#However i feel like it's quite too absurd for someone like satan

[inb4belphienaps]

so i’ve been writing some stuff for diavoloxsatan based on the barbatosxsolomon story i did (which i’ll link here and here)

this is the first part and unfortunately, it doesn’t have smut but!!!! that’ll be coming in the second part hehe

Diavolo laughed behind his teacup, his golden eyes forming crescents as his mind ran through the events that had unfolded before him. It wasn’t unusual for Asmodeus to show up at his castle unannounced, but the timing had been a little too opportune. He had already had his suspicions when his watch showed that the pair had been missing for more than ten minutes. Clearly, it had been something rather important.

So when Barbatos returned, taking his utmost care in trying to feign composure, Diavolo figured it better that he investigate. He watched Solomon closely, admiring the sorcerer’s ability to keep such pleasantries despite his questionable morals, and found the surface rather lukewarm. Humans, immortal ones at that, were rather cunning, weren’t they?

But he didn’t like the discomfort radiating from Barbatos. He was a simple man with a tendency to put others’ needs before his own. He was also someone Diavolo cared for dearly and any lines crossed with him, were lines crossed with the future king.

Solomon’s personality tended to have him make pointed comments here and there, which were still carefully considered to a point. Unlike MC who could meander through different topics of conversation like water, Solomon could have it come to a standstill, only relenting after he’d gotten what he was looking for.

He watched as Solomon too, put up a front and tried not to appear overtly relaxed. Taking a bite of one of the desserts Luke had brought, Diavolo could see the answer staring back at him, as clear as day. Yet the absurdity was enough to make him think twice. What else could explain the strange atmosphere or the way in which Barbatos couldn’t meet Solomon’s gaze for more than two seconds?

How else would they have disappeared for such a prolonged period of time when he was unaware of any other matters the two had scheduled previously? Why else would Barbatos’ normally pristine uniform look a tad out of place? The more he inspected their micro-expressions and the words left unsaid between them, the more Diavolo realised that Barbatos wasn’t going to tell him anything.

Simeon noticed it too – Diavolo’s watchful eye and Barbatos’ timid nature amusing him to no end. Had Solomon not been directly involved, Simeon thought, he would’ve found a similar amount of entertainment. And his fans wondered where he got his inspiration from.

“Do you mind if I come with you to the House of Lamentation, Asmodeus? I have more to discuss with Lucifer.”

Asmodeus offered a sly smile, his perfectly manicured hand that had been resting on Solomon’s shoulder now perched under his chin.

“By all means, Lord Diavolo. I’d be delighted to take you.”

And with that, the pair left. He knew Barbatos would find a way to have the residents of Purgatory Hall also bid their farewell. Solomon had looked quite satisfied before their departure, like a feline basking in the glory of a successful hunt. If worst came to worst, he could, however, rely on Simeon who wasn’t one to overstay his welcome.

As he walked quietly beside Asmodeus, he thought to himself – it was obvious what they’d been doing. The reason for it though, Diavolo had to be sure. In all the years he’d known and worked alongside Barbatos, he knew the man to be of discipline, never one to abandon his duties. Was Solomon capable of triggering this oddity all by himself?

“What a pity I didn’t get to try any of Barbatos’ treats today.”

Diavolo hummed, his expression composed and his eyes steady while he looked into the distance – sentiments not quite caught by the fairer demon.

“Feel free to drop by again later. I’m sure he’ll be able to make you something.”

An offer that made Asmodeus squeal. He was awfully excitable at the best of times and it was this naivety that he admired in the other. If his father had taught him anything, it was how to read people. And to get answers, it helped to be patient. During moments of familiarity, secrets tended to slip out, worming their way through cracks that had until that moment appeared invisible.

“Lucifer’s probably still in his office. As much as I hate to leave you all on your lonesome Lord Diavolo, I do have a party to get ready for.”

“Thank you for accompanying me, Asmodeus. I hope you enjoy your party.”

With the wave of a hand that signalled he would, Asmodeus ascended the stairs, carrying a trail of perfume in his wake. Diavolo stood at the entrance for a second, barely able to catch the fading footsteps of the former as he followed behind in his stead. Dare he risk getting caught snooping just to tail Asmodeus? These demons could be a real pain to deal with regarding his personal decisions and defensiveness seemed to run amuck in the family.

As luck would have it, Lucifer was not at his desk but rather draped over one of the armchairs next to it, having dozed off while listening to some music. The poor thing looked exhausted and already a plan was beginning to form in Diavolo’s mind.

He bent down to remove the needle from the record player so Lucifer could snooze in silence. Except the movement alone caused the eldest brother to stir, red eyes coming into focus and going wide at discovering Diavolo’s silhouette in front of him.

“Shit, is it time for our meeting already?”

Lucifer quickly got to his feet, pinching the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand and wondering why it was that he’d managed to fall asleep. Sure, exhaustion tended to creep in on him at all hours of the day, but his magic could usually keep it at bay. That and the fact that he was a demon – a being with resilience and power to spare. Being caught like this was just humiliating.

“Not to worry, Lucifer. I didn’t come here for anything urgent.”

“Oh…”

A beat of silence and some confusion followed.

“Then…why are you here?”

Diavolo chuckled, a light rumble that caused Lucifer’s eyebrows to furrow a tad further. Was he going to be punished for sleeping on the job? Was it going to be cruel and unusual?

“I’m here to insist that you take a vacation.”

Oh no. This was indeed both cruel and unusual. Was this Diavolo’s way of saying he was fired? He was much too kind to say it outright. Or perhaps he was going to be replaced by someone younger, less likely to be lulled into slumber. He shuddered at the thought and put his paranoia off on his recently awoken state.

“A vacation? Lord Diavolo, around this time of the year is when we’re the busiest. I don’t think me taking some time off would do any of us any good.”

And he smiled. The princely bastard had the nerve to smile.

“This being the busiest time of year is precisely why you should take a break.”

“But then…but who in the Devildom will you find to fill in for me?”

The man brushed a spot of imaginary dust off the little display the record player was on. Lucifer felt his brain kick into overdrive as he tried to remember if he’d wronged Diavolo as of late, whether he’d crossed an invisible line or worse, whether he’d seemed inept.

“Satan.”

Satan?

Lucifer spluttered, his voice coming out a tad more indignant than he’d intended.

“I don’t understand. Although he’s a member of the student council, you’ve never asked him to do something like this before.”

“Why not start now?”

He frowned, completely at a loss for words.

“Lord Diavolo, please. If there’s something I’ve done, something I’ve said- “

“Lucifer, my friend, we are well past the stage of childish antics like that. I trust you as much as you trust me. I’d simply like for Satan to fill in for you for a couple of weeks.”

Was that really all there was to it? He had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t, but who was he to pry. So, he relented. Perhaps there’d be something he could enjoy from this – starting with Satan’s suffering.

“Shall I relay the news to him then?”

The record started playing once more despite neither of them moving to do so, and Diavolo nodded, not a sliver of emotion betrayed him. Suddenly it felt hilarious. Was Satan going to suffer the wrath of Diavolo? Then again, Diavolo tended to ask things of others that Lucifer would never think to ask. Right. Maybe this was a good thing.

“I’ll be sure to stop by later once I’ve arranged a few things. If you could tell him before then, that would be great.”

A wicked smile graced Lucifer’s once drowsy features and Diavolo loved to see it. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

#obey me writing #soon to be diavolo x satan #obey me diavolo #obey me! diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #my writing 🐇

[seokstrivia]

Euphoria | jjk

❥ Summary; There was always a sign on Jungkooks’ door that said something along the lines of, ‘Warning; I am naked in here. Do not enter unless you're ready to see a whole lot of dick.’   

or, that one roommate au where Jungkook is a cocky bastard.

❥ Roommate!AU | M.list | word count; 7.6k

❥ Jeon Jungkook x Reader; angst, douche Jungkook, enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, smut, he’s actually a softie

» He, him, his «

Jungkook was, how you say, a dick. A dick you despised and wanted unquestionably nothing to do with. And yes, you did always hate him, without reason, but hated from the beginning nonetheless.

It all began when you moved into the accommodation for college, your mom helped you unpack then kissed you goodbye, and everything was fine— for five minutes.

Dickwad, also known as, Dickhead and maybe sometimes, douchebag, sauntered into the flat with music blaring out of his, lovely friends’, speaker.

Lovely friend, aka Park Jimin, is, and always will be, an absolute darling you doted on without fail.

Anyways, when Jungkook stepped into the flat as if he owned the damn place, the first thing he did was throw a wink your way and then proceed to claim his bedroom— the very bedroom you claimed first.

Obviously, it was an absolutely ridiculous point to bicker over, but you’d lost it as soon as he called you babe, followed by a prissy princess, to end his absurd argument.

You were absolutely fuming by this point, and the heavy music resonating throughout the flat gave you the biggest headache you’d ever experienced in all the years you’d been alive.

That was when you wordlessly declared your hatred for him. When you decided you were going to make his life a living hell, and when you decided you were going to store lego in his room— just so he could undergo the pain you had to go through.

It wasn’t even good music.

Ever since then, you’ve never liked Jungkook, never wanted anything to do with him and cursed him in your dreams every night— which didn’t seem to work, you definitely needed to purchase a voodoo doll.

» His Friday night «

A yawn parted your lips as you zoned in and out, you were currently attempting to do your homework, but Jungkook— the devils incarnate— was being as loud and intolerable as usual.

He had been on the phone to one of his friends, talking about a party he absolutely had to go to. But it wasn’t unusual, Jungkook made it his priority to go out partying every Friday night, more so, to end up in someone's bed.

The thought itself had you shaking your head in distaste— like a mother disapproving her sons' grades or overall behaviour.

It had a sigh leaving your lips.

Jungkook stepped out of his room in all black: black jeans, black t-shirt, black leather jacket, and to finish off the look, a black cap.

You would be lying if you said he didn’t look good, but that was something that would never leave your lips. He didn’t deserve to know. You cursed yourself for even thinking it.

“I take it you’ll be stuck inside studying like the nerd you are,” Jungkook snorted.

There was a horrible, eye-wrenching smirk on his awful face. Who did this thing think he was?

“At least I’m not sleeping around and giving people aids.”

He jeered in return, a scowl on his face while he pierced into your soul, and presumably, set it alight.

God, you were infuriating.

Jungkook left that night without another word, he didn’t have time to sit and argue with you— which you were extremely thankful for because you were far too stressed to even think about him.

Another sigh broke your lips as your focus fell back on to your textbook. You were failing one of your classes— a class you needed to pass in order to complete the year, however, you didn’t understand anything your lecture taught you.

And what annoyed you, even more, was that Jeon Jungkook, who didn’t attend any of the classes, was passing with flying colours. If anything, your nightly curses were probably backfiring on to you.

You groaned. Life was not being fair. Not at all.

» His banana milk «

Jungkook was annoyed, more than that, he was angry and about to throw the biggest fit at the age of 21.

Yes, it’d really come to this.

His banana milk was missing, no matter how many times he checked the fridge, it wasn’t there. He bought that with his own money.

You stepped out of your bedroom, a chewed up straw perched in your mouth as you continued to scroll through your phone.

All the studying made you feel a bit peckish.

But you couldn’t exactly reach the fridge, or even step into the kitchen, since Jungkook was blocking the way with his oversized muscles.

He took the straw out of your mouth, thoroughly examining it before glaring into your eyes with his fiery red ones— yes, they were actually red. It’s not an exaggeration.

“Can I help you?” You asked in a monotone.

He grumbled under his breath, tossing the straw aside and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did you drink all of my banana milk?”

Jungkook was never angry, he was bothersome and got annoyed but never angry. Or you just hadn’t experienced his wrath until now.

“Who gave you permission to touch what’s mine?” He continued, his voice getting deeper.

“Why are you getting so worked up over banana milk?”

“Because!” He shouted making you flinch. “Banana milk is the only thing I look forward to every single day. Don’t touch what’s yours.”

Your eyes were wide in shock, he wasn’t the most intimidating guy— not with his bunny smile, but after seeing his true form of red eyes and devil horns, you decided never to touch his banana milk again.

You even bought you a new pack the next day.

» His mess «

There were empty cans everywhere you looked, empty packets of snacks, dirty dishes, as well as, unwashed laundry, and it all belonged to the one and only Jeon Jungkook.

The amount of mess he made was actually insane, there was no one in this world who was as messy or messier than him. It inflicted you with endless headaches and made you feel sick, how could someone live like this?

A lengthy sigh left your lips, it had been a long day at uni, plus you still weren’t passing your failing class, so all in all, it wasn’t going well. And to make matters worse, the flat was a mess.

Thanks, dickhead. I hope you choke on your banana milk, you grumbled.

If there was another place to stay, somewhere you could move to, or someone else you could live with, you would move out in a heartbeat— without so much as a second thought.

But no, luck wasn’t on your side like that.

“You know when you invited me over, I didn’t think it was to help you tidy up,” sassed Jinyoung.

You rolled your eyes at his comment before throwing a dirty sock in his direction. He was utterly appalled and deeply insulted that you’d done that, but you were too busy laughing at him to care.

Jinyoung was your best friend, you’d known him since the beginning of high school, he’d always been there for you, you knew everything about it him, and he knew everything about you— including your satanic shrine set-up to get rid of Jungkook.

He was about to retaliate and launch Jungkooks boxers at you when the front door swung open. Both of you watched Jungkook throw his bag aside before strolling into his room, he didn’t even notice you were there.

“I mean, my couch is always free.”

You snorted at Jinyoungs effort to make you feel better, “you’re so annoying.”

There was a smug expression on your best friends face, his remark successfully annoyed you and he felt great— even though, he truly meant what he said.

You were always more than welcome to stay with him, and you knew that.

Jinyoung helped you tidy up, leaving the pile of unwashed laundry to decay in front of Jungkooks’ door. He would step over them and ignore they were there, you’d seen him do it before, but there was no way in hell you’d do laundry for him.

Cleaning up empty cans and packets was enough.

“Next time, we should dump all the trash on his bed,” Jinyoung remarked before making himself comfortable on your bed.

A laugh split your lips as you handed him his ice cream, “he would either sleep with it or let it rot on the floor.”

“Have you ever been inside his room?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Not really...”

Jinyoung hummed in response, now focused on his ice cream instead. He didn’t question you further, because maybe he knew you were just a little, tiny bit, curious to see how it looked.

After minutes of silence and simply appreciating your ice creams, the both of you lay on your bed, doing nothing except staring at the ceiling, saying nothing besides listening to each other’s breathing.

It was peaceful, the nice kind of peace that wasn’t heavy or boring. These kinds of moments with Jinyoung were your favourite, the kind where you could bask in each other’s company without having to say a single word.

You rolled over to face your best friend, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling fan, following the way it twirled endlessly. He was a handsome boy, he was a sassy boy, and he was also a very kind boy, but he was single.

And you sometimes spent hours thinking about why.

“Jinyoung, will you ever get into a relationship?” You asked with sheer curiosity.

His eyebrows furrowed together and the expression of distaste won over his content features, it was quite amusing to watch if you were honest.

He always made the funniest faces without meaning to be funny.

“Does it look like I want to waste my precious time trying to please another human when the only one I need to please is myself?”

Jinyoung could’ve ranted for hours, he could have gone on and on and on about how he doesn’t need anyone. Which is why you changed the subject and spoke about how heavy Yugyeom snored throughout the last lecture.

It had the two of you laughing aloud, bringing tears to the eyes as you both proceeded to simultaneously list the funniest things that have happened.

Being with Jinyoung was better than a lot of things.

“Oh my gosh, did I tell you when Jungkook got angry at me for drinking all his banana milk?” You wheezed.

Jinyoung snorted and burst out laughing, shocked at your roommates' behaviour over milk— and it being banana flavoured.

“Why don’t you threaten to drink all his milk if he doesn’t clean up after himself?”

You quirked an eyebrow at his suggestion, that didn’t seem like a bad idea at all, you thought to yourself. After spending hours on end with Jinyoung, you finally said goodbye to him after telling him to text you when he got home.

Jungkook stepped out of his room when he heard the last goodbye, faltering over the pile of dirty clothes in front of his door, he complained to himself while continuing towards the fridge.

Banana milk!

Silently, with an evil grin on your lips, you trailed behind him, “Jungkook,” you called making him flinch over how close and loud you were. “You gotta start cleaning up after yourself. You’re disgusting.”

He sneered, piercing the carton with his straw, “and if I don’t?”

“If you don’t, I’ll drink all your banana milk.”

There was genuine panic in Jungkooks eyes that night.

» His hoodies «

A yawn broke your lips, eyes drooping at the sound of your lecturers' boring voice. She seemed to go on and on and on about who knows what?

This was the class you were failing, there was no time for you to be falling asleep, but you couldn’t help it, she was so dull and it was hard to concentrate.

Jinyoung who was seated next to you was too busy throwing paper balls at a fast asleep Yugyeom, he didn’t care about this class either, but he was failing like you.

You huffed to yourself, resting your chin on your hand which was hidden under your sleeve. Well, it wasn’t your sleeve per se, it wasn’t your hoodie to begin with.

It was Jungkooks’. His loss though, right?

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, you stole it, but he hadn’t noticed yet, it’d been three days and he hadn’t even asked if you’d seen it anywhere.

Therefore, no harm is done.

“I gotta ask again,” Jinyoung whispered while rolling another paper ball. “Why did you steal his hoodie if you want absolutely nothing to do with him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you retaliated in a loud enough whisper.

Jinyoung snorted, throwing another ball at his friend.

What you didn’t notice, and your best friend did, was the way Jungkook had been staring at you, attempting to figure out where he’d seen the hoodie you were wearing.

Good thing he wasn’t that smart, Jinyoung shook his head before focusing on packing his things and leaving the lecture hall with you in tow.

➴➶➴➶

You were humming a tune to yourself in the kitchen while preparing a sandwich, something light to munch on while you studied— or at least tried to.

Jungkook came behind you, glancing over your shoulder to see what you were doing before ‘accidentally’ knocking your elbow.

“Oh! Sorry,” he exaggerated when he heard you gasp. “I didn’t see you there.”

A scowl crossed your features when the words left his lips, he was so, so, so, irritating. You hated him, you hated him, you really really hated him.

“You did that on purpose,” it was a swift argument back. “You’re such a dick.”

Jungkook snorted, standing tall with his eyes piercing down into yours, “always bringing my dick into any situation you can, aren’t you?” He tsk’d. “I’m not the one going around steal other people’s belongings.”

“What—“

“First my banana milk and now my clothes. What next, hm? I bet you would’ve stolen my virginity too if I was still a virgin.”

God, he was so infuriating.

“As if I would ever have sex with you.”

Jungkook leant in, bringing his face level to yours, his lips merely inches away, eyes staring darkly into yours and his warm breath melting into your skin.

He was so close. Too close.

“Liars go to hell, princess.”

You gulped. There was a definite glint you’d never seen in his eyes before— in anyone’s eyes. It wasn’t scary but it made you feel something you’d not felt in a long time.

Arousal.

“I’ll let you keep this hoodie since it looks good on you,” he spoke up again, but his voice was still low and very deep. “However, if I notice you take something else, I won’t let you off so easily.”

He left you with an unfamiliar and wet warmth that night.

» His revenge «

A loud groan parted your lips, the thought of studying for another hour was hurting your head. Three hours had to be enough, for now, right?

You turned to glance at your alarm clock which sat on your bedside table, next to your phone that had been buzzing constantly for the past half an hour. Jinyoung.

It was 8:33pm. A good time as any for a snack.

After stretching your very rigid muscles, you bounced off your chair and happily made way to the kitchen. Jungkook was in his room, probably wanking off or something, so he couldn’t bother you right now.

Not even the horrible weather could put you in a bad mood.

However, however, however, you couldn’t find your snacks anywhere. They were normally kept in a box on the bottom shelf in an empty cupboard, but that box, which was on the bottom shelf, was empty.

There was nothing inside it, and there definitely should’ve been because you bought so many new snacks the night before.

Honestly, you could’ve cried. Feeling irritation, anger, as well as, sadness, you stormed towards Jungkooks room and pounded on the door, ignoring the warning sign taped on the wood.

“Jungkook!” You whined. “I never touched your banana milk again, why did you steal all my snacks?! How could you?”

There was a genuine sad pout on your face when he swung the door open, he would’ve felt bad if it were someone else, but it was you, and you hated him, so why should he feel any sympathy towards you?

“You can always buy more tomorrow,” he told you.

“I can’t afford to,” you fought, not with anger, but sadness. “Those snacks were supposed to last me two weeks, you ate them all in one night.”

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’s just a bit selfish, isn’t it?”

You’d mumbled it quietly, not really wanting him to hear, but he’d heard and he tried so hard not to feel guilty.

After stammering an apology for bothering him, you gradually progressed towards your room, leaving Jungkook to think about what he’d done.

» His punishment «

You were extremely annoying, continually having something to say back to him, always bickering with him, and calling him names, but never, not once, did you ignore him.

Over the months of living together, he figured out you hated him, but you didn’t pretend he didn’t exist, you didn’t ignore his presence, no. You bothered him and cursed him out and made sure his life was living hell.

Of course, Jungkook was extremely annoyed at you for being so irritating, but he enjoyed the bickering. Albeit he’d never tell you.

He groaned at another failed attempt at getting your attention. You were sitting on the floor trying to do your homework, head resting on the coffee table, doing your utmost best to ignore the monster behind you.

Jungkook genuinely wanted you to bicker back with him, although he didn’t really know why he wanted your attention, he just knew he wanted something.

“Y/n,” he whined, foot nudging your thigh closest to him. “Please argue back with me.”

Ignoring him was harder than you thought, you were so used to instantaneously throwing an insult back that you had to mentally tape your mouth shut.

Jungkook gave up that night, it was no use. He was basically talking to a brick wall. Leaving you study by yourself, he left with an exhalation.

You watched him with a triumphant smile, but you felt as though you missed out on something.

» His turn «

It was raining, but you couldn’t hear the pitter patter like you normally could. There was a movie playing on your computer, but you couldn’t hear the dialogue like you should’ve been able to.

All because of Jeon Jungkook and his stupid loud, extremely bad music.

A groan withdrew from your lips (which you couldn’t even hear) as you let yourself drop back into your pillows. If you weren’t still ignoring him or at least trying to, you would’ve body-slammed him out of the window.

You must’ve done something awful in your past life if you were being forced to live like this now, you uttered to yourself as you stormed towards his room.

Jungkook was overdue a long list of insults.

There was no point in banging on his door since he wouldn’t be able to hear you, you couldn’t even hear yourself breathe. So, for the first time since living with him, you barged in.

Wrong move...

He was in nothing but his boxers, sure he wasn’t naked, but he wasn’t exactly fully clothed either.

The sight in front of you, however, wasn’t a disturbing one. The way his back was propped on his headboard, the way his eyes focused on his comic book, the way his head bopped to the song, it was all notably attractive... for some reason.

Jungkook glanced up and saw you staring at him in shock, a smirk would’ve propelled its way to his lips, but he was annoyed that you’d been ignoring him, more so, that you barged into his room without knocking— he would never do that to you.

