#I’ve had more than my fair share of miserable evenings recently thank you very much

[malachitezmeyka]

It’s all “take care of your inner child!! Treat them the way you wanted to be treated years ago and it’ll help you heal!!” until said inner child is throwing a tantrum about having to go eat dinner

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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[plant-flwrs]

hi! could you do a draco x reader imagine where it’s enemies to lovers and one night at a party draco gets drunk and confesses his feelings?

drunk // draco malfoy

masterlist!

a/n: i literally had an idea exactly like this n my drafts omg but it was smut :0 wut r the odds. n e way, hope u like it, thanks for the request anon!!

summary: You and Draco are enemies until one drunken night leads to a confession of secret feelings.

(4.4k)

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It was no secret that the Slytherin house was plagued by Draco Malfoy. The house was split; people who went along with Malfoy’s bullying and those who hated the boy. You were proud to say you definitely did not get along with Draco.

Over the many years of mutual torment between the two of you, you had both improved on your ways you made the other’s life a living hell.

This week, you had decided to casually mention to Ron that in his sleep, Draco sucked his thumb. You had no idea if this was true, of course, but you knew Ron would tell everyone he knew. 

In retort, Draco had been stealing any of your school work you left out in the common room. He would return it a few days later with all your work erased. 

This was typical. It would have been unusual if you didn’t have the added stress Draco gave you.

The worst part was the classes you shared. You shared a fair amount of them, being in the same house and finding a lot of your courses to be the same. The both of you were fairly smart, proving to be good competition. 

Charms was your least favorite. You had an awful memory, and when you had to remember the physical movements with the vocal spell, you struggled miserably. Draco did fine in Charms, which made it even worse.

Today was particularly difficult, having to memorize at least ten spells, each with different movements and verbal aspects. You sulked out of the room, loosening your green tie in frustration.

“Finding Charms a little hard today?” Draco mocked, raising his voice so it mimicked that of a baby’s.

“Not as hard as that Transfiguration test was for you last week. How much like a tea pot did your poor little mouse look like? I seem to recall it still had its tail,” you retorted, feeling better already about Charms as you looked at Draco’s sour expression.

“So what? What good will a mouse teapot do me? At least I can cast a gouging charm without nearly killing half the class,” Draco shot back, taking an intimidating step closer to you.

The two of you stood off in the middle of the hallway. This often happened after Charms, for it was the last class of the day and neither of you had anything better to do than shout at each other.

You rolled your eyes at the boy and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t even come close to killing anyone, Draco. Your such a drama queen,” you teased him, enjoying the flush on his cheeks. 

“Oh shut up,” he managed to still sound fierce, even with the pink hint on his face.

“Gonna cry about it?” you teased further, hoping to rile him up more.

He squinted his eyes at you and gave you one last critical look. He lifted his lip in a sneer and stalked off, Goyle and Crabbe following after him.

That was how you and Draco interacted. You would tease him, press his buttons, and he would get incredibly angry. It either ended with his storming off, or him saying something hurtful enough that actually made you sink to his level. He didn’t do it very frequently, because usually it resulted in him having a bruised eye for a few weeks.

You were happy to stand up to Draco, because not many other people did it. He was often too favored by Snape to ever get too badly hurt by Harry, and everyone else was too scared of him. Snape didn’t often interfere with the interactions between you and Draco, and you assumed he simply did not care.

You left Charms for the day feeling significantly more confident than when you had entered. You failed miserably at the assignments, and that upset you, but your little victory over Draco made up for it. You walked with Pansy to the Black Lake, books clutched tight to your chest as shields against the cold air nipping your skin. Your scarf clung to your neck and did its best to defend your vulnerable lips.

“You really can’t go?” you asked again, adding a slight whine to your voice.

“I can’t,” Pansy replied regretfully, “I’ve got loads of work to do, and my mum’s been on me about it recently.”

Pansy had fallen behind in more than a few of her courses. You supposed you could blame yourself a little, but didn’t like to think that hard about it. You and Pansy had been fast and loose recently, attending almost any and every party you could find, and spending a little more money than usual on certain substances. You justified it, though, thinking you’d be spending just as much at Hogsmeade every weekend.

“It won’t be any fun without you, though,” you said, still hoping she would change her mind.

“You’ll have Daphne,” Pansy said teasingly, “give her enough firewhisky and she’s a hoot.”

You giggled with Pansy, thinking back to the last time Daphne got drunk at a party. She had climbed on almost every elevated surface to dance, and when she ran out of tables to stand on, she had tried walking on the heads of the nearest first years.  

“Can I help you on some of your work? Get it out of the way?” you offered, practically desperate at this point.

“Would you? That might actually work,” Pansy exclaimed, rushing to the nearest tree to sit against with her school things.

You trailed after her, sitting next to her and pulling out some of your quills. You looked dutifully at Pansy’s Ancient Runes work, starting to write in your best attempt at your best friend’s handwriting. 

You knew there was an ulterior motive in wanting Pansy at the party, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. She was usually the only person who could effectively stop you from drunkenly interacting with Draco. She was the only one who could keep you two separate. As much as you hated Draco, something in your drunk subconscious always made you drawn to him. You needed her at that party.

Pansy stole a glance from her Potions work, looking at you. She smiled thankfully, tucking her short hair behind her ear and returning to her work.

The two of your worked silently for as long as you could, but the sun was against you. It crept away, hiding behind trees and clouds. The two of you began to collect Pansy’s scattered books in the dusk, some faint and lingering sunlight peaking through trees branches lighting the ground. You pulled your robes closer to you, feeling the air get colder as the sun was no longer there to warm you. You and Pansy struggled back to the castle, avoiding stray tree roots carefully. 

The both of you heard leaves crunching from a few feet away. You ignored it, figuring it was just some other students making their way up to the castle for dinner, too. The light was fading more and more, and you and Pansy were just about to clamber out of the heavily forested area when something hard knocked into your shoulder from behind. Draco had come from the left of you, walking past you and throwing his shoulder into yours. You stumbled forwards, but Pansy’s vigilant hand was quick to steady you before you could fall forwards.

“Merlin!” you said out of surprise, before you realized who it was.

His hair looked white in the moonlight that now illuminated the field. The bottom half of his face was shadowed by a tree, but you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was smirking. You rolled your eyes, feeling your feet firmly planted on the ground again, and began walking past Draco with Pansy’s arm looped in yours.

“Scare ya?” Draco snarled, taking a few long strides to walk in pace with you and Pansy.

“The only thing about you that scares me, Draco, is your nasty breath,” you said, pretending to sound sweet.

Draco scoffed, and you made a disgusted face, pretending to smell his breath from the few feet you were away from him.

“Honestly Draco,” Pansy said from beside you, struggling to hide her smile but going along with your joke and lifting her hand to cover her nose, “you’d think some of your daddy’s money would go towards toothpaste.”

You laughed earnestly, looking to Draco so you wouldn’t miss the offended face you knew he always made. He wasn’t doing it though, his brows weren’t furrowed and his lips weren’t curled. He looked off. His eyes narrowed but his lips were spread into some sort of crooked grin.

You narrowed your eyes back at him in suspicion, which he noticed. He quickly snapped out of whatever he was in, and his usual sneer was directed towards you and Pansy as he sulked off to the castle.

You and Pansy sat at the Slytherin table in your usual spots. Draco was a few people away from the both of you, as he usually was, but you both ignored him. It was easy to do, especially recently. Blaise had taken a peculiar interest in Pansy, and wherever Blaise went followed his friend Klein. 

Blaise was busy fawning over Pansy, watching her with a dazed look as she brushed her hair from her face. Klein kept his eyes locked on you, something you did not mind.

The boy was a year ahead of you, and he was the interest of just about every Slytherin girl. His green eyes were piercing, especially against the black hair that fell onto his forehead. He always kept his tie remarkably straight, and you often found yourself twirling it in your fingers to tease him. 

Tonight, he and Blaise walked with you and Pansy around the grounds before curfew. 

“Are you going to the party on Saturday?” Blaise asked Pansy, bringing his arm up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, and upon seeing your pitiful face she continued, “I’ll try, but no guarantees.”  

“Are you going?” Klein asked you, pulling a hand from his pocket to adjust his green tie.

“Of course,” you smirked, “I would never miss a party.”

Klein stared at you for a moment longer, and aware of his gaze, you bit your lip. You liked to mess with him, he was always so uptight and serious, it was fun to see him unwind just at your little actions.

You and Pansy said goodnight to the boys as you went to the girls dorms. 

The next day was odd, for as you came down the stairs to the common room, you saw Draco. It was not odd to see Draco in the common room, but it was odd for him to not immediately find you in a room and insult you. Instead, he merely locked his eyes with yours and stared at you. When you crinkled your face in confusion, he looked away, turning his attention back down to the book perched in his lap.

“Ready for breakfast?” Pansy asked, coming from behind you on the stairs.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, still looking at Draco as you followed her out of the common room.

In Potions, Draco didn’t torment you. In Transfiguration, he only stared at you, no sneer or grimace present. Most strangely, in Charms, he didn’t even bat an eye when your wand movement was off and your spell rebounded and hit Hannah Abbot. 

You apologized to Hannah profusely, even offering to walk her to the infirmary as her hand began to swell two times its normal size. She blushed, obviously embarrassed by the affliction, but insisted she could go by herself. She made sure you knew she forgave you, smiling politely as you followed her to the door and watched her go down the hallway. You shouted one last apology at her as she turned the corner, and she lifted her swelled hand in a friendly wave. 

Draco watched the entire interaction from his seat, his eyes following you as you held Hannah’s large hand in yours to look at the damage you caused. He looked at the guilty expression on your face, the red tint in your cheeks. He felt two things bubbling in his stomach: adoration and rage. He felt adoration, as he had been feeling for you for a while, and felt rage because he felt this way.

He swallowed hard as your eyes met his. In your flustered and guilty state, you shot him an annoyed look. He widened his eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring, and plunged his face downward to look back into his Charms textbook.

Draco had been weird lately, you noticed. For it was the third day, Friday by now, of no loud arguments in the hall, no insults in the common room, and not even a stray dinner roll being launched at your head during dinner (yes, he did that often). You and Pansy, however, were too busy doing her late work to do anything about Draco. She really was behind, and it was hard for you to do her late work as you had new assignments to do yourself. Pansy found a similar difficulty, leading you both to spend your Friday night poured over textbooks in the common room.

“Hard at work, girls?” you and Pansy looked up to see Blaise and Klein.

They fell into the couch across form you where you sat at a wooden desk against the wall. You had pulled two large armchairs to the table, the leather giving you some sort of relief as you bent over the work. Klein’s long arms stretch the length of the two person couch, and his stalky fingers tapped against it. Blaise leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Pansy. Klein eyed you hungrily, obviously enjoying the sight of your tie undone and your skirt riding up as you sat with your legs tucked beneath you.

Normally, you and Pansy would have engaged the boys, entertained yourselves with their mindless presence, but you had real things to do. Blaise and Klein may have been handsome, but they definitely weren’t the company you wanted right now.

“Hello Blaise,” Pansy mumbled tiredly, not looking up from the Transfiguration essay she was about to finish, “how’re you?”

“I’m alright,” he said airily, leaning back into the couch and taking Pansy’s simple question as an invitation to stay and talk.

You fought the urge to groan, not looking up form the Arithmancy problems you scrawled over and over. 

“How about we sneak to the kitchens tonight?” Klein suggested, and you heard the smirk in his voice without having to look at him.

“We’re busy,” you said curtly, clenching your jaw as you came across a difficult set of numbers.

Pansy looked up at you from her paper, flashing you a warning look. You rolled your eyes, giving her an exasperated look. She raised her eyebrows, her face becoming stern. You sighed, releasing the tight grip on your quill.

“I’m sorry boys,” you forced your sweetest voice, “we’ve got loads of homework to do before the party tomorrow. Another time?”

Blaise looked disappointed, but accepting. Klein stood to his full height, and your eyes followed him as he grew. He looked down at you with a playful smirk, licking his lips.

“Of course. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and Pansy waved kindly to Blaise. You decided then that you were no longer interested in Klein. He had been fun when he got flustered just from a glance, but now he was becoming like every other teenage boy. His smirks made you want to gag, and his lingering looks were creepy. You figured you’d tell him tomorrow night, if you still cared that much by then. 

You and Pansy continued to work until Pansy slouched back in her chair and groaned loudly.

“I can’t get it done tonight. I’ll have to work on it tomorrow,” she pouted, but looked resolute.

You didn’t bother to attempt another guilt trip, or convince her otherwise. Pansy’s mind was made up. You had to go to this party alone. Pansy wouldn’t let you stay in the dorm all night with her, either, so it’s not like you even had a choice. At least Klein wouldn’t bother you. He seemed to only have the guts to come up to you if Blaise did too, and he wouldn’t come up to you if you weren’t with Pansy. Now all you had to do was make sure not to get roped into an argument with Draco. You had to be the bigger person for one night and make sure you wouldn’t do anything you’d regret in the morning.

Pansy was right, she couldn’t get all her work done that night. She sat on her bed with books sprawled around her. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the clothe hugging your body. You looked good, you felt good.

“You’re going to be fine,” Pansy reassured you for the tenth time as you sat at the end of her bed, “you can go to parties without me.”

“Okay, but if I come back here tonight having lost a shoe or something, it’s your fault,” you joked, smiling as Pansy laughed.

You, Daphne, and Millicent stayed in your dorm for a little while longer. You moved some clothes around in your trunk, lifting a hidden compartment at the bottom. You retrieved two bottles of firewhisky, handing them to Daphne and Millicent. You closed your trunk, meeting the impressed expressions of the girls. Usually Fred and George Weasley provided alcohol for the school, known for their impressive parties. You and Pansy, however, had your own supply you liked to keep for rainy days. While this wasn’t a rainy day, you couldn’t help the need for a little liquid courage as you had to go to your first party without your best friend. You took the bottle from Millicent and Pansy giggled as she looked up from her Ancient Rune dictionary to watch you take a large swig of the drink.

You felt it burn as it traveled down your throat, and it spread through your body like a warm blanket. You handed the bottle back to Millicent, and the three of you finished off an entire bottle. You didn’t want to go downstairs until you heard the music become loud enough, and by the time you were putting the empty bottle back in your trunk, the party roared downstairs. 

The three of you said goodbye to Pansy and went to the common room. The music became louder and louder as you got closer to the party. Soon, Daphne was dragging you and Millicent to a large table with assorted drinks. You watched a boy on the other side of the table pouring himself a heavy amount of a clear liquid. He met your eyes and handed you the bottle. You looked at the label but all that was there was a cartoon drawing of a witch with bubbles spouting from her mouth. You raised your eyebrow at the boy, and he smiled, taking a sip of his drink. You filled your own cup with the liquid, drinking it quickly. It burned more than the firewhisky did, but it was still enjoyable.

You felt your head feel lighter as Daphne clasped onto your hand to pull you out to the dance floor. You danced with her, and as you moved your cup slid from your hand. You and Daphne looked at it for a moment, the cup spilled over as a wet spot formed on the carpet. You looked back up at each other and fell into a fit of giggles. 

You continued to dance, looking around the crowd with ease. You felt like someone was staring at you, but you couldn’t find anyone in particular. The music and alcohol coursed through your veins. You felt lighter than you had in months, no worrying thoughts of homework or boys, or even Draco Malfoy.

The second you thought about how you weren’t thinking about Malfoy, you were immediately thinking about him. Part of you missed the hateful sparks between you, the natural narrow of your eyes at the sight of him. 

Your body tensed involuntarily, and your drunk subconscious was already hoping to see his blond hair in the crowd. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking of what to say so Draco’s stern face would devolve into a furious expression. 

You slowed next to Daphne, a wicked look overtaking your dazed face.

“What is it?” Daphne shouted into your ear, pulling you closer by your arm.

“I’ve got to go find someone,” you shouted back, “I’ll be back in a second.”

You were moving through the crowd before Daphne could reach out and stop you. A small voice in the back of your head sounded a bit like Pansy, her familiars warnings from the last party you were at with Draco. She had found you as you were just about to pour your drink down his front, and her soothing words floated into your drunken mind like good-natured clouds.

“He’s not worth it, honestly. All the stress he causes you is going to give you wrinkles, you don’t want wrinkles. Leave him be,” Pansy was right then and she would have been right again. Alas, Pansy was not here and her words did not echo loud enough in your head as you finally found the blond.

He was draped across a leather couch. His legs dangled off the arm as his head was perched on a pile of blankets. At the floor, Crabbe and Goyle hunched over, goblets clutched loosely in their seemingly unconscious hands. Draco’s eyes were closed, his long eyelashes delicately hovering over his pink flushed cheeks. His hair was pushed off his forehead, falling in handsome tufts onto the blankets under him. You stood there for a moment, interchanging which leg to rest your weight on.

“Are you going to say something,” Draco suddenly drawled, barely loud enough to be heard over the music, “or are you content to sit in silence for once?”

You scoffed, taking a breath that made your chest rise. You walked towards him, curling your warm fingers around his legs and flinging them off the arm of the couch. His body twisted and his eyes opened at the touch. You sat next to him, at least a foot between the both of you.

“What do you want?” he asked, leaning over to take Crabbe and Goyle’s full goblets from them. He handed you Goyle’s as he drank from Crabbe’s.

“Just wanted to see if you had done anything embarrassing that I could tell the whole school about tomorrow,” you lied, taking a considerable sip from the goblet.

Draco scoffs next to you, “Not yet, darling.”

You gave Draco a glance. He seemed distressed about something. The way he cradled the goblet in his hands and drank with an urgency was the way someone drinks when their upset.

“What’s got your panties all tied up, Draco?” you asked teasingly, leaning in his direction slightly.

Draco looked at your lidded eyes, the natural smirk on your pretty lips, the outfit you wore that you looked absolutely amazing in; he couldn’t feel any rage as he looked at you that night.

“You,” he said softly, staying stiffly straight but turning his head to face you.

You felt your cheeks warm, looking at him with a curious smirk.

“Really?” you indulged, wondering what else Draco may drunkenly confess. His words weren’t slurring like yours, but the faint pink flush on his cheeks and his unseemly kindness told you he was not sober.

He nodded silently, looking down at the goblet in his lap.

“Draco,” you said, turning to rest your back against the arm of the couch as your legs spread on the cushions. Your feet were inches from touching Draco’s thighs, and he tensed as he looked at the lack of space, “You’ve been acting odd with me recently.”

Draco, if possible, tensed even more at your statement. He was not nearly as drunk as you thought he was, or as you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered, biting his bottom lip. This was the first time you had ever seen Draco Malfoy seem flustered. 

“Draco?” you slurred, not speaking again until he turned his face to yours.

You moved forward, bending your legs so you still didn’t touch him, but so your face was close to his.

“Do you fancy me?” you drawled, intrigued. 

Draco’s previously tense and stiff stature seemed to relax, as if a secret was released that he had been bottling up. He brought his goblet to his lips slowly, and you did the same, the both of you finishing off what Crabbe and Goyle had been drinking. 

“If I’m going to be honest-” Draco had turned his head to you and began speaking, but you weren’t listening. His lips looked so soft and his eyes looked so kind, you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him.

He was surprised at first, unmoving against your lips. You smiled, still against him, and it seemed to make him realize what was happening. Within seconds, one of his hands was on your waist as the other was on your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, tasting a cinnamon flavored alcohol on his tongue as he slid it into your mouth. Your brought your hands to his neck, unable to stop yourself from playing with his hair. You ran your fingernails across his scalp and down to the nape of his neck, smiling again as he moaned into your lips.

You pulled away when it felt like your lungs needed air, which they did, and kept your eyes closed. Your shoulder fell into the side of the couch, your forehead resting on Draco’s shoulder. 

You felt yourself drifting off into a drunken sleep, your body feeling heavy as it slumped into Draco’s.

“I really like you, Y/n. I really do,” Draco confessed from beside you, stroking your hair, “I think you’re the most clever person I’ve ever met.”

You felt your heart swoon at his confession, wondering if he said it because he thought you were already asleep, or if the alcohol was affecting him as much as you. You shifted, bringing your legs to fall into his lap, to which Draco wrapped his slender fingers around your thigh and pulled your closer to his body.

“I hope you’re not too drunk to remember this,” he mumbled, his own eyes fluttering shut as the both of you fell asleep. 

[writing-red]

from the dining table

draco malfoy x reader (mentions of harry potter x reader)

summary: You and Draco broke up and he is trying desperately to get in touch with you even though he knows exactly why you aren’t picking up the phone (song fic based on harry styles’ from the dining table)

request: @runninglownad​ hii! can i request a draco imagine based on from the dining table by harry? thanks sooo much <3

warnings: this is super angsty, breakup, toxic relationship, sad anger and drinking

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! and photo credit to @fixedunit​

word count: 2.1k

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

It was seven when Draco finally decided to stop fighting the insomnia. Thoughts of you claiming his mind and making him entirely unable to find sleep. The white hotel sheets were curled around him, pillows on the floor, broken glass shattered around him like an unholy halo, and the room in total disarray. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do with himself, unsure of what to do with himself now that he had lost you. He so desperately wished that he could squeeze his eyes shut only to open them and find you laying there next to him, wishing desperately to see that incredible beaming smile of yours, the one that would turn your cheeks rosy red.

He rose from the bed and navigated around the mess on the floor to get to the bar in the room. With a heavy hand he poured himself a scotch, as he continued to think of you; the feeling of your lips on his, the lines of witty banter you always seemed to whip out of nowhere, and the idea that he may never hear the rasp of your voice in the morning again.

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I’ve never felt less cool

He abandoned the glass dragged the bottle back to the bed, putting on the television as a distraction. He couldn’t seem to find a program that didn’t make him think of you, he couldn’t get the sound of your sweet and joyous laugh echoing through whatever space you held.

Tears streamed down his face as he downed the scotch, he felt like an absolute child. Crying over a girl, drinking, and sleeping. The pattern was pathetic and the last thing Draco Malfoy was, was pathetic. Yet it seems you could reduce him down to a blubbering child and all he would think of is how terribly he missed you, and how badly he wanted to smell your deep ambrosial perfume. By the time he woke up again the digital clock next to the bed was flashing 12:13 as if it was mocking him, goading him to wake up and get over himself. 

We haven’t spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated 

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Your voicemail, the one you had recorded with him, your voice was happy, and it sounded as if you would never be sad again.

“You’ve got Y/n” joyful, happy, in love. “I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks.”

“Y/n, darling?” he muttered. “Look I know that I fucked up, and that you don’t want to talk but can we please just go get coffee, I want to see you, and I don’t want to end things on that note. Please, I know that we aren’t getting back together, I just, Y/n I need to see you.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco was mocked by the shrill beep that followed the sound of your voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry about all the voicemail’s and all of the text messages, if you don’t want to see me please just tell me so. Look I just, Y/n, I am miserable and I really just want to apologize for everything face to face. Please don’t just ignore me.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco listened solemnly as the voicemail played wishing this wasn’t the only way he could hear your voice.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to talk to me, just, tell me yourself don’t just ignore me. Please,” he was desperate, to see you without tears streaming down your face, tears he had caused.

I saw your friend that you know from work

He said you feel just fine

I see you gave him my old t-shirt

More of what was once mine

Weeks past and Draco didn’t hear back from you. He knew that you were forcing him to move on and he didn’t want to accept it but he knew that he had no other choice. He was back to work, back to normal, although no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to get the thought of you out his head. He was drinking, more than usual, smoking more than usual, and he had destroyed his fair share of hotel rooms. It was time for him to start living his life again.

