#made this in about 10 minutes in procreate last night

[pardycity]

:pardybless:

[1kook]

A COLLECTION  [ updated: 8 . 23 . 21 ]

— STATUS ONGOING — NO REPOSTS — ASKS under #ncouple ! — Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr

—NETFLIX & CHILL.

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.  warnings smut in the forms of grinding, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla unprotected sex, dirty talk misc use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc  word count 10.2k  posted june 12, 2020

—HULU & WOOHOO.

summary But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings slight feelings of insecurity, smut in the forms of fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, hand jobs, unprotected sex, riding, slight praise kink  misc if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read word count 6.3k posted july 4, 2020

—IMAX & CLIMAX.

summary The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings smut in the form of blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl (? kinda), daddy kink that morphs into ily kink misc  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count 9.8k posted august 5, 2020

—KISSANIME & FOREPLAY.

summary You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings mentions of hentai, smut in the forms of cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 word count 8.2k posted september 1, 2020

—DISNEY+ & BUST.

summary There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.   warnings arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of humiliation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment (? idk lol), unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, the return of mean jk, desperate jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf misc angst, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count 13k posted september 9, 2020

—ESPN & BDSM.

summary You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.   warnings smut in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink misc kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count 12.7k posted september 14, 2020

—YOUTUBE & USE LUBE.

summary You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, tit fucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook misc domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count 8.7k   posted september 30, 2020

—VIKI & HICKEYS.

summary Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.   warnings a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries, jk is a good boy n I want him to be happy   misc there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide word count 16.3k posted january 14, 2021

—PEACOCK & SWEET TALK.

summary “I wanna watch Solange in Bring It On,” Jungkook smiles, and you have to wonder who exactly this blond man is and what he did with your teen-movie-hating boyfriend.   warnings smut in the forms of kissing, cunnilingus (eating out + fingering), light praise, a lil body worship, jk fat cawk, brief nipple play, playful jk, unprotected sex, riding and missionary, the jk hand kink, I love you kink, jk wants nudes, jk’s cheerleader fantasies mentioned, spit kink, light choking, jk has like a scent kink (?), mention of collars and pet play misc app developer jk becomes even MORE app developer-y, oc is anti-google, there's plot, a 2 year anniversary, Solange knowles appreciation, BLOND JK!!!, gets sappy for a sec, seahorse marriage mention, doyeon x joon side pairing, jk is disgustingly dreamy and oc is threatened by that fact word count 10.7k posted march 23, 2021

— CRUNCHYROLL & RAIL.

summary Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. warnings smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… misc fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality word count 8.7k posted may 21, 2021

—FUNIMATION & PROCREATION.

summary Never mind your upcoming wedding, this was perhaps the greatest moment of your life— the day Jungkook sought out an anime on his own. warnings kissing, smut in the forms of cunnilingus, cum eating, mentions of anal, doggy style, unprotected sex with the intention of pregnancy, spitting, hand holding<3 misc the wedding night, Doyeon strikes again, jjk watches  jjk, oh no not twins word count 9.1k posted july 31, 2021

—BOOMERANG AND BANG. 

coming soon

—COOKIES & CREAM.

summary Jungkook will watch a thousand cheesy Christmas movies if it meant making you happy. (And maybe having his dick sucked.) warnings smut in the form of blowjobs, face fucking, cum facials, fingering, overstim, double orgasm, r*mantic sex, riding, unprotected, cream pies, jk does this weird thing where he licks her face yeah idk, jk loves seeing his gf cry, jk has an obsession with jizz   misc jk pov !!, eggnog slander, jk hates xmas movies, oc dresses like a sexy mrs claus, Elf !!, jk is in loooove word count 7.1k posted december 23, 2020

— TUTUS & TIARAS.

summary your first pregnancy through the lens of your husband warnings smut in the forms of penetrative sex, sex while pregnant, unprotected sex, tit play, cunnilingus, mutual masturbation, sticking the tip in and jacking off/cockwarming?, creampies, nose kink (? like she grinds against his nose), infatuation with scent, frottage/grinding, lactation kink, titluvr jk [bass boosted] misc married ncouple <3, domesticity, jk pov, mood swings, pregnancy, GIRLDAD!JK, DILF!JK, pregnant!reader, jk’s kids are virgos its true  word count 10k posted august 23, 2021

— one.

summary Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same.  word count 1.3k posted September 10, 2020

—two.

summary Even after all these years, all these doubts, and all this solitude that was really no one’s fault but his own, he still finds himself hoping that maybe you’ll be the one. word count 1k posted september 11, 2020

—three.

summary But Jungkook loves the sun. word count 1.5k posted september 12th, 2020

—four.

summary For the last ten minutes or so his mind has been bothered by one thing and one thing only— the hair that hung in his face. word count 800 words posted september 22, 2020

—five.

summary Startled and inexperienced, he can’t do anything but rub his hands over your back. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he murmurs, even though it’s not. word count 1.3k posted september 22, 2020

—six.

SUMMARY Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. WC 1.8k POSTED september 25, 2020

—seven.

summary And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan. word count 2k posted october 30, 2020

—eight.

summary You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give. But Jungkook is the same.   word count 1.9k posted december 28, 2020

—nine.

summary “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?” word count 2.2k posted january 8 2021

—ten.

summary See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do. word count 1.4k posted february 14, 2021

—eleven.

summary You’re too bright, too… there. His shell is too small. word count 1.2k posted may 3, 2021

—twelve.

summary Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee. word count 1.4k posted may 8th, 2021

—thirteen.

summary Because for as much shit as you let him get away with, Jungkook is certain you’ll draw the line today.   word count 1k posted june 13, 2021

—fourteen.

summary Jungkook needs you to know that you can always count on him. word count 1.3k posted july 6, 2021

—fifteen.

summary It’s Jungkook’s teenage fantasy— being pushed down by a cheerleader. word count 3.1k posted august 9, 2021

— sixteen.

summary Your skin is warm and smells like sunshine. Jungkook can’t really explain it. (And also like the sunscreen you had doused him in earlier, but that isn’t as romantic.) word count 1.9K posted august 11, 2021

—seventeen.

summary She looks his way and suddenly Jungkook is nineteen again, in his dorm, listening to the first person he ever thought he loved telling him he’s too much to handle. word count 1.6k posted august 18, 2021

beautiful banners made for series!

cute and cozy gif by the lovely @ladyartemesia​ 

LASTLY: 

[suburbanbeatnik]

Françoise de Bernardy’s Alexandre Walewski: The Polish son of Napoleon- the first chapter

If I went to the (long and tedious) effort of translating the first chapter of  Françoise Bernardy’s 1976 biography of Alexandre Walewski, I figure you guys should see it too. Enjoy!

* * *

MARCH 1810. Paris is moved by the preliminaries of Napoleon's marriage with Marie-Louise. In a few days, the archduke Charles has to marry in Vienna, in the name of the French Caesar, his yesterday's victor, the daughter of the German Caesars.


At 2 rue du Houssaye, in the then aristocratic district of Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, a small hotel of elegant appearance. On March 10, at the end of the afternoon, the Emperor brought a cradle decorated with silver laurel. The room where the imperial gift is deposited is hung with light blue. On the wall is a beautiful portrait of a woman by Gerard: blonde, with beautiful eyes and a fine, gentle face. The mirror of the fireplace reflects the charming features. Near the Boucaut armchairs, a Martin varnished chiffonier, behind, half-folded, a large screen of Coromandel lacquer.

A heroic fighter in the last wars of Polish independence, Mathieu Laczynski, staroste of Gostyn, died young and desperate, leaving a widow and six children who can barely live off the mortgaged land of Kiernozia.

The years pass, aggravating the ruin. The four sons are valiant but weak, spendthrift, covered with debts, whether they work on the land or fight in the Polish legions in the service of France. Only one hope, a rich marriage for the oldest daughter, Marie, born in 1786, who is beautiful and good.

An almost septuagenarian but very noble neighbor, Count Anastasius Walewski, offers this rich marriage when Marie has just turned seventeen. At first, the young girl rejects the idea of a union with an old man, twice widowed, whose son Stanislaus is already a made man. But Mme. Laczynska urges her daughter. She knows that he has a warm heart and a devoted soul. Count Walewski is generous. If Mary sacrifices herself, he will secure the future of her brothers and sister. How to resist seventeen years? At the beginning of 1804 Marie became countess Walewska. In June 1805 she had a son, Antoine, a fragile, weak, viable child, who was taken over by the count's sister, Hedwige, an abusive spinster. She leaves behind a distraught young woman with a sad heart and empty arms. Only the sense of duty and a deep passion, which lifts her out of herself, the love of the country, sustain her. Marie lives on the hopes that the victories of the imperial France over Austria, Prussia, and Russia, the powers that once shared Poland.

This patriotism and these hopes brought Marie Walewska to meet Napoleon in Blonie on the road to Warsaw on December 31, 1806. In the weeks that followed, this patriotism and these hopes persuaded the young woman to become the mistress of the French emperor, first forced, then willing, then in love. In the spring of 1807, she lived with him in Finckenstein, where the warrior spent some quiet hours preparing for the Friedland campaign.

Unofficially separated from her old husband, Marie Walewska came to Paris at the beginning of 1808. She remained there until the Emperor's departure for Bayonne. If the fever of the senses has subsided between them, if the lovers are often and for a long time separated, nevertheless Napoleon remains attentive and Marie attached. And then there is always Poland, whose destiny once more seems to be played out during the campaign of 1809. In May, Marie writes to Napoleon, reminds him of his promises, offers to join him in Austria, and on May 18, from Schoenbrunn, which he is about to leave for his headquarters in Ebersdorf, the Emperor replies to the young woman.

"Marie, I have received your letter. I read it with the pleasure that your memory always inspires me. The feelings that you keep for me, I carry them with me.

"Come to Vienna, I wish to see you and give you new proofs of the tender friendship I have for you. You cannot doubt the value I place on everything that concerns you. A thousand tender kisses on your beautiful hands and one on your beautiful mouth. "

A month later, back at Schoenbrunn, on June 20, fifteen days before the battle of Wagram, the Emperor sent Marie an affectionate letter.

"Dear Marie, your letters have pleased me as always. I do not approve of your having followed the [Polish] army in Cracow, but I cannot blame you.

"The affairs of Poland are restored, and I understand the anxieties you have had ... I acted, it was better than to lavish consolation on you. You don't have to thank me, I love your country and I appreciate the merits of many of your people.

"It takes more than the capture of Vienna to bring the end of the campaign. When I have finished, I will move to be closer to you, my sweet friend, because I am anxious to see you again. If it is at Schoenbrunn, we will enjoy together the charm of its beautiful gardens and we will forget all these bad days.

"Have patience and keep faith. "N"

After Wagram, Countess Walewska moved to Moedling, a few miles from Vienna, and throughout the summer of 1809, while peace was being discussed, the Emperor came almost every day to spend the evening, the night - with Marie.

Slow, sweet weeks which, if they seem to consecrate the liaison by the expectation of a child, however, by precipitating the divorce, also prepare the rupture. Indeed, Marie wishes to return to France with the Emperor, but Napoleon, now assured that he can procreate, determined to separate from Josephine, does not want to. The presence of the young woman in Paris would disturb him as he prepares his second marriage. He asked the Countess to return to Poland and on October 13 - the Emperor left Vienna the next day - Marie took the road to Warsaw.

On December 18 - the divorce was pronounced on the 15th - from Trianon where he went to his departure from the Tuileries, Napoleon writes to the countess Walewska. How the tone has changed since the letters of May and June, and how the young woman must have suffered. It is no longer a lover, but the sovereign who speaks, only the concern for the child still shines through. "Madam, I received your letter. All that it contains touched me much. I was pleased to see that you arrived in Warsaw without any unpleasant accident. Take care of your health, which is very precious to me, and put away dark thoughts, the future should not worry you. Teach me that you are happy and content, that is my greatest desire."

Unconsciousness of men. It is almost in the same terms that the Emperor tries to console Josephine...

Happy? Happy? Marie is not happy while she is waiting for Napoleon's child so far away from him, while Caulaincourt seems to be about to sacrifice the Polish hopes in Saint-Petersburg... In 1807, prince Poniatowski asked countess Walewska not to reject the sovereign on whom the fate of Poland depends. In 1810, he probably asked Marie to come to Paris to defend the cause of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw and she agreed. Thus, she was in Paris at the beginning of 1810.

Marie Walewska looked sadly at the cradle. It is true that Napoleon welcomed her and spoke tenderly of the child she was carrying - a son, he had no doubt. But the young woman's heart is heavy. The Emperor had come the day before to bid her farewell. He would not see her again until she had given birth. What will Marie do? Stay in Paris? Retire to the country? To Warsaw? But can she return without the count's permission?

All of a sudden hurried footsteps, a panting courier. "A letter from Poland!"

The count's handwriting...

"Walewice, 21 February 1810

"Dear and honored wife,

"Walewice is more and more a burden to me, my age and state of health forbidding me any activity. I have come there for the last time, in order to sign the deed by which my eldest son acquires it.

"I advise you to come to an agreement with him about the formalities to be completed at the birth of the child you are expecting. They will be simplified if it is in Walewice that this Walewski is born.

"This is also his opinion, and that I write to you. I do so, conscious of fulfilling my duty, praying to God that he may have you in his care.

"Anastase Colonna Walewski".

Marie weeps with relief, with gratitude. Without wasting a minute, she claims her chaise de poste.

Poland is still under a blanket of snow when the Walewska princess arrives in Walewice. The young woman was pleased to see the long white house again, with its two wings covered by terraces and the triangular pedimented porch. This "colonial style" is surprising in the Polish plain: it is a memory of the veterans of the American War of Independence.

April soon brings its first greens, the buds burst in the woods. Marie Walewska takes long solitary walks. Her term is near. What will be the future of this child in whom Slavic and Latin blood are mixed? If it is a son, will he be a soldier, a diplomat? If it is a daughter, will she have fewer difficulties than her mother? What Marie wishes for her child is happiness...

On May 4, Countess Walewska gave birth to a son. At the end of his life Alexandre Walewski will write:

"My birth was accompanied by lightning and thunder, and it was predicted that my life would be stormy and even life-changing.

"To satisfy an old family prejudice, I was held at the font by two beggars, which was supposed to bring me luck... "

Three days pass, then on May 7 the priest of Walewice, acting as civil registrar, registers in the commune of Bielow that "Mgr Anastase de Walewski, staroste of Wareck, residing in Walewice, age of 73 years ", presented him "a child of the male sex, born in his palace on May 4 of the present year at four o'clock, by clarifying to us that he was born from his marriage with the lady Marie, nee de Laczynska, his wife . ... and that he intended to give her the following three names: Alexandre-Florian-Joseph. In view of this declaration, we have proceeded to the redaction of the birth certificate of the said child, in the presence of Mgr Stanislas de Walewski aged 30 years ... and of Mr. Joseph Ciekerski,doctor of medicine and surgeon deliverer ... which birth certificate was signed by us as well as by the above-mentioned and the required witnesses after reading made. "

Anastase Walewski thus fulfills all his duty towards a woman whose honesty and uprightness he appreciates. To this child who is nothing to him, he assures a name, a legitimate filiation, a heritage. This is a striking proof of the affection and esteem he has for Marie. Stanislaus Walewski is fully associated with this testimony by his presence in front of the priest of Walewice.

On his side the Emperor did not forget Marie.

On April 16 (1) he wrote to her: 

"Madam, I receive with great pleasure your news, but the dark ideas that I see that you nourish do not suit you well. I do not want you to have any. Teach me soon that you have a beautiful boy, that your health is good and that you are cheerful. Never doubt the pleasure I will have in seeing you and the tender interest I take in what concerns you. Farewell Marie, I await with confidence your news."

(1) When it was published, this letter was dated February 16. This date hardly seems acceptable. First of all, it is clearly a reply to a distant person whom the Emperor will have "pleasure in seeing". Above all, Napoleon knew that the child was due at the beginning of May and he could not hope that he would be born "soon" - prematurely. Date of April, when the young woman withdrew to Walewice, this text takes on its full meaning.

Leaving a few days later for Belgium and Holland with Marie-Louise, he is informed by quick couriers and, as soon as he knows the birth of Alexandre, he sends for the child Brussels lace and twenty thousand gold francs, for the mother, a very special tribute if we think of Napoleon's admiration for the poet, the works of Corneille, printed in Rouen in 1648, in a beautiful binding by Trantz. Does the Emperor want to signify to Marie that she has the high and tender soul of a Chimene, that he remembers her faithful and generous love?

Napoleon called the young woman back to France on September 3. After thanking her for the news brought by her brother, Theodore Laczynski, he adds in effect: "If your health is well recovered, I desire that you come on the end of autumn to Paris where I desire very much to see you... "

An amicable agreement is then definitively reached between Marie and the count Walewski. The latter gives her a large part of his fortune and entrusts her with the custody of their son Antoine. In Paris Marie Walewska moves back to rue du Houssaye. The months pass. Marie lives far from the court, does not meet Napoleon who, all occupied with Marie-Louise, seems to be interested in the young woman and her son. Finally, in February 1811, the Emperor came to see little Alexandre. It is a beautiful blond child, but whose dark complexion recalls that of the Bonapartes. He has the round head of the Latins, the high and wide forehead of his father, his eyebrow, his mouth and his chin, but the eye does not have the deep blue of the Corsican, reflection of the Mediterranean, it does not have either the sparkle which had always to brighten in the imperial pupil, the brown eye of Alexandre is pleasant and merry. A second visit follows the first one, then it is the rupture, without clashes, without discussion, like a fruit that has reached maturity.

Napoleon, however, is very concerned about the material well-being of Countess Walewska, to whom Duroc brings ten thousand francs every month. Especially the future of his son. On the eve of leaving Paris for Russia, on May 5, 1812, he made the young woman come to the Tuileries and gave her a patent which instituted in favor of Alexandre a majorat of one hundred and seventy thousand pounds of income, with the title of count. The majorat is established on goods situated in the kingdom of Naples.

One evening in January 1813, Alexandre was awakened with a start. Dressed in a hurry, he was taken to his mother.

"Two elderly men were with him, one of whom took me on his lap and kissed me. His physiognomy made a deep impression on me; it was certainly the first memory of his life."

The Emperor's solicitude for his Polish son did not waver. In the middle of the dark hours of the French campaign, fearing that Murat would confiscate the first endowment, he charged his treasurer general, M. de La Bouillerie, to establish a new majorat of fifty thousand pounds of rent on the canals for the young Walewski; he also had a hotel at 48, rue de la Vicioire, bought in the name of Alexandre for 137,500 francs, of which Marie was the usufructuary (1).

Come the great reverses. In the defeated Emperor, abandoned by his former companions, Marie Walewska sees only the man who has loved her, whom she has loved. She runs to Fontainebleau and is announced. Napoleon, absorbed, does not see her again immediately, and then does not think about her anymore. Weary of body and soul, he looks for oblivion and rest in poison, but does not find it.

All night long, in an anteroom, Marie waits for him to call her. In the morning, she finally goes away, discreet, fearing to be unwelcome. The Emperor learns a few hours later of her apparent negligence. "The poor woman," he murmured, "will think she has been forgotten," and on April 16 he was anxious to reassure her. "Marie, I have received your letter of the 15th, the feelings that you have expressed touch me deeply. They are worthy of your beautiful soul and the goodness of your heart. When you have arranged your affairs, if you want to go to the waters of Lucca or Pisa, I will see you with great and lively interest, as well as your son for whom my feelings are invariable. Be well, think of me with pleasure and never doubt me.”

(1) On February 4, from Nogent, he writes in his own hand to La Bouillerie: "I have received your letter relative to young Walewski. I leave you carte blanche. Do what is convenient but do it immediately. What interests me is above all the child, the mother afterwards."     A judgment of the court of the Seine, of April 4, 1818, will authorize the tutor of the "minor" Walewski it to sell the hotel of the rue de la Victoire and it to replace the funds produced by this sale in the purchase of Walewice of which Stanislas Walewski wants to get rid.

In August 1814 Marie Walewska travels to Italy with her son, her sister Emilie and her brother Theodore. The Emperor encouraged her again on August 9: 

"Marie, I have received your letter, I have spoken to your brother. Go to Naples to arrange your affairs. On my way there or on my way back, I will see you with the interest you have always inspired in me, and the little one of whom I hear so much good news that I am truly happy and will be happy to embrace him. Farewell, Madame, a hundred tender things.”

On September 1 Marie arrived on the island of Elba with her son, Emilie and Theodore. Immediately a rumor spread among the population and the small garrison: Marie-Louise and the King of Rome had just arrived. The good people are mistaken. The Viennese woman of light soul and weak flesh is in Aix, already all in Neipperg.

Is Napoleon going to retain Marie who has come to offer him her life? Certainly he is moved to find her always so faithful and so generous. But the Emperor thinks first of the Empress, first of the King of Rome, and he fears that Marie-Louise, warned of the coming of the Polish girl, will take the pretext not to join him. Surprisingly, does he not guess that the choice is already made?

In any case, he receives Marie Walewska in a half-mystery, at the hermitage of the Madonna.

Leaving the countess the three rooms of the little house, Napoleon settles for the night in a tent under the chestnut trees. When he came out in the morning, he found Alexandre playing. He called him, sat down on a chair, took the child in his lap, then sent for Foureau de Beauregard, the doctor who had followed him to Elba, and the latter wrote to Alexandre Walewski on June 22, 1843: "You are that pretty little Alexandre that I saw, almost twenty-nine years ago, on the Emperor's lap near the Madonna delle Grazie on the island of Elba.”

