#the literal smoke trail over my neighborhood

[taggthewanderer]

On Sunday we were talking about 9/11 again and my mom mentioned how the person who she sat next to back when she worked for Blue Cross died in the Towers, which of course brings me to the alternate universe where my mother didn't get laid off from Blue Cross several years prior and she was there when it happened.

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along. 

[peakgenko]

Songs the Haikyuu boys would slow dance with you to...

CW; suggestive sexual themes

N/A, my heart nutted while writing this tbh

not proofread!!

© All content belongs to damnihateithere.

Kei Tsukishima

Dream A Little Dream of Me- The Mamas & The Papas

I don’t even know how i made this connection but i feel like tsukishima hums a lot of old songs and so this would be one of them

Or slow dancing in the dark by joji. it’s his favourite song. because of you.

Yuu Nishinoya

So Good At Being in Trouble- Unknown Mortal Orchestra

You’d rock back and fourth with him slowly while his lips press against the back of your hand— his eyes staring intently while he hums the lyrics

Shoyo Hinata

I’m Yours- Jason Mraz

So it’s not really something you can slow dance to but this is definitely his song for you. He sings this to you in the showers, during pillow talk, or drum the rhythm with his fingers against a Tupperware when he’s cooking something for you.

He’ll pull you in by the waist and nuzzle his head up against your back with a grin.

At this point it’s his favourite song because it always gets him in the mood. But that’s only because he thinks of you when he hums it.

Rintarō Suna

Versace On The Floor- Bruno Mars

OMG

okay so I imagine the two of you on some dance floor. Like at a club. I head canon that he’s good at dancing. Effortlessly too.

The music stops and and they choose a slow song to end the evening

You’re wearing a dress that cuts off mid thigh. And he’s in a little suit. His blazers loose and his collared shirt is buttoned down since it got a little heated in the midst of sweaty bodies practically grinding up against eachother

Underneath the red and purple spotlights, specks of iridescent lights from the disco ball hanging from the ceiling arrange themselves on your faces.

He’s singing the lyrics wholeheartedly with a fox like grin while his hands roam down to your ass. Although it’s intent was far from sexual.

Atsumu Miya

Corduroy Dreams- Rex Orange County

LOVE LOVES WHISTLING IT TO YOU

Definitely does kiss you in the shower for a couple hours.

He’s fresh out of the shower and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Drops of water race down to his feet as they roll down his bare chest. You have your towel wrapped around your chest

One hand laced with his, he leads you in a slowing pace around the room with a chirpy smile.

Osamu Miya

Blessed- Daniel Caeser

i’m not sure how i made this conclusion but i’m gonna go with it

He has the prettiest voice when he sings along.

It’s not really dancing though. He has your back facing his chest while his arms enveloped on top of your collar bones and shoulders. He’s pecking gentle kisses against your cheek while rocking back and fourth to the song while you two prepare breakfast.

Keishin Ukai

Fly Love- Jamie Foxx

I imagine you two on some sort of resort of beach. You two are soaked of water but this song just happens to pop up so you stand there in his arms while he teasingly blows a cloud of smoke into your face.

Keiji Akaashi

HENTAI BY CIGARETTES AFTER SEX!!!!

okay for those of you who don’t know that song i know by the title of the song it looks sus and trust me he was definitely skeptic of it as well but give it a listen because now you’re all he ever thinks about when he hears this song.

he swears he’ll dance to this with you in his arms on your wedding day.

if you’re feeling angsty, he’d definitely hold you close and dance with you to the swan by camille saint-saëns

Wakatoshi Ushijima

I Hear A Symphony- Cody Fry

He loves how classy it sounds and it perfectly describes how he feels about you. hell it may even be his favourite song.

He felt like volleyball was his only purpose and for a while he was more than okay with that. until he met you and now he strives for more in life. Hence the whole “I used to hear a simple song” verse. loves putting emphasis in his tone when singing “perfection is so quick to bore...you are my beautiful by far” (only to himself of course) homeboy gets a little embarrassed when it comes to singing.

Daichi Sawamura

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby- Cigarettes After Sex

I don’t even need to have a scenario for this like he just radiates this energy:((

Like imagine his cheek pressed against yours while his hand weaves through your hair

Tadashi Yamaguchi

You say I’m in love- Banes World!!!!!!!!

Head empty just you and yams dancing to this song underneath LEDs and a ceiling projector

you’re all he thinks about when he sings this song

and bubblegum by clairo- he’d tell you not to focus on the lyrics but instead the instrumental portion. he says the comforting mellow beat reminds him of you.

Kenma Kozume

Nothing- Bruno Major.

Sings the lyrics to you

You’d think he’d be too shy and youre right but it’s because he does it subconsciously.

