#also. i can’t fucking believe the shape of punk to come is TWENTY FIVE

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: His Name Is Alive

While Warren Defever’s name is perhaps less recognizable than that of his band His Name Is Alive, he’s also been connected with a seemingly endless array of other projects: Princess Dragon-Mom, Elvis Hitler, ESP Beetles, Control Panel, and far more. This doesn’t get into his recording and production credits for the likes of Michael Hurley, Iggy and the Stooges, and Mdou Moctar. Forever associated with Michigan’s weirdo-underground music scene, Defever has recently been issuing a series of long-buried recordings as His Name Is Alive. In February, the Disciples label released Hope Is a Candle, the third and final volume in the "Home Recordings" trilogy exploring Defever's teenage tape experimentation as well as A Silver Thread (Home Recordings 1979 - 1990), a four-volume collection of many of Defever’s solo home recordings prior to His Name Is Alive releasing their debut album Livonia on 4AD in 1990. In his review of A Silver Thread, Tim Clarke writes “For a collection of home recordings, what’s most striking about this music is how fully realized and carefully executed it sounds, comparable at times to contemporary artists such as Grouper, Benoît Pioulard and Tim Hecker. This is not the 1980s that I remember.”

Defever gives us his “What Else Is New” list, a set of personal snapshots, memories of a life spent in music, warning the reader that “the descriptions don’t always have an obvious correlation to the video, but welcome to my nightmare brain.”

In The Line of Fire

I started performing when I was five. My grandfather was a self-taught musician from Saskatchewan in Western Canada and he showed me and my brothers how to play banjo, guitar and fiddle. One of my earliest memories is having a full size 127 lb. accordion placed onto my lap and my grandmother voicing her disappointment when I refused to play. I did learn slide guitar from her later though. I have many, often terrible, memories of performing at square dances with his band and we would play old timey country music, folk songs, polkas and waltzes. There were also gigs at the trailer park, old folks homes and a convent. Although my grandfather believed that popular music died with Hank Williams in 1953, he still found room in his heart for Lawrence Welk and Slim Whitman.

Meet Me By The Water

By age ten I had a tape recorder and was using it to capture the sounds of nearby lakes, thunderstorms, and my older brothers LP collection played at the wrong speeds. I recently found the cassette, Echo Lake (1983) which features waves crashing onto the beach on the Canadian side of Lake St. Clair but it was recorded right after I got an echo pedal so it’s got a heavy dose of dreamy delay. Tape loops of the next door neighbor raking leaves and shoveling the driveway would be repurposed a few years later as rhythm tracks on the first His Name Is Alive LP, Livonia (4AD, 1990). Detroit in the late 70s and early 80s had totally insane radio and one of the highlights was Met-Ezzthetics, a late night show on WDET hosted by Faruq Z. Bey who also played saxophone in Griot Galaxy. Shortly before his death he played with His Name is Alive and we had a chance to formalize our student-teacher relationship.

Search For Higher Energies

In high school I was studying Bach Chorale harmonization and counterpoint during the day but recording and touring with the band Elvis Hitler at night. The other guys in band were older but at 16 I was a familiar sight at shitty Detroit punk clubs and Hamtramck dive bars, the nerdy teenager reading a book or doing homework sitting at the bar waiting ’til midnight or 1am for our slot to play our hellbilly hits, “It’s A Long Way From Berlin To Memphis,” and “Hot Rod To Hell.” I was still trying to make sense of the post 1953 music scene and when I met the guy with a giant afro and shiny super hero outfit complete with shiny cape I had no idea he was Rob Tyner of the MC5. We released three records before I was twenty one and played shows and toured with Devo, the Dwarves, the Dead Milkmen, Reverend Horton Heat, the Beat Farmers, Helios Creed, Babes In Toyland, the Cro-Mags, Corrosion of Conformity, the Frogs, the Gories, Pussy Galore, the Unsane and way more I can’t remember I was just a kid. It was some kind of education.

