#thankfully it did not hit a) stack of books and b) stack of Library Books ‼️

[catilinas]

bottle of pomegranate iced tea on my desk just exploded 👍 loud bang woke me up 👍 fermented pomegranate juice splatter zone across my bedroom floor 👍 good morning 👍

[lilibetts]

Someone within a twenty feet radius loves you!

(Part 2/3, Theme 1)

Betty was going to delete LoveAlarm from her phone.

She should have deleted LoveAlarm off her phone.

But come Wednesday afternoon, she still hasn’t, and she couldn’t have told you why. A glutton for punishment, probably.

>>No, you’re just a hopeful romantic! Veronica texts her while she’s in the library during study hall, working on an English essay.  >>The app is all about proximity. You don’t know who you simply haven’t been within twenty feet of yet. Or maybe they just haven’t downloaded the app.

Maybe so, yet Betty can’t help but feel like there is a fine line between hopeful and masochistic. She wants to text Veronica back with a passive-aggressive message about how Veronica has it easy with a bunch of pings and *at least* two people around the school who love her. But she doesn’t because that would be shitty.

The point is, LoveAlarm is still on her phone and she’s doing her best to forget all about it and her unexpectedly complicated feelings about Archie. That’s when it happens: she feels her phone buzzing across the wood table.

Frowning, she checks it, assuming it’s Veronica with more encouraging platitudes. Betty can scarcely believe what she sees, however:

1.

Someone within a twenty feet radius loves you!

The red heart on her screen is practically vibrating off the phone as she watches in shock. Her eyes dart up and around, landing on every face surrounding her. There has to be what, twelve people in the library that could be within twenty feet of her? It’s a popular location for study hall, after all. 

Someone is in love with her.

Was it Trev? Chuck? Sweet Pea? Alex C.? Tyler? Dilton? Of course it occurs to Betty that it could be a girl, but she isn’t up to date on who’s Out and who Veronica and Kevin are convinced are closeted. It definitely isn’t Ethel Muggs, who has started scowling at her every chance she gets lately.

The number on her phone goes back down to zero, so either the person turned their phone off or they just left her radius. Another frantic glance around only shows her the front doors swinging shut. Frowning, Betty realizes that Sweet Pea is no longer in the library and Trev has gotten up and walked over to a shelf in the back. Nobody seems to be doing anything with their phone.

Biting her lip, Betty considers her options, but there’s really only one solution.

                       *********************************************************

Jughead is in the Blue & Gold, fingers clacking away at the typewriter Betty had gotten him for his 16th birthday, Sweet Pea’s teasing words echoing in his ears, when said Hitchcock blonde comes bursting into the room.

“Juggie!” she exclaims a little breathlessly. She has one of those determined grins on her face that make his heart go pitter-patter. 

Thankfully, his phone is off, so it can’t tell on him.

“I need your help.” She drags another chair up to his desk and sits down primly, spine straight and ankles crossed. /If you have the time./

/Of course. What’s up?/

Betty hesitates then, biting her lip. /I downloaded LoveAlarm,/ she says finally, arms and voice tentative. /Someone pinged it in the library earlier and I want you to help me find out who./ With that, Betty slaps down a piece of paper with a list of names on it. Jughead swallows hard.

He’s not an absolute moron, he did expect this. When presented with an unknown suitor, of course Betty Cooper would immediately start to investigate. 

He could just tell her, but again, vulnerability is scary. As Tim Kreider wrote, “If you want to enjoy the rewards of being loved, you also have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” It’s a certainty that she’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe he’s being a coward, but hey, Betty *loves* solving mysteries.  

Jughead doesn’t expect her love in return, he’s just flattered that he was the first one she thought of to help her figure out who pinged her LoveAlarm.