You had always loved coffee, going to coffee shops, trying out different drinks, people watching, you had made the whole ordeal a habit for Draco and now it was a way for him to hold onto you. He thought that if he was lucky enough he’d catch you at one of them.

Today he went before work, luckily he had skipped the morning coffee shop rush and there were just a few other people inside the shop.

“I’ll have a black drip coffee, and a croissant,” he said, handing the barista money.

“Here’s your change, and it’ll all come up at that bar over there,” she said gesturing to the end of the bar.

“Thanks,” Draco said kindly as he stepped over to where the barista had gestured to wait for his order.

“Malfoy,” he heard a familiar voice.

“Potter,” Draco said, surprised to see the man you had both gone to school with, and who you now worked with.

“Nice to see you, what have you been up to recently” Harry asked him.

“Just work,” Draco observed Harry, the man he had always been so jealous of, for a moment when his eyes caught something similar. “That’s a bit of a posh shirt for you isn’t it?”

“Ah- it was in Y/n’s flat, I mean she gave it to me because it was in her flat and it’s my size and all that.”

“Got it. I think that’s mine,” he said, his eyes still on the shirt as the barista placed his coffee and pastry on the bar in front of them. “Tell Y/n I say hi?”

“Sure thing mate, she’s uh doing pretty alright,” Harry offered and Draco nodded, swiftly exiting the coffee shop refusing the urge to start crying over you again.

I see it’s written, it’s all over his face

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Potter. You had to choose Potter of all the men you knew to sleep with. It was as if you were trying to hurt him, trying to drive the knife further into his heart. That night Draco proceeded to call you all of thirteen times, four of the calls sober, and the other nine varying levels of drunk until he finally blacked out.

All he wanted was to hold you one more time, to hear you talk over a movie, shout out the lyrics to some old Bon Jovi song, watch you dance atop your kitchen table, you were always the perfect antagonist to silence and now it seemed that silence was all he could hear. People would speak to him and he couldn’t hear it, he would try and remember the sound of you, your singing, your voice, your laugh, but his memories of you were only pictures.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too

But you, you never do

The ringer on his phone was always on, and when it buzzed he picked it up as quickly as a man could. Although, he was routinely disappointed to find that it was either Blaise, his boss, his mum, or a hotel calling to let him know of the damages done and the charges he would incur. But it didn’t matter, none of those calls mattered because they weren't you.

He just wanted you back, and all he could do was call and call, while picturing you lying in Harry Potter’s arms. You had chosen to be with Potter, and you had chosen to leave Draco, and Draco just couldn’t cope with your choices.

Woke up the girl who looked just like you

I almost said your name

He didn’t know this ones name, and he didn’t know the last one’s name. These girls that circled through his bed, each of them vaguely resembling you in one way or another. Today he awoke to seeing your nose, and your hair on someone else. Sleeping with these women upset him more than it comforted him, but it was at least something to do with himself.

“Y/-” he stopped himself. “Hey, I’ve got to go to work.” He said, shaking the girl awake.

“Can’t I just leave after you?” She groaned, her eyes still closed.

“No, get up,” Draco said as he got out of bed and pulled the duvet off of her. “Now,”

“Fine, I’m going,” she said, taking her time to draw herself up. “And I promise I won’t be back.”

And there she went, another person lost whether he wanted her or not. All he knew how to do was drive people away. He didn’t want to get over you, ever since your trip to New York you had been the love of his life. But now he resolved to living his life as a ghost, constantly in terrible silence without you.

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Taglist -  @sarcasticallywitty15​​ @fred-love-bot​​

[katherinemallory]

#10 The roulette of feelings

Hell is empty and all the previous chapters are here: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9

After a few days in London we caught our flight to Monte Carlo. I’m not sure how long we stayed there. This mission felt like a long holiday since the very beginning.

Still on board we agreed that Bond would be the one to play poker and I would pose as his wife, or, as he has put it, “a crown jewel”. Usually I don't like being treated as such, since my experience in behaving like a damsel is close to a bare minimum, but this time I really enjoyed it. Bond was clearly pleased with his leading role in this show, and - while sitting at the poker table - he started to take chances more eagerly. He boasted about his poker skills all the time and I kept working from the shadows, observing him and our rivals, and making sure that we don’t expose ourselves too much. A win-win situation.

We were quite busy spending time at the casino, discussing the tactics, or using all the possible attractions offered by the city of Monte Carlo. The only contact I had with the outside world during the first week were my reports to MI6 which went directly to M, delivered to him by Eve Moneypenny.

One day, while Bond was on the meeting with our liaison (it's amazing the SIS has got its people... everywhere), my phone rang. I picked it up and sat on my bed, crossing my legs.

"Hi Eve. It’s nice to hear you. Did you... find out anything?"

"Not yet, Kath, but I'm working on it," she reassured me. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. You haven't been in touch for *days*. I’ve only noticed your daily reports."

"I'm more than fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for not being in touch... I have to admit I've been kinda busy, but... I won’t complain. Finally I do all those things I needed to recharge my batteries."

“I can’t believe what I hear! Does it mean I should become a double-0 if I want to feel more relaxed?” she teased me.

“You definitely should try it,” I replied, smiling. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s absolutely true. I enjoy the high-life more than I expected... All those fancy parties, drinks, wealthy men, late-night strolls around the streets of Monte Carlo... You get used to it pretty quickly," I replied in delight. "Sometimes I forget that I am here for the purpose of work.”

“It’s great to hear that, Kath. You deserve it, especially after what happened in Geneva,” said Eve and hesitated. “And... And w-w-what about Bond...? I guess it’s him who takes you on these late-night strolls?” 

I laid on the bed, putting one pillow under my head. I looked straight at the white ceiling.

“Well... We spend each night at the casino, pretending to be a husband and a wife who just want to enjoy themselves... In the mornings Bond tries to teach me how to play poker. I fail miserably every time!” I chuckled. “We share a suite. I had some concerns before, but so far he behaves."

Eve's voice went up really high.

"You mean he did give up on you?”

I tilted my head to the right, placing my cheek on one of the pillows and pressing the phone to my ear.

"He didn’t. We flirt regularly," I replied, as I scratched my forehead with my left hand. “But he’s more patient now, I reckon. And more self-confident. He knows I can’t pay much attention to the other men at the casino, cause it would blow our cover immediately. He knows I wouldn’t do that... This is what makes him... erm... powerful. And he probably thinks I will fall for him eventually,” I added, rolling my eyes. “And I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Uh, you don’t really *mean* it, do you?” she asked, concerned. “There’s no pressure... This mission won’t last forever.”

“Honestly, Eve? Sometimes I feel like it will last forever... And Bond’s presence gets more addictive every day,” I said, lying on my back again. “I used to make fun of it, but I’m afraid I can’t resist Bond much longer. I mean... Not because he’s irresistible, but because... I really start to feel something for him.”

I took a deep breath and then continued:

“It all depends on what you find. If Mallo... erm, if the man I asked you to spy on... is married, then I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have an affair with Bond...”

“Fair enough,” commented Eve. “At least you know what Bond wants from you. Suppose that’s something. But didn’t you admit the other day that you loved Ma...”

“It’s more complicated than you think," I interrupted. "When you spend all days in Bond’s company, it changes your perspective entirely... You’d better hurry then. I am so confused recently...” Damn, I thought. There is no need to burden Eve with all of this... I should probably change the subject. “... but you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, how was your day at the SIS? Any news?”

“Business as usual. I can’t share much detail, but it seems like Amanda’s got reassigned as she had requested.”

“Good for her. Send my love.”

“I will. And I promise to get in touch as soon as I find out anything about... *him*.”

...

The upcoming days passed so fast that I didn’t think about anything apart from what was going on in Monte Carlo. Intuitively both myself and Bond concentrated on the everyday tasks of the mission, but it turned out most of the time we just had fun, which meant our Walther and Beretta were absolutely useless.

Since the only moments I had only to myself were those just before going to bed in the evenings, I often spent them on analyzing my own feelings and, as a result, I developed a certain kind of insomnia. Or, I should rather call it “a difficulty with falling asleep”.

My thoughts were centred on Mallory. I miss him. I miss him dearly, but only when I have time to think about what he's doing in his old-fashioned office in London. When Bond is around, it’s only him who matters to me. Why is that? What the hell has happened to me? I don't know, but it's disturbing. And I get tired every time I try to sort things out in my mind... Can I really sleep with Bond if Mallory’s married? It’s not about giving up on a married man (which is an obvious decision from my point of view, as I would never break up *anyone’s* marriage), but about being honest to myself. Do I really love Mallory if I can fantasize about Bond? Or do I really feel something for Bond if my next move depends on Mallory’s marital status?

After a few evenings of such intense thinking I realized that no matter the arguments, such analysis is pointless. I could be thinking about this for a year and still didn’t come up with a right solution. I decided to wait and see how the case would resolve itself.

On the last day - it was one of those splendid days in June when you feel the most alive - we went to the casino for one more time, looking more dashing than ever. Little did we know, when we walked hand in hand into the casino - Bond wearing a black dinner jacket and me in an evening scarlet dress - that Bond would win the night’s poker game, gaining an enormous amount of money.

Late at night, around 3 A.M. I went straight to the poker table and brought Bond a dry martini (I've already had a few of them myself to relieve the boredom).

"Congratulations," I said, handing him a martini.

"Thank you," replied Bond and drank half of his glass.

I looked at him with aroused interest while he was drinking. I was never good at poker and, as much as I didn't want to, I had to admit the way he played that night impressed me.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, he observed the olives that seemed as if they were swimming inside the glass, and then gave me a quick glance.

"We pack and come back to London."

"Is that so? What about the winnings?" I asked in disbelief, expecting some kind of joke rather than a matter-of-fact response.

"I will have to transfer them to MI6. I have already contacted M, he should send me the instructions in the next few hours."

"You've already contacted M? Someone's in a hurry. Was your time here *that* bad?” I taunted him.

Bond smirked, but didn't say anything. I glanced around the room. The people started to leave the place.

"So, it means we came here broken and we leave broken, despite the win?" I asked, laughing.

"One could say that," Bond agreed. "But I can still afford a dinner and a drink. Would you join me tonight for a humble celebration?"

"With pleasure. Let's enjoy our last hours in this marvellous place,” I said, taking him by the arm.

After the dinner in one of the restaurants at the casino, we went for our last walk around the streets of Monte Carlo. Both me and Bond became unexpectedly talkative, probably because of too many drinks we had to celebrate the happy ending of the mission.

It could have been around 5 A.M when the walk started to feel too exhausting, and we went back to our shared suite.

"Would you like another?" asked Bond, pointing to the bottle of bourbon at the table, just after we locked the door to the suite.

"Yes," I replied. "The last one for tonight."

I have no idea why I agreed to this, cause I've never been drinking much or mixing alcohols in the past. After Bond handed me my glass, I let my hair down and rushed to the balcony. I need to see this amazing city just one more time before I go to sleep, I thought. I observed the skyline, waiting for Bond to join me.

"To the king and queen of Monaco," said Bond and we clinked glasses, standing next to each other.

I smiled at him and drank the whole glass with my eyes closed, but I still could tell he was staring at me.

"You know, Katherine, it's been one of my favourite missions so far."

"Really?”

"Yes... It’s the simplicity of it,” he took off his dinner jacket, thrown it on the nearest chair, and then continued. “The task I'm really good at... the fairy-tale location, no rush... and the right woman. You," he said in his deep, smooth voice and put his glass on the floor.

Then he put one of his hands on the railing and turned to me, but didn’t say a word, as if he intended to find out how close to me I would allow him to move.

“It’s an honour to hear something like that from such an experienced double-0,” I said timidly, still holding the empty glass in my hands.

Bond gazed at me for a few seconds.

"It's true, I've been a double-0 for quite a while," he said and turned his head to look at the skyline of Monte Carlo, "but rarely did I feel this close with another agent. It's strange. I’ve always tried to avoid being emotionally attached to anyone. Cause of the job's nature and all that stuff."

This time it was me who stayed quiet. I just kept listening to him, realizing how much I *love* his voice and how could I listen to him talking *forever*. It occurred to me how beautiful his magnetic blue eyes were, especially in the middle of the night. One could say the same about Bond's face which now seemed to me like the face of the most handsome man on the planet. It should be illegal to be *that* handsome, I thought.

Bond turned his head to me.

"Then I've met you... and it seems I forget about all of those rules in the blink of an eye... it seems I don't control myself anymore."

I don't know how it happened, but in the next moment I found myself in Bond's arms. I felt his embrace, so tight, as if he wanted to protect me from all of the threats of this world. The glass dropped out of my hands and probably broke up, but we didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of our pumping hearts. I placed my hands on Bond’s chest, and we began to kiss, not being able to control the lust that started to fulfil our bodies. I quickly moved my hands to his neck and then the back of his head. I caressed his hair, which felt like the most pleasant material I have ever touched.

"You're the woman of my dreams," whispered Bond, when he started to kiss my neck. In response, I tilted my head back, but continued to touch his hair.

Out of the blue Bond picked me up and headed towards the bedroom. He was in a hurry, wanting to put me on his bed as soon as possible. He took off his shirt and laid down on me, holding my waist and passionately kissing my neck.

"Oh, James," I moaned, as the touch of his lips and hands started to turn me on. “Keep going... umm... And use that nice, deep voice of yours.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering his voice and biting my ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes...”

Oh my, I am in heaven. If he doesn't stop, I'll melt, I thought. I let Bond kiss me a few more times, but then moved to the other side of the bed to undress. Bond watched me hungrily as I took off my dress and stockings. And there I was, lying on his bed and wearing only my sexy black lingerie. I thought that he would eat me if he could.

I encouraged Bond with a sensual gesture, touching myself where I wanted to be touched the most. He couldn’t stand watching me for long, and came closer to kiss me again. He slowly moved from my belly and breasts to my neck.

“I've been waiting for this moment since the day we've met," he murmured, while kissing my collarbone.

I closed my eyes to double the thrill and make the experience more intense. My hands moved to his back and held him tighter.

"You drive me crazy," Bond whispered into my ear.

A fast thought crossed my mind. It's true what they say in the Service... nobody does it better... he's definitely a great lay... to hell with “the revenge plot”, go for it, Kath. I was just about to take off my bra, when I heard something was vibrating. I got a text. Great timing. I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat on the bed, bending down to the bedside cabinet.

"Oh, Katherine, just ignore it," said Bond who still caressed my waist with his right hand.

"Look who’s talking," I replied. "The most professional man in the Service... There’s no need to describe this to you..."

I looked at the screen and in that exact moment my adventurous mood was gone. I felt as if my heart stopped for a short while.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I have some evidence. He's not married anymore. Love, Eve

I quickly locked the screen to prevent Bond from seeing the message, as I felt his touch on my back. He hugged me from behind, kissing my left shoulder.

"Shall we continue?" he asked in his naughty manner.

I froze in my tracks. What about M? How can I fight for him if I sleep with another man right now? I promised myself to fight for Mallory and I have to be consistent. This was fun, but... I love Mallory, right? It's high time to stop playing games... and to finally forget about Bond. Perhaps it's a good sign I got this message before we did antyhing reckless.

I stood up with my back to Bond, still holding the phone in my hands.

"I'm sorry James... but I can't do this,” I declared as seriously as I could.

"But why?" he asked calmly, but his voice was full of disappointment and sadness. "Was it something I did?"

Oh, dear James, I thought. If you only knew how perfectly you did everything...

"No," I replied and turned to him. My voice was shaking a bit. "It was... it was a wonderful night, but I've never slept with a co-worker before... and... I've just realized it would be wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this," I blurted out and felt a tear doing down my cheek.

Bond seemed not to believe me.

"You've *just* realized it? *Just* after you've got that message," he said, pointing to my phone. "I don't know what this is about, but... we've had such a great time here, why not celebrate it tonight? It doesn’t matter at all that we work together."

I turned my head in embarrassment, trying not to look at him. He stood up and came closer to me.

"I know that you like me," Bond said and placed his hands on my arms. "You can't simply deny our chemistry. You've seen what kind of magic it can cause... you don't have to ruin it."

I took his hands off me and went to the other side of the bed to grab my clothes.

"I'm really sorry, James. It's over."

"It's over before it even started... Strange, isn’t it?"

I ignored him, as I headed toward to the door leading to my part of the suite. I must have looked miserable in my sexy black lingerie, holding my evening dress, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I don't want to hurt you *again*," I said quietly with my hand on the doorknob.

Bond shook his head.

"You will hurt me if you leave,” he said calmly, but I knew he was full of anger. His eyes told me he was suspicious of everything I’ve said.

As I knew he had the very right to be suspicious, I turned my back on him, trying to get inside my part of the suite. My hands started to shake, making it impossible to quickly open the door.

“You still think about *him*, don’t you Kath...?” Bond asked in a raised voice, with his hands on his hips. “Why do you keep deceiving yourself? He’s not cut out for it! He doesn’t see you this way... and even if something happened between us he wouldn’t care!”

But I would, James. I would, I thought, going inside my part of the suite through the door. I couldn’t bear to look at those cold blue eyes again.

I went up straight to the bathroom and locked the door. I could not think of anything else than just bursting into tears.

You're so stupid, Kath. Mallory thinks you're responsible, but you're just stupid, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. What was that for? Bond might be a womanizer, but no one deserves to be treated like that. No one. Does he use other women? He does. But it’s none of your business, Kath. You don't offer someone the pleasure and then deny it. You just don’t...

I spend a few minutes sitting on a bathroom’s floor and crying.

But looking on the bright side... at least I got my backup story. Everyone will see something’s happened between us, but no one will ask questions. And if there is a slightest chance M cares about me, he’ll get the message.

I can’t wait for this mission to be really over. By this time tomorrow I shall be in my apartment in London. Alone.

***

To be continued.

[solacefruit]

Hello, I re-read your fic "one of a king, no category" again recently and first of all I absolutely love it and I always tear up no less then 3 times every time I read it. I was curious, if you remember, how you decided on the 9 cats you chose for the 9 lives ceremony, and also were there any other characters you considered using but who didn't end up making the cut?

Hello there! Thank you so much for writing in with such a sweet compliment, it really warms my heart to know that story has hit such a lovely chord with so many people. I think out of all the stories I’ve written for Warriors so far, one of a kind, no category is the one I’m proudest of and the one I’d like to be remembered for the most. 

And thank you for this question, it’s a very good one! I have a feeling it’ll get very long, though, so I’ll put it under the cut. 

I didn’t have to think much at all to know which cats I wanted to write about for this story, because I’ve been thinking about these nine in various ways since I first read the series. In many ways, one of a kind, no category is a love letter to characters I felt were treated cruelly and unfairly in canon and I wanted to give them a brief moment to be something other than what they were--whether that was to complicate or reinterpret the narrative they’re given in canon, or to highlight the qualities they have that often get overlooked or underappreciated by the writers (and sometimes other fans). 

So there’s cats like Silverstream and Rosetail, who are barely there and then killed off as a plot point--to cause drama for Greystripe or show the brutality of clan life, respectively. Then there’s cats like Lizardstripe, Nightcloud, and Foxheart who are basically written as shallow, “bitchy” antagonists--and as a result are often seen that way by the fandom--or cats like Ferncloud, who are seen as “boring” or “useless” because of their time in the nursery and often resented for that by fans. 

And I don’t necessarily blame fans for these readings of the characters, because the canon is so badly written. I think there’s always a tendency for male characters to be given leniency and complicatedness that is often withheld for female characters, but in Warriors, that cultural reading issue is compounded by the fact the writers themselves don’t ever really do female characters justice. Canon Ferncloud is largely there to pop out kittens and then died in battle “as a result of fan complaints” because Erin Hunter’s misguided understanding of the criticism they were receiving--i.e., interpreting “all she does is have kittens” to mean “we want her to fight [and die]” instead of “please give her character depth--no, not death, no, Erin, don’t--”

I wanted to take these characters and humanise (for lack of a better word) their canonical representations in a way that makes you actually care about who they are/were and the life they lived. Silverstream’s death is a tragedy. Rosetail’s life is a triumph. I wanted these experiences to be embodied in a story in a way that could give readers feelings and change how people thought of these (canonically very badly written) characters, not because I think Erin Hunter is a secret genius and deserves it (they don’t, I hate them), but because the characters themselves deserve more recognition and care than they often receive. 

Anyway, I’m sorry, I’ve gone way off track! To actually answer your questions: 

1. Leopardstar: one of the few female leaders--whose story is then basically about what a bigot she is and how she betrayed her whole clan (more or less) for a man because she was secretly in love with Tigerstar. I hate that they made a female leader (one of very few!) just to be like “eh she’s a lackey to an evil man she’s in love with who doesn’t care about her.” 

2. Rosetail: as mentioned before, she is barely in canon at all (in the main series; she returns in Bluestar’s Prophecy as kind of Bluefur’s best friend?). She’s actually the first clan cat to die after Firepaw joins Thunderclan, but it mostly gets swept aside and people are sad for like a minute and then the shock value wears off and she’s forgotten. 

3. Nightcloud: she’s kind of the contentious female character of the main series, because she’s either too clingy or too mean or a bad mother etc., and I’ve seen many people sympathise with Crowfeather over her--even though her side of things genuinely sucks. I wanted to give her space to be a kind of unlikeable person who still deserved better than she got. I think she deserves the same compassion people are willing to the extend to the man who mistreats her. 

4. Brightheart: one of the most famous disabled characters of canon--but she never really gets a decent resolution. Her ending is “happy” but I feel that she’s not really given closure for much of what happened to her, and in many ways the story around her is still very ableist. I feel like there’s a lot of extremely challenging internal growth that she would have had to do that never gets noticed in canon, so I wanted to give her a moment of sharing a fraction of the strength and wisdom she would have taught herself. 

5. Silverstream: as mentioned before, she’s so young and it feels to me like she exists--and dies--for the purposes of man-pain and I hate that. She gets so little personality in canon and then dies in childbirth, and I wanted to first give her a self that is so wonderful and real that it genuinely is devastating that she dies. It’s not a shrug, or a “poor Greystripe”: it’s a heartbreak to see someone so vivacious and excellent and hopeful get their life cut short. I want her story to be centred on who she is, not who she fell in love with and how he feels. 

6. Foxheart: she’s basically a mean, snotty villain in Yellowfang’s Secret (as is Lizardstripe) and an enemy of Yellowfang in a way that to me reeks of internalised misogyny from Erin Hunter, if I’m real with you. I wanted to give another interpretation of the events--especially considering how unbelievable it is that Yellowfang “got away” with that whole secret kit thing. It doesn’t make sense, unless you consider that other cats are in on it. Literally all Foxheart had to say to ruin Yellowfang’s life was “that kitten’s not mine”--and she never said that. I think that gets overlooked a lot and I wanted to explore that detail. And I thought it fitting to reinterpret a character whose name is literally an insult in canon (”fox-heart”) as having so much integrity that she would rather go down in history as a villain than be a snitch and a traitor to a clan-mate.

7. Lizardstripe: similar to above, she’s written as a horrible, bitter lady who resents her own mate and kits and is bullied into fostering Brokenkit and is miserable about that. It’s literally said “[h]er bitterness and resentment towards Brokenstar is what led him down his path of hatred” which is classic “blame a woman for a man’s behaviour” and a very rich statement from Erin Hunter who in the same breath is like “some cats (i.e., Brokentail) are just born evil as a punishment from Starclan on their birth mothers for breaking their vows.” It is so vile how Erin Hunter’s writing revolves as much as possible around blaming and punishing women for everything, including and especially men’s development and behaviour. 

