#its just so fucking obnoxious how dependent so many people are on it already

[boardboxes]

My class had a speaker today on the use of AI and how we can use AI to boost ourselves academically and all it did was piss me off. “Use it to edit your papers!” Or sit down with your friends and peer review… or talk to the professor about the paper. “Use it to find sources” go to the library and if youre lost ask the librarian where to start. “Use it to brainstorm ideas!” challenge yourself intellectually and think of ideas yourself. Or discuss with your peers. Universities are places that are full of some of the smartest people in their fields. You have professors with doctorate degrees, sometimes multiple, and you would rather use an AI bot (thats more wrong than not) instead of going to talk to a professor. Use your libraries and librarians, seek out people in your community to discuss your studies.

[horsetailcurlers2]

YET ANOTHER long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching grey’s anatomy for the first time (season 14 because i’m still hanging on by a thread)

-why did megan hunt have a fresh coat of mascara and some lip gloss on when she got flown in with her gaping abdominal wound LMAO

-teddy!!!!!

-i absolutely think they should tell megan about meredith and riggs and let her make an informed decision on whether she wants meredith to be her surgeon. this is greys anatomy, of course there’s gonna be a conflict of interest. they’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.

-somebody tell me when the show stops being worth watching. so far i’m hanging on bc i’m mildly interested in how jo and alex turn out, i want teddy and amelia to interact, and i’ve warmed up to arizona since she broke up with callie. obvi i love meredith i just don’t know how much more they can do with her before i just want her to take a warm bath and retire to somewhere far far away with her children.

-did amelia relapse offscreen???? wtf is going on???

-okay she has a tumor i guess. sure, okay, whatever. !!!!

-she put a gun in her !!!!!!!!! for a man???

-i don’t love the way they’ve introduced the new intern class. they set it up as if we already know them, whereas i feel like with every other class of interns we’ve gotten eased into it a bit more before we’re just tossed into this unfamiliar dynamic

-okay but wait i do like that in this ep w the roller coaster (and the people who are supposed to be baby cristina, george and izzie) they referenced the old intro. i think the writers knew they needed a little nostalgia to hook people back in at this point. jury is still out whether or not it’s working on me.

-maybe i’m stupid but why in the fuck would they have so many important things dependent on one networked computer system. why on earth would cardiac monitors be hackable?????

-idk about maggie/jackson…. seems too incest adjacent

-the casual gaslighting and manipulation with paul stadler is so well written

-“jackson avery, you are such a disappointment, i thought you were woke!!!”

-genuine question: do they just not do chemistry reads on this show when they cast romantic interests???

-*choked up*”right before she died, she told me i should be more slutty. and i just wish i could call her and tell her how slutty i’m being” i really do love maggie

-maybe i missed it but why does carina have an italian accent but andrew doesn’t?

-i like the development of jo and meredith’s relationship

-i think meredith and this firefighter woman should kiss on the mouth

-i like april better now that she’s kind of a mess

-OOH wait does helm have a little crush on meredith bc i’m kind of obsessed with that

-if there’s one thing greys usually kills it with its casting younger versions of characters for flashbacks

-i miss joe the bartender :(

-oh my god he gives them fake cancer so he can charge them for fake chemo?????? what the fuck

-too much of an emphasis on these lesbian cookies…. suspicious

-okay yeah that makes sense. i love this

-nurse olivia!!

-olivia of course has a right to still be upset but it’s a little weird to assume alex didn’t change at all in the past ten years. not to mention it’s weird to act morally superior about it now when she cheated on george with alex

-“if you wanna rebuild you have to tear it down first” bingo

-did i miss amelia getting her own place or is she taking this girl to meredith’s house??

-okay i guess she’s just moved in with owen again. i need to pay better attention lol but so much keeps happening and it’s a lot of mush to sift through

-“meredith grey is straight” “ever hear her talk about cristina yang?” LMAO

-PREGNANT?

[catchyhuh]

You once told about crying, so let's talk about the happier scenario: LAUGHTER. We were shown them sharing it a lot in canon but maybe you have some additional thoughts? Who would have the most twisted, dark sense of humor? Or maybe the cringiest? Who would laugh his butt off while reading some stupid text on the birthday card on the local shop? Does any of them snort or hiccup while giggling? Are any of them ticklish on some unusual spot? Do they prank each other? And what do they do to actually cheer up the others? Those kind of headcanons!

oh my god. i want to hug you. you’re right we DO need to talk about this!! peace and love and joy on planet earth!!!! all of them laugh when they see a guy walk headfirst into a glass pane and only two of them sort of kind of feel bad about it

lupin:

it takes almost nothing to make lupin laugh. and he’s not even fucking with you either he just sincerely thinks THIS much is funny but he has more of a control over his giggles than people might assume. he CAN stop laughing but he knows its obnoxious to people so he DOESN’T 

he knows how to weaponize levity. like, he really does have more emotional maturity than people give him credit for (not that he’s GREAT about it, just better than people give him credit for!) and it’s been shown multiple times that he tries to use laughter to pull people out of their emotional pits of despair. he exaggerates his gestures, he makes weird faces, and since he’s already such an animated person you wouldn’t even realize it’s an intentional thing unless you really knew him

lupin arguably pulls pranks every day, but not on his gang. at least, not the standard kind. it turns out people with nightmarishly fast reflexes have um. pretty wild kneejerk reactions if you pop out from behind a corner to try to scare them! usually he just replaces unimportant items for the hell of it. sour cream in the yogurt tub. pens replaced with black straws. shit that’s annoying but never WILD. he saves that for the heists 

jigen:

jigen laughing is (like so many things) ENTIRELY dependent on his mood. if he’s grouchy it’s almost impossible to make him laugh, even if it’s something he normally finds hilarious, but if he’s easygoing on this particular day it’s not. i mean its a REASONABLE level. it’s reasonable. honestly a lot of it has to do with the person it’s coming from too so it’s like. there’s factors. there’s factors to what makes him laugh. and oddly enough none of it has to do with his sense of humor. although in THEORY he would be the pickiest. it’s not HIGHBROW good lord not highbrow humor by any means, but he’s like. unimpressed with absurdist meme humor. probably because so much WAY wackier shit happens to them organically every damn day BUT YOU KNOW HOW IT IS

jigen. is a very loud laugher, when he gets to that very sincere point. like if he’s outside checking the mail or whatever and you’re standing in a bedroom upstairs on the opposite side of the house, and he sees a squirrel fall out of a tree flailing wildly before it just lands on its feet, blinking in confusion… you’ll know. you’ll know he saw that. and so will any house that happens to be in a 1 mile radius of the hideout. full lung capacity, clutching his stomach, pointing and everything. 

fujiko:

it is not impossible to get fujiko to laugh. difficult, but not impossible. especially because she’ll just do that laugh that indicates “that was funny/entertaining” but doesn’t actually like. turn into real laughter.  but fujiko sincerely, fully breaking into a laughing fit is like a haley’s comet level rare, beautiful event in nature. i know i said she never CRY cries but her eyes water up almost immediately the minute she starts laughing laughing, and her face gets all red and streaky. it’s exceedingly undignified. it’s so great

fujiko does admittedly find things funny the most in a like. objective sense. she’ll watch a movie and grin and be like “that was funny” and it’s like. ok then why aren’t you laughing? SHE JUST HAS A HIGHER COMEDY TOLERANCE. it’s not even one of those things she’s trained herself on. it’s just. being around these idiots for so long she has come to realize if she actually did start cracking up every time one of them did something stupid, intentional or not, she would have fractured a rib by now, and that’s just not super ideal for anybody really,

tied with jigen for the darkest sense of humor, easily. of course, again, unlike jigen, she won’t immediately start losing it, but her eyes will widen with this like flash of humor and she’ll just kind of smile tightly because she KNOWS she shouldn’t laugh at generic dead baby joke number 482938 but unlike jigen she cares at least a little about not seeming like a total ass. just a lil.

goemon:

less giggly than lupin, more giggly than jigen. goemon’s sense of humor is kind of hard to pinpoint, even for him. it could be something as simple as someone deliberately mispronouncing a word that gets his smile all twisted up, it could be a stupid pun, but he INSISTS he does NOT find others getting hurt funny. he insists. and then when lupin actually trips and eats shit and jigen immediately bursts out laughing goemon turns his head away like No No No it's not funny i will not laugh. i won’t BUT IT’S TOO LATE. WE’VE ALREADY LOST HIM. not above finding others’ misfortune funny in other ways though, he just (says) bodily harm isn’t funny. someone trying to step out of the rain and getting an entire awning’s worth of water dumped on them though, he will admit that shit is funny as hell

when goemon really REALLY starts laughing like, uncontrollably, can’t stop laughing, he just stops making noise. but he hates how stupid he must look with his mouth hanging open and no sound coming out, so he tucks his chin and halfway tries to cover his face, his shoulders just shaking the whole time. of course it takes a lot to get to that point like a LOT lot, so it’s amazing he’s as concerned about it as he is

zenigata:

zenigata WANTS to be like jigen in the “this is serious i'm mad at you. stop giggling” sense but he’s. not as sturdy in that department. he like draws his mouth super tight to stop from smiling and he’s like “this is not funny. stop. stop it. ITS NOT F--” and then he puts his head in his hands to try to stop laughing but it’s too late the dam has already broken

like with crying, he doesn’t ever really feel the need to stop himself from laughing outside of I’M SERIOUS CUT IT OUT type situations. like he gets giggly just when he’s in a good mood and nothing funny has even happened yet. and like with literally everything with him he’s loud. very loud. almost anything can get him to laugh, nothing is too stupid or juvenile despite what he insists. also sometimes laughs when he’s nervous, and it’s like, the only time he’s at a semi-average volume doing it. because he’s fearing for his life. it happens.

[ink-on-the-brink]

Out of all the mercs, which do you think would be the easiest to befriend and gain all their trust and which one would be the hardest??? And also, I really love your writing :D keep it up and have a nice day/night!!! ^^

Happy to know you enjoy my work! It's good to know I'm doing something right!

This one's going to be super quick since I've been a bit busy recently, but it should be fun. It will go in order from easiest to hardest to befriend. (Also there won't be any editing so excuse my spelling mistakes)

Pyro

You so much as smile at them and they are your best friend. Not kidding. They can and will make you a best friend after only the first time meeting you.

All you have to do to gain their trust is be kind. They won't notice if it's fake or not so even a sarcastic or strained tone won't matter as long as you're smiling and saying nice things.

Pyro is super bubbily and energetic and if you meet that energy you two are going to get along tremendously well.

You may not understand them, but they are telling you their deepest secrets all the time. Their trust in you is very noticable even after only a week of meeting them.

They are a bit- well more like extremely childish. So being their friend automatically makes you more of the adult no matter how immature you might be.

Overall they just want to be friends with any and every person they meet and you are going to be their bestest friend no matter if you want to be or not.

Scout

This man is a pretty easy friend to make. You make even a half attempt and he's your best friend on day one.

Trust is earned when you play fair. He doesn't really like cheaters, so if he challenges you and you make it a point to be as fair as possible he already believes you're a good person.

I hope you like some friendly competition because that's basically your guys' friendship is based on.

Now while you two might become great friends quickly, that doesn't necessarily mean you're going to know his deepest insecurities. That will problably take about a half a year and a loy of awkward conversations to get to.

He can be a very annoying person so being his friend takes a considerable amount of patience.

Overall he just likes having friends, even if he tries to stay macho about it.

Demo

Being his friend is pretty easy as well. He always likes to have a few drinking buddys on hand and he won't hesitate to invite along people he might not know very well

He'll gain immideate trust for you if you help him while he's drunk. Most people will leave him in a corner to wake up in so he'll take your act of kindness as a reason to keep you around.

Most of your friendship is based on achohal. Drinking together, gifting booze, encouraging others to join, you two will most likely not even remember most of your more trusting moments with eachother.

As bombastic and outgoing as he is, he's rather private about certain topics. That is unless he's black out drunk. If he's not as drunk as he usually is he won't answer questions about family or anything about the future until he feels he knows you well enough.

Demo is a bit of a handfull most days. He never turns down a dare and bar fights are common. You'll likely have to pull him off the floor a lot and he is notorious for invading personal space. So as long as your up for the challenge, he's up for being your friend.

Overall he's a drunk idiot, but he's your drunk idiot. He will be sure to make each day a little interesting

Medic

Becoming Medics friend can be...an interesting expirence. It's going to involve blood, guts and conscious surgeries and he's not going to care for those who are faint of heart.

You want to gain his trust? Well here's the thing, there is no surefire way to do that. Help him out one day and he'll appreciate it, another and he might become suspicious. The best way is probably to find some interest in his expirements. He prefurs to surround himself with like-minded people.

The biggest part of your friendship is most likely a shared interest in crimes against humanity. Two mad scientists testing on the bodies of dead 'patients'. What could go wrong?

Medic tries to hold a professional tone most of the time but will drop all of that when in battle or when expirementing. It can be hard to keep up with how quickly he switches from one to the other so try to stay aware of what's happening.

Medic doesn't have secrets. He has no shame and will tell you the most horrifying things in an upbeat tone. That, however, doesn't mean he fully trusts you. It will likely take a while before he trusts you enough to leave you alone with any of his expirements or projects. It's his life's work after all, he's not going to allow just anyone to mess with it.

Overall he doesn't mind having friends, but he isn't very open to close friends. It'll take a bit of time and prying to get him to fully trust you.

Soldier

This dude is extreamly parinoid. He's consistently second guessing his friendships and looking for double agents. So becoming his friend isn't exactly easy. You are going to have to seriously impress him for him to even think of you as anything more than a possibly traitor.

Gaining his trust can vary on many factors. Military backround? You're already up a few hundred points. Love for america? He's open to listening to you. Care for raccons? Okay maybe he isn't as hard to befriend as he tries to be.

Violence. So. Much. Violence. If he thinks you might be a good friend he's going to put you to the test. Rigorous training, sparing, tests on your patriotism, anything that he deems as important will be something he tests you on. All of them will most likely involve some sort of physical endurance. Even after you two are friend these will still be a constant in your life.

He's not good with secrets but there are a few things he keeps silent about and getting him to talk about it will likely end with you on the floor. As stated before he's a rather parinoid person and if it's something he's not willing to say out loud, it's something that you're going to have to spend years gaining enough trust for him to open up about it.

Soldier is extreamly loyal. If you're his friend he'd happily bleed to keep you safe. He'd never believe a single negative thing said about you and will side with you one everything, no matter how wrong you are. If you remain just as loyal he will become your right hand man in an instant.

Sniper

Overall Soldier's a loud, obnoxious, patriotic and still somehow very lovable person. When he cares about someone he tends to be extremely kind, be it in a more abrasive way then others. So as long as you can see past his militaristic exterior he's one hell of a friend to have.

You wanna be friends with Sniper? Yeah, good luck with that. Not only is the dude a loner, but he has hella trust issues and he sure as hell isn't here to make friends. Becoming his friend is going to take time. A lot of time. And maybe some coffee.

There isn't a singular act you could do to gain his trust. You can defend him all you want, side with him on every issue, pull him out of a near death expirence, its not going to change how little he trusts you. It's going to take all of those and a few long coversations (good luck getting him in a conversation in the first place) before he even attempts to trust you.

Your friendship relies heavily on practically. He's only going to think of trusting you if he feels you give some advantage. It will take a few heart to hearts for him to look past seeing you as someone who can help him and instead as someone he cares about.

Sniper has a lot of dark parts to him and it is only once he fully trusts you that you'll get to know that side of him exists. Secretly he really just wants to spill about his insecurities and problems but he doesn't trust that people won't use it against him. Once he does trust you his cold exterior will fade away and you'll get to know a lot about the demons he fights with.

He pulls off the calculated killer rather well. Most people believe he knows of nothing else. To anyone who's close to him however, he's quite honestly a mess. He needs someone that grounds him and if you can provide that type of friendship then he will appreciate it more that any type of heroic act you could preform.

Overall he's guarded and quiet but desperately wants someone to relate to. It will take a persistent attempt to earn his trust and even if he's your friend he still tends to keep to himself.

Heavy

Ah yes, the silent behemoth. Befriending him is going to take more than just patience. It's going to take a certain amount of willpower as well. He doesn't trust easily and you'll have to work hard to prove yourself to him, most likely on the battle field.

His trust is gained a few ways, none of which are easier than the last. First you must have some care for family. That doesn't necisarry mean that you have a family, but one of the first things he looks for in a possible friend is whether they have any strong familial values. Next you will have to prove to be strong enough to fend for yourself. He might be a human meat sheild but that doesn't mean he likes being one. He appreicates someone who can help rather than hinder him. There are many more steps afterward and you will have to pass with flying colors for him to consider it.

Your friendship will rely entirely on having eachothers back. He needs to know you are willing to stick with him no matter how dire the circumstances. You fuck up or betray him once and he will most likely never trust you again.

Heavy doesn't talk much. Whether that is because of his lack of english knowledge or simply choosing to keep his mouth shut really depends.

He doesn't hold many secrets but he does hold many dark memeories. He usually would only trust his family enough to talk to them about it but once your close enough to be considered family he will open up to you, if only a little bit.

Heavy keeps to himself most of the time and doesn't prefur to say much, if anything at all so getting to know his isn't easy and gaining his trust is even harder. He's got a family to take care of and he's not going to risk their safety by trusting someone he shouldn't have.

Spy

Ah yes, the backstabber himself. Guarded, mysterious and an annoying bastard. The path to his friendship is fog covered and honestly it can be hard to tell whether he cares for you or not. He will never announce his care or show it in any way, so good luck finding out if you're on his good side.

You want his trust? You'll have to prove you're worth trusting. Getting him out of a tough spot or siding with him is likely to earn his respect at the very least. It won't get you all the way there though. He doesn't associate with anyone that doesn't hold his type of class. You'll have to be rather poised and polished when around him.

His friendships usually end up in a love/hate dynamic. He might enjoy your company, and in doing so open a weak point for others to exploit. That's where the hate comes in. He doesn't like having people close, it makes his job harder, so no matter how much he cares he sure as hell isn't going to let it show.

Spy will never, ever, trust anyone with the knowledge of his past. He'd sooner die then let someone know anything that happened before he met them. No matter how much he trusts you, no matter how close you get, you will never have enough trust for him to tell you that.

Spy his one hell of a prick. It might all be in good fun, but he can be a little too good at getting on your nerves sometimes. It's best if you keep him in check by returning his remarks with equally devistating comebacks. He might even respect you more if you're able to match his level of prickery.

Overall he's going to remain mysterious no matter how much he may trust you. He will try to not befriend anyone, so you making an attempt to do so will likely be met with less than favorable reactions at first. Give it time and he might just consider you not as annoying as everyone else.

Engie

You thought he was a trusting guy didn't you? Well that's just what he wants you to think. Becoming his friend is a complicated process that you most likely wont even be aware of. You'll think he's your friend when really he's the farthest thing from it.

Gaining his true trust is near impossible. He has nearly everyone convinced of his friendly exterior so he almost can't afford to trust anyone to know the truth. In every case that it is possible it's entirely on accident. Maybe you seem to genuinely care for him and the guilt leaves him a bit more open to caring about you. Or the opposite can happen. You see right through his act and in a bid to keep you silent about it he becomes honest with you. Either way it's not going to be on purpose.

Engie grew up in a life where you weren't supposed to trust everyone but you damn well make sure everyone trusts you. This can make it hard for him to be an actual friend, considering he's always kept people at a distance. He will often fall into habits of keeping his friendly exterior instead of being more genuine with you.

Engie has a lot of secrets. A lot. Most he will take to his grave. If you do, however, manage to earn his trust and especially if you earn his care, he'll share a few. There are very few circumstances that he will and most time while doing so he can be very visibly uncomfortable. You don't get raised in a mercinary family without a few demons following you.

He's only cared for very few people in his life and he's trusted even less. So there are times when he either seem distant and uncaring or caring to the point you feel patronized. It will take him a while to find out if he should trust you and the moment he does it can seem almost like you have become the most important person on his life. His once empty gestures are now entirely genuine and he feels safe with his back toward you. This is by no means an easy point to reach and will most defiantly have taken literal years to get to.

Overall he's used to not genuinely connecting with people and is extremely hesitant when doing so. You may not even notice this conflict, but it's most certainly a large part of his life.

[mercurytrinemoon]

Me debunking astrology generalizations and misconceptions or smth idk...

Squares and oppositions aren't pure evil. 

I can't believe I have to say this because I thought ya'll have learnt the characteristics of every aspect but here we are. Nothing in astrology is black and white. And I saw some ridiculous statements (not necessary here on tumblr) that said things like "if your Venus squares someone's ascendant then you don't find that person attractive AT ALL". Or "Mars square Mercury people can't speak politely and have an annoying voice". Like????? First of all, that's ridiculous. Second of all, square in not "everything bad" just like trine is not "everything amazing". Squares bring tension, which leads to motivation, they’re stimulating; sometimes excitement or charisma; sometimes they can make you overdo things. I'm not saying they're oh-so-marvelous because the challenges are still there, but they're not as bad as people paint them to be. Squares happen between two signs that are in the same modality so they have a bunch of things in common. Besides, some of them (Sagi-Pisces and Gemini-Virgo) are ruled by the same planet so there's a special type of chemistry between those (especially when applied to synastry). Oppositions work in two ways, planets either meet in the middle - opposite signs usually complete each other and fuel each other up. And worse case scenario? Natally this means being pulled in two different directions; synastry-wise, you can completely miss each other like two passing cars - so there may be some misunderstandings but I don't think that's the end of the world... And, as per usual, may be mitigated by other positive aspects.

This is me debunking other people's attempts at debunking Sun sign compatibility. 

Sun IS very important but when people ask about compatibility and go with Suns... and then someone tries to be a smartass and debunk the "compatible-incompatible" and does the same thing without even realizing it. Like, "oh I actually see a lot of Aries and Pisces having amazing relationships because *insert someting that is a total stretch and refers to their Sun sign traits*"... But you seem to forget that they're neighbouring signs... which means they probably have personal planets in those neighbouring signs... which means they're compatible not because of some made-up stuff that you're trying to come up with but because their other planets are compatible with each other. But you're still feeding into the Sun sign compatibility talk. (So like, what I'm trying to also say, yes, the entire synastry chart comes into play; Also, side note, everyone can get along on some level if they’re mature enough).

Planet in a sign is NOT the same as planet in the house. 

There may be some overlaps in some of the sign-houses associations (like in the overall energy; like for example, it sort of makes sense that 3rd, 7th and 11th are referred to as “air houses” because they’re the most social) but in NO WAY there are similarities between planet house position and the "ruling" sign. That association started a few decades ago and some would say that NOT linking houses with signs is a purely traditional approach. But there’s plenty of professional modern astrologers with 20/30/40-year experience who still differentiate between sign/house position... because they know (and have learnt along the way) that there’s a huge difference.

I'll give you 3 quick examples: Gemini planets and 3rd house planets both may put emphasis on communication, mental stimulation and gathering data. But Geminis are often scattered in their approach, they may be easily distracted, may be indecisive, may be jack of all trades and talkative jokesters. They actually hate routines and dullness. "Spice it up" is probably a Gemini's philosophy. Now 3rd house planets may indicate you actually LIKE doing things on the regular - like running errands every other day in the mornings or going to that one specific coffee shop to pick up a snack. You may actually work in logistics or as a postman (especially if your chart ruler or MC ruler is in the 3rd). Planets in the 3rd talk about your siblings, neighbours or school experiences - like having Venus in the 3rd may point to positive experiences within those areas - something Gemini Venus has nothing in common.

Venus in the 9th can study at an art/beauty or fashion school (or even teach there if the MC is involved); can be very attached to spiritual and religious matters; can also find love in a foreign land. But imagine it being in Taurus - rather shy, needing those stable values to feel secure, being an exceptionally great student at that art school thanks to its domicile. Venus in Sagittarius on the other hand, likes adventure, things being shaken up from time to time, lightheartedness and exploration. But what if we flip the scenario and that Sag Venus is in the 2nd house. This can denote earing money through travelling and looking for ways to expand but in a financial matters.

Continuing with the Venus examples, having Venus in Aries is completely different than Venus in the 1st. What do people usually say about Venus in the 1st? That it makes the native charming, lovely, well-put together, with great manners, maybe beautiful, graceful, maybe a bit shallow. When in Aries? None of these characteristics fit, on top of that, it's in its detriment. Our poor gal Venus is uncomfortable and confused in Aries. She's like, "conquer? Swords? Selfishness? Obnoxiousness? Sparring? You're telling me to fight people? What am I doing here???" 

And I'll leave you here with that cause those examples weren’t that quick lol and in fact, I could give you a 100 of those. Besides, this actually inspired a 3-page rant that I've already posted not so long ago that you can read HERE.

There's no such thing as "more accurate" astrology. 

Both western and vedic are valid. Both can show you the same things. JUST KEEP THEM SEPARATE AND DON'T MIX THEM WITH EACH OTHER. And don't say things like "sidereal shows your soul" - omg I saw this statement soooo many times, who the hell even came up with this?! Actually, if anything, it's the modern western approach that "psychologized" (yea I just made up a word, you mad?) astrology while Jyotish still sticks to the very real "here and now", sometimes fatalistic predictions of how exactly your life is going to roll out... But hey, reach for hellenistic methods and they can tell you the same things, just with different tools. So no, they do not show different things, it's just their language is different.

If you say you don't identify with your chart then you're just reading it wrong.

This partially connects to the last one in some ways... Switching to a different astrology or different charts is not a solution. Learn how to read your natal. If you say it doesn’t describe you, I can guarantee you that you haven’t studied it properly. (Now this hasn't turned into a rant yet but I may actually do a whole-ass post on this because if I start elaborating on it now I'll end up with another 3-page essay).

Learn how and when to generalize. Also learn how to take generalizations. 

I understand that you have to pick up on every single thing separately in order to put everything together. It's like learning a new language: first you need to learn individual words and then you need to know the proper grammar to create a full sentence. This is 100% understandable and necessary, but it's important to take the entire thing into consideration. And this goes for all branches of astrology, but I guess it's especially annoying with synastry. This, again, comes down to the very black and white approach. You know, like when you see those long paragraphs where people elaborate on all the intricacies of Venus-Pluto aspects or whatever as if that one thing was determining the entire relationship between two people. (Side note, no shade but some of ya'll should start writing fiction or poetry cause the amount of fluffy speech and waffle that I see floating around here on tumblr is insane sometimes). Why are you wording everything as a make it or break it type of situation? And on the receiving end - learn how to take *properly phrased* generalizations constructively. Example: it IS a rule that Aries is a competitive one, maybe you're not one of them (for many reasons) but don't make a fuss about someone saying this. It IS a basic rule that energies of the same sign in two people are going to get along (well that depends on the planets involved but I digress), if that, for some other reasons, doesn't apply to you, don't go yelling that it's bullcrap because you hate people of the same sign. You know? Like, learn the difference.

DON'T SCARE PEOPLE WITH ASTROLOGY.