/Why are Sweet Pea and Trev’s names starred?/

/They left my radius around the same time my LoveAlarm went from 1 to 0./

When Jughead had decided to sneak into the library earlier and make her phone ping while he hid in the stacks behind her, he had been counting on the other students around her as cover but now, seeing that she’s zeroed in on two guys in particular has a pit opening up in his stomach.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Jones. Just tell her,” Sweet Pea had told him.

His hands feel clunky as he tries to sign. /And if it’s one of them, how would you feel?/

The question stymies Betty, who shakes her head and shrugs, gathering up her things. /I don’t know. Let’s just figure out who it is and I’ll figure out how I feel then./

“Okay,” Jughead ends up saying to her retreating back.

Thursday is simultaneously the most fun and the most torturous. In the morning, Jughead finds himself helping Betty stalk Sweet Pea down G Hallway, chatting him up to stall him near the Chem classrooms and surreptitiously waving her over once he ascertains that Sweet Pea has his phone out and turned on. 

“Hey, Sweet Pea!” 

Betty practically bounces as she comes to a stop next to him, eyes bright but biting her lip nervously. She’s balancing a 13”x9” tupperware container in her arms, and her phone is in her left hand, turned away from them so they can’t see LoveAlarm open on the screen.

Of course Jughead turned his own off as soon as he arrived at school. What do you think he is? An amateur?

“'Sup, Coop?” Sweet Pea doesn’t know a lot of sign language, but he smiles down at her easily. Jughead is overwhelmed by a sudden urge to kick him in the shin. “Are those for me?” Sweet Pea approximates sign with some basic pointing from the cupcakes in the tupperware container before pointing at himself.

“Uh…” Betty’s sneaking a glance at her phone and for a moment, Jughead is worried. “Yes, you can have one. They’re Boston Cream Pie cupcakes.” 

He groans on the inside. Those are his favorite.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sweet Pea murmurs, grabbing one and peeling away the liner so he can take a bite.

This time, Jughead’s groan may have been audible.

Betty catches Jughead’s eye and shakes her head. Great, that’s one name scratched off their list. To Sweet Pea, she says: “I better be off, or I’ll be late. Bye, guys!” 

Jughead watches her leave, ponytail swishing from side to side. Sweet Pea watches him watch her leave for a moment before he clears his throat.

“Listen, Jones, I don’t mean to rush you and all, but...having a cute girl come up to you all smiles and offering you a cupcake—a damn delicious cupcake at that—might make a guy catch feelings. Just saying.” With that, Sweet Pea takes another bite of the cupcake, getting chocolate icing smeared all around his lips. Every chew he takes seems like a threat. A helpful threat.

“Lima Charlie,” Jughead sighs. Message received and understood. Sweet Pea’s older brother had been in the army and thus, he and Jughead had spent years using military jargon over walkie talkies as they snuck around Sunnyside. With a nod, Sweet Pea gives him an unnecessarily hard pat on the back and heads down the hallway.

When Jughead ducks into the Blue & Gold in between the next classes, he sees the tupperware container on his desk, next to his typewriter, a sticky note on top:

The rest are yours! I made your favorites, after all. -B

God I love you, Betty Cooper.

Lunchtime is nearly a disaster. Betty had roped the two of them into helping the Theater Club finish some set decoration for a production of Almost, Maine. All for nothing, because as it turns out, Trev is out for a dentist appointment. Still, Jughead manages to have fun being half-heartedly helpful while he eats his lunch—two ham sandwiches Betty brought in for him as a bribe for helping her with this—and Betty’s having a good time too, as evidenced by the fact she’s smiling so hard her eyes crinkle, and even when she tries to scrunch up her face to be mad at him eating more than painting, it just collapses into another giggling fit.

It’s when lunch is over and they’re heading up the aisle to where they’d left their things that Jughead remembers he left his phone on. Betty has hers with her, since she thought she would be testing Trevor’s phone for pings, and she’s barely five feet behind him.

Crap.

He hurries ahead and grabs it, depressing the power button. Just before the screen goes black, he could have sworn he saw his LoveAlarm app begin to open.