“The Emperor wanted the child, who had no youngster with him, to be there," says Marchand. The Emperor placed Mme. Walewska's son next to him, he was very good at first, but it didn't last long and, as his mother reproached him, the Emperor said to him: "So you are not afraid of the whip? Well! I urge you to fear it; I have only received it once and I have always remembered it." Napoleon then tells how one day when he had mocked his grandmother's clumsy walk, Madame Mere had firmly corrected him. "The child had listened with the greatest attention, the Emperor said to him: 'Well, what do you say to that?’— ‘But I don't make fun of Mama,' he said with a little air of contrition which pleased the Emperor, who kissed him and said: 'That's well answered.’"

Rare picture of Napoleon with his Polish son.

That same evening, September 2, Marie Walewska took the road to Naples again in small steps. The endowment of Alexandre, confiscated on September 15 with all the other French endowments of the kingdom of Naples, is restored on November 30. Perhaps on the intervention of Caroline, who always liked Marie Walewska? Perhaps Murat had some shame to add a meanness to his betrayals? In any case the Emperor was satisfied and he told the King of Naples on February 17, 1815, adding: "I recommend her to you and especially her son who is very dear to me. "She came to Paris in the spring of 1838 and was ‘touched by the assiduous care’ that Walewski gave her during her stay. Caroline Murat wrote to him on November 23: "I am sending you the letter from the Emperor that I had promised you; you will see in it the proofs of the affection that he had for you... "

The countess Walewska lingers in Naples. Alexandre will keep a vague but pleasant memory of this stay, of the toys that he received there. At the beginning of 1815 the mother and the child embarked for France. Caught by a corsair, they escaped him in great difficulty.

Marie learned of the death of the count in Walewice on January 18, 1815. Now that she is free, what will she do with her life? To marry General d'Ornano, who has been courting her for a long time and for whom she has a deep inclination? Perhaps... She has hardly had time to decide when on March 1, 1815 Napoleon lands in Golfe-Juan.

It is the prestigious return, the intoxicating reception of Paris, the feverish days of work. Before the departure for the plains of Flanders where the imperial eagle will fall, Marie, always faithful heart, goes to the Elysee with her son. Alexandre found the visitor from the rue du Houssaye at the palace. He wears, as on the island of Elba, a blue uniform with a white lapel. "He told my mother that he was going to leave for a campaign. He asks me if I want to go with him. My mother refused. ‘Well madam, I will take him by force.’” These words still ring in my ears. "

Waterloo, the second abdication, the halt at Malmaison. Marie once again comes to the Emperor. So many bonds united them, gratitude for the resurrected Poland, and then love, and then the child. Without a doubt, she is ready to accompany him in this exile from which Napoleon's immense weariness, after a life so full and so ardent, awaits rest. But he does not accept, happiness is no longer for him, he enters the legend.

Despite the clear light of this beautiful summer day, everything is sad and gloomy on this June 26 and Malmaison is a kingdom of shadows: shadow of Josephine, unfaithful and charming, shadow of Duroc and Bessieres, shadow of the madman Junot, shadow of the absent ones too, Eugene, Murat, the companions of glory and youth, shadow of Talleyrand and Fouche who betrayed him, shadow above all of this young consul who took France in his arms and with a sincere effort straightened it.

Marie and the Emperor speak at length. Alexandre, serious and silent, listens to them without understanding. The countess is crying softly, she would like to retain Napoleon, to persuade him not to abandon himself to destiny. It is a vain effort, the Emperor does not hear her, nor does he hear Hortense. Marie finally decides to leave and Napoleon leans over to the child and gives him a long kiss. Later the man made, the wall man who became ambassador, then minister of the resurrected empire, will remember that he thought he saw a tear running down the cheek of the defeated of Waterloo.

Three more days the slow agony continues, three more days Marie returns to Malmaison and on June 29 she will be among the last faithful who, on the threshold of the house, will see the Emperor sinking with a firm step into the park, crossing the small gate, will hear the door of the heavy car slamming while the bells of the church of Rueil ring...

* * *

A long year... Europe catches its breath, gets used to the absence of the man who for fifteen years has dominated it and who disappeared at the bottom of the Atlantic.

On September 7, 1816 Marie Walewska married Ornano, who had been exiled by the Restoration, in St. Gudula in Brussels. Antoine and Alexandre Walewski stayed in Paris. Under the guidance of M. Carite, a friend on whom the countess entrusted the education of her children, and of an old valet, Andre, the two little ones join the Ornanos at the waters of Chaudfontaine near Liege. The new household moved soon after to Liege itself, in a charming house on rue Mandeville, today rue de la Fragnee. On June 9, 1817, a son, Rodolphe, was born. After his release from exile, Ornano returned to Paris with his wife in October 1817, but Marie died soon after, on December 11.

In her will Madame d'Ornano entrusted the guardianship of her Polish sons to her brother Theodore Laczynski, who was in Paris at the time. "He will have to report frequently to my dear husband on the state of Alexandre's health, to take his advice when this child will be of school age. Place him in a school where his father-in-law will be able to go and visit him sometimes and supervise his education... "

Laczynski takes the two orphans to Kiernozia in Poland. Alexandre likes this quiet and patriarchal life. Memories of the imperial era haunt the house. In the evening, Antoine and Alexandre linger in the living room. Theodore Laczvnski takes the lead in the conversation, he talks about the French Revolution, Paris, the imperial campaigns, especially about the Emperor. As Duroc's aide-de-camp, the Pole often approached Napoleon. The children, with bright eyes, listen "with indefinable interest". Laczynski's dream is to go to Saint Helena, to take his wards there...

After a few happy months in the country, Theodore Laczynski decides to settle in Warsaw and gives the children whose education cannot be neglected any longer a tutor. A strange choice. The times decidedly wanted it. While Queen Hortense entrusted Louis-Napoleon to the son of the conventionnel Le Bas, the young Walewskis, in their snows, were given to a certain Muller, a "philosopher teacher" as he called himself, of a very advanced republicanism. Laczynski quickly separates from the astonishing character and, in order to restore the balance, his pupils spend half a year in a Jesuit college in Warsaw, where Alexandre makes his first communion. Then they left for Geneva in 1820.

Napoleon's son stayed there for four years. After a happy, pampered life with the gentle and tender woman who was his mother, the child had two more easy years. Now here he is, thrown alone - his brother Antoine is leaving him soon (1) - in a new, even hostile environment, in a foreign city whose Protestant austerity must have clashed with the Catholic heredity of this Pole with Latin roots. And yet, as he himself wrote, it was from this period that his spiritual life began. The city of Calvin suits this calm, somewhat soft temperament. No flashes of anger or outbursts. Order, measure, a certain fundamental rigidity. In Geneva, one day in the summer of 1821, the child of Wagram, the one who prayed for the Emperor because he was his father, learns of the death of the captive of Saint Helena.

(1)Recalled probably by the tsar. Antoine Walewski died young, without children from his marriage to Constance Grotowska.

No trace in the memories of the imprisoned man of what he thought, felt... Did he ever know, except by the cold instructions to the executors of his will, that Napoleon, although absorbed by the concern for his imperial son, nevertheless thought of his Polish son, recommended him to Bertrand, expressed the wish that he enter a regiment of lancers, and above all that he become a Frenchman. "He is really of my blood, and that is also something."

Alexandre Walewski is a boarder at the Academy's rector's house, which receives about twenty young people. His lavish lifestyle, the apartment, the governor, the servant, attracted jealousy and bullying. In spite of his young age, Alexandre decides to avoid a situation which, if it goes on too long, will become painful. He gets the governor recalled, keeps the servant but puts him at the service of the community. He has easy money - his hands will always be wide open -, he lends to his comrades and shows himself to be generous. He is a serious, authoritarian boy, aware of his importance. The traits of his character, which we will find again during his life, are already marked: he is honest, upright, but he is neither cheerful nor fanciful. He evokes his life in Geneva as follows: "I was at twelve very tall for my age, and I considered myself a young man; so much so that I was already going a little into the world, to balls, to little parties... I stayed in Geneva for four years. I left Geneva on an order from the emperor of Russia."

* * * 

On his return to Poland in 1824, Alexandre Walewski was emancipated by his tutor. He settled in Walewice, where he led a stately life. Princess Jablonowska, a sexagenarian cousin who had once been the friend and confidante of Maria Walewska, helped him to entertain. The house of the young man, of this so young man, is soon to be very sought after.

Precocious from a worldly point of view, Alexandre Walewski is also precocious with women. The Latin blood is hot, the Slavic blood as well. Judging by what he wrote in the first draft of his memoirs, shortly after his arrival in Walewice, Alexandre had an affair. He had an affair with a "vulgar girl" that left him feeling disgusted and that would keep him away from such promiscuity in the future. The numerous women who will mark out his life will be from now on women of talent or: women of quality.

On December 22, 1825, Alexandre sends to the General d'Ornano his wishes for the new year. This letter, green, charming, which confirms the impression of maturity of a boy who is not sixteen years old, also reveals the affectionate feelings that he feels for his stepfather.

“It is nearly three months since I wrote to you and many things have happened since I took possession of my land in Walewice. First of all, the castle was repaired, which was in great need of it, and then my good cousin wanted the whole region to hear, with loud trumpeting, that I had become its lord. More than a hundred people did us the honor of attending the magnificent ball that she gave. It was very cold outside, but fortunately there was no snow that night. I was celebrated and saw people from the past whom I pretended to recognize and who were charmed by it. The dowagers even kissed me, but not the young girls, which would have pleased me more. I made up for it by dancing with several of them.

"I must confess also that I fell several times into the sin of pride. I don't know who said anything about my academic successes, but I have been in the hot seat and have been made to take part in political, diplomatic, literary, and I don't know what else conversations. How many compliments have I heard about my intelligence, my reason, the power of my arguments, etc., etc., etc.? And then I noticed that the girls preferred me to many other dancers. As the lessons given to me were profitable, I remembered that it was especially necessary to court ladies of canonical age and they brought back to me very flattering appreciations on my modest person, expressed by exquisite mouths...

"General Zayonczek is one of my most frequent visitors... He rambles a little, but this does not affect his memory. He remembers very well all that happened in Warsaw when the Emperor came there before the battle of Eylau... He is very popular with the great Duke and even with the Czar's court. Some people criticize him, but I think it is good that we have our great men in favor. It can only be useful for us...

"We will reopen the Warsaw hotel in a few days. Ah! if we could see you there!

"Your tender and respectful Alexandre. "

Son of the patriot Marie Walewska, son of the Emperor, Alexandre attracts Polish hopes. He would gladly be taken as a standard bearer. Grand Duke Constantine, the skillful and often benevolent governor of the kingdom, wanted to neutralize him. He offers him to join the Russian army, to become his aide-de-camp. The young man "stubbornly" refused. He was put under police surveillance and told to leave the country. Tsar Alexandre had once recommended that Napoleon's Polish son should never be allowed to go to France: his brother remembered this.

Alexandre decides to escape. With a passport obtained at a high price, he goes to St. Petersburg and hides there, waiting for a favorable opportunity to gain more free land. He learns that the police are looking for him to bring him back to Warsaw where his fate will be decided. Four hundred leagues on foot, a probable prison do not tempt the Pole. He had to escape at all costs. He reached Kronstadt and boarded a steamer bound for England. The police have found his trail, and they launch an armed barge in pursuit of him, ordering him to stop: inadvertently or unwillingly, the captain does not obey the summons and, thanks to his superior speed, makes it to the open sea.

* * * 

In London, Walewski received an enthusiastic welcome from the elegant society, the opposition. The Whigs, that is, the Liberals, have always regretted the treatment of the Emperor, and Lord Holland has protested in the House of Lords against the conditions of captivity. With Napoleon gone, the regrets became remorse...

In spite of the attentions of which he is the object, the young man does not linger in England. He will return there with pleasure and in 1828 he will spend several months: summer, autumn, making a long stay in Chatworth at the Duke of Devonshire, the most prominent of the great Whig lords. But it is in Paris that Walewski intends to settle down. He arrived there in the autumn of 1827. He found his father-in-law, with him Flahaut, Sebastiani, Gerard, veterans of the time. The salons of the Faubourg Saint Honore, of liberal tendency, receive him with great pleasure. He is charming at his entrance in the Parisian world, this young Walewski. Slim, slender, elegant, he has beautiful dark eyes and a dreamy smile. His slight accent adds to his charm when he courts a woman, and he waltzes divinely - like a Slav.

And then, isn't he called the natural son of Man? The Marechal de Castellane notes on November 1, 1827: "At Mme de Flahaut's, I saw for the first time a young M. Walewski, son of Mme Walewska and of the Emperor Napoleon. He has the eyes, the sound of his father's voice, he is taller than him and very well turned out (1)."

(1) Many years later Walewski pronounced the eulogy of the count of Rayneval. An old general of the Empire suddenly begins to cry. "I attended the farewell that the Emperor made to his guard at Fontainebleau and I just heard the sound of his voice.”

What is more surprising, the faubourg Saint-Germain, stronghold of the ultras, is infatuated with Walewski who becomes the darling of the "ultra-duchesses" according to Lady Morgan. Haussonville on his side confirms it to us. "The debuts of Count Walewski took place, singularly enough, under the auspices of what is most exclusive and purest in the aristocratic society of Paris. It was as if it were a watchword among the most sought-after ladies of the Faubourg Saint-Germain to give the most benevolent welcome to the young man whose features were strikingly reminiscent, but with a pleasant and gentle physiognomy, of those of a famous mask. The first of these was the one who was to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be of a man who was not a man of the world. He let the most haughtiest women, those who were about to consider themselves the prettiest or the wittiest, put themselves to the expense for him, either of brilliant toilet or of beautiful spirit, each one according to the means of seduction which suited her best. Thus, every evening in the fashionable salons, there was a real race to the bell tower between a learned marquise... who affected to speak to each ambassador the language of her country and a beautiful duchess [it seems to be the duchess de Guiche] who was then in Paris the type of the sovereign elegance. Between these ladies the bets were open and the chances seemed doubtful, Walewski taking care to share equally between them his discreet attentions...”

A cloud rises however on the horizon. Pozzo di Borgo, the Russian ambassador, a Corsican who had been in the service of the tsar, pursued with a Corsican hatred all that was Bonaparte. He asks for the extradition of Walewski, this "rebel, fugitive from the Russian Empire". By order of Charles X, who doesn't like Pozzo, Villele, on the eve of leaving the ministry, refuses it. Walewski could stay in France on condition that he avoided official circles and made himself forgotten.

Life is very pleasant in these last years of the Restoration. Lady Blessington has left us a pleasant picture of the society of the time. The manners are ceremonious and the young people surround the old women with delicate attentions, whether it is a flattering silence when the beautiful ones of the past are remembered or a lively eagerness to render them small services: handkerchief, bouquet or fan picked up, shawl placed on cold shoulders. France is the paradise of old women, especially if they are witty, England is the purgatory, says the Englishwoman without ambiguity. The amorous intrigues are discreet, hidden from the public, and those whose affair is best known affect the most reserved manners. Hypocrisy perhaps, but the Parisian world takes on an air of dignity and decency.

Once a week, the women of quality open their salons to a circle of intimates who meet like-minded people every evening in a friendly house. Small closed coteries, where strangers are not admitted. For them, balls, dinners and parties in full dress. For the regulars, the amiable negligence of the half-clothes and the free, unceremonial chat. “Yesterday I went to a small party at Madame de Jumilhac's [a sister of the Duke of Richelieu] where Walewski served as my introducer," said the Pole Andre Kosmian on November 7, 1829. “Without being rich, she received three times a week the flower of the Parisian world. Her small salon is only open to ten or twelve people at a time. It is very difficult to be admitted. I owed this favor to Walewski who is the gate child of these ladies."

Walewski likes this refined society as much as he likes it. He is linked with the due de Chartres. They are tall, one dark, the other blond, they look alike and for three winters they never leave each other. Walewski also met Thiers at Madame de Flahaut's house: their friendship will never be denied. He finally met Morny, the son of Flahaut and Queen Hortense. "They are both of distinguished and graceful manners, without support, gifted with an air as it should be which is in them as a native gift... "

Lady Blessington, a very good judge, noted in 1829: "The more I see Count Walewski, the more I like him. He has the spirit, intuition and perfect manners. I have always considered it a good sign for a young man to like the society of old people and Count Walewski marks the preference for men of age to be his father."

When the count d'Orsay and the due de Guiche create in 1828 the circle of the Union, Walewski joins one of the first. He found there many Englishmen, Lord Granville, the English ambassador who had married a sister of the Duke of Devonshire and whose son was to be a minister in 1852. Caradoc, the future opponent of Walewski in La Plata, Normanby. He also met Talleyrand... There is a lot of talk about horses, it is a passion of the time and also a fashion. The races begin to be very popular at the Champ-de-Mars and at the Bois de Boulogne. Walewski goes there with assiduity. He runs and plays...

“In the meantime, I attended horse races for the first time in my life," Kosmian said in November 1829. Unfortunately, they ended in a way that was unpleasant for Walewski, because Walewski was always doing crazy things, throwing money out of the window. In England and here in Paris, he lost at cards up to a hundred thousand francs. Having stopped on the slope, he no longer plays cards, but, which amounts to the same thing, he plays at the races. There is a very rich Englishman here, Lord Seymour [Milord l'Arsouille], who lives only for horses and for whom betting on races is a passion. He is the one who is constantly pestering poor Walewski. Last Saturday, they had only two, each on his own horse. Walewski rode an English racehorse; Seymour a hunting horse; but Walewski had to carry sixty pounds more! Everyone who knew anything about racing said in advance that Walewski was making a fool of himself and that he would lose. He wouldn't listen to anyone - and lost. The stake was five thousand francs. He has seventy-five thousand pounds of income; what a comfortable and pleasant life he could lead. Perfectly well seen in the world, universally loved... But one has to tell him the truth... he doesn't want to hear anything until now. It is a great pity because what a good and noble nature it is and of how much pleasure in society ... "

The year 1829 had been cheerful, the beginning of the year 1830 is not less. On February 9 a great masked ball was organized by Mrs. Alexandre de Girardin in the concert hall of the rue Taitbout. Mme. Alfred de Noailles intrigues during one hour Rodolphe Apponyi, the king of the cotillion leaders; on the other hand, he recognizes at first sight the princess of Lieven and both of them go in the box of Walewski so that they intrigue their turn.

Alexandre is twenty years old on May 4, 1830. He is a man. Will he continue to waste his life in frivolity, thinking only of the world, of women, of races, of gambling? Does he forget the hopes cherished by his mother, does he remember that his father wanted him to be a soldier? Will he, who is free, get bogged down in the pleasures of Paris like the Duke of Reichstadt, he who is a prisoner, in the soft life of Austria? Will the sons of Napoleon be only dandies?

Walewski was a calm observer of the Three Glorious Years, and the return of the tricolor flag, which his father had flown in Vienna, Berlin and Moscow, did not arouse any echo in him. Polish by mother, Polish by heart, Polish by nationality if not by language (1), only the tocsin of Warsaw is going to move him, to awaken him suddenly.

(1) Walewski was not fluent in Polish. Joseph Tanski tells that when he came to London in 1854 to talk to the ambassador about projects he did not wish to see revealed, he offered to speak Polish to Walewski, the valet being present in the room. The latter refused, admitting that he could not sustain the conversation.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Milk

A/n: This was not requested but I hope you feel better piper <3 I love you! This is for you :) (This is not thoroughly edited like always)

Tag List: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​ @leggomylino​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert​ @hoes4hoseok​ @yangomangos​ @jeonqqin​ @geminirules​ @crscendoforsung​ @mrsunshine999​ @jisungsjheekies​ @hannie-squirrel00​ @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @skzwriternet​

Warnings: just fluffy shy seungmin

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After moving into a apartment building, Y/n finds a new friend in the stray cat in the alley behind her. She doesn’t realize someone has been admiring her kindness to the animal from afar. Sometimes a small act of kindness leads to a happiness that can last a life time. 

Genre: fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, neighbor!au, fem reader

⋇

Living in a tiny rundown apartment building was not my first choice. Nor was it my second or third or fourth or fifth or two hundredth. But being a struggling student living on my own for the first time didn’t leave me with many other options. The room was cheap and had all the amenities I needed. There was a bus line to the college only a short walk away. An added bonus was the fried chicken place just a few blocks away from the building. 

But, the heating often cut out. My landlord was less than kind. The couple living above me procreated like rabbits and the ceiling did nothing to muffle the noise. The neighbors next door were quiet for the most part. I had yet to meet the tenants in the rooms on either side. 

With the spring semester just around the corner, students flocked to the class registers. Spots filled up quickly leaving me with early morning classes. What a bummer. I was not the biggest morning person. I preferred to stay up at night and sleep until I physically couldn't anymore. 

Sleepily pulling my shoes on, I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door. The sun had just risen and a still orange pink glow was cast over the small cramped street. A small sound had me turning my head towards the alley next to my apartment building. 

Having a few minutes to spare before my bus arrived, I peeked around the corner searching for the sound. Just as I was about to turn around, a cat peeked its head out from behind the building’s dumpster. It slinked around the metal container, its thin body shifting from side to side as it walked. 

“Hi, there little guy!”

Slowly and carefully I approached the stray. It had spotted gray and white fur practically clinging onto its bones. It watched me with fear in its dull blue eyes. The small creature flinched as I reached out my hand for it to smell. It eyed me for a few moments before backing away and hiding under the dumpster. 

“Okay bud...that’s okay. When I come back I’ll bring you a little treat!”

As I was walking away, a sound from above made me jump. Looking up I saw a window on my story close, long slender fingers pulling it in. Thinking nothing of it I turned around and made my way to the bus stop. In my mind I made a mental note to pick something up to give to the little cat in the alley. 