8. Ferncloud: sort of mentioned before, but Ferncloud over the years has gotten a lot of fan disapproval for being passive and frequently pregnant. I think a lot of those criticisms--when levelled at Erin Hunter’s lazy writing--are fair and just but sometimes I feel that, in pursuit of more “strong” female characters in media, some fans forget to appreciate the many ways femininity and female characters can be subversive and/or still good, even when they’re not traditional hero’s narratives. In the real world, domestic labour (i.e., women’s work) is significantly undervalued, and I feel that Ferncloud can be read as an amazing example of someone who works to the bone every day and is largely ignored and underappreciated because the work she does is expected and taken for granted. 

9. Greypool: I love her--or at least my version of her. She doesn’t get a lot of attention in canon, other than a mention of being the foster mother to Bluestar’s kits and the fact she loses her memory as she ages and is murdered by Tigerclaw. It felt fitting for her to be the final life, both as a great and renowned storyteller in her own right and a cat considered to be very wise and kind with her words and thoughts, since ultimately one of a kind, no category is about the way stories can be told to shape the world--i.e., Erin Hunter’s often sexist canon versus the compassionate and intelligent retellings this fandom creates. 

As for cats that weren’t included, I’m happy with the nine I chose and I love them, but there are a lot of other cats who’ve been poorly treated by canon that would deserve a better story too. Snowfur of Thunderclan leaps to mind, as does Feathertail, and Palebird of Windclan, and honestly even Bluestar and Mapleshade. I think to a certain extent it’s hard to really engage with any of these characters’ narratives without also acknowledging the impact of sexist tropes on that narrative--i.e., how much of canon is “the character” (an intentional construct) and how much of their characterisation/story is kind of a side-effect of uncritical sexism perpetuated in the writing of said character? And I don’t really know the answer, because that’s not really a line that can be drawn. But I like to think one of a kind, no category and similar stories help reimagine other versions of these characters as fuller, more real people and that thought makes me happy. 

[yandere-society]

Hello Lovely admins!!! Can I request Yandere Jungkook and Jin reacting to you having a secret sex Snapchat account? Or like one where you send nudes and stuff? Love y’all !!!

Broadcast

author/admin: kimseokmomjins🥀

a/n: Poor attempt at smut (heavy petting, degradation), possessive behavior, slut shaming

It was the day of the big Overwatch League match: Seoul Dynasty versus Vancouver Titans. Jungkook wanted to catch the first half of the game during his lunch break, so he set up the live stream on his work laptop and kicked back. While most of the stream chat was a constant influx of Korean, there was one message in English that kept popping up: “I’llBeYourBaby: Lonely and wanna talk to a cute egirl? Visit my stream😘✨ You won’t regret it 🍑” Jungkook scoffed at the plea for attention. The spiteful, cruel side of him felt the need to bully I’llBeYourBaby for whoring herself out to strangers. How desperate for money could someone be that they’ll sell their body for perverts on the internet? And what a lonely, miserable life a man must have lived to resort to paying an e-girl for a morsel of attention to be thrown their way. The very notion of internet prostitution, and sex work in general, was disgusting in Jungkook’s mind. But his conservative ways are exactly why he adored you.

You were the perfect girlfriend: responsible, considerate, loyal and sweet. You were committed to your job of tutoring English online, you were quick-witted, funny, and also enjoyed gaming just as much as he did.  In Jungkook’s eyes, you truly were the love of his life, and he was practically ready to drop down on one knee.

Out of pure spite, Jungkook clicked on the username, entering the live stream at the top of the profile. With a twisted sense of justice, Jungkook was ready to spew vitriol at the female streamer to further his agenda, but immediately, it felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over him. Jungkook expected the stream to be hosted by some busty, bimbo whose breasts spilled over her tank top while she played like shit in League. He expected some overly-flirtatious, inauthentic wannabe that was trying to make a quick buck from neckbeards. He expected anyone— everyone— except for you.

Unlike the risque, hypersexualized woman he had envisioned before, Jungkook saw that you were dressed somewhat modestly, wearing a simple white turtleneck, blush pink skirt and white knee-high socks. You weren’t flaunting your breasts or purposefully exuding sex appeal. Instead, you looked adorable as you fiddled with your purple galaxy Nintendo DS.

“Welcome, JustinSeagull! Thanks for joining my stream,” you greeted with a smile and wave. Jungkook found himself in a state of shock, unable to comprehend the predicament he’d just found you in. It certainly wasn’t a popular stream, but judging by the measly 16 viewers you were interacting with, Jungkook surmised that you were quite familiar with them.

knjkoya: baby, tell me why you’re so fine

jiiiiiimin: 😍😍😍😍

jiiiiiimin: step on me pls

Giggling, you addressed your viewers comments. “I would step on you, but Animal Crossing is so fuuuun,” you whined with a tiny, playful pout. “How was everyone’s day? Let me know below in the chat.”

HopeWrld: Thought about you all day 💚

CallMeJin: My day was fine, thanks for asking sweetheart. Are you enjoying animal crossing?

taetaebae: damn is it me or iss she acting mroe innocent than usual ??

You looked up from your DS to read the comments, giggling when you read the most recent ones. “Yes, I am enjoying myself, CallMeJin! Tom Nook is a huge jerk though, the interest rate on his loans are kind of bullshit,” you joked as you returned your attention to your device, uncrossing your legs slightly which gave your viewers a teasing glimpse of your underwear. Ones that Jungkook had gifted you for your 100 day anniversary.

As more comments rolled in, the filthier they became:

CallMeJin: Glad you’re having fun babygirl :)

knjkoya: i make 150k a year, i can pay off your loans any day if u just sit on my lap

D-Boy: im so fucking hard rn wtf

D-Boy: [COMMENT REMOVED BY MODERATOR]

Jungkook was in awe at the pure filth these degenerates were spilling. But most of all, he was upset at you— how could you demean yourself like this? How could you betray him? Jungkook pushed his sleeves up, ready to type a long-winded message defending your honor, a notification popped up on screen along with a gif of a cat pawing at the screen. Someone named HopeWrld had donated $100 to your stream.

“Oh! HopeWrld, thank you so much for the donation,” you chirped, “Since you helped me reach my goal, I’ll let you ask me one question, anything is fair game.” You winked at the camera, blowing a kissy face. Little by little, Jungkook’s perception of you was beginning to shatter, splintering into a thousand fragments. He thought back to all the times when you’d complain about receiving unsolicited dick pics, or reaffirm your idea that ‘men only think with their dicks.’ It was apparent Jungkook knew only of the side you wanted to show him, leaving him oblivious to the secrets you withheld from him— your very own boyfriend.

Despite the churning of his stomach, Jungkook remained firmly planted in his seat, unmoving, waiting to see how else you could disappoint him.

HopeWrld: Are you single?

Jungkook’s eyes burned holes into the computer monitor, anticipating your response. Since you were clearly lying to him, he assumed you’d do the same for your viewers. Perhaps you’d neglect to tell these scumbags that you had a boyfriend— one you’d been with for over two years, someone you shared a home with, no less. Jungkook’s tongue peeked out and wet his lips, the chapped skin craving any sort of moisture.

You sighed, folding the Nintendo DS in half and focusing your full attention at the camera. “Ah, interesting question.” Tucking your hands in your lap, you tilted your head slightly to the left, looking demure and shy. “I do have a boyfriend,” you admitted. Jungkook always found your mannerisms endearing, and even now, in the midst of his anger, he felt his heart beat erratically due to your telltale signs of nervousness: the twitch of your left eyebrow, the biting of your lip, the fiddling of your fingers.

“He doesn’t know I do this, though,” you quickly added. “It’s kind of my dirty little secret.”

D-Boy: Dirty little secret for a dirty little girl

taetaebae: i fuckin called it

taetaebae: @CallMeJin u still gonna act like a tryhard ?? lmao

knjkoya: i’ll give you $500 to break up with him, no kappa

Disregarding the comments, you continued to gush about Jungkook, although you didn’t explicitly mention his name. “But anyway, I’ve been with him for a few years now, and I love him so much. It would kill him if he ever found out about this.”

‘I love him so much’. Bullshit.

Jeon Jungkook knew everyone loved him, how could they not? Despite people likening him to James Dean or Adonis, Jungkook didn’t care much for his looks. He only cared about whether you found him attractive. The same could be said about any of his traits: his personality, his sense of humor, even the way he slept at night. The only love Jungkook cared about was yours. Your affection, your acceptance, your undivided attention.

Unlike him, though, you apparently craved the affections of other men— strangers from the internet who didn’t care about your generous soul and fragile heart. They only wanted to fuck you, discard you like trash until they found another shiny new toy.

Jungkook slammed his laptop shut, his mind clouded by fury, but still cognizant enough to formulate a plan. It was risky, but in the end it would ensure that you never consider straying from him again.

•·················•·················•

Your fingers deftly thumbed the buttons of the gaming device, controlling your Animal Crossing character as they collected seashells from the shore. Every now and then, you’d giggle, wink at the camera, read a comment or two, and then return to your game. It was easy money, and it also boosted your ego a bit. Jungkook, although being an attentive, caring boyfriend, whilst being a more than a generous lover, could be a bit suffocating at times. He dictated what you wore— more often than not, suggesting you wear couple outfits— carefully monitored your social media and even conducted background checks on all of your male family members.

Although it was twisted, you couldn’t help but feel validated at the small bits of attention you got through streaming. It was what kept you practically sane in your relationship with Jungkook, what ensured that you never snapped back at your boyfriend when he urged you to wear something less revealing, or when he scolded you for “flirting” with the older blind gentleman that lived in your apartment complex.

Humming contentedly, you delivered a package to a citizen named Purrl, only glancing up at your computer monitor to briefly acknowledge the chat, when you spotted Jungkook glaring at you from the doorway. Startling slightly, you hit Control + Tab and switched to Youtube, trying to look inconspicuous.

“H-Hi baby,” you greeted, smiled forced, yet still somewhat genuine. “You’re home early, I didn’t hear you arrive.” Jungkook clicked his tongue and pushed off the doorframe, stride confident and eyes set to kill. He responded vaguely, “Got out early.”

Jungkook approached you, his dominating presence settling over the back your white gaming chair. He feigned interest at your game at hand, “Well, what do we have here?” You glanced over your shoulder at your boyfriend, doing your best to keep your cool. “Ah, yeah, I’m playing Animal Crossing! Isn’t my character adorable?” You nudged the DS towards Jungkook who smiled politely— he knew that you knew that wasn’t what he was talking about, but Jungkook was certain that he could play the better liar.

He accepted the DS from your hands and inspected your character, before handing the electronic device back. “She looks just like you, Y/N. It’s cute.” You blushed, not because of his praise, but due to the embarrassment. Your livestream was still ongoing, meaning your viewers were seeing this entire awkward situation unfold, and you hoped to God that Jungkook didn’t notice the tiny green dot on your webcam. If he did, Jungkook would undeniably find a way to take away the only form of freedom you had to interact with the opposite sex.

“You know,” he mused, coiling a strand of hair around his index finger, “I also think it’s cute how you actually believe you can lie to me.” Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath hitched slightly as you tried to remain calm. You kept your concentration solely on Animal Crossing, trying to avoid your boyfriend’s scrutiny.  Jungkook leaned in closer until his face was level with yours. Peeking at him out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his focus was not on you, but rather on your computer monitor, right hand already poised on the mouse. The cursor dragged over to the leftmost tab and you sucked in a breath, an intense sense of impending doom coiling in your gut.

The screen changed to show a mirror image of yourself, alongside Jungkook, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. Your secret had been exposed— and you knew it was only a matter of time, as keeping secret from Jungkook was a difficult task— but you hadn’t imagined it to happen this way. To be exposed on stream, by none other than your boyfriend.

You expected his fury, his disappointment— any sort of reaction, really— instead, feeling the tantric slither of his hand as it crept up your sternum.

“If you want to attention so badly, all you had to do was ask, babe,” Jungkook murmured into the shell of your ear, his body gracefully sliding itself under your thighs and repositioning you onto his lap. Tantalizingly slow, Jungkook’s fingers worked their way up the expanse of your chest until they nestled themselves over your breasts, his hands palming the clothed surface.

Although he was gentle, there was an underlying roughness to his touch. His fingers pinched the flesh of your breasts until it hurt, but would release a second later, only to alleviate the discomfort with soothing massages. Jungkook’s mouth rhythmically suckled pink bruises into the crook of your neck, eliciting a soft whimper. He smirked, satisfied that he was able to rile you up so easily. He lazily dragged his tongue up the column of your throat until his mouth rested right under your ear, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva in its wake.

His left hand relinquished control of one breast and acquainted itself with your inner thigh, his thumb toying with the elastic with featherlight touches. “You’re such a stupid little slut,” Jungkook purred, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “But at least you’re my little slut.” During all your moments of intimacy, Jungkook had never once bestowed upon you such a degrading name, as his kinks were more aligned towards praise rather than humiliation. But you surmised that his spiteful words were simply misplaced frustration.

How long had it been? Hours? Minutes? Seconds? It was impossible to tell, as you found yourself lost in the sensual motions, completely forgetting that, although you were in private, your stream was still live. You were only pulled out of your lust-induced haze when you heard the chime of your donation notification, reminding you that you had a small audience of onlookers. “Jungkook, the- the stream… I need to end the broadcast,” you weakly protested, trying to wriggle out from his grasp. Your boyfriend kept you firmly molded to him, his growing need nestled between the folds of your skirt.

“Let them watch,” Jungkook stated, brazenly making eye contact with the camera. “Since you clearly don’t mind the attention, why don’t we give them a run for their money?”

Your eyes widened, finding Jungkook’s shamelessness slightly erotic, but nevertheless feeling absolutely mortified at your compromising position. Comments were rolling in steadily, causing your heart to clench in self-loathing.

taetaebae: wtf wtf wtf

taetaebae: this shit is fuckin wilfd lmfao 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

D-Boy: what a hoe

HopeWrld: what is even happening

D-Boy: at least shes hot tho

“Kookie, baby please,” you pleaded, grabbing onto the one arm that fondled your breast, feeling the sinew of his muscles ripple under your fingertips. “I’m guh-gonna get banned if you k-keep- keep doing this.” Jungkook ignored your weak-willed objections and continued to torment you by sliding his finger into your slick heat. A moan was coaxed from your throat, the shiver from his sudden entrance causing you to lean into further into Jungkook’s chest.

knjkoya: Lucky bastard

CallMeJin: After all the money I’ve sent you?? At the very least, you could have just pretended to be a good girl, I’llBeYourBaby. Unsubscribing. Pokimane is hotter anyway.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the visual in front of you: Jungkook’s right hand splayed across your chest, while his left hand sinful touches under the ruffles of your skirt— which was, thankfully, hidden low enough to not be captured on the stream— whilst his mouth worked in tandem, leaving your neck littered in splotches of pink, red and lilac. You looked like a mess, but felt completely invigorated.

But still, despite your body being pulled into euphoria, your mind was plagued with negative thoughts. These viewers, your followers, were one of the last few sources of entertainment left, and if the broadcast was reported then your IP would be banned permanently, which meant no more streaming, no more fun, no more freedom.

Pulling away from Jungkook’s lips, you attempted to stand your ground, craning your neck to face him. “Jungkook, please don’t do this while I’m live. Let me sign out and I’ll take care of you.” Your boyfriend’s eyes settled on your bite-swollen lips and the way your heavy-lidded eyes betrayed your protests to stop. He should get what he wants while respecting your autonomy, but the selfish, vile side within him screamed to punish, punish, punish.

Jungkook gently brought his lips to yours, giving you a tender, chaste kiss, lulling you into a false sense of security. You smiled shyly, a tinge of pink dusting your cheeks and Jungkook returned the gesture with one of his toothy grins. Ever so carefully, Jungkook raised his hips and pulled out something hard, firm, from his rear pocket— a thick bundle of crisp, $100 bills, totaling close to three grand.  

As soon as your guard had been let down, he shoved the stack into your mouth, effectively gagging you. His other hand clamped down on your wrists, preventing them from reaching the mouse or keyboard. “You want these loser scumbags to pay you while you act like their cute, sweet gamer girlfriend? How about cold, hard cash? Will that keep you satisfied, princess?”

Jungkook eyed the chatroom, his attention catching on a particular message that, if it could even be possible, made dick harden even more.

jiiiiiimin: you should just let us watch you fuck her

With a scoff and cocky grin, Jungkook tilted his head mockingly. “Like hell I will. Go get your dicks hard to someone who’s not taken.” And with that, Jungkook pushed off the chair, pinning you into the desk on your stomach, whilst his other hand palmed the flesh of your bottom, a telltale sign that a rather lengthy spanking would be coming your way. The sheer force of your readjustment onto the desk had sent the computer monitor and webcam tumbling off the desk, landing in a shattered mess on the floor, pieces of plexiglass and plastic littered everywhere.

You made a mental note: be sure to buy a new monitor after Jungkook’s punishment, and make sure the next one is shatter-proof.

[rosewhipped22]

Bad Dream Kisses          

(1709 words) Destiel, explicit language, first kiss

Sometimes Dean's lucky enough to realize he's having a nightmare and smart enough to find a way to make it better.

Set somewhere in s15 probably

Read it on Ao3

Strictly speaking, Dean has a lot of weird nightmares.  Far more than his fair share. And his life is constantly a bizarre real life nightmare so forgive him if he figures out a way to fucking tell the two of them apart.

For entirely too long when things get freakishly intense and he suspects he might be dreaming Dean's go to move involves hacking off a finger or two to wake himself up. It’s nothing important, just a pinky here or there, but obviously it’s a high-risk, high-reward scenario. If he ever assumes he’s in the midst of a liquor fueled bad dream and it turns out he’s wrong, well, fortunately it hasn’t happened yet.  And, sure, losing a pinky in real life would suck, but in dreamland it’s always worth it. Anything to stop the madness.

For a while that works just fine, but then Dean comes up with a solution that’s a million times better.

Cas turns up in a dream while everything is going to shit and Dean really wants to wake up like fucking yesterday but for some reason slicing into himself has lost its appeal after so many times. And Cas is there,  hovering close-by, making some observation that only Cas would notice and instead of reaching for his knife Dean reaches for that stupid trenchcoat, hauling Cas in close and planting one on him. 

He’s got enough memories of kissing that it’s awesome. Almost feels real, and Cas is fucking kissing back so it’s automatically turning his nightmare into a wet dream. Now when Dean wakes up he's half hard and able to drop off again relatively easily. Which is a helluva lot better than waking up screaming and sweating so he’ll take it.  

That becomes his new normal way to deal with nightmares and it’s easily the best thing his dream self ever came up with.  Maybe even the best thing he’s ever come up with period.

It continues that way for a while and even fuels a few regular dreams where he gets to do more than just kiss those scowling lips.  

So when Dean and Sam are stuck in a fucking barn and a ghost who he thought they’d taken care of three times already decides to throw pitch forks and shovels and fucking chainsaws at them, well, Dean starts to suspect that this particular brand of nasty undead bitch is just too over the top to be real life.  That feeling increases tenfold when Cas just stolls in the barn door, striding towards the tractor they’re taking cover behind with fury in his eyes.

Cas can’t just pop in and out of Dean’s life like a celestial jack-in-the-box anymore and there’s no reason coming to mind why Cas would suddenly be here, so Dean instantly feels a flutter of happiness.  Maybe this suckfest is just another fucking nightmare he can put to rest. It would explain the increasing dread he’s been feeling over one little ghost and how she’s been able to be all over town.   Without thinking twice Dean grabs at the lapels of Cas’ coat  reeling him in close for what’s sure to be the main event of this doomed dream.

Dean’s subconscious is on fire tonight. Cas smells so fucking good, feels solid and hard (no, not like that--well, not yet anyway) in Dean’s arms. He even tastes good. And the kiss. The kiss feels so much more real than normal, but it’s different too, Cas is somehow more stiff and it takes him longer than normal to kiss back.

But he does, eventually, and that’s all that matters.  Cas wraps his arms around Dean and Dean leans into him because now it’s time for the good fucking dream stuff to begin.  But then Sam yells, and that’s, well, not usual.

“WATCH OUT!!!”

Irritated at the interruption, Dean turns to look and the last thing he sees is a goddamn horse shoe flying straight at his face.

He wakes up in bed. Which okay. A pretty standard place to wake up. Instead of a hard-on he has a head ache. And Cas is still there, sitting on the edge of the bed and fussing over him.

“Whaa…?” Dean says softly not even sure the words make it out of his mouth, because he always wakes up in bed but Cas is never there.

But then Cas is looking concerned and petting at his hair and generally making a big deal out of nothing.

“Dean, are you all right?”

Dean pushes into a sitting position but it’s too quick.  His head spins and Cas steadies him.

“It’s okay, you’re all right, Dean. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“‘M not worried.” Dean manages to mumble and Cas only looks more concerned.

“You got hit in the head pretty hard.  I was able to fix your concussion but you might not be at 100% still.  With my powers the way they are…  Well, anyway, I hope it was enough that it doesn't hurt.   There shouldn’t be a scar. Oh, and we found the hex bag.”

Dean blinks at him. Confused. “Wasn’t it a ghost?”

As soon as the question leaves his mouth he remembers. Yes, it absolutely was a ghost. A regular she-demon, but if Cas is talking about a witch, then the whole ghost thing must have been a fucking nightmare after all. And thank Zeus (yup, not God, not anymore, he gets plenty of credit already that he doesn’t deserve) for that because Dean distinctly remembers kissing Cas recently and it, weirdly, feels a lot more real than when he normally wakes up, more vivid maybe, like a memory instead of just a quickly fading dream that leaves him feeling good.

Cas is talking but Dean is looking at his lips. Again. Shut up. And Dean is only half listening partly because of the staring and partly because he recently got clobbered over the head, thank you very much. Bits and pieces of it still seep through though and abruptly Dean realizes that Cas is talking about both. A ghost and a witch. Working together. Well, the witch had to be running things but that’s hardly important because Dean is still focused on Cas’ lips and, oh dear Poseidon, they’re fucking distracting. So much so that Dean is only now realizing he totally failed to notice that Cas stopped talking.  When did that even happen? And how long has Dean just been staring without responding.

“Umm….”

Cas squints at Dean’s contribution, looking uneasy.  And who can blame him.  Dean tries to make his brain work, he really really does but then he notices Cas’ hair and it’s a bit more … well, fluffy than usual.  Dean’s pretty sure he may have been responsible for that which… oh no.  Now Cas is looking sad and guilty, of all things.

“I’m sorry about what happened, Dean. When you kissed me, I didn’t realize you’d been hexed. I shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean asks but it comes out a little hysterical and what even is that?

“...No?”

“Cas, you didn’t.  I didn’t--are you telling me that I, that I did? Wait. So, did I, did we really just full-on make-out in front of Sam and a ghost trying to kill me and it wasn’t another Nightmare on Elm Street scenario or whatever?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare, Dean.”  Cas hesitates, all miserable and guilty looking again and Dean hates it. “But yes, you, I’m sorry I kissed you.  I didn’t intend to upset you, but I thought, admittedly it was a little strange, the situation, yes, but I did think you knew, that you were aware of what was happening.  Sam and I didn’t realize about the hex bag until afterwards.  I didn’t know that you were under the influence of witches.  And I apologize.”