He doesn’t let himself think anything of it. In the rush, his thumb had probably hit the app button.

                  **************************************************************

Thursday night finds Betty pondering the mystery that still remains: the identity of the person who loves her. Sweet Pea has been eliminated from the list of possibilities, but Trev Brown remains a question mark. 

Curled up in her thick socks and comfiest sweatpants, hair wet from her shower and starting to curl, Betty stares at her laptop screen as she contemplates their next step. Her and Jughead had bonded over their mutual love of The Baxter Brothers and Tracy True books as children, and they’d conducted more than one investigation together over the years, so it’s natural that Betty had gone to him for help with this, even if it’s a little embarrassing.

But why, a niggling little voice asks at the back of her mind. Jughead’s question comes back to her: what will she do if it’s Trev? She doesn’t know. 

Trev’s...nice. He’s cute, and smart, and Betty doesn’t have the faintest idea what she’d do with the knowledge that he’s in love with her. Go on a date with him, she supposes, to at least see whether there is something there before she...breaks his heart? That’s what you do, right? You go to dinner at one of the few nicer restaurants in town or you go see a movie at the Bijou.

She doesn’t really want to think about this, Betty realizes, as her attention wanders from her Sleuthster search results to the ads along the column on the right. One ad catches her eye and she gasps, straightening in her chair and grabbing her phone. Her thumbs fly over the keys as before she hits [send].

<<Do you still have the reels for Rear Window?

>>Yes, why?

<<We should set the projector up in my basement and watch it this weekend. I’ll supply the snacks.

>>Capital idea, Betts, but how are you going to get all that junk food past the K9-level olfactory senses of Alice Cooper?

<<It just so happens that my mom and dad are going to visit Polly in Boston this weekend.

>>Cambridge. Just say Cambridge.

<<As long as we dispose of the evidence and air out the basement with some Febreeze, mom will be none the wiser. I’m sure Archie will donate his trash bin to the cause.

There’s a longer pause before Jughead replies.

>>It’s a   plan

>>Speaking of plans, what do you need me to do tomorrow re: Mission Pings?

Betty grins and taps out the basic framework of how they’re going to corner Trev before the pizza party at lunch, but Jughead will have her phone on him so he can feel for her ping, and listen for Trev’s ping. A thought occurs to her and Betty suddenly feels selfish for insisting that Jug help her.

<<I meant to ask you...have you downloaded LoveAlarm?

>>What do you think?

>>Besides, I already know what it would say.

A terrible feeling, like a vise in her chest, takes her over as she reads and re-reads those words. How can Jughead believe this? Almost immediately on the heels of that thought is the reminder that Betty herself had been despondent on Tuesday when she allowed the melodramatic thought  that ‘nobody was going to ever love her’ to take hold.

<<That’s bullshit. Any girl would be lucky to fall in love with you!

She means her words. Jughead may be antisocial, he may wear that crown beanie practically all the time, and okay, yes he can be the most extra fucking weirdo on the planet...but he’s also clever and passionate, she’s seen firsthand how caring and considerate he can be, and of course he’s objectively attractive. 

Betty stares at the window that faces the Andrews’ home, with the roller shades that are always pulled down lately, and pictures Jughead’s face in her mind, how he’s a bit on the pretty side, especially with that mouth. She thinks about how jealous she’s been of that wild head of dark hair in the past, when she’s seen him with the hat off, and how over the past year he’s shot up another inch or two and seems to have filled out, especially in the arms—

>>From your thumbs to God’s ears, Betts. Night, I’ve gotta be up bright and early to help you catch the worm.

She lets out a huff of laughter and rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see her.

<<Night, Juggie.