BRO THIS WOULD LITERALLY BE HIS SONG IN A RELATIONSHIP

Aran Ojiro

Ugotme- Omar Apollo

Such a good singer as well

When the two of you dance, you two dance.

His ability to dance is almost mesmerizing along with his singing.

Sings while covering your neck and collarbones with kisses

Satori Tendou

How Deep Is Your Love- Bee Gees

Also dramatically lip syncs the lyrics to you

Lifts you up into the air and into his arm almost five times mid dance.

He’ll shake his head with his lips pressed up against your neck while his hands trail upwards and toy with the hem of your shirt, his hands hungry with anticipation to just rip it off.

and you scold him when you feel his lips contort into a devilish grin.

Kotaro Bokuto

Hopelessly Devoted To You- Olivia Newton John

hear me out. He only knows this song because akaashi made him watch grease bc he says bokuto should be exposed to the “classics” and since watching it at age 12 with akaashi and bo’s two sisters, he’s prayed that one day he’d meet someone that’d make him feel the way that song did.

He does now and everytime that songs on he’s practically carrying you in his arms.

Tobio Kageyama

Love Me Please- OCTAVIO

this is the only song he knows with the exception of old kanye west because he considers his music grind music but you definitely put him on this song.

He’s literally a psychopath who doesn’t listen to anything EXCEPT like popular rap songs from 2017-2018. And even then he’ll only tolerate it when he needs to work out.

And then he meets you. Now he listens to music in a different aspect.

He knows he’s not the most romantic guy out there but he’s trying his best and you tell him that’s more than enough. He loves you so much.

Koushi Sugawara

This Side of Paradise- Coyote Theory

he’s dragging you out of the house to dance with you to this song. bonus points if it’s raining

he’s also the type to scream-sing to love songs.

There aren’t any cars in the vicinity due to the pouring rain so the two of you make your way to the road.

Your hand in his, he twirls you underneath the storm and into his arms.

Toru Oikawa

Pretty Boy- The Neighborhood

He’ll put so much emphasis in his tone on the “Even if the earth starts shaking, you’re the only thing worth taking- with me. Even if the sky’s on fire, got you here it’s alright.” verse

You’re literally everything to him

he won’t let you go even for a second until this song is finished even then he’ll have trouble parting.

Hajime Iwaizumi

Baby I’m Yours- Arctic Monkeys cover

It’s not even dancing at this point, it’s just you two cuddling and him pretending like he hates it even though he’s the one who refuses to let go of you.

Ryonusuke Tanaka

Knockin’ Da Boots- H-town

if he’s not dancing to this with you in his arms he’s definitely ironically grinding on the floor to this with a fuck boy face.

Hitoka Yachi

two queens in a king sized bed- girl in red

I just imagine the most “call me by your name” scenery type shit.

Or maybe like a field of flowers? You just have her in your arms on some sort of picnic date she planned for the two of you

Semi Eita-

I Wanna Be Yours- Arctic Monkeys

your arms wrap around his neck and his lips press onto yours while the two of you sway back and fourth underneath red led lights.

don’t be surprised if things get sexual.

Tetsuro Kuroo

Careless Whisper- George Michael

okay first he played this song when you were over once and he had it on so that he could initiate a little make out sess with you but when you could tell how nervous he was on making a move on you you told him that there was no pressure on anything and he sort of just danced with you instead. he ended up unironically really liking this song because of that.

(bonus: if it’s fanon kuroo he likes to dance to sway by Michael Bublé with you and the whole time he’s just eyeing you down with a sly grin)

Kiyoomi Sakusa

Beach Baby- Bon Iver

Space Song- Beach House

I imagine it’s raining horribly outside to the point where the thunder outside is retro boomin

but the windows are open because both you and Sakusa love the sound of rain pouring

he has this song playing from his record player while he hums against your neck.

[harrysgloves]

Let Your Hair Down (chapter xxviii)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 1,764

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: Harry’s in over his head.

warnings: Language // mentions of injuries

a/n: Remember the good times? Yeah, they’re over. xx

>>><<<

Harry stared after your car. Eyes filled with tears as Mitch walked up behind him. He didn't know what to say to Harry to make it better, to comfort him, so he just stood there along with Sarah. All three of them looking at the road you had just torn through.

"She'll be okay." Mitch sighed, hand coming up on Harry's shoulder.

"You didn't 'ave to see it. I don't think she'll ever be okay after that." Harry jerked away and started towards his own car. His hands fishing around for the keys in his pocket.

"Don't follow her." Sarah yelled after him, making him pause.