“You weren’t the nightmare, dumbass,” Dean says, stern, because he can’t stand that look on Cas’ face.  “I thought I was having one and….”  Oh, shit, how does he explain this? Sorry, I just imagine sticking my tongue down your throat anytime things get tough in dreamland. Sure, that sounds legit.  “Uh, that’s how I make them stop,” Dean finishes lamely, trying not to cringe.  

Cas tilts his head at this new information, wanting to make sense of it.  

“So, when you have a bad dream, you do something… unbelievable to test your reality?”

“Yep.”

“I see. Well, still, I shouldn’t have responded. I should have realized something was wrong,” Cas says and Dean hesitates, but then plunges recklessly forward because Cas did kiss him back and if this conversation doesn’t go well, he’ll just pretend he doesn’t remember it ever happening. He  did suffer a blow to the head recently after all.  

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Cas turns his head to glare at a nearby lamp and after a moment looks back at Dean.

“That’s not of import.”

“Cas, c’mon. Tell me”

“I liked that you kissed me.”

“See, was that so hard?” Dean scoffs, mainly to buy himself some time to deal with this landmine of new information.

He needs the perfect response.  Needs to play his cards right if he wants to--oh fuck--those lips, why did he look at his lips again?

Cas wets them just to taunt him, the bastard, like Dean’ll be dumb enough to take the bait.  And oh no, he is that dumb, he really is.

Dean leans forward, grabbing at Cas again so he can kiss him for a second time today, but  without the worst audience ever watching for a change.

Cas gets with the program pretty damn quick and it’s fucking awesome. Dean’s a genius. And a great kisser, and Cas, he’s doing a bang up job too. Somehow better than Dream Cas by a long shot.

Dean smiles against Cas, kind of chuckles into his mouth a little bit.

“What?” Cas asks and damn his lips look even better flushed.  

“I’m just so happy I’m awake.”

“Actually,” Cas says, mock serious, “I’ve been meaning to tell you--”

“Don’t even joke about that, you asshole.”

“Of course not, Dean.”

And Dean can’t stay mad, because Cas is kissing him again.

[azvolrien]

Five Vignettes about Asta in Stormhaven - Museum

The Stormhaven museum has been mentioned a few times and is marked on the city map I drew a while ago, but we’ve never previously ‘visited’ it, so to speak. I perhaps inevitably picture its interior as a kind of hybrid between the National Museum of Scotland here in Edinburgh (before the recent renovation) and the Natural History Museum in London, those being my default mental images of ‘museum’.

~~~

           “So that’s it,” said Mia. “It’s over?”

           Asta bowed her head and massaged her brow with her fingertips. “Look… It – sorry for the cliché – it really isn’t you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I’ve enjoyed our dates. It’s just…”

           “There’s someone else,” finished Mia.

           Asta nodded. “Not – not physically. Not here. I haven’t been seeing anyone else. I wouldn’t do that to you. But… in here?” She touched her heart. “Yes. I’m still thinking of her, and that’s not fair to you. You deserve someone less… less distracted.”

           Mia sighed, but nodded. “I have noticed you’re not always… totally in the moment,” she said. “If you want to call it a day, well… Fair enough. But let’s finish this last date first, eh?” She lifted her teacup in salute. Asta smiled sadly and clinked her own cup against the rim.

           They said goodbye outside the café and went their separate ways. Asta tightened her scarf against the early spring breeze and crossed the road to the National Museum of Stormhaven. It was hosting a touring exhibition that sounded interesting, all about the ancient royal tombs of Kemet; Calburn had mentioned they had a genuine revenant on display, and those hardly ever left the desert province. She climbed the front steps and passed through the wide double doors into the main hall, a high, airy space that felt more like a temple than a museum, cool, quiet, and flooded with light from the glass roof three storeys above.

           The Kemet exhibition was all that had been promised, though the revenant was so fragile with age that it could no longer move without disintegrating. Asta dropped a half-crown coin into the donation box by the door and wandered off for a look around the rest of the museum, past the mounted skeleton of a huge bull mammoth at the door to the natural history wing, and on into the shadows of a leviathan skeleton suspended from the ceiling by thick hawsers bolted into the supporting columns.

           The escaped slaves who had founded Stormhaven had hailed from all over Stranatir, and that showed in the wide array of permanent exhibits. One hall was devoted to the Hawk Steppes, its back wall dominated by a mural showing a band of mounted hunters facing off against a fearsome thuru and its floor space filled with exhibits from well-used weaponry to a ceremonial caparison draped over a horse mannequin. Another detailed the founding of Stormhaven itself, outlining the story with such artefacts as chains from the slave ship whose wreck had freed them, the slightly moth-eaten original national flag, and paintings of the architects of the escape. Queen Eleri the First stared regally out from her canvas, grasping a broken chain in both hands and daring anyone to take her people back into slavery. The Falkari warrior prince Garaaz toth Kossu folded his brawny arms, but seemed to look over his audience rather than directly at them. Lady Meredith leant on her enormous battle axe, her eyes cast into shadow by the hood of her bearskin cloak and her face painted with woad and kohl.

           Asta paused in front of that last painting for a better look at its accompanying notice. Meredith, it explained, had hailed from the Sea Loch Country where she had worked as a village blacksmith, but Stormhaven had needed her more as a warrior and so she had fought to defend her new home until her death on the battlefield decades later, on the site of what would become the city of Northold. The notice concluded with a quote from Queen Eleri, describing Meredith as ‘at once a stalwart friend and a terrifying berserker’.

           Asta ran the tip of one finger over that final sentence, and carried on to the next room. That one turned out to be about the Sea Loch Country itself. Ancient carved stones circled the walls around a display of other artefacts; the preserved prow of a historic longship loomed over a reconstruction of a warrior’s burial, alongside weapons, tools, harness-fittings and more besides. In one corner, a glass case protected a scale model of a broch. Asta sat down on a nearby bench and, for several minutes, did nothing but stare at the model.

           How could she be homesick for somewhere she had only stayed for a month? It made no sense – and yet, more than a year after leaving, she still missed Dun Ardech so much that it made itself felt as a physical ache in her chest. She missed the smell of the sea, the cry of the gulls, and the main room of the broch with its central hearth and its squashy driftwood-framed couches. She missed the water horses resting on the rocks after dark. She even missed the chill wind, colder than it ever got in Stormhaven. But above all else, she missed Roan. Her cheerful grin and no-nonsense compassion. Her warm, solid presence alongside her at night, curled up together under the reindeer-skin blanket, and the unexpected sense of safety it brought with it. Her tattoos like the symbols on the stones, curving their way across her smiling face and strong arms. Asta shuddered and hugged herself, the memories now rising unbidden. The feel of Roan’s arms around her, Roan’s lips against hers. Her words on the jetty, the last time she had seen her. Forget me, if you have to.

           I can’t do that. Asta hadn’t said it then; she wished she had. She lowered her face into her hands and cried, her shoulders quivering with each near-silent sob.

           “I’d ask if you’re all right,” said a vaguely familiar voice after a while, “but the question seems redundant. Is there anything I can do to help?”

           Asta sat up, sniffling, to see a man looking at her with concern and offering her a handkerchief. She recognised him – he was one of the wizards from the College, and he was a very recognisable man – but they had never been introduced or even shared more than a few words in passing. “I don’t know,” she said miserably. “I just broke up with my girlfriend, and – I don’t know. Probably not.” She took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes as well as she could. “Thanks.”

           “Keep it for now,” he said when she tried to return the handkerchief. “I can get it back at the College later. Would a sympathetic ear be of any assistance?”

           “…Maybe.” She shuffled along the bench to make room for him and he sat down at the opposite end, more than an arm’s length away. “If – if you chat to people at the College much, you probably know I was a slave,” she began.

           “Yes, Fayn mentioned it to me once,” he said.

           “Oh, you know Fayn? I wasn’t sure if you’d have spent much time talking to the non-wizard staff.”

           “Fayn is a little more than a work acquaintance to me,” he said with a chuckle, holding up a plain gold ring strung on a fine silver chain around his neck, an identical twin to the one she had seen Fayn wearing.

           “Oh, you’re her husband? How have I been working at the College for the better part of a year now and I never heard that?” The man – Wygar, Fayn had called him – shrugged, smiling. “Well, so… I was a slave. I escaped, and eventually I got to Stormhaven. But in between those two points, there was this woman who helped me, and, well…”

           Slowly, not fully sure why, Asta told him the whole story from taking shelter in Dun Ardech to stepping off the ship in Seacourt. “…and I have tried to move on like she asked. I have. Got a job. Moved out of Ari’s house once I found my feet. Tried seeing other people. I just… I miss her. I really, really miss her. But then sometimes I wonder – she sent me away. Maybe she doesn’t miss me as much. And that’s… That’s a hard thought to bear.”

           Wygar looked down at his hands, the palms covered by fingerless gloves. “I don’t know this woman,” he said. “I can’t claim to know what she was thinking – though I do like what you’ve said about her style,” he added with a grin, not dissimilar to Roan’s. Asta giggled despite herself. “But usually when a person says they’d kill to protect someone, they’re speaking in hypotheticals. To actually do it is not the mark of a woman who is prepared to just forget about what you had with her. It sounds to me like she cared entirely too much about you to see you in danger, and I expect she misses you a great deal.”

           “Do you think I’ll ever see her again?”

           “I think you can take steps to make that happen,” said Wygar. “Duncraig isn’t terribly hard to get to these days. But all things considered, it might be wise to lie low in Stormhaven for a while longer. Fayn and I were in the Northern Forest last winter-”

           “Oh, is that where she disappeared to? I wondered why I hadn’t seen her for a few weeks. Sorry, go on.”

           “Yes, it was… quite an experience. But we ran into another escaped slave there – an elf from one of the clans, who’d killed his owner and made a run for it years ago. I gathered he’d never left the Forest since, in case he ran into his owner’s family. I don’t see why you shouldn’t return to the Sea Lochs one day – but it might be worth giving these MacArra people a bit time to forget what you look like first.”

           Asta sighed. “Will that ever happen?”

           Wygar inspected his nails. “They don’t sound like the type to look too closely at the faces of their slaves.”

           “That’s… actually not a bad point,” said Asta. “Daro would have recognised me instantly, but the rest… Hmm.” She steepled her fingers and gazed at the opposite wall without really seeing it. “Fayn didn’t send you to look for me, did she?”

           “No, in fact – she and Ari have gone to something at the theatre. I’m just very fond of this museum; it was something of a refuge for me when I was a child. I was looking at the dragon prow over there when I heard somebody crying.”

           “I was trying to be quiet…”

           “I have good hearing,” said Wygar, almost apologetically.

           “Can… can I ask you a question?” said Asta. Wygar nodded. “What does your tattoo signify?” She tapped her own cheek to indicate the blue stripe inked down his.

           “Overconsumption of alcohol,” he said wryly.

           “That’s very irresponsible,” said Asta, frowning.

           “Yes, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

           “Not you! The tattooist! They should never have agreed to tattoo someone who’d been drinking!”

           “…You are actually the first person to tell me that.”

           Asta half-sighed, half-laughed. “Well… Thank you. For listening.”

           “You’re very welcome. The gods know I’ve had plenty of practice.”

~~~

Asta has seen Wygar enough times for the shock of his appearance - that is, how, like Roan, he is also a tall, fair-skinned redhead with obvious blue tattoos - to have worn off, but this is the first real conversation they ever had.

We’ve never seen Mia before and probably never will again, but she seems like an understanding sort of person.

For anyone who’s interested, these are the two museum interiors referenced in the intro:

NMS:

NHM:

[laceyeb]

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts and feelings lately and it’s been weighing on me so I’m just going to write it all down and share it and then maybe I’ll get over it. Probably not. But it’s worth a shot. I wasn’t going to post all this because it’s feeling a little overdramatic now that I’ve read it back, but oh well. 

The most immediate thing is work right now. How I feel like I’m failing and screwing up and never good enough. I feel like I do so much and it just never makes a difference or seems to matter. I’m just feeling very “what’s the point” right now, which is not an easy thing for me to feel. (Please explain to me how sending home a DAILY progress report with your child is not frequent enough communication. How much more frequent can I possibly make it?! I also really love it when you flat out lie to your child about what we discussed so that I get to be the one to tell him he doesn’t get what he wants and then it’s my fault when he throws a temper tantrum because I’m the one who told him no. Really makes my job easier. Thanks.) Part of it is undoubtedly this time of year and a “slump.” Part of it is the fact that I just feel this impending sense of doom and dread every morning when I’m heading to work. Why am I doing something that is making me miserable? Because I don’t have any better ideas/options. That’s why. I also had a small epiphany this morning. It’s hard to explain without visuals. I had this image in my head of me sitting in the staff room at work and thinking “I belong here, but I don’t belong here.” Here being the bigger picture of the community/town/general area. 

Here’s a totally different and heavier thing that’s been on my mind the past few days:

The biggest problem with my road trip from my parents house to my house, aside from the fact that there’s been construction and traffic in the same damn city for the last 10+ years, is that it’s nearly 12 hours of me alone with my thoughts. In case you haven’t caught on, that’s probably not a good thing. It is in a way because it can be pretty cathartic. But sometimes it’s just a lot to deal with.

So I was driving back home on Saturday and I started thinking about the night before, sitting in the car with my parents and coming back home from dinner. I made the rare mistake of forgetting my headphones and had to hear the conservative talk radio show that my dad listens to. The only thing he ever listens to. They were airing an interview they did with a current democratic presidential candidate. Why? No idea. But they were. At some point my dad explained to my mom about why he doesn’t like that particular candidate (just spouting off the bullshit he hears on this radio show) and she said, “Oh. Then I don’t like him either.”

If I was another person, someone who liked confrontation perhaps, I would have said something. Instead I just held it in and spent hours stewing over it the next day as I was driving.

Look. Having opinions that are different from my own is totally fine. Believe what you want to believe. But the problem, and the problem I have with my mom in particular on this, is the lack of care and consideration. She actively chooses not to care about politics, political things, policies, etc. Anything like that. She just could not care less. And I used to be like that too. I didn’t start caring until the last few years. What I don’t understand is how you can just not care. Today, in this political climate (regardless of your beliefs), in 2020, how can you just not care?! I don’t understand. And if you do choose to care, do your fucking research. Don’t get all of your information from a single source. Branch out a little. Seek it out. Learn. Educate yourself. I swear it must be harder to not be politically aware these days with how simple it is to access information. 

Part of it is privilege. She doesn’t have to care. None of it affects her. Why would she bother to care? And while I’m not about to pretend I’m wildly oppressed and underprivileged, because I’m not, I don’t have the luxury of feeling like I don’t need to care. I used to. I don’t anymore.

Here’s another story that seems unrelated, but will be at the end:

If you pay attention, you know that coming out to my parents (again my mom in particular) is something that has really been weighing on me for the last year and a half or so. I’ve posted a decent amount about it and how much it has stressed me out, but that has still been only a tiny fraction of what I’ve been dealing with. I’ve gone back and forth on many things. The first being this: I could a) wait until I’m actually in a relationship before I come out so then I have “proof”, or b) come out first because then I feel like I could actually handle being in a relationship. I want both and I can’t have both. 

I’ve gotten to the point recently where I’ve kind of stopped caring about it. I haven’t stopped worrying, but I’ve stopped caring. If that makes any sense at all. It makes sense to me. A few weeks ago, I got to a point where I accepted that everything is just fine the way it is. Things can just be the way they are. I’m sure my mom must have figured out I’m gay all on her own at this point. It’s hard to believe she wouldn’t know or at least wonder. And that’s fine. And even if I did tell her, I know it would be just fine. It would be okay. Everything would be alright.

And I’ve accepted that, but there’s this little (kind of selfish) part of me that thinks that’s unfair. I know that “just fine” to some people would be the kind of positive reaction they could only dream of. I know that I’m lucky. But why should I have to settle for things being “just fine.” I want things to be good. I want her to tell me she loves me and tell me she’s proud of me and that’s just not what’s going to happen. Things will just be fine. We won’t really ever talk about it and it’ll be awkward, but it’ll be okay. And that’s not fair. I want more than that. 

So here’s how these two things are related. I had this epiphany during my road trip the other day that I’ve been feeling this sense of obligation to tell her. Of course I should/should want to tell her. She’s my mom after all. I owe her that much. But do I really? Really, I don’t owe anyone anything. Regardless of who they are or my relationship to them. 

This is what I was thinking: Best case scenario, I want to tell her, I can tell her in person with words, and it will all go well. I do believe that everyone should strive toward that. But what if that’s not what’s right for you? To me, telling her in person out loud with words doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like it will work for me. So I started thinking of it all in layers. If that first option doesn’t work, what’s the next best option? Maybe a phone call. And what if that doesn’t work? What’s next? A letter? And if that doesn’t work, then what? And so on and so forth. I feel like this is a good way to look at it.

So then I came to this conclusion: Do I owe her this information? No. Should I share it with her if I feel like I can? Of course. But I don’t, so maybe I just won’t. If she’s going to choose to not be politically aware, if she’s going to choose not to care, I don’t feel I owe her anything. While I know that me being gay (and her most likely knowing) and her choosing to not be politically aware are not connected (she’s not choosing not to care because I’m gay), it doesn’t change the fact that there are things she should care about and chooses not to. If she gets to not care, why should I? Why do I owe her a damn thing? I can’t figure out if that makes me sound childish and selfish and immature and whiny and whatever else. Maybe it does. But here’s the thing. I’m not deciding on the spur of the moment to just not tell her because she said/did one thing I didn’t like. I have spent nearly a year and a half thinking about this. I have done all the thinking and analyzing and deciding what’s best for me. This, choosing not to tell her and choosing not to feel obligated to tell her, is what I feel is best for me. That’s of course not to say she’ll never know. I’m like 95% sure she already does anyway. This is just me saying that I’m not going to sit in front of her and tell her in words. I’m just going to let it be. I’m just going to let myself exist in the world as the person I am and that’s just going to be good enough for me. 

[kaylynn-langerak]

Life Update / I miss you guys!

Hi everyone! This goofy game and wonderful community have been on my mind a lot lately, so I thought I’d pop in for a moment to say hello and post a little update.

Under a cut because I ramble.

As some of you know, my mental health has been in the toilet for a while. As none of you know, I stopped seeing my therapist several months ago. I never felt like she was helping me the way she should be. I do feel like she was helping in some way, but more in a “uninvolved person to bitch/rant/cry to” sort of way then a “paying $50 an hour for actual professional help” kind of way.

It’s nothing against her, I actually liked her. I haven’t actually liked a therapist since I was 11. I just never really felt happy with the service rendered, I guess. I don’t know if this is “bad” of me, I hope it’s not, but I want a diagnosis, dammit! I know I have my issues, and I want to “fix” them, but I don’t know how to even begin trying to fix the problem if the problem hasn’t been properly identified. I need help identifying my problem. I paid a professional for that help, but I hardly felt like she was even trying. She never asked questions, other than “How have you been?” (don’t get me started on that one, there’s just so many ways to answer that question in a therapy type situation). All my previous therapists asked tons of questions. I feel like she should have been? But I hadn’t been to one since I was 17, so do therapists for adults just not do that? There’s so many issues that I feel she should have known about, that were just never asked about or brought up in conversation, so I never mentioned anything. When I first started seeing her she had me take a bunch of online quizzes. She acted like it was so important that I get into my online account and do those quizzes, but she literally never mentioned them again. She only took notes the first day. One time she asked me if my urinary tract infection cleared up. I haven’t had one of those in a decade. I’m pretty sure she had me confused with another patient, which is pretty upsetting.

Sorry, I’m getting rambly. Back to the point. The last time I went was the first time she gave me any sort of “advice”, which was “Instead of focusing on what you can’t do, focus on what you can.” This was the most “helpful” thing she said to me in the six months I was seeing her. It’s nothing against the phrase itself, it’s a fine phrase, but it’s better suited for a text message or a cute positivity graphic on tumblr. It’s not what I’m paying $50 an hour for. That $100 a month is a lot when you live on a tight monthly budget like me. So I never went back.

So yeah, worsening depression + no one to talk to hasn’t been good for me. It takes so much effort just to get out of bed. Then I have no creativity and no desire to do anything. So I sit, and I think. And that’s the worst thing I can do. I have a tendency to get “stuck in my head”. I have to keep my brain busy to prevent that. With no creativity and no desire it’s hard to keep my brain busy and not lost in negative thoughts.

But I’m trying! I’m trying so hard. (Even if my mother insists that I’m not.) I’m very low on “spoons” right now, and I’m putting most of them to use in the garden, because of aforementioned issues if nothing depends on me then I feel like I serve no purpose and since some asshole burned my bird babies I have plant babies now which may be my way of dealing with the fire that destroyed my life 2.5 years ago that everyone keeps telling me I should be over by now plants make me happy . I might make another post about my plants later, I’d love to discuss plants with some sims friends!

Other than plants, I’ve been playing some xbox games, and I went to a renaissance faire last week! I was worried there would be a ton of people and I’d freak, or it would be so hot that I would just be sweaty and miserable, but there weren’t many people and there was tons of shade, so I ended up having an awesome time! Then I stopped by a nursery on the way home and bought 3 succulents for $2.50 each (they’re usually at least $5 here)!

I’ve been feeling a bit better in recent weeks, and of course as my positive spirit returns so does my desire to play the sims! My game is all crashy right now due to lack of C drive space (thanks to cc), so I’ve got to figure out how to shuffle around enough files for my game to actually run. But bodyshop runs fine, so maybe I’ll make some sims?

Alright, I’ll stop rambling now. I highly doubt anyone will read all of this, but if you did, thank you, and I’m sorry. Anyway, I love you all, and I really miss talking with my sims buddies! Hopefully my brain will stop being a jerk and I can get back to creating and sharing things with you guys soon!

[thelifeofhayleymarie]

18/01/2019: Closing a chapter of my life

This is a post I’ve been dreading to write. Just a warning too, its going to be very, very long. This will also unfortunately be my last post on this account.

5 weeks and 1 day. That’s how long its been since everything changed, since L ended things with me, and I’ve been trying my hardest to make sense of it all. I’ve been trying my best to find the words to be able to write this post, but I’ve really struggled. All I’m going to start off with is that my heart is absolutely, completely and utterly broken.

This is not how I imagined things would be. This is not how I wanted to end the distance. I imagined us together in our own house, with a couple of dogs, happy and inlove... not like this. Never in a million years did I think we’d end up like this, not with how inlove I was with him. It still doesn’t feel real. When you give someone all of you, love them harder than anything else you’ve ever loved in your life, you never expect them to tell you that they don’t want it anymore. That it’s not enough for them. It’s so hard to accept; its just unfathomable really. I wanted to marry him. I was willing to move across the country for this boy. I was so ready, and so excited. It’s just disappointing. I feel like I sacrificed so much for him. Put his needs before my own. Accepted the heartbreaking challenge of doing long distance without getting a choice in the matter. Supported him in going out and achieving his dreams while I waited here for him. And for what? Him to turn around and say he’s changed his mind and that he doesn’t feel the same anymore? That he doesn’t have the passion for the relationship and that he loves me but he’s not inlove with me now? This whole thing has left me devastatingly broken. And it hurts, my god does it hurt...

It’s been extremely hard and confusing for me to understand too. December 8th he told me that I’m the love of his life and that he can’t wait to come home to me, then on December 13th, only 5 days later… he told me he couldn’t do this anymore. It was absolutely soul shattering to hear those words. Especially because we hadn’t been fighting or anything. I thought we had been perfectly fine, he made me believe that we were doing better. He even texted me that morning saying that he loves me. Then later that night he completely pulled the rug out from under me.