⋇

The shop bell rang as I exited the establishment. It was already beginning to get dark and the streetlights were casting a yellow golden glow in circles on the cramped street. Plastic bag in hand I walked back towards home, the scent of fresh fried chicken floating up to my nose. 

As I approached the building instead of going in I walked passed and turned down into the alley. The street lamp cast a small glow allowing me to see through some of the dark shadows. 

“Here kitty kitty! Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Hearing a can roll across the pavement I saw the thin feline emerge from under the trash container. Its ears twitched and its nose rose in the air smelling the fried food I carried. Crouching to its level I stayed in the lightest part of the alley and pulled out a piece of the fried chicken I had picked up only a few minutes ago. 

Intriguided by the food, the cat slowly inched its way to the oustretched snack. It sniffed the chicken before it’s pale pink nose brushed over my finger taking in my scent. Staying perfectly still I let it nibble on the chicken for a moment. “You’re too cute.” Seeing the cat begin to struggle with the food, I pulled it back and starting tearing it into pieces for him. 

“What should I call you little guy?” 

The cat’s fear of me seemed to have disappeared as he snacked on the chicken. Hesitantly, I reached out and stroked his head only receiving a tiny flinch from the animal. “You’re quite small aren’t you?” The cat continued to eat the chicken with vigor. Grabbing a bottle of water and a paper plate from the restaurant, I poured some for the cat to drink. “How about Makki?” 

The gray cat already looked much happier than when I had first seen him this morning. As I reached out to stroke his fur, he did not flinch away. “Do you like chicken Makki?” He let out a gravely meow before turning back to his grand meal. 

My fingers felt the grooves of his ribs as I pet his side. I smiled feeling Makki’s rough tongue over my other hand. My attention was dragged away from the cat when I heard the scuff of a shoe not far away. At the entrance of the alley looked a boy maybe my age. His body faced the building but his eyes stayed trained on me over the black mask he wore. 

His shaggy brown hair had a golden glint under the street light. His hands were tucked firmly in his jean pockets giving him a cold sort of look. Lifting my hand from Makki’s back I shyly waved to the boy. As if he came out of a trance, the boy walked away from the alley on his resumed path. 

Choosing to ignore the awkward encounter (I admit that it would be weird to see a girl just sitting in an alley with a cat), I watched Makki finish off the pieces I tore. He rubbed up against my legs and let me scratched his ears. 

“Okay, Makki! I’ve got an essay to write. I’ll bring you some breakfast tomorrow, okay buddy?” With a sad meow, he tried to follow me out of the alley but sat at the entrance and watched me walk into the building.  I watched him list his head from the alley and gave him a little wave goodbye before going in for the night.

⋇

After a few months of taking care of him, Makki was basically my own. Every morning and every night without fail I would stop by and spend time with Makki. When I could afford it, I brought him chicken. He seemed to always love that. 

As finals inched closer, I couldn’t see him as much as I wanted to. Studying took up most of my nights and I was forced inside my tiny apartment, headphones only half blocking out the noise from the faulty pipes and my upstairs neighbors. 

One night I glanced over at the clock seeing it was only 10:00 pm. “I have some left overs I’m sure Makki would like.” Aware that I needed a break, I got up and stretched before heating up some leftover dinner for my little cat. Slowly he had gotten to a healthy size and I could no longer see his ribs under his spotted gray and white coat. I didn’t have to keep feeding him, but Makki seemed like my only friend as of late. 

Grabbing a bowl and filling it with water I ventured downstairs and into the lobby. A slightly familiar face was entering the building doors, keys in hand. He looked up, our eyes meeting. Those dark, almost black, eyes looked familiar, reminding me of a puppy. The brunette’s eyes widened in recognition seeing me. The boy from the street. He had a handsome face, the light locks highlighting the angles and tone of his features. In all honesty he was more than likely the most handsome man I had ever seen. 

He looked me up and down before his soft eyes fell onto the dishes in my hand. When his eyes returned he gave me a small smile and a hesitant wave. Without another word he walked past me up the stairs. 

Using my shoulder to open the door, the cool spring night air greeted me. My shoes scraped against the downhill pavement as I turned the corner into the alley. To my surprise, Makki sat in the middle of the backstreet, drinking from a saucer full of milk. Beside the bowl was a plate with little pieces of fried food. Inching closer, I saw it was fish. 

Someone had already fed him.

“Hey, buddy!” Makki greeted me with a friendly meow brushing up against my legs. “Looks like someone already fed you, huh?” I asked in confusion. No one had ever shown interest in him before. Why had they started to take care of Makki now?

Pursing my lips, I set down the dishes and watched Makki eat and drink, petting him occasionally. “Their supper is a little but better than mine, huh?” He only responded my digging in more to the fish. “I’ll bring you chicken next time, Makki.” I watched him eat the food before the slender cat climbed into my lap, begging for me to pet him. 

It was getting late and Makki was practically falling asleep in my lap. I had already asked my landlord if I could bring him inside, but Mr. Kwon hated pets. Carefully putting Makki on the makeshift bed I had made him out of a thrown out chair, I brushed myself off before looking at the mostly clean dishes on the ground. 

Logically, whoever fed Makki would have to come back for the dishes. Finding a semi clean piece of paper and grabbing the pen in my pocket I wrote a little note to the kind soul who helped out my little cat. ‘Thank you for taking care of Makki! It means a lot. - Apt.306B’. Placing the note in the dry milk saucer, I left the alley to go back to my essay. 

⋇

For the next few nights every time I went down to fed Makki, a bowl of milk and usually a small plate of food was already there. Curiosity eating me up, I decided to catch Makki’s mystery feeder. 

The next night, forgoing my term paper, I parked myself at my window overlooking the alley. Finally the sun went down and I watched from my slightly air conditioned perch for the kind soul feeding my feline child. Just as I was losing hope a head of light brown hair rounded the corned into the back alley, a bowl of milk in hand. 

“I GOT HIM! YES!” I cheered. “I got you! I got you!” I sang dancing around. Rushing out the door, I took the stairs two at a time just to burst out the lobby doors onto the street. Out of breath but with a smile I rounded the corner, hand holding me steady on the brick wall of the building. 

“So it was you!” I said happily, scaring the boy crouched down next to Makki. Those same dark puppy like eyes looked up at me in surprise. He seemed at a loss for words, frozen, long slender fingers over over the cat’s head. “I never would have guessed! I mean that day in the lobby, maybe, but it just didn’t cross my mind.” 

The boy continued to stare at me, less in shock now, but the expression I could not decipher. “Um...I’m from apartment 306.” I smiled seeing Maki next to the boy drinking the white treat. Giving him a kind smile, I reached out my hand for him to shake. 

Shyly, he took my hand and shook it. “Yeah...I know.” Under the yellow glow of the street light I looked over his handsome features once more. “I’m...uh...I’m 304.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. After all this time, this was how I met my next door neighbor. “Finally I get to meet you. I’ve been wondering who was living next door.” The boy seemed to relax, letting out a small laugh. “What’s your name?” 

He seemed surprised as I moved to sit down next to him. Makki climbed into my lap and on instinct I started scratching his ears. ��Seungmin, Kim Seungmin. And you?”

“Y/n L/n.” 

I laughed as he awkwardly moved to shake my hand again. “He’s really a good cat.” Seungmin said petting Makki’s gray fur. I nodded and turned to see Seungmin already looking at me. 

“Why did you start feeding him by the way?”

The handsome boy shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is going to sound way creepy. I swear it was a coincidence.” Urging him to continue with a smile, I continued stroking Makki’s head. Occasionally my arm brushed up against Seungmin’s as it moved. “I actually saw you from my window. Then we ran into each other on the street that night.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question Seungmin.” I would be lying if I said that his smile didn’t make my heart skip a beat. It melted even more seeing him pet the almost sleeping cat in my lap.

“Yeah about that.” His long finger reached up and scratched his brow before returning to Makki’s ears. “That night I just thought you were really, really pretty. I liked seeing how kind you were to the cat and watching you play with him.” His hand accidentally brushed mine and his cheeks reddened. They darkened even more when I didn’t pull away.

“Go on,”

“One day you stopped coming. I figured something came up because you cared about the cat so much. So, I just tried feeding him. I got scratched more than a few times in the beginning.” Seungmin laughed, instinctively rubbing his arms where Makki must have nicked him. “Eventually he warmed up to me and I saw why you loved him so much. Then you left me that note. It was by far the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Well you certainly are not what I expected to find when I wanted to search for Makki’s secret milk source.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever bought so much milk.”

The two of us laughed and continued to sit and talk in the alleyway. “Thank you again, for feeding him while I had term stuff.” Seungmin shrugged and looked over at me. 

“It was nothing.” It was hard to stifle the laugh at his attempt of being nonchalant. “You know, I could talk to Mr. Kwon about letting you bring Makki into the building...” 

My eyes widened and I instinctively hugged my cat to my chest. “Really! You would do that? Wait- how would you even do that. That man has zero soul. Like no soul at all. Completely soulless.”

He chuckled at my joke, brown hair blowing gently in the night breeze. “I have my ways. If I do...would you do something for me?” His bright smile lit up the night watching me nod excitedly. “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

Seungmin seemed to hold his breath waiting for my answer. “Are you asking me or are you saying that is your condition for talking to Mr. Kwon?” Seungming squinted his eyes and looked off into the distance for a moment in thought.

“Oh.....you’re right.......You will have dinner with me tomorrow.”

“Woah, slow down there, buddy. I barely know you!” 

“Arrrrghhh,” Seungmin groaned covering his face and lying on the cement in frustration. I couldn’t help but laugh at his vexation. “Why is asking you out so hard?”

“I’m just teasing. Of course I’ll get dinner with you.” With a sigh of relief, Seungmin sat up with a smile. “With a face like that who spends that much milk money on someone else’s cat, how could I not want to go out with you?” Seungmin helped me up from the ground, holding onto my hand even when I was standing. 

“Good. Cause I was very nervous you’d say no.”

“Look at me. I’ve fallen for the milk man,” Seungmin groaned at my terrible joke but kept out hands intertwined as we walked back into the building with Makki under my arm. I had never been filled with more joy than in that moment. 

⋇

Masterlist

[nyullm2020]

A Day in the Life - NYU Law edition

I am blatantly stealing this idea from my fellow LLM Guide blogger at Berkeley, Nathaniel - but thought it might be helpful for those wanting to see what a day is like here in New York at NYU! This is a Thursday.

Morning

8:00am - wake up, lay around for a bit and feel deathly dehydrated from the built-in radiators in my building 😅There’s a blue sky today, but it is very deceptive - it’s cold!!

8:30am - make breakfast, usually a smoothie, cereal or avocado toast with a fried egg. Make my bed to feel minimally productive as well.

9:00am - Finish off my Constitutional Law readings before my 11am class and make my case briefs (with the facts, holding, dissents, etc for each case). I am very on top of readings for this particular class because my (excellent) professor, Melissa Murray, has a cold-calling system where she calls on people for detailed case-specific questions and hypotheticals without any advance notice. It’s a lot of work, and it probably takes me at least 3 hours to prepare for each of my 2 weekly Con Law classes - but it’s such a great subject taught by a fabulous professor, and I like being challenged to keep up.

10:00am - do an online core workout class through Zoom on the NYU Recreation website - I am much more motivated to do a scheduled class than to fit in a Youtube video, although I miss going to a real gym! A lot of my friends have started going to a cheap gym nearby, Blink, so I might join too.

11:00-1:00pm: Con Law class online with 110 other students. I don’t get called on, but I did volunteer at one point 😃At the moment, we are learning about fundamental rights protection under the Due Process Clause and Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment (protecting individual rights from undue interference by the States). We have just started on the right to procreate and the right to abortion before fetal viability - so the famous Roe v. Wade and other related cases, like Planned Parenthood v. Casey (1992) were the topics of conversation today. It’s all very fascinating.

Afternoon

1:10pm: Go pick up a coffee (latte) nearby from one of my favorite local spots, like Banter, Citizens of Bleecker, Third Rail or About Coffee. It’s not cheap here, but it’s my daily treat! Make sure to keep an eye out for Cuomo....

1:30pm: Make lunch with whatever I have. If I’m feeling fancy, I’ll make some pasta with chicken, or maybe just avocado toast with eggs. I often go for lunch with another NYU LLM friend too and grab some ramen or sushi.

This was a little cherry tomato, basil and chicken fettucine I made 🤤

Here’s a chicken, kale, roast veg, avocado and feta salad I made the other week for lunch as well. I try to eat sort of healthy at home so I can eat allllll the cheesecakes and pizza when I go out.

2:00-2:30pm: Scheduled 1-on-1 check-in with my Government Anti-Corruption Clinic professor. She is fantastic, and we chat about how the class is going, my internship at the Brooklyn District Attorney’s Office Public Integrity Bureau, and my plans after the LLM. She gives me some great job search ideas.

2:30pm-3:30pm: Try to jam in some last minute reading before my Introduction to Civil Procedure Class on Zoom. This is all LLMs and I usually don’t finish the readings before this class, but there is no cold-calling. Sometimes we get to see our professor’s Welsh Terrier, Monty!

On days when I have less class, like Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I will often go to the library to motivate myself. I’m studying for the MPRE at the end of March (Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam, a component of the NY and California Bar exams), so I need all the motivation I can get!

When I go on campus, I have to complete one of these daily Covid screeners on my phone, and check my temperature with an NYU-provided themometer. Also, don’t forget your student card!

Night

5:30-6:00pm: Zoom call with a Litigation Attorney from my country as a bit of networking. I have a lot of these, and hopefully one will pay off in the form of a job opportunity! She was lovely - I found her through a bit of old-fashioned LinkedIn stalking. Send her my updated resume, and she sends me an email back and some study notes for the bar exam.

6:00-7:00pm: I have a witness preparation session with my ‘co-counsel’ student partner, Jessica (a JD student), and two undergrad pre-law students from NYU for my upcoming simulated trial for my Advanced Trial Simulation class, starting this coming Monday (spanning over two weeks). We run them through the direct examination questions we have drafted as they are playing the role of our lay witness and expert cardiologist witness, as well as cross-examination prep, and our case theory generally. I have a lot of work to do before I am ready to give our opening statement on Monday night, but it’s coming together!

7:00pm-8:30pm: Grocery shopping at a cute grocery store nearby. I love looking at all the freshly made pastas! I made a burnt butter ravioli with walnuts, pumpkin, spinach and sage, but forgot to take a photo of it - so here is all the fresh pasta and then some salmon I made the other week!

9:00pm- too late: Finish off some small tasks and face-time my good friend back home. She’s just moved to the beach, and I’m very jealous. Plan out my day for tomorrow, waste time on social media, hang out with my boyfriend after he finishes work for the day, and then relax before bed!

Let me know what you would like to see here next!

[metaldragoon]

2020 wasn’t that bad of a year for me.  I had to make a couple sacrifices; no basketball and no swimming, but otherwise my life was pretty un-disturbed.  I wasn’t able to visit my family but I don’t even have a good relationship with them so “missing holidays” with them also meant “not having extreme anxiety about not being a disappointment.”  I like going out to eat at restaurants and obviously couldn’t do that either, but it also meant “you have a lot of money saved up now.”  So I don’t even consider either of those negatives.  Swimming is a bummer though, I had a bit of an ambition to start triathlon training and I really suck at swimming.  My goal was 750m in 10 minutes, but it was a struggle to even swim 750m a day and it’d take me about 20 minutes.  I think I was down to like 17 or 18 minutes when the pool closed down but I still had a long, long way to go.  My best friend is a lifeguard and he said 10 minutes isn’t that hard, and while he’s obviously a little detached from what a normal swimming time is for an untrained swimmer, I was mind-blown by him doing 50m in 25 seconds with literally never trying to time himself once in his life.  750m 10 minutes is also the minimum requirement to be a lifeguard where he works he said, so that’s why I made it my goal.  But that will take a little while longer before I can ever get back in to it.  Transitioning to the subject of basketball, I used to play quite a lot in my youth and as a 6′5″ guy with some good athleticism you know I don’t need any sort of skill to still be good.  But having the knees of an 80 year old make it an issue with basketball being like the most loading-all-your-weight-directly-in-to-your-knees sport in the world.  I believe it was around 2014 when I stopped playing in leagues and this year I was planning on reuniting with my old high school friends to enter some tournaments this year and terrorize northern BC and AB.  I’m not as explosive any more so I was hoping to hit the gym and work on my outside shot ‘cause I at least know I will always be a good defender with my size and intelligence, and I went to one single pick up game this year, the same night Rudy Gobert tested positive for COVID.  It went okay, I had 0 stamina and even trying to rebound a basketball felt awkward much less lining up a jump shot, and then the guys I met up with were like “okay that’s the last game of the year” and I haven’t been able to ball since.   But there was a decent amount of positives.  I rolled through year 3 of my marriage and I think it’s going pretty swimmingly.  No children yet though I’d still like some, but every year I kind of keep thinking “wow I’m so much more knowledgeable and in a more stable position in my life, thank god I didn’t introduce a child in to my previous environment.”  Not that I’m a toxic shithead where no child can thrive, but I just think the more I wait the more super-father I can become.  It’s always been like a life ambition to be a parent for me, like it felt important that my life is incomplete if I’m not able to do this and a lot of that also meant procreating and y’know, my child being a tall white quarter scottish/norweigan infant, but I’ve definitely been coming around to adoption and now don’t really care about having a child who has the same genetic information as me.  I guess that’s all I have to say for now, wife and I are still discussing it and I’m sure it’ll be a few years, but, just a change of perspective I’ve had. I hopped back on to my Tetris grind recently as I’ve had four weeks off of holidays all packed in to the end of the year, I think it’ll be a trend that continues, but I don’t know for sure or anything.  I made sort of a break through in controls that helped optimize my play a lot, and just last week I was able to get PBs in APM and 20/40/1000 line sprints from about a year and a half ago, so I’ve already adjusted to the changes that took me a while to get used to.  My 20 and 40 line times are 30.626 and 60.708 seconds which is a little frustrating how close I am to clearing those rounded number milestones, but that’s a goal for 2021 I suppose.  I could probably break them right now but just haven’t gotten lucky.  I question if my fingers can really get any faster though, I think hand speed is a hard thing to develop as an old man, but world record is almost 4x faster so at the same time it’s a little foolish of me to think I’m near any sort of physical limit. My other last tangible success is running.  I haven’t run since mid November because of winter in Edmonton ain’t worth it to me, I literally took all my holidays in winter simply for the sake of not having to drive to work as often.  But yeah, I was definitely in the best running shape of my life.  I’d been tracking my PRs all year, I’ll just quickly list them 100m: 13.8 200m: 33.3 400m: 1:08 800m - 2:48 1000m - 3:31 1 mile - 6:19 2 mile - 13:23 5K - 21:12 10K - 43:36 15K - 1:13:58 10 mile - 1:19:29 20K - 1:38:54 Half Marathon - 1:44:04 A lot of these I didn’t particularly work on setting, they just happened to get recorded by my watch while I was running longer distances.  I’m not a sprinter at all as my times clearly indicate, I think anything under 1KM times are all pretty accomplishable by anyone who wants to work on them.  I used to be run low 12 for 100m but I think I’m too old for that these days, the 200m was literally the first time I ever ran it, I just was never interested back when I was in track as a kid, 400m is kind of disappointing too because I was running 1:21 when I was 10 years old and I’ve only managed to shave 13 seconds off.  800 was just on the way to some other run so I don’t even really count it as a time, I think I could have definitely been 2:35 if I tried.  3:31 for the 1KM I did once to try and pace my friend for 3:45 and then I sprinted the last 200m so I coulda been quicker there, 1 mile I never attempted to run but I really wanted to get sub 6 minutes, I think I could but I’m not sure why I never attempted to run one.  2 mile is something I actually did run a lot, my neighbourhood is 2.5 KM, 3.2 KM is 2 miles, so I would quite often run it in the morning.  My ultimate goal for a pace is 4:12/KM so once I hit that with my 2 mile run (4:10/KM pace) I didn’t push it further.  5KM and 10KM were both done on track where I actually spent the few surrounding days prepping for my run and are the two I’m proudest of, particularly the 10 KM, and the longer distances were all just set while I was trying to run a half marathon.  My goal is an hour and a half for the half marathon, so while 14 minutes doesn’t seem extremely far it still is quite tough for me, I need to shave 45 seconds every KM 21 times in a row.  I signed up for my first half marathon since 2014 for September 2021.  My official PB is only 1:51 so I’m already better than I ever was, but I hope to train all year to shave off that last 14 minutes.  My tangible improvement on a weekly basis with running was pretty comforting for my mental health.  29 has always been the age of physical peak for men, everything beyond is a decline until the end, but I never really felt plateaued throughout this year.  I ran over 1200 KM last year, the last half of the year I was going for 50KM a week which I’m hoping to keep up again this year while also pushing even further as long as my body can hold up.  I still get a lot of stingy injuries that cause me to miss a couple days here or there, but for the most part it went pretty well.   Uh, I don’t even know what the point of writing all this was I guess.  Just wanted to share that I continued to progress in life, which I guess is the only purpose I have in life, continue to better my life, and I can definitely say I’m better now than I was a year ago, and looking forward to continue an upward trajectory for 2021.  Happy New Years.

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (26)

Author’s Note: Happy New Years! I realize that it has been a LONG time since I have updated this story. The school year has been an absolute killer. Not to mention that I am also working on my master’s degree and taking a ton of classes this summer.