"How am I supposed to jus' let her go after that? Huh? I'm jus' supposed to let her leave? Not check on her?" Harry's voice was laced with anger and hurt. Eyes filled with tears, he didn't know what to do. Didn't want to push you but he had to check on you. Had to make sure you were okay.

He loved you too much to leave you now.

"He's right. We should go check on her." Mitch piped up making Sarah raise her eyebrows at him.

"This is a bad idea. If she wanted us to be involved she wouldn't have run away." She sighed, shaking her head at both of them. She knew you well enough to know you wouldn't want anyone barging in and forcing you to talk.

"Fuck that. I care too much 'bout her to let her go through this alone. I'm goin' to her apartment, if she doesn't want me there she can tell me herself." Harry turned back and started walking to his car, Mitch and Sarah running after him.

"I'm coming with you." Mitch yelled after him but Harry ignored him. He didn't care if Mitch tagged along. He just needed to make sure you two were okay and make sure you got to a hospital. There was no way you didn't need to go to a hospital.

"No, Mitch, she didn't even want you to touch her. She's not going to want us trying to force our way in." Sarah pulled on his arm to get him to stop walking.

"She has been my best friend since we were kids. I can't leave her. And what about Thea? She wasn't just crying like that cause she saw her mom roughed up and you know it." Mitch's words made Harry stop in his tracks. Eyes closing as he took in a deep breath to face them.

"He hit her too. She ran in front 'f me when we went t'go lookin' fo' her. I was only a few seconds behind her but…" He trailed off, eyes looking away from both his friends who looked shocked.

"Jesus." Sarah sighed, hands running through her hair. "Fine, but only Harry goes to the apartment. She'll close up if we all show up."

Harry sat in your apartment for hours. Pacing the floor as he tried to call and text you over a hundred times. His hands running nervously through his hair as his mind went wild with all the possibilities of what happened to you two.

He called every hospital in the area, none of them could give out any information to him about any patients. Every nurse he talked to suggested getting a hold of you directly but you weren't answering your phone.

He even stooped low enough to have Mitch call your parents, trying to see if maybe they had talked to you. He even stalked your Instagram account to find your sister and messaged her to see if she had heard from you.

She hadn't.

And as he sat on your coffee table in your empty apartment, his heart felt like it was in pieces. He ran out of options and he was starting to wonder if he'd ever see you again when the front door opened.

"Y/N?" He asked, his head shooting up but when he saw the man walking through the door his heart fell.

"You must be the boyfriend." Your dad sighed, closing the door behind him.

"Uh, yeh, I'm her boyfriend, Harry. Who are you?" Harry asked, getting up from the coffee table, hands nervously clenching by his side.

"I'm Leo, Y/N's dad." He said, walking into the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets.

"Oh. Have y'heard from her? How are they?" Harry asked, eyebrows pinching together wondering what the hell your dad was doing going through your shit.

"Ah, should have known she keeps it where I keep mine. Like father, like daughter, I guess." He smiled softly as he pulled the whiskey from the cabinet above the refrigerator.

"Figured you'd need this before I told you how she was doing." He sat a glass in front of Harry, filling both of them up.

Harry's eyes darting from his glass to your dad. Wondering how bad it had to be in order to need alcohol to hear it.

"I'm serious." He nudged the drink closer to Harry before taking a swig from his own glass.

"Right." Harry took the glass drinking the whole thing down in one go. Cringing from the burning sensation.

"She has a concussion, mild, so that's not too bad but the broken nose is going to have to have surgery to fix and her fractured eye socket is making her left eye swell shut. They had to stitch up her eyebrow that he split open and her hands have to be bandaged up for a while." He rested his hands against your kitchen counter, sighing as he looked at his half full glass.

"Jesus..." Harry said, biting the inside of his cheek. "How's Thea? She's okay, right?"

"Thea's good. Just a bump on her head. The welt on her cheek looks terrible but it'll go away."

Silence filled the room as Harry took in all the information. You were at least alive and talking to your parents which made his anxiety calm down a little bit. Knowing you both were okay made him feel slightly better but he couldn't understand why you didn't shoot him a text or call, hell he'd settle for smoke signals or pigeon at this point.

"Why isn't she answering my calls?" He sighed, hands covering his face, trying to not go crazy with all the questions he was asking himself.

Why did you run from him?

He loves you. Why couldn't you let him help you?

"Y/N's good at pushing people away." Leo sighed walking around the counter and pulling up a seat next to Harry. His hands and eyes fixed on his glass of whiskey.

"Yeh, I know." Harry scoffed, pouring himself another glass. He had a feeling he'd need it if he had to talk about how much you seemed to want to push him away.

One second he felt like he was finally breaking through. The next you were literally running away from him.

