in front of that bullet meant for Rika. 

And yet because Saeran’s problems are his aggressiveness he doesn’t seem to get much sympathy. He’s labelled as the “crazy creepy bad guy” and people abhor him. If V isn’t the bad guy even after his contributions, then why is Saeran? Why even is Rika? If you look into it, you see that none of them are the true antagonist in this game. Saeran is NOT the bad guy. He is not solely creepy or a bad boy. He’s just a victim. So is Rika. They’re written that way, but sometimes it’s hard to look at them that way when compared with the things that they’ve done, but it’s true all the same. None of them deserve what happened to them because in the end they weren’t fully in control, and they all recognize that. They were prisoners to their own minds. 

The true antagonist of this game is Mental Illness.  

I don’t want a Saeran route because I’m attracted to the dyed hair, leather jacket bad boy type or because I think he’s the cutest thing on planet earth. I want a Saeran route because it would make up for all this misunderstanding. It would explain what it’s like to struggle with these issues. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would be genuinely horrifying as it would be scary to delve into his dark and tortured mind. But most importantly, it would show this poor tortured boy that even though he’s cracked and broken that he’s still a beautiful character and deserves love. 

I’m just so tired of seeing people hate him for something he can’t control, and shoving him into a corner he doesn’t belong in. 

He deserves to be saved. 

[cooperjones2020]

Nobodies Nobody Knows

Summary: She is the lamp in Hero’s tower, the scissors in Delilah’s hand, the blood in Guinevere’s bed. She is a million and one metaphors and all of them are his undoing.

part 1/?

Some of the scenes from Second City but from Jughead's perspective. More a character exercise than a story.

Apparently I have no self-restraint and need to post things as soon as they’re completed, which now means I’m out of pre-written material so stuff may take longer. Also I really wanted to use this title and Algren strikes me as someone Jughead would like.

(ao3->http://archiveofourown.org/works/11434950/chapters/25623927)

By the time Sunday night rolls around, Jughead Jones wants a beer, a shower, and several hours uninterrupted with his Netflix. He has been doing line edits on his new manuscript for ten hours, sitting hunched over his coffee table. Because he’s a grown-ass man and he doesn’t own a desk.

So, more than the beer, the shower, and the Netflix, he wants to grunt and sweat and expend some goddamn energy until his muscles are as tired as his eyes.

But, instead of any of those things — those blessedly simple, easy to satisfy desires — because the universe has a fucking sadistic sense of humor —  he walks into Mary Andrews’s house to find Betty Cooper.

Now that he thinks about it, Mary had looked surprised when she’d opened the door. But he’d pushed his way in and made himself at home the way he’d been doing since he was 19. Mike was expecting him. They had a date with some wood.

It’s not a creepy sex thing. He’s taken up woodworking and furniture restoration.

Expect Mike is in London. Halfway down the hallway, her words stop him cold. “Here, come into the living room, I’m having dinner with Betty.”

“Betty.” He only knows one Betty. “Betty Cooper?” Red alert. SOS. All hands on deck.

“Of course Betty Cooper. Didn’t I tell you she was moving here?”

“No actually, I don’t think you did.” He doesn’t know how much Mary knows, doesn’t know if it’s truly an oversight on her part or if Archie has told her something and she thinks she’s helping him by keeping him in the dark about Betty. If it’s the latter, she is. Or she was, anyway.

But she’s already pushed past him into the living room. There’s nothing else for it.

Betty Cooper is every bit as beautiful as she was ten years ago. More so. And he swears his heart stops in his chest when he rounds the corner and sees her for the first time.

He truly hasn’t seen her since high school. He doesn’t have a facebook, doesn’t follow her on instagram. She may have featured in a few of Archie’s posts over the years, but he’s always told his eyes to slide off of her. To not linger on what he can never have. She looks older. No shit. But more mature, more relaxed. Her neck looks longer and her hair shorter. It is still a beam of sunlight.

Jughead Jones is a writer. And he likes to think he’s at least okay at it. He trades in metaphor and simile, synechdoche and metonym. But his entire life, every time he’s seen her, the only thing that’s shot through him, the only word he’s been able to grab onto and hold is sunlight. The color, the warmth, the feeling.

When she says hello and reaches out a hand, he takes it automatically. Something somewhere in his nervous system is misfiring. He’s pretty sure he says her name.

“Can I get you some food, Jug?”

Ah yes, a distraction. “Always Mary. Do you even have to ask?”

