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[amisfitsmemoir]

Ok, I just watched the finale. Did this age well or WHAT?

Intertwined Souls: Love in Riverdale

In the quaint town of Riverdale, a profound tapestry of love and emotions unfolded among four friends: Archie, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica... their connection transcended traditional boundaries, weaving a complex web of intertwining hearts.

Archie Andrews, the charismatic redheaded boy next door, found himself entangled in a bittersweet dance of love with Betty and Veronica. Each passing moment with them ignited a tempest of emotions, his heart torn between the tender, nostalgic affection he shared with Betty and the incandescent, magnetic passion that blazed between him and Veronica. His love stretched across uncharted territories, daring to embrace both souls with equal fervor.

Betty, the epitome of compassion and tenderness, carried a profound love for both Archie and Jughead within the depths of her soul. Her emotions flowed like a gentle river, intertwining their affections into a tapestry of exquisite intimacy. The love she held for Archie emanated with a comforting warmth, like a soft embrace that whispered of familiarity and cherished memories. In contrast, her connection with Jughead blazed like a wildfire, untamed and passionate, igniting a flame that illuminated the uncharted depths of her heart. Her very being yearned to immerse herself in the intricate dance they shared, to explore the boundless dimensions of their love.

Jughead Jones, the enigmatic wordsmith, was irresistibly drawn to both Archie and Betty. Their collective love wove a symphony that resonated within the chambers of his heart, a melody that echoed through every fiber of his being. The tender caresses from Betty and the intense connection he shared with Archie became interwoven threads in the tapestry of his soul, forming a masterpiece of emotions that defied the limitations imposed by society.

Veronica Lodge, the embodiment of fierce independence, was captivated by the blossoming love among Archie, Jughead, and Betty from the moment she stepped foot in Riverdale. The intimacy they shared ignited a fire within her, compelling her to yearn for a place within their intertwined hearts. In their presence, her emotions surged like a symphony, a harmonious blend of desire and longing that transcended conventional boundaries. With an unyielding yearning, she sought to join their dance, intertwining her heart with theirs in a passionate and profound union.

United in their journey through the trials of Riverdale, they forged ahead, guided by a love that transcended societal boundaries. Their bond became a sacred refuge, a sanctuary where authenticity flourished, shielded from the harsh judgments of the world. Within the embrace of their collective arms, they discovered a sanctuary—a place of solace and comfort that kindled an inferno of passion. In this sacred space, they found not only respite but also an unparalleled sense of belonging—a profound intertwining of souls that whispered, "Here, you are cherished and understood."

In a town shrouded in secrets and cloaked in shadows, they sought solace within each other's arms, intertwining as lovers in a tapestry woven with vulnerability and desire. Together, they defied the constraints of societal expectations, boldly rewriting the rules to forge a bond that defied definition, a love story that dared to be uniquely their own.

And thus, the tapestry of love among Archie, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica flourished, their hearts entwined in a symphony of perfect harmony. Amidst the chaos that enveloped Riverdale, their love blossomed as a radiant beacon, illuminating the path of hope and acceptance. Their connection stood as a resounding testament to the indomitable power of love, an unwavering reminder that its strength transcends boundaries, and the desires of the heart know no bounds...

[amisfitsmemoir]

Intertwined Souls: Love in Riverdale

In the quaint town of Riverdale, a profound tapestry of love and emotions unfolded among four friends: Archie, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica... their connection transcended traditional boundaries, weaving a complex web of intertwining hearts.

Archie Andrews, the charismatic redheaded boy next door, found himself entangled in a bittersweet dance of love with Betty and Veronica. Each passing moment with them ignited a tempest of emotions, his heart torn between the tender, nostalgic affection he shared with Betty and the incandescent, magnetic passion that blazed between him and Veronica. His love stretched across uncharted territories, daring to embrace both souls with equal fervor.

Betty, the epitome of compassion and tenderness, carried a profound love for both Archie and Jughead within the depths of her soul. Her emotions flowed like a gentle river, intertwining their affections into a tapestry of exquisite intimacy. The love she held for Archie emanated with a comforting warmth, like a soft embrace that whispered of familiarity and cherished memories. In contrast, her connection with Jughead blazed like a wildfire, untamed and passionate, igniting a flame that illuminated the uncharted depths of her heart. Her very being yearned to immerse herself in the intricate dance they shared, to explore the boundless dimensions of their love.

Jughead Jones, the enigmatic wordsmith, was irresistibly drawn to both Archie and Betty. Their collective love wove a symphony that resonated within the chambers of his heart, a melody that echoed through every fiber of his being. The tender caresses from Betty and the intense connection he shared with Archie became interwoven threads in the tapestry of his soul, forming a masterpiece of emotions that defied the limitations imposed by society.