You Don’t Have To Go Home But You Can’t Stay Here

When I signed with 4AD I thought I was a composer and they let me write my own bio, so I called His Name Is Alive the work of a “fucked up, irresponsible teenage composer.” I had only been writing music for three years. When I heard “Tom Violence” by Sonic Youth I thought for the first time in my life, “I think I could do that.” In 1988 I made a mixtape with Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car, Leadbelly and some of Big Star’s third album and I tried to arrange it like it was an album, then I made my own album in that same shape, it was called I Had Sex With God and I sent it to 4AD. Our first album contained three of the first five pieces of music I had ever written. Within a few years I was playing festivals for contemporary classical composers and new age artists who were thirty or forty years older than me. His Name Is Alive played the Musicas Visuales Festival in Mexico with Harold Budd, Paul Horn and Jorge Reyes. The mayor of the city presented me with a guitar but then dramatically walked out of the theater during our performance realizing he had made a terrible mistake. I remember the surreal moment when from across the room Harold Budd walked in and greeted me as “Mr. Defever.” He had a cold and was sniffling during his set, the audience thought he was crying. I recorded his show and when I got back home to Livonia I added my own guitar to some of his songs and then edited the tapes, looping my favorite parts and editing out the parts I didn’t like, also adding additional layers of reverb and echo. More recently I did a concert in a five hundred year old temple in Japan where the unamplified meditation music never rose above a whisper and the monk had to turn off the furnace because the heat molecules were too loud. The show was recorded and released under the name Mountain Ocean Sun and features Ian Masters and Hitoko Sakai.

Energy Dealer

Both my parents were born in Canada, my mother in Saskatchewan, my father in Ontario. I have dual citizenship as my father was American and my mother had Canadian citizenship. I spent summers, holidays and weekends in a tiny cottage on Lake St. Clair that did not have a telephone and had curtains instead of doors separating the two rooms. Myrt Fortin who lived next door would receive phone calls for my mom, walk over to our place and yell into the window, “Hey wake up your ma, your dad’s on the phone.” My mom took a lot of naps, so she was always asleep when something important was happening. I remember always getting cut on broken glass while swimming in the lake or getting stabbed by one of the neighbors and having to go wake up my mom to take me to the hospital.

Lord I Don’t Believe You Exist

When I was ten my parents sat me down and told me it was time that I got a summer job. There were only two businesses in town, a gas station and a hardware store so I walked up to the hardware store and asked the owner for a job and immediately fell to the ground crying. Completely fell apart. He asked me why I wanted to work in hardware. I didn’t know what to say, I was only ten but I knew not to tell the owner that his store was stupid and I didn’t think he could handle the truth. It turned out he also owned the gas station so that didn’t really work out. Later that summer, I began working for the Pickseed Corporation as corn de-tasseling season was just beginning. All the moms would drop off their kids in the church parking lot in Tecumseh, just outside of Windsor, around 4:30am where an unmarked windowless cargo van was waiting that had cinderblocks and 2'x4' boards instead of benches so they could squeeze in the maximum amount of children. There were three job requirements to work in a cornfield, the child (it was only children, no adults) needed to show up with a baseball hat, a thermos with water and a large black plastic garbage bag. I think this was before sunglasses were invented. Upon arriving at the cornfield, we were separated into pickers and checkers, younger kids each taking a row of corn (a row could extend a mile or more) and a slightly older kid would organize and manage several of the younger kids. In the morning we were instructed to poke two arm holes and a head hole into our garbage bags and put it on like a raincoat because the corn was covered in dew and kids wearing wet clothes would walk slower than dry kids. So almost every day there was a point, usually around 11am when the dew would dry and we would be roasted alive from the summer sun coming down on our ridiculous shiny black plastic outfits. We worked from sun up until sun down. I received three dollars and thirty five cents an hour. For all you city folks, corn is planted in alternating rows of types of corn so that when the top part of the plant is removed, or “de-tasseled,” it can seed or cross-pollinate easily. It’s a terrible job with a high turnover rate and every day I would hear the sound of kids in nearby rows that had given up hope, sat down in the middle of the field and crying for hours. The following year, at age 11, I was promoted from picker to checker, and was put in charge of a group of about ten sixteen year old’s.

Sleep It Off

Mostly I like to record – His Name is Alive has over a hundred releases and I’ve done another fifty records under various names, Control Panel, Warren Michael Defever, ESP BEETLES, ESP SUMMER, Forest People, Infinity People, Jeepers Creepers, Layla al-Akhyaliyya, Mirror Dream, Princess Dragon-Mom, the Dirt Eaters, the Fishcats, the Whales, plus way more I can’t remember probably because the names were so dumb. I’ve recorded about four hundred records for other bands at my house or other studios. I’ve worked on records with Danny Kroha, Ida, Fred Thomas, Elizabeth Mitchell, Wild Belle, Michael Hurley, and when I was a teenager I helped record the first Gories album which was especially unique as I was the junior assistant engineer who helped move their equipment into the dirt floor garage next to the studio where it was decided the acoustics would be way worse. Also, I helped collage about a hundred Destroy All Monsters tapes from the 70s for a couple of their releases which led to remastering a bunch of tapes from the John Sinclair White Panther Party archives. I’ve done remixes for Thurston Moore and Yoko Ono and when Iggy and The Stooges started touring again I got a phone call from Ron Asheton seeing if I would help them record demos for their reunion album with Mike Watt on bass. They wrote the songs together while they were recording in Niagara’s basement sort of simultaneously. Iggy didn’t have a notebook with all his lyric ideas, instead he just sang about whatever happened that day – one song was about the airline losing his luggage, one about ATM machines and another was about reading in a newspaper that Ray Davies of the Kinks had been shot in New Orleans. In the end they weren’t terribly excited by my suggested song titles including “No Shirt” (you know because it’s like “No Fun” plus you know Iggy never wears a shirt) and they didn’t seem to love the mixes that I did that sounded kind of like those crappy Raw Power bootlegs.