"She gave you a key though. I can tell you she doesn't do that for just anyone. I don't think Mitch has a key and he's the only friend she's managed to not chase off." Your dad smiled slightly, thinking back to all the shit you and Mitch used to get up to when you were kids.

There wasn't a house in the neighborhood safe from your TPing days.

"I don't understand how I can be there for them when she's constantly running away." Harry sighed, staring a hole into his drink. Lips pursed as he debated how he could convince you he'd always be around if you let him.

"You know, her mom was like that too when I met her. She was in this really bad relationship before me. I think Y/N was a little bit older than Thea when I met them. Her biological father was exactly like Ryan. Except stuff that happened today well… that was their normal. It took her a long time to get over it." He paused, staring off at your refrigerator before taking the last drink from his glass.

"History has a fucked up way of repeating itself, I guess." He sighed, head hanging down.

"Wait, y'not her real dad?" Harry asked, turning to your dad. He'd never asked you much about your family. He knew the basics but beyond that, he never asked anything else. You just always said you had great parents and an annoying but pretty cool when she wanted to be, little sister.

"Oh no, I am her real dad. Maybe not her biological dad but I'm her dad." Leo smiled, looking over to Harry, turning on his chair to get a better look at him.

"Oh." Harry's eyebrows pinched together tightly. He didn't want to offend him but he was so confused. Why had you never told him about any of this?

"Being a dad is more than just genetics. Thea will figure that out just like Y/N did." Your dad smiled at Harry which just confused him more. His bright green eyes fixating on the glass in front of him.

"And Y/N, she runs away from people who love her. She'd rather be lonely than vulnerable but I got a feeling that she'd open up to you if you'd give her time."

"Y'think?" Harry asked as he finally looked up from his glass to your still smiling dad. He looked like someone who had something figured out way before everyone else, so pleased with himself.

"Yeah, I do. Pretty sure they already chose you. You just don't realize it yet." His hand clasped on Harry's shoulder, shaking him gently back and forth.

"Whaddya mean?" His brows seemed to be permanently knitted together, so confused about why your dad looked so pleased in the middle of a terrible situation.

"That's a nice picture on the fridge Thea drew." He gestured towards your refrigerator, Harry's eyes darting across the room landing on a picture Thea had drawn for you.

It was you, Thea, and Harry all holding hands. A big heart encapsulating all three of you.

"Notice how it has you instead of Ryan? And how that's on her fridge along with all those pictures of you three? But not a single photo or drawing of him?" Your dad asked, Harry's eyes widening like he finally was seeing for the first time.

You'd let him in all along, just in the only way you knew how.

"It's 'cause they've already picked you." Your dad hummed out, pleased with himself as he stood up from your kitchen counter, leaving Harry to stare at all memories you guys had made.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Horikoshi: This will probably not be super popular, but it’ll be fun!

Us: Oh, well that sounds nice!

Us, 290 chapters later: This Isn’t Fun Anymore Horikoshi

Horikoshi: :)

Anyways, welcome to the beginning of - hopefully - a long term and engaging project. I am basically aware of all of canon, and am up to date with the manga, but I haven’t actually read from the beginning of the series, and I’ve only watched the series up to the Deku v Todo fight in the sports festival. However, I’ve been curious as to how the manga portrays stuff that I’ve seen in anime gif form, and so I figured, hey, make this a project!

If you have questions or anything, the ask box is open for now. Meanwhile, I am going to head into the first chapter proper!

[No. 1 - Izuku Midoriya: Origin]

Wow, you’d almost think this kid would grow up to be a villain or something, with that kind of attitude, huh? No way that this kind of attitude would ever come to bite him in the ass and force him to reevaluate his entire character and kickstart his character development.

(Before you say anything, I like Katsuki as a character, but DAMN did he have to do a lot of growing up. I suppose when one is at the bottom, the only way to go is up… unless you have a pickaxe.)

One thing I actually noticed right away, and I dunno how much it’s used in other manga (seeing as I currently am not reading any other manga and the last ones I read were… a long while ago…) is the shape of the text boxes in order to convey emotion! It’s actually hella neat and a little detail I wouldn’t think about adding if I were in his position (not that I can draw all that well, but that’s not my point). You can practically hear the warbling in Izuku’s tone and the rougher edges in Katsuki’s!

(Also, question for the English sub while we’re at it, why the fuck does Katsuki sound like he’s a goddamned adult when he’s fourteen. What the fuck.)

Interesting little thing here, Katsuki not actually using his quirk here against Izuku; his hand is trailing smoke from his explosion, but it’s not a direct burn wound. Not that he should be doing this at all, but with the number of fics I see where Katsuki literally gives Izuku second or third degree burns, I think this is a reminder that canon Katsuki has some modicum of restraint, even this early.