He messaged me that Thursday night saying he wasn’t doing very well mentally and that he needs to talk to me. Me being me I dropped everything and called him immediately, desperately wanting to help him and understand why he was feeling this way. He wouldn’t completely tell me the truth behind it until I kept asking questions. When I asked him if he could think of one thing that makes him happier than anything else in the world, and he answered saying he’s happiest when being on holiday at the lake… my stomach dropped and I immediately knew what was going on; because he didn’t say he was happiest when he was with me. This lead into me asking a whole bunch of other questions where I discovered that he had been apparently feeling miserable for months because he doesn’t think he wants to be with me anymore, because he feels like he’s changed, we’ve changed. This phone call was 3 hours long, yet I couldn’t grasp what was going on. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. I was a mess after that phone call. I knew deep in my heart there was no coming back from that. I knew what he wanted, and it completely broke me. My best friend and my brother had to come and physically restrain me because of how inconsolable I was. I felt like my whole world was ending, especially because of how blindsided I felt. Eventually my mum had to literally medicate me to make me calm down. My heart couldn’t take it. I think I slept for 2 whole days after that.

Even though I knew it was over, a couple days later I had a very weak moment and called him and basically begged for him to just keep trying, at least until he comes home and we see each other (which was only a week away… I’d been looking forward to it for ages. I hadn’t seen him in 2 months... he was coming home for christmas on the 20th of december). But my god, it felt so degrading. No one should ever have to beg someone to not give up on them, or to try harder or love them back. I never wanted to stoop that low but I was in shock and I was desperate. And to my utter dismay- he said no. He didn’t want to try anymore. He said he’s been trying for months and it still just doesn’t feel right. This outraged me because 1, he hadn’t been completely honest and open with me about how he was feeling this way and 2, giving someone the bare minimum is NOT ‘trying’. He stopped meeting my needs a long time ago and I was too blinded by love to understand this. I deserved so much better than that. I deserve someone whose sure about me 100% of the time. I deserve someone whose consistent with their love and effort, which he very much lacked on and off throughout our whole relationship. His words rarely matched up to his actions. One day he’d say he loves me more than life itself and that he wants to marry me, the next he would hardly even speak to me. Complete head fuck right? But I stuck around because I loved him. Maybe that’s my own fault.

He was messaging me every day after that phone call- I don’t really know why, I think the guilt from hurting me was eating him up inside to be honest- but I just couldn’t reply to his messages. I needed space. I needed time to let it all sink in and to be able to reflect on it all. I eventually messaged him and asked him to give me the respect of ending things in person, where I can ask questions, get closure and say goodbye. He agreed and wanted that too. It’s so painful having to say goodbye to someone you wanted forever with. But I did it. I went over to his house a couple days after he arrived home and I got say my peace and get the closure I needed. And although I am hesitant to say, I also did end up seeing him a couple more times before he flew back home - alcohol and a broken heart dont mix well folks, trust me - but I surprisingly found that it didnt make things worse for me, because I had already accepted that this break up is probably for the best... dont get me wrong it was sad, and confusing but it was also nice to just be together, talk and take our time to say goodbye; our last goodbye, and the hardest one of all. It was especially hard seeing him cry along with me at the thought of it being the last time. But as I had time to reflect on it all leading up to seeing him each time, I came to the conclusion that this was for the best, and I told him that too. I knew I wasn’t being treated right, I knew I deserved better, I knew the distance had gotten to us too much, and I knew we both weren’t happy. But it was nice to end things on a good note and say goodbye in our own way.

During the past month I have rediscovered my worth and realized that I have so, so, SO much love to give, and if he doesn’t want it, then thats truely his loss. I put him on a pedestal for the longest time and forgot about myself through it all. I haven’t been fair to myself. So now, I think its time I put myself first- in every aspect of my life, not just through the break up. I’m going to try my best to leave all heartache in 2018, and begin to focus on my self worth, growth and all things positive in 2019.

As much as this hurts and as much as it killed me to do long distance this past year, I really have no regrets. I gave 110% of myself to this relationship and to L. I put my heart and soul on the line for someone I love and I think that’s something to be proud of- it’s actually admirable I think. Like a friend recently told me, I let someone know how it felt to be loved by me, and that’s beautiful. I love so damn hard too, and I deserve to get the same love back. Consistently. I also just want to make note that as much as this has hurt me, I don’t and will never wish ill upon him at all. I really just want him to be happy, and if that means not being with me anymore then so be it. I don’t think of him as a bad person- just someone whose young, and isn’t sure about what he wants. I’ve also realized that I can’t hate him for feeling a certain way. I don’t want to. That wouldn’t be fair. At the end of the day, as much as I tried to hold on, I think I always knew it wasn’t meant to be. There’s been too much hurt in the past, and the relationship was damaged from early on from certain things I think. The distance was also really, really difficult for both of us too; even though I felt like I could deal with it because I believed it would be worth it in the end, I guess he just couldn’t handle it, and that’s fair enough. Being away from the person you love constantly changes you. Its heart breaking. I’ll always love the person he is, and forever cherish every amazing memory we ever shared. Our love was epic. The past 2/3 years have been some of the happiest moments of my life- despite it being a rollercoaster at times. And I owe a lot to Luke and will always respect him. I just know now that maybe we’re not meant to be, and that’s ok. As hard as it is to accept that it’s over, and that i’ll never see him again (that part tears me up inside ugh), I’ll always remember him as my first love, and I’ll always appreciate the beautiful times we had together. I still love him, I think I always will, but I’m a big believer in everything happens for a reason, and I know I’ll be stronger from this.

I just want to also say a big thank you to everyone who has gone on this journey with me, for all the love and support and advice shared. It’s helped more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you guys. I’m going to miss being apart of this beautiful little community of long distance and military couples. Even though it didn’t work out for me, I still believe long distance can work and that those who are willing to make it work, no matter the struggles, are some of the strongest and most noblest people around. But just remember, if you’re giving more than you’re getting, if you’re beginning to question your worth, if you’re crying more than you are happy, if you’re the only one holding on and trying to make it work, then you need to be honest and fair to yourself and understand that you deserve so, so much better- and you will find that one day, I promise. A part of me wishes I had’ve realised sooner.

I’m closing a chapter of my life, only to begin a new one. I hope 2019 blesses all of you. Best of luck with everything, I really am rooting for you all!

(I’m also not going to delete this blog. It holds way too many incredible memories and posts of happier times that I would like to look back on in years to come. And although it makes me sad now, I just think its so special and it may also be able to help others to read. But, like I said earlier, this will unfortunately be my last post...

If you’d like to contact me in anyway from now on I will be using my main blog more regularly. You can find me at:

http://tr-anspar-ent.tumblr.com/)

Stay strong, keep fighting through the distance and for the ones you love. Always remember you’re not alone.

Love always,

Hayley x

[bbclesmis]

Just Like Jean Valjean, Dominic West Is Done Being A Bad Guy

After a career of playing notable villains,  actor Dominic West says he’s ready to turn a new leaf. So his role as the tortured thief, Jean Valjean, in the new MASTERPIECE production of Victor Hugo’s classic novel, Les Misérables, is a helpful bridge to be a better man on screen. In an interview, he talks about what it means to play Valjean, how his character seeks personal redemption and what the rest of the series has in store for the repentant former prisoner 24601.

Transcript:

Jace Lacob: I’m Jace Lacob, and you’re listening to MASTERPIECE Studio.

The story is well known — an impoverished man steals a loaf of bread to feed his family, and spends 19 years in prison. Upon his release, the convict nearly falls prey to old habits… but instead spends the rest of his life struggling to prove he has truly reformed.

CLIP

Old Woman: What are you doing there, my friend?

Jean Valjean: Trying to sleep, what does it look like?

Old Woman: Why don’t you go to an inn?

Jean Valjean: I did. They wouldn’t take me. No would take me.

Jace: In Andrew Davies’ sweeping new adaptation of Victor Hugo’s legendary epic, Les Misérables, the bleak stakes of the story take on dazzling new heights.

CLIP

Bishop: Consider this: even if the world has done you a great injustice, does it really serve you to have a heart full of bitterness and hatred?

Jean Valjean: How could I not have a heart full of bitterness and hatred? I’d like to see you after 19 years in the hulks! So don’t preach to me about God and love.

Jace: Best known for his turns in The Wire and The Affair, actor Dominic West has made a name for himself playing villainous rogues on American and British television, and his role as Jean Valjean includes its fair share of monstrous rage and sly trickery. Despite all this, he also found room for moral clarity.

Dominic West: This man’s a brute…who for whom compassion and humanity has been withheld for 20 years, and it takes a bit more to for him to be able to control that bestial side.

Jace: West joins us to explore Valjean’s story still to come in Les Miserables, why he might be done with playing scoundrels, and how he and his wife have become their own real-life Monarchs of the Glen in their castle-hotel in Scotland.

And we are joined this week by Les Misérables star and executive producer, Dominic West. Welcome.

Dominic: Thank you very much. Hi.

Jace: Jean Valjean has preternatural strength and a secret identity. Is he the first superhero in literature?

Dominic: He’s not the first because I suppose you’ve got the Greeks, but he’s the best. And he climbs buildings like Spiderman and he beats people up like Iron Man and he rescues children like Superman. But none of those superheroes did 19 years hard labor in a 19th century French jail, so he’s the toughest of the lot. I think.

Jace: We all know Jean Valjean’s prisoner number by heart and his story of redemption. What was the initial appeal of playing Valjean?

Dominic: The initial reservation was that the been played so many times before and that the film of the musical had just come out, and therefore what the hell have we got to add to it and certainly what have I got to add to the part? But the appeal came once I started reading the book and I realized it’s the best book I’ve ever read, and probably ever written. And that he’s I think the greatest hero in literature. And I quickly fell in love with him and  suppose what was most appealing about him, apart from his strength and ability to save children’s lives, etcetera, was his inner heroism, his heroics of battling your own demons and trying to do what’s right rather than what you impulsively and emotionally feel like doing.

Jace: We see Valjean not when he’s released from prison, but at the thick of it at the quarry. He strikes a massive boulder and it plummets down onto a guard, the same man who hit him earlier when he’s led through Toulon in chains. Is this an accident, or an intentional act on his part?

Dominic: Is very much intentional. He’s been brutalized for 19 years and he’s quite happy to want to kill anybody and certainly kill his tormentors. What becomes an accident is that he then rescues the guy that he’s just dropped the rock on and that of course is usually significant later on in Javert’s recognition of Valjean later. So no, he’s a brutalized brute who wants to harm people, wants to get revenge.

Jace: Even in these early scenes there’s an almost magnetic pull between Valjean and Javert that feels almost psychosexual, in a way.

CLIP

Javert: Well now, 24601. What was all that about today? You saving that guard’s life, why? If you  were trying to get yourself an early release, you tried in vain. There’s no hope of that, no hope at all.

Jace: And why is Javert so obsessed with this particular prisoner?

Dominic: Well it’s the big question it was the first question I asked in rehearsal, it’s the obvious question — What the hell is wrong with this guy? You know? What’s his beef? Why is he…? Because it’s not very apparent in the book at all. And I think we discuss this a lot and my preference is always to go for the big motivators which are love and sex. I think that’s what motivate most of us the most. And so I think there’s a huge magnetic attraction that Javert has for Valjean, and David hints that in the scene where I’m stripping off and he has a look, and it’s just one look, and it’s sort of…it just lets it hang there. David didn’t want it to overplay that bit because I think he thought what was more important was the attraction that a very small bitter mind has for the big mind, that a mean person has for a generous person, that the devil has for a saint. You know, I think that that’s probably more interesting.

Jace: These two men come to represent two very different sides in a philosophical debate about good and evil. Why is Valjean’s ultimate optimism, the notion that change and forgiveness are possible, so refreshing particularly right now?

Dominic: Well I suppose it’s fairly standard thinking now, that we’re not born bad, that we are the products of our environment and of of how people treat us. But when this book was written this was very much a philosophical debate that people believed, you know, people like Javert, that people are born bad and there’s nothing you can do about it. I think after, you know, a century of psychology and modern psychology and we realize that that’s not necessarily the case, but it’s worth being reminded of these things because I suppose you know, in modern political life in the UK and the US there’s a lot of currency in vilifying people for what they are, rather than who they are.

Jace: I mean even recently in France protesters called Emmanuel Macron president of the rich. I mean Les Misérables feels incredibly relevant and timely given the class struggles and sort of wealth inequality of today. Does that notion sort of stick with you, having played this part?

Dominic: Yeah I mean the French revolution happened because the gap between rich and poor never been wider. And I think it’s a lot wider now. And I think one thing that Victor Hugo understood was that once that chasm between rich and poor widens enough, there’s going to be trouble. And that it’s unsustainable. And I think I remember making this realizing that, you know, this what we have now, which is an enormous gulf between rich and poor in the world and in America, it’s pretty dangerous territory. And revolution tends to follow that of territory.

Jace: One year later Valjean is released from prison and giving one hundred nine francs after various deductions. But more importantly he gave his name back and becomes more than just a number.

CLIP

Javert: Here is your passport. You are required to show it to the authorities in every town and village you pass through. You have your name again, Monsieur 24601. I wonder if you can remember what it is.

Valjean: Jean Valjean.

Javert: You sure about that?

Valjean: JEAN VALJEAN!

Jace: Why is this such a powerful and profound moment of self identity for the prisoner?

Dominic: Well I suppose from what you says, he you, know he becomes a human being again, rather than a statistic or a number or a commodity. And hence his shouting to the echoing forests and wide open valley that he’s now free to roam. He shouts his name. And it’s very interesting with Valjean, his journey goes from being a number, to being Valjean, to being Monsieur Madeleine, when he’s the mayor, to being one in denial of Jean Valjean and of that being a personality that he is ashamed of, until his final embrace of that. And so it’s it’s very crucial to his arc and his development and his evolution that his names plot very clearly, what he’s called is very, very relevant to his state of mind.

Jace: I love the scenes between you and Sir Derek Jacobins Bishop of Dean.

CLIP

Valjean: You give me a bed here, right next to yours? Are you crazy? How do you know I’m not a murderer?

Bishop: That’s the Good Lord’s business, not mine. Or to put it another way, I’ll take my chance with you, my friend. Good night now, and sleep well.

Jace: What was it like filming these scenes with Derek Jacobi?

Dominic: Well it was bliss. It was. I mean I’ve admired him for years, and it is a tricky one when you got to cast the sort of most virtuous, nicest best man who’s ever lived, which is how he reads in the book. It’s so hard to write about virtue, it’s so hard to make virtue interesting. It’s easy to make the devil funny and interesting but it’s hard to make a saint interesting. And that’s what Victor Hugo does and that’s what Derek Jacobi does. And there’s very few actors who can do that, can make virtue interesting. But acting with him, who is a real hero of mine was in one sense, it’s dead easy because he does it all for a year and he’s so sympathetic and another it’s very salutary, it’s very…he was extraordinarily, he was very detached, you didn’t get involved talking much, you sat very quietly at the side of the set until he’s called. He’s very contained as an actor. And very generous, but it was great watching a master at work.

Jace: There’s a beautiful moment right before the Petit Gervais incident when Valjean collapses under the tree. We hear the church bells ringing out. We see the sunlight streaming through the leaves of the tree. It’s a really beautiful moment and then there’s temptation in this sort of Garden of Eden. The singing boy with his coin. What makes Valjean fall once more?

Dominic: Well it’s interesting, but in the book and I think in the script, too, but we didn’t end up filming it, is when he’s under the tree, after having encountered love and kindness for the first time in 19 years from the Bishop, he remembers his mother and he remembers the last time he felt loved, which was from his mother. And so that was what was going on at that moment of where the transformation is starting to happen. It’s been put in place by the Bishop, he remembers his mother and in the book that sort of precipitates his anguish, when his best side comes out, what makes him fall, what makes the scorpion sting? You know, he’s a scorpion and this man’s a brutalized man who for whom compassion and humanity has been withheld for 20 years and it takes a bit more for him to be able to control that bestial side.

Jace:You’re a dirty thief,’ Petit Gervais screams at him. How much will these words haunt him in these episodes to come?

Dominic: Well totally, and I think what’s interesting, what’s so beautiful about how Victor Hugo makes the agent of Valjean’s change being a little child, a defenseless child who is essentially, Valjean sees him, the bestial Valjean sees him as someone weak and therefore to be exploited. And what he learns is that the weak are what give us humanity and one’s attitude and one’s treatment of the weak is crucial to our humanity.

Jace: You mentioned a damascene conversion. After stealing Petit Gervais’s 40 sous, he changes his mind. He calls out to him. There’s a look of profound agony on your face as he searches his soul. Is this the moment where he where he does decide to be good?

Dominic: Yeah I think it is. I think the whole tragedy of his life and of his brutality comes crashing in on him he realizes that the deep, deep, deep sorrow of what’s happened to him in the last 20 years. And I think as soon as he’s allowed to pity himself in a way is is when he starts to love himself again.

Jace: Valjean collapses on the road curling up into a fetal ball in the dirt. Should we read the scene as a spiritual or moral or rebirth?

Dominic: Yes, very much so. Yeah, and I think that that element of the remembering the mother, which was we didn’t show explicitly, that is very much what Victor Hugo was writing I think that this is, he is reborn back into humanity.

Jace: What was it like filming this particular sequence?

Dominic: It was bloody hard. And really hot. It was really hot and it was the end of a long day that finally I had had to collapse. And I did seem to spend a lot of the shoot in tears. But for some reason at this point I couldn’t, the tears didn’t come. Which is fine, because they have to, but I was very conscious that this was probably the most important single moment of the whole story. And that can be very daunting to try and act. So I found it hard, and I’m still not entirely happy with it.

Jace: This first episode centers on both Valjean and Fantine. There are circumstances in this first episode are very different but they’re forced to make a choice by the end of the installment. Are they mirrors for each other in a way?

Dominic: Yeah, I suppose as she descends, he ascends. I suppose her attitude to Valjean the prisoner would probably be similar to what her daughter’s is later on, of revulsion and horror and what happens of course when they meet is that he becomes her protector.

Jace: Before this next question, a quick word from our sponsors…

Jace: You’ve played a lot of philanderers in your career, whether that’s McNulty or Noah on The Affair. Hector Madden in The Hour. Willie in Collette. Many, many philanderers. Why is that, do you think?

Dominic: I don’t know. I mean I’ve played a lot of villains and this was one of the, I suppose that was the initial attraction of Valjean was not playing a villain, playing the hero and the good guy, but as to why it’s philandering I don’t know. I’m not, I don’t know, I’ve no idea why people think I suited for philanderers. But they think I seem a villain. So hopefully after this I’ll be just plain, monogamous heroes.

Jace: Your big break came with David Simon’s seminal HBO series The Wire, my favorite all time series where you played Jimmy McNulty. Was there a sense at the time that this was a groundbreaking piece of television?

Dominic: I don’t think so. I think I’m sure we were all aware that with The Sopranos and that this was the dawn perhaps of a new golden era. But it’s very hard I find to take an objective view on things, I mean, and I’m only just starting to get an objective view on Les Misérables, in fact. And certainly while we were shooting no one, no one was watching it, really. I mean, a few law enforcement people and lawyers and a few gangsters but no one really was watching and certainly no one from the UK, and so I didn’t really, I wasn’t really aware of how how important it was and how what a groundbreaking series it was until much later, I think. You’re just too close to see these things.

Jace: True or false you joined: in Argentina you joined an Argentinian circus for a spell.

Dominic: I did, De La Guarda. Yeah it was, it was only in New York for a while and I did it in London for five months. Best job I ever had.

Jace: Sarah Treme, who created The Affair said of you quote, ‘He’s not afraid to let a character be complicated. There’s a flawed humanity that he seems to understand inherently.’ How do you react to that?

Dominic: What a lovely thing for Sarah to say. Yeah, I do get a lot of philanderers and a lot of villains but usually they have another side to them, and I think it’s essential no one is purely evil or purely good. Most of us are conflicted. So it’s important to be an actor who can portray that.

Jace: Given how well you nail the accent in The Wire and The Affair, are fans ever surprised to realize you’re not American in real life?

Dominic: They Oh I’m great I’m glad Yeah they still are. People still come up and I’m amazed. But I remember when I did it when The Wire had just come out in the UK and was getting quite a big following and there was a charity night and I was asked to go along. And it was a quiz night, that was as a charity night that was a quiz night, and the way the quiz was entirely about The Wire. And so it was full of Wire nuts, you know, people who really knew the show. And I remember going in and I had to ask the final question or something like that and I started speaking and I just remember sensing the whole room deflate with disappointment that hearing my accent when they realized I was a Brit. And so I you know usually in America people are pleasantly surprised, in the UK, people are unpleasantly surprised that I’m just a Brit.

Jace: Off screen you’re living your own version of Monarch Of The Glen. You recently rescued your wife Catherine’s family seat Glin Castle in County Limerick and converted it into a family run hotel. How is that project going?

Dominic: Well it’s great fun. It’s not true to say we rescued it, it was run as a hotel by her parents and then her father unfortunately died. So it was put on the market. But yeah, we decided to keep it going and to try and make it a going concern. It has been in my wife’s family for 700 years, really not much choice, but it’s going OK, actually. It’s going remarkably well, I think. You know, Ireland is sort of booming at the moment and I think once nobody from Europe is allowed to go to Britain anymore, then they’ll all flock to to Ireland.

Jace: Who is funnier —Dominic West or Olivia Colman?

Dominic: Olivia Colman is spectacularly funny and able to laugh and joke right up until they say action, when she is then able to go into a serious moment, as you can, which is not something Dominic West can do quite as well. And I felt as I found to my cost on the set of Les Mis, it was maybe that scene where we had the big fight at the Thenadier’s, and we were all crying with laughter at what Olivia was saying and then I realized of course that I had to do some proper acting. So I then tried to avoid her after that.

Jace: You directed an episode of The Wire and an episode of Jimmy McGovern’s Moving On. Is directing something you’d like to do more of in the future.

Dominic: Yeah I after doing that I thought that’s what I wanted to do forever and then I realized actually, well two things happened — when I started getting very good acting parts, I didn’t really have time for the writing, and the other one was I realized that a director is first in and last out, whereas an actor is last in and first out.

Jace: You left Guild Hall in 1995 one of your first onscreen roles that year was the Earl of Richmond in Richard III opposite Sir Ian McKellen. Was it a formative professional experience.

Dominic: Oh very much so. Robert Downey, Jr. was in it, Annette Bening was in it, Maggie Smith was in it. It was an amazing cast that I was just out of drama school and was able to sort of go around watching them all at work. And it was headed by Ian McKellen who’s a really great leading man in terms of his compassion and his ability to lead a cast and keep everybody happy. It was yeah, it was a wonderful job and an amazing job to have at an early stage in your career, because it was with a lot of people who were very generous with their knowledge.

Jace: You once reached out to wine critic Robert Parker to try and interview him. What ended up happening?