In regards to this chapter, I ended up running out of time and decided to cut it in half due to the coherency of the story and the length. I wanted to give Satou and Isao a bit of a wrap up that does the story justice. However, the good news is that the second half will take less time to be posted. I will definitely be trying to work on this story because I have a LOT planned for it and it’s only just getting to the good parts (one coming up next chapter.) For my patient readers, this will be good news to you. For those who aren’t patient, hoping you’ll stick around to read J

Also, next to Naruto, reading and writing are my passions and my New Year’s resolution is to encourage more people to read. I created an Instagram account called read_with_rich where I will be posting about high-interest books in order to encourage non-readers to read by using the social media platform that can introduce people to books without them going to libraries or book stores (which they won’t if they don’t already read.) Give me a follow if you are interested!

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

Chapter 26: Monsters

There was a sharp mix of pungent smells permeating the air around them as Sasuke looked over Sakura’s shoulder at a particular herbalist book. His friend was sitting at a table in the center of the greenhouse, flipping through the Sunagakure plant log, scratching down a list of all the ingredients she would need to create the military ration pills.

When Sasuke commented on the smell, Sakura replied with “You get used to it.” And then she went into a detailed explanation of why plants even created all sorts of different smells--why many flowers had sweet aromas, but other plants had fouler scents. Sakura elaborated that it all had something to do with procreation. Something about bugs being attracted to them in order to spread pollination. She even went into the genetic purposes of tastes in plants. Sasuke listened with genuine interest at the wide variety of facts that she possessed.

Sasuke turned and leaned against the table as she spoke, tucking in his chin to his chest and closing his eyes. When he was sure she was distracted, Sasuke peeked at her between the lashes of his right eye. He noticed that her brow was furrowed as she searched for the plant she had written down. After a few minutes of this, she began to tap the end of the pen against her bottom lip, a subconscious behavior many people did while thinking. Sasuke couldn’t help but realize that he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone’s small habitual behaviors in the past few years except for in battle scenarios. To watch the cogs spinning in Sakura’s mind, had Sasuke feeling like he had missed out on much in the last several years.

After another few seconds, Sakura explained her concern: “I’m going to have to find a substitute plant for the medicinal aspects of the pills. Sunagakure doesn’t grow Tikasia in abundance here. The amount that I would need would deplete their entire reserve.”

Sasuke considered her word for a few seconds before his eyes narrowed a fraction when the door of the greenhouse opened. A white-coated man with sandy colored hair beamed hugely and raised his hand in greeting as he entered. “There you are, Sakura-san. I’ve been looking for you!”

Sakura broke from her deep concentration and turned from the table as she picked up on the calling. Sasuke raised his eyebrows slightly at the familiar tone the young man used. This must be a staff member from the hospital, a colleague that was working closely with Sakura while she was here. His presumption was confirmed when Sakura returned both the smile and call.

“Sorry Mako! Hope you haven’t been looking for too long.”

Mako?What-- are they on a first name basis or something? Sasuke pondered with a frown of disapproval.Sakura barely knew him, or at least, that’s what Sasuke thought. At least Makohad the decency to add the proper honorific to her name. Not that Sasuke could be the one to lecture on the topic.

The young physician made his way over to them and immediately offered a respectful bow to the both of them. Sasuke was never very good at returning these customs of respect, but after a minute of awkward staring, the Uchiha nodded his acknowledgement in a very uncaring sort of way. After bowing, the medic immediately turned to Sakura and glanced at her work on the table.

“Are you creating another medicine?” Mako asked, crossing his hands behind him in consideration, boldly reading the list she had compiled next to the herbal catalog.

Seeing her co-medic’s interest, Sakura picked it up and handed it to him while simultaneously pushing the book in his direction, an invitation for his opinion.

“You’re just the person I need right now actually.” She explained to Mako how she was creating a batch of military ration pills, a notion at which the male medic’s facial expression turned to one of surprise. Sasuke understood his disbelief; not many people knew how to make such a desired sustenance that tipped the scale in favor of those who consumed it in battle. When bringing up the topic of the ingredients she needed, he raised his thumb and forefinger to his chin, pinching it in contemplation.

Sasuke stiffened slightly when the young man pulled up a seat to sit beside her, pulling the book closer so they could both look at it together. “What about Ashuwa?” he offered, flipping to a plant towards the front of the book. Sasuke peeked over towards the illustration and noticed a shrubby little plant with bright yellow flowers.

“Ashuwa?” Sakura questioned, frowning down at the picture. “That belongs to the nightshade family, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he informed, “but it’s not fatal like many of its other relatives. It’s actually quite safe to consume unless the patient has some sort of allergic reaction to it.”

“That’s interesting. I’m not very familiar with it. What are its properties?”

“It’s a little stronger than Tikasia but more acclimated to our desert climate, so we have plenty of it here. Its primary effect is a boost in brain function. However, we have observed an increase in energy and muscle mass along with it. Some ninja even claim that after consuming it, it relieves them of stress.”

“All that?” Sakura pondered, dropping her jaw.

Sasuke raised an inquisitive brow as well. With benefits like that, it was a wonder they didn’t add it to every meal here. There had to be missing information obviously…

Sakura must have been thinking the same thing Sasuke had, because she immediately responded with. “What are the negative effects?”

Mako smiled at her insight. “Just like Tikasia, you crash and suffer chakra depletion as a result. You have to take far less of it than Tikasia. Like I said earlier, many people have severe allergic reactions to the plant which is why we don’t use it often.”

Sasuke couldn’t help but frown at the pair of doctors who discussed plants so casually with one another. Mako had a sort of charisma about him, and Sasuke could tell why Sakura would rely on him while she was here. The young man’s temperament sort of reminded Sasuke of their old schoolteacher, Iruka-sensei. However, Mako’s knowledge was so thorough that he almost reminded Sasuke of Kabuto; Sasuke had witnessed many in-depth medical conversations between Orochimaru and he.

Still leaning against the table, Sasuke closed his eyes, adopting an uninterested guise to go with the frown. Seeing them together, discussing their common interests, reminded Sasuke of something despite his epiphany last night. Watching her familiarity with this person reminded Sasuke that just because he had finally admitted to himself that loved her, didn’t mean that he should do anything about it. Sakura had told him firmly that she would only ever choose him and to not assume that if he left her alone, she would fall in love with someone else. Sasuke truly believed his female teammate about this. But seeing her cheerfully interact with Mako made Sasuke want to believe otherwise. Even though it stung him to think about Sakura loving someone else and another man being a part of her daily life, waking up beside her and hearing a confession from her lips, Sasuke knew it was what she deserved. He could never be that sort of man for her, especially not in the near future.

But now that Sasuke was certain of his feelings, would he be able to only ever be a close friend to her? Would he be able to watch someone else come into her life and become the person Sakura swooned over and built a family with? He would, Sasuke told himself. He hadto. Sasuke had already chosen in his heart to be the Itachi of this time and make the sacrifice for the greater good so that his loved ones like Sakura even had a future. He had to keep reminding himself of this.

Without meaning to, he let a low exhale of self-defeat escape his mouth. Realizing he had done so, Sasuke quickly glanced to his right to make sure no one noticed.  Sakura, who Sasuke now noticed had stopped what she was doing, was now watching him despite the fact that Mako was still flipping through the book and explaining something to her.

His kunoichi teammate locked gazes with him, furrowed her eyebrows, and tilted her head in silent question. Sasuke broke their eye-contact immediately and Sakura returned her attention to Mako. It’s for the best, he thought to her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Mako lead Sakura across the greenhouse to the white-labeled bushel of Ashu that he had spoken to her about. She measured out the amount she would need and began cutting it carefully with his assistance. Sakura had been surprised at this substitute that Mako had offered with certainty at its effectiveness. She pinched a sizable piece of it and placed it on her tongue and began to chew. With it being a nightshade after all, she wanted to be certain that it wasn’t toxic. Nightshades were highly cultivated by humans and most were safe to consume like Mako said, but since she had never heard of this plant and it was unfamiliar to her, she wanted to double-check Mako’s claim. Besides, he said it could cause allergic reactions.

Just so Mako’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt by her taste-testing, Sakura simply announced, “This actually tastes quite yummy. Much better than the bitter Tikasia.” Then she called out loud enough for Sasuke—who had been casually leaning against the table since their arrival—to hear, “You’re in luck, Sasuke. Maybe these pills won’t taste like ‘mudballs’ this time like Sai famously calls them.”

Sasuke peeked open his right eye at her, clearly not grasping a word of what she was referencing. Mako, on the other hand, laughed at her statement.

“Tikasia israther bitter. Is Sai a friend back home? Your friend really called them ‘mudballs’ to your face?” Mako laughed.

Sakura chuckled to herself a bit, returning her full attention to Mako. “Sai is a sort of special friend. He’s brutally honest; always has been.”

“Sometimes we need friends like that,” Mako said reassuringly, helping her pluck the stems and flowers of the plant and wrapping it up in paper.

Sakura nodded in agreement and instantly recalled many of her friends back home and a sort of homesickness radiated in her chest at the thought of them. She wondered how all of them were doing. She also thought of the hospital and Lady Tsunade in that moment too, and made a mental note to write a letter to check in on them.

She glanced up at Sasuke for the twentieth time that day, and her homesickness disappeared. When he was absent, she was always sick with longing for him. It suddenly surprised Sakura that she had never felt more at home than when she was with this man. She had confessed this to him before, but when he was gone, it felt as if she was alone. Sakura would fall asleep with thoughts of him and miss him just as much the following morning. That feeling had disappeared on her journey and this was the first time the kunoichi had missed someone else since she had picked up her bag and followed Sasuke down the cobbled street that night a few weeks ago.

Mako’s statement returned her to the present moment from her thoughts. “Isao slept well last night. After you left with Gaara, he was distraught and restless after what happened. We ended up giving him your dosage of the sleeping medicine and he didn’t experience any sleep terrors.”

“That’s terrific!” she exclaimed, almost jumping for joy in her excitement. This was exciting news. If they could eliminate the terrors, then Isao would be okay. Maybe he could stop taking the medicine once his body adjusted.

“Satou, his father, however,” Mako began as they made their way back towards the center table towards Sasuke. “Well—he’s a bit hysterical in the hospital. The man definitely needs to be there, but we are not quite sure what to do for him. He’s actually the reason I came looking for you. I figure you might be the only one able to talk to him.”

Sakura nodded as they came to a stop and she set her items down. “I see.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Sasuke had been thoroughly pissed when Sakura had announced to him her plans and handed him the bundle of paper-wrapped yellow flowers. “Will you grind these up for me while I quickly check-in on a patient? They should be dry enough on their own. We need to mix this in with the rest of our batch as soon as possible.”

The Uchiha nodded with a “hm” but had half a mind to shove the flowers and grinder toward Mako since he was inclined to be so damn helpful.

Apparently, she was duty-bound to go see some hospital patient with an attitude problem and Sasuke had guessed easily who it was. After seeing the bruises on her chest last night, it was hard not to think about this patient of hers. It settled like a knife between Sasuke’s shoulder blades as he began to pulverize the flowers in the mortar with the stone pestle. He glowered after the two medics as the door to the greenhouse swung to a shut behind them.

Sasuke knew that Sakura was aware of his eagerness to get the pills so he could return to his mission. And because she predicted this, Sasuke knew without a doubt that Sakura had played him. She had given him this little job to keep him occupied for a few minutes because he couldn’t put the task off. But what shedidn’t know was that it certainly wouldn’t take him as long as she hoped. Sasuke removed another heap of flowers from the paper and began to smash them forcefully.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Sakura had managed to come up with a small plan in the few seconds after Mako had informed her about Satou, Isao’s hysterical father, whom Sakura and Gaara had placed under the care of the hospital yesterday. The first and most necessary part of her plan was to keep Sasuke busy and away from her patient. After seeing her teammate’s reaction to the small bruises on her chest last night, she didn’t want the two ninja to have the least bit of interaction.

The second part was to ensure that Isao was kept far, faraway from his father. If the child was showing any progress at all after having distance from him, then Sakura would be damned if Satou meant to screw that up. Trailing closely behind her, Mako confirmed her hope that Isao remained at the mental health children’s clinic and was being strictly supervised.

Finally, the last rocky bit of her plan was to try her best to remain calm and civil with Satou despite what she predicted his treatment of her would be. Sakura anticipated every bit of an angry temper and possibly aggression.

Having Mako with her made Sakura feel more reassured. In the back of Sakura’s mind, she knew she didn’t have anything to worry about because she could rely on her abilities as a ninja, not his, but it was still a comfort to have him with her as a steady, supportive presence.

When they finally reached Satou’s hospital room and they entered, Sakura gasped. Apparently, Satou had considered this place a prison cell rather than a patient room. The bed was tipped, and the curtain torn from the rod above the windows. The massive punched out crevices in the walls around them were threatening portraits of warning. Sakura heard Mako echo her surprise. Sensing their presence, Satou turned from the window and glowered at them.

“Glad to see my warden has finally come to see me,” the man spat viciously.

While Mako’s expression was one of disbelief, Sakura erased the emotion from her own, slipping on a blank pretense. Forget step three of her plan, then. It was obvious what kind of man Satou was. He had no respect or care in the world for anyone and her kindness would be seen as a weakness to bully her for. Pretending to be civil would be an entire waste of her time because Sakura recognized the hate in Satou’s eyes, glassy pools that reflected the darkness in his heart. How bitter it made Sakura—to see Sasuke’s formal self in one of her patients; how hopeless this conversation would be even though he was the one person who needed it the most.

Sakura believed this man deserved her gentlest persona, but Sakura had tried playing this game before and failed miserably with Sasuke. If Sakura—a former teammate and close friend—couldn’t have reached into the depth of Sasuke’s darkness and rip him from it, then how could she expect to be successful with an absolute stranger? She thought of Naruto and Gaara and how they might approach this. Adopting Naruto’s methods before, Sakurahad fought Sasuke to knock some sense into him, but Sakura couldn’t just go starting fights with her patients.

Confidence then. Sakura crossed her arms behind her back and raised her chin. “I’m not your warden; just someone who is trying to help you and your son.”

He began to laugh—that psychotic pitch that set Sakura’s heart racing. It frightened her to see that this man was more lost than she had thought. This wasn’t just a man who had taken his anger out on his son. “That’s what pisses me off the most about you leaf village filth. You think you have the right to march in and do as you please.”

Mako responded before Sakura could silence him, “Be careful what you say. Haruno-san is an honored guest of the Lord Kazekage and he asked for her assistance at the hospital.”

Well half true. I did invite myself here I suppose. Sakura didn’t correct Mako; Satou was completely prejudiced toward Konoha and its citizens.  She reminded herself to steer clear of the political past between their two villages. Satou’s next comment brought an immediate halt to Sakura’a analytical approach to reasoning with him.

“You’d think the Kazekage wouldn’t give his whores a false sense of entitlement in village they don’t belong in.”

It was hard to contain her inner voice at that moment, who happened to be screaming loudly. WHO THE HELL DOES THIS BASTARD THINK HE IS?

Sakura let out a calming breath and put hand on Mako’s arm who was surprisingly doing a good enough job for the both of them at giving this terrifying ninja a piece of his mind despite the aptitude gap.

Before she could respond, the door opened and someone stepped in. Seeing Sasuke momentarily took her aback because that powder job should have taken him at least 45 minutes to complete, yet here he was a mere 10 minutes after being assigned the task. He must have a question.

And then Sakura saw his face. A red and purple combination flashed towards Satou and Sakura’s stomach dropped to her feet. Had he just heard what Satou called her?

When Sakura reached him and placed a hand on his arm, his gaze snapped from Satou and landed on her. “Did you need something?” she asked kindly, assessing the situation and deciding to act casually. Maybe if she came off as unaffected by Satou’s comment, then Sasuke wouldn’t feel the need to react.

“Here,” he responded gruffly after recovering some composure, shoving the mortar she had given him earlier towards the space between them. “You said you needed this quickly didn’t you? Go on ahead and make the batch. I’ll talk to this guy.”

Sakura briefly savored the startled look on Satou’s face before turning her body towards Sasuke so she could whisper in private with her teammate. “Sasuke, I don’t think that’s—”

“It’s fine,” he softened his murmur to match her whisper. As he said this, his sharingan faded and his emotionless mask slipped back on. “Just a talk between ninja.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” came Mako’s eager voice behind her, “I’ll stay too. You go on ahead and make that batch before time runs out.”

Sakura snapped her head towards him, shaking her head with large eyes in silent begging, but Sasuke was the one who spoke. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You can leave too.”

“He stays,” Sakura volunteered, to which Sasuke glowered at her for. “A doctor must be present during an exam, after all.” This was most definitely not professional, but Sakura had used a “time” excuse to keep Sasuke busy earlier. Mako knew as well as she did that it didn’t matter what time the Ashuwa was added to the mixture, and he was using her lie against her. She didn’t know her friend of a medic could be manipulative like that. Mako knew she didn’t want to tell Sasuke that she had fibbed about it.

Grabbing the mortar, Sakura peered up into the Uchiha’s eyes, reconsidering her fear of the two ninja meeting. If Naruto or Gaara weren’t here, maybe Sasuke was the next best person to talk to him. Now that he had come back to the light, perhaps Sasuke could reach Satou in a way that Sakura wouldn’t be able to. Sometimes people who had experienced trauma would only listen to someone who had shared a similar pain. And it had been proven to her throughout the years that sometimes only monsters could understand monsters.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke waited until Sakura’s footsteps receded far enough down the hall before his eyes locked onto Satou for the second time.

“Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke isn’t it?” Satou inquired, daring to speak first. “I never would have guessed I’d ever see your face again after the war.”

“Good. You know me.” Sasuke announced, fully entering the space and leaning against the right-most wall, just fifteen feet away from Satou in this small room. “Then you’re aware of the terrible things that I have done to better men than you.” To be honest, Sasuke hated to play the reputation card—in fact, he wanted to get as far from his past as possible, but he needed this bastard to know just exactly what he could still do to someone that pushed him far enough.

He noticed Mako shift excitedly at the left of the entrance. Apparently Mako was hoping for a show. Good, Sasuke thought, he needed to hear this too if the male physician had future plans to stay next to his friend.

Sasuke got straight to it. “The truth is that you’re not going to listen to anyone, so this is going to be a waste of time and breath.” Sasuke knew because he had been in this exact same frame of mind before.

“So why bother staying?” the man spat, rage leaking from his mouth like saliva from a rabid beast. Sasuke was correct in his analogy. Like Sasuke himself had once been, Satou was nothing more than a creature that there was no hope left for, and it needed to be taken out of this world. That’s what Gaara had practically told Naruto to do—take Sasuke out and do the right thing as his friend. It’s what Sakura had tried to do and failed.

But Naruto had done the impossible. With memories of his friend in his heart, Sasuke sighed and willed himself to put at least a little bit of effort into this for his friends’ benefit.

“For the sake of the woman you just called a whore. I care more about her and her goal than the few minutes I could be doing something more beneficial than talking to you.”  Of course, he would never tell her that.

Sasuke felt like there was no point in beating around the bush. His voice would give out if he continued talking at this rate. He reminded himself that he didn’t owe any explanation, any psychological nonsense, just the cold truth that Satou needed to hear. Despite how hard he might try, Sasuke wouldn’t be able to pull this off like Naruto. Naruto would have marched up to him like a bull, grabbed his collar, proceed to threaten him for saying such a thing to Sakura, and then somehow miraculously convince this man to change.

Sasuke on the other hand, was less predictable. Depending on which part of his life you looked at, Sasuke could have had several reactions to Satou’s comment. The Sasuke before Orochimaru would have been angry but level-headed, at most offering the man an analytical glare. Sasuke immediately post-cursemark would have gutted him in the same mania he had broken that sound ninja’s arms in the Forest of Death. Vengeance-bent Sasuke would have completely not cared at all. But the Sasuke he was now? Even though he was on his path of redemption now, something in him had become honed again, sharpened along with the internal acknowledgement that he had feelings for Sakura. Despite his accepting of the truth, Sasuke hadn’t anticipated feeling this defensive and this is what scared Sasuke the most about himself—his unpredictability.

When Sasuke had tried to sever his bonds, it was to eliminate the feelings that came with them. He had seen it as a weakness. If his attachments were few, then Sasuke could remain loyal to a way of life he hoped for, one of peace. But having Sakura near again and feeling responsible for her had Sasuke fearing for the worst about his character. He had relayed this concern to Naruto before he left the village several weeks ago. “What will keep me from the darkness? From choosing the path of revenge?” “I will,” Naruto had responded. “I’ll stop you.” If men like this were regular in Sakura’s life, how could Naruto guarantee that Sasuke wouldn’t snap one day and kill every single person who threatened to do her harm? What if one of them succeeded? Could Naruto prevent everything? Stop, Sasuke told himself. Stop thinking like that.

Satou didn’t laugh again for the entire conversation. He remained standing by the window, narrowing his eyes at Sasuke in wary consideration since the Uchiha had arrived—not scared necessarily, but an enemy weighing his odds and deciding to avoid major triggers. Smart, Sasuke thought. Not completely brain dead then.

As Sasuke was consumed in silent thought, Mako stepped in for him. It was the first time all day Sasuke liked the medic. “We know that your wife died. Is that the reason you are abusing your son?”

Unlike with Sasuke, Satou revealed his temper, like a bomb going off without warning. “WHAT I DO WITH MY SON IS NOBODY’S DAMN BUSINESS BUT MY OWN.”

Unaffected by the sudden rise in volume, Sasuke surveyed the damaged room around them. Satou sure made it look like he was being held against his will, but the truth was, Sasuke realized, that if Satou had truly wanted to leave, he would have. There was nobody physically stopping him from leaving. The only thing really holding him here was Gaara’s command. Ah, so that was it. Badmouth the Kazekage all he wanted, Satou still respected one thing and that was power.