[nebbychan]

Beauty and the Beast Pt.1

For @victorluvsalice

Once in a distant land the young princess lived in a shining castle and although she had everything she ever desired the princess was cruel, distant, and mad

But one foggy night at a quarter to three a lone beggar woman came to the castle and begged for shelter from the bitter cold offering to her a rose as red as blood in exchange the princess sneered at the gift and turned her away but she warned her not to be deceived by her appearance for beauty is found within

When the princess dismissed her a second time the woman’s ugliness faded away revealing a beautiful enchantress the princess begged for forgiveness but it was too late for she had seen that there was no love in her heart

As punishment, she transformed the princess into a hideous beast and placed a powerful curse on the castle and all who lived there ashamed of her revolting appearance the princess sealed herself away within her castle with a magic mirror as her only window to the outside world

As days bled into weeks and weeks into months the princess and her servants were long forgotten by the outside world for the enchantress had erased the memories of all who knew them

However, there was a glimmer of hope for the rose was enchanted if she could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell the spell would be broken if not, she would be doomed to remain a beast for all time

As the years passed the princess fell into despair and lost all hope

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

 ~

  In the desolate village of Greycott, where its skies were so eerily grey you’d assume all the smog had blocked out the sun- stood a spacious mansion, and in this mansion lived an elderly merchant and his only son. Quiet and timid, with a pension for stuttering and fondness for literature, music, art, and all things beautiful, his name was Victor Van Dort. And today, he needed to return something. He pushed the doors open, poking his head out to take in the fresh air before fully emerging. He was tall, pale, with hair black as a raven’s wing, and eyes as rich as dark chocolate, fully dressed in a dull suit and in one arm held a basket. As he began his journey he uttered to himself, “Little town, it’s a quiet village, every day like the one before. Little town, full of little people, waking up to say…”

As if on cue, villagers stepped out from their homes, opened windows, or were already out and exchanging their morning greetings. The baker dashes past him with a tray in his hands, one falling out only to be caught by Victor, “There goes the baker with his tray like always, the same old bread and loaves to sell,” he stores the loaf- a favorite of his which was riddled with chocolate, into his basket, “Every morning just the same since the morning that we came, to this poor provincial town-”

“Morning, Victor!”

Victor jumps, turning quickly on his heels and then heaving a sigh, “G-Good morning, Mr. Universe! That was q-quite the scare…!” “Sorry about that,” Greg Universe laughs nervously, “I sometimes forget how jumpy you are!” Seeing him then look behind him inquisitively prompts a laugh from Victor, “Have you lost something again?” “I think I did, problem is that I can’t remember what!” Greg scratches his head and then shrugs, “Ah, I’m sure it’ll hit me in the head later. So, where’re you off to?” Victor beams, as he reaches into the basket and retrieves a book, “To return this to Elder Gutknecht, i-it’s a Jewish folk-tale about a man who marries a corpse.” “Sounds creepy…!” Greg raises a brow. “I know, and it’s why I enjoyed it! I-I really must be on my way, b-but I hope you find what you’re looking for!” They wave to each other goodbye as he continues his walk.

Passing by the schoolhouse, he could hear the whispers of the children as they enter the building in a single file line, “Look there he goes, that man is strange, no question!” they giggled. Some were met with a whack on the head by Headmaster Galswells, “Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?” Victor cringed; he once dealt with the headmaster in his youth, and such memories weren’t worth reflecting on. He felt pity for the children; no doubt they’re enduring the exact experience as he once did every day. Then came the well where most clothes and linens were washed, surrounding it were laundresses or married women and their young daughters. The women sneered as he passed by, saying to each other, “Never part of any crowd, because his head is on some cloud.” “No denying he’s a funny boy that Victor!” He will admit, it did annoy him how nearly all the time this was what they’d talk about, then again they spend a majority of their day by a well with nothing more to do…