Before I forget, hello winged kid who definitely has no plot significance whatsoever. No siree.

(If you are new to the manga/show and are reading this as among your first introductions to the fandom, first off, I am so sorry. Secondly, expect me to be… definitely making a lot of sarcastic quips to things in the future.)

Onto the second/third page, which is supposed to be a full spread, but is split up into two pages on the online reading site. RIP, but I will not complain about free access to the whole manga. 

Lookit this green bean. I love him so much. I can’t wait for him to suffer.

Izuku: wait, what?

Anyways, a few things to note:

Who the fuck is this guy? I looked into the wiki but he apparently doesn’t warrant a page or even a mention as one of the background faces of the series, but look at that fucking claw, man! And those boots and jets! He’s very obviously themed after a baseball catcher, so I’m going to guess that he has some kind of quirk that deals with either drawing projectiles to him, or perhaps in throwing projectiles… in either case, it’d be something like Snipe’s quirk, so maybe this is his less howdy-happy sibling.

Oh right, the chapter. The other heroes we see on the scene in this two-page spread are Death Arms, Air Jet, and Kamui Woods. 

Also, something I want to point out that I’m sure others have but just struck me while looking at this spread - multiple people are recording / taking pictures of this. I wonder if part of the reason for the villain industry to be as strong as it is is because the villains, even if they know they’ll lose, still get their own sort of fame in being in the news? That… might explain a lot about how there can be enough villains to even run an entire damn industry.

(Well, that and a lot of sociopolitical commentary on BNHA society, but we don’t need to get into that now. Maybe wait two hundred or so chapters first.)

Not gonna lie, I had to double take because I was like ‘wait, what is Ochako doing here?’ but then I realized it was just a random civilian; she doesn’t have those side bangs Ochako does. But now I almost wonder what sort of world we could have had, if they’d met a bit earlier.

Onto the fifth page (fourth is just a filler page, nothing on it), and we get treated to this gem:

Tag yourself I’m the guy who’s slackjawed because his kid is fucking glowing.

The first four examples of quirks shown in this flashback are the luminescence, telekinesis, ice, and that flame-headed(?) mutation. Of them, we actually see hints to the fact that quirks have drawbacks, as the girl with ice is drawn with the same frostbite backlash as Shouto, while the flame-headed kid is… well, I have no idea, but they do not look to be happy.

Also, I love the nod Hori does to the heroes of our era as silhouettes! This is just more evidence to me, along with the fact that the first quirked kid is born and presented in a modern hospital, that this series takes place sometime in the future. I… even calculated the years it could technically be, based on information we get in a few chapters, but I’ll save that for then.

Onto the sixth page! A nice shot of Kamui Woods getting into position, and man is that giant quirk unnerving.

What the fuck is with those feet, Hori. Those aren’t feet.

Next we see how the crowds are reacting, basically with no panic or concern. One guy is just casually letting his boss know he’ll be getting in late. And Backdraft! That is some serious water manipulation, but it seems like it has to be the water they’re in contact with? Also, is it just me or is that a portable pressure hose on their back?

And of course, Izuku being excited over hero stuff, as one does. He’s so babey faced, going back to current chapters after this is gonna be fucking wild.

Onto the seventh page, and here we are with the ‘you’re pure evil’ speech to someone who’s… just a robber. Seriously, dude? I get that you’re still fairly new to the scene (I think he might not be from a hero high school, but a late join program, but that’s another post), but like. You can’t just call random people ‘pure evil’ and correlate petty crime with like, actual mass murderers, or else people might start to see things in black and white and, you know, create the idea of ‘villainous people’ and so push even more innocents down the path of desperation and criminality.

Wait, sociopolitics later. Izuku being a hero fanboy now. Even able to utter Kamui’s attack call as he’s calling it out, with some seriously cool visual effects-

And on the eighth page, we have Mt. Lady crash the scene. Literally. She just fucking shows up outta nowhere and fucking leaps up and delivers a kick right to the villain’s chin, throwing him back through the train bridge wall and sending debris down to the ground below. Sure hope there weren’t civilians there!

Also, hello to that random guy on the roof watching this. I think in Smash they made that guy her manager or something.

I love how Izuku and the other guy are like ‘what the fuck’ while the press just shows up out of nowhere and is like. Hyperfocused on her. (I’ve heard some issues with the portrayal of media/reporters in the series, but since I have no experience with that sort of thing, I can’t say much on it.)

The last panel of this page shows that, fortunately, there were no civilians on that part of the street (even though it being rush hour and the huge crowds on the other side of the bridge should have suggested otherwise… but what do I know?)