Turning down the volume, he sat up, “can I help you?”

You swallowed at the hoarse sound of his voice, what was going on with you right now? Why was he suddenly so attractive? Wait, was he always this good-looking?

“Your music is too loud,” you mumbled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and paused the song before getting off his bed, and advancing towards you with a glare on his face.

He stared down at you, arms crossed, “it’s off, you happy now?”

You nodded your head, eyes gazing intensely into his. If he wasn’t so bothersome, if he didn’t aggravate you and if you didn’t despise him. You were 100% certain you would’ve fallen in love with him.

Jungkook snorted at the expression on your face, his features softening as he tousled your hair before gently closing the door.

There was a funny feeling in your chest when you went to sleep that night, followed by a funny feeling in your chest when you woke the next morning.

There was a basket of snacks perched neatly in front of your door, a note hidden beneath a box of chocolates, Jungkook was seriously out for your heart.

» 2 drunks, 1 mistake «

It wasn’t unlike you to give up studying, but it was unlike you to say yes to a party Jinyoung wanted to go to with you. He was surprised you’d given in so easily, but, over the moon, he didn’t need to beg you.

“Are you planning on getting wasted?” Jinyoung snorted as he observed you tan another drink.

He raised an eyebrow, watching you shake your head in distaste to the strong taste. Alcohol wasn’t your favourite, but it did its bit to encourage you to have fun.

You gradually began to let yourself go as the drink within you gave you a step of confidence. Jinyoung watched you dance in amusement, plastic red cup in one hand while his other held his phone, recording you at that moment.

A smile presented a way to your lips when you twisted around and spotted his phone. The flash gave away the fact he was recording, maybe on snapchat to post on his story, maybe something to laugh about the next day; whatever it was, you didn’t care.

“Jinyoung, dance with me,” you urged, motioning for him to join you with your hand.

He shook his head, not because he didn’t want to dance, but because he wasn’t drunk enough to deal with you right now. However, he was enjoying the sight of you completely losing yourself and finally, after a long time, giving in to have fun.

Jungkook was on the other side of the room, drunk himself, seeing you have fun without him. It didn’t take long for him to muster up the courage to approach you, not when the alcohol was giving him a helping hand.

“Y/n,” he cheered, gaining your attention. “Let’s dance!”

Without so much as a second thought, you began dancing with him. Eyes wavy and mind hazy, the night went on with Jungkook by your side.

It wasn’t until your back hit the cold wall, you felt Jungkooks’ warm hands wander your body. His lips were on your neck, wet and slick, your hands were pulling his hair, urging him to go faster, to hurry up and stop teasing you.

“Jungkook,” you moaned earning a growl in return.

He stopped his ministrations on your neck, and led you towards his room, pushing you to lay on the bed while he stripped out of his t-shirt, threw his jeans aside and then crawled towards you.

Jungkook kissed you slowly but intoxicatingly, his hand moved down your form and glid under your dress, exploring and touching everywhere except where you needed him to touch you.

“Jungkook,” you muttered against his lips. “Please stop teasing me.”

His eyes were dark and glazed as he stared into yours with so much lust, want and need. An exhalation escaped your lips when he connected his lips back to your neck, hand slipping into your pants, taunting your clit.

You heaved at the ministration, writhing beneath him, silently asking for more. For anything, for something. He removed his hand, pulling your dress up along with his hand that progressed towards the back, reaching for the zip.

“Take it off,” he whispered in your ear in a low growl. “Let me see you.”

Your breathing got heavier as you watched him sit up, allowing you to move and take off your uncomfortable dress. Just like that, in slow and precise movements, the dress slipped off and hit the floor.

The alcohol from earlier was still evidently in your system, otherwise, you would have never crawled towards Jungkook and drawn him for an intoxicating and needy kiss.

Jungkook pushed you to lie down again,  so he was on top, so he could assert dominance and let you know that he was in charge and always will be.

It didn’t bother you, not when he knew what he was doing; when he was so confident in the way his hand wandered down your body, towards your heat.

Another moan parted your lips, music to Jungkooks ear. He decided there and then, after hearing you call out his name breathlessly into the night, that it would be his favourite sound.

“I bet you thought you about me every night,” he muttered in a deep, drunken, voice.

You could only nod your head, afraid that your words would get stuck in your throat due to the pleasure he was causing you.

There was no uncertainty in Jungkooks’ movements when he slipped a finger and then another into your heat, he revelled in your moans and whines, urging you to get louder the faster he pumped his digits in and out.

His free hand played with your breast, his lips nipping the skin, forcing you to squirm under his ministrations, it felt so good— amazing even, but you wanted more, needed more.

“Jungkook,” you gasped out, pulling at his hair to gain his attention. “Please, just fuck me already.”

There was a smirk on his face, a glint in his eyes as if he’d been anticipating for you to say those words. As much as he loved teasing you to no extent, he needed to feel you, to be inside you just the way he dreamt about.

He didn’t hesitate to pull off his boxers, to yank your pants down your legs, to line himself off and without a single warning, push himself deep inside.

Jungkook left you feeling breathless that night, he had you coming undone more than once and he left you feeling fully satisfied as he came deep inside.

No other words were exchanged when he drew you into his chest and lulled you to sleep with beating heart and warm body.

» The aftermath «

The next morning you woke up sweating, you had a sore head and felt sick to your stomach, forcing yourself out of bed and rushing to the closest bathroom. You heaved but nothing came out as your head hung in the toilet and your naked form sat on the cold tiled floor.

The night before was all a haze, and trying to remember what happened while sitting next to the toilet wasn’t a good idea. However, it all hit you when you stepped out of the bathroom; into the room that wasn’t yours.

You felt yourself break into a cold sweat, your eyes scanning the room before settling on a familiar face— another body just as naked as yours.

The sick feeling hurried back, but it wasn’t because of the alcohol, no, this time it was regret and the fear of allowing yourself to become another girl on Jungkooks list.

What had you done?

➴➶➴➶

Jungkook went on as if everything was normal; as if nothing had happened. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do so, not when you were sinking in newly developed feelings for the male who didn’t believe in commitment.

An agitated sigh parted your lips, you couldn’t sleep, not when the drunken night with Jungkook played on loop whenever you closed your eyes. Fortunately, Jinyoung was nice enough to let you stay the night at his, but you couldn’t stay here forever.

“Are you ever going to speak to him about this?” Jinyoung inquired, examining the dark circles under your eyes from no sleep.

There was a frown on your face when you turned to look at your best friend, “how can I?” You disputed. “He’s acting as if nothing happened, Jinyoung. You don’t understand, Jungkook doesn’t do relationships.”

“Ignore him then.”

A scoff left your lips, that was easier said than done you thought.

“I can’t,” you told him, eyes cast aside.

“Then confess.”

This time you met his intense and challenging gaze, “just because I know that Jungkook likes to drink banana milk after uni, or that he likes to eat cereal at 3am after gaming because he feels peckish, doesn’t mean I like him,” you were out of breath, heart racing as you spoke.

Jinyoung snickered in return. You gulped.

» The regret «

It was pouring while you waited for your roommate to get home. After speaking to Jinyoung, you decided he was right and you couldn’t keep pretending that you were okay.

The front door slammed shut, interrupting you from your thoughts. Jungkook kicked off his shoes and threw his soaked jacket aside. His hair was wet, and there was a frown on his face, but he looked as cute as ever.

He didn’t notice you were back home, not until you stood up and muttered his name. His eyes widened at the sight before him, you’d left without a single word and came back three days later as if it was a reasonable thing to do.

“Where have you been?” He demanded.

Jungkook was angry.

“I stayed over at Jinyoungs.”

He shook his head in disapproval before running a hand through his dripping hair. The feeling still lingered in your own hand from that night as you watched his movements.

“And you didn’t bother to tell me because?”

You licked your lips, eyes meeting his dark ones, “I’ve never had to tell you before,” you fought. “Why does it matter now?”

“You’ve never been gone for three days.”

His tone was getting louder, angrier and more irritated. But you were becoming angry too; who did he think was? Especially acting as if nothing had happened between you two.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Jungkook. I don’t need to tell you anything, it’s not like I expect you to tell me when you’ll be home after a night out,” you said, eyes gazing intensely into his. “Now let me ask you something, is it fun to act like everything between us is normal? You know very well why I disappeared for days.”

Jungkook scoffed, arms crossed over his broad chest as if asserting dominance, “we had sex, so what? Everyone has drunk sex now and then.”

“I’m not everyone, you asshole!” You shouted. “I don’t go around having sex with every girl and guy I see. You’re the second person I’ve ever had sex with, I know it’s not a big deal to you but, it means a whole lot to me.”

Jungkook licked his lips.

“You wanted to have sex with me just as much as I did with you. Don’t blame all this on me.”

“I’m not! Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you!”

It came out before you could think twice about saying it, the words slipped out in anger, you really didn’t mean to say it. But now that it was out in the open, there was no point in taking it back, so you waited; waited for Jungkook to speak.

Instead, however, he uncrossed his arms and cast his eyes aside. Your heart dropped into your stomach and you felt sick, dizzy almost as you watched him hesitate.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t do relationships.”

» The awkwardness «

Jinyoung was trying his best to be there for you, you were struggling to pass the one class you hated and Jungkook was, well, avoiding you at all cost.

A yawn escaped your lips, it was becoming harder to keep your eyes open as minutes slowly turned into hours. If you decided to call it a night and go to sleep, you would never pass your exam.

At that moment, you really wanted to scream and cry. Shout at the world for not being on your side since the beginning of the school year, why was it so hard on you? What did you do wrong?

An exhausted cry left your lips while you slumped back in your seat. The words in the textbook stopped making sense hours ago, Jinyoung was no longer awake to help you and you had no one else to turn to.

Feeling extremely agitated, you closed the book and hurled it away from you, almost hitting Jungkook while doing so. He stared at the textbook by his feet and chuckled to himself before glancing at a very distraught you.

“Are you struggling that much?”

His voice was soft and somewhat comforting, but it was awkward and you couldn’t bring yourself to glance at him, so you hesitantly nodded your head instead.

There was a kind smile on his lips that you missed when he sat down next to you. Not too close because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but close enough to help you.

“What do you need help with?” He urged placing the textbook back on the table.

You sighed in defeat, “everything.”

Without hesitation, Jungkook started from the beginning and helped simplify the text. He made it easier to understand, besides the awkward silences that took place in between, you began to understand what you once didn’t.

And thanks to Jungkook, you were confident when it was time to sit the exam. Safe to say, you finally passed the class you hated as much as you once hated your roommate.

Although it was still very awkward between you, Jungkook stopped avoiding you. He didn’t say much— not like he used to, but you didn’t make an effort either since you still had a lot on your mind.

Still, things were getting better.

» The silent reconciliation «

You were lying on the floor with the balcony door wide open, the cool air from outside wasn’t enough to stop you from over-heating as the sun beamed through the window.

The weather got nicer as the days passed by, summer vacation was just around the corner and you knew you would have nothing to do. So, you decided to mope around earlier rather than later, Jinyoung wasn’t too impressed when you told him.

“You’re not a cat,” he told you.

“You can’t do that all summer,” he said.

A shake in disagreement had him rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

There were crumbs littered around you with empty packets of crisps and cans. A smile adorned your face as you watched the male lead finally kiss the female.

Jungkook entered the flat to you on the floor, surrounded by a mess and a grin on your face. The drama you were watching wasn’t even that good, he grimaced hearing one of the many cheesy lines.

He proceeded towards the fridge to get his banana milk before settling into the couch; to join you. To enjoy your company for once instead of locking himself in his room.

“How can you watch that without cringing?”

Jungkooks’ question made you laugh, you sat up to look at him and shrugged your shoulders. There was something about the way you smiled at him to the way you crawled towards him to sit on the couch.

Jungkook gulped.

He didn’t even notice you were wearing nothing but an oversized shirt— an old one that once belonged to him.

“It’s not too bad, you get used to it actually.”

Jungkook glimpsed at you from the side of his eye before focusing back on the tv. Your confession was still fresh in his mind, playing like a broken record over and over again.

You never mentioned it again, mainly because he avoided you for like a week and you found it too awkward to talk to him. But things seemed to be okay now, he thought.

“What do you like to watch anyway?” You asked, shifting to look at him.

Jungkook was surprised by your question, but thinking about it, neither of you knew anything about the other.

“Iron man,” he told you.

A laugh parted your lips at his response, the way he said it with such an innocent face made him look like a child. It was cute.

Silence took place once your focus was back on the tv, there was nothing much to say or talk about. You’d never spent time like this together, although it was nice, it wasn’t normal.

You licked your lips, mind full of thoughts and such as you got off the couch. Perhaps, you still felt a little bit uncomfortable around him, not because he was sitting next to you, but because your confession was gnawing at your mind like a parasite.

“Where are you going?” Came his question.

It took a lot in you to turn around and stare at him, to make eye contact and to fake a smile. Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to catch on, to think about what he asked and awkwardly avoid eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” was your response. “It’s still a little bit difficult to be around you. I just need some time for things to go back to normal.”

What if I don’t want that, he thought to himself. What if he didn’t want things to go back to normal, what would you say then?

“But,” you added with a genuine smile this time. “I think I like this better— being friends instead of constantly bickering.”

Jungkooks’ smile in return was just as genuine.

» A new friend «

“UNO!”

Grumbling in irritation of possibly losing another round, you picked up 4 cards and then internally cried when you watched Jungkook throw down his last card.

There was a frown on your face when you threw your nine cards in his direction. When Jungkook suggested playing Uno you didn’t think you would lose every single game.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” you pouted.

That night Jungkook learnt you disliked losing.

➴➶➴➶

One hit. Two. Three more.

Six.

“Y/n, stop throwing popcorn at me and watch the damn movie,” he laughed when you hit him again.

There was a mischievous grin on your face, he wasn’t paying attention as his eyes were back on the tv. You took this as an opportunity to take a handful of popcorn and propel it at him, Jungkook shouted your name before chasing after you.

That night Jungkook learnt you got bored easily.

➴➶➴➶

You were in Jungkooks’ room, he had his last class today so he wasn’t home. Not yet, anyway. So, you took that as your chance to invade his closet for another hoodie, another black one.

When he got home you were still going through each hoodie, narrowing it down to three and then two and then choosing the one you liked best. Although all of them looked the same, there was a different comfort to each of them.

Jungkook had banana milk in his hand, straw in his mouth as he observed you from his doorway. There was a wide grin on his face while he watched you try the last one on.

“Are you seriously stealing my clothes again?”

You pursed your lips, preferring the last one you tried on better than any of the others and then smiled in triumph.

“At least it’s not your banana milk,” you teased before sliding off to your room.

That night Jungkook learnt you liked his hoodies better than your own.

➴➶➴➶

You lay your head on Jungkooks’ shoulder, a yawn broke your lips as you attempted to stay awake. It had been a long day, and you were exhausted.

Especially since Jungkooks’ loud friend had woken you up so early, Namjoon was his name you think, or was it Taehyung? You couldn’t quite remember.

It didn’t matter though, you would be in your bed soon, you just needed to wait for Jungkook; he wanted to say bye to his friends before leaving the party youse were currently at.

However, they were nowhere to be seen.

“Jungkook,” you muttered earning his attention. “I’ll head home, you can stay a little longer and hang out with your friends.”

His eyebrows furrowed in thought, “are you sure?”

“Of course!”

There was a smile on your face, a genuine one at that, but you did feel a little sad that you two weren’t walking back home together. No matter, you’d see him the next morning considering you lived together. Duh.

Jungkook watched you stand up and stretch your arms, he missed your warmth already. He let you gather your things, sliding on your jacket before reaching for your bag.

Luckily, it wasn’t a big party and just a friendly get together to celebrate the end of the school year. Well, one of many yet to come.

“I’ll give Jinyoung a call and talk to him on my walk home, that way it’ll feel like a faster walk,” you said before heading towards the door.

Jungkook hesitated for a second, glancing around in quick movements his friends really were nowhere to be seen at that moment, so he thought what the heck, and rushed after you.

You were surprised to see him, considering he was eager to say bye to his friends since they were going back home for summer break and he wasn’t.

“I promised you we would walk home together,” he explained before you could question him. “Let’s go.”

That night you learnt that either Jungkook kept his promises, or you meant a whole lot more to him than you thought.

» Euphoria «

There was a soft smile on your face, mind zoning in and out as your eyes slipped closed every few seconds before you opened them once again.

It was a nice evening, Jungkook thought as he admired you from his place on the love-seat. You were on the floor, leaning against the balcony railing, appreciating the view, savouring the nice weather and listening to the bustling city.

The idea of spending the rest of the evening on the balcony was your idea, Jungkook merely agreed because he had nothing better to do, except drink banana milk, and right now, spending time with you deemed sweeter.

There was a smile on lips as he appreciated your features from his seat. The setting sun, golden with soft hues of oranges, hit off your face perfectly making it seem as if you were glowing.

Jungkook felt his heart beating loudly in his chest, drumming in ears and spinning in his mind while he thought about you and your confession.

Was it too late to bring it up? Maybe, maybe not.

You turned around to face Jungkook, smiled wide and genuine before moving to stand in between his legs. He thought you were beautiful when you smiled without a reason; when you smiled at him and for him.

He thought you were most beautiful when you were yourself, not caring a single bit about what others thought of you.

“Jungkook, if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

It was an innocent question because you were genuinely curious to learn more about him, and get to know him better than you already did.

Jungkook stood up, eyes gazing down into yours.

“If I could have anything in the world, I would choose you.”

A gasp left your lips, you weren’t expecting that to be the answer. You thought he would speak about a dream job or a lifetime supply of banana milk. Not you.

He gently cupped your cheek with one hand while circling the other around your waist to draw you closer. You didn’t push him away, you didn’t stop him, no. Instead, you let him do as he pleased because, for the first time, you felt the racing of his heart.

“I don’t know if you still feel the same way about me, but I’m in love with you, y/n,” he confessed. “I know I told you that I don’t do relationships, but I’m willing to try and succeed with you, and... And I know I didn’t go by things the right way, and I’m really sorry, buh—but I’ll be better. I’ll do better... for you. Always.”

Without hesitation, without a single thought of reconsideration, you kissed him. You kissed him with tenderness and passion, you kissed him slowly and softly.

And he kissed back with just as much.

There was a soft smile on his lips when you parted, and for the first time, you saw genuine love and care in his eyes.

That was when you felt intense happiness.

“Of course, I love you, Jungkook,” you spoke softly but surely. “You’re my euphoria.”

➴➶➴➶

« thank you for reading, feedback is always appreciated. »

#bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts smut #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts au #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpop au #euphoria

[mirandalinotto]

I am asking out of mere curiosity, and (of course) feel free not to respond if it triggers you, but in what ways do you think Nicks arch with Lucifer wasn’t respectful/good/ not masterful? (Not that I am saying that it was)

I really appreciate you giving me an out here, so that I don’t feel like I have to respond, but I think I’ll try my best to answer without getting too deeply into why my own experience of rape trauma syndrome informs my reading of the way they handled that metaphor. Just know that it does and I’ll leave it at that before talking solely about the show.

I’m going to put the rest of this under the cut just in case my breakdown is triggering to anyone. This will not be a complete or exhaustive list of reasons—just the ones off the top of my head. I’m too tired to go back and rewatch things to properly cite my opinions.

Proceed with caution. Discussion of trauma and trauma recovery below.

First, Nick’s time with Satan inside his body is portrayed in the most overly-sexualized way possible, featuring a strenuous, well-oiled, half-naked wrestling match between an adult and a teenager (or an actor who is meant to be portraying a teenager... although Nick Scratch is canonically way older than Sabrina... so what the fuck are they doing having him be with a 16 year old? Anyway. I digress).

However, when Faustus Blackwood later experiences the same “violation,” he is fully clothed and they have a more intellectual, rather than physical, altercation going on. The fact that they didn’t make Richard Coyle take off his clothes and wrestle, purely for the sake of consistency, tells me that the sexualization of Satan being “contained” by Nick was done purely to titillate the audience with Gavin Leatherwood and Luke Cook’s “sexy” bodies. 

(I put ‘sexy’ in quotations because I find absolutely nothing sexy about the wrestling scenes).

So, what I think is disrespectful here, among other things, is that they used a rape metaphor as a way to titillate the audience, and they were inconsistent about it.

Second, It bothers me that the writers of CAOS repeatedly traumatized the adult female characters with implied rape, abuse, and psychological trauma, but it is COMPLETEY IGNORED, meanwhile Nick is given a half-assed trauma recovery arc. Where was Zelda’s recovery arc after the Caligari spell? Where was even an acknowledgment of the fact that Lucifer intended to rape her the night before her wedding? Where is Lilith’s trauma recovery after 5,000+ years of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse? Where is Mary Wardwell’s recovery arc after being told that she had been strutting around Greendale for 5 months, meanwhile the last thing she can remember is seeing a movie the week before Halloween?

What I’m getting at here is that Nick having Satan inside his head is given more narrative weight than any other traumatic thing that has happened to the female characters. Nick is given a trauma arc, while women who have suffered far worse trauma* are expected to carry on like nothing ever happened. It places Nick’s trauma above Lilith’s, above Zelda’s, etc., because the writers sat around a table and decided that the one character who would be allowed to exhibit signs of PTSD would be the young man, as opposed to literally any of the women.

Third, while engaging in risky behaviors is an extremely common occurrence after someone has experienced trauma, they explore this in the most sexualized way possible. Nick gets whipped by sex demons as a kinky way to show that he’s trying to erase the “touch” of the Dark Lord. Now, they could’ve just had him request this and then disappear into the room, to imply that he was engaging in risky sexual behaviors, but no; they had to SHOW it, because why pass up an opportunity for kinky traumatized sex?

Anyway, my point here is that they could’ve implied Nick was cheating on Sabrina without showing him getting tied up and whipped. They could’ve cut away, so as not to use a sign of trauma for views, but they didn’t.

Fourth, the way the Weird Sisters talk to Nick is just vile. I won’t repeat it here, since I put this point in my earlier post, but if people didn’t catch the rape metaphor before this conversation, they absolutely would after it, especially with such lines as “how does it feel to have been with Sabrina and her daddy?”

This is getting long, and I’m getting tired, so I think I’m going to leave it there. I don’t think the storyline is respectful because it sexualizes and sensationalizes Nick’s trauma at every opportunity. I also think it’s absurd that they chose to explore Nick’s trauma at the expense of Zelda and Lilith’s own trauma recovery.

And, not for nothing, all signs point to the fact that the trauma recovery arc will be dropped immediately in Part Four, so they quite literally had no intention of actually seeing that story line through to a meaningful conclusion.

TL;DR if you’re going to do a rape metaphor, you should have enough respect for the sensitive topic to not sensationalize it for views.

*Trauma isn’t a competition. Trauma shouldn’t be compared in real life the way I’m doing it here. I’m saying in the context of the show, Lilith has suffered for 5,000+ years at Lucifer’s hand, and she’s not given an opportunity to process that trauma, because the writers would rather sensationalize trauma in a younger male character instead.