“There must be more than this provincial life!” He rolled his eyes as he enters the church. Only times it’d ever be active was on Sundays, rarely ever used on the weekdays except for the occasional villager coming in for confession. It was run by a kindly, yet frail man. Elder Gutknecht was rumored to just be a skeleton in robes, given his age and how bony he looked. The last of the candles had been lit within the otherwise dark church when Victor entered, Elder Gutknecht smiled, “Ah, if it isn’t Greycott’s biggest bookworm! Tell me my dear boy, where did you run off to this week?” Even if he was old, no doubt the man still had energy to spare, catching up to the lanky young man in no time at all. Victor handed him the book, “A tiny little village in Russia, I didn’t want to come back, have you any new places to go?” to which the elder sighed, “I’m afraid not, but you are free to read any of the old ones if you’d like.” He gestures to a small cupboard with an equally short stack of books. There was once a time where Greycott’s library had shelves filled to the brim with books of all sizes, just waiting to be picked up! But times are a changing, and with the sudden increase in population there had to be decisions made in order to accommodate to such a hefty demand. And Elder Gutknecht had only managed to salvage a few books other than the bible. While housing was important, education and knowledge was something he mostly cherished, and it brought absolute joy to have someone like Victor who shared similar interest. Victor smiled, “Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big…” He picks up a book or two, sticks it to the basket and heads for the door, waving at the elder. “Bon voyage!” he waves back.

Victor opened up his book, it was fairly old; its pages had small rips and tears, there were small drawings on the corners or even close to the spine. He wasn’t sure if either he had drawn on them or if another person did it. Then again, who else in the village knew how to draw a lycaenidae butterfly in exquisite detail? He did recall Elder Gutknecht being reasonable; thankfully. As he left the church, several men turned their noses up at the sight of him, some giving a brief “humph” or simply scratching their heads,

“Look there he goes, that boy is so peculiar.”

“I wonder if he’s feeling well.”

“-with a dreamy far off look, and his nose stuck in a book…”

“What a puzzle to the rest of us is Victor.”

‘Isn’t this amazing?’ Victor thought fondly, ‘It’s my favorite part because – you’ll see, here’s where she meets Prince Charming, but she won’t discover that it’s him ‘til chapter three!’ The women at the dress shop grimaced at his passing by, all three redheads; the one in a blue dress and a bow on the back of her hair said to the other- whose hair was done in braids, “Now give him credit he is a beauty, his looks have got no parallel!” The one with her hair done in ringlets scoffed, “But behind that fair façade, I’m afraid he’s rather odd.” the one in braids nodded, “Very different from the rest of us.” “He’s nothing like the rest of us!” The one with ringlets folded her arms, “Yes different from the rest of us is Victor!”

On another side of town stood a lavish estate, with fine grey bricks and freshly washed windows, its sign hanging by the door read:

Mayor Angus Bumby Psychologist/Politician/Social Architect

There were even posters hung up that read in big, bold letters, “RE-ELECT MAYOR BUMBY”, with his mug plastered onto the sheet and surrounding it were little stars and even a train.

Ah yes, who could forget Greycott’s biggest sensation? Former psychologist and therapist- now Mayor, Angus Bumby was the only one in Greycott to have ever gone to Oxford University and graduated, he was well respected for a number of things; his intellect, prowess in politics, and charismatic personality being one of these admirable qualities. He stood in front of the window watching the townsfolk go about their daily routine. He could care less for them; they could jump off bridges for him if he so asked them to, getting an education as well as maintaining status of Mayor in an otherwise run-down and somewhat illiterate village has proved to be quite the benefit. He’d been Mayor for as long as he could remember, and for good reason, as no one stood up to oppose him. He snapped his fingers, “Wiggins, tea.” “Coming, sir…!” A cheerful voice chirped. By the time he had turned, his faithful manservant was standing by him with a saucer and teacup in hand. His clothes, once cheery yellow but now since dulled down to fit in the grey standard, was neat as well as his combed brown hair, which had been done into a small ponytail. “Oolong tea, just as you requested, Mr. Mayor.” He smiled. Bumby accepted the beverage, taking the saucer into his hands and lifting the cup over to his lips.