Sasuke tested the theory with, “The Kazekage believes it is his business.”

“Everything is apparently his damn business,” Satou growled in his direction.

Sasuke immediately noted that this was not a shouted response like he did when Mako spoke. Sasuke deduced that Satou held enough respect for the people he feared. That included himself. Damn. How annoying; Sasuke was going to have to do all the talking after all. To be honest, Sasuke had just wanted to remove Sakura from the situation and came up with the “talking” part to get Sakura to leave. Now, he supposed he would have to deliver.

Mako tried reasoning with him again: “Does the child remind you of your wife? Is that the reason you mistreat him?”

Satou’s eyes grew wide at Mako’s question. “HOW DARE YOU-“

Forget it. Talking like this was getting them nowhere. Sasuke’s visual prowess was nowhere near restored, but what Sasuke planned to do wouldn’t take up much chakra anyway. This wasn’t his typical style, but trying to talk with this man sure as hell wasn’t his style either. Sasuke revealed the black tomoes of his right Sharingan, instantly immobilizing the man where he stood.

“What are you doing?” Mako asked with concern, walking up beside him. “You’re not going to use a genjutsu?!”

“Just shut up and stay out of it,” Sasuke announced in annoyance. “I am getting the answers.”

Satou’s mind was a black, fiery wasteland that Sasuke stepped out on. The ninja’s memories appeared before him like colorless corpses rising from the grave. Sasuke walked forward toward the past surveying memories in order from most recent to oldest. The first memory that shaped in the air before him had Sasuke considering deactivating the jutsu. Whether he had subconsciously looking for this memory or not, Sasuke didn’t know, but he watched it play out before him. His pink-haired teammate was standing her ground, glaring up into the face of the man whose memories Sasuke violated. Sasuke frowned in hatred at the image of his fingers jabbing into her chest. Satou was looking down at her with a ferocity that he had yet to display towards anyone else. Why?

On cue, another memory emerged, connected to this one and providing Sasuke with the answer he wanted. It was during the war and Satou was immobilized on a cot, bandaged and regaining consciousness. Pink hair came into the ninja’s vision as he tried to roll to the side. “Miss,” he called toward the female ninja. “Where am I?”

“Stay still,” Sakura ordered him, pushing him back down on the cot. “Your leg is severely injured and needs to remain immobile.” She began giving orders to her assistants when a boom suddenly sounded somewhere nearby. Satou watched as she got to her feet and headed in that direction as someone began screaming her name.

“My wife,” he croaked, trying again to rise. This time, no one stopped him as he began to fumble towards the line of patients, some unconscious, others screaming. “Rina,” he sobbed, searching the faces of the incapacitated. “Where are you?”

He finally found her in the back row and he began limping faster toward her. “Rina!” he screamed, falling to his knees beside the woman who was bloody almost beyond recognition. Sasuke looked away from the memory as Satou began searching with hands for the wound on her body. Somehow the woman had reopened her injury and was now bleeding through the bandaging.  When Satou found it, he began to moan. Satou clutched onto his broken wife and lifted her despite his leg. He was barely able to support her as he began limping back toward the medical professionals. “Haruno!” he tried to shout after the woman who had disappeared in the rising clouds of debris and dust. “Haruno!”

When a medic finally arrived to assist him, it wasn’t the one Satou had hoped for. “Please,” he begged them. “She’s dying—bleeding out!”

Sasuke saw the man’s world shatter on his face when the medic began to shake his head after checking the woman’s pulse. “I am sorry sir. She’s already gone.”

“No!” he began to scream, picking up his wife again and limping after the woman he believed could still save her. The memory ended after Satou disappeared into the rubble screaming after someone he clearly never found.

So that was it, Sasuke realized, stepping toward a new memory that materialized in the swirling darkness. He blamed Sakura for his wife’s death.

The next memory Sasuke played was Satou returning from the war and staring into the face of the child he and his wife had left behind. Sasuke was shocked at the resemblance the child held of Rina; Sasuke witnessed Satou experience the blow of pain that came at seeing the same likeness. When the child reached for him with tears in his eyes, Satou turned away from him, covering his anguished face and stepping past the threshold. Isao’s current caretaker reached for him to relieve his father’s neglect.

Sasuke felt like he had ashes in his mouth. He was more familiar with grief than anyone, but grief affected people in different ways. Sasuke both understood and didn’t understand. He didn’t dare go further; Sasuke knew what happened next concerning the child and didn’t want to see it for himself.

Deactivating his Sharingan, Sasuke withdrew from the black backdrop of Satou’s mind.

“What did you just do?” Satou asked, sinking to the floor on his knees and holding his head, an aftereffect that had Mako looking between the two ninja in fearful concern.

Sasuke saw no point in explaining to either of them. Satou was more than aware of what just happened. “I could erase a couple of those memories,” Sasuke explained to the whimpering man on the floor who gazed up at him in anger. “Is that what you want?”

Satou hesitated before saying, “You could really do that?”

“Is that what you really want?” Sasuke asked bitterly, “for someone to reach into your mind and take away all memory of your wife or child? To dishonor the both of them?”

“No,” Satou declared at that. “Not if it will remove them from my memory. The pain— just take that away.”

“Pain is a part of life and not something I can tamper with,” Sasuke deadpanned. “If you let it, your pain will turn into darkness, consume you, and taint every aspect of your life. Your son is the only thing you have left of your wife. You should value that and cling to that as your light.”

Sasuke understood what Sakura meant earlier when she told Sasuke her conversation with Gaara about the past generation affecting the next with their toxicity. Satou didn’t repond and Sasuke didn’t say anything else. He had said what he needed to although it left the Uchiha feeling like a hypocrite.

Turning to Mako, Sasuke declared, “Send the son to the Leaf’s mental health clinic; get him as far away as you can. The child needs to be in a different environment, or he will turn out like father. It’ll give Satou some time to reconsider what’s important to him.”

Opening the door, Sasuke thought twice before exiting. “Also,” he remarked to the man who began to sob on the ground. “The next time you lay your hands on my friend, you’ll have me to deal with, not the Kazekage.”

Satou began to scream in anger, throwing things against the walls again. The door swung shut behind Sasuke and Mako, closing the prisoner in his self-made cell.

[mca-attack21]

Starting to Drive Part 10

Hello, and welcome back to my series! To refresh, this is a reader insert that follows the basic plot of the show. There is no Elena, instead, it is Y/n Gilbert. I hope you guys are enjoying it. Here are the other Parts:  Part 1     Part 2     Part 3    Part 4    Part 5   Part 6    Part 7      Part 8    Part 9

 When you woke up you were in a car, headed down the road. You were confused and your head hurt.

“Good morning” Damon chimed, noticing your movement.

“Damon? Where are we?” you asked not recognizing anything outside the window.

“Georgia” he stated.

“Georgia? No we aren’t. Seriously Damon, where are we?” you questioned.

“Seriously, we are in Georgia” he answered, “How are you feeling?”

You thought about it for a moment, to be honest, you weren’t sure this entire experience felt surreal.

“You don’t have any broken bones, I checked” he added.

“My car. There was a man. In the road, there was a man. He was like you. Who was that?” you ask starting to piece everything together.

“That’s what I want to know.”

“You rescued me and now… no one knows where I am. Where’s my phone? I can’t be in Georgia. Damon pull over the car,” you rambled.

“Oh come on,” Damon tried.

“I’m serious Damon pull over” you demanded.

“You were so much more fun when you were asleep” he rolled his eyes as he pulled the car over.

You went to get out and everything seemed to rush at you, the dull ache and stiffness became predominant, and your dizziness caused you to stumbled. Damon rushed around and was there to steady you in an instant. While he did check for broken bones, he had no way of checking for a concussion or internal bleeding. He was starting to second guess his decision to bring you with him when you pulled him out of his thoughts.

“I’m fine Damon, really,” you spoke standing up a little straighter, “We seriously have to go back. I wrecked my car, people are probably getting worried.”

“Come on Y/n, live a little” he smiled.

“Why are you actually doing this?” you asked sincerely.

“I need to make a stop, we are almost there, and I can have you home in time for bed” he persuaded.

“I don’t know Damon,” you sighed.

“Well allow me to remind you that you are riding in my car, without your magic little necklace I might add. I could very easily make you agreeable,” he said forcefully.

“What are you trying to prove?” you asked feeling vulnerable.

Just then your phone started ringing and Damon fished it out of his pocket. “It’s your boyfriend,” he said as he offered it to you.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” you replied.

“Fine, I’ll talk to him,” Damon smirked.

“Hello, this is Y/n’s phone” Damon spoke.

“Damon? Where’s Y/n? Is she okay? Why do you have her phone?”

“Y/n? She’s right here and she’s fine” Damon answered.

“Where are you? Let me speak to her

“Yeah I really don’t think she wants to talk to you right now,”

“Damon, I swear if you touch her, I’ll-”

“Alright, you have a good day now, goodbye” Damon interrupted before hanging up the phone.

“We have to go back” you mumble more to yourself than Damon.

“Y/n, time out. Take a break from your life for five minutes. Live a little. I can promise you with absolute certainty that all of your problems will be waiting for you when you get back,” he persuaded.

“Am I going to be safe with you?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

Do you promise not to compel me?” you questioned.

“Yes,” he promised.

“Okay,” you agreed.

So the two of you got back into the car and started to drive.

“Where exactly are we going?” you asked.

“There is a witch that I need to visit, she is a bartender in a small town right outside of Atlanta. We’re almost there,” he answered.

“Why do I look like her?” you asked.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Let’s say I am one of her descendants, does that mean I am part vampire?”

“No, vampires can’t procreate, though we love to try” he joked, “Seriously though, if you are related to her it would have to mean that she had a child before she was turned”

“Do you think that Stefan was just using me to replace her?” you asked.

This was Damon’s chance, he could easily turn you against his brother. But instead, he defended him, “You and Katherine are only alike in looks. And I can promise you he never felt for her the things he feels for you,”

“How are you so sure?” you asked.

“Stefan’s entire relationship with Katherine was based on compulsion and lies. With you, it’s real. That is one of the reasons he is so adamantly against using compulsion on you”

“Thanks Damon,” you said sincerely.

Before long the two of you arrived at the bar. Damon got out of the car and you waited.

He went around to your door and opened it, “Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

“It’s a bar Damon, I’m not old enough. They aren’t going to let me in” you said.

“Sure they will, come on,” he said grabbing your hand.

As he walked in, he was almost immediately tackled by a tall woman. She started kissing him and saying how glad she was to see him.

After they broke apart, she apologized to you as if she thought you were with him. She then returned to the bar and made an announcement, “Listen up every one, here is to the man who broke my heart, crushed my soul, ruined my life, and destroyed any chance I had at happiness” she said as she poured shots.

You and Damon both took a seat at the bar, and she set the shots in front of you. Damon was quick to drink both yours and his so no one would notice.

“So how did he rope you in?” Bree asked.

“Oh, I’m not roped in, I’m actually dating his-”

“Honey if you’re not roped, you’re whipped. Either way, you just got to enjoy the ride.” She advised.

“Noted,” you replied.

“So, what is it that you want this time Damon?” she asked.

You were eager to hear what exactly his motives were, but your phone started ringing and it was Jenna.

You went outside and answered it.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked nonchalantly.

“You didn’t come home last night or call,” she lectured.

“I’m sorry I just got caught up with the whole Stefan thing, and then I went to Bonnies” you answered.

“Where are you now? Why aren’t you at school?” she asked.

“I just…I needed a day,” you tried.

She sighed, “Are you safe?”

“Yes”

“When will you be back?”

“Tonight”

“Okay, but just this once. And you should call Stefan he’s come by twice asking about you,” she added.

“Thank you so much Jenna,” you say as you hang up.

You went back inside to find your food was ready. Bree brought Damon a beer and you spoke up, “I’ll have one too.”

Damon gave you a look that you couldn’t read, so you explained your logic, “Five-minute time out remember? I’m just taking your advice and living a little,” you say as she brings you one.’

The two of you clinked your bottles together and drank. You then started talking and eating. Maybe Damon really wasn’t that bad. After the food, Damon and you were about to rack up for a round of pool when your phone rang again. This time it was Stefan, you reluctantly decided to answer it and headed outside.

“Y/n, is that you?” Stefan asked

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“You lied”

“Y/n, I-”

“Oh, so you didn’t lie?” you questioned.

“Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you,” he pleaded.

“How am I related to Katherine?” you questioned

“I honestly don’t know. We’ll figure it out together, just please tell me where you are,” he tried.

“And I am supposed to believe that?”

“It’s the truth, listen I-” he started but you hung up.

You turned around to find Damon staring at you. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Okay is relative,” you answered heading back inside and back to the bar. You had officially decided to get drunk. You wanted to forget even if it was only for a little while.

You waved Bree over and asked for six shots. She brought them over to you and Damon. You then placed four of them in front of you and two in front of him. He gave you a glance as if to say are we really going to do this? You answered, “What happens in Georgia stays in Georgia” and proceeded to down all four shots and dance.

Damon was happy to see you so carefree. He was there to make sure that you were taken care of and that no one would even think about taking advantage of you. He got caught up in a conversation and then Bree asked him where you were. That is when he realized that he hadn’t seen you since he started the conversation. He listened for you, but there was nothing. He went outside to see if you maybe went to the car. And noticed that your phone was laying on the ground.

He walked around back and then heard you scream “Damon, go”. Suddenly the man that had been holding you raced over to Damon hitting him in the knees and soaking him with gasoline. Damon tried to get up, but that only earned him a swift kick to the stomach.

“Why are you doing this?” he struggled. He had absolutely no idea who his assailant was.

“You killed my girlfriend,” the man said as he looked for a match.

By this time, you had made your way down to Damon, but the man warned you to stay back.

“I don’t understand,” you yelled.

“My girlfriend went to visit Stefan and Damon killed her, got it?”

“Lexi? Lexi was your girlfriend?” you asked.

“Yeah she was” he answered kicking Damon again as he tried to get up. He lit the match and was about to throw it when you interrupted him again.

“Lexi loved you and she was good which means you are good. She said that when it’s real you can’t walk away. She wouldn’t want you to do this. Be better than him, I’m begging you.” You cried.

He threw the match on the ground and picked Damon up by the throat and threw him into the wall before running away. You went over to Damon and tried to help him up. After a few minutes, he got up and told you to go wait in the car while he said goodbye to Bree. You agreed. You looked at the phone you were holding and debated whether or not you wanted to call Stefan. You decided that it could wait.

When Damon returned you both started your venture back to Mystic Falls. “So why did you bring me with you?” you asked.

“Come on Y/n, give yourself some credit, you aren’t the worst company in the world,” he joked.

“Seriously?” you laughed.

“I don’t know, you were out there in the road all damsel in distress-like. And I knew that it would piss off Stefan,” he started, but then his tone changed, “And you aren’t the worst company in the world Y/n” he added looking at you intently.

“I used to be more fun” you pout.

“You did alright” Damon assured.

“I saved your life” you gloated.

“I know,” he returned.

“And don’t you forget it” you smirked.

It wasn’t long before the two of you arrived back. Damon went to get your stuff out of your car and have it taken care of. And you were about to walk in to the Boarding house to talk to Stefan. When you entered he seemed so relieved to see you, you could tell that he wanted to run to you and hug you but forced himself to stay put.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“You could have told me,” you started.

“I wanted to tell you” he returned

“You said no more lies, only the truth. As crazy as it is, I can handle the truth. I accept that there are vampires and witches and that this world is far more mysterious than I could ever imagine. But this lie, I can’t handle this lie. What am I to you?”

“You are not Katherine; you are the opposite of everything that she was”

“And how long did it take for you to figure that out? Before you kissed me? Before you slept with me?”

“It was before I met you” he admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“The first day of school wasn’t actually the first time we met. We met on May 23 last spring,” he revealed.

“But that was…”

“The day your parents' car went off the bridge,” he finished.

“You were there?” you questioned.

“Every couple of years I come back here to check on Zak. I was in the woods and heard the accident. I was fast getting there, but not fast enough. The car was already submerged. Your dad was still conscious, but he wouldn’t let me help him until I helped you.”

“Oh my god,” you cried, “when I got to the hospital that had no idea how I made it out of the car. They said it was a miracle.”

“I went back for them, but it was too late. And when I saw your face and the resemblance…. I spent the next two months watching you making sure you weren’t her. I learned everything that I could about you. And I was going to leave town, but I needed to know you. And I wanted to tell you, but you were just starting to be happy again” he explained.

“Why do I look like her?” you asked.

“Y/n, you’ve already been through so much tonight” he tried.

“Stefan, tell me why I look like her” you demanded.

“It didn’t make any sense to me either you were a Gilbert and she was a Pierce. But the resemblance was so uncanny, that I started looking into it. That’s when I found the truth.” He started pausing wishing that he could spare you this.

“What is it?”

“You were adopted.”

You sat down, having just had your entire world crash. “How do you know?” you asked through tears.

“Your county birth record lists your mom, but there was never any record of her being pregnant, there’s no record of her being admitted.

“What else do you know?” you asked pulling your knees to your chest as if trying to brace yourself.

“To go any farther, I would have had to look into the Pierce family and that would be too much of a risk if someone found out I was asking about Katherine. Listen to me, it doesn’t matter, because you are the woman that I love. I love you Y/n.”

You reached up and kissed him. He was surprised but melted into it. When you pulled away, he wrapped his arms around you as you cried into his chest. He wished that he could say something to make it hurt less. You didn’t deserve this. But all he could do is hold you and be there for you until your world made sense again.

After a while you spoke up, “Can you give me a ride home?”

“Sure, but didn’t you drive here?” he asked.

“No, Damon dropped me off. I got into an accident, my car’s totaled. He’s actually having it towed now” you answered.

Stefan wanted to ask you about it but decided that you had gone through enough for one day. He grabbed his keys and led you to his car. He offered to stay with you, but you declined. You loved him, but you honestly just wanted to be alone for a while.

When you walked in Jenna was waiting for you on the couch. “I just got a call from the insurance company saying you totaled your car. Come on Y/n, did you really think you could lie to me about this?” she asked.

“That’s rich coming from you” you rolled your eyes and walked towards your room.

“Oh no, don’t even think about turning this back on me. I’ve done nothing wrong here. So come back here and start talking,” she yelled.

“Oh, so you didn’t know that I was adopted?” you questioned and the look on her face was all the answer you needed.

“I trusted you” you snapped before heading upstairs.

“Your mother was supposed to tell you. I didn’t-” she called after you deciding it was a lost cause for the night.

[stormtrprinstilettos]

“I even let her play my drums.” - (1983)Roger x fem Reader (smut)

Summary: It’s 1983 and Queen is recording their next album at the studio where you work, and things get a little heated between you and the drummer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

In this “episode”: An unexpected visit from your parents, and a decision is made.

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings: smut, age gap (21 vs. 35), (quick) smut, language. 18+ please & thank you

Tagging: @fixedonroger @a19103 @ginabaker1666 @thickthighsandbasicbrowneyes @culturefiendtrashqueen @imaginesandideas @rogertaylorscar @painkiller80 @rogerrhqpsody (Let me know if you want to be added.)

[A/N: This one starts on the same day the last one ended. It will also be the last one for a couple of weeks since I’ll be on vacation, which i’M REaLLY EXciTED ABOUT, but I insist on ideas still being sent in, because I have two 10-hour plane rides coming up which will give me plenty of time to write! And if I don’t know where to go from here, how can I keep writing this story? So go on – after you finish reading, tell me where you think this should go from here, and give me stuff you want to see!]

It was ridiculously hot outside and it was making everyone cranky. To make matters worse, there was a power outage in the area, so the studio was rendered useless. Everyone stuck around for a little while to see if it would come back on, but it didn’t.

Roger gave you a ride home and on the way you both decided that tonight was going to be spent just the two of you again, especially now that there was something pretty important to discuss. He was going to come back around 6 or so after going home and showering, you were going to order pizza for dinner and spend the rest of the night in each other’s company. Simple and quiet - nothing extravagant, absolutely perfect.

You hurried inside so you could jump in the shower, feeling sticky and gross because of all the sweating you’ve been doing for the past 3 hours, only to be surprised when you opened the door. “Hey, Pumpkin,” you’re greeted. “How’s my favorite girl?”

“Dad?” you smile. “And Momma.” You grab them both in for a big hug. You haven’t seen them in almost year since they’ve been traveling, and now here they were, sitting in your living room with their suitcases in the corner. “I’ve missed you guys.” They never popped in unannounced but they wanted to surprise you, and surprise you they did. They were excited to tell you stories of their travels and even brought you some presents. You couldn’t exactly kick them out or ask them to go find another place to stay. They were paying your rent, after all, but you immediately regretted giving them a key.

“We’re only here for a few days,” your mom tells you. “Then we’re headed to Seattle to see your sister.” You groaned internally. Every single conversation that involved your sister as a topic always ended up with you getting nagged for not having a boyfriend, or not being married, or not wanting to procreate and give her grandchildren. “You know, your sister and Chris are…”

“Momma, please,” you sigh as you roll your eyes. “I really don’t want to hear about Sara and her breeding efforts. I talked to her the other day and she told me all about it.”

“I’m just saying!” she starts, smiling and playing with your hair, fixing it like she thinks it should be. “Don’t you want to find a nice guy and settle down and give me grandchildren.”

You started to laugh. “Nope,” you smile. “I’m quite enjoying my life as it is. And you know I never liked nice guys.”

“Leave her alone, Connie,” your dad fusses. “She’s not Sara.” He sits next to you on the sofa and pats your leg. “Y/N is going to live the life she wants. She’s always been our little gypsy.”