#nick scratch #rape tw #rape trauma syndrome #abuse tw

[7-wonders]

Naked & Afraid

Summary: You finally (unwillingly, like everything else that’s happened to you since that night in the parking lot) meet your father-in-law in what is arguably some of the weirdest circumstances you’ve ever dealt with.

Word Count: 3734

A/N: What, Claire finally updated Mad Love? Hell must’ve frozen over and pigs are surely flying! Feedback is always appreciated (even the h8ers; bring it on hunny I’m always up for a throwdown), and if you liked this chapter I would love if you would reblog and/or leave me a comment!

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE

Every single thing about Michael Langdon and the life that he lives is the epitome of luxury, so it comes as no surprise that the en suite bathroom that has been deemed yours is just as opulent as everything else you’ve seen. After an incredibly long week that’s seemed to stretch for months, the large, ornate bathtub is the only thing on your mind. After Michael cut dinner short tonight, an issue with the Cooperative requiring his attention, you found yourself sitting on your bed and trying to figure out what to do with an unexpected free evening. Your head is still spinning after everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, and a long bath is where you tend to do your best thinking and decompressing. Today, especially, there’s a lot to think about.

The sound of rushing water fills the bathroom and echoes off of the large granite walls (who has granite walls?). Sticking your hand under the steady stream, you fiddle with the knob for a few moments before finding your ideal temperature. The bathtub starts to fill quickly, and you pour a generous amount of some fragrant lavender bubble bath into the water. You sit back on the balls of your feet, waiting for the bath to fill to your desired depth before rushing to turn it off. Glancing one last time to make sure you remembered to lock the door, you yank your clothes off of your body before sinking into the bath.

You sigh audibly once the hot water covers your body, the heat immediately going to work at relaxing your muscles. Relaxing against the back of the porcelain tub, you turn your phone on to play some music and stare up at the ceiling. There’s a chandelier, because of course there is. Although the signature black is prevalent throughout the room, you’re pleased to see some accents of purple and silver as well. Your thoughts, which can never just remain on one topic for an extended period of time, quickly shift to what’s happened yesterday and today.

The major thing is, of course, the kiss that you shared with Michael mere hours ago. More specifically, why the hell did you reciprocate the kiss? He certainly didn’t use his magic on you; even if you didn’t know what magic felt like when it was used on you now, the stern warning that you would beat his ass scared him enough to not even consider it. But, it’s not as if you like him. At best, you’re starting to tolerate him. That doesn’t mean you’ve ever thought about kissing him before, no matter how soft his lips actually are.

Maybe it was a lapse in judgement? Or maybe drunk (Y/N) was still lurking in the darkest recesses of your mind, just waiting for a moment to come out and screw everything up. A single kiss does not equal attraction of any kind. Michael’s arrogant, nosy, doesn’t understand boundaries, is the literal Antichrist and, to top it off, kidnapped you to be his unwilling bride. But at the same time, he obviously didn’t have a very loving or normal childhood, and he’s been used as a puppet by so many: Ms. Mead, the Satanists, his father. You don’t empathize with him, or even excuse his actions due to what he’s gone through. You do, however, understand why he acts the way that he does; maybe that makes all the difference.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but it’s obvious that you did. One moment, you’re relaxing in a bathtub and pondering how weird your life has gotten, and then you blink and you’re here. Well, wherever ‘here’ is. Everything’s dark, as if you’re standing outside in an empty field with no sign of stars, the moon, or any lights. Your eyes take a minute to adjust, but even then you’re still unable to see any sign of life. Although you can’t see anything, you can feel that something, or someone, is here with you.

The hair on your arms prickles, goosebumps rising as you feel a pair of piercing eyes watching you. The worst part, though, is that you can’t tell which direction they’re looking at you from. Just when you turn around to try and catch them, the feeling’s from behind you. It’s everywhere: Your back, your arms, your side, your face. At times it feels like you’re nose to nose with this entity, even though there’s nothing there. Your breathing picks up, nervously coming out in visible puffs as you wrap your arms around yourself. Looking down suddenly, you’re grateful that you’re not still naked in this dream (or vision, or premonition). You’re wearing the same clothes that you were wearing earlier today, almost as if you had dressed yourself while asleep.

As far as you can tell, you’re alone. That is, until you’re not. You spin around in a slow circle one last time, shrieking loudly when you come face to face with a man. A small smile has his pink lips upturned, showing his amusement at your fear. He’s tall, tall enough that his neck is bent in order to look at you. His unruly black hair somehow manages to look like he styled it that way, and his hazel eyes seem to flicker and crackle with sparks. You stumble backwards, desperate to put some space between you and this stranger. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, reminding you of how Michael looks when he smells your fear in the air.

“Who are you?” Your voice, although you attempt to sound strong, comes out shaky and hesitant.

“I am known by many different names, and I possess many different faces.” He quips, taking one long step closer to you. “Mmm, but of course you would not recognize me as I am now, right, sweet (Y/N)?”

“How do you know my name?”

He doesn’t answer. In a split second, he’s changed from the man with the mop of black hair to a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, a trimmed beard on his face. If it weren’t for the same sparks in his eyes, you would have thought it was a completely different person.

“Does this not work for you, either?” His form changes again, to that of a teenage boy in an ill-fitting sweater and ratty jeans. His blond hair hasn’t been combed in a while, but he has the same brown eyes as that of the man before him.

“Stop doing this!” You snap, half-tempted to smack him.

“Oh, but I think you will quite enjoy this next form.” Suddenly, Michael stands before you. It looks just like the Michael you know, except for those eyes. Michael’s eyes, the real Michael’s eyes, lack that odd flame in them that this person has.

“Change back.” You say through gritted teeth. You’re not sure why the sight of him makes you feel so odd, but it does.

“You are no fun at all.” He sighs, reverting back to the original form that you first saw him in.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. Who. Are. You?” Your hands are balled into fists at your sides, and you can feel your nails digging into the calloused flesh there.

“‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’” He quips. It sounds familiar, what he’s saying, but you have no clue where you would have heard something like this before. “Why did you react the way that you did when I assumed the image of my son?”

“Your son? Who’s your…” You trail off upon realizing the only person that he could possibly be referring to as his son. He smirks, knowing that you’re hoping with every fiber of your being that he’s not who you think he is.

“Such a smart woman you are, (Y/N).” His voice drips with the same saccharine that tempted Eve when she stood at that lonely tree in the Garden of Eden, listening to the lies of the serpent as he whispered in her ear that the Forbidden Fruit would provide her the same knowledge that God himself possessed. “Surely you have heard some of my names. Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Lucifer--” he cuts himself off, and the grin that he shoots your way has you shuddering at the mere sight of it, “--Satan.”

“You can’t be, I--how am I here?” There’s so much about this situation that’s wrong, but for some reason your mind latches onto the sheer absurdity of waking up in an actual hellscape.

“My dear, I’m the Devil. A mere parlor trick is all it took to get you into my domain.” He spreads his arms wide, proud of the desolate landscape that stretches ahead for miles and miles.

“I’m not your ‘dear.’” You retort, eyes widening when you realize that you just sassed Satan himself. Instead of stealing your soul and banishing you to the Ninth Circle of Hell, which is what you’re expecting, he stares at you for a moment before laughing loudly.

“See, everytime I think that I chose the wrong mortal to be my son’s companion, you prove to me that I made the correct choice.” He seems proud of himself, standing tall and with his chest out.

“You ruined my life with your ‘choice.’”

Satan’s face falls, and he takes another step closer to you. “I have given you the opportunity to be great!”

“You stole my free will!”

“Thanks to me, you will rule the New World side-by-side with Michael. You are the missing link to bring about our plans for the Apocalypse. My son, as I am sure you have noticed, is all too human. I blame his mother; gentle, impassioned Vivien did not pass many things down to Michael, but she did manage to give the boy an overly caring heart. He needs someone to fulfill his heart’s desires, and who better than the one who was handpicked for him?”

“The Apocalypse,” you scoff, choosing to ignore the last part of his spiel for now as you look the Devil right in the eyes. “Why do you even want to bring about the Apocalypse? Once everyone’s dead, there’s no more new souls for you to torture.”

“Hell is not just made up of the souls of the damned, (Y/N). Legions of demons, swarms of locusts and scorpions, plagues that mankind has long since forgotten. My domain shall no longer be restricted just to Hell. Instead, Hell, and all of her beasts, will wreak havoc upon the Earth.”

“You want to kill billions of people, just so that you and your buddies can get your jollies?”

“Chaos and disorder are what keeps the world running. I am merely trying to make sure that only those who can survive the most chaotic of situations will populate the New World. Which, might I remind you, you shall have a hand in ruling.”

“I don’t want your fucking crown or kingdom.”

You go to whirl around, hoping that there will be some door that you missed when you first woke up here, but you’re faced again with Satan. When you try to back away from him, a ring of flames encircles both of you, effectively trapping you with him. He snatches your wrist, and your eyes widen at the sharp talons digging into your skin.

“Did your mother never teach you that gratitude is a virtue?” His voice comes out as a thunder, shaking the very ground that you stand on.

You really should tone down the sass and backtalk, but you can’t help it when a man as arrogant as any you’ve ever met stands mere inches away. “That’s really rich, coming from the literal Devil.”

“You foolish, insolent little girl. You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he loosens his grip on your wrist, allowing you to snatch your extremity back from him. You rub the skin, visibly marked and bleeding in areas where the talons pierced through, as gently as possible while trying to gain some feeling back into your tingling hand.

“I embody the seven deadly sins,” he continues. “I can become your greatest desire…”

You haven’t been looking at him while attending to your wrist, but your movements stop at the sudden change of voice when he reaches the end of his sentence. Moving your eyes slowly upwards, you let out a harsh breath when you’re greeted with Michael’s smirking face. The Michael doppelgänger slowly walks towards you, lifting a chilly hand up to your face and caressing your cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” You mutter, unable to look away from his cerulean eyes.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” even his mocking tone sounds just like the Michael that you know, “don’t play coy with me. I can see into the deepest parts of your soul. That purity that you try so furiously to embody, tinted black in some areas. You desire me, even though you hate to admit it.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” He whispers, breath ghosting across your face while he moves even closer to yours. “The very essence of your being calls out for me, just as I call out for you. We were created for each other. No matter how much you try and fight it, we belong to each other. Soon enough, your mind will give into what your soul already knows.”

“Stop it!” You shout, shoving him away from you.

Satan goes stumbling back, caught off-guard by your sudden attack and nearly topping into the flames. When he rights himself again, he has a devil’s grin plastered across his original face.

“As I was saying, I can become your greatest desire, but I can also transform into your worst nightmare.”

He starts to shift and change, body convulsing as bones grow from out of nowhere. Satan’s no longer a man, although was the title of ‘man’ ever one that could be bestowed upon him? Instead, he’s a horrific, imposing creature with multiple heads that almost looks like some sort of dragon.

“‘And I saw a beast coming out of the sea,’” he bellows, all of the heads combining their voices to form a roar that has you clapping your hands over your ears. “‘It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.’”

Vaguely, you realize that the heads are quoting some part of the Book of Revelation, but you don’t have time to wonder about if the Devil has the Bible memorized when the heads of the beast unhinge their jaws, showing off their gaping maws and the dim glow of fire being conjured from deep in their belly. As the heads start to lower towards you, you drop to your knees and let out a blood curdling shriek.

Michael senses your panic before he hears your terrified screams. He springs up from his plush leather chair in his office, abruptly ending the phone call he was just on with a couple of world leaders. Your screams permeate the air, Michael’s heart pounding in terror at what you could possibly be experiencing right now. In his mind, there’s no time to waste. He blasts the bathroom door open the moment that it comes into view, hoping that you’ll forgive him for barging in on you while you’re nude.

Your subconscious, which Satan had pulled into Hell the moment your eyes slipped closed for longer than a second, had jolted back into your body upon sensing your imminent demise. In your panic, you had slipped under the water, inhaling mouthfuls of it as your lungs tried to breathe normally again. Your hands cling to the lip of the tub, almost like you’re worried that something will swim up from the depths of the bath and attempt to drag you back under. Alternating between screaming and coughing up the water that has invaded your lungs, your eyes remain clenched tight.

Michael reaches for you before his mind can start to think about the repercussions of doing so, arms slipping under your body and pulling you out of the water. His suit is soaking wet now, but he doesn’t care. He’s never seen you like this before, so terror-stricken that you can’t even open your eyes, and it shakes him to his core. You thrash against his firm chest, sure that Satan has shifted back and captured you in hell. It’s only when you hear his frantically calm reassurances that your body stops writhing.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s fine. I’m here, nothing can hurt you.” He soothes you, waiting patiently for your eyes to flutter open.

“Michael? It’s...it’s actually you, right?” Your voice is meek in a way that he’s never heard before.

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Your eyes fill with tears at the memory, and you shake your head before burying your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. “What happened to you?”

The only sounds you make are the small whimpers that slip past the barrier of your mouth, floating to Michael’s ears. His fingers go to your back, freezing when he remembers that you’re naked. Hesitantly, he grabs a towel and wraps you in it, though you’re still too shocked to even care. Michael holds you tightly against him, rubbing circles on your back and listening to your heart to make sure it evens out. It takes a while, but it slowly manages to go to a rate that wouldn’t have an Apple Watch alerting its owner of a possible heart attack.

“(Y/N), is it okay if I get you dressed?” If your head wasn’t pressed against his chest, he wouldn’t even be aware that you had nodded in response to his request, the movement was so small.

Michael can tell that the steady metronome of his heart is calming to you, so he remains silent while he runs another towel through your hair. He’s gentle with you, almost like you’re a wisp of smoke he’s managed to capture in his hands; one wrong movement, and you’ll disappear. He helps to tug the black nightdress over your head, looking up at the ceiling while he inches it down past your thighs until you’re modest. A wave of his bejeweled hand makes the bathtub start to drain, the sound of the water level receding helping to fill the silence of the bathroom.

You’re exhausted, although you’re not sure if it’s from the near-drowning that still has your lungs feeling like they’re burning or the fact that Satan literally had you in Hell with him. When Michael picks you up in his arms, you don’t even bother to protest what he’s doing. The covers of your bed have already been turned down, likely the work of a maid slipping in while you were first in the bathroom. Michael sets you down amongst the plush pillows and starts to pull the blankets up around you, but stops when you grab his hand.

“It was Satan.” You mutter, tired eyes gazing up to see his panicked reaction.

“What?”

“Lay down with me.” Patting the spot on the bed next to you, Michael slowly slips his shoes off before sliding in next to you. You smile slightly at how he still respects your space, fingers just barely brushing against yours in an effort to not piss you off. “I must have fallen asleep while I was taking a bath. It felt like I only blinked, and suddenly I was in this pitch black landscape…”

You tell him everything about the confrontation with his father, only leaving out the part where Satan accused Michael of being your greatest desire. He listens intently throughout your entire story, saving all of his comments for after you’re finished.

“Why did he show himself to you?” Michael mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Does he normally not do that?”

“I’ve never actually seen him before. My father has an...odd way of communicating with me, and that usually involves some sort of visions or rituals. I don’t understand why you’re--” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening while he lets out a sigh. “--he’s not pleased with either of us.”

“He couldn’t just have a friendly conversation with you instead of dragging me to Hell?”

“This was intended to be a message that would resonate with both of us. Would you have taken me seriously if he had spoken to me during a ritual?”

“You already know I wouldn’t.”

“Then what better way to voice his displeasure than by getting the skeptic, the unwilling second part of this equation, to be the messenger?”

“I don’t understand why he’s not pleased, though. I married you. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael grimaces. “You’re far more headstrong than he thought you would be. I think, when my father was picking a bride for me, he imagined that she would be this demure little thing who faithfully worshipped Satan and had already accrued a body count by her eighteenth birthday. You are almost the exact opposite of that, and it infuriates him. Any wrench in our plans means more time that’s wasted.”

“What you order on Amazon versus what shows up.” You joke, chuckling when Michael stifles a smile. “C’mon, that was funny!”

“It’s time for you to get some rest, (Y/N).” Michael reminds you, stroking your damp hair back from your face. His clothes are no longer wet, and you briefly wonder if he used his magic to dry them before nerves seize your stomach.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me.” You plead, gripping his arm tightly with both of yours. Michael looks concerned, and you sigh. “I’m scared that he’ll get me again if I fall asleep.”

Michael’s arms wrap around you, securing you against his chest. That steady rhythm that makes up his heartbeat starts to calm you again, and you use the sound to ground yourself.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, I promise.” You can’t be too sure, considering how fast you drift off, but it feels like he lays a kiss to your forehead.

Michael keeps his promise, remaining with you until long after you’re asleep. When his own eyes start to slip closed, he allows himself to fall asleep next to you, protecting you no matter what.

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #*taps on microphone* are these tags on???

[madamebaggio]

It’s love!

Everybody can breathe easy now! Sansa Stark and Arthur Pendragon are not fighting anymore. However, the two singers can’t seem to stop talking about each other. Close sources claim that Stark is throughly charmed by the bad boy, “like she hadn’t been since Joffrey”. When asked about a possible duet between the two, the pop singer presented her condition: “Only if he learns how to dance.” So far, Pendragon hasn’t answered the comment.

Chapter 6

Arthur and Wet Stick were playing FIFA, while Back Lack and Percival drank beers and offered useless advice, when Nimue entered the room, grabbed the remote and put on some channel.

“Hey!” All the men protested at the same time.

“Your girlfriend is giving an interview right now.” She told Arthur dryly. “Watch it.”

Arthur cleared his throat, as all his friends turned their attention to him. “She isn’t my girlfriend.” He indicated unnecessarily.

“Because she’s a smart woman.” Back Lack snarked.

Arthur threw a cushion at him. “Shut up.”

“Thank you for being here today, Sansa.”

That brought Arthur’s attention immediately to the TV. As she exchanged pleasantries with the hostess, he let his eyes take her in.

She was ridiculously beautiful. That hair of hers… He’d never seen a red like that unless it came from a bottle. The blouse she was wearing was white and it showed off her shoulders and the thigh-high black boots were really working for her. And for him.

“Are you excited for your big presentation at the Grammy’s?” The hostess asked, a perfect smile on her face.

Sansa beamed. “Yes, I am. Uncle Benjen and I have been working really hard to make it special.”

“Can we have a clue of what song you’ll be singing?” The woman asked, sending Sansa a conspiratorial wink.

She chuckled. “No, I’m sorry.” She smiled to take the sting off the denial. “We don’t want to spoil the surprise. Let’s just say that uncle Benjen has been working on his moves.” She teased, making the viewers applaud.

“It must be amazing having such a legend as a family member.” The hostess said rather dramatically.

“Uncle Benjen’s always been extremely supportive of all of us. He is amazing.” Sansa agreed.

“And talking about Grammy…” The woman drawled, a sly look on her face. “Did you know Camelot was nominated for Best Metal Performance?”

Arthur snorted. It was quite obvious she’d been dying to ask that question.

To her credit, Sansa didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Yes, and so are the Direwolves.” She indicated. It was graciously done, indicating that her cousin would be there, and a prod to change the subject. 

However, it backfired, making the hostess decide to be direct. “How are things between you and Pendragon?”

“We aren’t fighting if that’s what you’re wondering.” Sansa replied smoothly. “We’ve settled our differences a long time ago.”

“But he’ll be there watching you sing. Does that make you nervous?” The woman pressed.

Sansa arched a brow. “Why should it?”

Oh, that coldly polite tone… Now that it wasn’t directed at him, Arthur thought it was even hotter.

“He’s the one that put the spotlight on you.”

“Agree to disagree.” Sansa said breezily. “But I have nothing to prove to anyone at this point. As I said, Arthur and I settled our differences.”

He was blown away by her class. Fuck, if someone said something like this to him, Bedivere would already be preparing himself to do damage control.

The hostess seemed unfazed. “Is Arthur, hum?”

“She’s like a dog with a bone, man.” Wet Stick grumbled.

“He covered ‘Soap Bubble’. I feel like I should call him Arthur.”

“Can we expect to see you and Arthur singing together? Perhaps any time soon?” The woman pressed.

“We don’t have any plans for a duet.” Sansa answered, unbothered.

“Would you like to have plans with him?” At this point she wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. It was clearly a question with double meaning.

Arthur saw himself leaning forward, eager to hear her answer to this question.

Sansa appeared ready to give another polite and vague answer, but then she paused. Arthur was distinctly aware of the silence around him, as his friends also waited for an answer.

The something he’d never expected happened: Sansa Stark, all-American princess, smirked in national television. “Only if he learns how to dance.”

The hostess was clearly caught by surprise with the answer and took a second to recover. She laughed. “I’d love to see that. This is Sansa Stark, everyone.” She called for applauses, as she promised something or another for when they returned from commercials.

Nimue turned off the TV. “I won’t play if you sing a pop song together.” She declared. “But other than that…” She shrugged.

Arthur sighed. “We won’t sing together.”

“How do you know, mate?” Back Lack asked. “She didn’t look that against it.”

She hadn’t, had she? Not for the first time, Arthur wondered what Sansa thought about all this situation. In the beginning, he was reasonably sure she hated him, but that he could get her forgiveness. After a while, he started to think she tolerated him.

Now… Now he was a bit worried about getting his hopes up. And the thing that freaked him out the most was exactly this; he was hoping. Hoping for her attention, hoping she didn’t think he was a jerk.

He wanted to impress Sansa Stark. The Sansa Stark.

It was absurd and still…

“Oh fuck.”

Percival snorted. “Took you long enough, mate.”

“Fuck you.” Arthur grumbled. “This is ridiculous.”

“We know.” Back Lack said as he munched on some Doritos. “You’re still hot for the princess.

“Just remember… Your kids will look great.” Wet Stick offered.

Arthur gave them all the finger and left. They were too busy laughing to notice.

XxX

“So… How are things with Arthur dearest?”

Loras snorted, as Sansa just arched a brow at Marge. “Arthur dearest? I’m pretty sure you called him ‘a minion of Satan’ not long ago.”

“That was before he started begging for your attention.” Margaery drawled. “That man wants you.”

Sansa snorted. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“Because you’re freaking out and need help.” Loras informed passing her a margarita.

Sansa sighed and eyed the glass. “I probably shouldn’t drink.”

“It’s just a glass, darling.” Marge waved her hand dismissively. “The question is: do you want him too?”

“I…” Sansa groaned. “I don’t know. I won’t lie; I am a bit flattered by the attention, but my last relationship was Joffrey.”

Margaery shuddered. “Ew. Are you worried he might be like him?”

“Joffrey was really charming in the beginning.” Sansa indicated. “He made me feel extremely special; he was attentive and nice. And we all know how that ended.”

Margaery hummed an agreement. “You do have a point. However, I’ve been keeping my ears open, and I haven’t heard one bad thing about our friend Arthur. Quite to the contrary.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Sansa snorted. “He does have something about him.”

“That he does.” Loras agreed. “But I also heard he isn’t the relationship kind of guy.”

“That’s not a problem, if you aren’t looking for that.” Margaery indicated.

“I’m a relationship kind of girl.” Sansa remembered her.

“Maybe you need a hot affair with a hot rockstar before you settle down.” Marge insisted. “Just a little something to blow some steam off.”