Of course that means Mary turns back to the kitchen, so Jughead is left sitting across from Betty Cooper, staring at her like she’s a goddamn ghost. Betty, forever her mother’s daughter, manages to make small talk.

“Did you say something about a desk?”

“A—? Oh yeah. Mike and I are restoring this turn-of-the-century roll-top desk Mary found at an estate sale. It was gift when The Final Fissure hit the bestseller list.” Idiot. Stop bragging.

But then he notices color creeping her up chest and her eyes slide to the right. Where what he assumes is her purse sits in front of the fireplace with a very familiar cover peaking out of the top. Before he gives himself a chance to think, he picks it up.

“If you ask me if I want an autograph, I’ll clock you.”

“I would never.”

It’s a paperback, and it feels like a pretty new one. The pages are crisp and there’s no crack in the spine. He thumbs through it.

“Why, Betty Cooper, no annotations? I’m shocked.” That’s good, Jug. That’s almost funny.

“Actually—that might be my second copy. I got to the airport way too early and, in a whirlwind of productivity, I’d already shipped all my books here—well not here, cause they’re in Lexington at the moment—but I didn’t have anything to read and I’d already finished the newspaper and it was on display in Hudson’s. I picked it up just to look at but before I knew it you’d sucked me back in. So I bought it so I’d have something to do on the plane.”

There are many threads in that spiel on which he’d like to tug—Lexington?—but at the knowledge that she not only found his writing compelling but found it compelling enough to buy two copies of his book, his heart swells up in his chest and he can’t breathe.

“Hey you don’t have to justify buying my book to me.”

He’d actually thought about sending her a copy, before it first came out. He debates telling her that, just to see how she’d react.

But then Mary returns.

“Here you go, Jug. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Logically, he doesn’t. So he accepts his plate and turns tail for the basement, trying to ignore the ball of string that wants to lead him out of the labyrinth, up the stairs, right to where Betty sits.

So many questions run through Jughead Jones’s mind the first time he sets eyes on Betty Cooper in ten years. But above all he wants to ask her, Who are you now, Betts? How did you get here from there, Betts? What happened to you when I left you? Did you find the strength I always knew you had?

For a while, he loses himself in the slog of paint stripper, sand paper, and power tools. He tries not to think about the fact that they’re almost certainly talking about him. He wants to know what she’s asking Mary. He wants to know what Mary’s telling her. He’s ashamed when he considers creeping up the stairs to listen at the doorway.

When he emerges a few hours later, most of the lights on the first floor have been extinguished. But for the glow creeping its way down the hallway from the kitchen, slipping its fingers into Betty’s hair where she sleeps on the living room couch, an afghan slipping off one shoulder.

He gives himself a moment just to look at her. When the moment passes, he turns and Mary is watching him from the doorway, a mug of tea cupped in her hands.

“How’d it go?” There’s a look in her eyes he can’t quite decipher, but he’d bet his next advance it’s not about his pet project.

“Slow progress. I’m trying not to damage the wood when I remove the old varnish. It’s like the Battle of Verdun but for my patience. When’d you lose Sleeping Beauty over here?

“An hour and half or so ago. I was going to just let her sleep on the couch but I’d forgotten you were here. Maybe you could carry her upstairs.” Everything inside him screams out yes: yes, take her in your arms again; yes, press your cheek to her hair; yes, match the rhythm of her heartbeat to yours. But everything also screams out no: no, don’t torture yourself; no, she wouldn’t want it; no, you have no right. The two everythings wrench him apart.

But then, before he can respond: “I’m awake!” And so she is.

“Hey Pippi Longstocking.” He wonders how many more mediocre movie references he can jam into tonight.

“Betty, you’re welcome to sleep in the guest room upstairs. But if you want to go home, I’m sure Jughead can take you.” His stomach twists in two different directions again.

“Oh no that’s alright, Mary. I can just take the L.” Like hell she can.

“No, Betty, you’re not riding the red line home by yourself this late at night.” He is not being a caveman. He would say that to anyone. Hell, he wouldn’t ride the red line at midnight by himself. Especially not if there’s been a game tonight — which he thinks there has been. And he looks scary. He has a leather jacket!

“Jug’s right, honey. It’s not safe and you’re so new to the city anyway. Let him take you home.”

He’s not quite sure how, because he can tell she doesn’t want to, but Mary somehow convinces her. He tries to mentally prepare himself to have her on the back of his bike, touching him, a twisted version of his sixteen-year-old self’s fantasy come to life.

When Mary has kissed his helmet and vanished back into the house, he asks, “So where to, Miss Daisy?” Update: the answer is one. One more mediocre movie reference.