Veronica Lodge, the embodiment of fierce independence, was captivated by the blossoming love among Archie, Jughead, and Betty from the moment she stepped foot in Riverdale. The intimacy they shared ignited a fire within her, compelling her to yearn for a place within their intertwined hearts. In their presence, her emotions surged like a symphony, a harmonious blend of desire and longing that transcended conventional boundaries. With an unyielding yearning, she sought to join their dance, intertwining her heart with theirs in a passionate and profound union.

United in their journey through the trials of Riverdale, they forged ahead, guided by a love that transcended societal boundaries. Their bond became a sacred refuge, a sanctuary where authenticity flourished, shielded from the harsh judgments of the world. Within the embrace of their collective arms, they discovered a sanctuary—a place of solace and comfort that kindled an inferno of passion. In this sacred space, they found not only respite but also an unparalleled sense of belonging—a profound intertwining of souls that whispered, "Here, you are cherished and understood."

In a town shrouded in secrets and cloaked in shadows, they sought solace within each other's arms, intertwining as lovers in a tapestry woven with vulnerability and desire. Together, they defied the constraints of societal expectations, boldly rewriting the rules to forge a bond that defied definition, a love story that dared to be uniquely their own.

And thus, the tapestry of love among Archie, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica flourished, their hearts entwined in a symphony of perfect harmony. Amidst the chaos that enveloped Riverdale, their love blossomed as a radiant beacon, illuminating the path of hope and acceptance. Their connection stood as a resounding testament to the indomitable power of love, an unwavering reminder that its strength transcends boundaries, and the desires of the heart know no bounds...

[amisfitsmemoir]

Days 4-7

Cautiously, he murmured, "maybe you need the chance to miss me," instantly regretting the words that slipped from his lips. Unexpressed thoughts can bear the heaviest weight. No rescuing those words was possible now; they hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Would those words resurface, etching their mark on her mind? Did she secretly yearn to miss him, to feel the void of his absence? Perhaps she already longed for a version of him lost to the past, a version he could no longer embody. He ached to unravel her hidden depths, to discover the desires and secrets she held close. In the ensuing silence, he wished for a glimpse into her mind, to hear the words she would never share. But all he could do was ponder, awaiting answers that may never come.

His heart ached for strength and self-assurance, to exude confidence untethered from external validation. Deep within, he wanted to believe his mere presence could be felt, even in the room's forgotten corners. Yet, he grappled with how to embark on this transformative journey. The path ahead was unfamiliar, like wandering through an unmapped land. Seeking guidance, he found resonating instructions - but only written in an incomprehensible language. Every fiber of his being yearned for metamorphosis, shedding insecurities and embracing his inherent worth. But the steps to manifest this change remained elusive, as if he stood on the threshold of a locked realm. To embark on the journey of self-transformation, he understood it required courage, perseverance, and a willingness to explore the unknown. Deciphering the language of his soul, he sought the strength to navigate uncharted territories, inching closer to the self-assurance and self-compassion he craved.

Just as fervently, he yearned to genuinely understand her, to delve beyond the surface and explore the profound depths of her being. Despite his claim of knowing her better than anyone, a persistent sense lingered—there was more to her, an essence concealed, awaiting revelation. Had others glimpsed this side of her? Was there a time when she revealed it, only to retreat in regret, vowing never to expose that vulnerability again? Or perhaps she herself remained unaware of its existence? Concrete evidence eluded him, yet his intuition, deep in his bones, pulled him towards the uncharted territory of her soul. He sensed the presence of hidden aspects, waiting to be unveiled, longing to be witnessed. Could he be the sole unraveler of the mysteries within her, or would it require both of them, hand in hand, to unearth the hidden facets of her being? His yearning to comprehend her completely fueled his curiosity and sparked a shared desire for a journey of discovery. Together, they could unravel the layers that obscured her true self, revealing the intricate depths beneath. In their connection, he respected her autonomy, recognizing her ability to determine the extent to which she would unveil herself to him, including, potentially, hidden facets yet undiscovered even by her own self.

These conflicting desires burdened his conscience, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Could he possibly pursue his own self-discovery while striving to understand her? Or would his focus on her become an escape from his own inner journey? The fear of losing her lingered in his mind—would investing his energy within lead to her slipping away? He questioned how she would perceive his transformation. Would she love him more as he embraced his true identity and pursued his passions? Or would she love him less, interpreting his introspection as a retreat from her?

Doubt and ambiguity gnawed at his very being. He contemplated whether channeling his energy towards nurturing his own development and authenticity might be a the only real choice. In this intricate interplay of love and self-discovery, he understood the importance of striking a delicate balance. By honoring both their journeys, investing effort in understanding her while dedicating time to his own personal growth, he held onto hope that they could navigate the intertwined paths, fortifying their love and finding a harmonious union in supporting each other's quests.