Sansa didn’t seem so sure.

“If you want to blow some steam off…” Loras drawled. “He’s definitely the guy.”

“But what if I’m not the girl?” Sansa insisted.

“You won’t know until you’ve tried it.” Margaery pointed out.

And Sansa caught herself considering it.

XxX

Arthur couldn’t play the piano for shit. He was a good guitar player, he could play the bass and even the drums a bit, but no piano.

Sansa played the piano. That was his dilemma of the moment, as he sat there and stared at the piano.

Nimue could play, and -technically- he could ask her to help, but he wasn’t interested in being teased again.

Hence, the dilemma.

The studio door opened and Back Lack came in. He threw Arthur a look, then sighed. He sat beside his friend and gave him one of the beers he had, then said nothing.

“I wrote a song for her.” Arthur admitted after one whole minute of silence.

Back Lack hummed. “Like a love letter?”

Arthur sighed and ran a hand down his face. “No. Not a song about her. A song for her to sing.”

Back Lack chuckled. “Mate, you got it bad.”

Arthur was thoroughly unamused. “Thank you, Back Lack, I’m aware.”

“So what’s the problem exactly?”

“I don’t know how to play the piano.” He indicated the instrument in front of them. “And it has to be on the piano.”

“Why?” His friend asked confused.

“Because she can play it.”

Back Lack sighed like Arthur was trying his patience particularly hard. “And you can't ask our help because…?”

“I'm an idiot?”

“I'm glad you acknowledge it. It's the first step, or so they say.” Back Lack patted Arthur's shoulder. “Now that's solved, when do you plan on doing something about her?”

“I don't even know what I plan on doing.” Arthur admitted.

“You're obviously trying to woo her with your music. Just show it to her.”

Arthur, who was about to tell his friend to fuck off -honestly, woo -paused. “I might.”

“When?”

“The Grammy is this weekend. Let's survive it first.”

Notes: Hey there!

I’m sorry for the total lack of correction, but I have no beta, so let me know if something is too bad.

Next chapter... THE GRAMMY AWARDS!

#madame baggio #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #modern au #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa x Arthur #theres no way

[aswellingstorm]

eyes wide open

summary: “when you can’t sleep, your soul mate can’t either. so the next time you’re laying awake, know that somewhere, someone else is laying awake too.”

an au where once you turn 17, you can’t get a wink of sleep unless you’re with your soulmate. the system is pretty flawed, so jughead jones is adamant that there’s no way on earth he’s lucky enough to have betty cooper as his soulmate.

read on ao3

Jughead Jones had been in love with Betty Cooper for as long as he could remember. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment that he realized it was love, all he can recall is that for the majority of his emotionally traumatizing, fucked up life there was a bounding light of pink pastels and hair that smelled like strawberries that anchored him--preventing him from ever going off the edge of existence.

He was more than content to stuff his feelings down and never look them quite in the eye. He knew he had to repress whatever it was that he felt, because Betty Cooper would never love him back. She was head over heels for the one and only Archie Andrews. Captain of the football team up and coming vocal artist-Jughead didn’t blame her. He was happy for her, he prayed Archie would give her the time of day and love her the way she deserved to be loved.

Archie never seemed to reciprocate but, Jughead rationed, it was just because he was too dumb to notice. 

Either way, Jughead could live a life of silently being in love with the girl who was in love with his best friend. He figured eventually he’d get over the intoxicating, bubbly blonde once he met his soulmate. he knew he didn’t have a chance with betty, but he still had a glimmer of hope for his future-one where he’d have a soulmate who could love him back.

That was all shot to hell when, after being the last of his friends to turn seventeen, he realized who his soulmate is. Everyone learns at different times, no one quite knowing for sure who their soulmate is until they lay side by side at night for the first time. 

The fateful night he was crashing at Archie’s when the latter invited Betty over for some ‘studying’. It was really a lame excuse for the three of them to hang out together, an idea that Archie ambushed Jughead with last minute. Truthfully, Jughead had been actively avoiding being in the same room as the two of them ever since he realized how deep he was in it for Betty. He couldn’t torture himself by forcing himself to watch Betty fawn all over Archie, but to his closest pals, it just seemed like he was being distant for no plausible reason. 

Everything was going fine until Archie got a message on his phone, a rather secretive one, that caused him to jump up and dart out of the room like a bat out of hell. He muttered something about being back in twenty minutes, but neither Betty nor Jughead quite believed him. Betty watched him go with sad eyes before getting off Archie’s bed and plopping down next to Jughead on his air mattress.

“Satan’s mistress beckons,” Jughead joked, hoping to ease some of the sadness in her eyes. In explicably, he began to feel a bit drowsy.

“Why does he have to lie to us,” Betty huffed, leaning back against the army of pillows Jughead lined up against the wall. “If he’s going to see Veronica, why doesn’t he just say so?”

Jughead wanted to point out that Archie keeps it a secret, or at least tries to, so he won’t break Betty’s heart. But he doesn’t, because he knows it’d only upset her further.

“Archie’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the box.” He was reclining comfortably against the wall of pillows, perhaps too comfortably because he felt if he blinked for too long, he wouldn’t open his eyes for another eight hours.

He swore he could feel his heart stop when Betty leans his head on his shoulder, bodies inches away to the point where they’re borderline cuddling. He urged himself to keep it cool and bring his pulse back to a normal rate when Betty asked, “Do you think they’re soulmates, Jug?”

Jughead knows his odds. He knows his own luck. He knows that Betty and Archie are picture perfect, a classic boy meets girl love story. He knows with every fiber of his being that it’s Betty and Archie who are soulmates. He thought he should comfort her by telling her that, but he can’t bring himself to admit it. Because a part of him still selfishly holds out hope for himself, and if he were to say that Betty and Archie were soulmates out loud, it’d make it all too real.

Instead, he lightened the mood with a joke. “Well, there’s only one way to know for sure,” he looked at her very seriously, “And that’s not the kind of sleeping together that Archie and Veronica are interested in at this given moment-ow!”

She pinched him playfully and they both laughed a bit before she exhaled, “I’m serious Jughead.”

Before he could really stop himself or think better of it, he turned to face her. Their eyes met one another as he said, “I think…I think Archie’s too blind to see what’s right in front of him.”

In the many days to come where he’d rake over every detail of this night, he might deny the way her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips. He’d swear he was just fooling himself, but Betty shifted a bit closer with her gaze fixed on him.

He couldn’t bear to let this continue, just to have it abruptly end and ultimately crush him. So he awkwardly cleared his throat, “I mean, seriously, remember when he tried to drink Elmer’s glue thinking it was milk?”

Betty giggled, pulling back a bit as she laughed and the moment was gone. “That was in kindergarten, Jug!”

“Pft,” he snorted, “Just the other week he told me he thought artichokes were a type of fish!”

She leaned back on him once again, providing a warmth he didn’t realize he was missing. His thoughts were getting hazier, and wow he didn’t remember feeling this tired before…

They stayed like that for quite some time, swapping stories that primarily poked fun at Archie. It was all in good fun, and while Jughead knew he couldn’t ever be enough for Betty, at least he could put a smile on her face…and was good enough for him.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep. It just happened, the best sleep he had ever gotten. It overcame him like a wave, engulfing him in a sleepy, warm haze. He couldn’t recall what he dreamt about either, too wrapped up in his feelings of pure content.

What he does remember is waking up the next morning with sunlight filtering through the window, illuminating soft lazy specks of dusk. His position had changed, he was laying flat on the air mattress and, wow was there a blanket tucked around him? Betty must’ve done that-

Shit. Betty. He sat up abruptly, or at least tried to, but Betty had tucked the blanket around him with apparent superhuman strength and he flailed a bit awkwardly at first. He blinked, looking around the room with fervor, but only found Archie judging him curiously from the bed.

“Bad dream, Jug?” he asked with a sleepy yawn.

“Where’s Betty?” Jughead’s voice was still thick with sleep.

Fred Andrews walked by the doorway just then, “Morning boys,” he shot Archie a knowing look to which the boy responded by looking at the ground sheepishly. “To answer your question Jug, after I realized Archie snuck out last night, I came up here to find you and Betty passed out on the air mattress.”

Jughead’s eyes widened and he felt his face heat up. “I woke her up and sent her home before I had Alice Cooper at my front door waving a shot gun in my face…but you were conked out pretty hard kid.”

Dumbstruck, all Jughead could say was, “Oh.”

Fred chuckled to himself, “I mean, you must’ve been exhausted Jughead. I’ve never seen anyone passed out like that ‘til they meet their soulmate.”

It was just a joke. One that both Archie and Fred passed by pretty quickly as Archie asked what was for breakfast. Neither of them focused on what was said-both knowing how it was too absurd to be true. Both of them knowing how obvious it was that Betty and Archie were soulmates, not Betty and Jughead. They breezed past the topic quickly, not thinking much of it.

Jughead, however, was a different story. He felt the world stop around him. He’d heard stories of people finding their soulmates or realizing their partner was their soulmate. He knew the tales, the most common question he had as a child was, “How do you know? What makes sleeping next to your soulmate different than…any other sleep?”

The response to his question was always the same. “You just know.”

As Jughead glanced behind his shoulder, looking out Archie’s window and at Betty’s across the way, god dammit he just knew.

Not only was he in love with Betty, but she was his soulmate. A part of him scoffed because, wasn’t it typical? He’d always have the worst luck in the world.

--

It was confirmed when he tried to fall asleep that night and found himself tossing and turning for hours. Insomnia wasn’t something new to him, but soulmate induced insomnia…that was a different story entirely. He was frustrated, mad at himself, mad at the world, mad at fate. He felt lonely too, like he was missing something. Knowing what that something was pissed him off too.

So he did his research, and Jughead Jones was nothing if not thorough. He calculated his odds of having a non-reciprocal soulmate. Google was his new best friend (but if he was being honest, when wasn’t google his best friend?) and he discovered that the whole system of soulmates was…pretty much bullshit.

So many people had soulmates that had other people as soulmates, some people never had soulmates in the first place. Some people never felt soulmate insomnia, so they’d never know who their soulmate was. Some people staved off their whole soulmate insomnia with chamomile tea and melatonin…. the system was pretty flawed. Jughead was nothing if not a pessimist, so he wound up concluding that he was one of those. Someone who’s soulmate didn’t reciprocate. In his mind, he was better off having no soulmate at all.

Couldn’t this one thing just work out for him? It was bad enough he was in love with Betty, but he always relied on the fact that he’d at least get over her and be with his soulmate someday…another dream crushed. If he was lucky, he’d get stuck in some loveless marriage with someone else who was in the same boat as him.

He remained sleepless for a few days, every day dismaying as Betty walked into school as pink and perky as ever before, a telltale sign that she was having a good night’s rest. More confirmation that he couldn’t be her soulmate, if he was then she certainly wouldn’t be so well rested. She hadn’t even mentioned that night, at all. If she was his soulmate, wouldn’t she have felt the same even if Fred woke her up?

He even decided to put it to the test one day. As she strolled into school with the usual pep in her step and ponytail bouncing behind her he baited, “How many cups of coffee did you have today?”

Betty smiled brightly at him, “My mom still won’t let me drink coffee Jug, you know that! I just slept really well, that’s all.”

He nodded slowly, “Of course, Betts, gotta get that REM cycle and all.” She laughed before Archie and Veronica walked over.

He excused himself hurriedly, walking away too quickly. He was a fool for even hoping. Betty probably slept so well because Archie was what, 20 feet away from her in the house next door? He wasn’t sure what the exact radius (if there even was one) for being close next to your soulmate while you slept but maybe Archie being so nearby is what helped her sleep. Or maybe they discovered they were soulmates and crept into each other’s rooms…

Either way, Jughead quadrupled his efforts in avoiding both Betty and Archie. If he was ever going to get over the fact that he couldn’t be to Betty what Betty was to him…he needed to lay low. He just needed to survive the rest of the year graduate, get the hell out of town, go to some college far away from the both of them and maybe if he was lucky, one day they wouldn’t be more than a ghost of a thought in the back of his brain.

So Jughead slowly began to pull himself out of their lives. He sat in the back of the classroom during the classes they shared far away from where they were sitting, ate his lunch in the corner of the library, and never responded to their texts. He kept his headphones on at all times in the hallway and pretended he didn’t hear them when they walked up to talk to him. They got the message within a few days.

And it hurt like hell. Archie was his best friend, after all. And maybe Jughead was being a douchebag, he should be happy for Archie, relieved that his best friend had such an awesome soulmate…but he couldn’t stifle his own feelings of jealousy. He was being selfish, and watching the hurt look in Betty’s eyes whenever he walked past her only wound up breaking his own heart.

It didn’t help that he wasn’t sleeping for more than half an hour every night. His body would more or less collapse from exhaustion, his mind shutting off for just thirty minutes. He missed Betty, missed the way she’d be the only one laughing at his jokes when the gang shared a booth at Pops, how she organized her pens on her desk in color order, the way he eye brows drew together when she was really focused on something…

He spent the hours he couldn’t sleep thinking about her and he hated himself for it, knowing he was only making matters worse for himself. But he just couldn’t get her out of his head. The lack of sleep made him extra irritable. Dark circles, bags, they all made themselves a permanent home under his eyes. He was having trouble paying attention in class too, a few teachers even called him out on it. He was tired all the time and had no energy to do anything outside of dragging himself to and from school.

With a heavy sigh, he walked through the doors of Riverdale High. The lights were disorienting and while he heard his fellow peers chatting in the hallway, all of their voice seemed to blur and mesh together. He felt like was going to be sick.

Everything came into focus and he became suddenly hyper-aware of everything when Betty, the source of all of his current problems, stepped directly in front of him. She blocked his path and looked rather upset with him. In a ballsy move, she reached up and tugged his headphones down to lay on his neck.

“Betty? What are you doing?” He was confused, and after his vision cleared, he felt himself feeling more tired than he had in the past week. He tried to focus on her, but found it increasingly difficult.

“What’s been going on with you Jug?” She tried to look him in the eyes but he looked at the ground. She reached her hand up and gently touched his face, fingertips grazing the soft surface of his skin. “You don’t look like yourself.”

To her surprise he recoiled back from her touch, it was just…too much. “I’m fine Betty, I have to go,” Jughead turned to walk away but Betty narrowed her eyes and grabbed his hand.

She mumbled something under her breath but he didn’t quite catch it. Instead she tugged him down the hallway impatiently, heading towards The Blue and Gold office. He could’ve pulled away or walked in the other direction but he felt the fight leaving his body. This was the closest he’d been to Betty in days and, coincidentally, it was also the best he felt in days.

Once inside the office, she left the lights off and locked the door behind them. She ushered him to sit in one of the rolling chairs and sat on the desk in front of him. The lack of sleep was catching up to him, and he leaned on the desk with his head rest in his hand. It was taking all of his strength to not fall asleep right now.

“I’m not letting you out of here until you tell me what’s wrong,” She crossed her arms and looked down at him, waiting. He could tell she was frustrated.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he lied breezily.

Betty narrowed her eyes at him in disapproval, “Nothing’s wrong? So you’ve just decided to start ignoring Archie and I for no reason then?”

Archie and I he winced, “Yup.”

“I don’t buy it Jughead!” Her voice was animated and louder and definitely shouldn’t be as soothing as it was to him. She was one decibel away from actually yelling at him, but if anything it was bringing him closer to sleep. Pitiful, is what he was. “You don’t talk to us for weeks, you don’t even sit with us at lunch! You avoid me in the halls, you ignore me, refuse to answer my texts and-! Now, look at you! You’re falling asleep as I’m talking to you!” she gestured to him wildly as he felt his eyelids droop down.

“Mmfph…just haven’t been sleeping,” he mumbled.

“You’ve been avoiding us because you can’t sleep?” She questioned doubtfully, “All of the sudden, out of nowhere, you can’t sleep and that’s our fault? I mean that’s…that’s ridiculous.” Her words were blurring together in his mind but he heard some form of realization in her voice. Betty was a smart girl and, with all of the puzzle pieces in front of her, he reckoned it wouldn’t take long for her to figure out. “Jughead, did you…”

Sleepily, he swayed forward and fell asleep before his head even hit her lap.

--

Sometime later, he awoke feeling the same way he did all of those weeks ago at Archie’s house. Warm, content…. complete. He could vaguely recognize fingers laced through his hair and smell warm vanilla, leaving him to linger for just a moment more. He savored the feeling before his brain caught up with him and he opened his eyes.

His head was much much clearer now. The clearest it’d been in weeks. He sat up in his chair abruptly, pulling away from the warmth he so desperately desired. He glanced at the clock on the wall, he’d only been asleep for about an hour and a half but…damn that was three times longer than he was used to.

He could feel Betty looking at him. She was practically staring holes into the side of his face and when he turned to look at her…she just had this look. Like she knew everything. All of the secrets he’d been trying so hard to keep, all the cards he played so close to the vest were exposed and laying open for her to see. She knew she was his soulmate.

Since he was thinking so clearly once again, it didn’t take long for him to remember that he wasn’t her soulmate. Was that sympathy in her eyes? He couldn’t bear to look at it. The last thing he ever wanted was for her to find out that she was his soulmate.

Because he knew Betty-her kindness knew no bounds. She’d taking being his soulmate as a responsibility, she’d try to take care of him and be there for him-she’d put her own life with Archie on hold just to make him feel better. He could foresee Archie getting jealous, a conversation about how Betty was too nice to let Jughead down where she’d refute she feels bad for Jughead because he has a soulmate who could never love him back like that. Her sympathy… being her pity project was the last thing he ever wanted.

Panicked at his secret being exposed, he quickly got up and grabbed his stuff.

She was staring at him with a baffled look on her face, “Jughead…where are you going?”

He shouldn’t have answered her. He should’ve just ignored her as he had been doing for the past while. But he retorted, “Uh, class? It’s the middle of a school day, Betty.”

He started to walk out the door when Betty asked, “Can’t we at least…talk first?”

Another opportunity to walk away that he blatantly refused. But, dammit, the world was unfair and he was angry about it. His anger was just a bit misdirected. “Talk about what Betty?”

Her green eyes looked confused, a little hurt at his tone and her eyebrows were raised as if to say, “the obvious?”

“What?” He snapped, “You want a pat on the back? You want a ‘congratulations!’ for figuring it out?” She looked confused when he continued on to say, “The world, the universe hates Jughead Jones, okay? I get it. I get the message, loud and clear, Betty. So there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I’m sorry, the world hates you?” She questioned, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not making any sense.”

He rolled his eyes, frustrated for having to explain, “The world, universe, fate-call it what you want, Betty. I don’t believe in any of it-whatever made you my soulmate is bullshit, okay? So just forget about it!”

With that he darted out of the room, leaving behind one confused and very broken hearted blonde.

--

He retreated into the trailer at Sunnyside, laying face up on the springy, uncomfortable couch. Lazily he tossed a tennis ball up and down trying hard not to think about what just happened.

He was failing miserably, but he figured now Betty wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Which would make avoiding her easier. He scoffed at himself, dumbass.

Bang bang bang. He furrowed his brow at the sound of someone knocking on the trailer door. Bang bang bang. Okay whoever it was, was awfully impatient. Bang bang bang, followed by a muffled open up asshole!

He couldn’t get to the door quick enough, even heard the person on the other side trying the handle. Annoyed, he whipped the door open to see a rather pristine Veronica Lodge waiting for him on the other side. She was wearing her typical hounds tooth attire, looking less than pleased with him.

Veronica was an outlier in the puzzle, just like him. They both didn’t fit into the Betty and Archie equation, and so her persistent presence at Archie’s side was a source of confusion for Jughead. He just supposed Veronica wasn’t as good at picking up on signals as he was.

She invited herself inside, pushing past him aggressively. “What gives asshole?”

He played dumb, “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? Gee, Jughead, that’s a good question,” she bit back sarcastically, tapping a finger to her chin in mock thought, “I’m talking about the fact that my best friend is crying because her soulmate just rejected her.”

Betty’s crying? Jughead felt a consuming wave of guilt wash over him. “I’m not her soulmate Veronica.”

Veronica just snorted out a bitter laugh, “Really Romeo? That’s why you just passed out on her lap in the middle of a school day?”

“I…” He wasn’t expecting Veronica to call him out like that, “Listen, it-it’s complicated.”

“You two are soulmates, not a Facebook status,” She narrowed her eyes at him, “So no, Jones, it’s not complicated.”

He shook his head at her, irritated, “We’re not soulmates.”

This evoked a long and sharp laugh from Veronica, Jughead could equate it only to cackling like a hyena. Once she realized he wasn’t laughing with her, she paused, “Oh. You were serious?”

“She’s my soulmate,” Jughead explained as Veronica nodded along, “But I’m…I’m not hers.”

“Wait, pause,” She commanded, “How the hell do you figure that?”

He gulped awkwardly, he shouldn’t be the one explaining this to her, “Come on Veronica. It’s Betty and Archie. Always has been.”

Veronica blinked at him, “You think…Betty and Archie…are soulmates?”

Jughead affirmed, “It’s obvious Veronica.”

She started to laugh again, subtler and to herself this time, but Jughead was getting pretty fed up. “Oh Jughead…what are we doing to with you?” She was quite amused, much to his annoyance. “Archie and I have known we’re soulmates since his seventeenth birthday.”

“What?” Jughead’s mouth was hanging open in surprise. Archie turned seventeen a few weeks after Veronica, months ago. His best friend found his soulmate and didn’t say anything? But that means…

Bang bang bang. Veronica raised her eyebrows in interest as someone else knocks on his door. “Expecting someone?” she drawled.

He shrugged her off before opening the door to find Archie on the other side, shoving his way in. Once inside the doorframe, a pretty angry Archie pushed Jughead back. “What the hell man! You made Betty cry!”

“Archie?” Veronica called out from the shadows of the trailer.

“Veronica?” He called back, surprised to see her here of all places. “Betty told you not to go after Jughead!”

“Betty also told you not to go after Jughead!” Veronica argued, more amused now.

The boy in question coughed awkwardly, prompting him to earn another push from Archie, “What? You think you’re too good for your own soulmate dude?”

Jughead looked bewildered because that certainly was not the case here. “You’ve been ignoring us for weeks! And this is why? Were you ever gonna tell her? Or just keep her in the dark?”

“Oh no Archie,” Veronica stepped in between the two boys and Jughead was grateful for just two seconds, “He thinks he’s not Betty’s soulmate.”

It was Archie’s turn to look confused so Veronica elaborated, “He thought the two of you were soulmates. Probably thought I was disillusioned and blind to your love.”

Unlike Veronica, Archie didn’t laugh. “That’s impossible Jughead, she’s like a sister to me. And obviously Ronnie and I are soulmates,” he seemed genuinely confused at Jughead’s confusion on the matter.

“Obviously?” Jughead scoffed, “You two didn’t tell anyone!”

“We thought everyone knew! We thought you knew!” They said in unison, a manner that was more unsettling than cute.

“Betty didn’t know,” he pointed out, “When I slept over a few weeks ago she asked me if you guys were soulmates.”