Your mom rolls her eyes, knowing what your dad is saying is the truth, no matter how hard she wished otherwise. “I’m going get freshened up,” she tells you, patting your leg and standing up. “We’re taking you to dinner.” Before you can protest, she hurries out of the room.

When she completely disappears, your dad turns to you with a smile on his face. “So who’s the extra toothbrush in the bathroom for?”

You want to play it off like it’s no big deal, but you can’t hide anything from your dad. “Please don’t ask me questions,” you plead. Then a small bit of panic sets in – Roger’s going to be coming over and both of your parents were going to have a million questions. You can’t call him. Looking at the time you know he’s not home anymore. How am I going to handle this? you moan to yourself. You decide that distracting your dad and keeping him in a conversation will help you think of a solution to this problem. “Hey, guess who’s recording at the studio right now?”

He can tell by the smile on your face that it’s someone big. He starts rattling off random musicians, never guessing correctly. When there’s a knock at the door, you hurry and jump up, running to the door before Roger can start yelling something completely inappropriate.

You open the door, holding a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet, and walk out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind you. “My parents are here,” you tell him. “Run away.”

“Absolutely not,” he tells you with a grin as he reaches behind you to open the door.

“No, Roger,” you plead. “Please…”

“I want to meet them,” he says, his tone turning quite serious.

“Why?” you ask. It’s not that you’re ashamed, or embarrassed in any way. You just know that meeting your parents is… well, it’s a pretty big deal.

He grabs you by your waist and pulls you close. “Because I want to meet the people who are responsible for creating you,” he chuckles. “Maybe I want to thank them.”

“Roger, no,” you beg. “They won’t understand…”

He quickly interrupts you. “Won’t understand what? That you have company?” He bends down and gets eyes even with yours as he’s holding on to your shoulders. “Won’t understand that I’m crazy about their daughter?”

“Won’t understand that their daughter is crazy about a guy that’s 14 years older than her and who just so happens to be…”

“Who happens to be crazy about her too?” He starts to chuckle again and pulls you in for a hug. “They don’t need details, Y/N. We met, we got to know each other, and that’s all they need to know right now.” He draws back and gives you that smile you can’t ever say no to. “Unless you’re not ready to tell people about us.”

You glare at him, wishing he didn’t start this conversation in the hallway. “Us?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Well would you rather me just walk in there and introduce myself as the guy who’s fucking their daughter?” he asks, a serious tone in his voice. “Or would you rather me be the guy who…”

“They know who you are,” you groan, interrupting him, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say. “I can’t just walk in there with Roger Taylor and not have to answer a million questions,” you giggle.

“What if I walk in there with Y/N Y/L/N?” He looks at you with that damn smile again. “Come on, let me meet them. I want to meet them.”

You give him a smile, a partially defeated smile, because you know he’s not going to give up. “Fine,” you giggle. “But be warned. My dad makes terrible jokes and my mom wants me married and pregnant as soon as possible, so when you walk in there all she’s going to think is that….”

“I like terrible jokes,” he chuffs. “And I can handle mom, don’t worry.” He looks at the concern on your face and tries he best to be reassuring. “It’ll be fine.” Against your better judgment, you open the door and he follows you inside.

“Hey, Dad,” you say, just a little bit choked up with nerves. He turns around and a huge, giddy smile crosses his face. “This is Roger…” Please don’t embarrass me, you moan to yourself.

He jumps up from the sofa and holds his hand out for a handshake. “Roger. Taylor? The drummer?” He looks at you with a huge smile before turning back. “Nice to meet you. I’m David.” Your mom slowly walks in the living room. “Connie, come here!” your dad excitedly calls her over.

Your mom slowly holds her hand out and forces a smile as she introduces herself, not happy, but not completely upset. “Hello, Roger. I’m Connie.” You were nervous. She knew damn good and well he wasn’t just some friend who happened to drop by. It’s not that she thought you were some virginal being, she just wasn’t happy that he was a bit older than you.

Your dad, on the other hand, was either completely oblivious or way too excited to care. He and Roger entered into a conversation, your dad acting like a good host in your apartment, bringing Roger into the kitchen for a beer and to continue their conversation, leaving you alone with your mom.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” she sternly asks. You roll your eyes and give her an irritated look. “You can’t tell me nothing’s going on when this guy I would consider leaving your father for shows up at your door.” You open your mouth to say something, but she cuts you off. “I don’t think I want to know what’s going on. Don’t answer that.” She sits down on the sofa, silent, and leans her head back. You stand there, not sure what to say or do anymore. “So I guess that’s four of us for dinner then.” She looks over to you. “Well, go get ready,” she says as she waves you off. “You take forever to get dressed.”

You cringe as you walk away, nerves raging inside of you because you have absolutely no idea what in the hell the three of them are going to talk about when you’re not around. The last guy you introduced them to was so intimidated by their questioning he broke up with you the next day because of it, so you didn’t take your usual hour to get dressed. 30 minutes – that’s all it took, and you rushed back into the living room, only to be pleasantly surprised when you walked back in. They were all… getting along, laughing, having a good time in each other’s company.

“Pumpkin!” your dad calls you when he sees you, scooting over so you can sit between him and Roger. “Roger was just starting to tell us about that dinner with those big wigs.”

What the fuck? you screamed internally as you glared at Roger, who was quite amused with himself. “The dinner?” you choked.

“I was telling them about your skills,” Roger smiles and looks at your mom. “She’s got great skills.” You start choking again. “Well you do. You have great persuasion skills.”

You glare at Roger, amused, but wondering why he’s telling them this and looks at you, trying not to laugh as your mom starts to talk. “She does,” your mom concurs. “When she was 15 she somehow managed to get us to agree to let her go camping in Yosemite with a group of friends alone, chaperoned by her friend’s 18-year-old brother. What parents do that?”

Roger’s looking at you with a curious smirk and keeps the game going. “We don’t usually let people in the recording studio unless they’re working, but Y/N somehow managed to convince us to let her in.” He takes a sip of his beer and starts to chuckle. “I even let her play my drums.”

He’s managing to keep a straight face, but you’re finding it harder to control yourself. “Yeah. He’s a great teacher,” you say. “Taught me all kinds of ways to handle his drumst…”

Roger hurries and clears his throat, stopping you before you can finish. “Y/N told me you were just in Germany. How did you like it?”

You’re relieved. You hated when you were the topic of conversation, and you were thankful he didn’t keep throwing out innuendos that only the two of you would understand. Instead, they kept discussing all of the places they’ve been, and you listened intently for a while, before getting up and walking into the kitchen. Your dad followed behind and startled you with a hug. “He’s a good guy,” he tells you. “Makes me feel better knowing you have someone taking care of you.” You look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Don’t deny it. That’s his toothbrush isn’t it?” He chuckles as you roll your eyes. “I won’t press for more information.” He pats you on the head and walks back into the living room.

You’re standing by the sink, staring out the window and drinking a glass of water, when Roger sneaks up behind you and wraps you into a hug. “They’re nice,” he murmurs. “Easy to see where you get your personality from.”

You turn around quickly and start to laugh. “If you say I’m like my mother…”

“I have learned long ago to never tell a woman she’s like her mother,” he laughs. He takes the glass from your hand and takes a sip. “She went dress your dad so we can leave.” He starts to lean down to give you a kiss but you hear your mom yelling at your dad as she walks down the hall.

“Alright you two,” she says as she stands by the door. “Hands to yourself,” she chuckles.

You’re not completely mortified the entire evening, but there are moments when your parents can’t help but embarrass you in the way only parents can. They couldn’t help but play you up to him, probably unintentionally but they did it nonetheless. When they excused themselves to bed – you let them take your bedroom – you and Roger were finally alone.

“Our sleeping arrangement has been compromised,” you giggled in a whisper.

“Hope you changed your sheets,” he joked as he heard the bedroom door close, to which you rolled your eyes and playfully slapped him. He scoots over close to you on the sofa, lessening the distance that was intentionally set between you while they were there. “I want to hear more about that camping trip when you were 15,” he jokes. You give him a side-eyed smirk and try to hold on your laugh. “Something tells me it wasn’t an innocent time.”

You roll your eyes and just tell him, because you know if you don’t he’ll just nag you until you do. “I went camping. With my friend’s brother.” You smirk.

“Oh, so you were always naughty,” he laughs as he leans in to kiss you, but you giggle and move away. “What?” he chuckles. “It’s just a kiss.” You give in, like you always do, and let him kiss you. “Wanted to do that all day,” he whispers with a smile.

That fucking smile gets you every single time, and he knows it, just like you know yours gets him every single time. You also know that your parents are right there in your bedroom, but you know that you want him, and that fucking smile doesn’t help things at all. “This is terrible,” you giggle.

“Can you be quiet?” he smirks. “I can be quiet.” He runs his hand under your skirt and smirks. You smirk back at him and grab his waistband, pulling him closer to you so you can unbutton and unzip his pants. He grabs the blanket from the back of the sofa and throws it over his back. “Just in case,” he whispers with a chuckle before leaning in to give you a kiss, a deeper one this time.

You start to giggle, realizing the silliness of what is happening right now. “But Roger,” you say with a dramatic, teasing tone to your whisper. “My parents are in the other room! What if they catch us?”

He reaches over and picks up the TV remote and turns it on. “They won’t catch us,” he jokes back. “Just be quiet.” He moves over you as you lean back on the arm of the sofa, both of you still giggling as you kiss, until he reaches his hand down and starts to rub your already wet essence. “This shouldn’t take long,” he winks, pulling your panties off before bringing his fingers up to his mouth to have a taste of you. “Delicious, as always,” he smirks, reaching back down to play some more.

You keep the kiss going as your hand wanders down to his cock, already hard and waiting. You firmly, but gently, caress the head and shaft, knowing by the depths of his breathing that he quite enjoys it. “Already so hard for me,” you whisper with a giggle as you continue to rub your hand up and down, and nibbling on his ear.

He rubs his cock over your wetness before slowly pushing himself inside you, moving slowly, wanting to make sure you feel every thrust. “Still my naughty minx,” he whispers, his breath matching the heaviness of yours. His pace slowly picks up, keeping his mouth on yours, kissing you deeply to keep any moans quiet. You wrap your legs around his waist, making him push himself deeper inside of you, running your hands up and down his arms. He breaks away from the kiss so he can look directly in your eyes. “Keep your eyes open,” he begs. “Let me look in your eyes.” You shake your head yes, agreeing to his request. Feeling your orgasm approaching, you dig your nails in his back, doing everything you can to stay quiet, staring into each other’s eyes, never wanting to look away.

You reach a hand behind his head and grab his hair, doing anything you can to stifle the moans you want to let out. “I’m ready, Roger,” you whisper. You can’t get anything else out. The intensity of his cock thrusting inside of you is maximized by the deep look of desire you’re seeing in his eyes. He leans in and gives you another kiss, your tongues dancing in unison, but your eyes never close. You don’t break the gaze.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers, pushing himself in as far as he can go. “I’m ready, too.” You both brace yourself for the waves your bodies are about to experience. Your legs pull him in deeper, he’s thrusting faster, and your eye contact never breaks, both of you gasping at the same time as your climaxes happen in perfect sync.

He stays inside of you as you both desperately try to catch your breaths, still unable to look away from each other, expressions never changing from the passion-filled looks you were giving to each other the entire time. “That was…”

He started to smile. “Fun,” he whispers. He slowly moves himself from inside of you and runs his fingers gently over your still-throbbing flower. “I will never get tired of your taste,” he whispers as he brings his fingers to his mouth, his smile gone from his face. “I will never get tired of you.”

You start to sit up, and he takes the hint, pulling his pants back on. “What happens to me after Montreux?” you ask. “If I go with you, what happens after?”

This time he doesn’t crack a joke. He doesn’t tell you not to worry about it. He doesn’t tell you anything he knows will not give you a direct answer. “Whatever you want to happen. If you want to come to Munich, you come. If you want to come back here, you come back.” You start to say something, but he stops you, somehow already knowing what you’re going to ask. “They won’t mind,” he smiles. “I’ve already discussed it with them.” He interrupts you again before you can say anything. “Yes, I really did.” Once again, you open your mouth and he stops you again. “Fred likes having you around because you always take his side. And you laugh at Deaky’s jokes, and he’s always happy to have an audience. And it seems you’re the only one who can get Brian out of his pissy moods when he’s on one.”

You both start laughing, and you can’t help but look at him adoringly. But your expression quickly turns to concern, and he runs his fingers through your hair. “So they know. And they’re…”

“My life is my life, Y/N. No one is going to tell me how to live it,” he smiles. “Besides, I think the fact that I snagged myself a pretty young thing makes them jealous,” he jokes, making you smile. “Don’t worry about them, okay? They don’t think you’re a bother.” He leans close, puts his hand under your chin and raises your mouth to his. “I’m not rushing you for an answer. I really hope you come, though,” he smiles before he gives you one of those slow, soft kisses that will never not make you melt. He looks over at the clock and noticed the time. “I don’t want to go,” he sighs. “But if I stay here any longer we’ll get in trouble,” he chuckles, and kisses you again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You walk him to the door and give him one more kiss goodbye and close the door. When you turn to walk down the hall to get ready for bed, your face radiantly beaming, you’re greeted by your mom, and jump in surprise. She’s standing there in front of you, smirking, and you’re mortified, hoping like hell she didn’t see everything that went on. “Where does he want you to go?”

You exhale, thanking every deity known to man that she didn’t walk in earlier than she apparently did. “Montreux. Switzerland. The band has a studio there.”

“Oh?” she asks with surprise in her voice. “He wants you to go work? They’re finally teaching you…”

You sigh and a tear starts to fall down your cheek. “Momma…” You start to cry and you don’t know why. You haven’t cried over a guy ever before yesterday, and you don’t know why you’re crying now. She puts a hand on your back and pushes you to the living room. When you sit down, you start laughing. “This is so stupid. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

She sits down next to you and wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Because, my sweet baby is actually experiencing feelings,” she says sarcastically as she pinches your cheeks. “The horror!” Your laughter gets harder, and she gives you a one-armed hug. “He’s a bit older than you,” she points out. “Can’t say I’m pleased with that.”

“Jesus, Momma,” you groan. “It’s not like I’m marrying him.”

“That jackass you dated in high school for a while. What was his name?”

“Barrett,” you said. “Barrett. You hated him because he was in a band and had long hair.”

“No,” she giggled. “When I met your dad he was in a band and had long hair. That’s why your dad hated him. I hated him because he was a jackass.” She moves your hair behind your ears. “Roger looks like Barrett.”

You started laughing uncontrollably. “I dated Barrett because he looked like Roger.”

“Well, I don’t hate Roger. Neither does your dad,” she said with a chuckle. “He’s nice, and he clearly worships the ground you walk on.” A smile crosses your face before you hurry and take it away. “You said there’s a studio over there?” You nod your head, silently answering her. “Right up your alley then,” she smiles as she cups your cheek. “And you’ll be there, with him,” she tells you as she moves your head to her shoulder. “He’s wanting you to traipse off to Switzerland with him and you have to think about this?” You look up at her and give her a blank stare. “I thought we raised you better than that.”

“You didn’t raise me to go running off with some guy on a whim, not knowing what I was getting myself into,” you roll your eyes as you pull away from her and throw yourself back on the sofa.

“No, we didn’t,” she says. “We raised you to be sensible and stable, but that didn’t work out.” Your mom always had a way to make you laugh through any emotion, and you were so grateful she was here with you right now. “You ended up here because you ran off with some guy on a whim.”

“Ugh,” you groan and roll your eyes. “Yeah, I did, and look how good that turned out.”

Your mom tries hard to stifle her laugh, but she’s not doing a good job. “You’ve gone 21 years doing whatever you wanted to do without thinking it through, so why is this so hard for you?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know why.” You really didn’t. If anyone would have ever asked you to run away, you’d have packed your things and been out the door without a second thought. “You’re supposed to be stopping me from going,” you tell her. “You’re supposed to tell me this is a bad idea, that it won’t end well, that I need to grow up and…”

“Oh, shut up, Y/N,” she jokingly scolds you. “Do you not see the way he looks at you? I saw it the second he walked in that door.” Of course you see it. Every single time he looks at you it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. “If you don’t go, you’ll never forgive yourself. And like he told you, you can always come back.”

You wanted to go. You wanted to tell him the instant he told you he wanted you to go, but you were more concerned with protecting your heart. This entire time, you were protecting your heart, but that was because you were worried about him leaving you in L.A. Now he was asking you to leave with him, but you were still worried about protecting your heart. You were up all night thinking about it, weighing pros and cons for the first time, wishing like hell you could just stop trying to be sensible for the first time ever. You realized that there was only one thing that was really holding you back, and there was no way you were going to pressure him for an answer on that.

“Y/N? Did you know that?” Anna has been talking for the past few minutes but you completely zoned out. “Did you know that they’re the next ones coming record here?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, realizing what she’s talking about. “They won’t be as fun as these guys though.”

Roger walks in and raises his sunglasses. You can see his eyes light up when he sees you sitting at your desk. Your bite your lip, concernedly, before giving him an unsure smile. After greeting Anna and making her blush like he’s prone to do, he sits on your desk and smiles back and you can tell by the look on his face he’s feeling uneasy about the vibe your giving off. “You alright?” he asks as he pinches your cheek.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Just have a lot on my mind.” You give him a soft grin, which he returns. Anna senses that the two of you need some privacy, so she walks outside, leaving the two of you alone.

“Would mom and dad be upset if I keep you to myself tonight?” he asks and you start to laugh. “Yeah, not a good idea.”

You get up and stand between his legs, wrap your arms around his neck, smirk and give him a quick peck on the lips. “Actually, dad’s grilling tonight for dinner and you’re invited.” You give him another peck and he puts his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. “For some unknown reason, they really like you.”

“Must be my dashing good looks,” he chuckled. “Or my impeccable wit.” This is the first time you allowed the two of you to engage in any sort of public display of affection. You didn’t care who saw or what they thought anymore. You can’t stop kissing him. You can’t stop looking at him. This feeling is something you never knew you wanted, and you realize now that you want to have it for as long as you can. This very moment - this second - this simple moment was filling you with an odd sense of a combined calm and excitement, something you’ve experienced with him before. “What’s gotten into you?” he laughs, finding your out-of-character behavior funny.

All you can do is smile. “Can’t help myself I guess,” you say, giggling. “You’re just so damn adorable.”

“Adorable, huh?” he giggles back before the two of you share another quick peck. “Mmm,” he murmurs as he licks his lips. “Now you taste like strawberries too,” he says with a smile, noticing the taste of your new flavored lip gloss. His eyes glance up and he sees his bandmates looking through the window into the office. “Don’t turn around, but I think we’re being watched,” he murmurs, pretending to be suspicious.

“Damn,” you say in the same tone as him. “I was just about to get frisky, too.” You hear someone tapping on the window behind you and roll your eyes. “Guess it’s time for you to go then.” You turn around and see the rest of the guys puckering up their lips and giggling like schoolboys. Roger groans and gives you one last kiss before getting up from your desk and walking to the door. “Hey, Roger?” He turns back around before going in. “What’s the weather like in Montreux this time of year? I need to know what to pack.”

{part 8 >>}

[tumblingdoe]

Wednesday January 2, 2019

Last night I was up until 2:30something trying to pack a few more boxes so I could comfortably leave home on a five month road tour. I woke up again at 8:00 giddy to continue working on my to-do list. I put packages in the mail to Sexpla(i)nauts, dropped flowers off for friends, cuddled with my dog, and ate peanut butter bumpers and milk -- a breakfast favorite. Then it was time to go. My partner Nels took the first shift of driving and as the 23 foot RV rattled down the road I found myself nesting. I put away art supplies, computer cords, toiletries, and dried food goods. I hung up clothes and made the bed. It was fun’ish but the rumbling got to me and within 10 miles I was ready to go home.

I put in earplugs rather than giving up and ate some pineapple slices but the exclamations persisted “get me out of this f****** vehicle!” “What was I thinking!?” I was over it so Nels pulled over at a rest stop and we played in the snow, running laps and breathing in the pine air. I wore myself out and decided to try again. I hopped in the driver’s seat hoping that being behind the wheel would make the road noise and vibrations more manageable. Sure enough I began chattering away “this trip is going to be amazing!” “I love this little box on wheels.” “We’re so lucky to be doing this!” That is, until I realized we’d only gotten 100 miles down the road.

The next stop was a taco truck in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. While we waited to get the food I went across the street to a coffee shop, bought a bag of beans, and asked the baristas if they had any questions about sexuality for me to answer. The one who asked wasn’t sure which words to say but I interpreted correctly that he wanted to know whether or not I thought gender and sexual orientation were born traits. Before I could answer, he said, “if sex is for procreation then why would two men be attracted to each other?”

I have talked with thousands of people about sexuality. I can read pretty quickly what kind of education a person has had and how their personal experiences have played into it. I can also tell to a degree whether a person is curious or trying to instigate me in a battle. This barista was curious and I was thrilled. I told him about the sexuality hypotheses in this video. Unconcerned with the other patrons in the room, he said “so if you and were siblings” and I responded, “and we had a brother, he’d be more likely to be homosexual. And it would actually serve reproduction because he wouldn’t have offspring to compete with our children for resources and he could be part of the support network that helps to successfully raise the next generation of our family.” The other barista came back to the conversation at this point, pleased to have learned something and I was asked one more question. “Do you believe in creation or evolution?” We talked about my answer briefly -- enchiladas were waiting for me. As I said good-bye, I was very happy to have made the decision to take this time in my life to drive across the country and answer sex questions for people.

Food was delicious and restorative.