I had a mini-rant on this one a while ago, but I think this deserves a constant reminder (and refers to the last point), I don't want to see any more posts that would say things like "xxx house placements will bring you suffering" or "stay away from people with planets in your xxx house" or, even worse, making a (completely untrue btw) prediction based on one single thing like "someone with so-and-so aspect is going to harm you". And you're so casual about it??? You know there are sensitive people in the world. Learn some ethics. Learn some counseling skills. Don't be ignorant. Don't throw these random stuff at people just like that. And learn some actual astrology cause most of these aren't even closely describing that particual aspect. LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Ok now I'm pissed again.

Studying astrology and believing in free will doesn’t go well together.

It's not just psychological and spiritual. It's useful to know that western astrology made it like that because there were still people threatening astrologers for using it as a divination tool. So they moved away from the predictive/deterministic aspect of it. Now, I'm not here to change anyone's beliefs cause that's a very personal thing that everyone should develop on their own. But once you start diving deeper into astrology you'd notice that there's a heavy emphasis on fatedness and things being predetermined. That includes both the good and the bad stuff and you should learn to accept that. And with the bad things specifically, let's not excuse it with some "oh that was an opportunity for growth". Like yea, maybe, occasionally??? But just acknowledge that sometimes things happen not because there was a deeper meaning in them... but because you have a Pluto-Mars conjunction in the 6th that makes an applying square to your chart ruler and you were going through a profection year where Mars was your time lord and it transited that chart ruler while making a conjunction with Neptune so you were attacked by a baby crocodile while swimming and it bit off your toe and you got a nasty infection and that’s it (I just made that up btw, I don't actually know anyone who was attacted by a crocodile). So like, sometimes shit just happens and there's nothing psychological about it. Also, I bet your free will didn't want to be attacked by that croc.

[k3rm1e]

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

sickly

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

:^) anon my beloved;;;;; i love your brain. this could go two ways depending on whether you’re staying with phil or if you guys are online so i went with your staying with him. i also did a one shot but if you want hcs i hv no problem writing some :) i hope this is good!

cw: cursing

mumza and dadza take care of you:

  it had finally happened. while covid wasn't fully over just yet, many had gotten the vaccine and conventions were opening up again. which meant two things: meetups and twitchcon. finally, you could meet some of your supporters and see your friends.

  “mom, are we almost there?” your mom was driving you to the airbnb you’d be staying at with a few of the other dream smp members. at first, you assumed you’d all be staying in separate hotel rooms. but, this way, you could spend more time with friends, save money, and your mom wouldn’t have to be with you the whole time. there had already been many long conversations between philza and your mom to make sure you’d be safe staying with everyone.

  “yes, sweetie. almost there. we’re just two minutes closter than when you asked earlier.” ok, sue you, maybe you were a bit excited. but really, who could blame you? making in person friends had never been easiest, so the majority of your friendship were with people online. not being able to see or meet anyone for so long had been excruciatingly painful. 

  within ten minutes, you had finally arrived at the airbnb. quickly jumping out you ran to the door, obnoxiously ringing the doorbell. through the door, you heard an accented voice yell out, “i’m coming, i’m coming!”. at this point you were springing up and down on your tippy-toes, ready to spring out of your skin.

  the door opened and you were greeted by a very tired and annoyed looking wilbur, “hello?”.

`   “WILBURRRR!!!” you were screaming in his face (unintentionally), waking him up from his drowsiness. you launched yourself in his arms, not paying attention to your mother’s bewildered expression. you quickly let go of him and shoved past him, “i’m gonna go say hi to everyone!” distantly you heard wilbur begin to talk to your mother, explaining what you guys were doing.

  while running around you said hi to tommy, tubbo, ranboo, eret, fundy, niki, techno, phil and kristin. the others were either staying in another airbnb or in their own hotel rooms. after about thirty minutes, wilbur had finally stopped talking to your mom.

  “yes, ma’am. i can promise you they’ll be completely safe. you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” wilbur was calmly talking with your mother, looking more and more tired by the minute.

  “alright. thank you.” your mother called you over. “come give me a hug and say bye!” slowly dragging your limbs over, you let her hug you. behind you you could hear wilbur and phil laughing at you.

  “bye mom…” she was holding onto you tightly, petting down your hair.

  “oh, sweetie, i love you so much. i’m so happy you found something you're passionate about and made so many lovely friends while doing so.” as much as you loved your mom, the small snickers behind you were getting quite embarrassing. you could hear that tommy had joined in on the laughing. 

  “... i love you too, mom. can you let go now?” you tried pulling back, but all she did was pull you closer.

  “oh, but i just don’t wanna let you go. i love you so much, you know that right?”

  “i know, mom. i love you too. but you’ve gotta get home and i have to unpack and get ready for meeting with fans tomorrow.” you finally got her to pull away, “i love you mom, okay? thank you for letting me do this.”

  “oh, i love you too, sweetie.” and with that, your mom left. after watching her pull out of the driveway and down the street, you whipped around.

  “not. a. single. word.” you stared dead in the boy’s eyes, seeing just how much wilbur was about to burst out laughing.

  “what? personally, i think it’s very sweet.” tommy was smiling, purposely pissing you off. “so sweet, how much your mom loves you.”

  “shut your fucking mouth, tommy.” you stared deadpan at him and began walking inside and over to the kitchen.

  “what? i didn’t say anything wrong! i was just simply commenting on your very, very sweet relationship with your mother.”

  kristin moved forward to talk to you, “for what it’s worth, i do thing you hae a very sweet relationship with your mom.”

  “thank you. you’re the only good one in this house, kristin minecraft.” with that she laughed, and you all continued on with your evening. after staying up late watching old youtube videos, you all went to bed. in the morning you would have your first day of three at twitchcon, meeting fans and other creators alike. 

  for around 10 hours, you stood in booths signing fanart, prints, notebooks, and the like. meeting so many different people was eye opening, just learning who supported you. at the end of the day everyone went to a restaurant to eat dinner after so long.

  “this food… is so… fucking good.”

  “agreed.” you and the rest of the so-called ‘bench trio’ were eating at what wilbur had deemed the ‘kiddy table’. after eating so much food you were all tired. the rest of your friends had already left, walking back to the airbnb. when it was finally time to leave the restaurant, it was pouring rain.

  “WHY IS THE RAIN SO COLD IT’S LITERALLY SUMMER”

  after running home you had gone to sleep while the others had changed and taken showers. after sleeping for around ten hours, you had finally woken up. frankly, you felt like dogshit. you could barely breathe out of your stuffy nose and your head felt like it had been shoved full of wet cotton balls.

  instead of staying in bed, you got up and tried to get ready. on the way downstairs to get food and see who was making so much noise, you fell face first down the stairs. “owwwww…”

  hearing a ruckus, phil and kristin left the kitchen, where they were making pancakes. “holy shit! are you alright, mate?”

  pushing phil over, kristin walked over to you, “obviously they’re not okay phil! the poor kid is lying on the floor.”

  slowly getting up, you try to reassure both of them that you’re okay. “no, no, no, don’t worry. i am perfectly okay.” while you don’t know exactly how you sound, based on the expression on phil’s face, you don't think you sound very good.

  “uh, yeah, how about no. you sound like you’ve draken a whale bottle of vodka.” phil walked over to you and grabbed you by the arm, trying to hold you up.

  “i’m fineeee”

  “no, your fucking not. you’re burning up.” phil looked at you, angrily. “you need to go to bed.”

  “but i don’t wannaaaaa. i feel fineeee.” you felt like crying, for absolutely no reason. with that, you passed out on the floor.

  phil and kristin somehow managed to get you back up the stairs and into bed. once you were safely in your room, with no risk of cracking your skull open, phil took your temperature. “mate, your temperature is at nearly 102°. you’re lucky i don’t take you to a hospital.” he started at you, disapprovingly.

  “i’m sorryyyyy dadza. are you mad at me?” in your deluded state you pouted at him, like a child.

  “no, i’m not mad at you. just disappointed. you should’ve known not to do that. you’re old enough to know when you’re sick.” he stared at you with a disapproving look.

  “but that’s even worseeeeee” you felt like balling your eyes out. out of embarrassment, you tried to hide under your blanket. “can you tell mumza i’m sorry for worrying her?”

  above you, you heard phil laugh. “it’s not that big a deal, kid. i’m just upset. you could’ve seriously hurt yourself. i was worried.”

  “you were worried about me? awwwww, i love you too dadza.” you moved your head out of the blankets, smiling at him with dried tears and sweat on your face.

  “yeah, yeah. now shut up and go to bed.”

  kristin walked in, hearing what he said. “phil, don’t bully the kid. they already feel like shit.” out of the corner of your eye, you saw her look over to phil and smile at him.

  “i’m not doing anything, swear on my life!” he put his hands up in defense of himself, making you laugh.

  turning away from him, she directed her next question towards you. “how you feeling, kid? took quite a tumble there.” she smiled at you and ushed your hair out of your face.

  “i’m sorry for worrying youuuuuu. i love you, mumza. promise.”

  laughing, she leaned down to kiss you on the head. “love you too, kid. now, want me to sit with you and we can all watch some netflix or something?”

  you silently nodded and the two of them joined you on the bed, not caring very much if they got sick. after not even an hour, you all passed out.

  a few hours later, everyone returned back from the convention. let’s just say wilbur now had some very valuable blackmail.

hope you like it! this was so wholesome i- wfowcsjvri

i want parents like dadza and mumza now

[stickynotesandstress]

Red Flags in Class Syllabi

Hello, here I am with another post full of advice for university and like most of my posts, it comes from personal experience. A little backstory on this: my first year of university, there was this theatre class I was in where everyone had already become friends or knew each other from high school drama festivals. We always had to do group work where we chose our own groups and I was always alone and did everything in my power to pretend like I wasn’t without the prof noticing. I was miserable and had had multiple panic attacks during or because of that class. However, I was a first year former gifted student who didn’t want to switch classes. I hit a breaking point one night when I was sobbing on the phone to my mom and she made me get up and drop the class. At that point, it was too late to register for one in its place and I am in my third year now, taking 6 courses online during a global pandemic to make up the credits so I can graduate on time. Ever since that experience, if I’ve had any major doubts about a class, I drop it without hesitation as soon as possible so I still have time to register for a new class. In fact, this semester alone, I dropped three classes and switched to new ones. Here are some red flags in course syllabi/things profs say during the first class

1. Group projects. We are in university, everyone, we are paying thousands of dollars for this and we should not be paying that much money for our grades to depend on others. Of course, and this applies to all of the red flags on the list, if the class in necessary for your degree (has happened to me a few times) sometimes you have to suck it up. Still, if you can drop the class without it messing up your degree, I would recommend it, especially right now when most people are fully online because group projects based completely online are even more hellish.

2. If a professor makes a point about how they don’t or hardly ever give As. This one is obvious. These profs like to make shit difficult for no reason and think they’re waaay more important than they really are. Most “I don’t give As” profs that I’ve had have been pretentious assholes.

3. Similarly, if a professor is bragging about how hard their class is/saying that you will likely fail. They are bragging about how bad they are at their job. They are there to teach you and if they advertise that all these people have failed their class, they aren’t trying hard enough. Also usually pretentious as fuck too.

4. If you miss more than two classes, you will fail the class. I’m not talking about profs having attendance policies, that is fine. What I’m referring to is the ones who take it to the extreme. I’ve seen syllabi where profs will fail you, despite all your other hard work, if you miss more than two classes. Like, it’s an automatic fail. It’s not worth the stress.

5. Any class where participation is worth more than 20% (and that’s pushing it). That shit is not fair to the shy students, students with social anxiety, and students who don’t like public speaking. Your work should be the basis for most of your grade, not whatever bullshit answer to class questions you come up with. I’m not a big fan of participation grades in general but to make them worth that much is not ideal (unless you’re not shy and extroverted and don’t have social anxiety, if so, I’m definitely jealous).

6. Workload. I’m not talking about amount of assignments (though if there are a whole lot, you might want to switch, you know what you can handle), I’m talking about readings every week. I dropped a class this semester because the prof said that every week we would have 60+ pages of readings a week which, according to him, wasn’t a lot. These readings for for a polisci class so it was all dense academic articles and government documents (snore) and I didn’t need the class for my degree. When you have a full class load with readings and actual assignments for all of those classes, a class assigning that many pages a week is a red flag especially when the prof doesn’t think it’s a lot. They will pile on the work.

7. Not listing all assignments in the syllabus. This is my pet peeve and I’m in two classes where we don’t know when assignments are due or what they are. This is a red flag as you need to be able to plan assignments and write dates down, especially in university. Surprise assignments and tests are the worst and set students up to fail.

8. Any time a prof/syllabus says “this class will change your life” or some variation of that. These professors are the most obnoxious people and none of the classes I’ve taken that did change my life ever told me so over and over again. 

9. Any class with busywork as homework. By busywork, I mean homework on the online part of the textbook, exercises from the textbook, stuff like that. This is high school level stuff and you don’t learn anything from it. Also because they use the online quizzes that come with the textbook, that means you have to buy a brand new textbook to get that code so there will be no money saving here. I once had to spend $200 on a LOOSE LEAF textbook (they only offered it in that format) just to use the online quizzes. The whole class was like getting in a time machine and going back to high school.

10. If your first class is full of students and your second class has significantly less, that is a warning sign that they might have picked up on something you didn’t. Take another look at that syllabus and pay close attention to the prof that class and make your decision after that. 

11. Check Rate My Professor!!! I cannot stress this enough. Some of the negative reviews are obviously people just mad they got a bad grade, but when students who got high marks are complaining, there is a problem. Take them with a grain of salt until you actually go to the first class, but make sure to read them before class so you know what to look out for. Also, in general, make sure to add your own ratings for profs while you’re there, both positive and negative because it really helps. I go to a really small school so our RMP reviews are limited so I do my best to post about each of my professors to add more. 

12. Know yourself. If you’re first year, this might be more challenging, but you know how you learn best. If all of the assessment methods in a class are things you know you struggle with (multiple choice tests, short answer tests, exams worth 60% of your grade, long papers, research papers, etc.), use your head and make the right decision for you. If you suck at multiple choice tests and force yourself to take a class where that is all you do, it will be hell. If you choose classes based on assessment method, it will help your GPA, I promise you. I get better at selecting courses every year because I learn myself and what I’m best at and I have raised my GPA (not a whole lot, but usually by a decimal point) every semester because I am constantly learning what is best for me. 

[frankiefellinlove]

THE STEVIE FILES PROUDLY PRESENTS - THE AMAZING ROCK & ROLL ODYSSEY OF STEVEN VAN ZANDT

From The Source to Soulfire via Springsteen and Sam & Dave

Recorded, transcribed, edited, written, produced, mixed and mastered by MIKE SAUNDERS

SIDE TWO (1975-1983)

Track 6: Miami Steve, The Asbury Jukes, Tenth Avenue and Hammersmith

In early 1975, Steven returned to New Jersey from Florida, inappropriately dressed for the winter weather. “I came back with the flowered shirts and the Sam Snead hat and continued wearing them in the snow.” For the next seven years, he was known as Miami Steve. He joined Southside in the Blackberry Booze Band and within weeks they’d altered and expanded its line-up (adding keyboard player Kevin Kavanaugh from Middletown and bass player Alan Berger from The Dovells’ backing band), transformed its musical direction, changed its name to Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes (referencing their mutual hero Little Walter’s band and first single release) and established a successful three-nights-a-week, five-sets-a-night residency at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park.

“Just before that, me, Southside, Bruce and Garry went to see Sam & Dave. A life-changing moment. So me and Southside basically decided we were gonna be the white Sam & Dave, with rock guitar. So the horns came in and although we didn’t know it, we would change the entire concept of what a bar band sounded like and the respect a bar band would get by making it creative, soul meets rock. ‘Bar band’ was an insult. ‘You’re a bar band,’ which means you can’t make it in the real music world. After the Jukes, they started using ‘bar band’ in reviews and they meant it as a compliment, with Graham Parker and Elvis Costello and Mink DeVille. We changed the way people thought about these things.”

The Miami Horns were a vital component of the new band. Steven composed the horn arrangements, but although he’s always possessed a natural ability to imagine horn parts, he doesn’t read or write music (“never have”) and has always required a little help from his friends to transcribe them. “I have people write ‘em down, to this day. I like that actually. You have to do a lotta things yourself so any excuse I find to collaborate I do it. I find other people will bring something to the party usually. That’s why [I’ve] used Eddie Manion for I don’t know how many years. He knows how I like to voice things. Once I think of something and create the parts, I get bored if I have to voice every part, exactly right. If I hear a voicing I don’t like, I will change it, but I get bored by the mechanics of everything.”

While the Jukes were building their reputation and growing their audience, Bruce invited Steven to hang out at the Born To Run sessions in New York, where he was working on “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out.” David Sanborn and The Brecker Brothers had been hired to play the horn parts, but Steven created a spontaneous new arrangement. He’s told this anecdote countless times, but I ask him to repeat it because it provides perfect examples of his innate musical talents in action (“I can hear the parts, who knows why?”), the nature of his friendship with Bruce (“I still am the only human being not afraid of him”), and his no-bullshit attitude (“I didn’t know anything about diplomacy”).

“So he says, ‘Whaddya think?’ I said, ‘It sucks, that’s what I think!’ I didn’t know how uptight everybody was. I didn’t give a fuck either. The managers and producers were all afraid of him already. He asked me a question, I’m gonna be honest. I’m trying to help my friend here, not make points with some fucking record company guy. Moment of silence. ‘He just said it sucks, which means we all suck.’ Bruce [says] ‘Alright then, go in and fucking fix it.’ So I did. I went in and sang the [new] parts. I didn’t know they were the most famous [session] guys in New York. It wasn’t insulting them, the chart was ridiculous. That was my thing, just from the Jukes being around maybe six months.”

“I wasn’t really feeling the pressure that Bruce was at the time. I didn’t realise his life depended on this album. His first two records hadn’t done very well. They wanted to drop him. I don’t know how aware I was of any of that. He invited me into the session and I’m laying on the floor. All I can think is, we’ve been hoping to get into recording our whole lives, I’m listening to this and it sounds fucking terrible. Not just the horn charts, everything. It was the worst period of recording in history. Virtually every record from the 50s and 60s sounded great, virtually every record from the early 70s sounded terrible. Because engineers took over, started close miking, padding the walls. Separation, separation, separation, all the things that make rock ‘n’ roll suck. The idea was, you isolate everything and make it sound exciting in the mix. Which they managed to do, miraculously, with the Born To Run album. Because it was pieced together in a bizarre way. Bruce made that record 100% out of willpower, he willed that into existence!”

Soon after making his instinctive artistic contribution (and singing backing vocals on “Thunder Road”), Steven was invited to join the E Street Band. It was a chance to complete the circle, play with his old friend again and settle any unfinished business from three summers earlier, when he’d been sent packing at the Greetings sessions. He made his live debut on the opening night of the Born To Run tour, which ran until New Year’s Eve. His input and influence over the next decade, onstage and off, would prove invaluable. (Bruce even began playing The Dovells’ “You Can’t Sit Down” as an occasional encore). In the fall, the tour took everyone to Europe for the first time, where the culture shock was off the charts. “There was no hamburgers, no peanut butter. The only place you could get a hamburger in the whole of Europe was the newly-opened first Hard Rock Café. There was a line around the block even then.”

Culinary deficiencies aside, Bruce also had to endure the overblown hype surrounding his first UK gigs at London’s Hammersmith Odeon, where Columbia had displayed the legend “Finally London Is Ready For Bruce Springsteen” on every available surface prior to his arrival. “[It was] completely obnoxious,” says Steven. “[Bruce] spent half the time ripping down posters. It was an embarrassing time for him, between that and Time and Newsweek. He didn’t like that stuff. You wanna be in charge of your life, that’s why we get into rock ‘n’ roll. Suddenly it was slipping out of his control. We made the mistake of playing a place with seats. It just made the show that much harder. But by the end, we got ‘em outta the seats. We went to Amsterdam, Stockholm, and back to London. The second one was a bit easier.” The experience had a prolonged effect on Bruce. “He was uptight in those days and would remain so through Darkness into The River, until he asked me to produce the record and we found a way to have some fun.”

Track 7: Epic Records, Steve Popovich and The Stone Pony

Back on the shore, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes continued the Stone Pony residency throughout 1975, gradually consolidating their line-up. For the next three years, between Springsteen commitments, Steven worked as their producer, arranger, manager, part-time guitarist and principal songwriter. In early 1976, after circulating a demo tape, they signed a recording deal with Epic, with assistance from Steve Popovich, the label’s Vice-President of A&R. “I Don’t Want To Go Home,” the song that Steven had kept in his back pocket since his days on the oldies circuit, became the title track of their debut album and their first single. Ben E King’s loss was Southside’s gain.

“I produced [the song] in a way which was appropriate for the Jukes. They didn’t have a big background vocal thing going on,” explains Steven. “I was very conscious of being able to try and do most of it live, although I put strings on it, on my very first production! There was no synthesiser in those days that could play strings. That’s why I re-cut it [on Soulfire] the original way I pictured it, with the singer and background vocals answering. That idea of writing for someone else is extremely important, critical and essential. It changes the way you write completely, from when you think of writing for yourself, which is extraordinarily complicated and confusing. It’s not easy, but easier, to write for someone else. There’s their identity in your mind at least. I’m writing them a song. That’s a wonderful exercise for songwriters.” I Don’t Want To Go Home was released in the summer of 1976 (“I’ve never received one penny of royalties, but whatever!”). The Jukes later began their first national tour and made their European debut in 1977.

Recommended by Bruce, Steve Popovich was one of a kind. “The last of the real music guys in the business. The only other person I can compare him to would be Lance Freed on the publishing side, who’s unique. He’s actually into music and songwriting and the things you’re supposed to be into when you have a job description like that. And Frank Barsalona, the only agent who really did his job and would set the standard for everybody to follow. Those three guys, really quite historic. [It was] Popovich’s idea to launch the record with a broadcast from the Stone Pony. Never been done before. Popovich loved the local scene idea and he largely made it happen. It never would have been recognised nationally, I don’t think, if it hadn’t been for Popovich, who had the vision to say it’s cool if you’re not from New York. Rather than being embarrassed if you’re not from New York, LA or Nashville, it’s actually cool.”

Track 8: Production Credits and Political Awakening

Steven developed his talents as a producer and songwriter with the Jukes in the late 70s, following I Don’t Want To Go Home with This Time It’s For Real and Hearts Of Stone. Successive releases featured greater quantities of his original material, which included “I Played The Fool,” “This Time Baby’s Gone For Good,” “Take It Inside” and “Some Things Just Don’t Change,” apparently written for another of his heroes, David Ruffin of The Temptations. During this period, he also produced the “Say Goodbye To Hollywood” single for Ronnie Spector and the E Street Band and provided production assistance on Darkness On The Edge Of Town. His relationship with the Jukes ended when they left Epic for Mercury in 1979 and he went on to co-produce The River and two comeback albums for Gary US Bonds, Dedication and On The Line. It was an impressive fast-track apprenticeship. Steven had no production experience when he began. He acquired the skills and learned from his mistakes in the studio. “That’s why all three Jukes albums are different,” he says. “By the time we did The River, I knew what I wanted to do. I got it all down by then. That’s how I tend to do things. I can picture what I want. Jump in, do it, let’s see what happens.”

Steven also kept his promise to himself to bring his musical heroes out of obscurity, initially as guests on the first two Jukes albums. “I did what I could, but I wanted to do so much more,” he admits. “First time I get in a studio, got Lee Dorsey out from under a car, where he’s a mechanic. Got Ronnie Spector out of retirement. Second album, we reunited The Coasters, Drifters and Five Satins. Me and Bruce worked with Gary Bonds. We got Ben E King and Chuck Jackson on that record. Those artists had a talent level noticeably above everybody that followed. I wish I’d been insistent on doing more of them. In those [early] days, you actually had to have talent to make records. You had to be able to sing a song, beginning to end, perfectly in tune, perfectly the right melody, and if you fuck up one word, you gotta do the whole thing again. Couldn’t do enough for those people, they were so much fun to produce.”

In addition to his studio accomplishments, Steven played more than 300 shows with Bruce and the E Street Band between 1976 and 1981, primarily on the Darkness On The Edge Of Town and River tours. The majority took place in North America, but the River tour included a European leg that took the band away from home and out of their comfort zone for nine weeks. Much longer than their previous visit in 1975, it was their first significant experience of foreign countries, languages, cultures and political perspectives. They received rave reviews wherever they played, but Steven gradually became aware that not all Europeans viewed the United States in a favourable light.

One particular encounter was pivotal in dramatically reshaping Steven’s worldview. “A kid asked me, ‘Why are you putting missiles in my country?’ I said, ‘I’m not, I’m a guitar player.’ I realised, for the first time in my life, at the age of 30 I’m embarrassed to say, that I’m an American. What the fuck does that mean? I managed to grow up in the middle of civil rights, the Vietnam War, demonstrations about every fucking thing and had no interest in any of it. Amazing when you think about it. Redefining tunnel vision. Suddenly, the tunnel is gone. We’re now successful. Who would have ever figured that would happen, right? Now it’s like, uh-oh, what did I miss, the last 20 years?”

Track 9: Men Without Women, Motown and Mixing In Mono

This revelation accelerated Steven’s growing political awareness, one of two important developments in 1981 that would change the course of his life forever. The second came when he returned from Europe and was approached by EMI America about making a solo album. Having spent six years producing and writing for others, he welcomed the opportunity to have his own creative outlet, which soon expanded into a separate career. In the fall, he enlisted musicians from the E Street Band and the Asbury Jukes to record most of the material for his debut album, Men Without Women, using his established rock-meets-soul sonic blueprint. Including “Lyin’ In A Bed Of Fire,” “Princess Of Little Italy,” “Angel Eyes” and “Until The Good Is Gone,” it remains an undisputed career highlight for Van Zandt devotees, but Steven feels that an outside producer might have helped him make a more commercial record.

“Conventional wisdom is you never should produce yourself and I have to say that’s correct. The only exception I can think of in the history of the business was Prince, who was an extraordinary genius, but other than him, I don’t know anybody who successfully produces themselves.” Describing himself as “extremely schizophrenic, I’m twelve different people, never mind two,” Steven explains how his inner producer failed to control the whims of his inner artist. “Without knowing it, the artist takes over. I was into this extreme naturalism, no logical reason why. I did the whole album live in one day. Came back the second day, did it again, beginning to end. Couple overdubs, that was it. There’s one guitar. The horns aren’t doubled. Nothing’s doubled. Bruce did all the harmony on that record but we couldn’t use his name. We [did] a similar thing with Born In The USA, where we just recorded live in the studio.”

“I made Bob Clearmountain mix ‘Forever’ in mono, to try and achieve the perfect Motown record. It’s never gonna be exact and it shouldn’t be exact, why should it be, but I wanted to capture a Smokey Robinson Motown record. The only way I could do that in my mind was to make it completely mono. He was so good in those days. I mean Bob’s still the best, but in those days he was beyond the best. He was something else when it came down to that Neve board that wasn’t automated, and he’s feelin’ those faders. I made him do something he’d never done before, which requires a whole different way of thinking. You’re now thinking depth-wise and vertically, not horizontally.”