“My dad and I told her when he woke her up to go,” Archie rolled his eyes, “she wasn’t that surprised.”

And, oh god, was Jughead really feeling like an idiot now. “I mean,” Jughead scrambled to justify, “That still…doesn’t mean…that I’m Betty’s soulmate.”

Veronica pinched the bridge of her nose ready to bite out a rude comment when Archie intervened with a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Why? Why do you think that?”

“Because!” He exclaimed wildly, “I haven’t slept in weeks! Not since that night at your house Archie. I can’t focus in school, I can’t eat, I can’t stop thinking about her! And this whole time it’s been killing me because I thought…you two were soulmates. This entire time, I’ve been tossing and turning all night, looking like hell the next day-and she’s been fine! She’s even told me herself how well she’s been sleeping!”

And…that was pretty sound logic. It was hard to refute. Because even if Archie and Betty weren’t soulmates, there was that giant hole in the Betty and Jughead soulmate theory. He could see it in the way their faces fell. They couldn’t deny it.

“Oh,” Archie said, “Well, she’s pretty crazy about you, dude. The past few weeks she’s been going out of her mind trying to figure out what’s wrong with you. Ronnie and I have had to physically hold her back a few times.”

“She’s been crazy about you. I could tell that much since I first met you guys two years ago when I blessed this dismal town with my presence,” Veronica confirmed, “You’re all she’d talk about. From your dumb taste in movies, to wow Veronica! I can’t believe this article he wrote its so good blah blah blah to laughing at your unfunny jokes half an hour after you already left.”

Even…even if he wasn’t her soulmate, she still clearly loved him. And that was something, right?

Knock-knock. Someone else was at his door. Jughead sighed, exasperated but opened the door nonetheless to find Betty on the other side with a brown paper bag and a nervous look on her face.

“Betty-” He began to say but she interjected.

“Jughead, I know you’re…hurt and tired, but can I just come in? Can we please talk about us? I think I get why you’re upset-you don’t think we’re soulmates-wait, Archie?” She looked past Jughead’s shoulder to see the ginger standing awkwardly behind him.

“Betty?” Archie responded.

“Betty?” Veronica peeked over his shoulder.

“Veronica?” Betty was even more confused, stepping into the trailer.

Half-heartedly, Jughead raised his arm and lamely said, “Jughead, too.”

Archie snickered but Betty sent him an apprehensive stare, he wouldn’t be off the hook that easily.

Betty looked past him and stared at Archie and Veronica, “You two both promised me you wouldn’t say anything to him.”

Veronica had a light and airy tone, “And we had our fingers crossed the whole time, B.”

Betty put a hand on her hip, staring them both down, “Can we, uh, have a moment alone?”

“Of course!” Veronica chirped, taking Archie’s hand and pulling him into the living room, really only a few feet away from the doorway. Not nearly far enough for a private conversation.

“Veronica,” Betty’s said lowly, impatiently.

“Fine!” She huffed indignantly, moving to the door, “But I’m only a phone call away-don’t forget it Jones!”

“Goodbye Veronica, bye Archie!” Betty ushered them out the door quickly. As soon as the metal hinge of the door clicked shut, it became too quiet.

The silence was stifling, neither quite knowing what to say.

Eventually, Betty cleared her throat. “I…I don’t know what they told you, I hope it just didn’t make me look too embarrassing.”

“What do you mean?” He looked at the brown paper bag curiously.

“I just…remember when I was upset about how secretive Archie was about being with Veronica?” She waited for him to nod before continuing, “That night…when we fell asleep…it just felt different. I’ve never felt like that before. I assume you felt it too.”

“I did,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“After Fred woke me up, I was so confused-I felt so disoriented, I felt like I was pulled from the best sleep of my life- I had no idea what was going on. And after I went home I couldn’t sleep. I thought, I don’t know, maybe we were soulmates. I mean those are all the tell-tale signs!”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming on here,” Jughead lamented, eyes guarded.

She nodded, “But the next day, I slept fine. I slept fine, every night after that. Ever since I turned seventeen, I’ve been sleeping fine-better than I used to!”

He looked down at his shoes, this was seemed to be their roadblock. How can she sleep content without him, if he was truly her soulmate?

“So I thought…I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy? And then I was…upset. Maybe dozing off together didn’t count but…I wanted it to be you,” Betty confessed, looking up at him from underneath her lashed, “I wanted my soulmate to be you, so badly. I was so frustrated at myself, and then you kept pulling away. You didn’t want to talk to me or-or Archie, I was worried you were being secretive-I thought that maybe you found your soulmate. And that’s why you weren’t around as much, just like Archie.”

“That…couldn’t be further from the truth-the reality is-” Jughead was astonished, this entire time he’d been fretting over the fact he wasn’t Betty’s soulmate while she was worried she wasn’t his.

“That we’re soulmates,” she finished with a smile that could soothe his soul, “But I didn’t know that-not until today when you, um, fell asleep on me? That’s when I realized-and I was so happy and excited. I had a soulmate and it was you, of all people. But then you-you woke up,” he could see tears forming in her eyes and he cursed himself for his harsh words before.

“I didn’t mean it-I swear,” he jumped in to explain, paranoia coating his voice, “I was-I was an idiot. I thought you were my soulmate but I wasn’t yours- I thought you and Archie were and I was trying to avoid you guys to make it hurt less but it was just stupid and-”

This time when she cupped his face with her hand, he didn’t pull away. He leaned into her touch, finding comfort in it as she nodded, “I know-it was your wording that gave you away. At first I thought you were upset because we were soulmates. I thought my own soulmate didn’t want me but-you said something about me being your soulmate and not us…and that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

She rolled her eyes, “I knew exactly what happened that night. You freaked out the next morning, waited to see if I joined you in the crusade of sleepless nights, did a ton of research online and convinced yourself we were one of those non-reciprocal soulmate deals.”

He stared at her, stunned with a blush rising on his cheeks, “I, uh-well, basically?”

“I know you, Jughead Jones,” she smirked victoriously, bringing their foreheads to touch.

He could feel her grin against him, contagious enough to make him smile too. “I love you, Betty Cooper.” And it was true. Whether or not she had insomnia without him-they were soulmates. Maybe she was just an anomaly that way.

“I love you too,” she whispered before pressing their lips together softly.

If sleeping next to each other wasn’t enough to tell if they were soulmates, the fireworks and instant connection behind the kiss were enough to do the trick.

“Oh!” Betty said excitedly before pulling back, “I forgot about this!” She brought the brown paper bag up.

“What’s in the bag?” He looked at her, wondering what was important enough to interrupt their moment.

Betty pulled out an orange bottle with a white cap, a pill bottle. Tiny, beige capsules lined the inside of the bottle, it looked like it was halfway through.

He looked at her confused and she handed him the bottle. He read the label AMBIEN-TAKE 1X A DAY, HALF HR BEFORE INTENDED SLEEP.

Shocked, he looked up at her and she exclaimed loudly, “Sleeping pills, Jug! My mom was slipping them into my tea every night! That’s why she always wanted me home.”

“She didn’t want you to know when you found your soulmate,” Jughead realized.

“After Polly and Jason…she didn’t want me to have a soulmate,” She shook her head, disappointed in herself for not suspecting her mother sooner.

“Are you…Are you sure this is it? The reason you’ve actually been sleeping?” He eyed her cautiously, “Because with or without the insomnia-I know. We’re soulmates.”

“Well,” she took the bottle out of his hand before chucking it into the garbage with a sly smile on her face, “There’s only one way to know for sure. And you look like you could use a nap.”

#bughead #bughead fic #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #aswellingstormwrites

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

Happy WALPURGISNACHT! What to Watch on the Other Halloween

You think you’re safe. The days are longer, the nights are warmer, surely the undead are at rest this far from Halloween. But you’re wrong. Turn on your lights, put away your Oujia board, and whatever you do, STAY AWAY from the forest.  Because tonight, all is not well. Tonight, you are in danger. Tonight…is Walpurgisnacht.

  What is Walpurgisnacht?

Still from November (2017)

Like Halloween, Walpurgisnacht is an evening for enjoying the darker parts of our cultures. It’s celebrated all across Europe and the Netherlands as a sort of “Witches’ Night,” a last chance for dark magic and evil spirits to have fun before Spring chases them away. The holiday starts tonight, April 30th, and goes until tomorrow, May 1st.

Like any holiday, Walpurgisnacht has a complicated history. In ancient Germanic cultures, the transition between winter and spring was a time of dark magic. Pagan custom mandated that people either ward off evil forces through bonfires and the playing of loud music (picture a medieval rave), or avoid cursed areas where demonic sorcerers would practice gruesome rites (picture a medieval White House Banquet). Eventually, the regions that observed these mystic times were Christianized. As with some other ancient pagan holidays (*cough* Christmas *cough*), the occasion was rebranded as a celebration of Christian virtue. Specifically, it was named as the Feast of Saint Walpurga, to whom Christians prayed in order to ward off witchcraft. Ironically, the rebranding didn’t quite work, and the date set as a commemoration for warding off witchcraft and evil spirits…became a night for celebrating witchcraft and evil spirits.

Countries across the world celebrate Walpurgisnacht in different ways. For example, people in the Czech Republic build massive bonfires. In Estonia, revelers dress as witches and set up carnivals. In Finland, college students get drunk. Well, more drunk. In North America, however, there really isn’t a way of celebrating Walpurgisnacht. And we here at Nightmare on Film Street think that should change. The best way to do that, we feel, is through that greatest of North American traditions: staying inside and watching something.

  What to Watch on Walpurgisnacht

Faust (1926)

You might recognize Walpurgisnacht from Goethe’s classic drama, Faust. In it, titular doctor and terrible bargainer Faust encounters a host of demons and other evil creatures as they’re celebrating Witches’ Night. Though Faust inspired many films, one is especially appropriate for today. That one is helmed by Nosferatu‘s own F.W. Murnau, and it absolutely bleeds Germanic folklore. The movie’s satanic spokesperson, Mephistopheles, is a creature straight out of an old-world superstition, a thing that belongs to campfire stories in dark, ageless woods. The film’s atmosphere, too, is a special kind of magic bleakness. Murnau creates a world in flux between light and shadow, a warning that the comforts of civilization are only a feeling. Just like in Nosferatu, the horror hinges on Murnau’s sensational imagery, just as powerful today as it was in 1926. So powerful is that imagery, in fact, that it inspired something else on this list…

  ‘Night on Bald Mountain’ of Fantasia (1941)

It’s hard to pinpoint the darkest thing Disney’s ever done (I mean, they made a third Cars), but this animated short comes close. Featured in the collection Fantasia and set to Modest Mussorgsky’s score of the same name, Bald Mountain‘s content is as horrific as its animation is spectacular. The Murnau-inspired winged villain Czernabog is equal parts Cthulhu and Satan, and the witchy celebration he begins is truly terrifying. Imps laugh and dance as they are tortured by fire. Naked banshees screech across a cursed landscape. Ghosts of executed murderers leave their graves by passing through the nooses that killed them. If that’s not traumatizing enough, remember that the Fantasia short played directly before this one is Dance of the Hours, in which a hippo attempts ballet. Springing Bald Mountain on audiences directly after that takes a special kind of evil, Disney, and we applaud you for it.

  Suspiria (1977)

If you’ve watched more than twenty seconds of Dance Moms, you know that nothing is scarier than ballet school. For real, nothing. Filmmaker Dario Argento taps into that primal terror in 1977’s Suspiria, and it’s a perfect watch for Walpurgisnacht. Set in a prestigious dance academy in Freiburg, Germany, Suspiria is about the lengths some people will go to keep dark traditions alive. It’s in almost every “Top Ten Witchcraft Movies” list and it’s easy to see why. Suspiria brings the fears of the past into a vibrantly modern world. Be sure to leave the lights on for this movie, it’s absolutely the scariest one on this list. Also, keep an eye on our site for news of the Suspiria remake, set for this year. And if you can’t do either of those but still want to face existential terror, seriously watch Dance Moms. You will not be the same.

  The Witches of Eastwick (1987)

Michelle Pfieffer, Susan Sarandon, and Cher. I’m honestly tempted to just stop there, because if you aren’t already watching this movie after reading those names, I have to assume your taste in art is terrible. But I guess I can also tell you that this is a quintessentially eighties witchy delight, based on a 1984 John Updike novel of the same name. This movie is everything a horror-comedy should be. It is witty and charming but also genuinely spooky, and when you’re not wondering whether to laugh or scream, you’ll be doing both out of sheer joy. It’s a perfect movie of its time, as aware of Stephen King as it is General Hospital. And if you’re still unfathomably unsold on this movie, Jack Nicholson plays the literal Devil, which I’m fairly sure is his real personality. Either that or the Devil just acts like Jack Nicholson, both make sense.

  November (2017)

How many Estonian films have you seen this year? You’re probably thinking “none,” or if you were educated by the American public school system, you’re probably thinking “Estonian?” Well if you watch one Estonian film this year, make it on Walpurgisnacht, and make it November. This beautifully black-and-white film plays like a grim fairy tale, bristling with dark humor and equally dark magic. It’s the story of two hopeless romantics and the mystic lengths to which they go for love. It is tense and absurd, a story featuring relevant class commentary alongside a walking stick-demon. This is a movie for people who love lore, who think that fairy tales are for adults as much as anyone. It is atmospheric and brooding, making its occasional slapstick humor all the more shocking and funny. But don’t worry, this is not a movie lacking in terror.

  Now Have Fun!

That’s it for our list of what to watch on Walpurgisnacht. If you want to know more about this spooky springtime Halloween, visit ThoughtCo, which is where a lot of the research I found on the holiday comes from. If you or someone you know celebrate Walpurgisnacht, let us know on Facebook or Twitter, we’d love to hear some of your traditions! And even if you don’t, let us know some of your favorite pagan/witchcraft flicks, there are a lot more than what’s on here.

From everyone here at Nightmare on Film Street, have a very happy holiday. We hope you celebrate with good films, great booze, and the best friends. But even as you’re celebrating tonight, consider this: tales from the Witches’ Night have survived dozens of generations, thousands of years, and countless cultural & religious overhauls. Do we continue these traditions because out of respect for the past and a morbid fascination with the darkness? Or do we continue watching for witches and ghouls because, deep down…we know they’re watching us?

Happy Walpurgisnacht!

  Sill from Faust (1926)

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[medea10]

Medea’s Anime & Game Superlative of 2017

Time to do the annual list I do once a year acknowledging the anime and games I played this year. So that means if an anime came out in like...1979, as long as I watched it this year, it counts for my list. Let’s get started! First Fandom of 2017: Blue Exorcist: Kyoto Saga I started Blue Exorcist back in 2013 and fell in love with the story instantly. However, I often wondered what came after the whole finally confronting Satan story of the anime. Don’t spoil it for me, I’m not caught up with the manga yet. So when they announced this anime was going to come back, I was all ready to watch Rin and Yukio in action. Despite the many reservations I had with this particular season, I was so excited for this season early this year and couldn’t wait for the latest episode to air each week. I am satisfied to hear back-stories from some of the minor characters like Bon, Shima, and Konekomaru. And of course any moment when Rin is about to punch someone in the face is always satisfying to watch! Rin grows quite a bit in this season so this season wasn't a complete waste. Plus Bryce Papenbrook slays it as Rin and we get another awesome song by UVERworld. Favorite Main Character of 2017: Oscar François de Jarjeyes (Rose of Versailles)

As I mentioned in my superlative list last year, Rose of Versailles was an anime I didn’t expect to get into, but enjoyed nevertheless. And as I continued watching this year, I was severely hooked on the main character, Oscar. I know Oscar is indeed a fictional character in a story that’s based on actual history. Which makes me wonder if history would be any different if Oscar truly existed? I felt for this woman, especially in those last 10 episodes of the series. Oscar is one of the toughest females in anime history with her attacks during the French Revolution and the turmoil she went through in her love life. I was rooting for her to succeed throughout the entire series. All the way up to standing up against the French Army, she does it all! Favorite Villain of 2017: Frieza (Dragon Ball Super) Why do I love the biggest assholes in the Dragon Ball series? I don’t know. Out of all the villains in this series, Frieza was my favorite. Despite during the Z series where it literally takes him around 10 episodes to try and blow up a simple planet! With Dragon Ball Super, he’s still pure evil! He ends up resurrected more than once (thanks a lot Goku). However, I really wish that he would have gotten more of an evil streak during this Universe Competition saga. I know he can’t kill anybody or he’d be disqualified, but he could do a little more other than just stand on a pirch and laugh at the pitiful fighters. But when he’s fighting the Saiyans (including other universe Saiyans like Cabba), he’s ruthless! Anyone else hoping to see him take on Jiren in the coming episodes? Favorite Video Game Character of 2017: Lillie (Pokemon Ultra Moon) Lillie, you’ve done it again! And you are THIS close to becoming my favorite in the anime (except I’m still a Lana fangirl). With the Ultra Sun/Moon games, Lillie definitely shows hutzpah in her actions. She goes to great lengths in order to save the pokemon Cosmog and would even go through dangerous situations in order to save her own mother (who verbally disowned her). What’s even better with these new games is that in the post-game, Lillie actually battles with a pokemon. AND IT’S FROM THE CLEFABLE LINE! Lillie actually battles alongside you with a Clefairy. If it means I get to fight against that genital wart, Faba with this little lady by my side, I am very satisfied! This is awesome! I’m glad we get this extra bit in these games since the previous version had Lillie traveling and we don’t see her after defeating the league. Favorite Game of 2017: Miitopia …It’s my own fault for getting hooked on Tomodachi Life back in 2014. Ever since then, I’ve been having so much fun with these Mii games. And Miitopia was no exception! Guys, it was either this game or one of the Freemium games the Japanese throw my way. But since I don't feel like getting into Idol Hell with Love Live, I'm going with the miis again. As for this game, I got to add my favorite characters of anime (like Tracey Sketchit), favorite characters on sitcoms, favorite celebrities, and all sorts of others to fight an evil Dark Lord. Better yet, this game doesn’t care in terms of gender. You can be a boy character and be a princess. You can make two men lovers! Plus browsing through all the miis there are was amusing. I can’t tell you how many Guy Fieri’s and Rick Sanchez’s I’ve seen come through my game. Plus, I had a lot of fun trying to kill Donald Trump and Celine Dion. These are the people I despise, deal with it. The one downside was having your face stolen and having it put on something absurd like a rock, a mouse, or a turkey’s ASS! WHY WOULD YOU ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN?! Favorite Het Couple of 2017: Takeo Gouda x Rinko Yamato (My Love Story) THIS WAS SO ADORABLE! These two, together, the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen! I can’t believe it has taken me so long to watch this series. So this series revolves around a very, very, very, if the mother wasn't a former pro-wrestler, she would have split in half giving birth to him large high school freshman named Takeo falling in love with this petite girl named Yamato. I was amazed to find that they both confessed their feelings for each other so early in the series. And then have the rest of the series dedicated to their relationship blossoming! I know they’re only high school students, but seeing them do the simplest of things like holding hands or going on a date is downright adorable to see them do. Yamato sees past Takeo’s large exterior and sees that he is a sweet boy. I want this couple to thrive well into old age! Long live this ship! Favorite Yuri Couple of 2017: Ymir x Christa/Historia (Attack on Titan: Season 2) This year there were several Yuri couples that caught my eye (including couples from Love Live and Miss Kobayashi). But the one that stood out the most came from Attack on Titan’s second season. In the first season, I really never paid attention to Ymir x Christa. I think I was busy screaming out, “HOLY SHIT, THOSE ARE SOME FUCKED UP LOOKING TITANS!” When the chibi middle school spin-off came along, they laid it on kinda thick, especially on Ymir’s end. But this season is where it all came out. Particularly in the episode Historia! In this episode, we get a touching flashback of the two girls surviving in the harsh winter climate. Ymir did a lot in order to protect Christa, even exposing her giant secret. Both girls cared about each other enough so to confide in each other their dark secrets. I know this ship might die down when season 3 airs next July, but as for this season, we got plenty of this, and I couldn’t be any happier. Favorite Yaoi Couple of 2017: Grell Sutcliff x Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler: Book of the Atlantic) Here I am again with this one-sided ship. Call it a long-time guilty pleasure. Okay, I’ll be honest. I didn’t watch that many anime this year where I was enthralled with two boys. Not like last year when Yuri on Ice aired! I almost gave a pity throwaway to Ash x Kiawe from Pokemon: Sun & Moon. But one thing I do remember and liked was when I went to the screening of Black Butler’s Book of the Atlantic. Because with Black Butler, you never know when a certain reaper in red is going to come swinging a chainsaw! And as I said before, this ship is heavily one-sided as Grell always wants Sebastian (either to make love to him or kill him…or both) and Sebastian finds him annoying and dodges his advances. But my fangirly heart still loves this ship. Besides, this isn’t the first time I’ve put this ship on my superlative list. Not even a boat-load of zombies can keep Grell away from his Sebas-chan! Eight years later and I still squeal anytime I see that! Fandom That You Didn’t Expect To Get Into: Sakura Quest In April this year, I picked a completely random anime that was brand new to start. I had no idea what it was about, I just jumped right into it. And what I found was a quaint story about a young girl who becomes queen of a very rural town. There are many fine animes that delve into the concept of living in a small, rural town and the colorful characters that live there. And honestly, I’m just glad that it didn’t end up with the people murdering each other (like Shiki or Higurashi). Instead, we get the main character Yoshino take part as the role of queen of the small kingdom. And with the help of four other girls from the town, they were able to bring life into their little town. I enjoyed many of these characters and fell in love with many of their back-stories. From Maki striving to be an actress to Ririko breaking out of her shell! Kadota wanting to make-up for his past mistakes he made in his youth, to Yoshino deciding on her future! Even though Yoshino wasn't too fond of the small village scene, she quickly adapted and learned that small towns like Manoyama can be just as fulfilling as big cities like Tokyo. Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Attack on Titan *singing incoherent Japanese gibberish* YEAGER! I didn’t think I was going to get into the Attack on Titan hype train this year as big as I did. Especially since it’s been 4 years since the previous season aired. Buckle up bitches! Despite this being only 12 episodes, this season was truly memorable and gave us MANY, MANY, MANY revelations. However most of that was from minor characters. Now this season did come with some irritating things. Like Levi and Jean being pushed to the side. Eren is like a hostage for what feels like half the season. And Mikasa turned into so much of a yandere, I think Yuno Gasai pissed herself. But aside from my nitpicky things, I really enjoyed this season of Attack on Titan. Not just with this season, but catching up with the manga as well. Because I’m not waiting until 2018 to learn about giant monkey man titan! Add to that, a bomb-ass opening theme by Linked Horizon, Eren fighting the armored and colossal titan, and Ymir x Christa, this was one hell of a season. Can’t wait for July 2018! Fandom That Inspired the Most Crack: Miss Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon This is something I’m currently watching…and boy is it crazy! I almost gave it to Mr. Osomatsu again, but then I see busty dragon ladies! Imagine if you will, opening your front door and finding a humungus dragon standing at your door step. You are either in an anime, stoned off your ass, still drunk, or this is just a dream. Well in this case it’s an anime…and Miss Kobayashi might have been hungover when she met Tohru. And because it’s an anime, why not have this dragon transform into a busty girl? Thanks Japan! And living with Tohru and the rest of the dragons is anything but simple. Since Tohru is going to be Kobayashi’s maid, she’ll have to cook (by she’s going to cut off her tail and cook it for her master), clean (by licking Kobayashi’s clothes with her tongue), and protect the home from intruders (by blowing any and all intruders to oblivion). Yeah, this anime is wacky with not only Tohru, but the other mythical creatures like Kanna, Fafnir, Elma, and one of animes BIGGEST PAIRS OF TITS I’VE EVER SEEN Lucoa. Last Fandom of 2017: Food Wars! Shokugeki no Soma: The Third Plate The third season of Food Wars is by far the BEST thing to air for Fall 2017 animes. Not just I think so, but friends and co-workers of mine agree. Fans of the show were finally treated to meeting rest of Totsuki Academy’s Elite Ten. Not only that, but learn a great deal of one of this anime’s most hated characters (as to why we hate her). As Totsuki is drenched in tradition, we see this tradition break by an uprising as an exiled member of Totsuki emerges and ends up taking over the academy. This leading to mass changes in curriculum with the students and the Shokugeki in danger of no longer existing! To which Soma Yukihira says, “Hold my beer. It’s time to cook.” Okay, he doesn’t exactly say that, but he definitely takes on the establishment (including several Elite Ten members) in order to protect his friends and colleagues of the school. And let’s not forget what this show also contains! FOOD ORGASMS! I will admit that the later seasons have toned down a bit on the food orgasms that’s shown. But when it does happen, it’s almost other-worldly due to who’s cooking the food. I would love to eat any of that food that they cook on this show…I just don’t want my clothes to rip off me while the food molests me both ways.