His eyes narrowed over towards a certain young lad with a book in his hands. Lips curled into a knowing grin, “Look at him, Wiggins, my future partner.” Thank the lord this was now the norm- or else he wouldn’t even be talking about it, “Victor Van Dort is the most divine creature in the village, the most intelligent among these heathens, so pure…and that makes him the best. You know, ever since the dog days of living in London I knew there was something missing in my life, and he’s the only one who gives me that sense of…” “….Je ne sais quoi?” Wiggins tilted his head. Bumby frowned, “Of course you wouldn’t know, right from the moment when I met him- saw him! Here in town there is only he, who is as good as me, so I’m making plans to woo and marry Victor.” He set his tea aside and snapped his fingers, “Wiggins, my coat!” the servant nodded, grabbing for the long, dark brown coat that hung by the doorway, helping him slip it on before following him outside.

                 Bumby adjusted his top hat, making long strides through the crowd just to get closer to Victor, yet whenever he felt like he was getting closer he’d only find himself becoming consumed by the crowd. “Excuse me!” He’d say, “Please let me through!” Finally, he was able to push himself past them, and conveniently by a cart full of flowers. Swiping a bouquet and tossing a coin to the florist, he hurriedly made his way over to Victor. Wiggins, however, wasn’t as fortunate, as he had found himself lost in the crowd. Victor felt a tap on his shoulder; he turned his head and was nearly spooked to see the Mayor standing there, “Good Morning, Master Van Dort!” He tips his hat. The young man blinked, “O-Oh, g-good morning, Mayor Bumby…” he declined the gift, waving his hand at the flowers when Bumby tried pushing it towards his chest. Bumby looks down at the open book that was in Victor’s other hand, with little scribbles drawn on them, “I thought you didn’t read books with pictures.” “I-I don’t, I…my imagination…runs wild sometimes.” Victor murmured. “Ah, like a stallion, I see. You know, they are difficult creatures to tame, but that’s what makes it so exhilarating.” Bumby held up the bouquet, “For your dinner table, perhaps you wouldn’t mind me joining you and your father for dinner this evening?”

“It’s a lovely arrangement, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your gift and the request, I’ll have nowhere to place the flowers! The dinner table already has a formidable centerpiece, a-and quite frankly my father isn’t fond of visitors inviting themselves in regardless of their s-status.” Victor took a step back, carefully placing his book into his basket. Wiggins finally caught up, huffing and puffing, as Bumby hands the bouquet over to the manservant. By the time the Mayor looked back up, Victor had already gone. “He really is a funny boy that Victor.” Wiggins tilted his head in confusion. “Bah, he just doesn’t know what he wants, the bloody tease…” Bumby grumbled, “Perhaps it’s time I take further action, what good are flowers anyway? A flower’s purpose is simple and immutable.”

 Once Victor had returned to the safety of his home, he shut the door behind him, just in time to hear the piano playing softly. If he listened closely, he could hear it coming from the drawing room, that and a few sour notes. No denying it, his father was trying to teach himself piano again. He smirked and made his way over, dropping off the basket on a table in the hallway. William Van Dort sat on the bench, hunched over and squinting his eyes at the music sheet and then at the keys. He followed the first verse without fail, but when he’d hit the wrong note he groaned in frustration and folded his arms. Victor held back a laugh, “I’ll never understand why you don’t hire a tutor.” “I can do it, son, I just can’t find that darned note…” William sighed. Victor came over and examined the sheet. Well, all he’d need is one glance before pressing the key, “Right here, father.” William sat there dumbfounded, “Oh.”

Victor began to chuckle, “To be fair, I don’t think you’re quite ready for triple triads, though the attempt was admirable.” “I’ll get it somehow,” William grinned, “I know I’ve got that musical talent somewhere in that ol’ noggin of mine, probably right next to my business tactics.” He tapped onto his balding head, “Anyway, how was your day at the market?” Victor simply replied, “G-Good…” He didn’t want to inform his father of his encounter with the Mayor. While it’d be easy to point fingers, getting the whole town on your side wasn’t. Considering how Bumby was so glorified, being an unopposed politician with a degree, there’s no way he’d stand a chance. William cleared his throat, “While you’re here, I suppose I’d let you know, that I’ll be going on a trip later today to discuss business with some potential stock brokers. We might be able to expand the cannery to London if I’m lucky.” “Oh, well then I wish you the best of luck, but…w-when will you be back?” Victor wondered. “Depends, I’d estimate about a matter of days, if not then perhaps a week or two, if the process takes longer” His father answered.