Dominic: He lives in Baltimore, so I was in Baltimore and I said, ‘Look can I come and interview you?’ and he said, ‘No you can’t but I’ll tell you what, you bring some of The Wire cast, I’ll bring the wine.’ And so we went out for dinner and there were four or five of us from The Wire. Andre, who played Bubbles, was with us and insisted on drinking Jack and Coke the whole time. I was telling him, ‘This is the best wine you’ll ever have in your life, and you insist on Jack and Coke?’ So we drank a lot of extremely great wine and I can’t remember much about it other than Robert Parker very generously gave us an hundred year old bottle of cognac and he said ‘I want you to open that when you finish the last frame of The Wire,’ and we did, which happened to be at six o’clock one morning in Baltimore. And we nailed the whole bottle.

Jace: That’s amazing. Dominic West, thank you so very much.

Dominic: Thank you very much.

Jace: Jean Valjean is the narrative core of Les Misérables. But his lifelong nemesis, the relentless Inspector Javert, keeps things moving in his pursuit of personal justice.

David Oyelowo: He has no problem in in saying that person is a criminal. And so therefore they deserve this punishment.

Jace: Actor David Oyelowo joins us next week on the podcast with a close look at how Javert’s need for truth and justice propels Victor Hugo’s epic forward.

MASTERPIECE Studio is hosted by me, Jace Lacob and produced by Nick Andersen. Elisheba Ittoop is our editor. Susanne Simpson is our executive producer. The executive producer of MASTERPIECE is Rebecca Eaton.

[anonymouswriter2311]

Furballs and Cheese Burgers

Summary: The Dingle-Field family go to an animal adoption fair and come home with a new family member. Mostly Noah/Vanessa fluff 

“Noah! Moz! Johnny-bobs! Get your little behinds down here now, or I’m leaving you behind to mop up the bogs with Chas!” Charity hollered, her voice travelling upstairs to the laughing trio. The small pub home had recently been getting a bit cramped over the last few months. Vanessa and Johnny’s presence becoming an almost normal sight. Johnny blended perfectly into the Dingle clan, and he and Moses had become the best of friends within the blink of an eye. Even Noah had taken a shine to the three-year-old and would occasionally play with the two boys. His relationship and attitude towards Vanessa however, hadn’t changed much. While he didn’t always talk back or roll his eyes when she talked, his dislike for the vet was still very obvious.

“Not the smelly toilets!” Johnny called out as he jumped down the stairs, with his hand clasped tightly to Moses’. Both extremely excited for the day filled with fun and bouncy castles they had been promised. Vanessa had been roped into attending the monthly adoption fair in Hotten - not that she really minded, it was her chance to show that she was still committed to her job and sorry for the whole Ketamine situation – and decided that it would make a nice day out for the small family.

“Then get a wiggle on Johnny-bobs, we don’t want to keep Mummy waiting.” The blonde coed, lifting both boys down the final few steps, before letting them run off into the living room.

“Do I have to go?” Noah sulked after them, a look of pure misery plastered on his face. He had originally been all for the idea until he found out that it was Vanessa’s.

“Already told you the alternative babe,” Charity chirped as she tried and failed to catch the running boys, who were circling the living room in different directions, their laughter filling the air as they did so.

“It’s gonna be boring!” The teenage boy added, plopping himself onto the sofa in a huff.

“Probably, yeah.” The blonde nodded spiritedly before she gave up on the pointless chance and sat beside Noah. “But you know how excited Ness was about today, with the suspension and everything that’s been going on lately…she just needs today to go well.” She smiled shyly, placing a pleading hand on her son’s leg.

“I get that, but why do I have to go? She don’t need me holdin’ her hand.” Noah shrugged. He didn’t know why he felt this time, well not fully. He was scared. Scared that he’d get attached and then she’d leave. So he pushed her away, pretended that he hated all the little things she tried to do for him.

“Look, babe, I know you aren’t her biggest fan for some reason that I don’t have time to figure out right now, but please. Just for today, try and be a little bit nice.” Charity pleaded with her son, this was the only relationship she had really cared about in a long time, and the only thing standing in the way of it being perfect was Noah’s dislike for Vanessa, and how miserable that made the blonde vet feel.

“Fine, but if there’s burgers I’m getting one,” Noah added bluntly, feeling bad for what he was doing. But he just couldn’t trust her…not yet.

“Then you best make sure that smile is bright and present at all times! Vanessa needs support, not a moping teenager.” The blonde woman gently bumped shoulders with the teenager, earning a scowl in response.

“Aye aye.” He smirked, adding a fake finger salute.

“Good boy. Now, go and put your brother's shoes on while I try and tackle Johnny’s coat, can’t for the life of me keep that thing on him.” Charity let out a shaky breath of frustration as she picked up the bright raincoat off the table. Charity had been dumbstruck when she had first seen Johnny toddling in wearing the same coat as his Mother one day, and her feelings towards the hideous coat had not changed, no matter how much Vanessa tried to change her mind.

“Maybe it’s the colour. Don’t ya think it’s a little bright?” Noah chuckled, playing with the sleeve slightly.

“Obviously babe, but Vanessa has this thing about the colour yellow that I wouldn’t dare get in the middle of.” Charity joked, pulling the jacket away from the prying teenager. A small smirk working on her lips, knowing that Vanessa wasn’t the only one that had a thing for the colour yellow.

After catching the two small children and forcing them into their shoes and coats, the small group set off on the drive to Hotten. Vanessa had left in the early hours of the morning and was currently freezing her ass off as she waited for anyone to approach her stall. The surgery didn’t always attend the adoption days, it was more for shelters and outreach homes for animals. But when Paddy had found an abandoned pregnant guinea pig a few weeks back, they suddenly found themselves with a litter of piglets and a mummy that needed new homes. So far no one had even been remotely interested in what she had to offer and were instead spending their time playing and adopting the dogs and cats the shelters had. Vanessa was bored out of her mind, she wished that the day would just end already so she could crawl into bed with Charity and not have to think about how she was going to get all of the guinea pigs adopted by the end of the day.

“Hey, you made it!” Vanessa shouted excitedly as her girlfriend came into view, with the three boys trailing behind.  “Hello, my little darlings.” She cooed as she bent down to hug the smaller boys while sending a soft smile and nod in Noah’s direction.

“Told we would didn’t I?” Charity smiled brightly before placing a small kiss on Vanessa’s lips. “How’s everything going here? Got rid of any little rats yet?” She asked as she craned her neck to look into the small box, still filled with seven piglets and their mummy.

“Umm they’re Guinea Pigs...and no I haven’t.” The vet admitted sadly, as she gave one of them a small pet.

“Char’tee bounce!” “Bounce!” Johnny and Moses cheered in unison as they jumped on the muddy grass, splashing small specks of muck onto their jeans.  

“Go, I’ve got a stall to man anyway.” Vanessa smiled lovingly at the two boys, before stealing one more kiss from Charity.

“We’ll be back in a bit okay...come on monsters!” The barmaid promised as she reached down to take Johnny and Moses’ hands. “Noah babe, you coming?”

“No thanks, I’m gonna get a burger and I need change.” The teenage boy shrugged, before flashing a fake smile at his scowling Mother.

“Oh here, I have some.” Vanessa quickly jumped in, before scooping a few quid out of her pocket and handing it to the still smiling boy. “I’d stay away from the cheeseburger if I were you, I had one earlier and-”

“Thanks.” Noah quickly interrupted, walking away abruptly.

“It wasn’t the best.” Vanessa continued defeatedly, kicking the ground as she watched Noah disappear into the crowd.

“Give it time babe, he will come around eventually.” Charity smiled apologetically, as Johnny and Moses pulled at her arms with all their little might.

 “Hey, at least he said thanks and didn’t completely ignore my existence.” The vet plastered on her own fake smile, as she moved to resume her place behind the small table. “Go, before they rip your arm off.”

 Vanessa smiled brightly as she watched her girlfriend run after the two toddlers all day. They moved from one kid event to another. Bouncy castles, face painting, hook a duck, you name it and they did it. Vanessa’s stall still, however, remained to be the least popular one out of the lot, and apart from Charity stopping by, there hadn’t been anyone else. Which is why it surprised the blonde vet when the usually quiet guinea pigs jumped to life all of a sudden and squeaked louder than ever. Running around to the back of the stall, Vanessa was pleasantly surprised to see Noah reaching into the box of guinea pigs.

“Hey, Noah,” Vanessa smiled softly as she walked over to the teenage boy, already preparing herself for him to shrug her presence off and ignore her.

“Alright...there’s a lot of them still here. Doesn’t anyone want one?” He uncharacteristically smiled back, as the little piglets ran over to his fingers for a pet.

“Apparently not,” The vet shrugged shyly while crouching down beside the teenager.

“That’s not fair,” Noah whispered, a frown playing on his lips.

“I agree. These little guys need a home just as much as the puppies and kittens...but I’ll probably have to bring em all back to the surgery later.” Vanessa gently bumped his shoulder, as the smallest of the litter hobbled over to them.

“What happened to that one's leg?” He asked as Vanessa gently scooped the blonde ball of fluff into her arms.

“This is Luna. She got her leg stuck when she was being born, and it just stayed that way I guess.” The vet explained carefully while trying to hold back the huge smile from creeping onto her face. This had been the first time, Noah had actually been interested in what she was saying and it melted her heart.

“Ness? Do you think I could help out? I don’t think it’s right, them not finding a home.” He asked as Luna nudged his finger with her nose.

“I could use all the help I can get.” She sighed happily, as she placed the squirming piglet back into the box.

“That’s for sure.” Noah joked, a signature Dingle smirk appearing on his face.

“Oi! Cheeky sod!” Vanessa playfully pushed him, before standing up and reaching her hand out to help him up. “So, what’s your big plan?”

Noah was a natural people person, not that it surprised Vanessa in the slightest. She had always seen the young blonde as a younger male version of Charity. He managed to rope a bunch of families into checking out Vanessa stall, he shared facts about the small creatures - that Vanessa had excitedly shared moments before - he lifted the guinea pigs out for children to hold, showing them the proper way, he even managed to use his baby blues to sweet talk an old lady into bringing the Mother home with her, claiming that it would be calmer than one of the babies. He did it all, and Vanessa couldn’t be prouder.

 “Well, I’d call that a job well done.” Vanessa clapped excitedly as she closed the folder of adoption papers, and smiled brightly at an exhausted-looking Charity. She had stumbled over to them a few minutes prior, and immediately collapsed onto the small chair Vanessa had brought with her.

“Think you might have missed one babe.” Charity pointed out as a small squeak filled the air.

“Noah, I thought you said they were all gone.” The vet sighed as she looked into the box and saw Luna jumping around happily.

“I did...but I didn’t like the look of that family. Luna is special and needs a family that will treat her that way.” Noah quickly jumped off the table and scooped the little furball into his arms, bringing her over to Johnny and Moses, who were looking almost as tried as Charity.

“I agree, but we can’t judge a family on how they look.” Vanessa pointed out as she smiled brightly at the sight of the three boys huddled together, cooing over the little guinea pig.

“She’s right babe, take Vanessa and Johnny-bobs for example.” Charity spoke up, earning a glare from Vanessa daring her to continue. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think that they were trying to make a follow-up to IT, with their yellow raincoats. But I know that it’s just my wonderful girlfriend’s odd fashion choice.” She added, knowing that it pushed her buttons just a little bit and make a point at the same time.

“Yellow is bang on trend at the moment I’ll have you know!” Vanessa argued back, as the three boys giggled slightly.

“Wonder why.” The barmaid muttered, rolling her eyes playfully.

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make Charity!” Vanessa huffed out, before turning her attention back to Noah. “What I was saying was, Luna could have found a real home today Noah. That was our job, and now she’ll have to wait until next month and even then there’s no guarantee.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it through.” He shrugged sadly as he brought the guinea pig up to his lips, kissing her nose slightly. “I guess, a part of me just wasn't ready to let her go.”

“Aww…” Vanessa couldn’t help but put her hand firmly over her heart at the sight.

“No! Ness tell him no!” Charity quickly jumped to her feet, already seeing where the conversation was heading.

“You did say that we came here to support Ness, what’s more, supportive than helping adopt her last guinea pig?” Noah added innocently, as he held Luna out for Charity. “How could you say no to that face?”

“Babe, we just don’t have the room...and we aren't meant to have pets at the pub remember. I know you like the little thing, but I’m sorry.” Charity felt horrible, truly. She knew that Noah had always wanted a pet, and every time the answer was no, but she couldn’t risk it. She’d rather they had a roof over their heads than a squeaking furball.

“She...she could always live at mine,” Vanessa mumbled before four sets of eyes stared intensely at her.

“Really?” Noah’s face lit up, Charity had never seen him so happy in all his life.

“I mean, you’ll have to come around to change her cage and lift her out every other day...but if you really want her, then yes.” The vet nodded happily, melting at the sight of the teenager happy for once.

“Thanks so much, Vanessa! You’re the best!” He quickly stood and pulled the unexpected vet in for a one-armed hug, before going back to join the two boys who were celebrating the family new pet.

“Babe, he’s a big boy. You really don’t have to.” Charity said in a hushed whisper as she pulled them away slightly.

“How could I not! Just look him with her.” Vanessa snapped lovingly, gesturing over to Noah and Luna.

“Thank you...it broke my heart saying no to him.” The taller blonde admitted as she snaked her arms around Vanessa’s waist, placing a small kiss into her hair as they cuddled together.

“Well, that’s the best thing about having two homes isn't it?” Vanessa added, before leaning up to peck Charity’s lips softly.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” Charity winked.

“I do. But how about we head back to mine.” Vanessa purred, stealing another more forceful kiss. “Get the kids settled and you can show me just how amazing I am?”

“I like the way you think Miss Woodfield.” Charity cooed back, as she playfully slapped Vanessa's bum.

“Marshall! Marshall!” Johnny called out running past the two embracing blondes, trying to catch the dalmatian he had been chasing all day long.

“No! Johnny-bobs, that’s not the real bloody pup!” Charity shouted as she took off running after him. Vanessa shook her head at the sight, before settling herself down next to Noah, Moses and the new family pet.

AO3 Link 

[bangtaninink]

Can you please write a Vampire!Seokjin AU oh my god I'm literally in need of some new Jin smut that's filled with filth (because I doubt he's as innocent as he puts out 👀)

another anon request: Hello! Can I just say that your writing is absutely superb?! I’m so happy that you’ve made past Jin scenarios/fics (we Jin stans seriously lack wonderful scenarios/stories *cries*). That being said – may I please request a smut fic for the continuation of that BTS vampire!Jin fic AU? I’m dying to know what happens next! Thank you very much!

To Oblivion And Back

Summary: going back to how things used to be isn’t easy, but it’s damn well worth the effort (vampire!au)

Notes: bet y’all thought I forgot about this! (I did. Lowkey. And then I found it in my drafts and wrote like a madman because who doesn’t love vampire!Seokjin? Apologies to the peeps that requested this for taking so long!) I got carried away with this. Like very carried away. When you open that ‘read more’ cut, you’ll see what I mean. Also this is for the anon who was requesting vampire!Jin angst an eternity ago (although I’m not sure how angsty this is).

This is a continuation from this piece right here.

“You guys… got a dog?”

“Yeah. Actually, we’ve had a few dogs over the last couple of centuries. Taehyung hyung seems to like them a lot,” Jeongguk says, crouching down to scratch the top of the dog’s head, smiling fondly at it. “His name is Cat.”

“You named your dog Cat?” you ask, arching your brow.

“It was Taehyung hyung’s idea. We take turns every couple years to choose a dog and a name for it.”

“That is so… Taehyung.”

“Be glad you weren’t there the last time it was his turn.”

“Why?” Jeongguk turns to look at you over his shoulder, and the look on his face is enough for you. “Never mind. I probably don’t wanna know.”

Somewhere in the distance, someone calls Jeongguk’s name, and the both of you turn towards the doors, watching as they eventually open and let Namjoon in.

“Jeongguk.”

“Yeah, hyung?”

“Jin hyung’s looking for you. He said something about you and Jimin getting supplies.” Jungkook groans loudly, standing up and dusting off his knees.

“Again? I’m always on supply duty. No fair. Why can’t Yoongi hyung do it?” he whines.

“If you can find a way to get that particular brother out of his room for something that isn’t feeding or playing the piano, then I will personally offer you my share of food for a week.”

“Ooh. Challenge accepted,” Jeongguk replies, grinning as he runs out of the room. You and Namjoon watch as he disappears out of sight, shaking your heads and chuckling at the youngest’s antics.

“He hasn’t changed a bit,” you say, crouching down to scratch the back of Cat’s ears, just as Jeongguk had been doing.

“Not at all,” Namjoon agrees, sliding his hands into his pocket. “I used to hate the fact that he was turned at such a young age. Now I feel as if it’s not such a bad thing. He’s a breath of fresh air that one, despite all that he’s seen and been through with us.” You hum in agreement, standing back up.

“How’re you doing?” you ask.

“Good. Better. It’s almost as if I’d never been gone. Almost.” You laugh and nod. “And you? How are you doing?”

“I’m…” You pause to find the right words. “I’m fine, actually. I’d prepared myself for the worst before returning here. Seokjin is not the most predictable man out there, after all.” Namjoon hums quietly, walking over to the shelves, fingers running over the spines of dust-covered books. “It’s a slow process, but we’ve progressed more than I’d been expecting. Consider me pleasantly surprised.”

For a moment, a blanket of silence falls over you both, and while Namjoon is busy looking at the new books the family has collected in his absence, you watch Cat sniff curiously at your feet.

“It may not be my place to ask,” Namjoon says, voice cutting through the quiet. “But what did you do for my brothers to distrust you so much all those centuries ago, enough for them to make you leave the house of all things?” You pull your eyes away from the dog jumping up to nip at the hem of your skirt to look at Namjoon, who is already looking right at you, waiting patiently for your reply. “Or… would you rather not say?”

You make your way over to the arm chair by the window, Cat following right behind you and jumping onto your lap as soon as you’re seated.

“I… said things. Did things,” you reply, avoiding Namjoon’s eyes.

“Such as?”

“Namjoon… I’m sorry. I’d rather leave the past in the past. Recalling four centuries of betrayal and disloyalty is not very pleasant.”

“Of course. I understand. I still have visions about the things that happened back there.” You’re busy trying to distract yourself by staring down at Cat’s fur when Namjoon walks over to you, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Regardless of what you did, noona, I want to thank you anyway, because it was completely selfless and brave of you to do all that to bring me back to my family.” You look up, and come face to face with Namjoon’s kind and warm smile. “I owe you my life.”

Quiet chatter fills the library, and soft music in the air as Yoongi sits at the piano at the other end of the room, fingers flitting over the keys with practiced ease. Cat seems to have taken a liking to you, chasing after your feet as soon as you’re in sight, and today is no exception. He’s curled up at your feet, body wrapped around your ankle where you’re seated, flipping the pages of a new addition to the family’s collection.

“We haven’t really added much,” Jimin admits as he sits down on the sofa next to you, careful not to knock over the lit candles on the table beside him. “Namjoon hyung’s always been the one to bring in more books.”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling softly. “Actually, I’m surprised you added any in the first place.”

“It was mostly me and Seokjin hyung. Yoongi hyung added a few music books here and there. But Jeongguk and Taehyung recently got into these things called… manhwa? They’re this century’s picture books essentially.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard of those.”

“They call it the ‘best of both worlds’ because, technically, they’re reading, but it doesn’t feel like it.” You chuckle quietly as Jimin rolls his eyes. “Children.”

Shutting the book in your hands, you stand to turn to the shelf behind you and return it to its place, rousing Cat from his nap. Your eyes scan the spines of the books, Cat trailing after you as you wander up and down along the walls of the library, in search of your next read. So absorbed in the myriad of titles, your shoulder collides with Seokjin’s suddenly as he wanders along the wall too in the opposite direction.

“Oh. Pardon me, _____,” he says, offering you a small, tight-lipped smile; you shake your head dismissively in return. Continuing on your way, you don’t notice the way Seokjin’s gaze follows after you, watching as you walk to the other wall, lingering at one shelf before moving on to the next.

“Hyung?” Seokjin’s attention shifts to Jeongguk, who stands beside him, one hand on the elder’s arm, the other clutching an open book. “Hyung, what does this word mean?”

Seokjin reads the word off of the page where Jeongguk points: rambunctious.

“That’s like… noisy and undisciplined. Kind of wild and uncontrollable,” Seokjin explains. “Kind of like you and Taehyung, and how you’re both all over the place.” Jeongguk scoffs and scrunches up his nose, while the elder grins proudly.

“I should’ve asked noona,” Jeongguk mumbles, walking away to drop himself back onto the couch next to Taehyung.

The words leave an acrid taste in your mouth the moment you’ve said them. A sharp pain twinges in your chest that you so desperately try to ignore when you watch everyone’s faces shift from expressions of surprise to betrayal in very little time, and hurts even more to know that you are the reason for it.

“What did you just say?” Seokjin asks.

“You heard me,” you reply, maintaining your composure and resisting the urge to cower, take everything you’ve said back and apologise.

“After everything we’ve done for you…”

“Everything you’ve done for me? Please! You and your family have done nothing but made me miserable. All this whining and moping about Namjoon. Just face it. He’s gone. He’s not coming back. You’ve lost a brother. We’ve all lost someone, Seokjin. That’s just the way things are. So suck it up and move on for God’s sake.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Yoongi shakes his head, looking at you, confused.

“What… what’s gotten into you, noona?” he asks. “This isn’t like you.”

“No, Yoongi. This is me. What you’ve been seeing for the last five centuries has been me pretending to be grateful for your family’s hospitality. But I’m not. I’ve realised now that I would’ve been more than fine on my own. You didn’t have to go and rescue me all those centuries ago. I wouldn’t have wasted five centuries here with the lot of you if you hadn’t.”

You can see the way Seokjin’s jaw tenses as he clenches and unclenches his teeth at all the spite that oozes out of you.

“But… we’ve done so much for you,” Hoseok argues.

“No. I’ve done so much for you,” you correct. “I’ve done more than my fair share of shit around this place without a word of thanks. Well, I’m sick of it. I’m tired of you six wandering around this castle hopelessly just because one of your brothers has gone. I’m tired of having to think of ways to cheer you six up like some kind of jester to take your mind off of things. Just face it. He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

When Seokjin speaks, a chill runs down your spine at the tone of his voice, and you try not to visibly shiver.

“You know, I tried so hard to ignore it. I tried so hard to think nothing of the way you’d always wander out of the castle whenever you wanted, going God knows where and not returning until minutes before dawn. I thought I’d gone mental when I saw you in town with Hyunwoo.” Ears perk up and eyebrows raise at the name.

“Hyunwoo?” Taehyung repeats. “As in…”

“As in Hyunwoo from the western village, yes,” Seokjin finishes.

“Hyung, you said never to–”

“I know what I said. But, clearly, _____ has forgotten.”

“Those guys are vile, self-absorbed animals with absolutely no remorse or pity for anyone that isn’t in their clan,” Yoongi says. “What are you doing with Hyunwoo, noona?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Clearly, I’ve found a more accomodating clan, one that’ll actually make me feel like one of their own, and not some fucking maid.”

“B-but… noona, you said…” Jimin says, stammering. “You said you’d help us find Namjoon hyung no matter what.”

You shrug.

“Namjoon’s not worth finding, Jimin.”

As if you’d just swung at them all, the six of them take a step back at your comment, speechless. The looks of disbelief you’re met with are hard to look at, but you steel yourself, and force yourself to maintain eye contact with Seokjin.

It feels as if a whole century passes before anyone says anything.

“Get out,” Seokjin spits. “And never come back.”

“Everyone! Your attention, please!”

Hyunwoo’s words ring out over the loud raucous, and the chatter dies down to almost complete silence at the clan leader’s voice.