Cost Of Living

Two summers ago I recorded an incredible concert by Mdou Moctar live at Third Man Records in Detroit. They’re wild hypnotic Hendrix style jammers who live in the desert. The band didn’t speak much english but I think I was able to communicate to them how excited I was about their amazing fingerpicking and hot guitar solos after the show by screaming and replaying the best solos over and over again and then screaming the word fuzz and pointing at their fingers. It’s insane and having seen them a few times since then with a different drummer and the addition of a bass player, I’m convinced it’s their best album. It’s wild but it’s still not Tchin-tabaraden wedding wild.

Licked By Lions

Jonathan Richman walks into Ethan and Gretchen's studio and asks if I can remove all the rugs, take the acoustic treatments off the walls and strike the baffles which normally separate the instruments, drums and amps, so the room will have the most echo possible, he has also invited about ten friends including Johnny Bee Badanjek the drummer from Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels and Mary Cobra from the Detroit Cobras to dance, sing and play percussion in the studio while he records. He has two vocal microphones set up at either end of the room and has brought his own microphones for the drums along with his own desired placement for them. He notices a tamboura near the control room and asks if I know how to play it or if I know how to tune it. Within seconds he’s tuned it and proceeds to sing Indian classical music accompanying himself on tamboura drone for about thirty five minutes. It’s beautiful and very surprising. He asks me if I recorded it, I lie and say no. Later he asks me not to play it for anyone. We record for hours. Some songs are quite long – ten and fifteen minutes, some are medleys of oldies or soft rock hits from the seventies segueing into new songs of his. It’s a confusing session as it’s not clear when songs are starting and ending and he often plays guitar and sings nowhere near a microphone. The distance between him and the microphone seems to have some meaning, there’s some formula to when he chooses to walk away in the middle of a verse but I am unable to determine the secret code. At the end of the session three or four songs are deemed usable, edited and mixed, although, sadly, an attempt at a completely insane and unexpected fuzz guitar solo is left unreleased. (The Harold Budd piece is at the opposite end of this spectrum.)

Calling All Believers

Shortly after Tecuciztecatl was released, I received an email from Dr. James Beacham at CERN inviting us to perform at a series of concerts that would combine experimental music with experimental science at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland. He didn’t contact our booking agent, which would be how we generally receive offers for gigs, instead he sent an email to me, which would be how we generally receive crazy messages from our completely insane fans (murderous, delusional, poetic, threatening messages usually). I assumed the invitation was fake or a prank and replied that we would prefer to wait until they had successfully opened a pathway to interspatial dimensions and we’d play on the other side or that if that was unlikely to happen at a convenient time then perhaps we could set up our equipment right on the edge of a mini-black hole and perform as the Earth is being destroyed so we could release the concert film “Live At The End Of The World.” After a few messages back and forth, it was clear that he was legit and I apologized for being such a jerk. Soon I discovered poetry within the language of particle physics as well as a certain beauty in the idea that these scientists have devoted their lives to dreaming, searching and discovering basic principles that connect all things in existence. The song “Calling All Believers” refers to this devotion. “Energy Acceleration” compares the scientists to monastic life in medieval times and mystics trying to find and define the line between this world and the next and at the same time invoking the incredible amounts of energy needed to create the collisions experiments. The Patterns of Light LP was released in 2016 on London London Records and is about interpreting visions of light, trying to find universal truth with whatever tools available, it’s about the search for how everything works, why it works and how it got that way but also about being inspired on a basic level by the way a thing looks and how all your senses take in a thing. A thousand years ago Hildegard Von Bingen was writing about this same thing in letters, songs, medical texts, and had even developed her own language to use in her mystical writings, similar to Magma drummer Christian Vander using his own language for their concept albums or French black metalists Brenoritvrezorkre and Moëvöt.