[amisfitsmemoir]

Franny Choi, from “Catastrophe is Next to Godliness”

[amisfitsmemoir]

“Poet’s death”

[amisfitsmemoir]

Day 3

TW: disordered eating, weight loss/gain

“How did I get here again?,” just another defeated whisper into the mirror as he stared at his hanging, grotesquely swollen abdomen.

It wasn’t clear to him exactly where here was, but one thing cut through the uncertainty was an overwhelming sense of misery, isolation, defeat, rejection, lovelessness, and unadulterated terror.

Emotions that ruthlessly clawed at his soul, reminiscent of the agonies he endured during his tormented childhood. Despite his fragmented and elusive memories, the haunting power of those emotions could not be denied.

He had tried desperately to expunge the memories from his very universe, but the indomitable strength of these emotions proved relentless. No matter how far he fled, they pursued him with unwavering persistence. Every single time, without fail, he found himself ensnared in their grip.

[amisfitsmemoir]

Day 2

TW: sex, BDSM, ace/allo marriage

"Fuck, I hate it when a cisgender, white woman makes me cry," he muttered, his voice brittle and choked with tears that stung his eyes. He cast a fleeting glance at her face, which wore a flat, anxious expression, before turning his gaze back to the television. "Ugh, sorry, not you…" His voice trailed off, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Unbeknownst to her, that moment marked his realization, a painful acknowledgment that it was always the cisgender fucking white women who had the power to reduce him to tears: his mother, his ex-lovers, her. It was a grouping he knew would strike a chord with her, but it held little relevance and was a truth he deemed unnecessary for her to bear witness to.

The battle waged fiercely within his mind, torn between conflicting emotions. On one side, he rejoiced in witnessing her transformative journey over the past three years—a metamorphosis from a quiet, mousy girl seeking approval to the obstinate, headstrong woman she aspired to be. It was one of the most profound blessings he counted in his life. Yet, alongside this elation, a void gnawed at him—a yearning for a physical intimacy they may have lost amidst her self-discovery. He longed to taste her, to savor her essence. He yearned for the sound of her voice when he gently pressed against the indentations on her wrists, missed the intoxicating confidence that surged through him as he possessed her, the trust she bestowed upon him to explore every crevice of her vulnerability. He craved the depths of connection they had yet to plumb, the uncharted territories of their union that he had envisioned.

Ever since she shared her indifference toward sex, guilt had consumed him whenever his mind ventured into provocative realms. He showered relentlessly, hoping to cleanse the filth from his racing thoughts. He understood that her asexuality was not about him, yet reconciling his own emotions with this shift proved arduous. Should he mourn the loss of these desires? Was it time to explore the uncharted chapter of their relationship, to forge a new path?

Every day, the term "asexuality" found its way into his search history. He sought to comprehend, to discover stories of allosexual individuals in flourishing, thriving marriages with their asexual partners, yearning for the day when he could craft those narratives himself. Perhaps there existed a universe where both could coexist, but he lamented and wondered if there were parallel dimensions where he could still taste the divine contours of her thighs upon his shoulders, where her golden essence dripped from his lips.

[amisfitsmemoir]

Day 1

In the distant corner of his right eye, a faint incandescent light pierced through the dusty lampshade, casting a soft glow. It wasn't overly bright, but its presence unsettled him, triggering an unexplainable unease. She had a preference for the lamp, while he held no strong inclination.

The lamp it is," he thought, acquiescing to her choice.

He had lost count of the times he had attempted to love himself, to summon genuine desires from within rather than preferences born out of sensory discomforts, the lingering imprints of past traumas, and expectations imposed upon him by others.

"Maybe this time could be… different," he silently whispered to the lamp that blinded him. Even in the confines of his private thoughts, he couldn't fathom being anything more than tolerable.

Running his dry, cracking fingertips along the rugged scars etched across his chest, he let out a weary sigh. It wasn't his resilience that he questioned; he had no doubts about his capacity to endure, adapt, and face whatever lay ahead. It was his worth, his beauty, his charm—or the perceived lack thereof—that stubbornly stood on trial. Reflecting upon the multitude of paths he had traversed in his thirty years, a creeping fear entwined his thoughts, whispering that they all led to different houses but the same suffocating room, each one distinct yet eerily familiar.

In a last-ditch effort, he opened his computer. His gaze fixed on the blinking cursor, poised against the stark white page. The cold cathode fluorescent light emitted a reassuring glow, its familiar hum a rhythm that echoed through his being. Maybe, just maybe, if he wrote it down, if he chronicled his journey…

…and in that fleeting moment, he heard the sharp click of the lamp's switch being turned off. The room plunged into darkness, the encroaching void seeming to close in around him. With a hint of defeat lacing her voice, she declared, "I'm going to bed." He couldn't help but notice the defeat echoed within him as well.

"To bed it is," he thought, surrendering to the shadows that enveloped the room, his mind heavy with unspoken desires and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.