“That’s where my head was at. Can I achieve the emotional communication that my heroes had provided me? My heroes being Motown in general, 10 acts there. Or my heroes at Chess, another 10 acts. Sam Phillips did ‘Rocket 88’ for Ike Turner (Jackie Brenston) and ‘How Many More Years’ for Howlin’ Wolf, three years before Elvis Presley. Unbelievable genius. [I’m] trying to achieve that level of quality in my own world, in my own little bubble, which has these ridiculously high standards. I’m absorbing the 50s and 60s and then trying to integrate them in my head and reproduce them in my own way, not the least bit interested in what’s going on in the 70s or 80s certainly, because it was shit to me, comparatively. An interesting moment here and there. Punk was certainly interesting. But mostly it’s all coming from what I call the renaissance period, ‘51 to ‘71, where it all was created. And that’s true to this day. That’s all I was interested in and that was enough for 10 lifetimes. I didn’t need another bit of input after 1972.”

Track 10: Little Steven, Little Richard and Bob Dylan

In 1982, after recording with Bruce and Gary US Bonds, Steven completed his album, formed the Disciples of Soul (which included Dino Danelli from The Rascals on drums, Jean Beauvoir on bass and Eddie Manion, Mark Pender, Stan Harrison and La Bamba on horns) and played a debut concert at New York’s Peppermint Lounge. Released in October, a month after Nebraska, Men Without Women preceded his first national tour and was credited to his new professional name of Little Steven, which would be used for all future solo activities. “I just wanted separation [from] being the sideman,” he explains. “Each of my personalities required a different name, in order to keep it straight in people’s heads and my own head.” The name referenced his early heroes Little Walter, Little Anthony and Little Richard. In his role as an ordained minister, the latter officiated at Steven’s wedding to Maureen Santoro in New York on New Year’s Eve. Percy Sledge sang “When A Man Loves A Woman” as they walked down the aisle and the reception included performances from Gary US Bonds, Little Milton, The Chambers Brothers and the wedding band from The Godfather. “Little Anthony was doing a cruise at the time or he would have been there.”

“All I can think is, we’ve been hoping to get into recording our whole lives, I’m listening to this and it sounds fucking terrible. Not just the horn charts, everything. It was the worst period of recording in history. Virtually every record from the 50s and 60s sounded great, virtually every record from the early 70s sounded terrible. Because engineers took over, started close miking, padding the walls. Separation, separation, separation, all the things that make rock ‘n’ roll suck. The idea was, you isolate everything and make it sound exciting in the mix. Which they managed to do, miraculously, with the Born To Run album. Because it was pieced together in a bizarre way. Bruce made that record 100% out of willpower, he willed that into existence!”

Steven toured internationally in 1983, then dropped the horns, adopted a more contemporary rock sound and made his second album, Voice Of America. It was an explicitly political record that featured “Solidarity,” “I Am A Patriot,” “Out Of The Darkness,” “Los Desaparecidos” and “Undefeated.” Triggered by his River tour experiences in Europe, this radical transformation was completed with a long period of self-education. “I read every book about post World War Two [US] foreign policy. [It was] shocking how often we were on the wrong side. All of these bad things were happening behind the scenes and nobody was talking about them. No political consciousness whatsoever in the country. I decided I have an obligation to say something about this stuff that we’re all paying for with our taxes.”

“Being conscious of the fact that everybody needs their own identity, I figured who the hell needs another love song from a fucking sideman? I’ll be the political guy. Nobody else is doing it. There were people demonstrating of course. Jackson Browne, John Hall, Bonnie Raitt, Graham Nash, those guys. The Grateful Dead were doing a benefit every week, but rarely did it end up in the work. In general, people weren’t putting much politics into the lyrics of their songs.” For artists with commercial aspirations, he concedes, that’s a smart move. “Jefferson Airplane being an exception with ‘Volunteers.’ Big exception, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, with Neil Young’s ‘Ohio.’”

Steven contends that Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues” introduced the idea of political consciousness in rock ‘n’ roll. “His first electric song. It’s not given enough credit. The first sentence from Bob Dylan’s electric period, ‘Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine, I’m on the pavement thinking about the government.’ What? You’re doing what? You’re thinking about the government? Excuse me? Who does that? Whoever did that before, in a song, no less? There in that one sentence, Bob Dylan communicated what his entire career was gonna be about, which was having fun with language, with inference, symbolism, metaphor and nonsense lyrics that rhymed. ‘Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine,’ what does that mean? It means whatever you want it to mean, right? Then ‘I’m on the pavement thinking about the government.’ Holy shit! You mean we’re supposed to figure out the government? That, to me, is the most important sentence in all the history of rock ‘n’ roll, right there.”

All photos below by Mike Saunders

[regrettablewritings]

How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this. 

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery,  as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

[unibrowzz]

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part VII (FINALE)- The 2010s

And we’re on the home stretch! Just 10 songs left now.

The 2010s stands as the only decade I watched live and the only decade I haven’t yet rewatched, mainly because I have no interest to. I’ve already seen the contest anyway, if a song didn’t stick with me then, it probably won’t now.

Also prepare for some hotter than usual takes, mostly down to the 10s contests being the most well known due to recency bias. I can say whatever the Hell I want about older contests and what songs I despise from there, but one non-positive comment about Euphoria and suddenly about five butthurt anons appear in my inbox telling me why I’m wrong.

But without further ado, let’s finish these off!

2010: Satellite

Country: Germany

Artist: Lena Meyer-Landrut

Language: English

Thoughts: I used to defend this song a lot, for some reason. I used to get super defensive when people dismissed it as a cheap lazy pop song that shouldn’t have won over (insert song here, but let’s be real here, 99% of the time it’s Turkey's equally cheap lazy emo rock song) and that it robbed so many better entries, blah blah, you know the drill. And I think it’s because it was the first winner I saw as I started properly watching in 2010, so I didn’t want to shit all over the winner that introduced me to the contest. Or maybe it’s that it makes me really nostalgic, or something to that effect. But, dear God, why did I? It’s so… not worth it. I appreciate it for being a much less instrumental-heavy winner, with its skippy, snappy beat and bouncing vocals which sound closer to plain talking than actual singing, but… How many times were the lyrics ran through GoogleTranslate before they were finalised? What’s with the janky, overexaggerated fake-English accent? Why does the singer look embarrassed to be a part of this? Why was this written?  And how the FUCK did it win? It’s so weird and awkward to listen to. It’s the song equivalent of trying to make small talk with that one classmate you never talk to because they’re shy and boring. It’s like listening to an old person laugh half-heartedly at their not-that-funny old person joke. It’s canned laughter in a mediocre sitcom. It’s just an awkward, painful to listen to song that’s made all the more painful by the fact that Germany has sent much better songs that easily could have replaced this as their one post-reunification winner.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Spain- Daniel Diges- “Algo Pequeñito”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 60th

2011: Running Scared 

Country: Azerbaijan

Artist: Ell and Niki 

Language: English

Thoughts: Look, this one isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Doesn’t mean it’s good, or that I find it particularly good, but the worst winner of all time? Goodness no, it doesn't even come remotely close. What we have here is a mildly pleasant ballad duet song with a distinctive sad-boyband vibe. Like you can definitely hear the “X-Factor winner’s first cover song” energy just radiating off it from the first few lines. I suppose you could argue that that does make it feel a bit clinical and like it’s trying too hard to be a big hit, but come on, it’s not like this is the first winner like that. The singing is alright; better than half the singing that won in the 2000s anyway, and the male singer especially has a nice voice. The lyrics aren’t exactly poetry, sure, but again, other winners have terrible lyrics as well and don’t receive nearly as much hate as this one does. And… that’s it. Why all the hate? No idea, but I can only assume the people who declare this song to be the worst winner ever haven’t heard anything that won before 2010.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Denmark- A Friend in London- “New Tomorrow”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 42nd

2012: Euphoria

Country: Sweden

Artist: Loreen

Language: English

Thoughts: Ugh. Listen. This is not a bad song. It’s decent, middle of the table, listenable, marketable, well sung, well performed, well shot. I must stress, this is not a bad song. But the best Eurovision song of all time? Absolutely not. Euphoria is one of the few winners I would describe as “overrated”, and that isn’t a term I use lightly (since it’s overused as Hell), because frankly, I don’t see what people see in this song. Hell, I forgot it completely until the 2012 voting, and further still until mid 2013 when a friend said he liked it. This song left that little of an impression on me that I completely forgot everything about it for a solid year.  And considering how many fans regard this to be one of the best, if not the best song to ever come out of the contest... that baffles me, I just can’t wrap my head around why so many people hold this song up on a pedestal and worship it like it was dropped from the hands of God himself. And I'm not sure if it's because this just isn't a genre I care about, or if it's because this was WAY back when I was a casual fan who didn't follow any of the songs or artists so didn't know who'd be the favourite going in like I do now, and therefore didn’t know to keep an ear out for this one. Or maybe you have to be piss drunk and at a nightclub to really feel the impact of this song. This song triggers absolutely no response from me other than “Oh, a Eurovision song”. I feel no emotion towards it aside from complete indifference. I can’t deny that this song made an impact, it just… didn’t make an impact on me.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Spain- Pastora Soler- “Quedate Conmigo”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 40th

2013: Only Teardrops

Country: Denmark

Artist: Emmelie de Forest

Language: English

Thoughts: Let me ask you a question: What do you get when you sandwich an otherwise decent pop song between two of the most iconic and recognizable winners of the decade? You get this. Only Teardrops is a weird, weird winner to me. On one hand, the fandom acts like it might as well not exist, you go straight from Euphoria to Rise Like a Phoenix, who cares about that filler song which came between them. On the other hand, I know a lot of people who really like it, yet all of them are either very casual fans or not fans at all. So this makes me feel like this song’s main weakness is that it’s too mainstream, at least for Eurovision fans. What are my thoughts? It depends. For one, I enjoy this song a LOT more than Euphoria; I always have done and I’m not ashamed or afraid to admit that. I find this song has a lot more personal appeal, particularly a much bigger finale in my opinion, and being surrounded by people who like this song has admittedly kept me fond of it. BUT, I still wouldn’t necessarily call it a favourite of mine. Maybe a favourite of the 2010s, but not overall. At the end of the day, it’s a little too generic, a little too normal, a little too like every other song you’d hear on the radio. It’s not really a song I find myself coming back to again and again and loving every time, it’s the song I stick on to shut my family up when they want to listen to Eurovision music and I’m too shy to show them the songs I actually really like. It's just a decent song that's unfortunate enough to be stuck in between two more iconic winners, doomed to be little more than the answer in a pub quiz question.  And even though I do prefer this one to some of those icons, and don’t really have anything else to say about it, it’s just enjoyable yet kind of bland.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Iceland

If no, what is? Iceland- Eyþór Gunnlaugsson- “Ég á Líf”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 16th

2014: Rise Like a Phoenix

Country: Austria

Artist: Conchita Wurst

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the man who made the entire continent of Europe collectively forget what a drag queen is. What a shitshow that night was. But I'm not here to talk about that, I'm here to rate/say some things about the song, and honestly? This is arguably the most vocally impressive winner from the 2010s. Seriously, there’s nothing I can fault here; this guy’s got some serious pipes. Every time I go back to it I just end up blown away by how powerful and raw this song is. And obviously good vocals alone can’t carry a song forever, otherwise I would’ve had nicer things to say about the early 70s and mid 90s, but with this song the vocals go hand-in-hand with the gimmick. Without the powerful vocals this would just be a knockoff Bond theme sung by a drag queen with a beard, like it’d just be another sensationalist gimmick song to throw onto the pile with all the other gimmick songs. But with the good singing, this has the distinction that it’s a gimmick entry that still had every right to win because the singer was actually competent. Also unlike the 70s winners this one actually has strong emotions tied to it rather than it just being a bunch of pretty French words, so there’s that.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or the Netherlands tbh

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 17th

2015: Heroes

Country: Sweden

Artist: Måns Zelmerlöw 

Language: English 

Thoughts: Fun fact: I was so bitter this won that I stormed off before the voting was done and cried in my room over it. I hated everything about this song: I hated how Sweden won just three years after their last win, I hated how the staging was just BEGGING people to vote for it, and I ESPECIALLY hated how it beat out the televote favourite because the juries were too busy wanking off to this one to care about anything else. I just despised everything about this song, and it turned me into an obnoxious jury-hater for a solid year.  And yes, I'm extremely embarrassed of all that because honestly this song is fantastic. I would go as far to say it's my favourite Swedish winner, maybe not one of my favourite Swedish entries but definitely my favourite winner of theirs. Everything about this is just so appealing to me, from the brooding intro and vocals, to the lyrics, to the staging, my GOD the staging! It’s one of the best performances of the contest to date; It's impressive without being tacky or try-hard, he interacts with his background, and that little doodle boy character he’s created is adorable. I just love this performance, it’s so mesmerising.

Was this my personal winner for this year? Not then, is now

If no, what was? Then? Serbia- Bojana Stamenov- “Beauty Never Lies”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 11th

2016: 1944

Country: Ukraine

Artist: Jamala

Language: English, some Crimean words

Thoughts: I mean… it’s good until she starts singing. Now I am by all means not an advocate for bringing back the old language rule, but songs like this sure as Hell make me one. This should have been left entirely in Crimean. Simple as that. The English lyrics are bloody awful, no way to sugarcoat it, and absolutely annihilate the potential this song is otherwise seething with, because the instrumental to this song is fantastic and the chorus and climax give me goosebumps. The performance at the contest was chilling as well; a perfect blend of both simple yet flashy staging to set up a really uneasy atmosphere that compliments the song perfectly but, God, the lyrics are bad, man, especially for such a serious song about a personal topic.  That said, it's still the only song in the 2016 top 3 that seemed winner-worthy, unlike Australia's obvious Jurybait and Russia's obvious Telebait. So… it has that. 

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? France- Amir Haddad- “J’ai Cherché”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 57th

2017: Amar Pelos Dois 

Country: Portugal 

Artist: Salvador Sobral 

Language: Portuguese (Translation: “Both of us”)

Thoughts: I still question why it took Portugal until 20-fucking-17 to even reach the top five, but that's a rant for another day.  Not that this is a rant, far from it. Anybody who knows me knows that I love this song after all, and that it’s one of the few winners I remain rather defensive of, though that’s mostly down to the amount of hate this song and its singer receive.  I will defend Sal and his hot takes on pop music until I die. Now I’ll admit, this song surprised me in more ways than one. Namely by actually winning the televote; given how this song has split opinions clean down the board as to whether it’s spine-tinglingly beautiful or soul-crushingly boring, I was expecting it to come mid-table in the televote whilst some other country swiped first. Yet somehow it managed to stomp the televote just as hard as it stomped the jury vote. I guess I wasn’t the only person this struck a chord with after all. Also, I can’t be the only one who thinks this is a perfect dance song? Like it’s great for ballroom, or contemporary. It’s so dreamy and flowy, and I usually HATE dreamy flowy songs, yet this one just resonates with me for some reason and I’m not sure why.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 4th

2018: Toy

Country: Israel

Artist: Netta Barzilai

Language: English, some chicken noises, cringe

Thoughts: And here we have another case for bringing back the language rule, because if this song had a Hebrew version I would 100% listen to it more often. When I heard Israel was sending an, ahem, "feminist anthem" about the #MeToo trend on twitter, my first reaction was "ew". When I heard it was the favourite to win, my reaction was also "ew". And when I heard the song for the first time? "Hm, not as bad as I thought."  And also "ew". This song is just embarrassing. I’m embarrassed listening to it, I’m embarrassed watching it, and I’m embarrassed when someone mentions it when I’m trying to convince them Eurovision actually has good music. You can just tell from the first few lines that it was written by middle aged men trying to shill themselves out to gullible young women who think listening to a song by some Israeli DJ “empowers” them.  And let’s be honest here: “empowering” is just media speak for “shit”. The only thing stopping me from putting it at the VERY bottom is the instrumental and performance because without the cringy lyrics you’re left with a pretty good club song, and I swear to God Netta Barzilai could sell herself sneezing for 3 minutes. If “Toy” had been entirely in Hebrew I would’ve given it a pass, and maybe a cheeky vote or two.  But, alas, that was not to be.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Italy- Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro- “Non mi Avete fatto Niente”

Personal ranking (out of 67):  64th

2019: Arcade

Country: The Netherlands

Artist: Duncan Laurence

Language: English

Thoughts: You know, in my 9 or so years watching the contest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt genuinely ecstatic watching a song win. Most of the time I either feel neutral (most of them) or a more general, content kind of happy (2014 and 2017). Like I’ve never let out a shout of joy and slid on my knees across my living room floor in sheer, blind happiness. But that’s what I did with “Arcade”. I’m not really sure why that is because, I must confess, it wasn’t my personal winner of the night, and, looking back, I preferred other songs, but… God, I just can’t explain how overwhelmingly happy I was when this song won. I’m not sure if it’s because I was alone or if I was rooting for this deep down (or if it’s because it was between this song or fuckin’ Sweden again). But that’s by the by. How’s the song? Honestly? Really good. One of my favourites of this decade, if I’m honest. It’s the kind of song that’s grown on me a lot since the night of the contest; even though it wasn’t my favourite song from 2019, I’m not mad at all at it winning.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Honestly I had about 10

If no, what is? I could list them if you want

Personal ranking (out of 67):  6th

[nightwingshero]

Hold Me Down Chapter 2

Yasss! Not only did I find the original chapter, but it’s way better than it was before. I’m super happy for this one! @ja-crispea @chazz-anova @faithchel I thought it would be important for you to know what happened with Wren and her ice cream, because let’s be honest, that’s the true ship of this fic. There’s the twist, spoiler alert. Wren x Ice cream.

It was a hot day, hotter than what it had been for the past few days. I huffed as I made my ascent, my ponytail swayed, sweat gathering at the back of my neck and my shoes slapped against the ruined tile as I went. A small plastic bag in one hand, and a large brown bag cradled with my arm. I was eager to enjoy the rest of my day in my apartment, eating ice cream and wallowing in my self-pity before coming up with another score. My pride was still wounded from getting caught. It pissed me off even more when I had found a chip in my throwing knife. Fucking bastard.

I hated grocery shopping only due to the fact that I didn’t like being around people. Dutch often joked to us darkly that we were in the business of people. Just that most of the time, they ended up dead. He wasn’t wrong, and perhaps that was what twisted my stomach so much. Despite him taking me off the street and teaching me everything all he knew, creating who and what I was, I could never come to agree or appreciate his values. I didn’t like killing and cutting my emotions out was nearly impossible. I was his greatest failure but was far from his greatest disappointment. No, she would always hold that place.

I freeze when I come to my floor, eyeing the man leaning against the wall next to my apartment door that was cracked open. He had a hand in his pocket, the other fidgeting with the toothpick in his mouth as he looked at his shoes. I could tell that his dark tan suit was cheap, his longish dark hair swept back just a bit, and I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose in disgust from his demeanor. I could almost guarantee that he was showered in cheap cologne as he used his false confidence to throw his weight around and I crinkled my nose at the sight of his badge on his belt. Cops. My veins turn to ice as I eye it, fear twisting in my gut. I had been so careful. But I square my shoulders, because I know my rights well enough that he needed a warrant.

“Can I help you?” I asked, my voice curious and a bit annoyed. He wasn’t welcome here, not from a long shot, and I wanted him out of my space.

He looked up, his brown eyes sweeping over me before giving me a lopsided smirk. “Well, hey there.” He straightened, shifting his weight. I eyed his stubble and his hair was gelled and combed back half assed. I fought the urge to rip into him, I didn’t need a detective who believed he was nothing by a womanizer sniffing around me. “Wren Blake, right?”

“Who’s asking?” I replied, narrowing my eyes at him.

He just chuckled. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“We?” I asked, glancing in my apartment. A woman stood taking pictures with her cell phone in gloved hands. Her dark hair was braided to the side and shined in the light my living room as she took pictures. His partner, I was sure. Her suit was crisp, the black blouse unbuttoned a bit to show off the golden cross around her neck. It’s fast, the way I take her in, but I was trained to be observant. One of the reasons I had survived as long as I have. But I’m tense as her dark eyes find mine, stern and professional. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Do you have a warrant? Because breaking and entering is illegal, Detective.”

“You bet your sweet ass we have a warrant.” The man cut in, taunting me with a smirk. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you, sweetheart. You think you could charm your way out of this?”

“Pratt.” His partner scolded before giving another glance around the apartment as she lowered the phone. She barley acknowledged the underlining threat as she turned and studied me. “Wren Marie Blake. You are wanted for assault, larceny, false pretenses, and I believe there’s a count against you for arson. There’s more, should I continue?” Her voice is confident, borderline cocky, but I don’t rise to the bait. “Wanted in many cities, at that. Word is you made quite the splash in Los Angeles. You’ve been busy.”

“And you didn’t answer my question.” I shot back, shift my weight to my other foot as I adjust the paper bag full of food. “Do you have a warrant?”

The woman took a step forward, her eyes drilling into mine. “You’ve got one helluva rep sheet, Blake.” She whipped a piece of paper out in front of me and I frowned. “And I’m going to need you to come with us.”

I sigh, glaring at the floor by her feet. Defeated, I sigh. “Fine, but can I at least put my food away? I have ice cream in here.”

 I couldn’t tell you how long I waited in the interrogation room, but it felt like hours. The room was only lit by shitty fluorescent lighting that gave the room a more eerily feel. I could almost roll my eyes from the drama of it. I leaned back and crossed my arms. I knew they were doing this on purpose, a tactic I wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with. It didn’t really do any good, all things considered. If anything, it gave me time to prepare for whatever they were going to slap me with and asking for a lawyer was the card up my sleeve if this went south quickly. I was ready for every scenario.

The door opened, bringing my attention from my inner musings and to the four people that had graced me with their presence. Two of them were the same detectives I had seen earlier, Thing One and Thing Two. An older man stood next to them, to the side with big glasses and a weird mustache. I could take a guess that he was the Captain of the precinct, but I wasn’t for sure. The other man was pretty much bald, his hair cut tight against his head, and a goatee that almost had me laughing. His dark skin looked almost pale with the lighting of the room, especially with the cheap blue suit and white oxford shirt underneath. He held himself with an air of authority that put him on a pedestal. I groaned internally. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get along with this man.

He slammed a file down on the metal table, watching me close for a reaction, and I raised a brow at him. It was apparent he had an air for dramatics. “I’m Special Agent Cameron Burke, this is Captain Whitehorse, and you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting Detective Pratt and Detective Hudson.” Ah. He was a fed. That explained so much. He leaned against the chair in front of me as he stared me down. “You see that? We have a whole file against you. You’re gonna go away for a long time.”

I just continued to stare at him, unimpressed. “Yeah. It’s a file. That was a little unnecessary, don’t you think? Things echo in here.”

He sneered. “You think this is funny? A game?”

“No, on the contrary, I find this rather irritating. What so-called evidence do you have against me?” I replied icily. I didn’t have the patience for this, I wanted the hell out of here. He smirked and flipped open the file, spreading pictures and documents across the table.

I kept my face neutral, still unimpressed, but my insides were panicked. I schooled my expression as I studied the black and white shots of me doing different jobs in different cities. Some in wigs, different outfits, and even one from last night before I had walked into the charity gala. I studied the bank statements from an offshore account before I looked at him. “What’s this supposed to prove? Other than the fact that you’re stalking me for no reason?”

Burke scoffed, a dark glint in his eyes. “We shook down one of your fences, Blake. I’m sure Victor Boshaw rings a bell?” He pushed a photo forward of the gruffy bearded man, and right there next to him, was me.

Victor “Sharky” Boshaw was a fence I had been using for a few years, first meeting in Montana. He was completely erratic an unorthodox, and definitely obnoxious. There wasn’t ever a boring moment with that idiot. But I could always depend on him to move whatever I brought him, and he always gave me a decent price. One of the few people in the market that didn’t screw me over, and as off-the-wall he was, he wasn’t snitch. Sharky always had my back, I knew better. He wouldn’t say a damn thing.

I glared at him. “You’re starting to sound like my father who is telling me its illegal to have friends.”

His face burned as he shoved the chair out of his way, slamming his hands on the table. I jumped as he growled at me. “I’ve had it with your bullshit!” I pursed my lips as his eyes pinned me down. “Look, I’ve been onto you, watching you for a few years now. I know you have ties that you try to hide. I’ve been trying to pin down Dutch and that entire organization.”

I paled immediately, swallowing as I felt my body become weightless. That wasn’t expected. “What?” I breathed out and he smirked.

“That’s right, princess. I know all about that.” He slowly straightened, crossing his arms as he began to circle me. “Taking teenagers off the streets, kids that have no future or have been victims of tragedy. Training them young is key, isn’t it? Teaching how to steal, trick, and to read people. Running cons…but it gets a bit darker than that, doesn’t it? That’s just tip of the iceberg.”

I clench my teeth as flashbacks hit me. The abandoned factory had lighting much like this room. It was always cold in that damn place, and the memory sent a chill down my spine. I hated that building. I hated the way that I had looked up to him as a father figure as he put a knife in my hand, and a gun next. Hand-to-hand combat, knife throwing, shooting…the real operation was far darker than stealing diamonds from a plastered elite.

He grabbed the back of my chair leaning to talk in my ear, the smell of his hot coffee breath fanned across my face. “Training future hitmen and assassins in the underground is definitely something the FBI is interested in taking down. I’ve tracked your every step; I have eyes and ears everywhere. Sounds like a certain someone is pretty upset that their perfect little protégé turned her back on them.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How the hell had he found out? My palms became sweaty, my heart racing as thoughts flew through my mind. I wanted to scream out of frustration, but I knew I couldn’t. That stupid male detective, Pratt, wouldn’t stop smirking and I was ready to claw his face off. My pride was shot to hell and I was pissed that he had known.

“It would be…such a shame if someone were to leak your position to them, wouldn’t it?”

Pure dread settled in as anger raged through my veins. I clenched my fists tightly. “What’s your point?” I hissed. Burke moved again, walking away with a sickening swagger.

“Well, despite the fact that we’re hunting down Dutch and his posse, it occurs to me that well…it seems a bit pointless to use you to track him down with you being defective.” I flinched at his word choice when he finally turned back to me. “The DA believes he has a bigger issue than what us feds have going on, being less concerned for the bigger picture. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Seed family by now?” I furrowed my brow as I looked at him. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Perfect. That makes this easier.”

“What do they have to do anything? What’s your point?”

Hudson stepped forward with another file, placing it down like a normal human being. “Joseph Seed is at the head of a major crime family, as you know.” Flipping the file open, she placed four pictures in front of me, pointing as she went. “His brother Jacob is in charge of security and running guns. He’s involved with underground fighting rings and training their personnel. His military background helps him out, obviously.” His beard was gruffer than Sharky’s, but his red hair was to the side, with a tight cut on the side. Scars littered his face, almost like burn marks. She would recognize those anywhere. “Then there’s the little sister. The little angel. We don’t have much detail on her, but as far as I know, she seems to be the one recruiting. She’s also their loan shark, so to speak. She also helps set up deals for this one,” she lands on a picture of a man I’m all too familiar with. “In particular. And he is hard to tie down. John is their lawyer, and he’s a damn good one. Knows how to read people like the back of his hand. He’s known for extortion, blackmail, and a few others. He has a lot of important people in his back pocket, making him practically untouchable. And as scary and dangerous as Jacob is, John is the one to look out for. He is known for cutting into people as punishment and is merciless.”