The Light Inside You

We get a lot of letters from fans, mostly weirdos though. I think it started when we released Song of Schizophrenia, that sort of connected us to a certain demographic I suspect. Here’s a recent typical message we received. “Growing up in Panama City, Mouth By Mouth and Livonia were like passages to other realms. I drank a ton of cough syrup at the time but those albums helped make life more livable. I was about to go to art school for sculpture and graphic design and the textures I heard on those records had actual shapes to them. Most music I knew at that time was flat or linear. I got them on cassette via mail-order from an ad placed in a bmx magazine. Mouth By Mouth arrived just before going to work at the amusement park and I was able to listen to it twice on the way thanks to the never-ending beach traffic. As luck would have it, I worked on “The Abominable Snowman” ride, basically a tilt-a-whirl inside a dome with lots of fog machine action, blue lights, mirrors, and lots of air conditioning. It took about 10 listens that day before it wasn’t as weird as when I first put it on. Maybe it was my bubblegum flavor/robitussin combo slushie on top of no-doz that pulled it all together, but it was probably a weird ride for a lot of vacationing beach tourists and townies when all they really wanted to hear was “Naughty by Nature” by O.P.P. I had no business running those rides at the age of 17 but I really loved how disorienting that ride could be with all the mirrors, the fog, the cold and for the final 90 seconds the ride would go in reverse. I had a buddy named Kevin that did acid at work and would repeatedly run the mini-train off the tracks and all the riders had to walk back through the woods for about a half mile that summer.”

[tackyink]

Here’s what would amount to chapter 1 of the fic I started the other day if I ever decide to work on it seriously. It’s the same two scenes as last plus a new one, so it’s very short, but I’ve laughed a lot writing it.

I also realized this thing has a lot of potential to merge with Inked on Skin by Wano and I can’t believe I’m here, free at last after five years busting my ass, and suddenly thinking it would be cool to make a whole fic verse with my One Piece OCs.

=======================

It was the sunniest it had been in weeks. Clear skies, twenty-seven degrees, calm clouds and weak northwestern winds blowing from Skypiea.

Veleta had left a note on the dining table telling potential travelers to feel free to use her home to rest while she was away, and to please not touch the meteorological station next to the vegetable garden. The connection to her dad’s team had been lost for six months already, so there wasn’t much for her to do and she was dying of boredom, but he might come back for it one of these days. Who knew? Not her!

She adjusted one last time the straps of her swimming vest and backpack. Her grin gleamed under the sun almost as much as the pair of riding goggles she was wearing.  

“Ready, set…” She gripped the handles of her waver firmly. “Go!”

She hit the gas and rode in a straight line towards the horizon. The White-White Sea cloud formations had some variation from day to day, but she had already determined that that was the shorter point between her home and absolute nothingness.

Other people might have called her suicidal and wondered what drove her to do this, but if Veleta had to be compared to one of the characters of the tabletop game her dad liked to play when they had visitors, she would have rolled 20 Intelligence and 2 Wisdom.

It took her a good half an hour to reach the place she was shooting for, and when she got there, with the absolute confidence of a fool with too much pride in her ideas, she drove off the white clouds into the endless blue, and a few seconds after she started dropping at breakneck speed, she hit the special button she had built into the waver and a parachute shot out of it, slowing her descent until it was safe to kick back and enjoy the view.

There was only sky, distant clouds and water as far as the eye could see, with a few dots sailing through it that must have been ships, and the promise of an island, a real island made of Vearth, far, far way. Veleta made it a mental goal to sail there.

She was elated. Her heart pounded inside her chest with excitement, and her face hurt from smiling so much. Her world was about to get so big!

And then one of the ropes securing the parachute to the waver snapped, and she was freefalling again.

With a screech that was probably heard in at least two seas above and another couple below, Veleta finished her leisurely descent by crashing into the ocean with an upturned waver and getting her backpack’s mesh caught on the breath dial exhaust. On one hand, it was a good thing that she was floating thanks to the swimming vest. On the other, she had fallen face down, and the extra buoyancy wasn’t doing her much good, considering she couldn’t turn around.

Devil Fruits weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

—

Eustass Kid was watching time pass on the prow of the Victoria Punk when he saw a projectile falling from the sky and into the sea with a spectacular splash.

He squinted at the shape of a small boat ahead and asked Killer, “The fuck is that?”

—

As it turned out, ‘that’ happened to be a pink haired girl and her failing vehicle, though a girl who didn’t know she was being appraised when she was caught in a fishing net and dragged onto a dry surface. In fact, she was having a pretty hard time staying conscious at all, and the only energy she could divert from that task was being wasted on feeling grateful that she’d been found.