#blue exorsict #rose of versailles #oscar francois de jarjeyes #frieza #dragon ball super #pokemon ultra sun and ultra moon #lillie #miitopia #takeo gouda #rinko yamato #my love story #ymir #historia #attack on titan #grell sutcliff #sebastian michaelis #black butler #sakura quest #miss kobayashi's dragon maid #shokugeki no soma

[thinktosee]

JOURNAL – DAVID AND CAMUS – PART 4 – THE FALL

Titian’s Fall of Man, c1550. Image courtesy Museo del Prado, Spain

This journal is a continuation of Part 3, which may be accessed via this link :

https://thinktosee.tumblr.com/post/613609798512115712/journal-david-and-camus-part-3-the-fall

Journal to David

Dear David my Son,

“I always thought our fellow citizens were crazy about two things : ideas and fornication.” (The Fall, p5)

Albert Camus’ monologue of 1956, titled “The Fall” is arguably the most distilled exploration of his philosophical beliefs about Existentialism. The term, “arguably” is applied here as it’s possible you’d disagree. Yes, “The Stranger” is emotionally, yet intellectually stimulating – fused to mine the soul trapped within the reader, rendering it to explode to the surface, as a dramatic offering of our otherwise dormant passions! (1) “The Myth of Sisyphus”? Well, that’s absurd. It is exasperating and predictable like any ritual, religious or otherwise. Besides why do we have to repeat it again and again? Boring. Say what? That’s Life, ain’t it? In Sisyphus, Camus makes us see the folly of our ways, of our life, with a Dante-que’ twist.(2) It’s no doubt a revealing story, I agree. But let’s get back to The Fall, shall we?  That’s the real enchilada there. That’s the story of the fall of man.

Sisyphus, burden and hope – Image courtesy reasonandmeaning.com

The Fall hints at the Garden of Eden when Google, oops pardon me, I mean Knowledge, made its entrance on the camouflaged stage following the supreme feast of the apple. And as in Sisyphus, that original fall is repeated forevermore everywhere, as if perfection and triumph are within our slimy grasp, each time we laboured. But hey, what do I know? You were the Camus-go-to-guy. You were the Existentialist, David (3). I am just following in your footsteps. Hence, our fall? Our never-ending search for Knowledge.

Camus’ The Fall takes the reader through the colourful musings of Jean-Baptiste Clamence, formerly a successful defence lawyer in snooty Paris, to his new digs in “Mexico City” a bar located in so very depressing Amsterdam. What in heavens caused this fall from grace? A couple of things, just like what happens on any given day to many of us, really, when Truth happens to cross our path, like a black cat :

Our copy of Albert Camus’, The Fall. This excellent edition is translated by Robin Buss, Penguin Press, 2006. 

1. One day in Paree, Jean-Baptiste had an altercation with a motorcyclist. It was clear from a legal perspective, that Jean-Baptiste was quite right. However, an observer didn’t see it that way and rudely chastised him for his behaviour. While being distracted by the observer, the motorcyclist took a swing at our kind lawyer and sped off. The incident infuriated and also embarrassed Jean-Baptiste. Where did these negative and violent urges in him originate, he wondered? Wasn’t he a man for the common people? Were his professional and also personal support for the down-trodden superficial after all? Was all this service, for himself, rather than for them? To create and then foster a false image of oneself? The seed of knowledge took root when he began to ponder on these Socratic questions.

2. In the second example, which is recounted in Part 3, Jean-Baptiste’s utter and pathetic failure to act when the young woman jumped into the river, gave him cause to re-examine his bona fides – his life’s assumptions. What in today’s lingo may be dubbed as his “fake news” life. Our contrived persona, really.

With these in mind, Jean-Baptiste migrated, wandering, and finally ended down under. Sitting on a mound in water-logged Amsterdam, he meets a stranger one day. Being expansive, as lawyers tend to be, and over a series of lectures or monologue, he recounts his fall. These accounts trace his “regression” and amplify what the fall is to Jean-Baptiste, as it possibly was to Adam and Eve, or to any one, including me.

The Fall really is about a Socratic exploration to live a life without any pretence, or camouflage. A life of freedom and not dependency. Or as you admonished me to “Be Yourself!” That is the only constant. Adam and Eve’s fall in the Garden ushers the introduction to Knowledge, and away from a blissful dependency and ignorance. So is Jean-Baptiste Clamence’s. So is mine. 

Image courtesy Sanskritimagazine.com

Let Camus tell us then what he means in a few selected passages :

“ ‘Do you want a clean life, like everyone else?’ Of course you answer yes. How could you not? ‘Fine. We’ll clean you up. Here’s a job, here’s a family, here’s some organized leisure’ And the little teeth bite into the flesh, right down to the bone.” (p6)

“There, give up. Mine is a double job, that’s all, just as humans are double.” (p7)

“I live in the Jewish quarter, or what they called the Jewish quarter until our Hitlerite brethren cleared a space in it. What a clean-up! Seventy-five thousand Jews deported or murdered : that’s vacuum cleaning. I admire such diligence, such methodical patience! You have to be methodical when you have no character. Here, the method worked wonders, there’s no denying it : I live on the site of one of the greatest crimes in history.” (p8)

“There is no denying that, at least for the moment, judges are necessary, don’t you agree? And yet I couldn’t understand how a man could appoint himself to exercise that surprising office. I had to accept it, since I saw it, but rather in the way that I accepted locusts….with the difference that the invasions of those orthoptera have never brought me a penny, while I used to earn a living by conversing with people whom I despised.” (p13)

“…but I would also only take their cases on the sole condition that they were good murderers, as others are noble savages.” (p13)

Fortunately, my profession satisfied this call to the heights.” (p17)

“Conversely, the indignation, talent and emotion that I expended relieved me of any debt towards them. Judges punished the crime, the accused atoned for it, and I, free of all responsibility, beyond judgement or punishment, reigned at liberty, bathed in a prelapsarian glow.” (18)

“I mean, relatives and in-laws (what a word!) – it’s a different tune. They find the right word, but it’s usually the one that wounds. They pick up the phone to you like someone picking up a gun. And their aim is on target.” (p21)

“Perhaps we do not love life enough. Have you observed that only death awakens our feelings?” (p21)

“That’s a charming house, isn’t it? The two heads there belong to negro slaves. A trade sign : the owner was a slave trader. Huh, they didn’t mince their words in those days! They came right out with it and said : ‘I’ve got a house on the street, I deal in slaves,  I sell black flesh!’ Can you imagine anyone nowadays stating publicly that that was his business? What an uproar! I could hear my fellow lawyers in Paris from here. They’re adamant on this matter and wouldn’t hesitate to publish two or three manifestos,……I might even add my signature to theirs. Slavery! Why, no, we’re against it! If we are forced to have it in the home or in factories, fine, that’s the normal run of things, but boasting about it, is going too far.” (p28)

“I’m well aware of the facts that one cannot do without dominating or being served. Every man needs slaves just as he needs fresh air.” (p28)

“Just between ourselves, servitude, preferably with a smile, is unavoidable. But we don’t have to acknowledge that fact. If a man can’t help having slaves, isn’t it better for him to call them free men? As a matter of principle, firstly, then so as not to drive them to despair. Surely we owe them at least that compensation? In this way, they will carry on smiling and we can keep our conscience clean. Otherwise, we might be forced to examine ourselves and become mad with grief….” (p29-30)

“The truth is that every intelligent man, as you know, dreams of being a gangster and ruling over society by violence alone. As this is not as easy as one might think from reading novels in the genre, people generally turn to politics and hurry to support the cruellest party. It matters little, wouldn’t you say, to abuse one’s mind if by that means one succeeds in dominating everyone. I found that there were sweet dreams of oppression within me.” (p35)

“There was no deception involved, or merely that blatant deception that they consider a mark of respect. As people commonly say, I loved women - which amounts to saying that I never loved any one of them. I have always thought misogyny to be both vulgar and stupid, and considered almost all the women I have known to be better than myself. However, while setting them so high, I exploited rather than served them. What does that mean?” (p36)

“Otherwise, there would be a solution and one could at last be taken seriously. Men are not convinced of your arguments, your sincerity or the seriousness of your suffering, except by your death.” (p46)

“If we are to end, doubt, we must stop existing, purely and simply.” (p47)

“The most natural idea for mankind, the one that comes naively, as if from the depths of one’s being, is that of one’s own innocence. In this respect we are all like the little Frenchman in Buchenwald who insisted on trying to lodge an appeal through the clerk, himself a prisoner……The clerk and his friends laughed : ‘Useless old chap. There’s no appeal here.’ ‘But, you see, Monsieur,’ said the little Frenchman, ‘mine is an exceptional case. I’m innocent.’ “ (p50)

“But above all because wealth shields from immediate judgement, lifts you out of the crowd in the underground, shuts you up in a chromium-plated car and isolates you in huge expanses of protected parkland…Wealth,..is not actually acquitted, but a reprieve.” (p51)

“How could sincerity be a condition of friendship? A liking for the truth at all costs is a passion that spared nothing and that nothing can withstand.” (p51)

“Dante allows for neutral angels in the quarrel between God and Satan : and he places them in Limbo, a sort of waiting room for his Hell. My good friend, we’re in the waiting room.” (p52)

“What we call elementary truths are the ones we discover after the rest.” (p52)

“I proclaimed my loyalty, yet I think that there is not a single person that I loved whom I did not also eventually betray. Of course, my betrayals did not get in the way of my fidelity.” (p53)

“I began to advise ‘transference of guilt’ as a tactic for the defence. Not that form of ‘transference of guilt’, I said, which has been perfected in modern inquisitions where a thief and an honest man are tried at the same time that the latter can be made responsible for the crimes of the former. What I meant, on the contrary, was defending the thief by bringing out the crimes of the honest man, in the event, the lawyer.” (p58)

“I had always lived a life of debauchery, since I had never ceased to desire immortality.” (64)

“The purely verbal references to God that I sometimes made in my pleas in court made my clients suspicious. No doubt they were afraid that heaven would be less qualified to look after their interest than an advocate…” (p66)

“I realized that the shout that I heard many years earlier echoing across the Seine behind me had not ceased to travel across the world,….I realized too that it would continue to wait for me…”(p68)

“...we cannot be certain of anyone’s innocence, while we can confidently pronounce everyone guilty. Each man bears witness to the crime of all the others.” (p69)

“Believe me, religions are wrong when they start to moralize and sound off with their commandments. We have no need of God to create guilt or to punish. Our fellow men are enough, with our help.” (p69)

“Don’t wait for the Last Judgement, it takes place every day.” (p70)

“But too many people are now climbing up on the cross just so that they can be seen from further away, even if in doing so they have to trample a little on the one who has already been there for so long.” (72)

“Judges are swarming over the corpse of innocence, judges of every species, those of Christ and Antichrist, who as it happens are the same, all reconciled in little ease” (p73)

“What does it matter, after all? Don’t lies in the end put us on the path to truth?” (p75)

“He announced that we needed a new pope who lives among the poor and needy, instead of praying on his throne…” (p78)

“…you see, the main idea is not to be free any longer, but to repent and obey a greater knave than you are.” (p85)

“The judgement that you are passing on others eventually blows right back in your face and may do some damage.” (p86)

“Since we could not condemn others without at the same time judging oneself, one should heap accusations on one’s own head, in order to have the right to judge others. Since every judge eventually becomes a penitent, one had to take the opposite route and be a professional penitent in order to become a judge.” (p86)

“Throw yourself in the water again so that I might have once more the opportunity to save us both!” (p92)

 If only, we have that opportunity once more, David. 

daddy

Sources/References

1. https://thinktosee.tumblr.com/post/177348082353/david-and-camus-part-1-the-stranger

https://thinktosee.tumblr.com/post/177516436953/david-and-camus-part-2-the-stranger

2. https://www.amazon.com/Myth-Sisyphus-Albert-Camus/dp/0848833481

3. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/existentialism/

[gilbirda]

Human courting is confusing. Chapter 13

The gods have smiled upon me today, so I have the new chapter. A bit slow, but I wanted to explain these thing before going on.

[FF.net][Ao3]

First Chapter |<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >> | Last Chapter

Day 13: Eating icecream

“So,” she said as she sat down, taking the menu from the cute cafeteria where they decided to come today. It was really hot and sunny, and a nice ice-cream sounded just perfect to cool her tired body. Last night she couldn’t get too much sleep (she cursed the demon the whole day for this) and today was the only calm day before the exam week began on monday, “let’s talk.”

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk. Neuro was having the time of his life. After a very interesting night he has grasped the perfect way to kiss Yako and bring out those delicious sounds from her. They had practiced until she reminded him that today she had classes to go to. He let her go, but with the promise to get more of that today. He wasn’t satisfied yet. “Let’s.”

A waitress approached them with a big smile on her face and a news article for the detective to sign. While Yako wrote a small message for the kind girl, said girl looked at the demon with hungry eyes, checking him out from head to toes, fascinated with the foreign looking man in front of her. He was used to this kind of reactions as he was aware of the human standards of beauty and that this form was considered “attractive” in the World Above. Yako doesn’t look at him like that. Hm… Interesting.

“Have you decided you order?” the waitress said, looking at Neuro while pocketing her autograph. Yako frowned slightly, detecting the predatory feeling on the woman. For a moment she wanted to feel pity for her, as Neuro wasn’t exactly the kind and cute image of her “assistant”.

“Yes, I want the Mega chocolate milkshake with three ice cream scoops on top,” she said with a forced smile. The waitress turned to her and wrote the order very slowly, a scowl on her face. Nope, not feeling pity for her.

“And for the handsome gentleman?” the girl said turning back to Neuro, who was smiling the whole time.

“I’ll pass,” he said with a sweet voice. Yako was going to puke. That voice always upsets her stomach.

“If you need anything else,” the nameless waitress looked directly at Neuro, hinting that her services went past this café, “you can call me.” And left with an extra sway on her hips. Neuro watched her leave with the same sweet smile on, not seeing the frown on his slave’s face.

“You can’t really be interested in that, are you?” she asked, disgusted.

“Her brain holds no interest in me, worm, as it was quite obvious what her intentions and reasoning are. However,” the demon smiled, showing a few of his pointed teeth, “your reaction does. Jealous?” She snorted.

“As if!” Yako laughed softly. “But don’t get distracted. We have to talk. And I have questions.”

“Then ask,” Neuro gently placed his hands on top of the table purposely looking harmless, fooling everyone else on the place except Yako. He has mocking her, she knew, but al least he seemed open to discussion.

“Alright. First question,” she thought about it for a moment, trying to decide what knowledge was most important right now. She had made a list in her head the whole day, prepared to come out of this conversation sure of her decision, “is it dangerous? For a human. Getting… erm, involved with a demon.”

“Do you mean physically involved?” he smiled and Yako shivered a little.

“No, I mean, with this demon-ish dating thing-”

“Courting,” he corrected calmly.

“Yeah, courting. Well, I’m kinda worried for my wellbeing, you know? Everything with you is pretty extra and by the things you’ve told about the demon world…Is it dangerous for a human? Has it ever happened before?” he thought about her question for a few seconds, still smiling.

“It’s not unheard of a mating between a human and a demon. Of the cases I know about, the human survived the courting.” Used to his careful use of words, she caught the trick.

“And the mating?” she whispered, fear flooding on her body. She was aware of the meaning of the word “mating” and right now she was sure she wasn’t ready to talk about it in deep; but still she wanted to know if she was doomed to die or not.

“It depends.”

“On what,” Yako was growing tired already. The demon was avoiding her questions!

“On how powerful is the demon,” he said and the young woman could only imagine what he meant by that. Was it some kind of violent process? Did it entail blood and pointy objects? Sacrifices to Satan?

“Just for the sake of argument, how powerful was the demon that tried to mate to a human woman?” Yako asked in a strained voice, already feeling her body go numb.

“Less powerful than me, if that’s what you want to know,” he smiled and leaned a bit over the table, enough to let her hear his low whisper, “And the human was a cowardly male wimp. Do you think that demons only rapture young woman from Earth? How sexist is that, Yako?” he laughed a bit at her expense, sitting back on his chair. She was too shocked by the new information to even register his comment or the approaching nosy waitress with her snack.

“Here is your order,” the woman placed an enormous glass full of sweet goodies in front of the blonde detective. “Have you made your mind, mister?” she asked while putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear in what she considered a flirty move. Neuro smiled.

“Actually, yes. Could you bring me a coffee?” the woman was pleased to have something to bring to the gorgeous man and went hastily to the kitchen to fix him his coffee. Yako looked at him in shock. “When she tries to make the coffee, the machine is going to explode. She is going to be blamed, as it’s not the first time she breaks something, and will get fired,” he answered her silent question.

“I see,” Yako nodded as they heard a distant ‘boom’ in the shop. How Neuro knew so much about the woman, she could only guess, but still was pleased by the gesture. She was really annoyed with the flirting. With a sigh, she picked up the little spoon and caught a bit of the ice cream. It was delicious, of course. She had chosen this place for the milkshake with ice cream after all.

“Any more stupid questions?” Neuro fixed his emerald eyes on her, waiting for whatever she wanted to know. He had agreed to this because she was too determined in forming conditions for the courting (absurd) and despite considering torturing her into submission, he knew that if she really didn’t want to accept him, she could find a way not to. She was smart and had the spirit to challenge him. That’s why he had chosen her.

“They are not stupid if my life is in gamble,” she reminded him, savoring the new spoonful. He waited for a while, expecting the question. “Ok, hm… what do I have to do to stay on the realm of the living?”

“Be yourself,” he said without hesitating. She glared at him. “No, it’s true. You have to be strong enough to stand my powerful self,” he gave her a big smile, totally fake, when she snorted again with such a comment, “and I don’t think that my chosen partner is not capable of passing the test.”

“What test?” Yako tried not to blush with his sort-of compliment. Neuro took a deep breath and looked out of the window.

“When a demon chooses a mate-to-be, they initiate the courting process. Each demon has it’s own process. If the other demon accepts, they mark each other as a warning sign to other demons, to show who they belong to, as with the marking process they merge they energies.” Okay, that sounded cute in a creepy way, Yako was thinking. It was like those vampire romance novel she read from time to time. But wait, ‘each demon has its own courting process’? What was his and why hadn’t she saw any of that? “The marking fades after a Hell’s cycle if the mates-to-be don’t reinforce it before.”

“And how do you do that?”

“The marking? Or the reinforcement?”

“Both, please,” Yako gulped, at the edge of her seat with curiosity.

“The marking is a bite on a visible place, embedded with the demon energy. Some of them glow in the dark, it depends on how much energy the biter has,” something told her that his mark would be pretty shiny. “The final ritual is a public oath to belong to each other for eternity before a demon of higher power, and then the weaving of souls and the actual mating.” Yako blushed looking down at her ice cream, which was starting to melt, and ate a big spoonful. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept of being intimate with the demon. It was just too much!

“I see…” her head was starting to pound with the new information. What was she getting into? “And how does it change with me being human? I can’t go to Hell and we aren’t even sure I can survive the process.”

“You will survive. I am sure of it,” the fire in his eyes was overwhelming in a good way, almost calming, as she could see the trust he had on her. “And I had already thought of that. If I can find a way to get a book from Hell, it will have plenty of spells that could be useful; like, for example, opening a stable gate between worlds or making you capable of going down without dying.”

She ate in silence for a few moments, both lost on their own thoughts and the conversation they were having, wolfing down half of the milkshake. It was really delicious and despite the seriousness of the situation she let herself enjoy the heavenly taste while thinking of the weird demon mating process he had described. It sounded really romantic in a demonic way, but as she was now used to these kind of things it was easier to see it in the bright way. It was cute, promising your life to someone you love....

Suddenly, she dropped the spoon and gasped, looking straight at Neuro with tears forming in her eyes.

“But, Neuro, there’s something we haven’t discussed.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m human.”

He raised the other one, considering for a moment if his partner was sane or not. Or if she was devolving into a monkey of the stupid kind. “I was aware of it. What’s the problem?”

“I’m going to die at some point. There’s no “forever” with me. You mentioned a ‘weaving of souls’ meaning that if I die you’d-”

Neuro pushed her head down to the remaining milkshake with ice cream in a swift movement that no other customer saw, and kept her down for the few seconds it took to calm himself enough to tone down the demonic shine of his eyes. He grabbed her hair and pulled her out, ignoring the whines of protest.

“You are not allowed to die, worm,” he whispered to Yako, who was choking out the ice cream. “You are more stupid that I thought for suggesting such a thing.”

As she tried to clean the ruined milkshake from her face and hair, she noticed the tense pose of the demon in front of her. He was sure of their success, but the reality was that she was going to die, be it by some demon mating ritual or by nature itself. She had left what? Four or five decades and then she was gone from this world. If he couldn’t find any spell to stop her from aging this mating thing wasn’t worth, at least for him.

And the realisation of that he already knew all of this before telling her of the idea left a bittersweet feeling on her heart.

#mtnn #majin tantei nougami neuro #nogami neuro #katsuragi yako #neuyako #fanfic #gil writes

[lauraxxtennant]

don juan in soho

Review & lots of spoilers below

Ok. So, you guys know by now that I was, let’s say, cautious about several aspects of this play prior to seeing it.

I was completely turned around on one of those things, though, and this was the inclusion of music/dance numbers and an actual. Duet. Between dt and adrian. This duet was the highlight of my night. I know!!! That’s bonkers!!! I thought I was going to find this the most embarrassing moment of my life, and yet!!!!!