“Grade A psycho.” Pratt muttered with a twist of his mouth and his eyes cast downward.

“The point is, if I had to choose, he’s going to be the most dangerous to you.” Hudson continued, and I looked up at her confused. They hadn’t known about what happened a couple nights ago, did they?

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What the fuck do I have to be worried about? That sounds like your problem.” I replied with a snarky tone, and Hudson glared at me with her jaw ticking.

“Its your problem,” Finally, the Captain spoke and stepped forward a bit. He tried to seem confident, but there was a weariness that I couldn’t exactly place. “Because you’re going to be working with them.”

I stared at him as I let it sink in, and turned my gaze to the fed. “What?” I whispered harshly.

Burke seemed to be enjoying this a little too much as he grinned like the damn Cheshire cat. “We’re going to use those skills of yours to our advantage, since you’re here with your hands tied and off Dutch’s radar. You’re going in as a double agent for us. You’ll be feeding us intel as you spy on the family and help us take them down by providing incriminating evidence that will put them away for life. Things that even the baby brother can’t weasel out of.”

“Are you fucking insane?” I breathed out, eyes wide. “You want me to be a mole? Do you know how hard it is to get into a family like that? And assuming that, by some fucking miracle, I do…you know what they do to people like that? Do you have any fucking idea what they would do to me? They would kill me after making an example of me, you know they would!” I snapped. Frustration was so close to turning to tears as I shifted in the metal chair, but I quickly blinked them away.

“Then I suggest not getting caught.” Burke sneered. “But you would die for a greater cause, Blake. Maybe that makes you feel better.”

“And if I say no?”

He leaned forward slowly, menacingly, and got in my face. “You’re either with us or against us. You either do this…or you go to prison. From my position, it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice. But what do you say? You in or are you out?”

   I walked quickly in the Georgia night, anger and determination fueling every step. I stopped only to light a cigarette, inhaling and savoring the burn in my lungs. I was nothing but a bundle of nerves. They had told me the family would be at the club tonight, celebrating something, but their intel was good. My mind reeled, trying to come up with a plan that could even work. I hadn’t told Burke that John and I had already met, making this nearly impossible. I contemplated approaching him, admitting what was happening, and then getting the hell out of dodge. But the feds were following my every move now, and there was no guarantee John would let me walk away from that meeting alive.

I was going to do this my way, at my pace, and on my own. I had insisted. A dead informant wasn’t exactly beneficial. They laid down the ground rules with check ins and all that. I wasn’t allowed to leave town, let alone the state. I had to stay where they could keep an eye on me at all times. Something told me that Burke had a control issue.

I looked at the half-smoked cigarette before throwing it on the concrete, smashing it with my heel. My black dress hugged my curves tightly, the plunging neckline just subtle enough to keep the classy look. I kept my hair down again, curled just a bit. I pulled it up a bit, adjusting the top so my boobs weren’t spilling out. I sometimes loved this side of it, dressing up in cute, and even sexy, outfits. Sometimes I absolutely hated it, and tonight was one of those nights. I had planned to take it easy for a while, but after the loving conversation with the officers earlier, I had a change of heart. Apparently.

All it took for the bouncer to let me in was a bat of my lashes and coy smile, which I dropped the second I crossed the threshold. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but a dark lounge wasn’t it. Not that I complained at all, considering that I’ve had a rough day so far. I took the dimmed lights, the neon accents creating an ambiance of something I couldn’t quite describe. But it was as if I had stepping into a completely different world. I could get lost to the music playing through the speakers as a group of people danced.

Making my way to the bar, I motioned for the bartender as I folded my hands in my lap with my clutch. I smile brightly at the younger man. Blonde, curly hair with bright eyes, and maybe just a little too eager. I lean forward just a tad, a small smile on my lips. “Martini, dry with extra olives.”

He gave a quick nod before hastily getting everything together, but I paid him no mind. I searched, my eyes scanning face after face, desperate for the target. Detective Hudson had sworn they would be here, no doubt in her mind. Well, good for her. That didn’t ease my doubt one bit. Then again that she had to say could, I felt like I was being fed to the wolves. I hated every bit of it. The bartender returned, placing the glass down gently. I knew he was waiting to engage, but I just grabbed it and kept my attention on the crowd. I wasn’t here for social hour. I was here to watch. And so, I did, taking a sip of my drink.

I spot the sister first. A perfect white short dress with sleeves, her hair falling in waves and her ankles are crossed, ever the lady. Then the rest came into view, my heart pounding hard. A red-haired woman sat with her, holding her hand. They had mentioned that there were significant others, spouses, involved, and as I find Joseph Seed, I see his blonde wife with him. His hair is long, pulled back into a bun, and even though it was late at night and inside, he wore yellow aviators. Just like he had in the photo.

“I believe,” a voice called from behind me, and I freeze for only a second as he placed his hand on the bar behind me, his breath ruffling my hair as spoke in my ear. “I told you the next time I saw you, I would kill you.”

I take another drink as he moved from me, circling around with his eyes on me before taking the seat next to mine. Finally, I found my tongue and spine. “I think it was ‘if I catch you doing this again, I won’t hesitate to kill you’. If I remember correctly.”

John gave a charming smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “You think you’re clever.”

“No, I know I’m clever.” I scoffed, taking another sip, my eyes falling on his family again. I finally see his other brother, Jacob, standing with his arms crossed in his grey shirt.

“How cute.” he taunted. I opened my mouth to say something, but that’s when I see her. It takes all the years of my training to maintain my composure, because there was nothing I would love to do than to let the glass in my hand shatter against the floor. Rowan.

She looked the same, just a few more years older. Her dark hair was still long and wavy, her bright smile hadn’t changed a bit. It’s a shock that I can’t really shake, because she’s there, after all these years. I had thought she died, someone finally hunted her down. That’s what Dutch led us, me, to believe. To prove and show what happened if you turned your back on the family. And yet, here we both were, survivors of the dark world Dutch had brought us in.

I feel a hand on my knee the second her dark eyes catch mine and move away, not even hesitating as she looked around the room and the hand squeezed, bringing my attention to the company I was keeping. “I warned you about coming near my family.”

I turned to him with a glare. “You threatened me with your family’s name, and if I’m being honest here, I’m getting tired of it, Johnny.” I sneered, shoving his hand off my knee. I grabbed the toothpick out of my drink, angrily eating the olives. I glanced over again, but she continued to laugh in that dark green dress, like she hadn’t seen a blast from her past. As if she didn’t know me at all. It stung, but I couldn’t tell if her noticing me was a good thing or not. She would blow the whole thing before I could even get started.

John’s mouth twisted and I felt my stomach sink in dread at the realization of what I had just done. Rowan was just one issue, but I completely forgot the one sitting with me. “Better be careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire and you’ve been warned already.”

“And you owe me a new knife, Johnny. They are custom made and expensive, and due to your carelessness, the one has a chip in it. Where shall I send the bill?”

“You’re not as charming as you think you are, darling.” He leaned in with a sneer, his eyes promising danger. “And my patience is running very thin with it.”

I leaned forward, my nose crinkling unimpressed. “And you’re not nearly as scary as you believe you are. Now, if you don’t mind, run and get the big bad brother. I’m above dealing with the baby, Johnny Boy.”

His hand flew back to my leg, squeezing and digging his fingers hard into the meat of my leg. My back straightened as I clenched my teeth from the mix of pain and something else. I kept my composure the best I could, but I never hated John Seed more than I did in this moment. Pure loathing like venom on my tongue for the way he always found the upper hand.

“Would you like another, miss?”

I turned to see the young bartender smiling at me, his eyes wandering down before meeting my eyes again. “No.” John replied, throwing the guy a charming smile. “She’s just leaving.”

“Cool. Well, it’s on the house.” He said, throwing me a wink. I gave a fake smile as he walked away.

“It most certainly is not on the house.” John snapped. “I’m not paying for your drink.”

I raised a brow at him. “Oh, the big-time lawyer owns a bar and can’t afford to buy a lady a drink?”

“It’s a lounge.” He growled at me. “And you are not a lady.”

I smirked, my hand finding its way back into my clutch. Grabbing what I was looking for, I quickly press the tip of my knife against his inner thigh. He stiffened, and my burgundy lips curved even more. “Now, I think that you should know a few things about me, darling.” I leaned, my lips finding his ear to whisper. “I don’t like it when men feel the need to put their hands on me without my permission, no matter how big they think they are. And when they do, well…I’m very skilled with knives, John. I’m sure you can use your imagination. Now, if you don’t mind.” He slowly removed his hand, and as he did, I shifted, rising from the barstool. “Thank you. You’re such a dear. Here’s to hoping our next meeting is as lovely as this one.”

“You should hope we don’t meet again, sweetheart. Because I’m not going to be so kind anymore.” He breathed out, his voice ice. I placed a kiss on his cheek.

“If this was you call being kind, then I look forward to seeing the big bad wolf. I don’t mind playing rough. Just make sure you can take it as well as you can dish it.”

I move away before he can register and react. My heart was hammering in my chest, shocked by what I had just done and cursing myself. I was supposed to get in and win them over, and instead I was antagonizing the youngest and one of the most crucial members of that damn family. The one that I needed to watch out for even before any of this happened. And no one knew. I made the decision to keep it to myself out of fear. If they thought I couldn’t do it, I would’ve been done for. I needed to play along until I could find a way out of this damn mess.

I took a turn, a block away from the lounge, and I started to relax. The fear of him coming after me melted away with each step. Passing a dark alley, I slowed to light a cigarette for good measure. A hand slapped my cigarette and lighter out of my hands, and another grabbed a fistful of hair, painfully yanking it back. Fear pierced its way into my chest as I tried to fight back, a black bag being shoved over my head. I screamed, punching and kicking blindly. I suddenly felt sharp pain at the base of my neck, and I dropped to the ground.

  `The bag got yanked off harshly, and I squinted from the bright light. It took me a moment to adjust, and then I was finally able to take in my surroundings. I was in a mansion, that was obvious. Marble floors with weird ass designs that rich people swore made them look classier. That was a fucking lie. There was a double staircase wrapping around the room, and directly across from me, the double doors were open and gave me a good view of their pool area at night as thin white curtains danced in the evening breeze.

I go to move, but find my wrists and ankles were duct taped to the chair I was sitting in. It was then that I finally took account for the bulky men in black, standing around quietly with their hands clasped behind their backs. “Well, look who decided to wake up!” A loud and obnoxious southern voice pierced my eardrums, making me cringe. An overweight older gentleman began to make his way towards me, a cane in his hand. He wore just a polo and tan dress pants. I made a face at his sleazy appearance, the slicked back hair and stupid mustache. “It’s about damn time. We have some business to discuss.”

I sighed heavily, a sneer on my lips. “Oh, you got to be kidding me.” He stopped his advance for a moment, glaring at me. But I didn’t care. Tossing all caution to the wind, my anger got the best of me. “I’m not in the fucking mood for any of you. Do you know what kind of day I’ve had? Seriously? What is this? Some backwash hillbilly mob family from the fucking Georgia swamps? Is this what I’ve come to? Which one is the jackass?” I snapped.

His mouth twisted, and he moved faster than I had given him credit for. The sting of my face and the blood that filled my mouth was the only way I registered him hitting me. I spit out blood on his floor, some running down my chin as I slowly gave him a death glare. “Now I have your attention. Damn women.” He turned to the side, eyeing an older blonde in a red dress. She pursed her lips as she held her head high. “None of you listen. It’s why they should never do a damn man’s job. But here we are.”

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” I growled.

He scoffed. “Hurk Drubman Sr. I own one of the biggest marinas in Atlanta, selling sailboats. Also give those damn Seeds a run for their money when it comes to smuggling and gun dealing.”

“Haven’t been giving them much of a run, darlin’.” The blonde mocked with a smirk. He muttered something before turning back to me.

“I heard that you’re gonna help those damn feds take ‘em down. That true?”

I just stared at him, my face twisting in shock at the absurdity of the situation. “Where the fuck did you hear that?” I asked, completely exasperated.

“John fucking Seed isn’t the one with ties in the fucking police department.” I frowned, but he didn’t give me time to process that. “Either way, they’re undermining my slave trade, beating my gun deals—”

“Your…what?” I asked, hoping I heard him wrong.

His sick smile grew wider. “Slave trade, girlie. Sex trafficking. Its what’s making most of my money with that damn family taking the most of our business. And if you’re a good girl, you won’t have to worry about it.” A shiver went down my spine as I tried to wriggle in my restraints, but he paid me no mind. “Now, I know you cut a deal with those pigs downtown, but don’t worry about that. What I need you to do, is spy on them and get me information that will help my business grow.”

I sighed, giving up and glaring at the old man. “Are you serious? You expect me to play the Seeds and the feds? What the hell is wrong with this city?” I breathed out. “You’re insane. I would be lucky to even get close—”

“You got pretty close tonight.” He snarked back. “Left a pretty little mark on little Johnny’s check, my men say.” He walked, a cane in his hand as he limped forward. “We can do this the easy way, which is you agreeing and being a good little girl, doing what she’s told. Or, we could do this the hard way. I torture you, force you to agree, and if that doesn’t work…well, I could sell you or kill you. We could flip on it, make it a surprise.”

I forced the bile back down as my stomach twisted. I glanced to my right, catching the eyes of the old woman. She held a frown, glaring at her husband. When her eyes caught mine, she gave the slightest smile and nod, almost reassuring. “Well, let’s assume I say yes and do this, what do you plan on doing? You have the feds on my ass, and if your men aren’t totally blind, they would know that John and I aren’t exactly friendly. I don’t know what you expect.”

“I would like you to learn the ins and outs. Nothing too different than what you’re already doin’. Except you’re gonna give the information to me, frame the family, and take them down from the inside, while I get all their business.”

I made a face. “Oh, you’ve been watching way too many movies. There’s no fucking way—”

The end of the cane was pressed against my throat, cutting me off completely as I gagged. “There is a fucking way.” He leaned in closer, the cane pressing harder. I fidgeted, trying to catch my breath. “And I know something the feds don’t. That tonight hasn’t been your first run-in with John. They know you went to that stupid charity gala, but they have no clue what happened. Johnny can be handsy, can’t he? Especially when he finds out you’re workin’ a job on his turf.”

Stepping back, he finally removed the cane. I took a greedy breath of air. “Then you know that it’s going to be impossible. He hates me. And I would take him ignoring my personal space over this. He isn’t the one that has kidnapped me and tied me to a goddamn chair.”

Hurk laughed, with a shake of his head. “Not yet, he hasn’t. You think is bad, sweetheart? Oh, you’re not that smart, are you? Johnny would have you in the dark with knives digging into that pretty skin of yours, and he would be more than happy to do the honors. And he’s done it to men who have done less than what you’ve done already. People don’t get a second warning from the Seeds. You have, and I’m goin’ to use that.”

I rolled my eyes. “The fact is that I’m on some seriously thin ice with that man, and I won’t be able to get away with whatever it is you have planned. He won’t let me anywhere near that family.”

“You’re going to do this, and I don’t care what you have to do to do it. Become one of his coked-up buddies he keeps around, for all I fucking care. If you value your life, you’ll do this.”

Silence fell between us as I stared at the shiny floor. I weighed my options, not that I had many, and I couldn’t find a way to get out of this one. It just went from bad to worse in less than 24 hours, and I couldn’t believe the amount of trouble I had brought upon myself from going to one damn gala. Swallowing my pride was bitter, but I did it anyway. “Fine.” I bit out. “Whatever. I’ll help you steal the business and take the family down.”

A twist of guilt settled in the pit of my stomach as Hurk smiled. “Perfect! I’m so glad we could see eye to eye. I look forward to our business relationship, Blake.”

“And what do I get out of this?” I asked with a roll of my eyes.

“Hmm…well, how about you don’t go to prison? That you’ll get to leave Atlanta? I think that seems fair, don’t you?”

No. “Sure.” Not in the fucking slightest.

He gave a nod to his men. “Get her out of here. I’m done.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but only a strangled shout of surprise escaped at the black bag returned, blinding me once more.

 They had dragged me out of the damn house and thrown me into a van, fully restrained. I had no idea where we were going, but it wasn’t a smooth ride. It’s when we stop do they finally pull the damn bag off and cut my restraints. The bulky man grabbed me while the other slide the door open with more force than necessary, and the shoved me out before speeding away.

I hit the concrete hard, my palms and knees immediately getting scraped. I grunted in frustration as I sat on the sidewalk, yanking my heels off. My body was exhausted, muscles screaming at me with bruises forming on my leg. There were angry red lines on my wrists, complimenting the tattoos on my wrists. I wanted nothing more than a cigarette, and I cursed, realizing that they never returned the clutch purse I had. Anger swelled in me and I fought to keep the tears at bay. I had smoked more in the last few days than I had in months. I had quit, but the new stress was threatening to give me the habit again, and I was more than pissed that I couldn’t indulge in this moment.

Snatching my feels off the ground, I stood and walked into my apartment building. I longed for my bed, and I was set and determined to do absolutely nothing tomorrow. I could practically hear my ice cream calling for me.

The stairs were harder to take than they were this morning, and I hated every step I took with a fiery passion. This night, this whole day, had been nothing but a clusterfuck, and I didn’t know how all this shit could happen in 24 hours. Arrested, manhandled twice, threatening and being threatened, finding a new way to piss off the youngest Seed, being kidnapped, hit, blackmailed…what the fuck could happen next? I was done with the bullshit. I could put a smile on my face, figuratively, and agree to help Drubman so I could get the fuck out of there. I could off both parties while I made arrangements. I was getting the fuck out of dodge while I could, while I was still breathing.

Coming to the floor, it was like déjà vu. I froze seeing the door to my apartment wide open and dread settled heavily in the pit of my stomach. I rushed forward, my hands resting on the doorframe as I looked around.

The door had clearly been kicked in, the frame busted and a small dent in the cheap door. I swallowed as I took in the busted coffee table, torn up and flipped couch and chair. My TV was on and flickering, the screen cracked as the static filled the room. I stepped in cautiously, watching my bare feet so not to step in the broken glass of the table and some of my vases. Water, rocks, and flowers littered the floor. Down the hall, I could see my bed flipped on its side with the bedding ripped to shreds, the feathers from the comforter and pillows blanketing everything like freshly fallen snow.

The kitchen wasn’t spared, with cabinets thrown open, and broken glasses and plate along the counter tops and floor. My fridge and freezer were left ajar as food had been strewn, almost shoved, from its place. My face twisted and I clenched my fist at the site of melted ice cream on the tile. The wall against my counter bar held my busted landline and a note with my knives embedded in the wall to hang it. The same knives that was in my clutch.

I stepped forward and read the note, each line fueling my anger more and more. A threat, clear as day, from my most humble hosts this evening. My hand fell to my side as I look around hopelessly. It was a message within itself. The note was just a cherry on top. Whatever the Drubmans had planned, they were serious, and they wanted to make it clear. I did get some relief when I spotted my clutch on my small kitchen table, my cell phone falling out.

Grabbing it with shaking hands, I send a quick text, trying hard to focus on the keyboard. We need to meet asap. Tomorrow afternoon good?

I only waited a few more minutes before I received the confirmation text, and I fall to my knees, clinging the phone to my chest as I run my hand through my hair. The shaking becomes worse and I let out a sob as the tears break through. I can’t help the panic attack, there’s nothing for me cling to in order to keep me from the spiral. It’s a mixture of rage, helplessness, and stress. I didn’t ask for any of this. I wanted a better life, and I tried to stay in my lane the best I could, keeping my head down. And in less than a week, I had the threat of a rival crime family and the feds breathing down my neck. And worst of all, the potential of Dutch finding me was too close for comfort. Everything I had built, all the work I had done over the years, would come tumbling down around me. And I didn’t even have the chance to process of Rowan being alive. I needed to leave, get out of Atlanta as fast as I could, and never look back.

[quileutlove]

Prompt List

Random Prompts (From other blogs and internet), you can choose more than one for me to write.

“No no no, sorry! I just-... I honestly didn’t think you even knew my name.”

“For once, this isn’t actually my fault.”  

"There's a whole ass party outside and you two are in the kitchen doing this?" 

“They act like they hate you, dude.” / “No, they don’t?” He tilted his head. /  “They never smile at you or hold your hand or even kiss you! You would think they would at least break that cold exterior for their boyfriend!” /  “They don’t show their love that way.”

"Well, mistakes were made, I guess. Can we just move on, please?"

“Normally, I’d have pushed you out the door by now, but you’re making a compelling argument with the bribery.” 

“Wow. Here I thought we had a moment. I spilled my story to you and all you have to say is 'okay’? What does that even mean?!” 

“I’m not letting karma deal with this. I can’t trust it’ll be enough of a punishment, nor can I say it’d be fast enough.” 

“I can’t believe I’d ever fall in love with someone like you.” 

“I know I signed up for this and all, but... if I die, it's still your fault and I will not hold back on blaming you.” 

“Rules? Nope, not listening. I’m not following them. Never have, never will.”

“The more I love you, the more I hate you.” 

“I’m still way too sober for this.”

There is nothing like the feeling of waking up in the morning after thinking you wouldn’t make it through the night. 

“So from the bottom of my cold, dead heart, screw you.” 

“Are you always this prone to bad luck and violence? If so, that’s kind of sad.”

“Bruh, I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m a good person, but if you want to keep it. Leave now.” 

"I'm not going to ruin today by going to the hospital."

“Aw, look at you, using fancy words at me. You’ve certainly grown up, haven’t you?” 

“Am I a hero or the devil’s son? Can’t figure out what side I’m on.”

“Give me back my keys! I’m fine!”

“So that’s it? It’s over?” 

“You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and yet I don’t regret a moment of it.” 

“No pressure, honest. It’s not like the world is depending on you or anything.” 

“You’re so convinced that I’ll hurt them that you haven’t considered it’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

“I have fifty other excuses I could use. Do you want me to start alphabetically?”

“I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me.... am I?”  

“Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.”  

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”  

“Promise me you won't start any fights this time.” /“Fine, I promise I won't start any fights.” /“Thank you.” / “.....I will finish them though.”

“They can hear us.”

“When I let go, run for your life.”

.“Go. Go now and don’t look back.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I do... I do. I do love you!”

"I'm your problem now. Just accept it." 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?! Don’t you think I deserved to know?!” / “I did tell you, multiple times. You just didn’t want to believe me.” 

“There’s a vampire in the fridge.... Why is there a vampire in the fridge.” 

“I’m not scared of him!” / “... Admirable, but also foolish. You should be terrified of him.” They took a sip of their tea. “Fear is not the absence of courage.”

“Whilst I am very well aware that this was an incredibly poor decision, I also want you to be aware, that I very much, don’t care.” 

“Please stop trying to look for the good in me, you won't find it. I sold it at a flea market, back in ‘97.” 

“You’re taking this a lot better than I expected.” / “Honestly, I was imagining way worse.”

“Are you ok? You look just about ready to launch yourself across the room and beat them to death.” / “Trust me, it’s taking every inch of my control, not to.” 

“How did we even get dragged into this complete mess, anyway?” /“I believe that may have been my fault.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so intimidating before.” / “You should meet my mothers.” 

"never speak of this again" 

“...Did you really have to go that far?” / “Oh my dear, trust me, I wanted to go much much further.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

“You were supposed to be my friend. That’s all…that’s all I asked of you. To be my friend. To care.”

“I don’t…I’ve never…been in a relationship and I’m going to make mistakes…I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me.” 

“I want to believe, I do…I just…how can I believe in something that I can’t see?”

"don't come crying to me" 

"This sounds a lot like a marriage proposal." / "Maybe it is."

“Excuse me, but what the McFuck?” 

“I never thought I’d have to ask this, but am I being too subtle? Or are you just not interested?” 

“You’re right, I am a pacifist, but if you try to harm them ever again, I WILL kill you.... and I will enjoy it.” 

“This is probably a really weird question, especially since it’s like.... three am, but do you want to come over and make chocolate chip pancakes with me?” 

“I wanted to. I really wanted to tell you. I just–couldn't.”

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. You're Mr. Perfect. You're always right and never make any mistakes." / "Not everybody can be such a little Miss Sunshine all the goddam time!"  /"Yeah, well. I'm not like you. I'm not everybody's darling, dear." 

“Well, well, well. If I didn’t know you better, A, I might think you’ve actually started caring about them.” / “...I don’t care about anyone.” /“But B isn’t just anyone, are they?” 

“Do you really think that anyone is going to love a bad guy like you? You’re going to die alone, and no one will even care that you’re gone.” 

“That obnoxious self righteous bullshit, will not work on me, dear. I’m already very happily married.... And yes, before you ask... they know exactly what kind of things I do when they’re not around.” 

“If anything happens to them, I’m holding you personally responsible. Their blood will be on your hands.” / “You’re not the only one who cares about them! You think I ever expected this?!” / “You should’ve. If you ever loved them like I do, you should’ve never gotten them involved. If I lose them now because of you...Well, I don’t know what’s going to happen then. I genuinely don’t know what I’ll do. And that should terrify you.” 

“It’s going to be alright. You’re safe now. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” 

“Woah, are you ok?! What’s wrong?!”  / “Oh, nothing much. Just accidentally bound my soul to that of someone who should have been fictional, but somehow isn’t, and is now stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” / “....I’m sorry I asked.” 

“You really are dumb. I love you, but you're an idiot.” 

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” 

“I just want you to be safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you!”

“I want you to be happy…even if its not with me.”

“I want to feel like this forever.”

“You give me a reason to be better, to do better.”

“God, you are so fucking cute.” 

“I love you, but I need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and I have to pass this test tomorrow.” 

“I…I can’t do this without you.” 

“You weren’t there…why weren’t you there?” 

“I needed you! I needed you!” 

“Now it’s over…I don’t really know what to do.” 

“I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!” 

“Sometimes you love someone and you don’t want them to leave…because if they’re beside you, you can see that they’re safe and you can keep them safe. But, if they go somewhere without you…you might lose them,”

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just…I can’t imagine you not here.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Stop apologising for other people! You’re not the shitty one!” 

“Stop being a fucking dick.” 

“Can anyone else hear those Jumanji like drums? Or is it just me?” 

“I’m only important when you need something from me.” 

“I am fed up of half measures. I deserve better” 

“Don’t look at me! I’m a mess!” / “I love it when you’re a mess!” 

“I don’t think you’re annoying…I know…I don’t…I really enjoy listening to and hearing what you have to say even if it's a lot sometimes..” 

One reaching for the other's hand to comfort them, to provide support. A thumb brushing lightly against skin. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” 

“Go big or go home” / “I’m already home.” 

“I look at you and I…I feel so sad because I love you but I also have been hurt so many times that I don’t think I can forgive and forget.” 

“I didn’t take you for the settling down type.” 

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” / “I don’t want to ruin your party.” / “You could never ruin anything.” / “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” 

“Please don’t make me choose.” 

“I can finally understand why you call them your arch-nemesis…What. A. Dick.” 

“Could you come get me?” 