She names an address near the Newberry. “Of course you live in River North.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ask me again in a month if you haven’t figured it out.” Stupid. Betty in Chicago is not equal to Betty in his life. He will not try to parse whether this is a fantasy or a nightmare. He will not let himself hope. Hope is not for people like him.

“And where do you live?”

“In Logan Square. And before you say anything, I lived there before the hipsters moved in.” More stupid. She’ll definitely latch onto that.

She does. “Really? Before the hipsters moved in? Well okay then. By all means, continue to proselytize on the ills of gentrification.”

He snaps his visor shut and swings a leg over the bike.

He takes her down Lake Shore Drive though it’s slightly out of the way, so they can enjoy the juxtaposition of the city lights and the deep, dark lake. In the night air, her arms burn where they touch his chest.

When they get to her building, she awkwardly climbs off and he stows the helmet in a saddlebag.

Then she touches him. “Thanks, Juggie.”

He sucks in a breath. He feels the point of contact, the nickname, zing through his system. She, too, seems to realize what she’s done.

He can’t help himself. He slides a hand down her arm, cupping her elbow, before bringing it to rest atop hers. He lifts it and squeezes, says, “Night Betts.”

“Night.” He watches her slip into her building, then kicks the bike to life and roars away. He takes the corner as sharply as he can get away with and heads toward the expressway.

[mutenized]

Secrets (Modern Thomas Jefferson x Reader)

Words: 2,800

Authors Note(s): SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG

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'What's the worse feeling a human can feel? Love. Love is something that is so rare to find and humans lust over it. It has become a task in life to find love, get married, have children, and die. That isn't what love is. Love is falling for another person constantly, over and over again. Living for the moments you have together and mourning the moments you aren't with each other. Love is getting to know someone more than you know yourself and treating them like a priceless artifact because you don't know what tomorrow brings. If you love someone, you feel like a totally different person without them and you don't know what to do. This is how I feel towards (Y/N) but I'm afraid she will never notice.'

        Jefferson closes his laptop, finishing the entry for his Creative Writing course. Though it was a measly paragraph, anything that he wrote about her made his heart skip a beat. Seeing her in his Literature classes made his day better in masses. Taking his phone out, he typed in her name and began to text her.

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        A phone's buzzing broke your focus from your work. Reaching to grab your phone, a notification for a text from the group chat you're in with Angelica, Maria, Aaron, Thomas, and James pops on your home screen.

        'Hey Guys' was the message from Thomas. Laughing at Jefferson's simple greeting, your thoughts race. He wasn't as simple as his messages. Thomas Jefferson was a walking paradox. He always contradicted himself with his simplicity. His work was so complex and true coming but the way he acts is something of a laid back, nothing-to-worry-about person. On that matter, everybody in your friend group could be described as a literary device. Maria was a walking onomatopoeia since she makes a squeal or grunt whenever something happens. Angelica was an anecdote. She could tell you anything about anyone but put a funny twist on it. She was intelligent but also had a way of her that would spill no ill will unless someone was in danger or in danger of hurting someone else whether it was intentionally or unintentionally. Aaron was a cacophony in his own sense. Any story he told or any lesson he taught made a harsh sound in your head making anyone listening feel disturbed and objectionable but yet you were comfortable around him. Only some were and you were one of them. Finally, James was a walking, talking juxtaposition. He drew parallels between Thomas' belief and the man they all loathed, Alexander Hamilton. He knew that Thomas' beliefs and what he was trying to find in life was more conservative than Alexander's and he knew that their beliefs will never cross one another. But what about you? What were you? In your mind you couldn't identify what you were while everyone else would see your life as a walking tragedy. When you were younger it was a pleasant time that you could never forget. However, when you were about 5 your parents had seemed to go insane when they kept leaving the house at random times. It got worse and worse over time until they would leave you home alone for a week at a time. One night right after Christmas, they left you with your grandparents and never returned. Being only 7 now, you couldn't stop them and even if you would try it would go without avail. On New Years Eve, the police found your parent's car in a ditch. Still locked inside, they seemed to have driven off the road with an over load of hallucinogens in their systems which left you as an orphan in your eyes since living with your grandparents was like living on your own.

                Snapping out of your thoughts, you look back to the screen of your phone. Aaron had responded with a simple 'Hello' while Maria responded with a usual 'Hey' followed by an emoji of her choice. It seemed to be that Angelica and yourself were the only two that had not responded. Unlocking the device, your fingers glide across the screen. Typing your message, you forgot about the new iOS update they had you download.