Nels and I drove to Spokane, Washington next. A person named John messaged that he’d like to meet-up and say hi. I was thinking a quick five minutes at a rest stop just off the freeway but my sweetheart was smarter and chose Auntie’s Bookstore -- a beautiful three-story building with a great ambiance. We weren’t able to meet-up with John in the end but I felt another wave of gratitude that I’m travelling with someone who understands this journey can be as rich as we’re willing to make it.

Stay curious.

<1.3.19 We’re planning on doing breakfast at the Country Mercantile in Pasco, Washington, if you’d like to join us for some guerrilla sex ed. And then we’ll be headed to Portland, Oregon to speak at SPEEC from 7-8:30>

[jessiewre]

Day 22

Sun 26th Jan 💜

It’s been a year to the day since we lost Nanny. That’s mad isn’t it. Miss that legend.

Woke up at about 5am because we’d gone to bed too early, but managed to power through and stay in bed till 7am. Phil got up and continued researching his new obsession - a half marathon near Kilimanjaro - and I joined him at 8:30am for Spanish omelette breakfast included in our 25$ a night room. Good deal that init. People say that in London you’re never further than like 5 meters away from a rat. Well thats like me and good deals, there’s always one close by for me to sniff out. Maybe I’m more like one of those pigs and the deals are truffles.

I digress...

The hostel manager was now wearing a chefs coat and I realised he was now the chef. What a multi-talented chap he was. I threw him into a frenzy by asking for salt, pepper, ketchup and chilli sauce, and eventually went into the kitchen myself to assist.

The ketchup was in a huge bucket bottle in the fridge and he gracefully glugged it out into a plastic squeezey bottle that he couldn’t find the lid for. Yum.

Shout out to Stella and Helen who will surely boke at that description of keptchup.

We got bodas to the Woman’s Centre for the recommended walking tour starting at 10am - but there was a big bike race on believe it or not, and so road blocks meant we had to walk the last kilometre. Phil was loving the bike race, I could see his legs twitching like he was imagining himself on a bike that moment, but I soon snapped him back to reality by power-walking ahead to avoid us being super late to the walk.

The sky was rapidly turning a dark shade of grey but Phil assured me that the weather report he’d checked stated that there would be no rain until midday or later.

You may be able to sense where this is going.

We arrived at the Centre and sat in the sofa area for the introduction, and the exact moment the woman began to talk and tell us about the community, the rain began to thunder on the metal roof and no one could hear a word she said. After 10 minutes, the intro finished and the rain actually calmed down a little, but then it went totally crazy again and me and Phil looked at each other like...hmm should we just not do this walking tour.

Another English girl there was thinking the same thing and the 3 of us decided to ditch the tour and head back the next day, while the 3 older people and a young American woman went off in the torrential rain with umbrellas. Umbrella’s are all good and well but I couldn’t see another soul on the streets so I seriously doubted how good a community walking tour would be in this weather. We chatted to the English girl, Esther, and she was ending a weeks work doing research for the Princes Trust who she works for. In a nutshell, she creates programmes for local groups in different countries to integrate technology into their lives to improve their prospects and quality of life. Really interesting! Phil mentioned that she should hang at our hostel later if she wanted as we were planning on trying out the bowling alley on site, and she was really up for that, especially considering she was in Kigali on her own and it was her last night.

The rain eventually calmed down enough for us to jump on a boda and we decided that considering the rain, it would be appropriate to visit the Genocide Museum at this point. We knew we were going to visit it at some point so made sense to be inside during the rain.

We were really hungry though and didn’t want to rush through the museum, so thankfully there was a cafe on site where we had a vege burger and vege panini, both with chips. We decided we’d try and lay off the chips for a while after that meal, it was the chip that broke the camels back.

The Rwandan Genocide museum was a harrowing and necessary visit.

The below information is upsetting, I’ll warn you now.

genocide

noun

noun: genocide; plural noun: genocides

1. the deliberate killing of a large group of people, especially those of a particular nation or ethnic group.

To briefly summarise, the problems began when the country was ‘colonised’ - or should we say if we’re being honest, when the country was invaded against its will. The Germans were first in 1899 then the Belgians in 1916 and then the Belgian’s decided to split the country into three different groups. Ultimately this created a sort of competition between the groups of people that had never existed before and this was what they say sparked the issues in the country. Fast forward to 1994, and the genocide officially began, over a period of 100 days - neighbours were murdering neighbours, friends were murdering friends. Relatives even betrayed each other. By turning people against each other, the ringleaders were able to sit back and watch the killings happen for them.

Being in the country now, its very difficult to imagine it happening, as it feels vibrant, friendly and safe. But the images in the museum leave you under no illusions. People were mindlessly slaughtered, no one was spared - children, pregnant women and men. It was absolutely mind-blowingly horrendous.

The museum talks a lot about how the international community sat back and let it happen, like Rwanda was on another planet that no one cared about. There is obviously a lot of pain from that which was difficult to read about.

But there were also a number of people who put themselves on the line by hiding people in their houses and gardens, saving many lives. Unfortunately, there were not enough of those people and over a million people were killed. They are still uncovering mass graves today.

There were videos playing with interviews from survivors talking about the guilt they feel from being the only member of their family who survived. But incredibly, they spoke about forgiveness and said they would like to forgive the perpetrators if they were willing to ask for forgiveness. They spoke about moving forward with only peace in mind, as this was what would move Rwanda forward in a peaceful way. By seeking revenge, the violence and pain would continue, they said. It’s unbelievable to hear that from someone who watched their innocent young siblings and mother murdered by machete in front of their very eyes. You can’t even imagine what this person has gone through.

One of the most difficult parts of the museum was The Children’s Room. This section had beautiful photos of child victims printed in large portraits displayed around the room, with a small plaque underneath each one with bullet points of information about the child, like:

Name

Age

Favourite Snack

Best Friend


Then the final point for every child was

Cause of death

The descriptions here were detailed and distressing.

Obviously there is a huge amount of detail missing from this account of the genocide and I urge you to have a read about it if you have time and are interested.

We left there after a few hours taking it all in and went to find the Inema Art gallery, as we’d read about it being a really cool artists space that has had a lot of international interest.

It was different to what I expected, as there wasn’t actually a lot of pieces in there - more like a few extremely large pieces, each priced around $5000. So obviously, we bought two and headed off.

Well anyway, some of the artists were there stood near their art in smart clothes and were hoping for a super rich muzungu coming in and buying everything. That was not going to be us, so we thanked them and headed to the cafe for a little coffee.

Not before I asked them if there were any female artists there.

One guy said No, the women in Rwanda seem to stick to the craft-making and THEN he said that even though many are good at art, he thinks they are lacking in passion.

I said Hmm perhaps you means Confidence, not passion.

He was like Oh yeah, maybe that.

Yeah MAYBE THAT mate.

We boda’d back to the hostel and Phil donned up in his gear for a run. Just before heading off, he finally booked himself a spot onto the Kilimanjaro half marathon in Moshi, Tanzania on 1st March. FFS. Better get practicing on my excited supportive girlfriend look then.

Meanwhile I sat in the hostel garden watching videos on how to use Procreate on the iPad. Suddenly realised Phil had been gone AGES and then he rocked up having run like 10 MILES and then said Oh also, I may have tripped over and potentially broken my toe.

He’d taken out his phone to check the map and ended up kicking a bit of metal sticking out of the group, and then he’d fallen over and made a few new cracks on his phone screen (to join the 5 that were already there).

Wicked.

Phil had a quick shower and change while hobbling around on his bad foot (I hear broken toes are brilliant for half marathons), and Esther arrived at the hostel, so we went searching for a restaurant open on a Sunday. After a few fails, we eventually stumbled across a place called Afrika Bite and negotiated the 10k per person meaty Rwandan platter down to 5k each for a vegetarian version for all of us. It was so good! Garlic potatoes, peanut sauce, rice, vegetables, fried banana, salad, plus some ‘fish fingers’ ordered as an extra. Such a welcome relief to eat something local and delicious. Shout out to those who are reading this blog mainly for the food descriptions.

We went back to the hostel to play in East Africa’s 2nd bowling alley (the only other one is in Nairobi!) and Esther made sure she mentioned she had a ‘bad neck’. That would explain her unbelievably bad scoring thats for sure. Ok now to be fair, Phil the physio also advised that she use the heaviest ball available which turned out to be truly awful advise and after a stagnant run of about 2 points in 6 goes, she tried a really light ball - and actually hit some pins! Go Esther.

Can I also mention that this bowling alley had a system where a bloke hidden at the end would organise the pins and reset them for us manually using a kind of lever system. He always managed to move his hands out of the way before the ball struck the pins of course.

Esther headed back to her hotel and we ended up playing basketball on the two hoops game with Desire the manager. Our quick game of ‘How many can you score in 1 minute’ managed to take over our lives for over an hour. My record was 23, Phil’s 24 (he’s taller init) and Desire managed 33 (well, he works there so ya know). Was addictive and super fun and I got the impression Desire will spend the next year working on his pb.

[mademoiselless]

[2/10]

"Hear her every thought, see her every dream."

Literature is that one subject you hated, you find it kind of boring that it makes you sleep most of the time in between discussions and lectures. You were annoyed to the fact that you won't be getting your degree if you dare to skip it on a semester. Apparently, you've never really imagine yourself having a fullblown distaste to that certain subject, not when an annoying, weird guy suddenly pops out of nowhere, asking you to be your partner.

"And what makes you think I'll let you be my pair?" You eyed his side curiously.

"Hmm..let me think," Jaehyun pretends to think hard, stroking his invisible beard under his chin discerning his deep dimples. "There are approximately thirty-two students inside this room which makes sixteen pairs, you see here, all thirty of them finally found their respective partners." He explains as a matter of fact.

"And?" You pressed raising him a doubtful brow.

"And... Only thirty students have been paired except for the remaining two.. hmm basic math I guess, which -"

"Doesn't make sense?" You offered, smirking a bit when you heard him snorted on his stupid reasoning. Truth to be told, there are thirty two students attending the class, twenty of them were girls which means half of the class were basically dreaming and fighting to be paired with him. The last fifteen minutes of the class were wasted with Jaehyun still pestering you to join him for the stupid research paper that you've been silently cursing, plus the annoying sound of his metal chair screeching against the marbled floor when he attempts to sneak near you ain't helping.

"Children, dont forget to pass your research work next week!" The middle-aged proffesor yells. "Get yourselves busy with the papers not with foils. Education before procreation. " she adds tilting her glasses down as she winks. Everyone laughs aloud but you didn't miss to hear the prick beside you snicker, probably finding the innuendo very relatable.

"Listen here Jung." You started, turning towards him as you stood with your notes and binder clutched againts your chest. "I really find you being really weird these days. Honestly, it's making me uncomfortable. " You tried so hard not to sound rude as much as possible but still with a hint of seriousness on your tone. "If you're planning to pull those damn tricks on me, please don't. I'm not one of them." Well, that stings a bit. He went slightly agape when you glanced up at him like he's going to speak but no words were coming out. "Please leave me alone." With that, you left the room earning curious and envy glares from random girls along the hall.

And that's how you basically tell someone to fuck off, short and nicely.

It was already 2 a. m and he can't find himself to sleep. He spent the whole day on classes and went home at ten from basketball practice, his body was dead tired but he couldn't help him self but to fidget and roll over the duvet, again and again. When he tossed to his side, that's when he finally discovered that thing on his night stand called phone were he could browse hundred of girls' numbers to call whenever he needs them, just like his old routine. He plops on his stomach, grinning from the idea and started to scan his cell, roughly running his thumb all over some random names that can distract him only to halt when he finally reached the bottom of his contacts, staring on it blankly and he's still thinking about you.

So many things were running in his head, first, his hurted ego. Not even once he received a rejection especially from a woman. Second, never in his entire life he become this so annoyed to his own surname. "Why does she even call me Jung when I have a first name?" he asked exasperately as his stirs in bed. why Jung off all the names? Third, why you? When there's so many other girls in the line waiting, ready to throw themselves at him. And fourth, what the hell is wrong with him? To answer his question, he doesn't know either. You were a sudden change to his life. There's something in you that's very unlikely that he didn't notice his strange interest will develop this far. That night, Jaehyun didn't sleep.

The weekend and Jaehyun's dilemma drifted fast at the same time. He woke up and get himself ready to college on a Monday morning with all his guts and charm. He seems like he got this renewed energy, but not really, the truth is he's just really stubborn, persistent. Right, speaking of being stubborn, the young lad cannot and will not admit of being one. He says it was out of his character and context. Competitive, that's what he is as for him and nobody can convince him otherwise.

Jaehyun arrives at the hall a little earlier than usual for that certain subject you two shared and had a quick scan for your familiar face but sadly found your chair empty. He sat down, this time near at your usual spot. The lecture already started, he checks the time and about fifteen minutes has already passed but you were still nowhere in sight, Jaehyun started to think.

The class ended lately due to some lessons that your prof decided to cram. He was the last one to exit the room when someone patted him in the shoulder, startling him. "Jae, cmon practice is about to start." One of his teammates call. Suddenly, he recalls you basically telling him to get out of your sight which made him cringe inwardly making him question himself more why you're still running in his head not mention that lowkey insult that you spew which is most likely true, but damn it wounded his manwhore image. "That girl is something." He mumbles to himself. Jaehyun isn't saying his worried, but he really is.

"She's not joining the summer tournament." Jaehyun faintly hears as he walks along the side of the court from the lockers, already on his basketball jersey. He was about to take another long stride when he caught your name being mentioned gaining his full attention. "Heard she's dropping out of varsity. I don't know." He silently evesdrops on the corner pretending to play on his phone. "But she's one of the aces, Tine. We can't lose her." The other girl sighed deeply.

For a long time, Jaehyun didn't felt any sense of care and overwrought to somebody else, he was a selfish, happy-go-lucky guy after all, but on that brief period he felt something break, drop and quiver inside him. He can not really decipher the feeling of it, it was warm and at the same time, it burns deep down. Of course the unloving jerk was still oblivious, but on that moment, for the very first time, Jung Jaehyun's heart started to beat.

<< [0/10] [1/10]

>> [3/10]

[sojourne]

So I just finished watching Apocalypse last night (yes, I’ve never seen it until now dfngkdjkfg) and I... I really loved it but at the same time...... Bruh

Big rant below the cut

1. What is Miss Venable’s fuckin conniption with the purple dresses? Why is she so damn weird about it and wearing one in private so no one sees her? You’d think that since she’s making up her own rules and literally executing people for fucking she’d be okay with wearing a purple dress. Also why does she refer to sex as copulation/procreation lmao

2. The horse carriage with apples… Had no driver. How the fuck did the horses know how to get to the outpost? How did they not get spooked by something and run off a cliff? Horses will literally kill themselves trying to run away from a plastic bag, how did these horses run through a nuclear wasteland by themselves.

3. I’ve mentioned it to a few people but… Ryan Murphy, sir, eating apples full of snake venom wouldn’t do shit. That’s not how venom works. At all. And even if EVERYONE in the outpost happened to have open wounds in their mouth/throat/etc for the venom to enter, I seriously doubt it would kill them immediately like that or cause such severe symptoms. I can’t even look up the effects of the venom because the snake you showed them getting venom from is a nonvenomous Drymarchon couperi (at least I think it’s a couperi, it’s at least from the Drymarchon genus)

4. How did Madison die??? Last time I checked she left the Coven and now she’s suddenly in Hell. What did thottiana do this time?

5. What happened between Murder House and Apocalypse? Last we saw Ben and Vivien were tolerating each other and having a nice Christmas and now Ben’s jacking off in front of a window and crying. Again.

6. WHERE DID HAYDEN GO??? They literally dug up her bones and the girl is nowhere to be seen. If someone dug up my skull I’d at least be like “hey lol that’s mine thanks”. Also since everything was erased in the end what happened to the ghosts in the Murder House? Is Moira back to being stuck there? Does Violet still hate Tate? Is Ben still crying and jacking off in front of an open window? Who fucking knows!

7. Also… Where the FUCK did Kyle go? He was a pretty damn big part of Coven and Zoe was like, in love with him. And now he’s just. Gone. Is he dead? Did the witches fire him? Is he just busy doing something around Robichaux?

8. I still can’t believe the only reason Michael destroyed the entire world was because two coked out coconut head looking bastards got a bug up their ass about it. Also I love how Jeff and Mutt have last names and Mallory, the Super Special Hero™ doesn’t have one. She’s literally just Mallory. All we know about her is that she apparently has ancestors that were in Salem and… That’s it. Who are her parents? Where did she come from?

9. Speaking of Mallory, why was she such a smug bitch about leaving Madison in Hell to “sweat it out”? Madison was already in Hell for fuck knows how long, and she saved Mallory’s ass by shooting Michael and pretty much giving her life to save her sister witches. Bitch got her head popped like a balloon only to be left in Hell.

10. Also I understand going back in time to kill Michael, but like… Cordelia, even after Michael had already done a ton of bad shit, offered him a chance to come to Robichaux because she saw the good in him. So why not, you know, have Mallory go back, get Michael, and bring him to Robichaux and try and give him a good life instead of like, running over a child who’s pretty much been abused and treated like shit his entire life.

Also speaking of killing Michael, they pretty much made room for another Antichrist to be born so like… Good job I guess? If they hadn’t range rovered Michael, Damon? What’s his name? Would have never been born. Now they gotta kill that little bastard once he grows up. 

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Also it took the Satanists so long to find Michael, how did they find the new kid after like two minutes?

[acaseforpencils]

Jason Chatfield.

Bio: I grew up in the far flung suburbs of Perth, in Western Australia, and used to spend my paper route money on MAD Magazines (I cheaped-out and stole my dentist’s waiting room issues of the New Yorker. I think I was the only kid who looked forward to going to the dentist).

I moved to New York in 2014 and started pitching to the mag in person. I’m not sure Bob liked me, so I went back to pitching via email. Then I went in on his last day and finally sold my first piece. I feel like it was his final f—k you to the magazine. “Here! Have a Chatfield!” 

Find this print here!

The cartoon was a goofy play on Vlad the Impaler. 

I didn’t sell to the magazine again until last month, but I’ve had a handful sold as dailies. And I’m published in MAD often, so they’ve clearly done away with any of their standards.

When I’m not drawing gag cartoons I write and draw a syndicated legacy strip called Ginger Meggs which I took over 10 years ago. It’s been around since 1921 and now appears daily in 34 countries. He’s kind of an Australian version of Dennis the Menace, except he predates him by about 30 years.

Tools of choice: For drawing/roughs, I use a Prismacolor Turquoise clutch pencil with a red lead and try to find some paper with a little bit of tooth. The mixed media pads at Blick do the trick nicely.

I ink using a Uni-ball Vision Elite Stick Roller Ball Pen… or a Pigma Micron 03. 

DO NOT use the Uni-Ball Vision Rollerball Pens, Fine Point (0.7mm) if you’re traveling. They explode on planes. And ruin your copy of The New Yorker.

For a wash, I just use watercolor and whatever brush is lying around. Nothing fancy. There’s a scanning app on my phone called “Adobe Scan” which does a nice job of scanning line-art into a PDF when I’m out of the studio and need to email in a quick rough.

I use a Wacom Mobilestudio Pro for finished artwork. I like to get out of the studio and work from a bar or restaurant, so it helps that I can take that with me. I use a little glove that I got on Amazon so I don’t grease up the screen, and the felt-tip nib that comes in the pen-holder makes the friction between the stylus and the screen more like pencil on paper. Unfortunately, they’re not waterproof, as I found on a recent vacation…

My wife plays piano and sings at bars around the city so I’ll often sit at the bar during her sets and draw. Digital/Traditional depends on what deadlines are most pressing. (She has a weekly residency in Astoria —if anyone’s interested in going, let me know!)

A lot of people email me for advice about tablets —I’ve been trialling/demo-ing Wacom products for 15 years— I think they’re great. If you’re married to doing stuff by hand but want to colour digitally, you can get a decent tablet without going broke. Depends on your workflow.

Writing Desk: My wife and I were living upstairs in 5A when my neighbour in 4B died. He was a brilliant poet and had an incredible old writing desk. It’s the only thing that was left in the apartment, so I’m looking after it ’til his grandson moves in at the end of our lease. I work for countless hours at this old thing. It’s beat up, but I’ve patched it together enough that it won’t collapse and bury me mid-brushstroke. I’ve stuck a few of my favourite toons on the top of it.

Tool I wish I could use better: My brain. It really is a sack of cats. Whenever I want to sit and do work, it clocks off. Then it comes up with a pearler of an idea at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. I write it down in my phone, but autocorrect makes it indecipherable by morning.

I like working with my writer friend, Scott. We both do comedy at night and have developed a nice short-hand. We also seem to have the same library of references and can build on each others’ premises, which tames my sack-of-cats.

Tool I wish existed: The Deadline Extender.® I’ve never missed a deadline, but that said… an extra 3 or 4 minutes to allow for a terrible wifi connection, or a errant scanner wouldn’t go astray.

Also: The Deadline Extender® PREMIUM: Let’s you go back in time to when you were procrastinating and slap yourself in the face. $30 p/month.

Tricks: Ok, well. This is going to sound a bit Dalton Trumbo, but bear with me: I do my best work…in the bath.The most productive 3 hours of my week are during Scotchbath Sunday; an immoveable chunk of time on Sunday evening whereby I lock myself in the bathroom, run a bath, lug my drawing stuff onto a bit of wood that sits over the bath, and just write and draw. Nothing else. I write weeks worth of my syndicated comic strip (Ginger Meggs), I write New Yorker cartoons, scribble up roughs for dailies— and when I feel like I’ve earned it (usually 2 hours in) I tap the side of the bath three times, and my wife peels herself from her piano and I unlock the door to a nice big glass of scotch. It’s a hell of a carrot on a stick to work towards when you’re stuck. (PS. Lest you think I’m some kind of Don Draper-era misogynist; the scotch reward part was her idea. I think she realized it keeps me in the bath and out of her way.)