When she was pulled out of the water, still tangled in the net but able to move, Veleta spent the next three minutes or so coughing out water and doing her best to hurl out the contents of her stomach into the ocean and not on these kind strangers’ ship. Said strangers gathered near her and their conversation turned increasingly confused, but they all stared at her from a distance. Perhaps the vomit had something to do with it.

She gasped for air when water stopped coming out and turned around to face her saviors and thank them, but what came out of her mouth was another screech when she saw that she was inside of a fish’s maw.

“OHGODWE’REGETTINGEATEN!” She reached for her backpack to pull out something to defend herself, but she managed to get even more tangled in the net, and she stopped struggling when she noticed no one else shared her urgency. “Huh?”

“We’re in a figurehead,” a man hiding behind a striped mask explained.

“This is a ship?!” She gaped, looking around her again. She could’ve never told that she wasn’t in a real fish. “Oh, excuse my rudeness!” She bowed, still on her knees, or tried to. Not a lot of freedom of movement inside a fishing net. “I’m Lockheed Veleta.” She flashed them a smile. “Thank you so much for saving me!”

Nobody replied right away, as if she had said something awkward. Did she make a faux-pas already? She had known people from the Blue Sea, but maybe they had a different culture. She sure as heck had never met anybody who dressed like them. Or… had a stitched mouth… but she didn’t stare, because that would surely have been rude. Maybe he had been in an accident. Maybe it was a fashion? She wanted to learn about those too. There wasn’t a lot of variety in her little island.

“How did you do that?” The redhead asked. He had a pair of goggles, too, and Veleta recognized in him a fellow stickler for safety measures. The rest of the men had been eyeing him when they weren’t staring at Veleta, so she assumed he was their leader.

“Do what?”

“Drop in the middle of the ocean!”

“Oh, of course! My parachute failed,” she said, lifting a little the tarp. It was a bit cramped inside the net, between it, the waver, her bag and herself, but she was chipper nonetheless. “I thought I was done for!”

“What are you on about?” He replied, sounding increasingly irritated. “We’re at open sea, you have to have fallen from somewhere!”

“Oooh, right! Sorry, I didn’t explain myself very well, did I?” She laughed at her own silliness. “I come from an island in the White-White Sea!”

There was another awkward silence as their confusion grew. Veleta’s smile didn’t waver.

“The White-White Sea?” The man in the mask repeated.

“Yeah! You know, where the sky islands are?” There were no signs of recognition in their faces. “People in the Blue Sea know there are islands above… right?”

A gloomy looking man wearing a hood with cute ears, conceding her point, telling the others, “She has wings.”

“I thought they were an accessory,” said the one with the stitched mouth.

“What? No! I can move them, see?” She did so as she pointed at her back.

The redhead didn’t look convinced. “Then why didn’t you fly down instead of freefalling?”

“I didn’t mean to! The parachute was supposed to work!” She was very surprised that these people were being so skeptical. “And I can’t fly! Nobody can, that’s scientifically impossible.”

The captain looked at her with a mix of disdain and disbelief and told the men, “I can’t be assed with this. Kick her off, skin her alive, do whatever you want.”

He began to walk towards the throat of the gaping fish mouth, and Veleta eyed warily the two men that approached her, but she relaxed when they only let her out of the net.

“Oh, thank you so, so much!” She said again, this time bowing properly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness!”

Veleta didn’t know why that was, but they looked mighty uncomfortable every time she thanked them. It had to be a cultural thing. Something to investigate. Maybe she needed to be more subtle? Some people were easily embarrassed by open gratitude.

Well, no matter, they seemed friendly people, even if their captain was a little grouchy. And he had a right to be, Veleta was intruding in their ship, after all. She pulled her waver upright and tested the wood to make sure it wasn’t broken. The sooner she could stop bothering them, the better.

She was gathering the tarp and ropes and shoving them at the back of the waver when the masked man said, “I’ve never seen that type of vehicle.”

Veleta was very glad to break the silence and even more to explain how her vehicle worked. “It’s a waver! We use them to sail in the sea clouds.” She twisted the handle a little so they could see the wind blowing out of the exhaust. The waver escaped her grasp for a second, but she caught it before it could launch itself towards one of her saviors. “They’re very practical, but it takes a lot of time to learn to ride one.”

Apparently, the captain hadn’t gone very far yet, because that caught his attention and he walked a few steps towards the group just to say, “Doesn’t look like you’re any good at it.”