                "Hey guys!" You respond with a black heart emoji to accompany the message. 'Finally something to match my soul' you thought to yourself before a text appeared in the chat. Angelica, who seemed to be your intellectual twin, wrote what you had just thought. Laughing, you roll your eyes and sigh while reading over the messages flooding the group. Thomas hadn't responded since he started the conversation which was odd. Knowing Thomas has a long and successful background of law in his family, you decided to message him, asking if he could help you study for your Legal Studies class. 

                "Hey, Hey TJ." You text him with a giggle, knowing he would answer right away. As predicted, Thomas' response popped up so quick that it might've been typed already so he was just waiting for your initiation of the conversation.

                "Hey, sweetie. What's going on?" 

                "Can you help me study for my Legal Studies class? I really need help with the final which is in a week. Pleassseeee?" You press send, your pleading nature for help only showed one-fourth of the dread and nervousness that rested in the pit of your stomach. A ding signified his response. Looking at the lit up screen, you smile as you see that he obliged. You two were in a relationship but were both reluctant to tell anyone since he didn't want any rumors and drama that followed him to affect you and your studies. Respecting that, you two would meet under the thought of a study date or a case study. The only people who know about this are Aaron, James, and Angelica. You and Thomas agreed not to tell Maria since she was like most guys around attractive women, they can't keep it in their pants. Well Maria can't keep a secret to herself, take Eliza and Alexander's relationship now? It's under siege since dear Maria tried to throw off their whole course. However, she was intelligent and that's why she is included in your group, to plan out different techniques of studying and remembering items. Heck, she was even there if you needed help at two in the morning. 

                A knock at the door ten minutes later signified that Thomas had arrived. Rushing to open it, you were greeted by Thomas' smiling face and frizzy hair. Hugging him, you smile and close the door behind him. "How've you been?" His smooth voice filled the air as you back up and sit on your bed. The answer was clear but he wanted a more in depth response. "Good, just a bit stressed since finals are this week and I feel like I'm not prepared at all." You groan, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Well did you do your Creative writing insert?" Your eyes widen in shock and fear. The answer was evident, it had completely slipped your mind since you were worried about the bigger finals you had to complete. Thomas shook his head and let out a small chuckle. "Well I know you and so I brought you coffee, fruit, and other items that'll boost your energy and keep you up. Just don't crash, okay?" He pecked your temple and you sighed happily with a nod. "Alright." You agreed, ideas already flowing through your head. 

        It being your last semester in college before you graduate alongside Thomas and your other friends, you decided to write a 'metaphorical' piece if that is appropriate to call your plan. After the few hours of Thomas helping you with studying the specific law cases that were on the study guide the professor politely gifted your class. Whenever you got the case, the case's details, and the outcome correct, Thomas gifted you with a kiss on your lips or temple. When you got anything wrong, Thomas wouldn't 'punish you.' Instead he would encourage you to think deeper than you initially did. As the clock on your wall signified it was midnight, you sigh and shake your boyfriend awake but with no avail. Grabbing the throw off your chair, you throw it on top of Thomas as he slept peacefully. He curly hair was frizzed everywhere and his usually emotion filled face was relaxed which made your stress level lower for the first time in forever. 

        Taking a sip of the coffee you had made to refill the cup that your generous boyfriend gave you, you sit at your desk, your eyes straining as you open a blank document and find the idea that had earlier graced your mind. Typing down your name, the professor's name, the class hour, and the date, you then center the title of your Creative Writing final writing piece.

                                                       Secrets

        Secrets fill dread in the soul and even breaks your sanity. As days, months, and even years pass, the secret of us being together kills me. Secrets from the public create secrets between the two of us. The secret was to keep our relationship unknown but now the secret is that I hate keeping us a secret now. This has been going on for three years now and I can't take it anymore. Every time I see you in public I just want to hug, kiss, and cling to you like we do in private. I'm tired of making up fake study dates just so we can see each other. I just want to show everyone that I am yours and you are mine. You say I am your girl but no one else knows that. I want to be (Y/N) who dates Thomas Jefferson, not (Y/N) who keeps to herself and talks to a small group of people and no one else. Am I going to be a secret forever or is he going to tell people about our three year relationship? After three years of being a secret is enough, I don't want to be a layer of his life that gets over looked by everyone. I don't want my friends to turn a blind eye to our relationship, knowing that it is there but getting thrown into the pain of not being able to tell anyone. 