Anyway. It’s a great way to switch gears creatively. It’s like being on an aeroplane. No wifi, no phones — just the work you need to get done. Get involved. #ScotchBathSunday.

Oh! And if I get my deadlines done for the week, I have a small budget for a solo lunch somewhere where I can eat cheese and draw. I really didn’t know cheese ’til I moved to America. (And yes, I’ve already been to Wisconsin. Good Lord.)

Tips? I always tell younger artists to not even think about touching a drawing tablet until they’ve learned to draw by hand first. Otherwise they’ll always be drawing away, knowing they have the insurance of the CTRL+Z key at their disposal if they screw up a line. That’s not a good habit to have when you’re working to a deadline. But, once you do know how to draw, by all means dive head-first into the digital realm. It’s incredible. Procreate, Sketchbook or Photoshop are all great.

Misc: One of the hangovers from working in advertising illustration is that I’ve had to be a bit of a chameleon style-wise for the last 15 years and haven’t allowed myself to just settle into one style. Lately, I’ve just decided to say “Bugger it!” and try and find a loose, consistent style that I’m comfortable with, that’s an apt conduit to my silly ideas.

I always loved George Booth’s line, and his ability to create a scene with so much movement but just at the right moment in time. Also Sam Gross’ dark, hilarious cartoons with perfect line-economy. And I’d give my left arm (I draw with my right) to know how Barry Blitt has so much control with his washes…

Chatfield’s portrait of Sam Gross

While I’m geeking out, I love seeing younger cartoonists find their feet and thrive in a style that just feels like they’re speaking to you— Ellis J. Rosen, Sofia Warren, Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell, Jason Katzenstein, Amy Kurzweil, and a seemingly endless list of talented younger artists who are putting in the work are a big inspiration. 

I know it should be Steig or Thurber or Addams, but my favourite cartoonist is Sergio Aragones.

I was always so enamoured of MAD growing up and studied the lines of Jack Davis, Mort Drucker, Al Jaffee and the Usual Gang of Idiots. I remember being so frustrated I couldn’t even come close to getting my work to look like theirs, but I think I found a style somewhere in between when I fell short. 

I think Wil McPhail’s poses are masterful, and I wish I knew how how the hell he did that. One day I’ll trudge up to England and knock on his door to ask him. I find myself doubled-over at John Cuneo’s Instagram, and Ed Steed’s absurdly funny gags. I have a slew of toons I’ve torn out of years’ worth of magazines and taped to my studio wall, or my zillion year-old writing desk. I’m constantly humbled by how generous and welcoming the existing crop of New Yorker cartoonists have been to a goofy Aussie immigrant — Joe Dator, Matt Diffee and Pat Byrnes, Mort Gerberg and an ever-growing list of prolific, talented cartoonists who make the 99% weekly rejection tolerable.

I’ve made some of my closest friends and have been lucky enough to meet my cartooning heroes through the National Cartoonists Society. I got to spend a lot of time with Sergio at the Lakes International Comic Art Festival in the UK last year which made my year. We were signing together for a whole afternoon and I spent more time geeking out with him than signing.

Okay. Enough drooling. Sorry.

I’m a fan of cartoonists.

Website, etc. I have a weekly podcast where I throw around ideas for New Yorker cartoons with a fellow comedian and writer, Scott Dooley. It’s called “Is There Something In This?” It’s a bit of fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, but we do take the art of writing gags very seriously. It’s an extremely difficult skill to master, and we’re virtually zygotes at it. We have lots of listeners now, which is bewildering. Talking about drawing is like dancing about architecture, but here we are. Anyway you can find it on iTunes or wherever you waste time listening to podcasts.

My website is jasonchatfield.com and my comedy stuff is up at jasonchatfieldcomedy.com  ( I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for 11 years. If anyone wants to come see a show, hit me up! I’ll put you on the door). My instagram is @jasonchatfield. I’m still trolling the British chap who has the @jasonchatfield handle on Twitter to no avail. To that end, I’m @jason_chatfield on Twitter.

If you want more art supplies in your life, A Case for Pencils is on Instagram and Twitter.  You can also find me, Jane (the person who created/edits this blog), on Twitter here, which is where I stick the paintings that I’ve been doing instead of interviewing people consistently (I needed to balance working on other people’s work and my own work!). Oh, and If you’d like to support this blog, which is always very appreciated, there are many different ways to do so, which you can find here!

[tabloidtoc]

National Examiner, May 3

You can buy a brand new copy of this issue without the mailing label for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Widow Queen Elizabeth suddenly alone at 95

Page 2: Holy Moly! Stars take on film roles of biblical proportions -- Willem Dafoe, Leelee Sobieski, Keanu Reeves, Charlton Heston, Ewan McGregor

Page 3: Jon Voight, Jim Caviezel, Ingrid Bergman, Christian Bale, Max von Sydow, Steve Carell, Milla Jovovich

Page 4: Garden of Delights -- floral fashion unfolds in spring -- Olivia Wilde, Mindy Kaling, Keira Knightley

Page 5: Sarah Paulson, Drew Barrymore, Tiffany Haddish, Penelope Cruz

Page 6: Brooke Shields has finally fought her way back after a nightmarish accident she was terrified would leave her paralyzed after she broke her right femur after falling off a balance board at her New York City gym -- Brooke said it felt like it was all in slow motion and then she just started screaming -- after two surgeries and a nearly three-week hospital stay, Brooke went home to her worried family, husband Chris Henchy and their daughters Rowan and Grier, but her nightmare wasn't over because a serious staph infection sent her back to the hospital for yet another surgery, saying for the first time in her life she thought she can't power through this and she can't even stand on her leg or go up a step and she needs to relearn how to even walk and she kept saying she could feel her toes because she was so afraid she would be paralyzed but if anything, she's a fighter -- now back at home and receiving physical therapy, Brooke feels like she's slowly on her way out of the woods and she knows she's got a long way to go, but she'll get there

Page 7: Do your pets suffer from mental illness? Humans aren't the only ones who can sink into depression or fall victim to stress and anxiety; household pets also have their share of mental illness, usually it's because there's something wrong in their environment and that means they probably don't need meds or a visit to the analyst's couch, just some sensitivity on your part and a little TLC and here's how to tell whether Fluffy, Fido or Tweety have problems you need to address -- dogs can have PTSD, birds get depressed, cats can have OCD, hamsters are hoarders

Page 9: Race Against COVID Mutants -- scientists scramble as virus variations gather strength

Page 10: In an incredible stroke of luck, and savvy cop intuition, a New York State Trooper saved a missing toddler from the top of a mountain

Page 11: 3 cheers for cherries -- it's cherry season again, and whether you like them sweet or tart, these deep red fruits pack a healthful punch

Page 12: After two years of dating and five years of marriage, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston split without children, then he went on to have six kids with Angelina Jolie, so if Brad wanted to have a great big family, why didn't he and Jennifer have children of their own? After suffering through a horrible public breakup, when her husband threw her over for Angie, poor Jennifer suffered even further indignation when she was raked over the coals for not giving Brad a baby, and vicious accusations began that it was her outright refusal to have a family that started their breakup and that made Jen furious, saying a man divorcing would never be accused of choosing career over family and she's never in her life said she didn't want to have children, and she did and she does want children and she will have them and the women who inspire her are the ones who have careers and children and she's always wanted to have children, and she would never give up that experience for a career and she wants to have it all -- in 2004, while Jennifer was finishing up with the ten-year run of her hit TV show Friends and Brad was doing the flick Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Jen was telling pals the time was finally right, and they were in a good place, ready to start a family and they were even preparing their home for a child by adding a playroom and a room for a nanny and they were definitely planning on having a kid but the plans were blown up when Mr. and Mrs. Smith was completed, and Brad left Jennifer for his co-star Angie, who already had a toddler and when she fell wildly in love with Brad, he also fell into the ready-made family and it turned out he liked being a dad so much, the couple have five more, three biological and two more adopted -- by the time Jennifer married Justin Theroux in 2015 and divorced two years later without a baby, she admitted that starting a family was a frightening prospect and that she had no regrets about her two marriages or remaining childless and she doesn't feel a void and her marriages have been very successful in her personal opinion, and she's sick of being beat up about it, saying there is a pressure on women to be mothers, and if they are not, then they're deemed damaged goods and maybe her purpose on this planet isn't to procreate; maybe she has other things she's supposed to do

Page 14: Dear Tony, America's Top Psychic Healer -- lying and dishonesty bring trouble to our world

Page 15: Sharon Stone starred in Basic Instinct and Casino and her life seemed to be glamorous, but behind the scenes it was a different story -- Sharon recently released her new memoir, in which she recalls the sexual abuse she and her sister Karen suffered as children and their mother's failure to protect them

Page 16: The shocking day Barry Manilow first discovered he had the heart condition AFib, he was alone and acted quickly to save his own life -- he was driving home and he felt his heart skip a beat, which doesn't sound like anything serious, so he didn't pay much attention to it and then it went blump-bla-bla-blump and it got crazier and crazier and he felt like there was a fish flopping around in his chest and it calmed down for a while, but later as he was watching TV, it started up again so he dialed his doctor, told him the problem and blurted what is this? He did what he was told and drove himself to the medical center in a panic to find out what was wrong with him and put a stop to it fast -- that first time was 25 years ago, but AFib is a lifetime problem that has to be monitored and battled consistently

Page 18: Here's some good news for fans of Don Johnson -- the actor says he's bringing one of his most beloved characters back to the small screen: Inspector Nash Bridges -- he confirmed during an appearance on The Ellen DeGeneres Show that's he's currently prepping a revival of the show that ran for six seasons from 1996 to 2000 and he said they're in heavy prep for a reboot of Nash Bridges and it's Nash some years later and Cheech Marin is going to come back, and Jeff Perry, and they've got a pretty exciting show that they're prepping in San Francisco right now

Page 19: Shaquille O'Neal was spreading the love when he overheard a man making a payment on his girlfriend's engagement ring and stepped in to buy it himself -- the generous moment took place in an Atlanta jewelry store, where Shaq says he just happened to be shopping for earrings and overheard the young kid, a hard-working guy asking to make a layaway payment on the ring and that's when Shaq said tell your girlfriend he's got it and promptly handed over his credit card and at first, the shocked guy tried to turn down the offer, but Shaq wouldn't hear of it -- Shaq said he's just trying to make people smile and the random acts of kindness make him happy

Page 20: Cover Story -- after 75 years with Prince Philip, the only man she has ever loved, widowed Queen Elizabeth has to find the strength to keep going

Page 22: Cool Uses for Cola -- pop open a can for cleaning, unclogging, cooking and more

Page 24: This little baby is the toughest survivor as she has already made it through COVID-19 and a liver transplant and you'd never know it to look at joyful Winter Moore, but she's been through more than many people endure in a lifetime, all before her first birthday

Page 25: Face Mask Mistakes -- here's how to do it right to protect your health

Page 26: When Irwin Allen's production of The Towering Inferno was released to stunned audiences in 1974, it represented the pinnacle disaster film and it was far and away the highest-grossing film of the year, with a whopping $203 million worldwide -- The Towering Inferno takes place on the opening night at the world's tallest skyscraper, where faulty wiring short-circuits start a fast-moving, out-of-control blaze that threatens the guests at the opening party on one of the top floors and to the rescue comes superstar Steve McQueen as larger-than-life Fire Chief Mike O'Hallorhan, and none other than the legendary Paul Newman as architect Doug Roberts -- here are some startling secrets from the flick: McQueen, Newman and William Holden all wanted top billing and Holden was turned down as McQueen and Newman had both become bigger stars so to provide dual top billing to both McQueen and Newman the credit were arranged diagonally with McQueen in the lower left and Newman in the upper right; Newman later regretted his decision to co-star with McQueen because of the rivalry between the two, created by Steve and as a result, the fireman role dominates Newman's architect; at McQueen's insistence, both characters have the same number of lines although McQueen's character doesn't appear until 43 minutes into the film and as a result, Newman had used almost half his lines before McQueen even enters; after seeing this film, novelist Roderick Thorp had a dream that same night about a man being chased through a skyscraper by gun-wielding assailants and this was the inspiration for his 1979 book Nothing Lasts Forever which eventually was made into another blockbuster film: Die Hard

Page 28: The Dashing Duke of Edinburgh -- Prince Philip was a study in elegance -- a look at Philip's long and amazing life

Page 40: Read Your Palm -- it holds your fate

Page 42: 10 things to know about Leonardo DiCaprio

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Blue Bloods castmates Steve Schirripa and Vanessa Ray and Bridget Moynahan share a lighthearted moment behind the scenes on the Brooklyn set (picture), Hugh Grant and wife Anna hit the red carpet in London (picture), Henry Cavill is flying high with a new galpal reality TV's Natalie Viscuso of Super Sweet 16, there may be a silver lining to Kelly Clarkson's ugly divorce with estranged husband Brandon Blackstock as she says she's written 60 new songs since their split, Christie Brinkley has called aging "the last frontier" as the longtime model seeks to continue her career in front of the camera at 67, Salma Hayek says her pet owl Kering stays in her bedroom with her when husband Francois-Henri Pinault is out of town, Dolly Parton delivered a heartfelt goodbye to her dear uncle and mentor Bill Owens

Page 45: Jay Leno is ready to take a spin in L.A. in a vintage purple Barracuda (picture), Percy Gibson escorts wife Joan Collins to dinner in Hollywood (picture), Patrick Dempsey filming Devils in Italy (picture), Matthew Perry posted a behind-the-scenes shot that showed him getting prepped to appear on camera for the Friends special and the posted racked up 27,000 likes before it was deleted without comment from the actor's account, Jessica Springsteen who is the daughter of Bruce Springsteen and wife Patti Scialfa could represent America at the Olympic Games in Tokyo as a champion equestrian, Rosie Perez claims she's been snubbed by the Academy Awards for more than two decades since she was nominated as a Best Supporting Actress in 1994

Page 46: Online dating isn't just for the younger crowd as studies show older adults are the fastest growing group trying it out -- if you're considering looking for love online, here are some guidelines to help you stay safe while maximizing your chances

Page 47: Fear of Flying -- these jetsetters would rather drive -- William Shatner, Jennifer Aniston, Ben Affleck, Megan Fox, Sandra Bullock, Whoopi Goldberg, Kate Winslet

[sunflowersensei-blog]

Here’s part 1 of this week’s monsterpost on Vampires and Slimes! I’ll be posting these one day at a time to give myself a little more time to finish writing and stuff. Here’s a portrait of the Duchess of the Jegra Highlands, Orchid Vericose. 

Let’s get into it!

About Vampires:

-Vampires are a race of humanoid monsters that hail from the Jegra Highlands, a hilly, mountainous region that sports rolling grassy knolls punctuated with jagged rocky cliffs. Scattered among the rocks are grand, lavish castles, some with modest hamlets and villages each populated by Vampires or their “cattle”.

-Like Devils, Vampires must hunt other living beings to survive. Unlike Devils, however, Vampires consume the blood of their victims, using specialized organs to process the blood and siphon the life essence from it, using the processed blood for body fluids. Their preferred prey are Humans from the World of Light, which they capture and enslave, turning them into mindless “cattle”, Humans who exist solely to serve their Vampire masters and give their blood freely to them. Most of the animosity between Devils and Vampires exists because of this competition for prey. Unlike Devils’ warm, fiery essence and erotic, sexual culture, Vampires are cold to the touch, solitary, quiet, contemplative, and often philosophical. Where you might find a Devil in the throes of lust in a brothel, a Vampire might steal away for a few hours in a library or museum.

-Vampires, in this universe, are not undead and are instead living creatures. Though they are immune to most diseases and age very slowly, they are not immortal and will eventually die of old age. The average lifespan of a Vampire is approximately 400 years, making them the second-longest living monster race after Black Slimes and Elder Vampires who are tied for longest living.

-Vampires procreate like any other living thing, giving live birth to usually only one child per pregnancy, though twins are an extremely rare possibility. Vampire children start as baby Vampires, with no fangs or any means to feed. They require their mother to feed them. Something a little gross here, but pregnant Vampire women lactate unprocessed blood from their nipples, rich in life essence and ready to feed their newborn children. This only lasts about a year or so before the children develop small baby fangs, allowing them to learn to feed on rodents and small animals and monsters. If they drink fresh blood regularly, Vampire children age like Human children do, reaching a puberty-like state where their permanent adult fangs grow in and they can start hunting on their own.

-Once a Vampire reaches the age of 16, they are considered an adult. What this means depends on the House they are from. Some Houses prefer to have their young adults go into the World of Light and hunt for their own cattle, while other Houses give a small number of starter cattle as a sign of their rights as an adult. It’s merely up to preference on the House’s part. An adult Vampire may choose to start their own House, but most stay in the safety and comfort of their birth House and learn the intricacies of Vampire politics there.

-Families and genealogy are very important to Vampires and their internal politics, with each family, or House, vying for land, resources, cattle, or in more recent times, closeness to the King. Generally, the oldest Houses are the most powerful and have the most resources, though recently Vampire politics has taken a shift as the most powerful House, House Vericose, is also the newest one. This mostly has to do with its founder, Julius Vericose, being born in the ancient House Gram, the second-most powerful House, having a deep connection to the Kingdom, and being granted many favors by the King. Many other Houses contest that, having been around for only a scant 25 years, House Vericose is doomed to fall into obscurity if their connection to the crown ever falters, but it is yet to be seen if this is only idle speculation or not.

-Vampires possess many powers and abilities which make them terrifying foes on the battlefield, and excellent predators of mankind. Vampires can fly at will, without the need for wings, by manipulation of the magic flux around them. They can teleport short distances, move faster than the eye can see, and possess incredible strength and toughness. Like Lycanthropes, Elder Vampires, and Demons, Vampires can regenerate any wound almost instantly. Vampires also possess the same illusion magic and mind manipulation that Devils do, allowing them to move about among Humans unrecognized. They can also abuse their thirst for blood and drain an opponent dry in minutes, killing them. Vampires don’t have any natural weapons and must rely on Human-made weapons to cut, pierce, or slice, but their studious nature, combined with their strength and agility, make them deadly fighters and swordsmen.

-However, their power is not without limit; if a Vampire takes too much damage, they can run out of blood, fail to regenerate, and die. This regenerative power also comes with it a potential fault: a rare genetic disease known as “Regeneration Sickness”, which causes the carrier to regenerate incorrectly, resulting in extreme pain as bones and organs grow in the wrong place. This condition requires constant surgery to treat, and most who have the condition die before they reach 200 years old. Vampires are also weak to fire magic and must make certain to stay far away from the Kingdom of Light when they hunt for cattle, lest they attract the attention of the Sunlight Scripture and their Celestial Paladins.

About Orchid:

-Orchid Vericose is the second-oldest child of Julius and Vivian Vericose, and at 18 years old, she is, in all rights, an adult Vampire. However, her body is stunted into a childish form due to her inability to drink Human blood. This is a penalty imposed upon her for her crime against her House: destruction of property. 

-When Orchid was 10 years old, her father gave her one of his own cattle, a desert tribeswoman from the World of Light, for her to learn to feed on Humans, giving her the ultimatum that if Orchid killed her, she would be forbidden from drinking Human blood until she was mature enough to have learned her lesson. Being young, hungry, and oblivious to how the world worked, Orchid satisfied her voracious thirst, accidentally drinking all of the cattle’s blood, killing the defenseless woman. Not knowing what she did, she tried desperately to revive the dead tribeswoman, but remained unsuccessful.

-When her father returned, he saw what Orchid had done, and punished her. This also marked when Orchid became the Duchess of Jegra, taking her mother’s title, as Vivian suffered from Regeneration Sickness and was too weak to leave their castle in the highlands. When the King of Night agreed to award the titles of Duke and Duchess to House Vericose, Julius saw this as an opportunity to teach his young, ill-mannered child the way of the world while keeping her punishment intact at the same time.

-By decree of the King of Night, Dukes and Duchesses must live at Court and are unable to leave the castle without special permission. This is how Julius saw to keep his daughter from drinking Human blood. As a young Duchess of 10 living at Court, Orchid’s life was hard. She needed to drink blood to survive, but had no cattle and was forbidden from drinking the blood of her fellow monsters, not that she even had the strength to do so. She eventually found her way to the waste tunnels beneath the dungeons, desperately searching for something, anything, to drink. She found rats. She fed on the rats. She cried.

-Growing up this way made her cold to others, snappy and sarcastic, with a cruel streak that led her to play pranks, spread rumors, and bully smaller monsters and animals. Around this time, a young Princess took interest in Orchid, following her, hiding in her shadow, and learning of her wounded and lonely heart. So, Helen reached out to Orchid and befriended her. After the two started playing and growing close, Orchid’s cruel streak dried up and her personality became less pointed, though she never lost her dark, sarcastic sense of humor. 

-As they grew up, Helen and Orchid became like sisters. Helen’s warm affection made Orchid’s punishment seem less difficult. Eventually, other girls their age became Duchesses and moved into Court, giving Orchid the chance to interact with other monsters on her own, gaining new friends and enemies, and overall growing as a person.

-Now, Helen, Orchid, Aiwa, and Luna (the Lycanthrope Duchess) form a group of friends who support each other and help pass the time as they grow into young women within the confines of the Court of Night, though Aiwa and Orchid have a longstanding rivalry and somewhat mutual distrust of each other, especially considering Orchid has a crush on Lemus, Aiwa’s brother.

Well, that’s part 1. Part 2 will be tomorrow (hopefully) and I’ll cover Vampire families, politics, and the mysterious “Concepts”! Hope you enjoy!