Veleta laughed. “That’s a good one!” She had made an impressive entrance from their point of view, she realized. And she could see the gleam of curiosity in his eyes, even if he wasn’t saying anything. “But they aren’t made to fly!”

He didn’t look very happy with her response. “How’s it work? I don’t see an engine.”

“Aha!” Her eyes lit up. This was her favorite part each time she met explorers from the Blue Sea. “Here’s the trick!” She crouched behind the waver and fiddled with something inside the exhaust pipe until a piece came loose. She took out the dial that powered it and showed it to the crew. “It’s a breath dial!” She pushed the top, and it expelled a gust of wind strong enough in the captain’s face to make him take a step back. She offered it up for examination. “It’s really easy to use.”

He took the dial as his men watched him test it a few times with interest. “Not bad,” he said.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” mumbled the man with the stitched mouth.

“Cool, isn’t it?” Veleta said with a grin, and she extended her hands towards the redhead to take the dial back.

The man looked at the dial, then at Veleta with a grin that could have mirrored her own if she looked like she was about to snap someone’s neck every time she smiled, which she did not. “I’ll take this as repayment.”

“Eh?” She uttered in confusion, which gave way to panic when she realized he wasn’t giving it back and he was walking away again. “EEEH?!”

“Toss her out!” He barked without looking back, motioning at the sea with a hand.

The rest of the crew didn’t waste a moment to drop the waver back in the water, grab Veleta from under her arms and launch her onto her little vessel.

“Wait!” She yelled. “I need that dial to sail! You can’t leave me here!”

But the men had stopped paying attention to her the moment they flung her away. The strange ship that had rescued her unceremoniously sailed past her, dangerously rocking her waver and abandoning her to her luck in the middle of an unknown sea.

[hardcorefangirlgroupie]

Punk à Chien (Punk with a dog) Chapter 01

Rating : Mature Chapter : 1/2  Relationship : Lucifer/Sam Winchester Words : 2 463 Additional tags : Punk!Lucifer - Freeform ,lawyer!Sam ,Lucifer being a stalker, Dean being a protective brother Summary:This story must was an OS but I have too much inspiration for this, I guess.Sam Winchester is a lawyer. He takes one week holiday in the middle of spring in his hometown. He stays in his brother's house to relax a little when a day during his footing, Sam found a hurt lost dog. He decided to takes care of this beautiful female. But he didn't expect to meet the dog's owner...

Tag : @brieflymaximumprincess, @charlie-bradcherry, @thisisnotsteva

Read it on AO3

Samuel Winchester was a very engaged lawyer in the big city called Kansas City. The 28 years old man decided to take some times off to rest a little in his childhood home in Lawrence. Nowadays, it was his big brother, Dean, who owns the family house. Their parent has died in a car crash a few years ago. So Sam decided to move on and starts a fresh start in Kansas City whereas Dean preferred to stays here. This is the reason why the brown haired man took one week in the middle of the spring; he also wants to pay a visit to his lovely big brother. The mechanist welcomed his little baby brother with such enthusiasm. Sometimes, he felt so lonely in this big house witch radiated joy and happiness before their parents died and they grow up.

Early in the morning, the young lawyer decided to jog a little in the neighborhood to get back in shape. He also wanted to breathe the fresh morning air of his home town. It felt so good to feel the fresh spring breeze on his cheekbones and on his skin. He tied his hair in a ponytail to not have his hair in the face when he was running. He liked to navigate in deserted streets early in the morning and was the only one to tread the ground. It relaxed him a lot.

Suddenly, off an alleyway, Sam heard a plaintive cry. He has stopped abruptly to hear the complaint better: it was a painful groan of a dog. Without waiting a second more, the lawyer took off his earbuds and run with softness towards the animal. It was a young female who lost a lot of blood on abdomen level. She was lacerated by a knife. Others marks and bites were visible on other parts of her body. The dog complaint broke Sam’s heart and he couldn’t help thinking about murder men who did that. The female easily let the brown haired man approach her and let him examine her before passed out in Sam’s arms.

“Don’t worry beautiful, everything’s going to be ok. I’ll take you to the veterinary and everything is going to be ok. You will able to run with your friends again.” Samuel noticed a collar on dog’s neck;

she belonged to Crowley’s kennel. She must have escaped. Once she will be healed, Sam promised her to take her back to Crowley’s. The young man ran to the veterinary to save this poor beauceron from the death.