Let me be clear, I love musicals. I love plays. I don’t usually find it beneficial to the material when a play tries to shoehorn in a musical number. I usually think it’s best for straight plays to leave the musicals down the road to their singing and dancing, and just act the damn thing. Added to this, the fact that david tennant is clearly desperate to be in a musical lmao made me think, ‘oh god, this is gonna be a disaster, he can’t sing, it’s gonna be embarrassing.’ HOWEVER. I fully admit that he sounded good tonight. Really really good. DJ & Stan basically get stoned and sing a (brief, TOO BRIEF) semi-romantic duet under the stars at the end of act one. It’s the best point in the play, and no one is more surprised by this than me.

There’s another brief musical number in the play by the cast (not including dt) where you see a couple of real life, floppy-haired teenage dt photos projected in the background (none that we haven’t seen before.) I also really liked the tiny snippets of music from the opera Don Giovanni, which gave me the shivers. I feel like this could’ve been used to greater effect actually; if the ~moment of revelation~ and the ending of the play were stronger, bringing in those strains of Mozart could’ve had a greater impact, really set a nice tone of doom about the place. But perhaps there were practical limitations on how much they could use of that music anyway; this play is, after all, not the opera Don Giovanni.

Before seeing the show, I was also dubious about what I’d heard re: the staging. It’s quite a sparse set, which I think is fine actually, and there’s an absolutely ridiculous moment where david tennant flies into the air on a rickshaw (yes, really) which clearly made him very happy so i can take that all in good fun lol. Therefore, the only gripe I have about the staging has to do with the whole statue-coming-alive thing (yeah...really.) More on that later, though.

The third thing I didn’t think I was gonna like but did, was the hospital scene. DJ receives a blowjob from Lottie (played by Dominique Moore, who is very funny in the scene preceding this where she actually gets to speak) whilst chatting up the bride (or, ‘the fox�� as DJ charmingly calls her...) whose wedding reception he has just ruined in his pursuit of her. The logistics of it are frankly ridiculous - nobody could get away with that in a hospital waiting room lmao, blanket covering the action or not. There’s a large bag sitting on the seat between him and the bride, hiding Lottie’s ministrations from her, but the rest of the people in the room can see what’s going on. So it’s bonkers. But it’s also hilarious. I’m incredibly impressed that david tennant managed to offer up such a variety of expressions over the course of several minutes, whilst also having a conversation with the bride. Several times you think, ok, he must be nearly done, this is the orgasm face...but nope, he keeps right on going, and he doesn’t even blush. Stellar receiving-blowjob acting right there. This is the funniest part of the play, imo.

As always, dt’s comic timing is great. But I think he mines more laughs through his delivery and physical comedy than the writing actually offers him. He deserves much better material. This play is a comedy but I get the impression it thinks it’s funnier than it is, or at least it thinks it’s more quick-witted and worldly than it is. Admittedly this comes down to personal taste as much as anything.  I did laugh aloud in places, but there were several times I heard someone a few rows back really, properly laughing at something I considered pretty tepid on the humour front tbh.

As I mentioned in my summary earlier, the staggering amount of alliteration in this play nearly made me lose my mind. Once you notice something like that - something repetitious in someone’s writing - it is so hard to tune it out. I know this sounds like a very nit-picky, minor thing, but it was honestly so irritating!! The line that’s been thrown about a lot in the promo stuff/reviews, ‘Satan in a suit from Savile Row,’ is truly just the start; that line is said by Stan, but DJ gets most of the excruciating stuff, including a dozen or so lines informing us that DJ cannot possibly be racist because he’d do it with, among other alliterative ladies, ‘a babe in a Burka.’

Talking of racism. There’s a terrible line about how DJ wants to fly to Alaska to have sex with a ‘furry little eskimo,’ which I didn’t find particularly pleasant or funny. 

The supporting cast is very non-white for a West End show, so kudos to the casting director for that, but it is unfortunate that DJ’s brother-in-law, who I have seen described in a review as a ‘black thug’ (!!!) is the maker of DJ’s demise.

There’s also a really tasteless scene where DJ is interacting with a homeless Muslim man. This is the scene I was referring to when I said something turned my stomach. He dangles his £6k watch in front of his face and tells him he can have it if he blasphemes Allah. I’m aware this is a direct parallel to a scene in Moliere’s Don Juan (wherein he offers a coin to a beggar on the proviso the beggar concedes to blaspheme; interestingly this scene was removed from performances at the time.) But the execution of this scene is just so tasteless and unpleasant. Oh, and also dt imitates the Muslim man’s accent at one point. Grim. 

Though DJ, in his monologue near the end of the play, riles against hypocrisy, he is so self-righteous in this scene that it’s almost unbearable; he goes on and on about how Allah hasn’t done anything for this homeless man, so why can’t he insult him (at first he wants him to call Allah a cunt, then he de-escalates to ‘twerp,’ neither of which the man does. Thankfully DJ throws him the watch anyway, ‘because of his integrity.’ But that this rich, vile, atheist man could shout in this other guy’s face about his religion...it’s horrible. Stan agrees, so at least our ~moral compass within the play (dubious) is on the audience’s side. But still, it’s very uncomfortable to watch. 

For me, this was the only shocking moment in the play. Though this play is billed as being filthy and shocking, there is nothing inherently shocking or controversial about a fictional portrayal of a womanising, amoral, cynical, privileged white male with an excessive sexual appetite, penchant for prostitutes, and evidently an addiction to drugs and/or drink. Those characters are, let’s face it, ten a penny in literature, on stage, and on screen. DJ’s liberal use of the word ‘cunt’ might shock some in the audience, granted, but I think this play thinks it’s more shocking that it is. The language in the play is clearly something dt relishes getting to perform, and I am not offended by swearing at all, and honestly quite like hearing him going for it (apart from that one time he calls a prostitute ‘fuckface,’ not that she seems to mind.) But it’s sort of a bit laughable, that lines like ‘I’m just a cunt with an eye for one,’ are trying so hard to provoke laughter and/or shock, when...it’s just not even that great a line? A lot of the ‘funny’ lines are phrased pretty awkwardly tbh.

Other absurd moments:

DJ declaring himself a radical feminist. (this is funny because aside from Marber’s use of that word in this one instance, the rest of the play seems to take place in a contemporary world where feminism never happened.)

The statue coming alive. I hated this lmao. I mean. It’s all hallucinatory/figurative I guess (i hope??) because it’s his own voice bellowing from the statue that DJ hears, foretelling his impending doom and indicating how much he despises/fears himself, but the surrealness of the statue moving about and pedalling him into the air on a rickshaw, it’s just...it’s embarrassing

‘I’m not a rapist, I don’t grab pussy!’ getting a huge laugh. a) the bar is truly low when you have to say at least the dude is not a rapist, b) i hate donald trump as much as anyone but this is one of those poorly-phrased lines i mentioned that aren’t actually very funny. It felt a bit shoehorned in tbh.

Elvira, DJ’s wife, is an oddly-conceived character. I understand that reflecting the convent-girl origins of this character in the modern day was gonna be tricky, but the modern-day equivalent Marber comes up with is not particularly believable. Rather than a nun he’s lured away from the convent to marry/take the virginity of, as in Moliere’s play, in this play Elvira is a charity worker who, after a two-year pursuit, DJ has finally persuaded to marry him. The reasons he wanted to marry her are the same as in the original: she’s a virgin, and won’t sleep with him before marriage. Once they’ve had their honeymoon, he’s off to bed Croatian supermodels, done with her now that he’s finally had sex with her. 

The suspension of disbelief comes in twofold: firstly, we have to accept that Stan and Elvira’s brother throwing around the words ‘she was an innocent’ and ‘she was pure’ (and the implication that she has now been corrupted) are likely phrases to be said these days. I mean, come off it. Secondly, Elvira’s speech - about DJ being terrible but at least he opened her up to physical pleasure! At least he showed her how magnificent all these filthy fantasies she didn’t know she had could be! She won’t be with him now she knows what he’s really like but she still loves him and always will! - all of that nonsense, it just didn’t ring true. Especially as we come into their relationship just as they are back from their honeymoon and he’s sleeping with someone else, so we don’t even get to see evidence of how he charmed her in the first place (she references that he was sweet and kind and acted so in love, but we never see these traits in DJ at all.) The actress playing Elvira, Danielle Vitalis, didn’t give a particularly strong performance imo, but I honestly don’t know how much of that was really her fault, given the ridiculous lines she had to say.

The final thing that rubbed me up the wrong way was the monologue near the end. The disdain for millennials from middle-aged male writers made a jump from online articles to stage with this one, or, if not targetted at that generation specifically this time, then at least at this digital day and age we currently live in. It elicited rapturous applause from the audience, and yeah, the ‘welcome to my vlog; today i bought a plum’ line was amusingly delivered, but I have no time for a character who is morally bankrupt claiming the moral high ground simply because he finds selfie/social media culture undignified and lacking in class. I might agree with him on his comments on the value of privacy, but this dude is shamelessly shagging his way through Soho (christ, I’ve caught Marber’s alliteration bug) and so I think his sermon on hypocrisy is a little tone deaf.

Are we expected to equate the unapologetic, relentless pursuit of ‘skirt, or occasionally, trouser’ with a life lived to the full, a life celebrating ‘free will and answering to nobody?’ It’d be one thing if DJ genuinely loved women, as in loved in the way dt’s Casanova loved women; a seducer and a bit of a cad, sure, but one who at least respected and admired rather than objectified women. But DJ generally seems to have contempt for them bubbling under the surface, and in any case, the only reason he is able to pursue this kind of life - one sexual dalliance to the next, a snort of cocaine here, a cigarette and a scotch there - is because his father is rich and can fund such an elite lifestyle. There’s also your typical middle-aged male writer cynicism about love dressed up as a philosophical, salient point about the unnaturalness of monogamy as opposed to the natural state of man being to ‘hunt his prey.’ Marber, mate - you ain’t saying anything new, here. Writers just like you wheel out this faux-philosophy about the human condition more times than I can count, and all it ever really tells me is that you wish you had the guilt-free option to have an affair yourself.

I say all this because it’s quite hard for me to decipher what Marber really wants us to take from this play. DJ is warned of his reckoning, promptly feigns contrition to ensure his father doesn’t cut him off, but feels no actual guilt or compulsion to change his ways. He then eventually gets his comeuppance, and Stan regularly tells us how despicable he is, but I still get the impression that, in spite of Stan’s warning, ‘please don’t be charmed, he’s not a loveable rogue,’ that’s exactly what’s expected of us. Indeed, Stan says at one point ‘just as we were starting to warm up to him!’ (I think after the homeless man scene.) But I…..was never charmed. Not even for a second. I don’t think anyone could be? Honestly? Because he clearly is despicable, he has no compassion, is selfish to the extreme, has received all the luxury and privilege being the heir to an earldom affords him, with none of the responsibility, has never worked a day in his life, and has only limited affection for even the one person closest to him (Stan, an employee he never pays and treats abominably.) As dt has postulated in interviews, DJ is a sociopath. And yet we are subjected to a lecture from him on the indignity of a world of selfies and vlogs and hypocrisy, as though those things, vainglorious though they can sometimes be, are more sinister and morally corrupt than his objectification and dismissal of every woman he comes across. It’s a bit hard to swallow, frankly.

DJ has great hair, tailored suits, tiny red pants, and the innumerable benefits afforded to him by virtue of being played by david tennant. But he’s never particularly charming. We never see anything of the kindness and gentleness that so charmed Elvira into marrying him. We never really see him seduce anyone, aside from Lottie (this seduction is essentially him groping her boobs in the guise of being a ‘specialist doctor,’ complimenting her assets and telling her she shouldn’t change herself in any way [she’d mentioned she wanted a boob job]) and the only other time we see him in a sexual situation is with four prostitutes, and he has evidently paid for their company. But we hear he has had sex with three different women a day for the last 25 years, and that he is ‘extremely fuckable.’ I mean, yes, to look at him, clearly sexy af. Yet I feel there was a twinkle in the eye missing for anyone to actually be compelled to go for it with him; for comparison, rather than returning to dt’s Casanova again, I’m now thinking about Tom Ellis in Lucifer, who does play a loveable rogue, and the contrast is pretty clear.

And I bring this up because I’m left here thinking: if there’s nothing really interesting about DJ, if he really is just one-dimensional, and selfish, a destructive man with delusions of self-importance, who’d ‘fuck a hole in the ozone layer’ if he could, then....why? Why are we interested in this man? Would we sit there and watch two hours of a female character doing the same thing? Would anyone even bother writing that, let alone consider producing it? I don’t think they would.

It’s an entertaining play because dt and adrian breathe humour into a script that is, occasionally, lifeless. They can’t save every line, but their chemistry is great and their relish for these parts is evident. The play isn’t as shocking or as funny or even as filthy as you’d expect, and I don’t think it taps into the moral quagmire it thinks it does; honestly, it’s pretty standard stuff. I still don’t know quite what Marber’s going for. Of course, there doesn’t necessarily need to be a ‘message’ or a twist or a social commentary to be figured out within a production. But I think if you’re adapting something that plays with the idea of a libertine repenting through fear of death/hell, and if you feel that won’t resonate in a contemporary setting, then the stakes ought to be raised in another way. The spectre of impending doom looming over him is pretty lacklustre, and, given that DJ would rather die as he lived than profess a simple apology to save himself, the ending isn’t very evocative at all - it’s actually a bit dull.

Best bits:

DJ & Stan’s duet

dt’s hair

stan’s endless exasperation at DJ’s antics

the hospital scene

the tight blue suit

dt looking so happy flying overhead in a rickshaw (despite the ridiculous statue driving it)

stan’s last few lines

i cannot stress this enough: dt looked super hot

Worst bits:

the homeless man scene

the patronising tirade against this vain new world

the elvira plot

the statue coming alive and foretelling his doom a la marley’s ghost in a christmas carol

the lacklustre ending

3/5 stars, could’ve been a lot better. with a different writer. and plot. 😂

#don juan in soho #laura's theatre adventures #ok exactly none of you really want a three thousand word review of this play lmao #but that's what i have provided #goodnighttttttttt

[artificialqueens]

Coming Home Chapter 7 (Shalaska) - Jem

AN: I realize it’s march but I always love a good holiday special. Thank you all for continuing to support this story ❤. This chapter is a bit longer to help make up for my hiatus.

Summary: Everyday is Christmas

After years of horrible Christmas days in their youth, Sharon and Alaska had become accustomed to celebrating Christmas on December 24th instead. Christmas Eve was a day reserved for them and the people they really truly loved, not just those who were related by blood. It was no different this year, even though they had Violet.

They’d decorated the apartment with various Christmas trinkets, and they even had a small tree squished in the corner of the living room. Alaska had made the mistake of letting Sharon do the tree this year, which meant it was an amalgamation of reindeer, snowflakes, and of course, a set of skeleton lights they had bought at Halloween. It was cute and tacky and somehow perfectly represented their personalities.

Violet was a bit nervous as it was the first holiday she was spending with Sharon and Alaska. Similarly to her two foster parents, Christmas was rarely a day worth celebrating for her. When she’d been young, she’d barely known the holiday existed; her mother had never had money or motivation to do gifts or dinner or even decorate. Even once she’d been placed in the foster system and passed from family to family, she’d always been left out. Christmas was always something that everyone else celebrated, but not her, a foreign entity that was hard to understand.

It didn’t seem like it was going to be too much of a big ordeal, however. Sharon and Alaska had only decided to invite one of their close friends over, Jinkx, who arrived promptly at 7:00 pm.

“Alaska, Sharon, darlings.” Jinx greeted each of them with a kiss on the cheek. She stepped back, noticing Violet standing behind them.

“And you must be the wonderful Violet that I hear so much about.” Jinkx extended a manicured hand to the teen, who shook it tentatively without saying a word. It surprised her, for some odd reason, to think that Sharon and Alaska told people about her. They seemed so isolated from the rest of the world sometimes.

“Merry Christmas, Jinkxy,” Alaska told her, taking her coat to hang in the closet. “Come on in, Sharon will get you a drink.”

“Are you guys still on this whole Christmas thing? Neither of you are Christian, you could celebrate anything.”

“I’ve tried to tell her we should convert to satanism, Jinkx, I’ve really tried.” Sharon said seriously as she poured the redhead a glass of red wine.

“Oh Sharon, you know that’s not what I mean. I love the holidays. I just thought maybe we could light the menorah this year, for little old me. It’s the 24th after all, and the first day of Hanukkah lines up with it.”

“Well we’ve still got the one you left here last year, so go ahead and do it if you’d like.” Alaska came back into the kitchen, holding said menorah. “But the Christmas music stays.”

A gentle ringing of bells floated over from the speakers.

“I feel like meshing up all of these religious traditions must be worse than just celebrating Christmas without being Christian.” Sharon pointed out.

“They’re all just capitalist holidays anyways, my dear, and I shall celebrate them all together as I please.” Jinkx explained with a flurry of hand gestures.

Alaska invited Violet over the the kitchen, noticing the girl had been very quiet.

“I know I’m quite the character.” Jinkx turned toward her. “But I swear I don’t bite.”

Violet tried to force a smile, but it tugged at her cheeks in a funny way. Jinkx seemed sweet, and hardly someone to be afraid of, but something in her was terrified of making a bad impression. It was like she was waiting for Sharon and Alaska to realize they had made a horrible mistake in taking her in. What if Jinkx was the person to finally point it out to them?

It was a completely absurd train of thought, and Violet knew it. She stopped her brain from wandering and forced herself to speak.

“I know I have a resting bitch face, but I don’t bite either.”

Jinkx laughed, and Sharon and Alaska joined in. The awkwardness melted away.

“So how do you know Sharon and Alaska?” Violet asked the redhead.

“Me and Lask go way back to our pageant days, but me and Sharon work in the same office now.”

“It’s a small world.” Alaska smiled as she spoke.

“Yeah, and once I met these two fools, they just couldn’t get rid of me.”

“We wouldn’t want to.” Alaska added.

“Well…..” Sharon joked, squeezing Jinkx gently on the shoulder.

Jinkx nursed her wine a little longer, and Sharon offered Violet a glass. However, she really preferred not to drink and joined Alaska in grabbing some sparkling cranberry juice instead.

“Are you all hungry? Because I’ve prepared a beautiful feast for all of us tonight.” Sharon said proudly.

“And by prepared she means we got postmates.” Alaska clarified. “We don’t cook, right Violet?”

“I’m fifteen and I can make a meal better than both of you combined. Did you know they burned spaghetti the other day, Jinkx? Spaghetti!”

“That sounds about right.” Jinkx laughed. “One of these years you can all come over to mine for the holidays instead. I actually do cook. Or at least let me bring something here when I offer, every single year.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Sharon asked, grabbing Alaska’s hand and giving it a soft kiss.

“Don’t these two just drive you crazy with the lovey dovey stuff? I can’t imagine being around it all the time.”

Violet laughed. Sharon and Alaska were extremely mushy, but there was something kind of nice about the fact that seemed to love and respect each other so much. Violet didn’t actually find it annoying.

They ate their meal joyfully, and Violet helped Sharon clean up as Alaska and Jinkx settled down in the living room.

When Violet went to join them after finishing up she felt a little bit uneasy. As she sat in a chair next Jinkx she realized that there was a pile of gifts under the tree and she hadn’t bought a single one for her foster parents.

Jinkx looked about ready to hop out of her chair with excitement. The woman quickly grabbed two snowflake-covered bags and handed them to Sharon and Alaska.

They both reached into the bags to find a crudely hand-knitted sweater for each of them. Alaska’s was a more traditional ugly Christmas sweater with a reindeer on the front. There were bells sewn onto the piece so that it would be just the right amount of annoying as she walked around wearing it. Sharon’s sweater was, no surprise, a Halloween one. It had the words “witch please” knitted on it with a picture of a witch flying in front of the moon. Sound effects hadn’t been forgotten there either, a pat on the shoulder gave a nice loud “Boo!” which had Sharon cackling with laughter as she immediately put on the garment. The bottom of their bags held a few gift cards to their favourite stores and a nice Hallmark card to put up on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Aw, thanks Jinkxy!” Alaska exclaimed, going up to embrace her friend. She passed over her and Sharon’s gift to Jinkx, which was a pack of her favourite cookies and a matching set of earrings and a necklace she’d been eyeing on an earlier shopping trip. There was a lot of love going around.

Jinkx even had a small gift for Violet, which the girl protested against.

“I don’t need anything.” She told the redhead.

“Oh nonsense, it was nothing, I wanted to.”

Inside the bag was a pretty pink lounge robe that looked warm and comfy for around the house but could even be dressed up for a more classy look. Violet couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face. She thanked Jinkx profusely, and the woman looked very pleased with Violet’s reaction.

Finally, Alaska and Sharon went to grab their gifts for Violet from under the tree. She began to open them a bit meekly, overwhelmed with having so many things she’d never even dreamt of receiving. They’d bought her a couple magazine subscriptions, some black heels in her size, gift cards to some decent clothing and makeup stores, and a rather impressive palette of eyeshadow. Her final gift was just a 9 by 12 yellow envelope, which she opened to reveal a pile of paperwork.

Violet looked up at Sharon and Alaska, puzzled. They just smiled at her so she began to look through the papers.

“What?” She asked in disbelief.

“We’ve done almost all the paperwork, and after all this time it’s finally been cleared. I think there’s just one more piece to sign.” Alaska babbled.

“What we’re saying is, would you like to officially become our daughter?” Sharon gave Violet a hopeful smile.

“Yes!” She squealed, completely overwhelmed with happiness. She could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes as Sharon and Alaska wrapped her in their arms. She’d never imagined she would be adopted. She was just a few years off being 18 now that she’d figured she’d just have to wait a little longer to be out of the system, but this was better than she ever could have imagined.

“Of course we’ll discuss with you and your social worker about if you want any contact with your birth mother, but don’t worry about it too much. We just want you to be a part of the decision making process.” Alaska assured Violet in their hug.

As she pulled away from the warm embrace and wiped her eyes she said, “I feel terrible I didn’t get anything for you guys.” Her voice was a little shaky.

“You said yes, what else could we possibly need? Right, Shar?” Alaska reached to pull her partner closer.

“Can I be auntie Jinkx, then?” Jinkx asked Sharon and Alaska, and she was a little teary-eyed at the scene. “You two are my sisters, after all.”

“Of course Jinkx.”

The rest of the night passed just as smoothly. They settled down to watch some Hallmark Christmas movies that Sharon complained about the entire time. They were extremely cheesy, with bad sets and worse acting, but it felt just right.

With her new family surrounding her, Violet had never felt more loved in her entire life.

————

Violet knew very little about Alyssa Edwards. She’d heard she was kooky and glamorous and sweet, but she’d never had the chance to talk to the girl.

She sure did know how to throw a New Year’s party though.

Violet had been roped into attending by Trixie and Fame, and after they’d volunteered to help style her, it hadn’t been hard to agree.