“I just thought that since you weren’t feeling too good, maybe this would help.” 

“I thought you said no more dangerous stunts?” 

“Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.” / “I apologise sincerely if my handsome/beautiful face has kept you awake all night.” 

“Would it help if I stayed?” 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“I’m here and I’m staying.” 

“You’re not exactly known for your great ideas.” 

“Can we talk about it?” 

“Go to hell.” 

“I think we’re done here.” 

“Oh, I don’t actually care.” 

“I have to let go.” 

“Can you keep a secret?” 

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

“How long have you been waiting?” 

“Can you stop talking for literally ten seconds?” 

“I am not about to let you leave that easily.” 

“Well, it’s not my fault.” 

“You’re breaking my heart.” 

“This definitely has the potential to be catastrophic.” 

“You still have that?” 

“I will not justify that with a response.” 

“Apparently I can’t have a single moment of rest.” 

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” 

“It’s not a competition.” 

“Keep talking.” 

“I hate being the only adult in the room.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Does this count as breaking and entering?” 

“pew, pew, motherfucker.” 

“slap my ass and call me a wizard, that was some freaky magic shit I just did.” / “is the ass slapping really necessary?” 

“I’m dying!” / “it’s just a fever, you’re okay.” 

“premarital hugs are against my religion.” / “but aren’t you an atheist?” 

“stop looking so grumpy, it’s lame.” 

“looking good,  * LAST NAME * ” / “we’ve been married for five years, how are we still on last name basis?” / “I was talking to myself.” 

“do you want my jacket?” 

“oh, you’re jealous!” 

“your hand looks heavy, can I hold it?” 

“is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” 

“I’m just so stressed, all the damn time.” 

“should you be drinking that much?” 

“you can’t fight if you’re dead!” 

“go to hell.” 

“this is all your fault.” 

“look at me, please, we can still fix this.” 

“it’s not working out. We’re not working out.” 

“mistakes are easily made in the moment. Apologies are not.” 

“if you touch her, I swear to god, I will kick your ass so hard that your vertebrae will pop out of your mouth like a pez dispenser.” 

“nightmares again?” 

“hey I know you’re hurting, but you’re not alone in this, okay?” 

“can I.  .  .  . can i just have a hug please?”

Series Quotes:

"Don't let what he wants eclipse what you need, he's very dreamy, but he's not the sun. You are." - Grey's Anatomy.

"Next time you see my face, show some respect." - The Sopranos.

"DNA doesn't make a family. Love does."-  The Fosters.

"Every song ends, but is that any reason not to enjoy the music." - One Tree Hill.

"If I die, turn my tweets in to a book." - Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

"Just have a little faith." - Prison Break.

"So pick me, choose me, love me." - Grey's Anatomy.

"Everybody lies." - House.

"Saving people, hunting things, the family business." - Supernatural.

  “God knows I couldn’t love them more, but even the Kennedys didn’t get together this often.” - Modern Family.

“I revealed too much too soon. I was emotionally slutty.” - Sex and the City.

“Either this kid has a lightbulb up his butt or his colon has a great idea.” - Scrubs.

“Once again I humiliate myself by assuming I’m a member of this family.” - The King of Queens.

“I want painful, difficult, devastating, life-changing, extraordinary love.” - Scandal.

“I’m not gonna ask you if you just said what I think you just said because I know it’s what you just said.” - The X-Files.

“Does Elena enjoy having both of you worship at her altar?” - The Vampire Diaries.

“More is lost by indecision than wrong decision.” - The Sopranos.

“Welcome to the real world. It sucks. You’re gonna love it!” - Friends. 

“All I understood was that she was the girl I sat up every night thinking about and when I’m with her I feel happy to be alive, like I can do anything, even talk to you like this. So that’s what I feel is love—when I’m better because she’s here.” - Boy Meets World.

“I don’t want to be happy; I want to be with you.” - Three’s Company. 

“ You can’t live your life according to maybes“- Orange is the new black.

"And what exactly do you think fairy tales are? They are a reminder that our lives will get better if we just hold on to hope. Your happy ending may not be what you expect, but that is what will make it so special." -  Once Upon a Time 

"It's always been you. I tried to fight it and I've tried to deny it. And I can't do it. I can't. You're undeniable." - The O.C. 

"People don’t write sonnets about being compatible, or novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation. The great loves are the crazy ones.” - Gossip Girl.

"Tragedy blows through your life like a tornado, uprooting everything. Creating chaos. You wait for the dust to settle and then you choose. You can live in the wreckage and pretend it's still the mansion you remember. Or you can crawl from the rubble and slowly rebuild." - Veronica Mars.

“He’s trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn’t like things because people tell you you’re supposed to.” - Stranger Things.

"Mourn the losses because they are many. But celebrate the victories, because they are few." - Queer as Folk.

“You spend your whole life looking for answers because you think the next answer would change something. Maybe make you a little less miserable. And you know that when you run out of questions you don’t just run out of answers. You run out of hope.” - House 

"What I’m saying is that I think, maybe, the best things, the richest things aren’t supposed to come easily, and that sometimes the moments that make the most sense happen when everything else doesn’t and, well, I think you deserve more than popcorn tonight." - Psych.

“Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you.” - Game of Thrones.

“And when you find yourself lost in the darkness and despair, remember it’s only in the black of night you see the stars.” - One Tree Hill.

[dxlansfxck]

BLOOD // WATER [G.D] † 01

Summary: Grayson Dolan, better known as “el diablo” – Los Angeles’ most known gang leader and drug lord – doesn’t usually think twice when it comes to killing someone that is dangerous for his business. One night, he meets this mysterious woman that out of nothing wants to start dancing in one of his DEVILISH-nightclubs. Once their heated relationship got more intense, he knew he’d be killing for her too – and realizes how handy she actually could be for him and the revenge he’s been longing for years.

Warnings: mentions of violence, sex work, stripping / pole dance, soft smut, gun use, blonde & tattooed Gray (it should be a warning bc it’s hot, lol)

Word Count: 14.5k

Saturday, 13th August 2016. 10:47 PM

Loud, obnoxious sounds were filling the crowded streets of Los Angeles, caused by a pack of luxurious cars racing down the 700 Main St, passing by tourists and locals that were trying to get to the annual beach party on Venice Beach. The leading car, a black Mercedes AMG CLA 45, came to an abrupt halt, all the other cars stopping right behind it. The tinted windows rolled down as one hand motioned the crew to take a turn on the left side, while the Mercedes went the other way, trying to find a free parking lot somewhere… inconspicuous. Not that this car wasn’t inconspicuous at all, Jalen chose the sleek black one instead of his bright green Corvette, but it wasn’t even his job to fulfill this task on his own. Usually, Grayson didn’t give him those kinds of jobs, knowing that Jalen could do better, but today, everything was different. They were so close to reach their goal; Jalen just had to make sure everything worked out as planned – so he decided to do it by himself.

Grabbing his sunglasses, he stepped out of the car in one swift motion, closing the door behind him while walking towards the more and more crowded beach where loud music was playing, and drunk people were either grinding on each other or fucking in the ocean. He scoffed at the exhilarating freedom those people must be savoring, knowing that by tomorrow, some of them wouldn’t be there to celebrate anymore. On the other hand, it wasn’t his fault that they chose the wrong side.

Jalen quickly pulled out his phone, texting Grayson that he was there and telling him to look after him if he wouldn’t call him within the next two hours. Then, he muted his phone, stuffing it back into the pockets of his worn-down jeans while putting on some random base cap he found in the trunk. Lighting a cigarette, he passed some couples that were in the middle of making out, not caring about them at all – he was looking for someone different.

The heavy weight of the Glock that was pushed into his underwear was something he was used to by now, even though he wasn’t one to use it on a regular basis. Like already said, he wasn’t the one to do that.  The diablo’s hierarchy was strict, no one could ever come even near the rank that Grayson Dolan had, that was for sure. But Jalen, he was a close second, maybe even qualified enough to be called the vice president. He was still out there in the streets, looking for his rookies sometimes, but most of his business was behind a desk, just like Grayson’s. Neither of them was the one to have blood on their hands, why else would they have hundreds of members following their instructions?

This time was different, though. Jalen couldn’t sleep over the fact that someone else could be the one to kill this motherfucker, the one that seduced his girlfriend, the one that had her pinned underneath his body when he was out there on a business meeting with Grayson. He found out rather quickly, he left no one he was close to without observation, but he couldn’t believe that the whore he used to think of as a loving girlfriend would ever dare to cheat on him with Kyle Houck. This edgy, wannabe tattooed bastard? Yeah, no chance that he’ll be surviving this night.

11:43 PM

The beach got more crowded as the time passed by, but Kyle Houck was yet nowhere to be found. Jalen has updated Grayson, talked to a few other gang members that were there as well, but neither of them has seen the target yet. Jalen grew nervous and impatient, wanting this night to be over as soon as possible to head back home where his younger sister was possibly waiting for him. Y/N never liked the thought of him being part of this gang, even though she didn’t know what exactly he was doing in there. But he loved his family, wanting them to be protected for the rest of their lives – and Grayson was one of the few people that could help him with that.

Sunday, 14th August 2016. 12:18 AM

A mob of teal hair passed Jalen’s field of vision, causing him to be more attentive than he’s already been, following the colorful head with his eyes, slowly walking after him without getting noticed by the dancing crowd. Sweaty bodies were pressed against his and Jalen couldn’t help but cringe at that, hating all those people but envying them at the same time. Their life was easy and fun, his on the other hand was full of risks and worries, weighing too heavy on his shoulders.

The gun he had checked multiple times by now was burning into his skin, ready to be used any moment from now, but Jalen had to wait, not wanting to cause a mass hysteria. Kyle walked further down the beach to a part where just a few random people were standing with red cups in their hands, probably talking somewhere quieter. Jalen acted as if he was concentrated on his phone. ‘Got him” was sent to Grayson before he raised his glance just to be found right across from Kyle motherfucking Houck. Jalen was quick to grab his weapon, but Kyle was faster – and smiled down at him. “Hello there”, he grinned while almost softly caressing his own gun.

“Houck”, Jalen spoke through gritted teeth, loading his gun while pointing it at his opponent. The tattooed man laughed at his reaction, angling his head. “What brings you to our side of the beach, Y/L/N? This is Angelo Vendicatore territory and it makes you”, he steps closer to him, “our prey.”

Just then, Jalen realized where he was, surrounded by AV members. “Fuck”, he hissed, reaching into his pockets with one hand to press the quick call button that was holding Grayson’s number while still looking at Kyle, but he was too late. Just as Jalen was about to make his only shot – a shot that had to be on point -, he heard a loud noise followed by the worst pain he had ever felt. His ears were ringing, and his body was on fire, a loud scream escaping his lips as he randomly shot his bullet into Kyle’s direction, not even hitting him in the process, before he fell to the ground with a loud groan. “Y/N”, was all he could say, not wanting to leave his sister yet, needing to see her finally get a man, build up a family, moving out of their parent’s house. He promised to take care of them, but he broke his promise. He broke his life goal. Laughs and applause was heard, but he couldn’t concentrate on that while feeling such pain. Jalen cried, not caring about it at all, his vision getting blurry and his breaths coming shorter than he’d like them to come. He felt so, so cold and he was hurt. Flashes enlightened somewhere in the corner of his eyes, knowing that someone must either film this scenario or at least take enough pictures to threaten Grayson with them.

By all goods, he just hoped Y/N would never be able to see them.

Y/N. With the thought of his sister, he closed his eyes one last time.

Late July, 2019

“Maybe you should go for it, Y/N. I know what they say about el diablo, but he never disrespects any of his girls – and you’ll be save around there. Jalen is dead, we can’t change that. It’s been over three years, you need to get your head back up, honey”, Zavi mumbles while scrolling through different web pages, looking for a better job opportunity than dancing in a night club. You sigh, pulling some of your thick braids in a knot. “I know that he’s dead, Zav, thanks for reminding me”, you shake your head, trying to get rid of the tears forming in your eyes. “But it’s el diablo, he’s known for killing people! What if I fall down the pole or anything like that? He fucking killed his twin brother’s fiancé because she was pregnant, and he wanted to get out of the gang!”

It was true, Grayson Dolan wasn’t known to be the nicest human being on earth, he killed many people – not that anything was proven by the police -, but people around the streets knew what he was able to do. He might not be the one to kill those people himself, but he for sure was the one that shoot the shot in this woman’s heart, enjoying the view of her falling to the ground, crying out her baby’s name while Ethan had to watch the entire time, not being able to move. Grayson’s men were holding him down, making him feel every bit of pain his fiancé had to feel, watching her life end while tears burnt his cheeks. Soon enough, her eyes showed no emotions anymore, her mouth hang open, but no sound came out, her heart stopped beating, still losing blood. And the baby never made its way into the daylight. At least, that’s what the rumors said.

Rumors said also, that Ethan killed himself right after that, others said that he managed to leave the gang, joining another one while promising to ruin Grayson Dolan’s life. But no one knows for sure what happened after that one special night. You didn’t know who exactly killed your brother, but you for sure knew that Ethan Grant Dolan was still alive, running the Angelo Vendicatore like his life depended on it. Yet, not many people have seen him ever since that night, leaving him to be as mysterious as you could imagine.

“Y/N, stop it! It’s your decision, I could totally talk to my boss if we have another spot left in the team, but you were the one that said working in a pet store isn’t going to pay your rent”, Zavi shakes her head while writing the number of the DEVILISH-nightclub down. “That’s the number I found online. Give them a call, maybe even just go there to introduce yourself, I don’t think Grayson Dolan himself will be the one to decide who’s going to work there or not. He’s probably too busy buying and selling drugs.” She shrugs her shoulders before standing up and pressing a kiss to her best friend’s cheek. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” You just sit there and nod, still thinking about Grayson Dolan, while Zavi was already on her way out of the small apartment.

You knew you were in desperate need for a job, your parents didn’t even bother sending you any money to pay the rent when they moved away over two years ago, leaving you in the city where your brother was buried, but not wanting to live there themselves anymore. You on the other hand couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, Los Angeles was the city you grew up in, so many memories you had in each and every street that you could never leave that town. It was the city of angels during the day, but the city of the devil in the night – the city of el diablo, the city of Grayson Dolan.

Letting out another sigh, you quickly type in the nightclub’s number in your phone, breathing in a few times before pressing the call button, letting it ring for a while, but nobody answered. “Seems like I need to go there on my own”, you huff before standing up, taking a deeper look into your wardrobe, searching for an outfit to wear while having a job interview at a night club as a stripper.

You, of course, didn’t know what to expect there, trying to be prepared for anything that could happen. Starting off with a shower, an intense shaving session and you even exfoliated your skin to make it extra smooth. “I should’ve gone to the waxing appointment with Zavi.” You muttered, annoyed at the amount of time you just spent shaving, knowing that by tomorrow you’d for sure be covered in stubble again.

Now onto the big decision: what was the best way to show off your body, but not looking like a whore? On the other hand, it was a strip club, you might need to show off more than you usually would. You were standing in front of your full body mirror, the opened wardrobe right next to it, clothes were shattered all around your feet, some on top of your bed, but you felt like neither of them fitted. Usually, you’d go out in oversized band shirts and leggings or high waisted jeans, completely fitting into the whole “grunge/arthoe”-aesthetic without even trying. You didn’t like to dress up, all your clothes were comfortable but still cool looking, completely fitting your tattooed body. If you’d ever dance for el diablo’s nightclub, you’d dance in an outfit you feel good in.

Around an hour later, you decided on wearing a black button up skirt that ended mid-thigh and was tight, hugging the curves of your butt perfectly, showing off what you’ve got. Usually, you’d combine that skirt with a jeans jacket and an oversized shirt, knotted above your stomach, but that just wasn’t sexy enough. Grayson Dolan had the most beautiful, exotic woman dancing for him, skinny girls with porcelain-like skin, completely different from your dark skin and tattooed, curvy body. Back in the days people would call you out different names, not realizing that your skin color didn’t make your personality. You are black, who cares? You couldn’t change that anyways – and you love your skin, love the way it makes your light green eyes pop out and how white your teeth looked even though you were literally running on coffee.

One problem you’ve always had with finding cute tops was that your boobs were too big to wear most of them. That’s why you always decided onto something loose, showing off your hips and butt instead of your cleavage, but you felt strong and confident tonight, deciding on wearing a leather harness-bralette with some fishnet long sleeve over it. You’d totally dig some fishnet tights as well, but wouldn’t want to overdo it just yet, needing to find a pair of shoes fitting to that outfit. For you, it was usually either a pair of Doc Martens or some sneakers, but for today you decided to go with your old Jeffrey Campbell heels, the ones you wanted to badly but never wore them because they were made out of black leather and covered in studs. Well, tonight was the night.

LA’s streets were still filled with people, even though it was around 11 PM now. You didn’t like going out there alone, walking the streets on your own without anyone to protect you – especially in that outfit. For your hair and makeup, you kept it quite simple: bold brows, eyeliner and mascara, some highlighter and lip gloss. But still, you were popping out in the nightlife, people were looking at you with confused looks on their faces, eyeing you up and down. Your tattoos were always something that society didn’t seem to accept, making it quite hard for you to find a job these days, but you would never even think about getting them removed, they were a bigger part of you than your actual self. Your arms were sleeved up, mandalas and dotwork covering your left arm while your right one was filled up with beautiful flowers. Medusa’s head was covering your lower stomach, disappearing in your underwear – where it for sure continues, the snakes winding up around your belly button.

But your favorite piece so far was the ox skull right under your boobs, its horns going up on the sides of your boobs, while a dagger was placed between them. Some smaller tattoos were splattered around your legs, some of them stick and poked by yourself or your brother, but you loved all of them equally. You made your body even more beautiful than it already was by putting your own art onto it.

It was quite a walk to the DEVILISH-nightclub, but once you started to hear music you already knew it wouldn’t be as far anymore. The loud bass was already accelerating your heartbeat, making your stomach jump in both fear and excitement, but you were still more than just nervous. Your feet stopped abruptly; it was your last chance to head back home now. The red and pink sign of the nightclub was so bright that you had to squint your eyes to read it, making sure you were in the right spot. DEVILISH. There it was. Either your future or your death, you couldn’t know by now. Biting your lip in anticipation and agitation, you decided to stay there for a while to watch people enter the club.

Not everyone could get inside, you got to realize that so far. Boys in a sweater and joggers? Nope. Girls without makeup or high heels? Nope. Any other person that looked wealthy and arrogant, maybe even dangerous? Sure, come on in.

That was probably one of your biggest problems: the audience, the clienté. Those people, who will be watching you move your ass on stage. Those people, who probably wouldn’t even think about shooting someone your skin color. It was dangerous, you knew that, but it was also your only chance to stay in Los Angeles. You take one more deep breath, straighten your posture as you walk towards the line, waiting until you were the one in front of the bouncer. He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to explain yourself while checking out your outfit.

“I want to…”, you cough, trying to control your shaky voice. “I want to dance for this club. My friend told me I could just come over to give you a sneak peak of what I’m able of?” The bouncer looked at you in confusion before speaking into his headset, unsure of what to do with the girl in front of him. You tried to resist the urge to bite on your bottom lip, not wanting to, first off: act like you’re weak and second: not wanting to smudge your gloss. His deep voice asks for your ID card, repeating your name, address and date of birth to the other person who probably must check your criminal past. Luckily, you had none that was written down by the police. With one last nod, he opened the curtain for you to walk through, wishing you good luck.

You were overwhelmed by everything that happened right now; your senses couldn’t even react to all the action around you. It didn’t smell like alcohol or sweat like most of the clubs you’ve been into, it actually smelt pretty nice; like a mixture of grapefruit, ginger and even coffee, maybe. Step for step, you dare to walk in further, carefully having an eye on the people that you passed on your way, one prettier than the other. Blonde goddesses, tall businessman, all dressed in Louis or Gucci. You looked down at your own outfit, frowning while doing so. It wasn’t anything expensive, nothing too daring and suddenly, you don’t feel as confident as you did a few minutes ago. You felt cheap, not worthy to dance in front of those people. As if they’d watch you, if they could enjoy a show by the other, prettier, more experienced dancers.

“Are you Y/N?”, a sudden voice tears you out of your thoughts, making you turn around with a quiet shriek. Right in front of you, there’s this woman and you could swear to god, she was the most attractive person you’ve ever seen. She was so tall, you had to tilt your head back to look her in the – bright blue, of course – eyes. She didn’t wear much make up, but she didn’t even need to. Her skin was flawless, her lashes long enough to just be coated by a simple layer of mascara and her lips, god her lips. They were covered in a nude gloss, looking so soft and plumb, you scolded yourself for always chewing on yours, which looked nothing like hers. “Yes, I am, ma’am. Y/N Y/L/N.”

The mysterious woman smiles down at you, offering you her perfectly manicured hand to shake. “I’m Lia, nice to meet you, honey. I got told you wanted to dance for us?” Her smile was still prominent, revealing two rows of beautiful teeth and two cute little dimples. You nod, still more than cowed by her appearance. “Don’t worry, love, our team is nice and loving, the girls will love you!”, Lia cheers while grabbing your hand and walking you to a huge door, typing in some code to open it, motioning for you to walk through it first. Somehow, you couldn’t help but grin at the hectic woman in front of you, nodding quickly while walking through the door with your head raised, making you look more self confident. Suddenly, you didn’t bother your outfit anymore, even though everyone else was dressed differently – it was your style, your dance and most importantly your body.

“You don’t need to be nervous, you won’t dance today, we just all need to get to know you first”, Lia smiles at you sympathetically while guiding you through the long hallway – the clubs music was nowhere to be heard anymore. “Currently, we’ve got 7 wonderful dancers, most of them are American, but we’ve got one beautiful Asian queen and a European goddess, we’d love to have someone like you in our team as well!” You cringed at her comment. ‘Someone like you’, what were you like? Were you different? Was it the tattoos or the color of your skin? “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean it like that!”, Lia cringes as well, trying to make the best out of the situation. “Don’t worry, it’s fine”, you mumble while looking around.

Just as if she was reading your mind, Lia points to another huge door. “There we are, it might be a bit confusing to walk through this long ass hallway, but Mister Dolan just wants us to be save from all those… people. You know, our clienté isn’t always the nicest, you’ve probably heard the story about our club and why it is called DEVILISH. But don’t worry, until now, nothing bad has ever happened, Gra- Mister Dolan just wants to know us in safety if something would happen.” You nod, waiting for Lia to enter the code to open the door, letting her step inside first this time.

“Okay, this is basically where we hang out before our show starts, we get ready in here, we eat in here and after the show, we could shower or take a bath in here as well. Mister Dolan offers each of us a room to sleep in whenever we need to make more customers, whenever we need a place to sleep or when we’re just too tired to head home, maybe having one too many drinks.” Lia smiles at the thought, she’s probably been sleeping here quite often. “He takes good care of us, Y/N, don’t listen to all those bad stories people tell about him. He has had a rough past, losing his brother like that, you know? I’m sorry for him”, she sighs before eyeing your outfit the second time this evening. “I love your skirt! And those shoes, god damned, I wanted to get them too, but I couldn’t figure out where to wear them. Well, by now I would know. Anyways, let’s find at least two of our lovely girls.” Lia starts walking through the different rooms, showing you the bathrooms with those luxurious bathtubs that made you think about the old one back in your apartment that you never used because you were kind of disgusted by how old and rusty it was. Usually, you’d just hop in the shower, scrub your body and jump out again before the cold water was actually hitting you. This seemed… nice.

Soon enough, you were introduced to a small Asian girl, also covered in tattoos, but a different style than yours. Hers were more comic book looking, some Ghibli figures dancing on her skin, some bright colorful ones, not fitting into your black and white scheme. “Oh my god, hi! I’m Yun Hee, but you can go for Yun, it’s easier and easier to remember, I guess. I’m glad we get another tatted bad bitch for our team!”, she hugs you, glitter spreading all over your body while you hesitantly wrap your arms around her as well. “I hope you’re going to make it, Mister Dolan is here tonight”, she whispers the last part into your ear, not looking at Lia, “He’s a sucker for his girls ass and can’t say no to a lap dance, especially when it comes to a girl with a body like yours.” Yun slapped your ass with a cheeky grin, watching as it bounces while you couldn’t hold in a small laughter. “I didn’t know I had to dance in front of him… I thought I’d just dance for you and you girls decide whether I’m in or not…”

Yun nodded with a knowing frown but got back to her cheerful self within seconds. “Anyways, I need to fix my make-up, I’m sure you’ll do fine! I’ll let Lia know to give you my number, tell me how it went then, okay?” Then, she was gone. And you? You were even more insecure, biting your lip in anticipation while looking around to find Lia. Instead, you stepped in front of the many full-length body mirrors, eyeing your outfit once more this evening, not sure if you want to do this anymore. You should’ve asked Yun about the costumers, the loan and Grayson Dolan.

“Y/N, there you are! Mister Dolan would like to see you perform, now. Don’t be nervous, I’m sure he’ll love you! I hope he does, good luck!”, with that, Lia pushes you through another door, leaving you alone in a dark room with dimmed lights, a little platform for you to stand on and a dark blue velour couch. You take in another deep breath, trying to calm down all your anxious thoughts before raising your head, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness.

And then you saw him. Erebus. El diablo. Grayson Dolan himself. Staring at him, you couldn’t move at all, hypnotized by his stunning looks, now understanding why he was named after the devil himself. He looked hot as hell.

“Hello, angel.” His deep chuckle brought you back from your trance, causing your breath to hitch slightly. You finally dared to really look at him, practically sucking in his appearance. His eyes even managed to sparkle in those lights, prominent eyebrows giving him that intimidating look and those, combined with his tight, chiseled jaw just left you like a shy little schoolgirl, dreaming of his attractive teacher. He tilted his head in amusement, raising one of those sharp brows at you. “Did something bite off your tongue? Or are you just so wet by just seeing me that you can’t move without dripping down your long thighs, baby?” Now it was your turn to raise your eyebrow, mocking his amused face while stepping towards him.

“Not the slightest, Mister Dolan. I came to dance for you and that’s what I’m going to do, yet I couldn’t get any preparation time. Is there any chance to change the lights and let me choose a song of my liking?” Your loose tongue causes his fists to clench, but he was somehow impressed, no girl would ever contradict him, especially none of those dancer girls. “Suit yourself, angel.” He crosses his arms while sliding back onto the couch with spread legs, making himself comfortable while taking a deeper look at your dark skin, covered in all those pieces of art. And that outfit, that no other of his girls would ever choose because it wasn’t as slutty, not as cliché. But on you, it looked amazing. You looked like a bad ass bitch – exactly what he was looking for these days. Mentally, he took a note on observing you the next couple weeks, minding something bigger for you already.

Soon enough, the lights turned a dark red, making you almost disappear as you slowly walked onto the platform as “DEVILISH” by Chase Atlantic started to fill the room.

SEVER OFF THE HEAD AND WATCH THE BODY FALL, SEE YOU IN THE DEPTHS, THAT AIN’T A METAPHOR.

SEX, BLOOD, FASHION DRIPPING HOLY WATER. HOLY SHIT, SHE WORSHIPPING MY DICK LIKE IT’S THE HOLY FATER.