“Tonight is a night of celebration,” he says, grinning proudly. “Because tonight, we welcome a new addition to our little family. An alluring, beautiful addition, I must say.” He wraps his arm around your waist, and you pretend you don’t want to run away from his touch immediately, like you don’t have the urge to cringe. “How fortunate that little ol’ me was able to convince her to leave that stupid little family she’d been holed up with for five centuries.” The crowd boos at the mention of another clan; Hyunwoo nods in agreement, but waves his other hand to quiet them down before reaching for his glass. “A toast: to our clan, the strongest, most indestructible group of brothers and sisters this century will ever have the pleasure of being destroyed by.”

Whoops of agreement and joy fill the air as glasses are raised in celebration before flutes of blood are downed to the last drop. You do the same, with a tight-lipped smile as you turn to look at Hyunwoo. He winks and brings his flute to his lips with a proud grin.

Dinner is quieter than it ever has been in centuries.

Jeongguk stares down at his goblet, unable to find the energy to reach out and take a sip, eyes boring holes in the gold trimming and the reflection of the fireplace against the glass.

Yoongi sits slumped in his chair, not bothering to look up at anyone, much less his own goblet, cradling his head in his hand, elbow resting on the arm rest of his chair. He clenches his teeth at the incessant scratching of Taehyung’s nails against the edge of the wood of the table, the sound grating in his ears, quickly turning into an annoyance that leaves him with the urge to reach over the table and grab his brother by the lapels of his coat and shake the life out of him.

Jimin and Hoseok take turns heaving out quiet sighs, chewing at their lips and looking everywhere but at the people seated at the table, unsure of what to do or say.

Only Seokjin, seated at the head of the table, sips at his goblet of blood periodically, staring at the fire with no emotion present on his face.

“And finally, our dungeon,” Hyunwoo announces proudly, waving his arm in front of him, as if displaying a collection of fine jewellery. “I quite like coming down here on days I’m not feeling so confident about things.”

“So… never,” you offer with a quiet chuckle; he replies with hearty laughter, pulling you closer to his side.

“Well. I will admit those days are far and few, _____. But even someone such as myself has their off days.”

“That’s quite hard to believe.”

Hyunwoo grins and leads you down the stairs. The air in the dungeon is cold, stale and wet, and you hear the heels of your boots squelch with every step. You try not to grimace at the stench, and certainly try not to think about what could have caused the stench in the first place.

“It’s not the most pleasant room in the castle,” Hyunwoo says. “But it’s a morale booster for people like me, especially when you take in the sheer number of prisoners we have locked up down here.”

“How many are there?” you ask.

“About eight dozen. We’re aiming for double that by the end of the century.”

“Impressive.”

“Here. Let me take you to one of the prisoners.” Strange sounds fill the air as you pass cell after cell, the sound of rattling chains almost drowned out by the cacophony of strangled moans and wails coming from trapped prisoners. “Here we are.”

Hyunwoo nods at one of the guards standing by, and you watch as he take the keychain attached to his belt, metal colliding against metal as he searches through the keys to find the one that unlocks the cell in front of you. The iron scratches and squeals against the railing on the ground as the guard opens up the cell, stepping aside to allow you and Hyunwoo to step inside.

Your body tenses a little at the sight in front of you.

“A familiar face, no?” Hyunwoo asks, chuckling, kicking at a puddle of water in front of him. Drops of water splash against Namjoon’s face, rousing him to consciousness. You remain stoic as he lifts his head from where he kneels, chains keeping his arms hanging above him, eyes squinting as he tries to register what he sees in front of him.

“N-noona?” he whispers, eyes growing wide when he recognises you.

“Scum,” Hyunwoo spits, stepping forward to bring his hand down across Namjoon’s cheek, the sound of the slap making you flinch a little where you stand. The chains rattle at the impact as Namjoon jostles around. You say nothing, taking in how thin and frail he looks, hair frazzled and messy as he winces at the sting. “You ought to think twice about opening your mouth in front of me.” As if nothing had happened, Hyunwoo is back at your side with a smile, his arm wrapping around your waist once again. “How in God’s name did you stand to live with this one and his family for so long, _____?”

Namjoon lifts his head once more to look at you, and the look in his eyes makes you want to fall to your knees and weep.

Instead, you shrug, and wrap your own arm around Hyunwoo’s waist, turning the both of you to walk out of the cell.

“No idea.”

You stare up at the ceiling, silent as Hyunwoo snores away beside you, his arm heavy on your stomach. The curtains haven’t been closed completely shut, and a tiny sliver of sunlight makes its way into the room just a few feet away from the foot of the bed. Your mind reels, the image of Namjoon chained to the stone walls ingrained in your brain, and it takes so much self control not to run out of the room and down to the dungeon once again to see him.

In the almost-silence, you’re left wondering if this was the best way to go about things, if betraying an entire family to find and rescue their lost brother was the best decision. You could have easily stayed with them, told them about your first encounter with Hyunwoo, and how each successive encounter with him eventually led to you find out about Namjoon’s whereabouts. You could have easily stayed to plan something out with them, because seven would be stronger than just one. 

But in the back of your mind, you know that it would have never worked, because between Hoseok’s impulsiveness and Yoongi’s overthinking, the family would either not have gotten anywhere, or would have gone too far and lost even more brothers.

Even if you despise Hyunwoo, this is the way it has to be in order to bring the family back together.

A knock at the door pulls Seokjin’s focus away from the newspaper clippings and print-outs on his desk.

“Come in,” he calls out.

Jimin steps into Seokjin’s study, pulling at the ends of his sleeves to almost completely cover his hands after shutting the door behind him. With hesitation in every step, he walks over to sit down in the armchair directly in front of Seokjin, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Hi, hyung,” he says, voice soft.

“Hello,” Seokjin replies, smiling a little before looking back down at the scraps of paper in front of him. “What brings you in here?”

Jimin is quiet, and for a moment, Seokjin doesn’t seem to notice that he hasn’t been given a reply. Distracted, he sorts through the paper covering his desk, looking for any kind of hint or sign of where his brother might be.

“Hyung.”

“Mmm?” Seokjin hums, not even looking up to meet Jimin’s eyes.

“Hyung, what if… do you ever wonder if… i-if noona was right?” Seokjin freezes, a clipping from last week’s newspaper held between his fingers as the room is shrouded in a cloak of silence. “It’s… i-it’s been a century and a half. What if we’ve been wasting our t–”

“Don’t, Jimin,” Seokjin interrupts, hands slowly starting to ball up into fists. “Don’t you dare. This is our brother we’re talking about, understand?”

“I know. I know, hyung. But, noona… she…”

“She was wrong. I don’t know what’d gotten into her that day, but she was wrong – she is wrong. We’re gonna find Namjoon, with or without her help.”

Hesitant, Jimin tugs at the sleeves of his sweater again, too nervous to look Seokjin in the eye when the tension is thick in the air. He can feel the elder’s frustration radiating off of him, slapping him in the face without warning, and Jimin takes this as his cue to go.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay, hyung. We’ll find him.”

“We’ll find him,” Seokjin replies, no longer able to read the words on the clipping in his grasp through the tears welling up in his eyes.

Namjoon hears the clicking of heels against the cement ground growing louder and louder, until eventually, they come to a complete stop. He hears quiet murmurs of incoherent words, recognises the two voices, but says nothing. The metal door of his cell makes a grating screech against the railing as it’s pulled open, and he still keeps his head down.

“Namjoon.”

That voice has his mind reeling and a strange combination of emotions stirring in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know what to do or how to react.

“Namjoon, it’s me.”

Slowly, you crouch down in front of him, reaching out to cup his cheek. Unexpectedly, he turns his head away, and avoids looking at you as best as he can while he’s still chained to the wall.

“Namjoon. It’s me,” you repeat, trying not to sound as desperate as you feel.

“Is it?” he asks, voice raspy and hoarse. “Because you’re not exactly the _____ noona I remember.”

“I know.”

It’s quiet for a moment, with just the distant sounds of more chains rattling and more screaming to keep you both company. Namjoon is the first to speak after the silence.

“What do you want?”

Warily, you look over your shoulder, making sure the guard has left like you’d asked him to, making sure that you and Namjoon are completely alone.

“I’m getting you out of here,” you say.

At this, Namjoon does lift his head to look at you, albeit slowly. He sees the determination in your eyes, the promise engrained in between your words, and for a moment, his doubt wavers, all of a sudden convinced that his old _____ noona had never left.

“What?”

“I’m getting you out of here,” you repeat, reaching into the neckline of your dress to pull out a flask you’d tucked away, shuffling closer to Namjoon as you unscrew the cap. “I apologise for taking so long, but you have to understand that I couldn’t rush this. I had to take my time, make sure that Hyunwoo had no reason to doubt or suspect me of anything.”

Namjoon is quick to wrap his lips around the lip of the flask, tilting his head back to gulp down mouthfuls of blood like the literal starved man he was. It’s not enough, you know it’s not enough, but it’ll do for now. You card your fingers through his sweat-soaked fringe as he sighs and pants, letting him rest his head in your palm as you support him.

“I’m so hungry, noona,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you rub circles on his temple.

“I know, Namjoon. I’ll come down to visit you more regularly from here, now that Hyunwoo’s out of town.”

His eyes open again slowly, and he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What do y– we’re not leaving now? Tonight?”

“We can’t, Namjoon. Not yet,” you reply with a small shake of your head. “Hyunwoo left just after twilight. He’s not far enough yet. We need to wait a little longer. You can do that for me, can’t you? We’ve already gotten this far.” Namjoon sighs.

“How long?”

“Two more days. Just two more days and I’ll get you out of here. I’ll bring you back to your brothers.”

Namjoon swallows thickly, feeling his throat start to tighten a little at the mention of his family. He blinks away the dampness that’s starting to form in his eyes, and nods.

“Yeah, noona. I can wait,” he says. “It’s been four centuries. What’s another two days?”

For the most part, Minjae leaves you be, lets you wander the castle without supervision because, frankly, he has more important things to do than to keep an eye on you when all you do is sit in the library and read. As Hyunwoo’s second-in-command, he’d raised no complaints to your addition to the clan for fear of losing his rank, though he had been anything but approving of the leader’s decision. Now, after four centuries, he maintains his doubts, but ignores them in favour of saving his time to do more important things than worry about Hyunwoo’s new companion.

He’d heard about you (almost everyone had), and about your family’s nobility pre-vampirism, the closest the country had to royalty all those centuries ago. He’d heard of your family’s downfall, of the massacre that had consumed everyone but yourself in some stroke of fate, and later, of your salvation. It was no surprise for Minjae to learn of Hyunwoo’s desire to find you, his leader always so greedy and hungry for nothing but the best – and you, (un)fortunately, were the best.

Minjae passes the open doors of the library during his routine inspection of the castle, and isn’t surprised to find you already sitting in the velvet-lined armchair. What he is surprised about is the way you call for his attention.

“Minjae?” you say, peering over the book in your hand. “A word, if you have a moment.”

The wood creaks as he pushes the door open a little further to step inside, the heels of his boots clicking against the wooden floorboards.

“Yes?”

“May I ask, how old is this castle?”

Minjae arches an eyebrow, but answers nevertheless.

“Master Hyunwoo dates it around the thirteenth century. It’s been in his family since the sixteenth century. Why do you ask?”

You shrug, and lower your eyes back down to the book in your hands.

“No reason in particular.” You can tell Minjae is unconvinced, and you chuckle softly, turning the page. “There are a lot of books in here about architecture. I suppose it just never occurred to me to ask Hyunwoo about it until now.”

“I’m sure Master Hyunwoo would be more than happy to discuss the castle’s origins with you in more detail when he returns on the twelfth.” You glance up at him, and watch as he adjusts his sleeves and lapels of his suit jacket. “Will that be all, _____?”

“Yes. Thank you, Minjae. Don’t let me take up anymore of your time.”

“It would be wise for you to consider heading back to your room soon. Sunrise is just four hours away.”

“Namjoon? Namjoon.”

Chains rattle as Namjoon stirs at the sound of your quiet whispers, and he watches as you take extra care in opening his cell door, careful not to make too much noise. You leave just enough space for yourself to step through, clutching the knapsack in your arms close to your chest.

“Noona?” he whispers back. You shush him quietly, and drop to your knees in front of him, putting the knapsack down by your side. “Is it time? Are we leaving now?”

“Yes.”

It’s as if four centuries of fatigue dissipate from his body at the single word, and his chains rattle again as he suddenly becomes alert. He watches as you reach into your dress and pull out a key, standing to unlock his wrists, holding your arms out to catch him as he stumbles.

“Christ almighty,” he sighs, leaning against you as the ache in his arms and shoulders becomes all too apparent all of a sudden.

“I’m afraid we cannot waste any time, Namjoon,” you say, reaching into the knapsack to pull out a bottle much larger than the vials and flasks you’d been secretly feeding him before. “Drink this – all of it. You’re going to need your strength.”

Namjoon has no complaints, and wastes no time in taking the bottle from you, uncorking the top and downing almost half without a breath. You wait for him to finish every drop of blood in the bottle before you’re reaching into the knapsack again, pulling out a pile of freshly pressed clothing and thrusting it into his arms.

“Get dressed. Quick as you can. Hurry. We don’t have much time. Sunrise is approaching.”

You can feel Namjoon’s breaths grazing against your ear as you both stand still, backs pressed to the cold stone walls of the castle. This is now or never, and you both know it.

“There’s a cave,” you whisper. “Just a mile down that path between the oaks. If we’re quick, we’ll make it before the sun rises. From there, we can wait ‘til tomorrow’s twilight to move again. The city centre is just less than fifty miles from there. We can get there on foot in two days, less if we’re quick. Once we get to the city centre, we’ll be able to find safe passage.”

“How do you know all this, noona?” Namjoon asks, eyes shifting left and right warily.

“I spent the last four centuries turning Hyunwoo’s library inside and out ever since I found out he came from a family of cartographers. Fortunately for us, he seems to have inherited his family’s love of maps and collects them, and continues to update his collection with more accurate ones that detail new routes and paths he and his clan can take. It seems he uses his highly accurate maps to find discreet ways to approach those small towns and villages and ambush them.”

“Do you remember everything? Where we have to go?”

“I have them with me,” you reply, pointing towards the knapsack to emphasise your point. “All of Hyunwoo’s maps from the last quarter-century are on my back right now. He keeps them hidden away in a chamber in his study, and he never takes them with him when he travels, just in case he, by some off chance, encounters some kind of problem. He won’t risk having his maps stolen from him and give his enemy the upper hand.”

“So how does he know where to go?”

“He studies his maps about a week and a half in advance before he plans to travel, locks himself away in his study for hours on end to memorise different routes he can lead his men through.”

“And… how did you get the maps, noona?”

With pursed lips, you turn to look at Namjoon over your shoulder, biting the inside of your cheek.

“That’s not important right now, Namjoon. What matters is that I get you back home.”

“Did you hear?” Hoseok says, looking around the table. “One of the villages in Ulsan was attacked last night. Gosan, I think it was.”

“Attacked?” Taehyung repeats. “By who?”

“Tch. Who else?” Yoongi mutters, picking at the chipped varnish on the edge of the table.

“That’s the furthest Hyunwoo’s ever gone,” Jeongguk says, eyebrows furrowed. “What is he trying to do, destroy the entire country?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jimin replies, sighing and leaning back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking deeper into the cushions. “He’s a greedy motherf–”

“Language, Jimin.”

All eyes turn to Seokjin, who doesn’t take his gaze away from the fire, licks of orange and yellow reflected in his pupils. His goblet of blood remains completely untouched, rested on the arm of his chair as he damn near stares at the fire without blinking once.

“Um… hyung?” Jeongguk asks, voice soft and full of hesitation. Seokjin doesn’t answer, but Jungkook continues anyway. “What’re we gonna do?”

“What do you mean by that, Jeongguk?”

“Hyung, it’s… it’s been four centuries. Four hundred years. All we’ve done is sit here and mope.”

“Jeongguk…” Hoseok warns, watching Seokjin’s jaw tense up.

“We’ve done nothing,” Jeongguk continues, clearly growing frustrated as he stands, hands slamming down onto the table. “We did no searching, no running around town asking if anyone’s seen Namjoon hyung or heard of anything. We’ve barely left the house since he’s disappeared, and look what we’re doing now: just sitting around the table twiddling our thumbs.”

“Jeongguk, stop,” Jimin says, but his voice is too quiet to be heard over Jeongguk.

“Hyung’s gone. Noona’s gone. If we’re not gonna do anything, we might as well go stand out in the sun and crisp up like some fucking fried chicken.”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” Seokjin says, rising to his feet. “Sit your fucking ass d–”

“He’s right,” Yoongi interjects. The whole room turns towards Yoongi, who’s straightened up in his seat, hands resting in his lap.

“What did you say?”

“I said, Jeongguk’s right, hyung. And you know it.” Eyes shift from the elder to the second-in-command back and forth, tension growing in the air with each passing silent second.

“Hyung,” Taehyung says, voice sounding strangled and strained.

“I know it’s the last thing you want to be hearing out loud,” Yoongi continues, rising to his feet calmly. “But this might be it from now on: the six of us, for the rest of our existence. They might come back; they might not. We have no way of knowing. Wouldn’t it just be easier to accept that they’re not here anymore? Save yourself the turmoil, hyung. You can’t spend the rest of eternity looking for something that can’t or doesn’t want to be found.” With slow but resolute steps, Yoongi makes his way over to where Seokjin stands with his head hanging low, resting a hand on the elder’s shoulder. “Hyung.”

Without warning, Seokjin falls back into his seat, hiding his face in his hands as sobs start to spill from his lips, shoulders trembling under Yoongi’s touch. The sound of Seokjin’s crying echoes throughout the room, his brothers quick to push away their chairs and join him at the head of the table, arms overlapping Yoongi’s as he leans down to hug Seokjin. At the elder’s feet, Jeongguk furiously wipes at his cheeks, face crumpled in anguish as reality finally starts to dawn on them all: this could be it.

The cave is cold, the stone walls damp with condensation. You and Namjoon have tucked yourselves away in the deepest part, careful to avoid the sunlight as the sun begins to rise, filling half of the cave before it’s even fully risen. Namjoon is panting quietly beside you, head resting on your shoulder as fatigue starts to set in, not used to expelling so much energy anymore. You drop your knapsack down at your side to wrap your arms around him, helping him settle into your side comfortably and catch his breath.

“Alright?” you ask. He nods his head once in confirmation with a soft sigh. “Get some sleep, Namjoon. I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”

“What about you?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m fine.”

“You are now, noona. What about later?” You chuckle quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” you reply, carding your fingers through his hair. “Just get some rest.”

Seokjin watches as the tiny sliver of sunlight that peeks through a distant gap in the curtains starts to fade away, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling as his room gradually begins to grow dark. He hasn’t been counting, but it’s been four centuries, three years, six months and seventeen days since Namjoon’s been missing, and four centuries, one month and twenty six days since you left. It’s been agony, slow and painful torture to watch his family crumble before his very eyes, and he’s spent so long trying to pick up the pieces, remould them, and bring it back together again.

He tries not to think about you. He tries not to let his mind wander when everyone is seated at the table, and there are two very obvious vacant seats. He tries not to dwell on the thought that his bed seems too big for him, and that he’s no longer fighting anyone for the sheets. Seokjin doesn’t allow his mind to wander to the ‘what ifs’, but when he’s left alone to simmer in his thoughts, he can’t help but wonder if he’s being delusional thinking he can still smell you on his pillows.

With a sigh, Seokjin rolls over and sits up, rubbing the fatigue from his face with his hands. It’s hell on Earth, knowing that every day he wakes up without a new lead on his brother’s whereabouts is a waste. It’s admirable, though, his perseverance, he thinks, that after four centuries he has still not given up hope. Still, Yoongi’s words continue to ring in his ears, and since that night, Seokjin has wondered if it’s time to give the hunt up, to let things be. 

The near silent house starts to become filled with noise as he gets dressed, and he can hear the tell-tale shuffling of Yoongi’s feet against the hardwood floors outside, on his way to the library to start playing his piano as he always does upon waking. He’s just managed to slide his slippers onto his feet when he hears the distinct sound of glass shattering somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, followed by the poorly hushed voices of Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk. Despite himself, Seokjin chuckles quietly, and leaves his room.

“Namjoon? Are you okay?”

“Huh?” You watch as Namjoon blinks, as if pulled out of a trance, turning to look at you. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine, noona. It’s just… it’s nice.”

You hum, understanding.

“It’s been four centuries. A lot has changed, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. And yet, at the same time, the city’s exactly the same. It’s astounding.”

The both of you chuckle, watching as clusters of people rush right past you both. It’s as if the both of you are invisible, the way people pay no mind to you standing by.

“We should get you something to drink,” you say, holding onto Namjoon’s sleeve. “Come. There’s a nice cafe just a few blocks from here.”

“Hello?” Jimin frantically waves a hand in front of Taehyung’s face, who is currently zoned out at the dining table. “Tae? Hello?”

“What, Chim?” Taehyung says, deadpan.

“Wow. What happened to you?”

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s a first,” Yoongi scoffs, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Shut up, hyung. This is big.”

“How big?” Jimin asks, eyebrows furrowed. “Like, ‘I nearly dropped that figurine that Hoseok hyung pretends he doesn’t like that much but secretly loves it’ big, or ‘I nearly scratched Yoongi hyung’s piano playing with Jeongguk’s new remote-controlled car’ big?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Bigger,” he replies.

“What could be bigger than you almost damaging my baby?” Yoongi asks, frowning.

Jimin’s confusion grows when Taehyung sighs, scratching his head and slouching in his seat.

“I think… call me crazy, but… I think I saw Namjoon hyung yesterday.”

Yoongi freezes, mid-page turn.

“You what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a hundred percent certain I did. I don’t know if I was hallucinating because it was almost sunrise, or if it was because I drank some bad blood, but… it really looked like him. A-and _____ noona. I think.”

The three of them exchange looks silently.

“Where?” Jimin asks.

“The city centre. I was waiting for Jeongguk outside that cool animal cafe that just opened up.”

“Have you told Seokjin hyung about this?” Yoongi asks, sitting up and putting his newspaper down. Taehyung shakes his head.

“I don’t even know if I really did see him. I don’t want to get his hopes up. You know how hyung’s been over the last four centuries.”

It’s quiet in the library, and somewhere in the distance, they can hear the tapping of Cat’s claws out in the hallway as he trails after Jeongguk.

“Jesus,” Jimin mutters. “Jesus, hyung. Could you imagine? If Taehyung really did see Joonie hyung? Four centuries later?”

“Don’t say a word of this to Seokjin hyung,” Yoongi cuts in, jaw tense.

“What? Why n–”

“Jimin, don’t. At least not until we get some more information, or some kind of confirmation that Taehyung really saw what he saw.”

“He’s right,” Taehyung agrees. “We can’t give this house false hope – we can’t give Seokjin hyung any false hope.”

“Right.”

“Four centuries,” Jimin repeats, sighing and sitting back. “Four centuries of nothing, and then all of a sudden, there’s a possibility he just… appears like that…”

“Taehyung, try not to buy anything that isn’t a necessity this time, please,” Seokjin says, handing Taehyung money with a warning look.

“I mean, I can’t guarantee anything, hyung. The latest edition of me and Jeongguk’s favourite manhwa just came out a couple days ago,” Taehyung replies, smiling innocently.