With page nine, we get to see our first case of villain apprehension, which to note does not include any sort of quirk suppressors. Because those don’t exist. Otherwise Aizawa and the Eight Precepts’ erasure bullets would not be such huge deals to everyone. I mean yikes, though, the guy is fucking muzzled. And you can see the damage done by Mt. Lady in the background, both physical and emotional. Not to mention…

What the fuck is that face.

But yeah, this notes that performance in heroics determines not only what they’re paid by the government, but also how much fame they get. No way a system like this could backfire in any capacity, right? Right? (cough).

I love how Hori uses Izuku’s muttering habit as the border for the text bubble when the kid zones into his little world. Also, gigantification is noted to be a common and strong quirk, so we really should see more OCs with size altering quirks in fics in the future, you hear me? Honestly, with it being common, I would almost expect there to be entire buildings, or maybe even neighborhoods / blocks dedicated to catering to size shifters… wonder what those places look like.

Also aww, the guy saying good luck on the heroics dream to Izuku and Izuku just sparkling. What a cutie. Can’t wait for him to suffer. :D

Izuku: No seriously, what-

Anyways, I’m cutting off here since we then transition into the next ‘scene’ and this is a long chapter - 55 pages! Besides, this has already surpassed 1700 words, I don’t need to ramble on too long in one post. 

Lemme know what you think, and I’ll be back with more soon!

[brideofcthulhu10]

Could you please do a lost boys scenario where s/o is babysitting overnight and the boys show up for some late night lovin 👀 please

Can do, my friend! First off I want to apologize to everyone right now for the slow in my posts, I’m literally pushing my way through a writers block right now, so I apologize if it comes out a little choppy. I am doing everything I can to make sure I can still push out at least one reply a day. I still have the childbirth post and the prejudice witches post in progress, so bear with me! Until then:

Lost Boys Visit Their Fem!S/O While Babysitting 

18+ CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Situations and Themes, Mild Offensive Language

David

Happy wasn’t exactly the word to describe the sour grimace your boyfriend made when you told him you wouldn’t be on the boardwalk for the weekend.

“What do you mean? You aren’t going anywhere, are you,” he asked, arms crossed. 

“Oh stop with the suspicions!” You rolled you eyes, stealing his cigarette from his mouth for a quick puff. “No, I’m not leaving Santa Carla. My aunt has to go on this dumb business trip and her sitter cancelled last minute. So, my mom volunteered me to watch my two younger cousins.”

David scrunched up his nose at the mention of you babysitting to little brats. So for an entire two and a half days he wouldn’t see you? 

“Well what am I going to do,” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You giggled, blowing a small puff of smoke his way. 

“C’mon, you’ve had a few decades without me,” you teased, kissing him. “I’m sure you can handle two days with just the boys right?”

Apparently not. 

When you were dropped off with your aunt’s you were met with a barrage of foam bullets to the face. Cue several hours of trying to wrangle the twin boys to do ANYTHING other than bug you. Water balloons, nerf darts, stealing the phone out of your hand! Eventually you were tempted to spike their apple juice with sleeping pills, but after letting them devour a pizza and run outside like psychos, and finally they passed out on the couch. Now, the task of carrying two 8 year olds up a flight of stairs.

“I... hate.. my...life,” you huffed with both of them hanging off of you. The shorter one was grasping your hair until it was practically being yanked out of your scalp while the other drooled all over you. Too bad you couldn’t toss them in the back yard, the little animals! No, you laid them in their beds much to your frustration. Half awake you sighed, trudging back down the stairs for a quick snack before bed. 

Change of plans when you heard the familiar roar of a revving motorcycle, and you made a mad dash to lock the door. He better not show up tonight! If those twerps woke up you’d be in so much trouble, there’s was no about of bribes to keep them quiet! There wasn’t much of a point to locking him out, because as soon as you turned around there David was, lounging on the couch. 

“You are unbelievable,” you huffed, arms crossed. 

The vampire only shrugged, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I got bored after we went hunting,” he sighed, laying back like a lazy cat. You wove through the living room over to him, and before you could even lecture him he yanked you down on top of him.

“David, come on! You are going to get me in so much trouble,” you whined, trying to sit up. “I promise on Monday I’ll make it up to you.”

David leaned his head back, pondering your offer. Another day of waiting? Pass.

“Tell you what, kitten,” he purred, lifting your chin. “I get to play with you, and I’ll go.”

Your entire face turned red. “Are you nuts,” you whisper-yell, smacking his chest. He simply shrugged, laying back again with you tightly grasped against him. “David, I am not-! What if they wake up?”

“Those are my terms, kitten. Take it or leave it.” 