The Van Dort’s were known for their cannery, once a small business tucked away behind the pub owned by his late grandfather, when he passed and William gained ownership of the property, he’d taken the risk of selling canned fish to the public, which boomed into an enormous success! William had unfortunately experienced some fallout when he’d attempted to branch out, and almost cost him the empire he’d built so precariously. There was one incident where he sold spices and tea leaves, only to lose his product in a vicious storm, and the only surviving ship carried tainted goods. The deaths of employees and loss in profit made William reflect on the risk of expanding, though this won’t be the last time he’d try something to add more coin to his pocket.

William left the residence after lunch, giving his son a brief hug. Before leaving, he asked what Victor would like from London, to which Victor requested a single red rose. He watched as his father’s carriage pulled away, waving goodbye before retreating to his room.

A while after, he went out once again to visit the sweets shop, and then sat by the church snacking on chocolates and quietly reading to himself, and as he read, Victor had failed to notice the small child approaching him. “What’re you reading?” Victor looked up to see a small girl no older then twelve curiously trying to get a peek into the pages. “Oh, you must be Connie,” Victor turned the book around, “I’m reading this wonderful series called Secundus, it’s about a young man who discovers a town run by science, would you like to read a few pages?” To which the girl nodded, then sitting by him and staring wide eyed at the pages. Victor couldn’t help but smile, perhaps this town wasn’t a lost cause after all. There were some- and thankfully young ladies, who’d love to read. It’d been a long time since he last read aloud, but what if he taught her to read a page or two? Wouldn’t hurt to try, he helped young Connie spell out words she couldn’t understand, explain idioms, and read full sentences. He smiled, “Good job! Maybe I could lend this book to you, if you’d like.” Connie smiled back and nodded, “Yeah, that’d be great!”

“What’re you doing?” Headmaster Galswells cringed, “Teaching a girl to read? It’s bad enough Greycott has outcasts like you, we don’t need any more of them!” Victor shrunk back at the Headmaster’s response, oh how he wished Greycott wasn’t as close-minded about literacy. Though it boggled him how there was a school yet no one but a select few actually knew how to read. Victor leaned over to Connie and said, “I-I think you better find your mother, I-I d-don’t want you getting into trouble.” The child was hesitant, but scampered off in search if her mother regardless. The other residents had ganged up on Victor by the time she’d slinked away into the expanding crowd; one snatched the book from his hands and threw it in another direction and onto a mud puddle, lucky him the book was closed but the cover was now dirtied. After a few choice words and a painful lecture from the Headmaster, Victor recovered his book and began the walk home.

Just as he’d entered, villagers on the other side of town began setting up chairs, tables, lights, food…Elder Gutknecht even showed up with a bible in hand, albeit begrudgingly. He swore he wasn’t paid enough for this. Bumby cleared his throat, “I’d like to thank you all for coming to my wedding, now I just need to go in there and, ‘propose to the girl’.” He winked. The crowd roared with laughter, the three redhead girls seen weeping by the wedding cake. Bumby then turned his attention to Wiggins, “Now, when Master Van Dort and I come out the door, that will be your signal.” “I know, I strike up the band, but sir, don’t you think you’re going too far?” Wiggins frowned, “He is rejecting your attempts.” But his employer hadn’t caught any of it, matter of fact he was already gone by the time he said he acknowledged the signal. He sighed, “Poor Victor…”