Dean has finally given his approval to keep Fortuna after his little brother’s complaints. Sam had given this name to the dog that he has saved of a certain death. The blond haired one thought that it could have been worse; his brother could have brought a cat. However, lived with Fortuna for the past week it was so exhausting. The dog only obeyed Sam.When Dean was alone with her, it was a mess in the house among the upside down objects and groan all day long. It was a bizarre situation and the oldest Winchester quickly let down to understand Fortuna. She completely changed when she saw his brother and asked him a lot of strokes.

But Today is a bad one; Fortuna must go back to the kennel.  Sam stayed in bed this morning, wanting to postpone this fatidic moment.  Fortuna came early to lick his face to wake him. Sam liked his sweets awakening with the dog but everything has an end. The lawyer decided to pass his last day with Fortuna before going to the kennel. The dog was annoyed that was not her habit when she was with Sam.  The brown haired one knew that the beauceron guessed that she go back to the kennel. He doesn’t want any trouble with Fortuna’s owner.  Besides, it was a rude man and not friendly at all according to Dean.  Sam made the hypothesis that Fortuna had been bite by the others kennel dogs.  But he has no other choice; the dog doesn’t belong to him.

After a beautiful walk in the park in the late afternoon, it was time to go to the kennel. The two acolytes slowly walked to the place where they will be separated. It generally took five minutes to go to the kennel but they took twenty minutes. Fortuna doesn’t stop barking whereas Sam looks at her with a sad puppy face during pet her behind the ears.

Finally, they were in front of a dark portal. It looked like more than a prison and it gave shivers. Fortuna tried to reassure him with a head butt in his leg. Sam took a deep breath before ring on the interphone. The atmosphere was gloomy, no surprise that the dog didn’t want to go back in here.

“Hello let me introduce myself; I am Sam Winchester. I found one of your dogs in the street. She was badly hurt, began the lawyer. - This bitch? This stubborn dog who only obey Lucifer? No really you can keep her. I give you this bitch! A gift for you! Now go away moose!”

The Young Winchester can’t believe that he heard and finally he didn’t know who he talked with, certainly the kennel owner. He wanted to know who this Lucifer was. In Other hand, he can keep Fortuna for him. Happy, the brown haired one took different street to go back in family home.  Everything was so shiny now.  Sam finally has a dog!

On the way through an alley, we could hear some punk music which resonated in the entire street. Samuel guessed rapidly where the music came from.  A little further in the street, a blonde man who has spike hair, tried to fix something in his black van engine block.  The punk wore an old blue jean with a sleeveless flannel shirt and big black boots. A black perfecto was on the cool box which certainly contained lot of beer bottles.

More the Winchester move forward more he could hear the punk singing the lyrics of the song witch was on the radio. And he remarked something interesting:  the mechanist moved his little butt thigh in his jean very well.

It was Fortuna who interrupted Sam. The dog ran toward the stranger, completely mad like she was happy to see him again. The punk stopped what he was doing and wiped his hand with a small black fabric and then he put it on his jean back pocket. The blonde one kneeled and opened his arm to welcome the dog. “Ramsey, my beauty!- he exclaimed happily.”

One again, Sam was surprised. Who was this stranger for his beautiful Fortuna? The brown haired one remarked that she only obeys him so who was the blonde? This Lucifer? This name gave him shivers. He wanted to learn more about this mysterious beautiful face.

The punk stood up after many flick of dog’s tongue. He was smiling.

Sam could looked at him more in details and saw his face. The mysterious man seemed older than him. He has a beautiful three days beard which was dark blond as his hair. He was smirked. The lawyer could not tell if he wanted to kill or laid down with him on a bed or both. Samuel swallowed. The blond has a tattoo on his left arm. It was two daggers in a heart.  His shirt opened on a green sleeveless top brought his biceps out.

Lucifer walked towards Sam. He smiled to him before he passed his tongue on his mouth, irresistible.

“So tell me Samuel, how can you walk in the streets with my dog? Started the punk.”

The youngest Winchester didn’t know how to react. How can the punk know his name? This day was full of surprise.  He didn’t find a word to say to Lucifer except telling the truth.

“I found Fortuna seriously injured in the street and I lead her to the veterinary before I took her with me in my home. I wanted to give her back to his owner but he didn’t want her. This guy seemed shady. - Sam, dear Sam, I am his owner. Crowley is a turd who got back my business. You named her Fortuna? Well, a better name than Ramsey, I’m afraid. It is so weird that she obeyed to you; I mean usually she only obeyed to me. Why she choose you? We must have a bond or shit like this!”

During his reflection, the blond has his right index on his chin and he was pouting. Samuel was surprised by how his interlocutor could be relaxed. He wanted to ask him so many questions.