His gloved hands ran over butt, kissing up the edges of your neck. He kept whispering sweet words in your ears sending chills throughout your body. From your backside he slid his fingers further rubbing at your entrance between your pants. You started to squirm, caught in his grasp as he turned your legs into jelly. “Okay.. j-just please keep quiet,” you beg. 

“It seems the only one making noise is you, baby,” David teased, lightly biting your neck. Teasing you was all fine and dandy, but he wanted to get to the meat of it. With one firm hand, he yanked your shorts off and raised you on top of his lap. It didn’t take long for him to thrust inside you, hands tightly grasping your wrists in place so he could watch you bouncing atop his lap. Your voice trembled, little whimpers escaping out no matter how hard you tried to stay silent.

 “Come now, we mustn’t wake the children,” he teased, rocking his hips against your own savoring those adorable little moans. He yanked you down onto his throbbing length, wrapping his hand behind the back of your neck and yanking you down again. You buried your face into his chest hoping it’d be enough to silence your moans. Again he slammed inside you until your eyes started rolling back, filling you with a rush of heat. Your thighs spasmed, still clinging to his shirt. David simply chuckled after reducing you to a panting mess, licking up the side of your neck. “Well, I guess I could wait a day for you to get off of babysitting duty.”

Dwayne 

A late night without you never was an option. When you told him you'd have to babysit your neighbor's five year old son, he immediately offered to join you. Now you weren't exactly supposed to have guests over, but you couldn't help but make an exception for him. Besides, bed time was at 7 o'clock anyway, you were certain he'd be asleep by the time Dwayne showed up. You weren’t exactly surprised when rather than knocking he just sort of appeared in the kitchen, but things didn't exactly go as planned. See, you had only met this boy maybe three times, he was either with his parents or off at daycare during weekdays. At neighborhood gatherings or barbecues you didn’t exactly interact with the younger kids, and any free time outside of that was spent with Dwayne and the other boys on the boardwalk. Sure, you had babysat kids before. It was the easiest way to scratch up some spending money. But your younger brother was nothing like this spaz! Even after a trip to the park, a bath, dinner and playtime he was still running around like he had been hopped up on sugar for the past two hours! Any time you told him to calm down he’d just tune you out or try to run away. Dwayne showing up was the first moment of peace you’d had since you came here, just plopping the tiny monster on the couch with a sippy cup of warm milk hoping that’d be enough to calm him down.

“I honestly don’t think that kid has heard the word ‘no’ before in his life,” you groaned at the table, trying to soothe your headache with a cup of coffee.

 Dwayne raised a brow, leaning over to see the tiny terror jumping up and down on the couch screaming the theme song to Transformers while it played on their television set. “Well you could always just put him in his room and lock the door until he passes out,” he suggested with a smirk, sliding into the chair beside you. 

You snickered, lightly elbowing him with your arm. “God I wish. Got any vampire secrets? You had to have had trouble getting Laddie to sleep at some point, right?”

“Well,” he started, leaning back in his chair with a hum to his tone. “There is one way, but you might not like it.”

“I’ll do anything to get that monster to sleep. Just.. don’t hurt him, kay?”

Dwayne chuckled and kissed beneath your ear, lightly nipping your earlobe. “Relax, I’m not gonna eat him or anything.When he slunk into the living room you peered around the corner watching him squat lower so he was looking right into the boys eyes. This was definitely the first time he had been still all night, just staring back while Dwayne whispered to him with gleaming red eyes. CLimbing down the little boy walked past you.

“Good night, Miss Y/N,” he mumbled softly, handing you his sippy cup before silently shuffling up the stairs to his room. You looked over at Dwayne with your mouth open in awe, setting the cup on the table as he waltzed into the kitchen. “Okay, you have to stay the night,” you insisted, leaning against the counter. “What even was that?”

“Just a trick David and I have picked up after a few decades.” He swept behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder, brushing his mouth over the crook of your neck. “Truthfully I could use it on you, but I find that your own will is far more preferable.”

“Well,” you began, slowly turning to face him. “Lucky me.”