“Hyung, if you come back without it, you’re dead to me,” Jeongguk says, poking his head out from behind Seokjin.

“Technically, we’re all dead, so…” Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “But, you got it, bro.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Everyone’s heads turn towards the door where Yoongi steps out of the library, buttoning up his coat, eyebrows rising with surprise.

“This is a first,” Seokjin says, chuckling softly. Yoongi shrugs.

“I’m uninspired. Figured a nice walk would clear my head a little,” he says, casting a brief look towards Taehyung.

“Well. I’m not going to argue with that. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you out of the house for the last century already. Taehyung could use an extra pair of hands. I heard from Mr. Yang that he almost dropped an entire week’s supply last month.”

“In my defence,” Taehyung cuts in. “There was a really cute dog that walked past the store.”

“That’s some weak defence, hyung,” Jeongguk snickers.

“Keep an eye on him,” Seokjin says quietly to Yoongi.

“Of course, hyung.”

It’s a quiet walk to the city centre, a heavy blanket of tension and anticipation hanging over Yoongi and Taehyung. Questions rest on the tip of Taehyung’s tongue, desperate to cut through the silence between them, but he holds back, knowing that one look at the elder’s face is enough to tell him that he’s deep in thought. It’s no secret why Yoongi had decided to accompany him, and there’s a part of Taehyung that’s relieved to have him of all people at his side – as the most rational thinker in the house, if anyone can confirm or deny Taehyung’s claims, it’s Yoongi.

It’s as busy as ever in the city centre, waves of people coming and going quicker than Yoongi can keep up with. He pays no mind to anyone else, however, eyes sharp and on the look out. He knows what he’d told Taehyung and Jimin, that to instil false hope on the house could potentially be more damaging to the family than ever before, but intuition tells him that there might be some truth to Taehyung’s story.

The supply pick-up is quick, as standard as ever, with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Yoongi barely bats a lash at the way the case of the coven’s monthly blood supply is thrust into his arms before Taehyung is running into the bookstore, returning with significantly less change and a brand new book in his hands. Taehyung, too, makes no complaints when Yoongi stops them at a nearby cafe for a little while, under the guise that he was not used to so much walking anymore.

Taehyung jokes about Yoongi’s age, and the elder doesn’t even have the heart to reprimand him – in fact, he chuckles a little at the jab.

Nothing happens. Dawn begins to approach, and, defeated, Yoongi and Taehyung realise that to stay out any longer is futile. The walk back home is just as quiet as ever, Yoongi having to pull Taehyung out of the way of approaching bicycles and cars here and there as the younger gets a head start on the manhwa over Jeongguk.

“Taehyung, put that down, please,” Yoongi says, sighing as he bows apologetically once more to the driver of a passing car. “Can’t you wait until we’re home? We’re only a block away. Watch where you’re w–”

Confused by Yoongi abrupt halt, Taehyung looks up from the page, confused by the look on the elder’s face.

Until he follows his line of sight.

The book falls to the dirt-covered ground, the case of blood following suit.

Namjoon chuckles softly at the expressions on his brothers’ faces. It’s a tired sound, but filled with relief. In any other situation, you’d find the whole thing emotional, but with dawn approaching, with Namjoon and yourself in need of a feed, you can’t find yourself feeling anything but anxious.

“Please tell me that’s blood in there,” you say, eyeing the case at Yoongi’s feet. Taehyung scrambles at lightning speed to step into action, albeit with shaking hands, to unlock the case and grab two bags of blood, running over to where Namjoon and yourself stand, Namjoon’s arm draped over your shoulders as you help support his weight. “Yoongi. A hand, please.”

Yoongi is at Namjoon’s other side before you can even finish, draping his other arm across his shoulders.

“I new it,” Taehyung mutters, voice wavering as he helps Namjoon drink, eyes already damp. “I k-knew I saw you two.”

“You should’ve said hi then,” you joke quietly. Only Namjoon laughs.

You watch as he turns to Yoongi, nuzzling his nose against the side of the elder’s head.

“Long time no see, hyung.”

Jeongguk is hungry for blood pudding.

Determined steps take him to the second floor, headed towards you and Seokjin’s room, desperate for his older brother’s recipe book.

A firm hand stops him at the top of the stairs.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Hoseok says, a grim look on his face.

“Wh– why not, hyung?” Jeongguk asks, frowning. “I just wanted to ask Jin hyung for his recipe book.”

“Trust me, Jeongguk. Not right now.” Hoseok continues before Jeongguk can protest any more. “Noona’s in there too.” Hoseok watches the younger’s face morph into one of pure realisation.

“Oh, gross!”

“Yep.”

“Damn it. I’m hungry though. I really want some blood pudding, but it’s too late to go to the city and buy some from Mrs. Lee.”

“Damn. Blood pudding sounds pretty good right now. But you won’t be able to ask for that recipe book until tomorrow by the sounds of things,” Hoseok says, draping an arm across Jeongguk’s shoulders, leading the younger back downstairs.

“Do you know how to make blood pudding?”

“Google exists for a reason, doesn’t it?”

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” you reply, grinning.

“You’re treading a very fine line right now,” Seokjin says, jaw tense. You chuckle.

“Oh? What’s on either side of the line, honey?”

He glances down, and swallows hard at the sight of you, with your hair tussled, lipstick slightly smudged, dressed in nothing but one of his silk shirts.

“My self control, and my lack of,” he replies, swallowing thickly. You hum softly, sitting up to situate yourself on his hips, hands smoothing down his bare chest, fingers curling just slightly to drag your nails along his skin. Seokjin inhales sharply at the slight tingle your nails leave in their wake.

“I think I know which side of the line I want you to be on,” you say, smiling sweetly.

“No you don’t,” he counters, taking hold of your wrists, holding them down on your thighs.

“Of course I do. Don’t you remember Venice?”

“God,” he groans, recalling the past. “Venice.”

“Didn’t you have a great time in Venice with me, darling? Because I had a fantastic time with you.”

You lean back down, lips brushing over the vein that protrudes from his neck, warm breath fanning over his skin. You watch Seokjin’s throat shift with another thick swallow, grinning as you press a kiss to his pulse.

“Well…”

Bingo. You know you’ve won.

“Since you mentioned Venice…”

You gasp when you feel your bodies being flipped over, laughing breathlessly when your head hits the pillow, Seokjin hovering over you with a giddy smile.

“I miss Venice,” he says, peppering kisses all over your face, making you giggle at how ticklish it all feels. “We should go again.”

“With or without your brothers?” you ask, gasping again when his tongue laves at your jaw.

“Without,” he replies immediately. You hum, holding back a smile.

“Wow. When did the great Kim Seokjin get so selfish?”

“Obviously being separated from you for four centuries did things to me, _____.”

“You big softie,” you coo.

“I am anything but right now, honey.”

“I can feel that. But you must’ve gotten slower in your old age, Jinnie. You’re taking an awfully long time to do anything.”

“You can’t just let me enjoy this?” he groans, frowning against your shoulder.

“But, Jinnie,” you whine. You hold back another grin when he sighs against your skin.

“I hate when you do that.”

“Why?”

“Makes me feel like I’ll say yes to anything you want.”

“You’d say yes even if I didn’t whine.”

“You know what? I hate that you know me so well, _____,” Seokjin says.

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah. No I d–” You cut him off before he can finish, tilting your head to press your lips to his, forcing him to lose his train of thought. It doesn’t take long for his grip on your wrists to loosen enough for you to be able to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close, the weight of his torso heavy on yours. 

The tip of your tongue brushes along his fangs, moaning at the way they graze against you before Seokjin is biting down gently on your bottom lip. He cradles your head in one hand, the other sliding down your chest and stomach. His lips move surprisingly slow for someone who’d been impatient not even a minute ago, tongue gently sliding against yours with a slight curl to coax it out, and you know that it won’t be long now before the tables will be turning and you will become the impatient one losing all your self control.

“Jinnie,” you moan, pushing your head back into the pillows, lips shiny and slick with spit, a beautiful shade of red that Seokjin spends a moment admiring. He looks down and holds back a groan, because the silk of his shirt on your frame does nothing to hide the curves and contours of your body, and he watches as your chest rises and falls underneath him.

Seokjin reaches up to unbutton the shirt agonisingly slow, and he grins silently at the way you squirm, fingertips touching every inch of your soft, supple skin as it’s exposed, because just as you’d suspected, you’ve now lost your ability to control your desire, restless beneath his gaze and touch as Seokjin takes his time in undressing you. A soft whimper bubbles in your throat, but he quiets you down with a kiss to your neck, teeth grazing along the goosebumps that rise in their wake, letting the whimper morph into a surprised gasp.

He takes a deep breath in, letting the scent of you intoxicate him and cloud his senses until all he can think about is you, and the way your body feels in his hold. Seokjin feels your legs wrap around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into the small of his back when you push your hips up to knock against his, hoping to signal your need for more.

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear, laughing lowly.

“I waited four centuries, darling,” you reply. “Haven’t I been patient enough?”

He hums quietly, pushing the silk off your body to fall at your side and expose you to the air of his room, watching you shiver a little. You watch Seokjin shuffle down, pressing kisses down your shoulder and collarbone, travelling lower until his mouth hovers over your breast. Your breaths are shaky when his fangs brush against your nipple, one hand squeezing your other breast, fingertips pushing dimples into your skin, and it’s all so much, but not enough.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Seokjin asks, words muttered against your nipple. “Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” you whine, back arching off the bed when his hips roll against yours. “Always you. Only you. Fuck, I want you, Jinnie. Please.”

You hear Seokjin groan, forehead resting in your cleavage, and then before you can even blink, he’s pushed himself down lower, lying in between your legs, already so close to your heat that you don’t have time to process anything quick enough.

“Only me?” he repeats, warm breath brushing against your skin.

“Only you,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

“I love you, _____.”

“I-I lo--”

He doesn’t let you finish, and everything seems to happen so much quicker after that. You barely have the time to recover from the way he pushes a finger into you, and then another, and then another, all while he sucks fervently on your clit and licks hungrily at your folds. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently and urging him on.

Seokjin seems to be just as -- if not, more -- impatient than you, not continuing on for more than a minute before he’s pushing himself up onto his knees, not taking his fingers out of you when he leans down to press his lips to yours, kissing you hungrily, urgently. You kick the sheets off the bed, moaning when Seokjin takes hold of you to sit you up, frantically tugging his silk shirt off your frame to leave you both completely naked.

“Turn around for me,” he whispers; you bite down on your lip, trying to not seem too excited by what’s to come as you scramble to get on your hands and knees in front of him.

A little shiver runs down your spine at the way his hand smooths down your back and down the curve of your ass, your eyes shutting involuntarily at his touch.

“God, you’re so beautiful, _____.”

Seokjin leans down, the warmth of his chest like fire on your skin, pressing kisses to your shoulders as he pushes into you. The both of you groan, and you throw your head back against his shoulder, lips parting as he mouths at your neck. 

Seokjin lets out a shaky breath when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, trying to maintain his composure but failing steadily, the way your walls clench around his cock doing nothing to help. You keen beneath him, letting out a whine as you wiggle your hips against his, stopping when you feel a firm hand grip your waist.

“Don’t,” he says, trying to sound firm, but his voice errs on the edge of a whine. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last much longer, _____.”

“I don’t care, baby,” you say, reaching up to curl an arm around his neck and press kisses to any inch of his jawline that you can reach. “Give it to me.”

You push your hips back again, despite his hold on you, and Seokjin groans once again, moving his hand from your waist to reach around and hold you close, giving an experimental thrust of his hips. 

You gasp, before letting it turn into a moan, and Seokjin lets his hesitation dissolve, slowly building a steady rhythm with his thrusts. You feel your body start to rock beneath him, and you let go of his neck to plant your hand back down on the bed to steady yourself and keep you up, legs starting to tremble with the hint of your release slowly creeping up on you. 

Seokjin’s fingers dig into your stomach, his breaths ragged against your back as he feels your walls continually clench around him. He digs his fangs into his tongue, trying to tamper down loud growls that threaten to spill from his lips, fully aware that the both of you are not alone in the house right now.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” you say, as if you’d read his mind.

“But -- fuck -- t-the others...” he replies weakly.

“Forget about them,” you say, turning to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Forget about them, Jinnie. I want to hear you. I want them to hear you.”

“God.” Seokjin throws his head back and groans quietly, hips still moving, before leaning back down to rest his head between your shoulders.

“Tell me how good I feel, Jinnie.”

“You feel -- ah -- fucking divine, _____,” he growls, hips picking up their pace as he starts to rock into you faster. “So good, sweetheart. Y-you’re mine. All mine.”

“I’m -- ah! -- yours, baby. Only yours,” you moan, loud enough to fill the room. “Always fuck me so well, Jinnie. Want you to fill me up.”

“God, yes. G-gonna fill you up ‘til your dripping.”

“Please.”

Seokjin’s hips move fast, cock thrusting in and out of you hard enough to have your moans stuttering as you keen, trying to match his pace and thrust back to meet him halfway. You fall to your elbows, back arching in a way that drives Seokjin’s cock in deeper into you, forcing a low, guttural growl to fill the room, no doubt being heard by the other occupants of the house outside too. 

You bite down on your bottom lip, fangs digging into your flesh as you roll your hips and muffle a moan against the pillow beneath you, feeling the heat in your lower stomach build, the tension growing with each thrust into you. 

Seokjin straightens up, hands gripping your hips and finding leverage to drive himself into you harder and deeper, throwing his head back with another growl, losing his rhythm for a split second when you clench your walls for a moment longer.

“Jinnie,” you whimper, hands gripping the pillows tightly. “I-I...”

Before you can say anything else, he pulls you up onto your knees and flush against his body, arms wrapped around your waist to hold you close. You can’t speak coherently anymore, head resting back against Seokjin’s shoulder, moans loud and unrestrained.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Seokjin whispers, lips pressed to your cheek as he continues to thrust up into you with a new found enthusiasm, headboard banging rhythmically against the bedroom wall. “Come for me.”

Your knees start to grow weak as the heat in your stomach builds, thighs trembling, chest rising and falling rapidly until you freeze in Seokjin’s arms, the tension exploding as you reach your peak and climax.

Seokjin can’t hold back any further, egged on by the way you call out his name, moaning loud enough to be heard outside of the bedroom. You whimper at the warmth that fills you when his hips completely still, and he lets out a shaky breath against your neck as he hugs you close.

“I love you,” you whisper, panting and pressing a kiss to Seokjin’s cheek.

Yoongi groans once again when his fingers slip and press down on the wrong keys.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, scowling as he looks up at the ceiling, hoping that his negativity permeates through the walls and into you and Seokjin’s shared room. “I need to move out.”

[daveywankenobie]

(Author sips coffee and sighs…)

February so far appears to be going pretty well.

Life is coming together very nicely – and with the possible exception of employment still being AWOL I have to say I’ve rarely been happier. This is more than mildly surprising because it’s fair to say that there was a time when I felt I’d never truly be accepted by the world or fit into it.

The truth is that I now feel a part of my surroundings and community in a way that I honestly never have before.

It’s never completely plain sailing mind you.

I guess it’s a feature of life (if it goes on long enough) that just when you think you’re sorted, on an even keel and have dealt with all of your demons that you find more of them popping out of the closet completely unannounced.

Amazingly – as painful (and deeply personal) as some of these can be to face up to – this time there is a significant difference. Now I’m not only, fitter, stronger, and more resilient – but I’m no longer dealing with them alone.

With a new relationship has come a gradual realisation that I no longer have to be the sole guardian of my self worth and belief – and that (in the same way as I hope I am in return) someone else now has a spare set of keys to my emotional vault.

That doesn’t mean they’re controlling of that element of me – it means that they are demonstrating again and again that they’re capable of not only enhancing but supporting me too.

Already I’m acutely aware that this is regularly making me think in ways that otherwise I would not have if I’d been left in splendid isolation.

It’s a pleasure (although sometimes also challenging) to see parts of myself that have been dormant for so long slowly whir back into life as I explore what it’s like to become ‘us’ rather than just ‘me’. Furthermore it’s great to have someone with many of the same – but also a continually surprising and divergent range of interests.

Again and again though I’m confronted with a pleasingly similar set of likes and dislikes.

I’d always thought in the back of my head that my taste in clothes (which is developing into a more colourful and flamboyant one all the time) would be a tough sell for a person that liked a more ‘buttoned down’ mode of dress.

All the designs I covet in shops however seem to not only meet with approval – but are greeted with enthusiasm – which is something I’m completely unused to.

Furthermore I’ve been introduced to a new set of clothing passions – which are (in some cases) things that I would never have previously considered – but now I find that I’m an ardent fan of as well.

Whilst I’ve never been particularly keen on high heels (the potential damage they can do to feet has always scared the living heck out of me) if they’re worn occasionally and they’re both unique and beautiful I find that I am inexplicably drawn to them.

At the weekend I was introduced to ‘Irregular Choice‘.

Oddly a regular twalking buddy had mentioned the online version of this shop before – but until I’d walked through the physical door of its premises in Brighton I’d not connected the dots and realised that it was the same place.

As regular readers will know I’m a seriously thrifty person.

My charity shopping habits are a matter of public record and I don’t like paying high street prices. Something has to either be heavily discounted in a sale or ‘pre-loved’ for me to consider buying it.

This has enabled a lot of experimentation – and I’m still going through a ‘developmental’ period in this respect.

However – there are some things that are so individual and beautiful that their cost is offset in my mind.

Sure – very little has changed in the ‘can Davey afford this kind of thing’ stakes (the answer is I cannot) but honestly there are some items that with the benefit of a regular income I’d definitely consider worthwhile.

Although I can wear nothing in this store it represents taste choices that I’ve never really considered – but that I suddenly love to bits. These shoes are the kinds of truly wonderful little pieces of art that I’d happily mount on my living room wall and admire from afar – yet they’re not much different in price from a pair of Clarkes or a mass produced pair of brand name trainers.

It blows my mind that I not only think this way – but that my opinions are shared. Not only is my experimental side okay but it’s suddenly something that’s being embraced with gusto.

Furthermore the nerdy geek in me (which represents a HUGE part of my personality) no longer feels the need to lurk in the background – which if I’m honest has not always been the case in the past.

Now when I linger peering excitedly into cabinets such as this there’s a murmer of approval nearby – and it’s nice to not feel like there’s any element of my personality that appears to need muting or modifying. The newly collaborative element in my life is also compatible when it comes other things too too – and thats great because something that I cannot do without is twalking.

This is so fundamental to who I am that without it I immediately feel like things are sliding in my life – or that I’m somehow heading for failure. It’s been so instrumental in my recent success that it’s forever going to dominate who I am as a person – and to know that I don’t have to hammer someone else’s square peg into my round hole is a joy that’s next to impossible to explain in words.

To know that when I’m navigating through a rainswept, muddy, miserable landscape framed by a grey sky with someone by my side that really doesn’t care what the weather is like as long as they’re outdoors is fantastic.

It’s much better though when the weather is just right and you can enjoy a cloudless blue sky while you sit down to look at the view whilst you sip your respective flasks of coffee and tea.

This weekend I’ve been exploring Birling Gap and the Seven sisters a little more.

However on Sunday I started at the other end of their span (last time I began my walk in Seaford – link) and I’ve decided that not only is it a really pretty little part of the world, but that I’m rather falling in love with it.

Despite my amorous inclinations though it’s also rapidly becoming the place in the world that I’m most likely to fall on my ass.

Although I never mentioned it in my previous posts this is the second time when I’ve unceremoniously felt my legs slip out from under me in the chalky mud around these parts. This glue like covering on the cliffs and in the nearby estuary has the habit of gumming up the tread on your boots and making it much harder to maintain a reliable grip.

When it’s combined with ice (as it was in the shaded parts of the seven sisters on Sunday) then it can result in a sore posterior and wrists – both of which invariably take the brunt of any sudden downward trajectory.

Thankfully it seems that another major benefit of me being a lot smaller these days is that my arms and ass remain unbroken when this occurs. All that gets damaged is my pride or the material in the rear of my trousers.

I don’t care though.

Muddy pants and boots are badges of pride – and I actually find it quite amusing that recently I’m slipping and sliding more than usual. As I headed home with the sun slowly going down over Cuckmere Haven the event barely even registered in my memory of the day.

My train of thought only moved on from the wonderful light and reflections when I started to think about what I was going to cook for dinner – which in this case was going to be for two.

This is a really positive new element in my life – because when I am preparing meals for someone other than just myself I eat noticeably less than I normally would when I’m on my own.

Not only am I more likely to keep to plan when I’m in company but during such evenings I typically spend much less time trying to modify or deal with the inevitable impact of solitary ‘boredom eating‘ – which if I’m honest has always been a big problem for me. It’s something that’s never really changed in all the time I’ve been attending Slimming World – or since I reached target.

My evenings have at times been a wasteland of cottage cheese pots, Aldi Benefit Bar wrappers and plum seeds or apple cores. I’m no different to anyone else with dietary demons in this respect.

It’s never really been a case of whether or not I will go off the rails – but how much I can limit the damage when I do.

Replacing this is a new push into making lovely meals that someone else can enjoy too – and thanks to many Slimming World food tasting sessions (and a willingness to experiment a little when they come around) I have a number of easy to make but delicious healthy meals in my cooking lexicon.

This ‘baked stuffed peppers’ example is something I first cooked (following guidance in a SW magazine) back in June 2016 (link) and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone that likes its ingredients.

I can confirm that it went down very well with its intended audience – and it’s so nice that this recipe is actually the reason that I started using 5% fat pork instead of beef mince in my chilli con carne.

It proved beyond a shadow of a doubt at the time that not only was it a significant upgrade from beef (I find that it’s far less chewy for one thing and almost identical in terms of calorie content) but the resulting taste was way better.

Furthermore its value (usually around £1 less than beef per 500g) seemed far more appealing because – since I cook a chilli every week without fail – this represented a saving of £52 per year – which for me is an entire week’s shopping in Aldi.

With all this good behaviour I’m well on track to being in target for my diamond member award – and last night when I attended one of Angie’s groups locally in Warwick I hit the weigh in nail squarely on the head.

After nearly a month out of group gallivanting around the country I managed a maintain – meaning I’m still smack bang on my target weight. 

I’m still squarely in the middle of my target range – and this also means that the last entry in my book will hopefully be when I secure my diamond target member status.

I’m not sure I could have planned that if I’d tried – but when I do my Slimming World book will contain an entire and complete record of my journey from my first weigh in to this very significant milestone.

If you want to see the entire history of my losses (and occasional mis-steps) you can find them here (link) or have a look in my homepage menu.

If you’re on your own journey then I can’t overstate how important it is to keep a log of what you’ve done right (and wrong). If you’re following Slimming World I also urge you to take the time to update your progress online in the app or on their web page.

Their graphing tools have kept me on the straight and narrow throughout my time following the plan – and it never fails to fill me with a sense of pride when I see its variations slowly smoothing out into one long gentle curve downwards – followed by a (relatively) straight line.

Looking at a history of where you’ve come from and where you’ve ended up – as well as recognising that sometimes things will go a little topsy turvey and that if they do it’s totally normal is a real help in times when you really don’t feel like you can be strong or focused.

Anyway – my day is ebbing away internet and I need to get walking. I can’t sit here talking to you all day long, regardless of how nice it is to catch up.

Let’s do coffee again later in the week x

Davey

  Shared flamboyance (Author sips coffee and sighs...) February so far appears to be going pretty well. Life is coming together very nicely - and with the possible exception of employment still being AWOL I have to say…