At the time Sam wanted to come closer to the blond, this one increased the sound of the small radio and was starting to do some disordered movement throwing his legs and his arms in front of him. He moved in synchronization with the music and the greasy chords.

“I’ m just a person like you

But I’ve better things to do

Then sit around and fuck my head

Hang out with the living dead

Snort white shit up my nose “

The blond seemed possessed when he was dancing. Sam has must been scared of him but not at all. He developed a fascination for him. Fortuna’s judgement did a lot. The lawyer was impressed by the punk’s crazy dance and the dog seemed to move with rhythm.  We could see that they have a profound trust relationship. The blond man was, without a doubt, Fortuna’s owner. It was so beautiful to see.  Sam wanted to have a relation like this. He was happy to see Fortuna, no Ramsey, had found his owner.  But in other hand, he was also sad; he will never see her again.

After the briefly song of Minor Threat, the radio broadcasted the famous song of the Stooges: The Passengers. Sam didn’t know what to do. The mechanist stopped to dance before took his breath back. He took off his shirt before put his jacket back. The blond took two beer out of the blue cool box and gave one bottle to Sam. Samuel met the punk’s blue glacial gaze and felt his temperature get higher. The blond leaned on his van.

“How did you know my name ? Lucifer? “

Sam leaned on the wall with his left feet on the old building.  The blond did for the millionth time a malicious smile after the brown haired man question. He really liked Sam for his question and for his cute little innocent face. But Sam wasn’t innocent, not anymore. The mechanist took a sip of his dark bier before answered:

“Sammy, you are the most talented boy of this shitty town. The great Lawrence’s lawyer and I have made some research on you, explained Lucifer. It will be Luke for you, Sam.”

Sam had many questions more than before. He supposed that Luke was the real blond name whereas Lucifer was just a nickname. The brown haired one has a side that was afraid of the punk and the other side just wanted to stay and touched him. This feeling gave him shivers down his spine, the danger attracted him. Was he a dealer? A murderer?  He could not leave. Luke hypnotized him too much. This sensation of danger and brave all the laws made him alive like his destiny were to be with Lucifer and not to be a lawyer. The duo liked the presence of the others without talking. Fortuna was lying close to Sam’s foot and starting to doze off.

A few times later, Lucifer went to his van and came back with a black jean in his hands. Sam looked carefully what the blond was doing and didn’t want to miss a thing.  Lucifer took off his old blue jean. He was in boxer in the alley. The Winchester could not handle to not look at the blonde’s butt in this red underwear.

“You like what you see, Sam?”

Sam blushed so hard after this phrase. Luke put on his black jean and moving his hips just for Sam. He put on his rangers and laced it before closed the hood and the doors. In this same moment, Sam’s phone was ringing. The brown haired one took his phone out of his jean pocket and looked who can call him. It was Dean on the phone, no big surprise. “Sam? - What is going on Dean ? The house is on fire? - Very funny, Sam. I was just wondering where you are. You know, it’s late and we always eat together. Unless, you have something to do. - Dean, it’s ok I can go back home. - No, no, I don’t want to interrupt your rendezvous with an awesome chick!  So Blond or Brown? Or Ginger? - Dean, I am with Fortuna’s owner, Lucifer. - Sam,  come back now ! This dude can be dealer or worse ! - Dean, I am going to go back home now. Don’t worry. - Be careful. - Yes, Dean.”

The conversation overs, Sam saw Lucifer put some hair gel in front of his van’s mirror.  The lawyer didn’t know how apologize himself to Lucifer to let him alone. He pet Fortuna one last time and walked toward the punk who was standing in front of him. “ So Sam , ready to drunk all the night ? said Lucifer with excitation - Sorry to say that but I have to go. My brother is waiting me to dine. - Aw, so lovely ! laughed the punk.  Sam, Sam, this pretext doesn’t work with me!” Lucifer walked a step forward and became closer, he was behind him. The Winchester could feel  punk’s breath in his neck and it gave him shivers, a pleasant sensation. The danger and the forbidden were not far. He wanted to touch this danger closer but he also walked away. Samuel felt Lucifer’s presence and he was impressed. He was dominated by Lucifer’s soul and he liked it. “I must go, really, Luke. - Sam, listen we are intending to make some great thing together, I can feel it, I knew it. Don’t abandon me. I will always find you !”

The lawyer didn’t respond and walked away quickly. Ramsey yelped a lot. She didn’t see Sam again before a long time. That Sam didn’t is that Lucifer took advantage of their proximity to put a paper with his number and his address on Sam’s pocket. It won’t be the last they saw each other and Lucifer knew it. There will be many other times, a lot more. No one can resist him.