As soon as the calming, yet rough voice fills your ears, you couldn’t help but slowly sway to the rhythm of the song you chose wisely – referring to Grayson, to his nightclub and his life. You’ve had lots of dancing experience, even took some pole dance classes, but dancing in front of the devil himself wasn’t something you could ever come prepared for. The beat started to get faster, making you run towards the pole and jump up on it, letting it turn you around multiple times with your head hanging low, bringing you closer to the floor with every rotation. Once your fingertips brushed past it, you let yourself fall until your back was hitting it as well, turning around to crawl onto the floor while opening your legs for him, humping the parquet twice.

TRIPLE THE SIX, I’M BLAMING YOUR GOD ‘CAUSE HE DON’T EXIST, I KEEP THE BEAT, ONLY TALK A FEW WEEKS THEN I CUT OFF YOUR WRISTS.

MEDICATION GOT MY HIGHER THAN HEAVEN BUT BRO I’M THE SHIT, BETTER FIX I SAVED FOR HADES, I’M POPPIN’ THE PILLS WHEN I’M SICK.

You didn’t dare to break the eye contact with the intimidating man in front of you, watching every of his reactions, trying to read his mind – but he was a professional in keeping his poker face up, not showing you any kind of emotion. Biting your lip in anticipation, you continue your dance routine, climbing back onto the pole until you were about to reach the ceiling, when you pushed your feet of the secureness, holding yourself up by just your arms while walking through the air, slowly circling around again. Then, just as the beat intensifies again, you press your back against the turning pole, crossing your feet over it while slowly tracing your silhouette with one of your hands. Your thick braids were flying through the air, your abs clenched, and you were slowly but sure getting out of breath, but you would never give up.

I ONLY EXIST TO FALL, HAPPENS LIKE THE GHOST OF GOD, I JUST WANT TO LET THEM GO. FEELING HOMESICK, FIRE UP THAT BLUNT, BITCH. SHUT UP.

DEVILISH, FUCKING WITH MY GUYS, YUH. I MAKE SACRIFICES, YOU MAKE LIES UP. HEAVEN LOST AN ANGEL WHEN I SIGNED UP, I MIGHT FUCK YOUR FRIEND, I MADE MY MIND UP.

Just as the music hits its peak, you pulled yourself up with your right hand, bringing your legs over your head in a split, spinning the pole even faster than before. Your legs were now above you, your head stretched away from the pole and hands working as wings, as you slow down a bit, winding around it like a snake. Taking a deep breath, knowing the next move must be perfect, you jump back up to the highest point, wrapping your legs around the pole as you let yourself hang from it like a bat, opening your arms while waiting for the next beat drop. Once it comes, you let yourself fall to the floor in a horrific pace, a move you usually just dared to show off when you were drunk. Just as your nose was about to hit the floor, you quickly let go of the pole with a somersault.

Grayson raised an eyebrow, impressed with your performance and shifting in his seat while waiting what’s next to come. You couldn’t hide a smirk while crawling towards him with swinging hips, enjoying the desirable glance he shoots towards you.

I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH. I’M DEVILISH, YUH.

Looking up at Grayson with a slightly innocent look, you climb up on his lap, debating whether to touch him or not. This man was out of your league, yet, you had to compel him, to seduce him like you would with any other man that was watching you perform. Without even thinking about it twice, you grab the collar of his dress shirt, playing with it while smiling down at him. You didn’t press your crotch against his – yet -, but you could feel his hips move to the beat as well, eyeing your entire body up and down

It wasn’t part of your choreography, but you bite your lip while placing his huge hands on your hips and pull off your fishnet shirt with them, wrapping it around his neck as if it was a scarf, giving him a view seconds to enjoy the view of your impressive cleavage. Then, you turn around quickly, pressing your back against his toned chest while using his hands again to roam your body, while wriggling around in his lap in a slow pace.

DEVILISH, SAY THE PART YOU LOVE ME, YUH. I DON’T WANNA TALK, JUST SAY THE PART YOU LOVE ME, YUH.

SETTLE DOWN, YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE ME DRIVE THE DEVIL OUT, YOU DON’T WANNA SEE MY DEMONS IN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE, YOU DON’T WANNA FACE DAMAGE IN YOUR MENTAL HOUSE.

Once the slow part was over and the beat dropped again, your let yourself fall right down onto his dick, earning a quiet gasp from Grayson, his hands tightening around your waist as you started to grind down on him, hands buried in his perfect styled hair. Just as his hands were about to travel further down your waist and you feel something starting to grow underneath you, you get out of his lap to dance around him while softly pressing down onto his shoulder. Once you were standing behind him, you let your nose brush against his neck, breathing in his heavy but delicious after shave, knowing that this man had to smell good. Your clothed tits were pressed against his shoulders as you gently bit down onto his earlobe, loving the way he twitched underneath you. Placing your hands on the couch upholstery, you lifted yourself up in a handstand above him, rolling down back onto his lap as the song finally comes to an end.

I TAKE DRUGS ON THE DAILY, I TAKE PITY ON THE PEOPLE WHO TRY TO SAVE ME, GOD DOESN’T EXIST AND EVEN IF HE COULD, OH BITCH YOU WOULD NEVER CATCH ME PRAYING.

Within seconds, you had your shirt back on and were standing in front of Grayson, raising an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say anything. He, on the other hand, keeps on looking at you, burning you with his stare. Just as you grew impatient, he opened his mouth. “Where have you been all my life, angel?” He stands up, walking right up to you while pressing his warm palm against your cheek, almost stroking you. “Definitely not here, Mister Dolan”, you chuckle as you stepped back once more. “Well, what is your opinion on me, Sir? Will I be able to dance for your clienté?” He hated the fact that you were running away from his touch, but he loved playing games, he loved a challenge.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N”, he chuckled in his intimidating deep voice, “I do think you’d fit in perfectly, but”, he stopped once more, just to build up some tension, “why would I let you dance for me, angel? What would you do to deserve your wings? How important is this job for you? Tell me your story.” He was way too interested in her to just let her go like this, no. He needed to know everything, needed to know if she was the one. The woman he was seeking for, the woman he needed to finish off his plans.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Mister Dolan, but I don’t think my past is important for you to hire me, isn’t it? All you need to know it that I’m available on the daily, I will dance for you, your friends and your… costumers. I don’t mind if it’s one man or twelve, I’d still be up for it if the payment is high enough. I’m not for free, you won’t be able to bring me down, I went through way too much to be ordered around by another gang member, even if it’s the leader this time. So, you could either hire me and make some money with my body – a body like no other of your girls has- or I could pay your sweet brother a visit to see what he thinks of my dancing skills. Because I for sure know what’s going on with you two, Mister Dolan. I’m sick of deciding which gang my family belongs to, you know?”, your walk towards him, showing him that you weren’t afraid of him. The thought of your brother, killed by the rival gang, made you feel powerful.

“I once chose my side, don’t let me regret it.” You lift the left side of your bra a bit up, showing off the devil tarot card that held Jalen’s name hidden on your ribcage, always near your heart. “I’m not an angel, nor am I as innocent as you might think, but I am willing to fight for my survival. I am willing to fight for my family, even though I might have lost an important member of it. So, I wouldn’t wait another second to team up with Ethan’s gang, because I don’t want to starve to death, but my brother was part of the diablo’s , I guessed it would be just the best to follow his footsteps.”

Grayson’s eyes widen in shock before he frowns, pulling you even closer to look at the healed tattoo – you had to have it for quite some time now, not seeing any fresh ink or crust to show some healing process. “How long?”, he mumbles while secretly checking out your other tattoos. You didn’t even have to think about it for a long time, always remembering the night you got the tattoo together with Jalen.

“About three years ago, when my brother got his tattoo, he made me get the same one – I didn’t know what it meant, though. I thought it was like a brother-sister thing to do, get matching tattoos and stuff. But once he…”, you cough to swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find your voice again, “But once he died, I quickly found out what that tattoo meant. He wanted me to be safe if something happens to him. I knew I never had some receptive ritual or something like that, but I already have the tattoo – wouldn’t it be a shame to get it covered by Gabriel?”

“It would be a total shame, princess. You deserve an angel on your skin, but not that one”, he walks around you, acting like he’s inspecting you, as if he hadn’t seen enough of you during your performance. “Who was your brother, darling? Must have been someone I know, otherwise he wouldn’t be that confident of me securing his little sister.” Well, you haven’t thought through that part of you actually telling Grayson who your brother was, not knowing which position he had in the gang or if Grayson even liked him. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to know what your brother did, whether it was a simple drug deal or being the cause of someone’s death. It doesn’t matter, just because of this gang shit, Jalen ended up being the death one.

“Jalen, Sir. Jalen Y/L/N..“, you mumbled while lowering your head, afraid of his reaction. “Jalen? Jalen had a sister?”, Grayson raised his eyebrows once more, balling his hands to tight fists. “I never knew about his family. Okay, listen to me, Y/N. You should’ve been searching for me a long time ago, Jalen didn’t die for no reason, you got me?” You just nodded; eyes wide in shock.

“Jalen was somewhat of my right hand, he helped me do… lots of things, I guess. But they know who he was, probably checked out his family as well, but nobody ever knew he had a sister.” Grayson paces through the room, the red light making him look even angrier than he already was. “Where are your parents?” Biting your lip, you quickly answered. “Gone, they moved away as soon as they found out about his death – but I couldn’t leave the city I grew up in, I’ve got too many memories here. And I want revenge.” Your voice sounded stronger than you felt in this moment, but Grayson looked at you with an impressed glance, nodding in agreement. “That’s what I wanted to hear, angel. Okay, here’s what I could give to you: a place to stay that’s absolutely safe, money or whatever you’ll need to keep living your life and I promise you: you’ll get your revenge. But I need you to do something as well, angel. Are you willing to do something for me in return?”

“Yes, Sir. But you don’t need to do all those things for me, I’d be fine with a somewhat good paid job. I don’t need a new place to live in…”, you suddenly grew nervous again, not knowing what he had up for you. “Really, I don’t want to bother you, Mister Dolan.” “Stop talking, would ya? As Jalens sister, I owe you more than you think. This man saved my life way too many times.” He shakes his head with a chuckle before continuing. “And don’t worry, my house has more than enough rooms, I wouldn’t even know you’re there. Anyways, I think you’d look quite good by my side, don’t you think? So, in return I want you to keep me company whenever I need to do important stuff. I want you to dress up pretty for me, lull my business partners and who knows, maybe you could be the one to finally ruin my brother. I know you’ve got your brothers blood in your veins as well. You’re a fighter, angel. Would you like to fight on my side?”

Grayson steps towards you, placing his hands on your waist as he whispers the last couple words against your lips, leaving you gasp in excitement. “You sure, Sir? I don’t know if I’d look that good by your side, I-“ “Oh angel, you don’t know how you’d look in Louis, in Gucci or even in Balenciaga? All those brands would be glad if you wore them, pretty girl. Where’s that skirt from, Forever 21? You deserve better.” His soothing words left you with goosebumps along your spine, making you shudder under his touch. “It’s actually H&M…”, you whispered, ashamed of your cheap outfit that probably hasn’t even cost half the price of his underwear. His fingertips were currently tracing your jawline while you were still thinking about his offer.

“What do you mean by living in your house, though? I mean… I do have my own apartment, there’s no need of me moving in with you. But I’d totally be fine with escorting you to your business meetings. And I wouldn’t say no to a nice dress. I came to dance, so that’s one thing I’d love to do for your club, Mister Dolan”, you giggled at the thought of something more expensive covering your body, knowing that Grayson wouldn’t be hesitating in buying you all the designers you loved. “I just offered you anything you could dream of, but you still want to dance in front of hungry men? What did I just got myself into”, he chuckled while nodding in agreement. “Fine, you can put on your show on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but on the other days, your body will me mine, angel. And about the living situation: we’ll be discussing that later, for now you can go home and think about everything. Tomorrow, you’ll be having a little shopping spree on your own, okay?” He hands you his credit card while grinning down at you. “Visit La Perla for me, darling. I bet you’d look great in salmon colored silk.” With that, he left you standing alone in that dimmed light, holding nothing but a black credit card in your hands – not knowing what to do with it.

 “So, you’re really telling me that he not only offered you a job, but also to live with him in his freaking mansion? And that you denied that?”, Zavi shakes her head at you, blowing nose through her nose in disapproval. The two of you were currently wandering through your local mall, searching for some nice stage outfits. Grayson’s credit card was burning holes through your wallet, but you denied on using it, not wanting to waste any of his money for something you’d earn your own money with. Just as you walked past a small store called La Perla, you smirked while pulling Zavi with you into it. “Y/N! This store is out of our price range, c’mon, even looking at those pieces will make me poor”, Zavi whined as you showed her Grayson’s credit card. “It’s on el diablo. Don’t worry, I guess he won’t even realize that some money is missing. He told me to spoil myself, so why not spoiling my best friend too?” You shrugged while looking through the different lingerie sets, some of them out of complete mesh, others of lace – which you absolutely adored, packing 4 sets into your basket, knowing they’d look stunning on your body. But one pair of silky lingerie caught your eye, salmon colored and absolutely wonderful, you didn’t even dare to touch it. Zavi didn’t even bother to put that one into your basket as well, grinning at you while showing off her teeth. “Make him greedy for you, girl. Try it on, I need to see it!” She shoved you into the dressing room, handing you your basket after putting some more lingerie in there.

You put on one after another set, actually feeling yourself and smiling into the mirror with such a confidence, you couldn’t help but step out to show Zavi your favorite set so far – the one that Grayson suggested. It pushed up your tits to their maximum without looking too fake, but those panties were a different level. They were short, revealing but sitting on your hips like they were meant to be there. You turned around, showing her the fabric that was hidden in between your cheeks, showing the roundness of them perfectly. “Fuck, Y/N you look so hot, you’re driving my pan sexual ass crazy”, Zavi moaned at the view you gave her. Just then, you saw a familiar silhouette passing the dressing rooms, making you chuckle. “Hey stranger, what do you think of it? Or would you like to enjoy a show later on?” You would’ve guessed it was Grayson, following you on your little trip to see if you were about to spend his last coin, but the person that was now standing in front of you definitely wasn’t Grayson. “Oh, that color suits you pretty well. But let me tell you, I bet baby blue suits your skin even better.” You stood there in shock, not being able to speak up while letting your eyes travel the person that looked so similar to Grayson that it couldn’t be a coincidence. “Oh, I’m sorry, what a shame to not introduce myself. I am Ethan”, he holds out his hand for you to shake and as soon as your smaller one touched his, you felt instant rage boiling up your skin. But instead, you smiled.

“Well, hello Ethan. I’m Y/N, always up for help when it comes to finding a new style. Is there anything specific you’d suggest for me?”

You instantly regret going out in your sweatpants and some tank top you found laying on your floor, your face was free of any make up, wishing you had at least put some effort in doing your eyebrows. It was a one time chance to meet Ethan Grant Dolan, talking to him without him knowing who you were. “Oh, for sure, pretty girl. I see, you already chose some lace, that’s always been a secret love of mine, I adore women in lace”, Ethan closes his eyes, imagining you stripping down in front of him, wearing nothing but those see-through lace panties.

“Yeah, I can totally imagine you in that set”, he pointed over to a cute baby blue set with flowery lace detailing. “Oh, Ethan, this is so pretty!”, you smiled at the set, putting it into your basket willingly. On the inside, you were rolling your eyes at him being that easy to compel. Shouldn’t he be crying over his dead wife? This Ethan wasn’t someone you expected him to be.

“Let me buy that for you, Y/N. It’s going to be my treat for you, hoping I’d be the one to see you wearing it one day.” “Oh, Ethan, I can’t accept that, this lingerie is way to expensive to let a stranger pay for me…”, you pouted while Zavi giggled.

“You like being a challenge, huh? I won’t be a stranger to you for long, baby”, he grabbed the lingerie to go and pay for it while you rolled your eyes as soon as he was out of your sight. “Such a fucking dumbass”, you huffed to your best friend. “As if I’d be in to fuck the guy that-“

“Here I am, babe.” Ethan hands you a little bag while smirking at you. “I put my number in there as well, I surely hope you’re giving me a call or at least some pictures to strengthen my opinion on you in lace.” He kisses your cheek before winking at Zavi one last time, disappearing into the crowd of people outside that store.

Later that night, when you finally unpacked all the clothes and make up you bought, you decided on enjoying a nice bath and some Sushi in the tub while listening to music. Sadly, your pampering night got interrupted by the annoying ring tone of your phone, the display showing some unknown number. “Hello?”, you asked while chewing on a big chunk of avocado maki, snorting at the amount of wasabi you put on that piece. “Angel.” Grayson’s soft voice made you almost drop your chopsticks into the water, choking on the Sushi. “Mister Dolan.” You tried to sound professional, but which professional would ever decide on eating maki in their bathtub? “How is my princess? I was hoping to see you tonight, there’s still some things we need to figure out. Are you free?” “I guess I am, Sir. When and where to you want to meet up?” Opening the drain, you stepped out of the tub while grabbing a towel from your heater, wrapping it around your body and looking for your body lotion.  

“I don’t mind coming over to your house, would you?” Grayson asked casually, causing you to sigh in relief. “I’d like that, Mister Dolan. Would mean I don’t need to get dressed nicely”, you giggled while walking towards your bedroom, looking through all those beautiful pieces of lingerie you got with his – and Ethan’s - credit card today. “Fine, I’ll be there soon, angel.”

Minutes have passed and you grew more and more nervous, debating whether to wear something nice or casual, whether to wear make up or not. Well, you chose the same pair of sweatpants from before combined with a basic tight black crop top, trying to look at least somewhat sexy. Not knowing what Grayson had on his mind, you just set your brows in place with some brow gel but didn’t waste time on foundation or mascara. Then, your doorbell interrupted your upcoming anxiety attack, leaving you with one more spritz of your perfume before rushing to open the door. And there he was, dressed quite casually, some lose dress pants combined with a simple black hoodie – but he managed to still look stunning. “Good evening, angel”, he grinned at you while shrugging his shoes off. “Can I come in?”

You just nod, still perplexed about how different he looked from yesterday, but you instantly felt so miserable standing next to him in your dirty joggers. “Sure.” Stepping aside, you allow him to come into your cozy little apartment. “Do you want anything to drink? To smoke?” Grayson shakes his head, but you decided to grab a beer just to calm your nerves.  “I don’t really have much space to sit, is the couch okay for you, Mister Dolan?”, you bit your lip in discomfort, you’ve never been ashamed about your living situation, but you knew he was used to something much better. “Everything’s fine, angel”, he places his hand on the small of your back while guiding you to your own living room. Once the two of you sat down, Grayson looked at you with such an intimidating look that gave you instant goosebumps.

“So, what I’ve been wanting to talk about was our contract stuff. I know you want to dance for me, but you know that I’ve got different plans for you, right? It wasn’t just a wish of mine to have you move in with me, Y/N. I want you to live by my side from now on, not just as my coworker, more like a… girlfriend. It is hard for me to do all the business meetings alone, to attend anything without someone by my side. The problem is, I can’t trust most people around here. I mean, I could choose any girl from the gang, but… most of them are manlier than I am”, Grayson chuckles while looking at you, “Would you be okay with that? Just keeping me company. You wouldn’t have to dance for all those men, you could be by my side, in my house and live your best life while doing one, two things for me. To be honest, I’ve got plans, most of them maybe not as easy as pole dancing. But I feel like I could trust you – I know that I can trust you, let alone because of Jalen. I owe you something, angel.”

Grayson el diablo Dolan wanted you not to only move in with him, but be some sort of his girlfriend? Shaking your head in shock, you chugged down most of your beer before starring at him in confusion. “Mister Dolan, I don’t understand...” “Grayson”, he interrupted you. “Huh?”, you raised an eyebrow at him, more confused than before. “My name’s Grayson, don’t always call me ‘Mister Dolan’ or ‘el diablo’ that’s kind of weird, you know?” You gulped but shrugged your shoulders.

“Fine, I don’t care what to call you, so Grayson it is. Okay, Grayson. Don’t you think there’s some kind of love needed to ask someone to be their girlfriend? Instead of just asking someone jobwise. I mean, I’m honored, but… I feel like this is so wrong. I’m not an escort or anything like that – and I barely know you. What I know is that you can be really, really dangerous, that you own more money than I could ever dream off and that you could probably pay prettier and more graceful woman to go out with you. I’m not the one to be in the spotlight, Gray”, the nickname slipped off your tongue so easily that you didn’t even bother to correct yourself, “I need to be the girl in the shadows, the mysterious one that dances a few times a week and that’s it. If I was the one by your side, everyone would know me. I’d be everyone’s target.” There it was, the side you didn’t want to show anyone that works – or owns – DEVILISH. Your insecure, anxious self.

But Grayson was fast to react, cupping your face with his large hands, suddenly a soft sparkle in his eyes. “Listen, Y/N. The moment I saw you, I knew that I had to have you. Before you even started to dance, I knew what kind of ride you were – the first girl ever to open her mouth and be not up into my ass like all the others. I’m usually not the type to ask for anything, you should know that. But let me phrase it properly: Will you, Y/N, be my girlfriend? Or will you at least be willing to get to know me better?” He smiled that smile that would melt thousand of hearts in seconds, but you were still frowning, not sure of this situation. “I am willing of getting to know you, Grayson”, you bite your lip while nodding shyly, “But I still want to dance, you know that. I want to get paid the way you pay all your dancers, no benefits, okay? Dancing will be my job, we’ll see about the rest – that will start only in our private time, okay? You can invite me to dinner, I love sushi. Tomorrow, 7PM?” Out of nowhere, you got your confidence back, grinning at the man in front of you. Grayson couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve got myself a feisty one, huh? But fine, sushi it is. Wear something nice, though, I may or may not want to take you to another club afterwards”, he winks at you before standing up, looking down at you. “Mind escorting me to the door?” You nod, getting up as well and throwing your braids into a knot, relaxing your neck while doing so. “Oh, by the way. I met the other Dolan twin today. It was quite… interesting, I’d say. He even bought me those”, you giggled while lowering the waist band of your joggers, revealing some of the baby blue lace Ethan bought you earlier that day. “That dumbass even gave me his number, wanting me to send some pics in those.” You rolled your eyes, huffing at the thought of this greasy guy.

Grayson’s eyes widen at your confession, sitting back down on the couch in disbelief. “You met Ethan? And you didn’t tell me earlier? What did he say? What did he do? Does he know who you are? Oh, no, he couldn’t know. Are you going to call him?” “Grayson calm down! He was so weird, acting all flirty and stuff. I mean, I tried to flirt back, but I couldn’t because I kept thinking of Jalen. I still kept his number, though. What do you think?” You sat down next to him, popping your legs on the couch table while looking at the bill that kept Ethan’s number on it. Grayson scratched his beard, thinking about all those possibilities to ruin his brother.

“Tease him, send him pictures, try to get in his pants, I guess. But that would mean you couldn’t be the girl by my side… Mh. Fuck, Y/N that’s one of the best chances I’ve ever got. Okay, wait. Let’s do it like that: we’re still going out, doing all that official business stuff but you keep on hitting on Ethan, trying to convince him that you hate me with all your guts but you’re still with me because of my money, how’s that?”

You scrunched your nose at his idea, shaking your head no. “I’m not the type of girl to do that, Gray. It would be too obvious to be with both of you, don’t you think? I mean, Ethan doesn’t seem that dumb. But, I may or may not have a friend that he flirted to as well. I think she’d be up for it. She loves a challenge – and a good dick to ride on. How’s that? I just slip Zavi Ethan’s number, telling her to send some lingerie pics to him, trying to drive him crazy. And once he’s far up her ass, we’re destroying him and his business.” You raised an eyebrow, giving Grayson an asking look while typing Ethan’s number into your phone, sending Zavi the contact.

“Girl, I love you, I can officially say that. You’re a genius! But I got to say”, he eyes you from head to toe, smirking while doing so, “I think I’d still prefer salmon colored lace or silk on your body. Was your shopping day successful, angel?” You nod with a wide smile, thinking about all those luxurious lingerie sets that were ready to wear in your closet. “Yeah, it was wonderful. I was quite surprised though, I look fine as hell in salmon.” Grayson groaned quietly, nodding his head. “I bet you do, angel. I bet you do. I can’t wait to see it, mind to give me a show? I mean, I paid for it”, he winked at you, making you pout. “But I wanted to wear them for my first dance.”

“Dance for me, then.” Grayson kept his eyes on you, a soft smirk still plastered onto his beautiful lips while you stand up, basically running into your room to change into a nicer outfit. If Grayson wanted a show, he’s totally going to get one. Stripping out of your nasty clothes, you quickly slipped into your new lingerie set after removing the tags on them, turning around in front of your mirror with a proud smile on your lips. Salmon truly looked amazing on you, Grayson was right. You didn’t have a pole montaged into your living room, so you need to improvise in that, probably going for a lap dance or a striptease. One of your new favorite pieces you just bought today was a skin-tight dress made from black faux leather, hugging and stretching around your curves. It had so much cleavage, that you were unsure if your boobs were about to fall out during your dance, but they’d see them anyways – who cares? The back was something different, though. It was held by many straps, covered in rivets, giving it some sort of grunge vibe. To that, you’d usually wear some of your combat boots or over knees, but since you were at home anyways, you went barefoot.

Once you came back into the living room, you saw Grayson on his phone, probably checking up with his gang mates or whatever an important gang leader must do in his free time. Little did you know was that he already booked your dinner at this really fancy sushi place. You walk up to him, coughing quietly. “What’s your favorite song, Gray? What would you like to see me dance to?” You ask while standing in between his legs, caressing his thighs with your thumbs. Grayson lays his head back to take your appearance in, sighing at the view of your hips in that tight ass dress. “Fuck, angel”, he moans while gripping onto your love handles. “You could dance to anything and nothing, I wouldn’t mind at all. Look at you, girl.” He pulls you down onto his lap, smoothing out your braids over your back. “The worst thing is, I kind of know what’s underneath, but I haven’t seen it. So, what about me just ripping off that beautiful dress?”

You shake your head in amusement, standing up again before connecting your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, choosing ‘American Money’ by BØRNS. As soon as the soft bass starts, you sway your hips in front of Grayson, but he just shakes his head, pulling you back onto his lap while holding your chin between his fingers. “I can’t watch you just dance for now, babygirl”, his nose traces your jawline, inhaling your flowery scent with another groan while his hands explore your body. “I need to see you, need to taste you”, he mutters with closed eyes – leaving you almost paralyzed. His fingertips were melting into you skin, while his body was practically molding against yours, leaving no free space for anything. Opening his eyes again, Grayson traces the thin straps of your dress, biting his lip. “This makes you look so naughty, angel. Doesn’t it?” You nod, seeking for more than just his fingertips on your body, aching for his rough touch. “Grayson, please”, you mewl, rolling your lips between your teeth and looking down at him. “Please what, baby? Please, stop?” He grins, waiting for your answer. “No! Please, continue. Please, touch me. Please, remove this fucking dress”, you squirm around in his lap, searching for at least some friction.