               Victor heard a knock on the door. He groaned in despair and opened it, expecting it to be Connie’s mother or some other angry villager. But no it had to be Bumby, who greeted him with an unsettling grin, “Master Van Dort! I see you had a nasty run-in with the Headmaster, nevermind him, I’ll give him a good talking to.” Victor responded looking distraught, “All I wanted was to teach a child to read…!” Bumby blinked, and then took a few steps closer, “Could I give you a little advice about the villagers? They’re never going to trust the kind of change you’d like to bring.” “Then why not do something about it, you’re the mayor.” Victor frowned. “I could, but then I wouldn’t be mayor at all, and simple folks don’t get us. You and I are alike; we have needs, wants…” He held Victor’s hand. Disgusted, he slipped his hand away from the Mayor’s clammy hands, “Mayor, w-we can’t make each other happy! We’re just too d-different.”

Bumby stepped into the mansion, observing the place before giving his target a frightful stare, “Master Van Dort, do you know what happens to young men and ladies once their parents pass on?” He pointed outside, “Your father won’t be around much longer, and without a wife or a husband, you’d wind up like Blue out in the streets, begging for her next meal like some desperate stray. I’m merely doing you a favor.” Victor looked out the window, and there she was; Blue. No one knew who she was or where she’d come from, but the townsfolk preferred to call her Blue, right after her long dark blue cloak which almost always covered her face, her crisp white hair draped over her shoulders as she stood by begging for food, thanking Greg Universe when he gave her a few coins to spend on a precious loaf from the bakery. She was rumored to be grieving over the loss of a younger sister, and her other two banished her from the house because of it. “Quite frankly, Master Van Dort, the only children you should worry about is your own.” Bumby continued, “Picture this for a moment, a rustic hunting lodge up in the mountains, a nice roast cooking in the oven, and my husband massaging my shoulders while the little ones play on the floor with the dolls.” He then cornered Victor to the front doors, “We’ll have six or seven.” “I-I hope you mean dolls, Mr. Mayor…” “No, Victor, strapping young men like me!” “Imagine that.” “And do you know who that little husband will be?” “L-Let me think-“ “You, Victor!” “Mr. Mayor! I-I’m s-speechless, I-I don’t know w-what to say!” “Say you’ll marry me.” “I’m not simple, I’m sorry Mr. Mayor,” Victor had finally gotten a good grip on the knob, twisting it and then swinging it open as Bumby attempted to steal a kiss, “But I’m never going to marry you!” He stood by and watched as the Mayor went tumbling down onto a mud puddle. By then, the wedding party had moved within close proximity of the courtyard. Wiggins gave a smirk and struck up the band, which played on cue as Bumby sat up and wiped the mud off his face. He turned back just in time to see the door slam shut. Wiggins leaned down with a cheeky grin, “I trust that it didn’t go as you’d hoped?” Bumby growled, “I will have Victor Van Dort as my husband, make no mistake!” He got up and stormed back to his estate, the wedding party now called off.

Victor watched from his bedroom window, “Finally, they’re gone…” he sighed in relief. He shut the curtains in a huff, “Can you imagine, me, the husband of that boring, egotistical…!”

Victor Bumby, can’t you just see it? Mr. Bumby, his little husband, ugh! No sir, not him! He’d guarantee it, he wants more than this provincial life! The maids brought him a cup of tea, Victor dismissing them and granting them the rest of the day off with a kind smile. He sipped the beverage, calming his nerves. He sat at his desk, opening a page in his notebook. It’d been a long time, but he began to sketch out wide landscapes. He wanted adventure in the great wide somewhere; he wanted more than he could tell. He leaned in, careful strokes to get each tiny blade of grass; he then sketched a silhouette of himself looking on into the distance. His drawings and stories being his only escape from this crazy town, and also his only way of staying sane.

‘And for once it might be grand, to have someone understand…’ Victor thought for a moment, and then drew a girl next to his image, being careful as to not botch the arms as he connected them, smiling at the result, ‘I want so much more than they’ve got planned.’