        Secrets have tormented my life before this. My parents were addicted to drugs but never told their friends, coworkers, or parents and my grandparents never wanted to see me because I reminded them so much of their druggie children that died on a cold winter's day. My huge secret is that I am only comfortable with myself because of my small group of friends. I am myself because James Madison helped me find my inner peace and my happiness no matter how bad the situation. After all this time with trying to find peace with the fact that, until after graduation, we will be a secret to the public eye. I have full trust in him but sometimes I doubt myself. Am I not good enough and that's why he's keeping us a secret or is it truly because of the drama that surrounds him and his family? Secrets should never be told but I just told all of mine.

                As soon as you proof read and correct mistakes that were on your paper, you print it out and place it in a plastic cover with a title page. Shoving that in your bag along with your study guides, you look over to Thomas and sigh. You were already in your sweats and top that you sleep in so you crawl over Thomas and lay in his arms as you yawn once more. The scent of his Adidas cologne and Irish Springs body wash overcame your senses with pleasant memories as you slowly fell asleep. It seemed like he was already deep into R.E.M sleep when you went to bed but by the time your alarm went off in the morning his face was softer but his eyes weren't in the calm and unscrunched look as before. His eyelids were scrunched like he was squeezing them shut. 

        "I know you're awake, you dink." you nudge him with a small laugh as his face lights up with his stunning smile. His chuckle fills the room over yours as he pecks your cheek. Sitting up, you stretch and get up before walking to the wardrobe in your dorm and pulling out a pullover sweatshirt and tattered jeans that had many paint stains on them along with frayed denim at the folded cuff of the leg. Putting the outfit on and barely bothering with your hair or makeup. 

        "Can you throw me a shirt and jeans?" Thomas asks nicely before grabbing his bag that he brought from his room with all of his needed items in it. His notebooks, phone and laptop along with his charger for both his needed devices were tucked away neatly in the bag. Grabbing his favorite shirt and a pair of jeans that were his, you walk to your boyfriend and hand the items to him. Kissing him good morning, you run your hands through his tangled locks which made him wince softly. 

        "You're going to put your hair up right? It's so tangly so it'll be impossible for you to untangle it before we get to class." You remind him, handing him a hairband and the other hair products he left at your dorm. After he got ready, Thomas kissed you and grabbed both his and your's bag. Taking his hand in yours, you headed out of your dorm with all of your needed supplies and keys. Taking a deep breath while walking onto the public grounds, you let go of Thomas' hand and take your bag from him before heading off to the exam hall. 

        A month passes and you get the results from your exams, you had gotten perfect scores. All of your friends were congratulating you by treating you to drinks at a local pub before a steaming Thomas storms through. Pulling you away from the small group and into a private area of the facility, Thomas' brown eyes flicker with emotion. Pulling out the creative writing column that the professor of that class put together, he shoved the crumpled up piece of paper into your face. 

        "Explain this. Why is your writing on the column? Why is it public? Now everyone knows we are dating! You are getting yourself into unnecessary drama!" Thomas' voice was demanding but soft at the same time just to make sure he wasn't causing a scene. Reading the paper that was now in your grip, you laugh and roll your eyes. "So it's my fault? Look at the article over it, mister perfect! You started it all! You blatantly stated that we are dating!" Your voice was angry while your expression was hurt. You were never a sensitive person. You had learned how to bury your emotions but this was shocking and you could never guess this would happen. Tears swelled in your eyes before shoving the paper back in his hands and stormed out. 

        "Whatever, Thomas. Check the facts before you convict someone because that can end up ruining your future and your credit." You spat out before going back to the table, grabbing your purse, and storming back to your dorm with a purpose. You knew he was following you because he had made a ginormous mistake. Calling your name, you rush past the other people in the courtyard as fast as you could before getting into your dorm room and slamming the door loudly before locking it behind you. Laying on your bed, you bury your face into the pillows you still haven't packed yet. Hearing Thomas bang on the door, you curl up on the bed and bring your knees to your chest. A silent sob left your body as you heard him get his key that you gave him out of his pocket and fit it in the keyhole. Unlocking the door, Thomas rushed in and held you close to him.          "(Y/N), I'm sorry for flipping out. I was just afraid at first then I was mad at myself for not realizing you felt so horrible about us being secret for so long. If it was having a negative affect on you, you could have told me. We could've made it public but I was scared you would get overwhelmed by the publicity and drama." Pausing in between his statement, Thomas was now having his own fits of sobs. Holding you tight in his arms, he laced his hands in your hair. "Please never leave me."                  "Don't worry, I never will."