“But, Y/N, I thought I came just to talk?”, he removes his hand from your collarbones, smiling innocently at you. Your blood was boiling, not wanting to waste any chance of getting Grayson into your bed. “Yeah, you did, but now I want you to fuck me, Mister Dolan.” Grayson loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, but he loved the sparkle you had in your eyes even more. “What was that, doll?” He needed to hear it once more, needed to hear her begging for more. “I want you to touch me, Gray.” Raising an eyebrow, Grayson gently rubs her back, her hair and her shoulders. “Like this?” You shake your head, whining in impatience. “No, you idiot. I want your hands here”, you place his large hands over your tits, helping him to squeeze them while grinding down on his slowly hardening dick, “while I need your tongue down there.”

His hands were fast to move to the bottom of her dress, rolling it up and revealing the fantastic set of lace that she bought just for him. Grayson breathed out through his opened lips, not believing what he was seeing. “Fuck, I fucking told you”, he emphasizes while quickly laying you down onto the couch, hovering over you with lust filled eyes. His fingers move to the already damp fabric, slowly tracing those flowers out of lace. Squirming, you were the one to remove your dress completely, enjoying his stare with a wide grin. “Look at what you bought, Mister Dolan. Don’t I look pretty for you?” “You look amazing, babygirl. You look like the queen you deserve to be”, Grayson breathes out as he picked you up, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Just as you were about to tell him, Grayson’s phone began to ring, causing him to set you back onto the floor, picking up his phone with a groan. “What?”, he snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose, shooting you a sorry smile which you just shrugged off as you took another sip of your beer to calm your nerves down. You were really about to go there, even though you know nothing about this man besides that he’s fucking dangerous. On the other hand, he could give you anything you wanted, he could make your life hundred times better than it was by now. He had the opportunities – you didn’t. And by now, he was nothing but nice to you, as if he really wanted you by his side. “Taehyung, I already told you not to go that far all by yourself! I swear to god, if you get hurt, I’ll fucking shoot you!” Grayson’s loud voice dragged you out of your thoughts, making you look into his direction in confusion. He quickly mouthed a ‘sorry’ combined with an apologetic grin before continuing to talk. “Just take care, man. Alright, good luck, I’ll be there soon.”

You laughed as soon as Grayson had shoved his phone back into his pockets. “Don’t your own men listen to you, Mister Dolan? Where’s the authority?” Grayson laughed along with you. “Taehyung isn’t one of my… men. He’s most likely my best friend that wants to save my ass more often than I could save his. Speaking of, I need to head over to him before he ends up in the hospital once more.” He presses one soft kiss onto your blushing cheeks before walking towards the door. “I’m sure you’d like him too, but I need you to get to like me first! Tomorrow, 7 PM!”, he shouts before leaving into the dark night, doing whatever he needed to do.

Once your clock hit 6 PM, your nerves started to go wild again. You were pacing around your flat, trying to clean up even though you just spent an entire day cleaning just to calm down. Of course, you were already dressed and did your make up, but you’ve been changing your dress at least 5 times, drew your eyebrows on twice and couldn’t decide for the perfect lip gloss for another solid 15 minutes. Grayson stressed you out, even though your “date” hasn’t even started yet. You spent the entire night thinking about what he had said to you, about the girlfriend thing and living with him, but you were still unsure. He has been nice to you two times, but you didn’t know him, didn’t know what he does in his “job” and you didn’t know if he would be loyal or if all of this would be just for the outer world. All you knew about him was that he was fucking powerful – and that scared you.

At 6.54 PM, Grayson texted you to come outside, so you quickly applied one more layer of lip gloss before slipping into your heels and heading out. Gasping, you couldn’t help but adore the car he was standing in front of: a dark grey Corvette Z06, one of your most favorite cars in the entire world. “Fuck, Grayson”, you basically moaned, walking towards the car, touching it with sparkling eyes. “Hello to you too, angel”, Grayson laughed before pulling you into his arms softly, pressing a kiss to both your cheeks. “I see you like my car for the night?” You not quickly, smiling at him. “Can I drive?” Grayson’s chest moved against your head as he chuckled, looking at you in amusement. “Not tonight, this is one of my favorite cars, I wouldn’t even trust Tae to drive it. C’mon get in!” He guided you to the passenger’s side, opening the door for you and watched you get in before closing it, running over to his side. Once he started the motor, you couldn’t contain your envy. “I will be your girlfriend if I can drive this car. The interior is even better, this car is pure sex.” “Keep on talking angel and we won’t make it to the restaurant”, Grayson glanced at you while maneuvering the car through the traffic, soft beats coming out of the speakers while Los Angeles’ skyline passed your windows.

“It is so beautiful at night, yet so dangerous”, you mutter with a sad expression on your face, thinking about the night you heard about Jalen’s death. “It is, but who am I to judge?”, Grayson answers, leaving the car in silence again. He was right, you thought. If his and his brother wouldn’t be in those gangs, your brother would probably still be alive. Grayson breaks the comfortable silence shortly after, announcing that you arrived at the sushi place.

“Urasawa? Grayson, this is literally the most expensive place. Believe me, I’m fine with ‘Roll Roll Roll’, really. No need to spent hundreds of dollars for some raw fish…”, you mumbled as you gawked at the luxurious restaurant, but Grayson ignored you, opening your door and holding out his arm for you to hold on to. Sighing, you stepped out of the comfortable car, grabbing Grayson’s muscular biceps as you walked in together. One of the waitresses came up to you, showing you your booth as soon as Grayson mentioned his name, leaving you two in the most private area after taking your orders.

“So, Y/N, why don’t you tell me something about yourself? Did you go to university?”, Grayson asked as he took a sip of his water. You played with the water droplets that were running down your own glass, shaking your head. “No. I was about to go to university, but then Jalen died, I needed to help my parents pay for his funeral. Then, I fell in some kind of black hole, couldn’t handle my own feelings and decided to take some time off. Well, I never applied after that, working here and there to pay my rent. College wasn’t a topic for me ever since. By now, I’m too old to attempt, I guess. Did you?” Not wanting to talk about you all night, you decided to ask him some questions too, wanting to know everything about him and his life. Grayson nodded.

“I did, but only two years, never finished because… well, the gang happened. Ethan and I were both going to UCLA, I studied law and forensic studies, while Ethan went for art and humanities – even though our dad wanted us to study architecture. But then, things got weird and difficult with us, so we stopped and went our own ways, you probably know the story”, Grayson shrugged as the waitress brought your food. You smiled at her as she placed the plate in front of you, Grayson didn’t even look at her. Once she was gone, you tried to get him talking more. “What happened between Ethan and you? I know what the street says, but I want your story.” “You should eat, Y/N. We can talk about this another time.”

The rest of the dinner went on with some small talk, but you learned quite some things about Grayson. He loved wasabi, even ate it without pieces of sushi. He didn’t do drugs, even though he was one of the biggest drug lords out there – he hated people that bought from him, but he makes his money with him, so who would he be to decline that? His mother and his sister are still in contact with Ethan, but not him. His dad passed away because of cancer, which caused him to donate around a million Dollars to a children’s hospice. You frowned, feeling bad for him and his loss, but also admiring him for his strength to still lead that empire on his own – starting to hate Ethan more and more. “Don’t worry, I’m fine by now. Learned to hold my head higher than they do. I don’t get called el diablo for nothing”, Grayson winked at you while eating his last piece of sushi, making you giggle, but also smile in admiration. “What is your favorite childhood memory?” You asked while continuing to eat, curious if he’d tell you something about his past. Grayson remained quiet, obviously thinking about it before answering. “Probably something with my dad. Whenever Ethan was sick, dad and I would go out and do things on our own. It was fun, almost like I was an only child, not having to share experiences with my twin, you know? Full attention on me. Not having to share dad or mom, something like that”, he shrugs. Nodding, you finished your sushi as well, laying back in your chair to relax your stomach. “I’m so full”, you groaned with an exhausted laugh, Grayson joining in. “You ate more than I expected, not that it’s a bad thing. Usually the girl I take on business meetings with me just eat some appetizers. I must’ve looked like Son Goku next to them, eating all the time.” Smiling, the two of you kept having a comfortable conversation, getting to know each other better and better, leaving you with the thought that Grayson wasn’t a monster at all.

Days have passed, conversations were shared, and memories already made. By now, you knew that Grayson wasn’t the tough man he pretends to be, you found his soft spot, even though you’ve been now living with him for little less than a month. You decided the day after your date night, that Grayson was right: you two were meant to be. All your worries were for nothing, Grayson cared about you as much as you learned to care about him. Including staying up the entire night whenever he didn’t come home, cleaning his wounds whenever he got into a fight and helping him with any paperwork that was bothering him. A smile stole its way onto your lips as you thought about your argument during your second week of living with him.

You just got into the car with Grayson, glitter covering your body, barefoot and an exhausted look on your face. “You tired, angel?”, Grayson hold your hand while driving, caressing it with his thumb. “Mh, yeah”, you yawn, head pressed against the window, about to close your eyes. He looked over at you, smiling, while he realized something on your exposed neck. His grip got tighter; eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that on your neck?” “Hmm?” “Is that a hickey, Y/N?” Turning your head in confusion, you rolled your eyes at him. “Probably something you did last night, babe.” Grayson shook his head. “I didn’t, this time. What happened during that privat dance? I told you not to make out with any of your costumers!” You shot him a glance that could kill – if Grayson wasn’t already used to your stubborn head. “Thank you for calling them ‘costumers’ as if I was some slut fucking for payment. I dance, Grayson. I don’t even strip that often, remember? You should, because you’re always there when I’m on stage. That private dance was just me on the pole, I didn’t even give him a lap dance, I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it definitely isn’t a hickey.” Rolling your eyes, you laid your head back again, huffing at his assumptions. Soon enough, Grayson’s finger was tracing your neck, touching the ‘hickey’ – and realizing that it stuck to his fingers. “Ew”, he said, looking at his index finger, causing you to break out in a massive laughter. “That, my dear, is lipstick. My own lipstick, to be exact.”

That night, Grayson ended up showing you who you really belong to – him, no one else.

That night, you stopped dancing for clienté, leaving Grayson to be the only one to enjoy your hips swinging to slow music.

That night, you fell in love with Grayson, because you realized he actually cared for you.

Smiling, you looked down at your intertwined fingers, gently squeezing Grayson’s hand as the two of you walked towards the empty beach, large cones with ice cream in your hands. “I’m glad this part of town is mine, I wouldn’t know what to do without Marco’s ice cream”, Grayson confesses while happily licking at his lemon ice cream. You nod, stuffing your face with the mixture of hazelnut and melon you chose, leaving Grayson cringing. “I don’t get your taste.” “I can never eat just milk ice cream, but just fruity ice cream is boring either. So, the only logical thing to do is just pick one of each”, you shrug as you bite into your cone. “Never liked that though”, you hand him the waffle as soon as every drop of ice cream was in your mouth. Grayson takes it, basically eating it in one piece, speaking as he was still chewing. “How can someone not like the waffle?” You shrugged, nudging his side and you started to run down the street, enjoying the wind in your hair, laughing as Grayson started to sprint towards you, trying to run faster than him. “I don’t need a girl that’s fitter than I am, Y/N!”, he laughs as he finally catches you, pulling you closer to him and pressing a soft peck onto your nose. Then, he wraps one of his arms around you, hugging you from the side while walking towards the soft breeze of Venice Beach. “Haven’t been here since… you know”, you whispered as you slowed down, terrified and anxious about your feelings. Were you ready to get confronted with that? “It took me a while to come back too. But I want to show you something. Jalen once told me how he imagined some nice guy taking you here, walking with you on the beach, enjoying the comfortable silence. Are you okay with me being that nice guy tonight? Fuck it, not just tonight. Always.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, allowing you to just nod. “Just… don’t leave me there, be by my side, okay? I don’t think I could handle it all by myself.” Grayson’s eyes got soft immediately, his fingers playing with the braids that fell over your shoulder. “You’ll never be alone again, Y/N. I promise you that.” Then, he guided you towards the water, lacing your fingers with his and pulling you closer to his side. Soft rustling noises were heard from the ocean, even some seagulls were still flying around, chirping above your heads. “Should we sit down here?”, Grayson quietly interrupts your thoughts, pointing to a clean spot in the sand. Once you nodded, he pulled you in between his legs, sitting down with you against his chest. “I’ve never done that with a girl, romantic stuff.” “Really? Not even in high school?” “No. It is difficult to date when your brother is always the one who gets the girls. I was always their second choice whenever Ethan didn’t want them. So, I preferred staying single instead of being just the Ethan lookalike. But let’s not talk about that, let’s make it to a moment you will ever remember and a night that you will never forget.”

And well, you did.

Grayson pulled you towards the water, the two of you only in underwear, deciding to go for a midnight swim. “Gray, please tell me nobody will see us”, you asked in worry, but Grayson just shook his head. “I promise you, baby. No one comes ever to this part of the beach, it’s el diablo territory – and I told my guys that we would be here tonight. But if you don’t want to…” “No! I want it, but… not in my underwear”, you grinned at him while slowly unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto the ground where all your other clothes were neatly folded, your slip soon following. “C’mon, baby.” You ran into the cold water, yelping at the feeling, but laughing as soon as you realized you were back in your element, letting yourself fall under the surface. Grayson laughed, enjoying your carefree side – and the view – before he stepped out of his boxers and ran towards you, embracing your naked body with his own, warming you up and engulfing you in comfort. Your skin was glistering from all those water droplets reflecting the moonlight, you were stunning, like Selene herself. Grayson’s personal goddess of the moon, of the night – and of his life.

Grayson on the other hand looked like a mixture of Hades and Nyx – if she was a man -, fitting perfectly into the night, shining under the starry sky. His broad shoulders broke the soft waves on the water surface, his strong arms holding you up against him. “You’re so beautiful, angel”, he whispered as he admired your simple beauty. You smiled at him, tracing his tattoos with your fingertips. “You’re a piece of art. I love every single one of your tattoos”, you hum. “I… love you.” There you said it, looking at Grayson with wide eyes, just like a shy deer, scared of his reaction. Grayson’s face softens immediately, mouth hanging open before it cracks into a smile, pressing soft little kisses around your mouth. “I love you too, angel. I never thought I’d say that, but I love you. I love you. I love you.” His hands were everywhere, showing how much he loved every part of you, starting from your face down to your neck, your arms, your fingertips, going back up again to caress the curves of your breasts, your hips and your butt before he grabs your legs to wrap around his waist.

You didn’t even break eye contact once, not as he touched your nipples, nor as he slowly enters you. Both of your lips were parted, chests pressed against each other’s as you moved gently against Grayson, soft hums leaving both of your mouths as the water around you started to move with your actions. “Grayson”, you whimper as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his teeth teasing the sensitive skin. “I’m here, baby.” His soft thrusts grew unsteadied, whimpers turning into moans as Grayson hits the right spot each time. Again, you couldn’t believe that this tough, almost criminal man was so soft when it comes to you. You tilt your head back, looking up to the stars and start to ask yourself how you out of all people deserved to get this man. “I love you, Gray”, you moaned out as you clenched around him, your orgasm coming in stronger than the waves around you. “Fuck, angel, I love you.” With that, Grayson came too but remained inside you while you shared this intimate moment, soft kisses and many whispered promises, before you eventually went in for another round.

[demaury]

You and me both (1/2)

Lucas gives him a look. He doesn’t want to say it aloud, and he doesn’t think he needs to either. There are, in fact, a whole bunch of reasons why the Demaurys could decide on not liking him, the most obvious involving weed, a houseboat and their son running naked in the streets.

OR; Lucas meets Eliott's family for the first time and spends his first family weekend in ages. (ao3 link)

SAMEDI, 9:45

“What if they don’t like me?”, Lucas blurts out on their way to the Gare-de-Lyon, and he automatically wants to crush his face against the closest newsstand.

There’s a fine line between being insecure as fuck and being the whiny mess that always complains about it, and most days, Lucas is able to swallow it down until it’s just a churn in the pit of his stomach. Keywords being, ‘most days’.

Eliott spares him a glance, discarding his phone for a while. His grey eyes narrow as his body shifts towards him. “Why on Earth wouldn’t they like you?”

Lucas gives him a look. He doesn’t want to say it aloud, and he doesn’t think he needs to either. There are, in fact, a whole bunch of reasons why the Demaurys could decide on not liking him, the most obvious involving weed, a houseboat and their son running naked in the streets. Thing is, he knows that introducing him to his parents has been on Eliott’s mind for a while now, and- well, they’ve been together for a couple of months now, so it’s only logical for them to take that next step. Except that logic has nothing to do with one’s goddamn insecurities — that’s precisely why they can’t be treated with paracetamol and a gulp of water.

Eliott lets out a small sigh, and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his long arms around his shoulders and resting his chin on top of his head. “I know it’s hard but one day you’ll realize that people not liking you isn’t a default mode.”

Lucas snorts, but right now his face is pressed against Eliott’s collarbones and every single one of his senses is overwhelmed by a wave of Eliott. Thank God no one they know is around, or they’d never let him get away with that — the last time Eliott mentioned that Lucas started crying at the bus stop, everyone became extra obnoxious about it and making stupid jokes about him being a duckling or a baby koala, depending on the day.

“C’mon,” Eliott says, freeing him from the embrace, but cupping his face long enough to peck him on the lips, “time to go.”

Eliott picks up the Adidas travel bag he had set down at his feet, when they had first stopped to check on the time and their platform (seconds before Lucas opened his stupid mouth and made a fool of himself), and reaches to grab his hand. Lucas finds himself smiling, a bit shyly, as they start striding through the crowd. They don’t really hold hands that often, generally Eliott flings an arm around his shoulders and they roll with it, but there’s something both extremely intimate and casual about his boyfriend tangling their fingers together — something that makes him feel warm and protected.

The Gare-de-Lyon is packed with people taking off for the weekend, but they manage to make it on time, and to find a compartment that is as close from quiet as they can hope for. They’ve been sitting for five minutes when Eliott flips his sketchbook open and starts drawing, while Lucas fishes in his backpack to find his earbuds and play some music. Their train ride to Reims isn’t long, about two hours, and in the meantime, Lucas makes a point of remembering the things he knows about the Demaurys without freaking out at the thought of them being, technically, his in-laws — there’s something so adult and mature in these tiny words that make Lucas want to remind everyone he’s just 17.

The family had lived in Paris for most of Eliott’s life, but his father, who had been teaching History at the University of Reims for over a decade, suggested that the family moved there after Eliott had failed to take the BAC. “They thought a change of scenery would be ‘good for me’,” Eliott had explained once, mimicking the quotation marks, then he added: “They had just found out what was wrong with me, so of course after that they wanted to baby-proof everything. We stayed in Reims for the whole summer, Lucille was gone for a family trip abroad, my friends rather wanted me far than close, so… yeah, having my parents bugging me all day long kind of- fucked me up, I guess. They sent me back to Paris the following September and you know the rest.”

Lifting his head off the headrest, Lucas turns to Eliott, suddenly haunted by a thought that just crossed his mind. “What’s your sister’s boyfriend like?”

Eliott glances up from his sketchbook, his back resting against the window of their carriage. As usual, it takes a second for him to leave the little space his mind has gone wandering while drawing, then he shrugs. “Thomas? He’s okay, I guess. We don’t exactly hang out together, you know, because we’re in Paris and there’s this shit-ton of kilometers between us and them, but yeah, if Clémence likes him I think he must be decent on a daily basis.”

That’s so very comforting, Lucas cringes internally. Eliott isn’t really the most observant one when he doesn’t feel like he needs to be (details are overwhelming at times), so it can mean everything and its contrary at this point. He startles when Eliott pokes him on the cheek with his pencil.

“Don’t overthink everything, it’s going to be fine,” he says, grinning. “They’ve asked plenty of stuff about you, and I already told my dad to back off because History isn’t your thing.”

Lucas’ eyes widen in horror. “You’ve told him that I don’t give a fuck about the one thing he cares about the most?” Fuck he’s screwed, he’s not going to make it through the weekend. He wonders briefly what would be the penalty for trying to stop the train, but he guesses reluctantly that it’s probably not worth the shot anyway.

“Lulu, unless you’re saying that the Man in the Iron Mask was either Fouquet or Louis XIV’s twin brother, I very much doubt that it’s going to be enough for my dad to hate you,” Eliott adds nonchalantly, the faint sound of his pencil scrapping against the page of his sketchbook returning. Lucas blinks, and his fingers are already unlocking his phone and nervously typing away when Eliott glances up, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh my god, stop! You don’t have to go all Wikipedia now!”

“But what if it comes up somehow?”

Eliott laughs incredulously. “You seriously think it ever came up with Thomas ‘I work in retail for Kaporal’ Goncet?”

Okay, it seems fair enough to him, and Lucas locks his phone again. “If it does come up, it’s on you,” he threatens, eyeing him warily.

Eliott snorts and leans forward, tucking his sketchbook between his chest and his legs to kiss him on the cheek. He’s right, he shouldn’t be freaking out so much, and that’s a bit annoying, if Lucas is being honest. He just can’t help it, that horrible thought that keeps bubbling in his chest. He’s broke. He’s not able to take care of Eliott. He’s not on speaking terms with his dad, just barely starts making up with his mom, he’s younger and he’s a fucking boy.

It seems like Eliott is sensing that whatever he can say won’t do it, so he just spins around onto his seat, finally sitting correctly, and wordlessly claims one of his earbuds. Lucas’ head finds its natural place onto Eliott’s shoulder, and his boyfriend waits for a total of three songs before fussing to choose the next one, which Lucas allows with a fond eye-roll.

*

SAMEDI, 12:32

It’s not until after spotting Clémence Demaury and her mom waiting for them at the train station that Lucas realizes how relieved he is that Eliott doesn’t have a bunch of younger siblings.

Don’t get him wrong, kids are fine. But as an only child without many family ties (his mom’s an only child as well and his dad isn’t on speaking terms with his only brother), the closest he’s been from a kid in recent years is Yann’s younger sister (who’s old enough to punch him in the face for even stating she’s a child), and the family of three living two floors away from the flat share.

In short? Children are not exactly his forte, and if you ask him, they are mildly intimidating.

The first interaction with the two women doesn’t go so bad, mostly because they are busy hugging his boyfriend to death for the first five minutes or so.

“Can you- Can you not do that?” Eliott mumbles, trying to get away from his sister’s grip.

“I haven’t seen you in forever, that’s basically my birthright,” Clémence fires back, unapologetic to the last degree as she squeezes her brother even more.

Eliott gives Lucas a pleading glance that makes him chuckle, and instantly there are two more sets of grey eyes drawn on him. He doesn’t really know what Eliott’s dad looks like, but there are already a lot of things Clémence and Eliott have in common that Lucas can track back to their mom, starting with the hair and the eyes. It feels strangely overwhelming, because he’s never really paid much attention to that sort of thing before, but now he just can’t unsee it.

“Lucas, right? I’m Clémence, it’s nice to meet you,” Clémence says with a polite smile. It’s not one of those big-ass grins that make the Demaurys’ eyes crinkling, but right now he welcomes everything that doesn’t involve being yelled at or glanced over as a victory (self-esteem who?).

“Nice to meet you too,” he replies.

Eliott’s mom eyes him a split-second too long — long enough for his heartbeat to start picking up. “Caroline. Nice to meet you.” And without transition she turns to Eliott, her gaze softening before Lucas even has the time to blink. “I was worried you’d get delayed, I’m glad you made it in time sweetie.”

“Let’s get home, I’m starving and Dad will want to hear about the details anyway,” Clémence chimes in.

Oh fuck, that’s just the first half, Lucas thinks, barely holding back a groan. Eliott slings an arm around his shoulders, startling him slightly, and beams at him as they’re heading out for the parking lot.

The trip to the Demaurys’ sees Caroline and her daughter bicker about a variety of things, which allows Eliott and him to talk a little between themselves at the back. It’s the first time he’s finding himself in Reims (the first time in a while he’s leaving Paris at all, to be completely honest), so he just takes some time to glance through the window every now and then to ease himself a bit. Eliott draws soft patterns onto his knee in the meantime, and that’s almost enough to make him forget it’s just the beginning of a very long weekend of basically watching himself and behaving.

Eliott’s parents’ house is located about twenty minutes away from the city, in a quiet neighborhood that doesn’t spark much at first glance; the two-story house itself is rather big and modern-looking, with slate rooftops, white walls and sharp edges. When they climb off the car, a beagle welcomes them, bouncing and enthusiastically yapping.

“Maia, come here,” Clémence calls out, tapping at her lap, and immediately the dog hurries to her side. She pets her a little, then she follows her mother inside, Lucas and Eliott trailing just behind, up the pathway to the front door.

The first thing that shocks Lucas once he steps inside is the nice smell, which, along with the pleasant warmth of the house, hits him in the face in the best kind of way. The entrance is facing the kitchen from across the hall, with the living-room on the left side and a staircase leading up to the upper floor directly to their right. There are a couple of pictures framed on the walls, on the way to the kitchen, or set on display on a console in the main entrance, and Lucas is sure he can spot Eliott on several of them, but he doesn’t dare to take a close look since everyone is already flocking in the kitchen.

As it turns out, Eliott’s mom well and truly seems to be the scariest parent of the two, because when he’s introduced to his boyfriend’s dad, he finds a smiling man in his fifties busy preparing lunch, and who apologies profusely because he needs to wash his hands before greeting him properly. The table is already set in the living-room, and the four of them sit down while Clémence is gone searching for her boyfriend Thomas.

“What is he even doing in the garage?” Caroline asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“He said he had to check something on Clémence’s car,” her husband, Olivier, supplies as he takes a seat next to her at the end of the table. So far, the only things Lucas can pinpoint in him that belongs to Eliott are probably the cheekbones and the sharp jawline, but it’s not like he’s spending his time staring either.

“Let’s hope he’s better with fixing cars than fixing a clogged bathtub,” she mutters. “Did we receive the papers from the insurance already?”

“I don’t think we should be expecting them until next week at best.”

Lucas can’t help himself and his eyes fly immediately to Eliott, who stares at his mother in return. “Mom, don’t start now, Thomas is fine.”

She smiles at him, and it doesn’t take much for Lucas to realize it’s her very special ‘Eliott’ smile. “Of course he is. But let’s be honest, it’s not like Clémence is going to spend the rest of her life with him.”

Lucas’ hands tighten on the edge of the table. What the fuck is he doing here? He doesn’t even know if he should cry or laugh at the situation right now. Cry, probably. Because if Caroline doesn’t really bet on her daughter’s long-term relationship to work out when both she and her boyfriend are fairly close from adulthood, how on Earth would she bet on him?

She’s totally going to chew him and spit him out in a two-day span of time.

“Caro, they move in together in three months, get over it,” Olivier sighs, handing her the bread basket.

She seems about to argue when the door leading to the garage opens on Clémence, a tall guy with dark hair and a grey button-down following close-behind. His faded jeans are hanging low on his hips, probably lower than Caroline and Olivier like it on their son-in-law, and maybe it’s this tiny detail, or the massive GUESS stamped on his belt, or the way his hair is styled, but all of a sudden Lucas has no trouble at all to picture him in a Kaporal store.

His face breaks into a grin when his eyes trail on Lucas. “Oh, hey. I’m Thomas,” he says, holding out his hand.