The party’s theme had been black and white, so Violet was wearing one of Fame’s dresses, a cute, tight black dress with tasteful white appliqué. Her friends had done her makeup and hair for her (well Katya helped by sitting still) and all four of them looked stunning. When they arrived at the party, Violet was ready to slay them all with her look, and she was barely even nervous.

Almost as soon as they arrived, her little posse broke up to mingle, and Violet found herself searching through the crowd for some familiar faces. Alyssa must have invited the whole school, it was so packed inside her house.

She spotted Max from afar in the living room, and it looked like she was arguing with a blonde boy whose face she couldn’t see. Violet walked over to interject. “Hey Max, is this guy giving you trouble?”

Oh shit. As the boy turned around, Violet berated herself for not realizing it was Matt. She tried not to look shocked.

“It’s fine, Matt was just leaving.” Max said coldly, giving Matt a stern look.

“See you around, Violet.” He said rather calmly, turning over his shoulder to leave.

“What’s up?” Violet asked the pale girl. Not oblivious to the tension between her two friends(?).

“He can just be so infuriating sometimes!” Max complained, obviously frustrated. “He does have more of a personality than a brick wall, but he sure is selective about when he shows it.”

“I get what you mean.” Violet agreed. “How do you know him?”

“Him and Tracy–Trixie, were friends before I was homeschooled, so I saw him pretty often. He’s a sweet boy, really, with a lot of potential; he just likes to waste it.”

That was pretty much what Violet got from the boy as well.

“Nevermind him, we should still be able to have a good time.” Max brushed it all off and grabbed Violet’s hand to lead her to the kitchen, and subsequently, the alcohol. Violet tensed up a bit as Max refilled her drink and poured one for Violet. She was looking at her expectantly so Violet did her best to take a sip. She didn’t know how she hadn’t realized that Max was already a bit drunk before. The girl was usually very calculated, but she’d loosened up completely.

Violet trailed behind Max for awhile, but it wasn’t long before the girl was talking with a group of people that Violet didn’t know. The circle was completely closed off, and she had little desire to have to make petty small talk with them. She moved around the floor and there were just so many people she didn’t know. She felt so small and insignificant in the large group of upperclassmen swimming around her.

“Hey, babe, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” An older boy with dark hair and pale eyes tapped her on the shoulder.

“It’s my first time here.” Violet tried to be polite but she really just wanted to find her friends.

“I’d be happy to show you around.” The boy told her, obviously trying to flirt and though Violet was flattered, she was having none of it.

“Can you hold my drink?” She asked, already handing the half-empty cup into his hand. It was a bit of a bitchy move but there was nowhere to put it down and she didn’t feel like finishing it. From there, she pushed her way out of the crowd, finally spotting Fame laughing with one of the girls from their chemistry class.

As soon as she walked up, it was like Fame already knew what she was going to say. She excused herself from the conversation she’d been having and hooked her arm through Violet’s to find somewhere a bit more private.

They settled on sitting in a quiet corner of the living room, where a group was playing spin the bottle and wouldn’t notice them off to the side.

“I’m sorry,” Violet would have liked to have a good time and get loose, but she’d been on her toes her whole life and couldn’t quite bring herself to be free. I don’t drink you know?” She said as if it explained everything.

“Me neither, I get it.” Fame squeezed her hand. She understood the whole ‘fear of addiction’ thing better than anyone.

“I just feel so out of place. Like, I know I’m kind of a bitch sometimes but I feel really alienated today and everyone is drunk and I’m not.”

“You know Kat and Trix and I, and even Max, love you, right?”

“That’s just so foreign to me, Fame. I’ve never really had friends, I’ve never been nice or normal or permanent enough.”

“You are perfect Violet.” Sometimes Violet didn’t know how to respond to Fame’s unabashed compliments.

“Sharon and Alaska are adopting me.” She changed the subject.

“Really? Violet, that’s so amazing!”

“It is, it really is.”

“But?”

“It’s silly and childish.” She brushed it off. “It’s just, the first step of the adoption process is the birth parents giving up parental rights. And honestly, my mother gave up that role in my life the second my dad left but it’s just…”

“It’s explicit now, it’s in writing.”

“Exactly.” Violet nodded. “And Sharon and Alaska are everything that I have ever wanted in parents, so it feels stupid to be hung up on it.”

“I think it’s normal to be sad at the feeling of being abandoned. But Violet, Sharon and Alaska chose you. Out of all the kids in the world they could have had they chose you. That’s a big deal.”

“I don’t know why they did, honestly.”

“You’re really special Violet, you know that right?”

“Thanks, Fame. You’re really special too.” She gave her friend a hug, and stood up. “I’m gonna go find the bathroom.”

She walked down the hallway, finally finding what she was pretty sure was a bathroom. She opened the door, only to have her eyes fall upon Katya and Trixie making out against the wall.

“Oh my god, you guys.” She yelled, breaking the two apart. Trixie’s cheeks were red with embarrassment and Katya just licked her lips and smiled. “Lock the door or something next time, would you?” She scolded, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her cheeks. She had sensed some kind of tension between the two so it wasn’t much of a surprise.

“There’s another bathroom one floor up.” Katya told Violet as she closed the door.

“Thanks!” Violet yelled back. She took the staircase up to the next level, and it was much quieter there. It looked like where more of the bedrooms were, and Violet spotted a door with a bedazzled “Alyssa” written on it in pink.

She pushed the door of the bathroom open and sure enough, there was someone in there again. She just couldn’t get a break tonight, could she?

The figure on the floor looked up at her and sniffled.

“Matt?” She asked, recognizing that face but not the distraught expression.

“Shit, Violet. I’ll leave.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it, bitch.” Violet said. “Look, I really need to pee but if you go outside and wait for me we can talk.”

Violet used the bathroom and luckily Matt was still sitting out in the hallway when she finished. He looked completely different than he did at school, all of the cockiness he usually had was gone.

“Rough night?” Violet asked, moving to join him.

“I guess.” Matt said quietly. “My parents were just being shitty and now I’m here and I’m not really in the mood for all the boy talk.”

“What was going on with you and Max earlier?”

“I was just being an asshole, like usual.”

“You know you can choose not to be.” Violet pointed out.

“I don’t get how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“The unshakeable confidence thing. Like, you know who you are and you don’t let anyone change that.”

“I just don’t care about anyone else.” Violet said bluntly. “Ok, maybe that’s not quite true. I’ve had to be my own support system my whole life, and I wouldn’t have been able to survive if I didn’t tell myself that I’m great.”

“What does it mean if I like you?” Matt asked, and suddenly his face was really close to hers.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Before anything could go further, Matt turned around and threw up on the nice, polished, hardwood floor.

The crowd downstairs began to yell as the countdown started at ten. As it made it down to one Violet helped Matt to his feet, cleaned him up, and delivered him back to his friends and the rest of the party.

New Year’s kisses were overrated anyways.

#coming home #jem #alaska thunderfuck #sharon needles #violet chachki #miss fame #pearl liaison #max malanaphy #jinkx monsoon #shalaska #hurt/comfort #fluff #parent #child #lesbian au #rpdr fanfiction #submission

[louisysl]

I’m pasting a snippet of my wip, Heilig, mainly for my own safekeeping as it is the same snippet I tend to send whenever somebody asks for one, but also for any curious eye with a couple minutes to waste. It contains no spoilers as far as the storyline goes, in case anyone was wondering.

The party is hosted at the finest mansion of the island. Long, grandiloquent columns support the nearly ostentatious building, waterfalls framing the entrance. At the door stand two doormen, both clad in expensive suits and movie-like sunglasses, highly unnecessary given the dark night.

As someone who’s only ever been to the front yard, Louis is undeniably curious to see if the mansion will meet his expectations. He’s more excited than he is nervous, walking through the crowded front yard with a tight hold on Niall’s hand, so as not to lose him.

In eight inch heels, one might expect Louis to tower over most partygoers; and truth be told, he can see over most men they pass, but as seems to be the theme of most parties thrown around their neighborhood, most partiers are women in high heels.

Coming to a stall near the waterfalls by the entry, Niall turns around. “Maybe we should stay outside for a bit? Not look so eager to go in?”

Louis huffs, pushing past him. “I don’t give a rat’s trembling whisker if they think I’m eager. You dragged me here, I might as well make it worth it by snooping around the mansion. Besides, Kat’s probably inside already.”

As was to be expected, Niall’s eyes light up at the mention of her name, and he follows Louis to the doors easily enough. In a party of Styles’, your face is your ticket, and while Louis has never seen either of the men standing before him, he and Niall are let through without a second glance.

The doors open to a spacious lobby. It’s just as pretentious inside as it is outside; marble floors and skinny black railings, white walls lit with clear lights. There’s a staircase to the right behind a pillar, and a door to the backyard after the spacious hallway decorated tastefully with plants on the windowsills of the pass-through walls on each sides of the hallway, behind both of which is a decorative waterfall.

Louis wonders oddly if the waterfalls are behind crystal clear windows, for there are no splashes of water on the floor, but he doesn’t dare test the theory.

Everything as far as the eye can see is clean, enough so that they can see their odd reflections on most surfaces that they pass by as they follow the sound of music. Before following Niall upstairs, Louis spares a glance at the empty backyard, making a mental notice to find a silent moment to go explore the garden there.

His heels click noisily with every step he takes. Niall grins at him over his shoulder, waiting for him at the top of the stairs. The view outside is stunning as they turn around, leaning against the railing preventing them from falling off the open platform the stairs led up to; a full moon against a clear, dark sky, illuminating silvery rays of moonlight on the wall behind them.

“This is fancier than I expected”, Niall whispers, eyeing the blend of moonlight and shadows on the wall. “I feel like we’re seriously trespassing, or something.”

Louis can’t help but agree; the music isn’t exactly loud, and neither are the voices conversing in soft tones. All noises are coming right behind the wall they’re standing by, and the only logical explanation is that the party inside is barely a party at all – a private gathering sounds more appropriate.

“Well, we came all this way. Might as well at least peek behind the wall, yeah?”

Niall doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he shrugs, and despite the frown between his brows, he pushes past Louis.

It’s nothing like Louis had expected.

It isn’t your ordinary parlor (as if the fact alone that it is a parlor of all things wasn’t absurd enough). The room offers a striking contrast to the rest of the mansion, dark floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covering each wall. Despite being dark, the room is spacious, lounge chairs and sofas arranged in a tasteful yet practical fashion.

There’s an entry to a living room with a fireplace on the right, a room likely separated from the books in fear of a fire hazard. As far as Louis can tell from where he stands, there doesn’t seem to be any sofas in the living room, the floor instead covered in comfy-looking pillows and, to his surprise, bean bags as basic as they come.

As for the people currently occupying the room – Louis can name them all.

Liam, Zayn, and Sebastian are stretched out on two of the sofas by the back wall, most of Zayn covered by Liam’s body. On the floor between the sofas is Styles, sitting cross-legged with an open book on his lap, a book which he doesn’t seem to be currently reading, absorbed in a conversation with Sebastian as he appears to be.

Louis can’t help but notice it mustn’t be very comfortable for Harry to be sat like that, without a pillow on a thin carpet.

Kat and Melanie are cuddling on an armchair, Kat mindlessly playing with Melanie’s hair. There’s a cat at their feet, one Louis hasn’t seen before, but it’s purring softly and rubbing its head on their feet, and Louis is helplessly endeared.

Instead of waiting to be noticed, Niall clears his throat, startling everyone safe for Harry, who doesn’t even bother turning around. Kat, however, squeals happily, untangling herself from Melanie gently before rushing to the two of them, embracing Louis in a tight hug.

“Thank Satan you came”, she sighs, rubbing his back. “Here I feared I’d have to deal with Niall all by myself.”

Louis chuckles. “You know how he is. Forced me to come, the little minx, yet he’s likely going to leave me within a minute to go snog you”, he pokes her side with his forefinger accusingly, “in some room I can’t find, and I’ll have no choice but to awkwardly wait in my lonesome for the two of you to finish.”

Giggling, Kat shakes her head vigorously, “No, no!”

“Bet you a dollar.”

“A dollar? My, my, you get cockier each time I see your pretty face”, she tuts.

“It’s the compliments”, Louis assures with a kiss to her cheek.

With Kat moving on to embrace Niall in a hug much too sensual, Louis gets an opportunity to observe the familiar, if not particularly friendly faces now gathered in a group. It seems absurd to Louis, how Styles is sat in the middle of the odd circle formed by his friends, as though he’s the center of it all – of the universe, Louis thinks bitterly. He’s probably the type to think it all revolves around him. If he was a planet, reckons Louis he’d be Jupiter; bigger than all others though no competition to sun, his friends like the sixty-seven moons; helpless to his gravity.

It’s Sebastian who makes the first move, face lighting up in a smile that seems rather genuine. “Tomlinson”, he says, head tilted as he walks forward with his hands outstretched.

Feeling mildly awkward, Louis gathers his composure and works up a smile. “Sebastian”, he greets, the smile on the man’s face widening at the friendliness of his greeting.

“First names, hm?”

“You shouldn’t let your surroundings fool you. We live in the modern day.”

“I dare say, that has been said for centuries before us, and that history you’re referring to once wasn’t quite as romantic.”

Louis snorts. “Oddly poetic, you are. Is that what you do here? Read and practice poetry in hopes of seducing a lover too stupid to detect the act?”

Sebastian smiles prettily, lashes grazing his cheeks in a blink slower than the ordinary. “Should I think I could seduce you, would be an insult to your wit, my darling.”

“An insult to my wit”, he repeats, pursing his lips in wonder.

The silence that follows doesn’t last for long. As Sebastian turns and goes to whisper something in Harry’s ear, Zayn walks up to Louis. He’s got this ethereal, cool air to him that Louis has never really cared for like many others, but he can tell, up close like this, why people think him so unapproachable.

“We were just about to head down”, says Zayn, fixing his hair in a smooth flick of his wrist.

There was a time, few years ago, when Louis wanted to learn more about Zayn; he’s always taken unnatural interest to humans, found some so irresistible they’ve taken up his mind entirely for days, even weeks at a time.

Zayn, he recalls, didn’t hold his interest for long.

One doesn’t have to spend long with a person to realize they’re putting up an act. The reason isn’t always as easy to tell, though usually it comes down to an insistent need to fit in while still holding a place of importance, for which one would need to stand out from the crowd; though not so much as to appear a freak.

Zayn’s a textbook case of just that, to Louis’ disappointment.

What was even more disappointing to figure out was how, frankly, boring company Zayn was. It’s not like Louis’ spent tons of time with the guy – but he’s tagged along some time or another as Niall’s friend, and with the intrigue of his act gone, he’s no less or more than a pretty face for one to admire.

Niall once called Zayn art, and Louis laughed so hard his tummy hurt with it. It’s not that Zayn, in his own way, isn’t art – he is. He’s beautiful, possibly the most physically beautiful person Louis has ever laid eyes upon.

And to someone not all too interested in art, he may just appear the most beautiful piece of art they ever have laid eyes upon.

Louis isn’t particularly into art, would never claim to have an eye for it. But he can appreciate beauty in its many forms, and Zayn’s beauty is almost boring, in that it is indeed so perfect. He misses that quirk that would complete him; there isn’t an eyelash out of place.

It could, of course, be argued that his undeniable perfection would make up for the lack of flaw.

At the end of the day, to Louis, Zayn is just another pretty face in a sea of pretty faces, standing out only due to his outstanding features.

But to be so beautiful, yet so dull, to Louis, is tragic.

Obviously, Louis doesn’t only hang around people he finds intriguing. Everyone, at some point or another, becomes dull in one’s eyes; it’s never a question of if, but of when.

Niall is a great example of someone Louis never was all too interested in. Niall has always been an open book, bright in not only his spirit but his wit. Regardless, there has never been so much as a shadow of mystery to him.

But Niall makes up for it with his personality. It’s not an interesting one – but it’s undeniably fun, and more importantly, one would struggle to find a friend more loyal and caring than him.

As much as Louis would like to, he can’t walk through life collecting people. He would, if he could. There’s nothing so interesting to him as people are, and if he could only bottle up the brilliance of a human mind – if he could carry around with him the brilliance of people…

He huffs out a breath he’d mindlessly been holding, searching for Niall with his eyes. He’s not hard to spot, all over Kat as he still is. Louis can’t really blame him for it. If he was into women, Kat without a doubt would be hard to resist.

She’s great company. What Louis most adores about her is her strength and stubbornness. She’s never afraid to give back as good as she gets, at times even better. Her bright nature compliments Niall’s, and her tendency to take consequences into accord have saved Niall’s ass more than once.

All in all, the two of them would make a lovely couple, should they ever desire to go there. They’re both free spirits, however. Both much too thrilled to explore the world and people to be happy in a relationship.

Well, that’s what Niall told him once, anyway. If you ask Louis, the two of them could be amazing as a couple, exploring the world together- exploring people together; neither of them have a jealous bone in their body.

Frankly, Louis has never met two people more eligible for polyamory than the two of them.

Uncaring of the minutes that have passed, Louis turns his attention to Zayn with a quirked brow. “The one downstairs?”

Zayn’s eyes snap to him. He makes a face before huffing, “No.”

Sometimes, just sometimes, Louis wishes he could tell Zayn to… well, stop. But he’d rather not crush the poor man’s illusion.

“They’re taking us to Finland”, grins Niall, appearing from behind Zayn’, cheeks tinted pink and eyes bright.

“Finland?”

“Yeah, you know”, Niall vaguely motions with his hand, “Santa and shit.”

“I know what Finland is”, Louis rolls his eyes. “But what the bloody heck makes you think I’m getting on a plane to Finland in this”, he grabs the front of his shirt and lets the fishnet slap against his chest as he lets the material slip through his fingers. “And without warning, no less?”

From across the room, Harry’s eyes flicker to Louis. Louis isn’t entirely sure he doesn’t imagine the faint curiosity of his gaze.

Zayn, who’d been silently following the scene before him, looks at Louis now with a hint of pity to his expression. “Nobody here cares to take a plane to Finland.”

Letting out a noise of distress, Louis shifts his weight onto his left leg. “What?”

Sebastian takes pity on his confusion and smiles from next to Harry. It’s an odd contrast to Harry’s obvious disinterest; he’s twirling a curl of his unruly hair in his fingers, eyes set on Louis.

“We aren’t going to Finland. We’re going to a winter party across the lake, and Kat mentioned Santa. Niall insisted he comes from the North Pole”, Sebastian waves his hand around, as if to vanish the subject from the air. Probably because he doesn’t find it poetic enough, Louis grins to himself mischievously.

Choosing not to question their decision to attend a party not thrown by them when Harry’s supposed to be hosting the one downstairs, Louis takes a few steps to the side as the others slowly make their way downstairs.

He’s surprised to witness the order in which they all leave the room; Liam, with his arm wrapped loosely around Zayn, is the first to go, Kat, Niall, Sebastian, and Melanie stumbling behind them in a laughing, loud mess of bodies tangled together. They appear drunk despite the lack of alcohol in their system.

Louis would give a lot to feel ease like theirs.

Just as he’s about to follow the racy group, a soft thud stops his step halfway, making him stumble over his feet. In his confusion over the fact that Harry hadn’t lead the group out, as he’d thought he would, for Harry’s clearly the uncrowned king of the group, he’d completely forgotten what his absence from the front would inevitably mean.

He’s not sure whether he should turn around, perhaps ask Harry if he’s coming, or if he should just leave him behind and follow the group. He’d feel terribly odd waiting for Harry, seeing as they’ve never so much as exchanged a greeting, but the thought of leaving him behind makes him uneasy.

And while curiosity may have killed the cat, it’s always been one of Louis’ biggest weaknesses. A slave to his nature as he is, Louis turns around with his arm still resting against the wall separating the room from the stairs.

The thud, it appears, had been caused by Harry sitting down on one of the pillows laid out on the floor. He’s not doing anything, really, but sitting there with his legs stretched out before him, crossed from the angles, head resting against the bookshelf and hooded eyes set on Louis.

If it wasn’t for the genuine lack of interest in the deep green of his irises, Louis probably would’ve turned back around and caught up with the group. But it’s that clear indifference to Louis’ companion or lack thereof that makes him curious to stay.

It’s silent, and odd, in the most curious of ways, as Louis walks to Harry, who isn’t looking at him now, his attention caught by a piece of paper on his palm that he’s thumbing mindlessly. Louis can see gracious curves of words written in black ink that’s bled through the stained paper.

It’s just as Louis’ about to sit down that Harry stands up, something in his eyes that might have edged on playful if it wasn’t for the cruel burn of his gaze. Wordlessly, Harry drops the ball of paper on Louis’ lap, the side of his calf crazing Louis’ side as he walks past.

The sound of Harry’s footsteps melts away as the words written on the paper disassociate his mind from everything around him.

Father where to find you?

Louis swallows around the bitter taste of the words, brows furrowing involuntarily as he huffs air out of his lungs. He looks up only to be met with an empty room; Harry’s already gone, nothing but the poisonous words on the crumbled-up paper left in his wake.

It’s cruel.

It was never a secret, that Louis’ father died. He was known, if not loved, by the entire island, and his death was discussed in the newspapers as much as it was gossiped downtown; the chances of Harry not having heard were a flat zero.

Pressing his palm upon his heart in an attempt to calm down its rapid beat, Louis blinks away his tears before they have a chance to fall; to bring him down with them.

Drawing his legs to his chest, Louis wraps an arm around them, holding up the paper with the other. The words are blurry through his wet gaze, but they burn the same.

Hell, Louis wants to say. Hell is where his father would be found. He’d be embraced by Satan himself at the gates of Hell, crowned the new ruler of the great downstairs. He never did sin, and who better to punish those who sin, than one who hasn’t?

And he’d punish Harry, take him from earth prematurely like he had been taken from Louis.

But then is there a Hell greater than earth itself? Harry must know earthly Hell. No man who’s never been hurt would wish to ever write something so cruel to another, for he wouldn’t know such cruelty.

Why would Harry wish to hurt Louis? They’ve never taken particular interest on one another, never looked twice in passing.

If one stared at a picture of Harry Styles, they wouldn’t imagine him cruel. His long curls make him appear most royal, his dimples giving him boyish innocence that flatter the kindhearted. Often, he looks very human. There’s softness to his features, softness which he seems to take full advantage of.

Oddly, Louis wants to know more about him. Wants to study him but do so in secret. One doesn’t study Harry Styles in secret, though, for he’s much too aware of his surroundings even if he may not appear so.

With his uneven lips and barely-there forehead lines, Styles is human. Despite what Louis may have thought not long ago, Styles doesn’t seem to bother putting up an act, either. It is as though he truly is completely unbothered by most everything, from those around him to his surroundings.

Humans, while endlessly interesting for their flaws, often bore Louis. It’s the sudden awakening following every obsession that makes it all so depressing. If it wasn’t for the transparency that humanity curses one with, perhaps his obsessions would last beyond those two weeks that they tend to.

#mine #wip #my fic #whenever people go ''oh have you published anything?'' #i'm like ......well a shitty phone sex fic sure......... which isn't written well and which #i'm not particularly proud of #hence why i chose this snippet of my new fic that i #feel represents me better as a writer than that one shot does