Lucas stands up, careful not to make a mess between his chair and the carpet on the floor. He smiles back, shaking his hand a bit awkwardly. “Lucas,” he offers a bit uselessly. He’s spent less than an hour with the Demaurys but somehow it’s not that hard to think he’s been the hot topic for quite a while. For better or for worse.

“What were you talking about?” Clémence inquires, visibly suspicious, as she takes her seat next to Lucas, and Thomas places himself between his girlfriend and Olivier.

Eliott picks up a piece of bread from the basket and he hands it to Lucas. “The train ride. Boring.”

The lie rolls off so smoothly that Lucas can’t help but find it a bit hot. Clémence hums in response. “At least you got here in time. Last time my train got delayed for four hours.”

“And that’s why we ended up driving for four hours to get here this time,” Thomas snarls.

Olivier passes around the crudités. “You should get your driving license too, Eli. The SNCF never stops failing, it could come in handy someday.”

Eliott shrugs. “There’s still the subway. And the bus. I don’t know what I’d do with a car.” And then he smiles, looking at Lucas who suddenly feels like his cheeks are heating faster than they should. “And I wouldn’t have met Lucas otherwise.”

Lucas knew it would suck to be at the other end of the table but he’s still unpleasantly surprised to feel so awkward under everyone’s glance when they all focus on him. He clears his throat. “We-uh, we met at a bus stop. After- uh, after school,” he explains, trying to keep his voice in check.

Eliott probably did it on purpose, judging by his bright grin that has nothing to do with the topic of the conversation.

“Oh, that’s sweet. So you didn’t know each other at all?” Clémence asks while she fills her plate.

“No,” Lucas answers honestly. “At least I didn’t, but apparently Eliott’s got some great stalker skills.”

Take that, he thinks, shooting a grin to Eliott. There’s something that glints into his boyfriend’s grey eyes and it makes his heart beat faster. “I bumped into him the moment I walked in, in January,” Eliott says nonchalantly, “I just kept an eye on him until we found ourselves together, is all. Besides, you came to talk to me.”

Lucas snorts, and immediately he swallows back his smile when he remembers where he is.

Thomas frowns. “Weren’t you still with Lucille back in January?”

The smile on Lucas’ face vanishes for good and it’s stupid, really, because it’s not like he never thought she wouldn’t be brought up at any point, ever. She’d been dating Eliott for the past four years, so of course it’s only natural that-

Fuck that, he just wants to crawl into a hole. The worst part? He can distinctively feel that his mind is torn between guilt at the thought of having taken Lucille’s spot in a family that apparently liked her very much, and being completely aware that Lucille wasn’t the right person for Eliott.

“It was complicated,” Eliott mumbles. “Too complicated if you ask me. Everything’s much simpler with Lucas.”

“And that’s what should matter in the end,” Olivier intervenes. There’s a second of silence, then he smiles at Lucas, gesturing at the plate Clémence had set between them at some point when they were talking. “Lucas? Will you take some?”

*

SAMEDI, 14:37

After lunch, he’s dragged along with Eliott in a very long, very tiring, and very intense shopping session in a shopping area nearby, which gives him massive war flashbacks from his childhood. He’s spent tons of afternoons like this, trailing behind his mom, occasionally whining because he was tired and wanted to go home while she kept filling shopping cart after shopping cart.

“Can’t we stay here?” Eliott asks after Caroline knocks on the door of his bedroom, literally five minutes after they got inside, to give them a heads up on the program.

“Honey, we barely ever get to see you. It’s going to be fun, you’ll see,” Caroline replies, and so Eliott caves in.

Since they can’t fit everyone in one car, Eliott and Lucas go with Clémence and Thomas, thus allowing him to catch a bit of a break.

As it turns out, shopping with his boyfriend instead of his parents is a bit more fun than he expected. It’s not the first time he’s going out with Eliott (aside from the occasional raid to the closest FNAC store every now and then, his boyfriend would sometimes drag him through all of his favorite record stores and Lucas would just watch Eliott rummage through them for hours without ever getting bored), but this time feels different, for some reason. They spend most of their time sharing jokes and decorating ideas while the whole family walks through IKEA.

“That kid is definitely called Stella,” Eliott says at one point when they walk by the nursery section, briefly stopping in front of a small area decorated with shades of pink and green. There are flowers laced together framing a round-shaped mirror, and plushy blankets in the white crib. “She lives with her single mom and her two aunts are always around to dote on her.”

Lucas quirks a brow, laughing. “Alright. What about this one?”

The following area is designed for a toddler, with a small bed instead of a crib and a tipi spilling toys on the floor in the corner. The various pieces of furniture are made of a light-colored wood that vaguely reminds him of bamboo. Eliott gives it a thought. “Esteban,” he says. “He’s been diagnosed with ADHD and his parents are always trying to follow him through all his activities even if they’re dying to get a quiet afternoon.”

Lucas huffs a laugh. “Okay, let me try.” Eliott gestures as if to say ‘be my guest’, and Lucas gets a look at the next one. The walls are painted light-grey, with wooden letters spelling the name Lola on one of them and a white crib in the center. The large carpet is white with small baby foxes playing. “Well, she’s called Lola-”

“You must be tired already,” Eliott snickers and Lucas elbows him in the ribs.

“-and her parents have a dog that she’s constantly petting. She’s got those extra-expressive eyes and she’s always laughing.” He turns his head to the side and Eliott grins at him. “It’s not that hard.”

His boyfriend pulls him closer. “You forgot the most important part though.”

Lucas cranes his neck up. “Which is?”

“She’s got two daddies.” Eliott winks at him and Lucas flushes while he’s already sauntering away, tugging at his hand as he does so.

After IKEA, Clémence and Caroline head for another furniture store but Lucas and Eliott decline to follow, opting to wander around on their own instead. They stop by at Subway to grab a drink and settle on a bench outside, which is probably not the best option regarding the temperature, as Lucas quickly realizes. “Are you cold? We can go back inside,” Eliott suggests when he sees him shiver a bit.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Lucas waves. Eliott slides a bit closer and wraps his arms around him, which makes him feel warm but for another, much sappier reason than mere body temperature. He doesn’t mind people looking at them anymore — it barely ever gets to him now. He’s just happy with how things are, and he doesn’t think he could ask for more than that.

“Sorry about my parents, they’re a bit overwhelming. They like to do tons of stuff like this,” Eliott says. “I guess they forgot I can’t always deal with it.”

Lucas turns around in his arms, worried. “Are you okay?”

Eliott tilts his head to the side. “Oh, yeah.” Then he smiles, cupping his face. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He pecks him on the lips, once, twice, before Lucas goes for a longer kiss.  

Eliott’s dad texts him not long after to agree on a gathering point, and they head to the spot, where the Demaurys suggest that they should have dinner at a restaurant, which makes Clémence snickers as soon as they climb in the car. “Mom can’t cook to save her life, be grateful Lucas.”

“I already got food poisoning from one member of the Demaury family,” he snorts as Thomas maneuvers through the parking lot, “but thanks for the tip.”

Clémence turns onto her seat. “Eli, what the hell did you do?”

“Why are you throwing me under the bus?” Eliott complains and Lucas tugs on his arm to kiss him on the cheek. “I made it with love.”

“I’m just kidding. And your eggs are great, generally.”

Eliott snorts.

“Still better than mom,” Clémence observes. “Once she put eggs in the microwave, it felt like we were reenacting that scene from the Gremlins movie. Luckily we had dad growing up. Not sure we would have made it otherwise.”

[bigskydreaming]

Garrett is definitely obnoxious enough to where he would have his shadow do pantomime annoyingly. Garrett definitely plays up how dangerous his shadow is, lets rumors spread about how it totally assassinated some rich fuck when really it was Violet. Theo is rubbing his temples because he won't shut up

LOLOLOL. And everyone who really knows Garrett and how his magic works knows that he’s full of shit and Violet’s the real dangerous one of their duo. And Theo’s constantly mumbling to himself, like, arguing the pros and cons of just fucking killing Garrett despite how useful he is. He’s like ugh, if only I could just figure out where the seat of his magic is so I could steal his shadow for myself, and he’s always contemplating like….okay, there has to be someone down in Answers Alley who could tell me how to kill that little asshole in such a way as to let me absorb his magic….I just can’t decide if its worth admitting that I don’t actually know how to do it or how to figure it out for myself, or potentially risk letting someone in on how my own magic works if they don’t already know that.

Plus he’s aware of the possibility that like, even if he did find someone who could give him the right answer there, they might just lie or not tell him because y’know….they don’t like him either.

And some days he’s just like fuck it, I can’t listen to one more word from that little shit, I’m just gonna kill him and be done with it, nothing’s worth this and there are plenty of changelings with like, scrying magic. Only stopped by Tracy pulling him back and pointing out; “Yeah, but you’d have to convince them to work for you first, and that’s easier said than done. I mean, I’m your right hand lieutenant and I’m mostly just meh on you myself.”

Theo, acidly: Thanks ever so much for that.

Tracy: Any time, boss!

Anyway, speaking of Answers Alley, the street sandwiched between Mercy Row and the edge of the Seventh Circle district, with one end of the Alley running all the way up to the Rose’s Garden right at the very heart of Bordertown, and the other end letting out in Shadowsmeet (the roofless warehouse turned ampitheatre that houses Jake the Drake, and where changelings gather for a kind of 24/7 street fair that showcases all kinds of art from the tangible expressions like painting and sculpture to music playing, dancing and storytelling and theater) -

Some of the Changelings found in Answers Alley - Aaron, Melody, Eloise, Rashid, Hiromi aka Compass Rose, and Jackie:

Aaron - an eighteen year old black boy whose body is covered in scrolling gold script from all kinds of different languages, the texts of books, scrolls, and tomes that have been lost to history. The text on his body is always relevant to whatever question he was just asked, information that’s applicable or relevant if not the direct answer itself, but it will vanish and be replaced by new words the second another question is posed to him, and even re-asking the first question isn’t guaranteed to bring back the original text instead of more linked text pulled from other sources. 

Aaron always knows how to read or understand the words on him, even if they’re written in a language that he doesn’t otherwise know, which means that he’s still usually the only one who can give a person the answers they’re seeking (and assuming he even wants to). But just sneaking a peek at his arm isn’t going to help anyone when the words on it are from a dead language that hasn’t been read or understood in millennia. Aaron’s both the answer and the key to understanding it.

Melody - a twenty-two year old, mostly mainstream appearing Latina changeling with brown skin and eyes and dark, curly hair offset by two sharp silvery horns that make a V shape like a kind of stylized tuning fork. Her only other visible change is that her ears have a pointed elfin shape and natural holes in them up and down the cartilage like she has multiple piercings in them and just wears no earrings. But with her, the true change and magic isn’t seen, but heard - its almost never completely silent when she’s around, because the very air around her seems to constantly hum when anyone is speaking in her vicinity at all. How harmonious or not the ambient music her magic produces around her is though, is entirely dependent on whether its truth or lies that are being spoken within her exceptional hearing range. 

Like most changelings, her magic is only fully accessible to her….to everyone else, the song surrounding her might be pleasing or not, but only she has the magical sensitivity needed to detect the slight changes in her song, enough to pinpoint when a lie is spoken or a truth is told. But the real gift of her magic is that its attuned to universal truths rather than just perceived truths….meaning she can detect whether something said to or around her is true or not regardless of whether or not the person who says it believes it to be true…..thus making her a sought-out changeling not just for settling disputes, but for anyone who seeks to know whether something they’ve been told or believe is actually true or not. 

The more specific the question though, the more definitive her answer for them is. She’s not good with settling matters of philosophy or religion, because as she puts it, most everything stemming from those have at least an element of truth to them, and so those kinds of questions usually prompt a veritable symphony around her, with so much harmony and discordance both, that its all but impossible for her to declare anything definitive. But personal truths, especially ones with a finite yes or no answer, she excels at - such as if someone relates a memory to her and asks if they’ve remembered it correctly or if there’s something about what actually happened that eludes them, that sort of thing.

Eloise - a dreamy, absent-minded seventeen year old white changeling of French descent, whose ‘shop’ is set back from the rest of the street a little ways, intersecting with one of the many canals that criss-cross Bordertown and allow the aquatic or amphibious residents to come and go between the mainland of it and the undersea neighborhoods that make up Sub Francisco. Her skin tone is a pale pink coral hue, and instead of hair she has a voluminous head of white sea-foam that appears and acts as if its a long, thick tangle of hair. Her shop is a fairly large one story room that’s mostly filled by the waters from the canal with the exception of just enough floor by the front entrance for most visitors to stand on while visiting her, assuming they’re not aquatic Changelings themselves.

Her magic, and the reason for her almost constant daydreaming, is that her magic makes any water she touches a scrying pool that plays out visions of whatever location she pictures. She doesn’t have to have visited herself, she only needs a point of reference for her magic to hone in on…..which can even just be someone’s description of a place they wish to view. Then all it takes is for her to sweep one languid hand through the water around her and the whole surface will shimmer and then show that place and whatever’s happening there, not as a static image but as though watching it on video.

There are a couple of caveats to her magic, same as anyone else’s…..people have to be careful when asking her to show them what’s happening currently in a place, that they describe something about it that’s true of now for her to hone in on…because her magic can just as easily show those places in the past, and if they’re describing from memory, what Eloise shows them might actually be something out of date or no longer relevant. But then again, this also allows her to show specific events that have already happened, as long as someone provides something specific to that point in time for her to hone in on as well as the place. Also, there’s no sound to her moving images, which is why she usually just says something like “people are boring” when asked to hone in on what a particular person is doing right now instead of asking about showing a specific place. Only a few Changelings have figured out that Eloise is a lot sharper than she pretends to be and is perfectly capable of spying on any individual from the safety and privacy of her scrying pool….and does, for the right price or her own personal agendas.

Rashid - a twenty-year old blind Lebanese-American whose change takes the form of glowing beads of orange light that wrap around his arms and all the way up to his neck in double-banded spirals that usually take people a minute or two to place as just vaguely familiar, before the realize that the sight reminds them of a DNA helix.

Just as all Changelings’ magic takes something about who and what they are and just….amplifies that, externalizes it, makes them more of it in some kind of unique magical expression of that, Rashid’s natural scientific curiosity resulted in his magical ability to touch a thing and feel the building blocks that make it what it is, and if he wants to, break things down into those individual components.

There’s a wide array of ways he’s able to use this, beyond just exploring his own personal studies of things…..bring him a bloody weapon, and just by touching an unbloodied part of it he can name where the ore that weapon was made from was mined, as well as name whose blood is on it, and even whose fingerprint, if someone left one and it was handled by gloves afterward. The answers just come to him as names and place names, etc, and they don’t usually have context, so he can’t help beyond that if the names he mentions are unfamiliar to him or the person asking, he can’t tell where they are now….just that these are the basic truths he’s reading off the weapon he was handed, the things that combine to make it what it is now…the blade made of metal from this location, the fingerprint of this person, the blood of this person, etc.

And then on the more physical side of his magic, the breaking things down into their individual building blocks, one example of this is he can kinda distill something down into just what he or someone else wants it to be….like if he touches water that’s been poisoned or drugged, he can split it into just the pure unaltered water and then with the poison or toxin bubbling up to the surface like separating oil and water, easily then filtered out. Or he can touch a complicated piece of machinery or construction of some sort, and make it just tumble down into pieces of its individual components.

As with many other residents of Bordertown though, he’s got his secrets and his true limits are known only to a few. He’s one of the town’s earliest arrivals, back when they were all still fairly few in number and shaping their new society and what roles and degree of influence they would all occupy within it….so only a few remember that he early on established himself as being in the way of certain agendas of Theo’s, and in response, Theo sent one of his most dangerous assassins after him, a Changeling no one ever knew by any name other than the Doppelganger. Unfortunately for the Doppelganger, his own magic required putting his hands on his intended target to activate it…..and that was all Rashid needed to feel the essential building blocks of the Doppelganger and use his own talent first…..to strip the Doppelganger of his magic and leave him separated from it and as he was before his own Change.

Those who were aware of this feat have been careful not to speak of it since, or the reason Theo and his people so carefully avoid Rashid now. Leaving him as he likes it, sought out for his help in reading truths and other aspects of his skills, rather than known as one of the more dangerous Changelings and capable of something no other Changeling has ever managed. But that doesn’t mean nobody knows or remembers - after all, the Doppelganger hasn’t forgotten. And as far as he can tell, that magic that was stripped from him had to go somewhere….and he wants it back. 

A quest that has him give Answers Alley a wide berth, as instead he seeks out Madame Midnight and promises any favor she wants from one of Bordertown’s most dangerous residents, if she can just help him regain his Change and his magic first…..   

Hiromi, aka Compass Rose - a sixteen year old from Chicago originally, and a third generation Japanese-American, she shares a loft in the Aerie with five or so friends with their own flight-capable Changes, and just pops down to the small stall along Answers Alley that’s all she needs. She’s got a sign hanging on the front of it that declares “Don’t bother me unless you’ve already got your own ride back. Round trip service not provided.”

Hiromi’s Change makes her a mish-mash of flora and fauna….she’s got hawk-like eyes and her eyebrows are feathered, and she has short, dark hair that’s crowned by short, branching antlers between which sits her signature rose. From her back sprout two large, bat-like wings whose skeletal frame are actually made of branches rather than bone, and with the material of her wings being more akin to green leaves than feathers. Her wings are the largest thing about her, as she’s fairly tiny except for them, only about five feet tall, and nobody has any idea how they fly aerodynamically, other than well…magic.

But other than the innate magic powering her flight, Hiromi’s actual gift is a form of teleportation with very specific parameters….hence why she sends away anyone who hasn’t first procured the help of some other teleporter or transportation inclined Changeling before seeking her out. Once they do come back with another Changeling willing to help them return later, someone asks for her help finding something….could be a person, an item, or even something ephemeral, like the solution to a problem…..and Hiromi’s magic, a combination of teleportation and dowsing rod, activates upon her command and whips up a tiny miniature whirlwind around the asker and whomever they designate as their company for the trip, like another teleporting Changeling. And when her whirlwind dies down, they’re gone, having been teleported to the location of whatever it was they asked her help in finding. Even if it is something ephemeral like the solution they need to something….her magic can’t spell out for them how its the answer to their problem….just send them to where it is that they’ll find it, as long as they can figure out from there what it is about their surroundings that will help them.

Jackie - a twenty-one year old agender Native American of the Choctaw tribe, originally from Mississippi before coming to Bordertown, Jackie’s magic and Change make them the sum of not just their parts, but all their possible parts. Basically, Jackie’s appearance is like a flipbook, constantly flickering through all possible appearances they might take, making them a somewhat dizzying blur of constant albeit low-intensity motion. Even when they’re sitting totally still, their appearance isn’t, shifting hairstyles, colors, accessories, all without them doing anything at all.

The constant motion of their appearance does slow however, depending on how many aspects of themselves they split off to go accomplish various tasks…usually in pursuit of some knowledge, information or answer. Whenever they want to, they can kinda….shrug off one of the many dizzying possible appearances they have….which splits off to become another Jackie, standing right next to them, but with a steady, static appearance….as they’re only one of the seemingly infinite possible selves contained within Jackie. 

This version of them has the same experiences, knowledge and even priorities of the original Jackie, as they’re all them, the same single person…..the second Jackie is just a specific iteration of the many possible ways they could be….them. And then these other Jackies, however many of them there are, can act independent of the original and go anywhere and do anything the original can. There’s no limit to how far they can range, or limit to how long they can remain separate, and they can fairly easily go about in mainstream public without attracting much attention, as they don’t have a Change of their own….they ARE the Change. 

But then at any point they can and do all eventually return to the main Jackie and add their accumulated knowledge and experiences to the whole, and reshelving their appearance within the flicker-book of possible appearances and selves contained within Jackie.

[erikismybitch]

Waiting In Vain: Chapter 8

No Vacancy

Trey could not stop kissing her . From the moment she arrived , when she slept and couldn’t feel him and even to wake her up. He couldn’t stop. It was spring, a little before Easter so the early mornings were dark. Trey liked to sleep with the tv on, but on mute so he could be aware of everything around him. He could see her sleeping due to its light. He looked down at her , Marley’s face was snuggled into his armpit. She snored lightly , that’s how he knew she was really sleep . He kissed the top of her hair , the aromatics from her hair products alowed him to get a taste. Kind of like coconut. Then he kissed her face , so much so that Marley had waken up . Marley kissed back because she was nice , and it was nice waking up to affection.

Two weeks had passed by and Marley was ready to go . Trey lived in a full house . Not only with people, there were kids also .Kids with no structure or manners , they were up all night and loud. The one time Marley tried to correct Treys nephew , his mother got offended. So from then , she vowed to never say anything again . It was like walking on eggshells. The house was in constant movement, never a single moment to chill . Too top things off , the house was not very clean . She didn’t feel safe, just a burden .

Marley had sent Trey and one of his friends to get all of her stuff from her apartment. What was left of it after Tiana destroyed some stuff. Trey wanted to handle her in the violent way he knew how , but Marley put an end to that . After some time to herself , Marley understood slightly why Tiana was so upset . She had a right to be angry & a lot of the stuff she destroyed wasn’t important. Though , her actions online were harsh and Marley did not deserve that . And she would never forget it.

Suddenly, the walls of Trey’s room started to fill with hues of red and blue . It was still so early that Marley thought it was a part of her dream, until she heard the police siren .

“Fuck!”

Just as Trey yelled in panic his eldest brother came into the room , just as distraught as he. The cops began to bang on the door and announce themselves .

“OPP’s is here, clean up!” He shouted and rushed off into the hallway. That meant hide everything that would send you to jail . Trey eased his way to the blinds , he peaked through them , giving him a view of the front porch .

“It’s the same two from last time” he sighed . “Aye get up , help me” Trey poked at Marley’s side roughly . Marley shot up from the bed and went straight to his closet . The top left , Trey’s South Beach Lebron shoe box is where he stashed the mass of his drugs . Pills , weed , coke , Marley knew exactly where everything was. She had a lot of practice . It wasn’t her first go round so she knew what to do .

“Same cops from last time , he said?” Marley questioned Trey as she started filling the bathroom sink pipe with narcotics.

“They got it out for me, or somebody snitching ” He continued to hide things . “Let em In!” He yelled to his brother .

“Do they have a warrant?” Marley sat on the bed, trying to hide the fact that she was a nervous wreck .

“It don’t matter , they do what they want to do anyway”

The cops were let in. And began to raid each room, with total disregard for the children who were sleeping peacefully. Speaking loudly about how they “...better not be hiding anything because that will only make it worse” The children cried and mothers complained, but were quickly warned that they would be arrested if they didn’t shut their mouths .

The cops made it to Treys room. Unbeknownst to Marley , there were two cops and one was of color . From experience, she knew them to be the worst ones . They just walked in, without acknowledging anyone. It’s like they knew exactly where to go . They waisted no time knocking down things and ripping into every nook and cranny of Treys room . The mess they were creating was so unnecessary, almost personal . They even opened his wall vents to check. Trey leaned his body on his wall , pretending to be unbothered .

“Do you guys have a warrant?” Marley spoke , the two cops pretended not to hear her and continued to destroy Treys room . So she spoke again . “Can I see your warrant , you can’t just come in here and do this” her voice shook with fear . Trey advised her to just stop talking , and so did the cops .

“Will I get arrested for talking?”

“Who are you?” The black cop interrupted, he put a little fear in Marley . He could tell because she stepped back towards Trey for protection.

“I’m his girlfriend” Marley said almost as a question, not like a statement. The two cops looked at each other with raised brows.

“And you live here?” The white one said this time , putting much emphasis on the word “here”

“Nah officer , she don’t” Trey tried to answer for her.

“I was talking to her , boy”

Trey clinched his jaw , holding himself back from retaliation . He did not want to go to jail , or end up dead. It was best to just keep quiet , and let them destroy the house because they wouldn’t find anything. Trey had been hit twice this month by the same cops . It had to be someone giving them the green light .

“Got something you want to say to me?” The cop continued to push Treys hot buttons , clearly pissed that he couldn’t get the response he wanted . They just needed any excuse to arrest him .

“Nah, I’m good” he bellowed, refusing to give the cops the satisfaction.

The white cop turned to Marley and asked for her information. Things like if she had any felonies or open cases , did she have an address, even if she was on drugs. Marley answered each question honestly, even though the cops didn’t seem to believe her . Once they were done pestering everyone at this ungodly hour they began to head out .

“What happened to the girl who was here last time , she told us she was your girlfriend too” The black cop decided he couldn’t leave without aggravating the situation even more . When the two cops saw the look of confusion on Marleys face , they laughed and slapped five . They left , obnoxiously letting their sirens go off before they drove off.

Marley asked Trey who they were talking about .

He lied

“Just some girl I was talking to , she outta’ the picture now “

Marley didn’t care if he was having sex with other women , they weren’t together any more . In fact , jealousy was the furthest thing from her mind in the moment . There was a woman in his house, Trey never brought people here , especially ones he didn’t trust .

“Then you must really like her”

“What?” Trey responded quickly , and loud in efforts to scare her away from the topic .

“I mean, she must be somebody if you let her in here” she tightened her head scarf , it was slipping down . Then a yawn slipped from her lips . It was still so early.

“Cops just came in here and fucked my house up , and you think I want to talk to you about some bitch” he snatched something that was in close proximity to Marley , making her flinch .

“You know what !” She shouted , with so many “could be” insults at the tip of her tongue , but she couldn’t seem to let them out . “I need to go, this wasn’t a good idea” Marley began to load her clothes in her suitcases , the cops had went through them and her things were all over the floor . Trey tailed behind her as she packed .

“Stop being dramatic, where are you going to go?” He teased .

Marley dropped the UGG boot that was in her hand. Her expression was one of realization, her lips formed a wide “o” shape . “You think I need you ?” She gave off a sarcastic laugh as she notioned her hand around the room . Putting more emphasis on the chaos around them . “I don’t need this!” She assured him .

“You sure needed this when you called me crying”

Marley kissed her teeth and kept packing her things . Once she went into the bathroom to grab her hygenic belongings, he knew she was serious .

“So-so you just gone leave? “ he stuttered .

“Trey” Marley held her hand up to stop him from interjecting . Her mind was already made up .

“Just tell me where you’re going”

Marley continued to ignore him . She didn’t need this . Police searches, the constant noise, now his Lies . Her therapist would shit bricks if he knew the situation she’d gotten herself into . “Mar” Trey grabbed her hand gently .

“I’m going to stay at an extended stay until I find an apartment” she told him.

“Baby I can’t let you st-” she pulled her hand away from him, he brought his tone down a notch . “Can I at least pay for it?”

“You don’t have to” she declined his offer , knowing that it would help her financially. Marley didn’t want to depend on anyone for anything anymore.

“Just the first week, then after that I won’t bother you”

“Fine”

Trey helped her pack all of her stuff , the loaded it into her car . He peeled a few hundreds from his pocket and gave them to her . It was more than a weeks stay . He kissed her forehead a few times then let her go .

“She’ll be back , she always comes back” Treys brother had been standing on the porch watching . Trey nodded in agreement, but for some reason, he felt like this was the last time.