You trailed your lips slowly across his, stealing away small pecks from him. Each kiss deepened into something more, his hands trailing up your waist until he firmly hoisted you onto the kitchen counter. His tongue traced over yours in spirals, massaging his hands over your butt with the other trailing up your shirt tracing over the tiny lace detailing in your bra. Chills ran down your neck as his fingers dipped into your bra playing gentle with your tender pink buds. You moaned into his mouth, barely able to catch your breath as you slung your arms around him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Dwayne,” you moan softly, pressing your chest into his calloused palms. It was dizzying being under his thumb. He knew every curve of your body, every tender space that made you melt. Shedding your shirt you quickly kicked off your shorts, Dwayne lifting you up in his arms. You could hear his belt buckle clink against itself while he scooted your panties to the side. You’d think by now you’d be internally prepared for how he felt inside you, but every time he would stretch you further than before. Waves of heat burned your body, falling into his grasp becoming a moaning mess. You struggled to keep yourself quiet, crashing your lips into his. Those rough, heavy grunts he made drove you crazy, you knew what was coming the faster he groaned. He bucked into you, grasping your butt tightly slamming himself into you one last time. The sensation made you shriek, quickly he covered your mouth. There was an awkward silence that caused you both to laugh, kissing each other softly. “Well, I’m uh,” you panted out, still clinging to him “,..I still have a day and a half here...if you wanna stay with me… All I have to do is keep the curtains shut..”

Dwayne pondered your idea with a grin, smothering your cheek with sandpaper kisses. “I guess the guys won’t mind if I’m gone for a little longer.”

Paul 

“Forget it, Paul!”

You crossed your arms, your blonde vampire boyfriend on his knees still begging you to let him come with.

“Oh come on, babes,” he whined, hugging your leg. “You’ll be halfway across town for four days! I’ll never make it!”

“No way! Last time you came to my house my brother totally saw us in the pool,” You exclaimed, gathering up your jacket and purse. “Paul please, I promise when I get back we can fuck till the ocean dries up if it makes you happy. But my parents got really suspicious the last time my brother kept talking about me ‘wrestling with a lion’ in the pool. It took an hour for me to convince my dad I was trying to fish the neighborhood cat out of the jacuzzi and B/N just thought it was a lion because he was half-awake!”

Paul groaned, lifting you up into his arms and flopping onto the dusty old couches, hugging you tight. It certainly made you laugh, but you knew that your parents were leaving in an hour. “Uuuugh! Can’t you even say tonight, kitten? C’mon I’ll even skip the hunt tonight, just you and me baby girl.”

“I know you want me to stay babe, I do too. Trust me, I’d rather be out here with you guys,” you sigh, kissing up his neck until he slowly melted beneath you. Ironically his neck was always his weakness when you wanted him all buttered up. “But, I mean, my mom and dad leave in an hour, plus I gotta pick up something quick for dinner, and I promised I’d do laundry- plus I still have my biology project before summer finishes. Besides, it’s only a couple days right?”

“Yeah, a couple days without the most badass babe in Santa Carla,” he groaned, hoisting himself up trying to grab you before you got up. No luck this time. You dodged his grip and quickly stole a kiss from him.

“I’ll see you in a bit, babe. It’ll be over in no time,” you assured him. 

It had only been two hours since you left, and the entire time Paul was sulking on the exact same couch you both had been on. He jutted out his bottom lip in a pout, fiddling with the skull ring on his thumb you bought him last month. Marko did everything he could to cheer his buddy up. Beer, a bike ride, offering to go on a hunt! Anything!

 “C’mon man, it’s a few days! Let’s go terrorize the locals! Dwayne and David wanna head out too, dude! We can shred up a few losers and crash here after!”

Nope. Paul wasn’t in the mood, rolling over onto his stomach, face down on the couch.

“Blood tastes like sadness,” he whined, thumping his forehead on the cushions.

“This is ridiculous, just go to her already,” David spoke up, chucking a book at him.

“No way, man!” Paul sat up, ruffling up his blonde hair. “If Y/N catches me she’ll be pissed!”

Marko leaned on his buddy with a smirk. “Not if you use her weaknesses against her. C’mon man, we’ve seen you two.”

“Yeah man, she’s my weakness-”

“- And you, are definitely hers dude. Trust me.”

Paul paused for a moment, then a wicked grin spread across his face. 

Meanwhile, there you were cleaning up the dishes from dinner, your younger brother securely tucked in his room. This time you hid the cookies, just to be sure if he got up there would be nothing for him to stick his grubby little hands into. Well, it was 4 am, it was time to crash. You circled through the house checking all the locks and shut the curtains, and now it was time to head to your room. Up the stairs, to the left just past the guest room, stepping over your clothes and snatching a night dress. You paused, seeing the double extra large Warrant T-Shirt Paul bought you during last year’s concert. He found the perfect one, a “Cherry Pie” album art on the front with the back reading “She’s My Cherry Pie”. It was your favorite song from the album, and he started nicknaming you as such. You preferred one that was super huge, the perfect size for bedtime! With your own rock box on full blast you sang along to Def Leppard in the shower, unaware you had left your window wide open.

You waltzed out, turning off the music and throwing on your shirt and wiggling on a pair of leopard print panties. Your steps slowed once you stepped into your room, curtains blowing in the breeze

“Damn that looks good on you.”

You screamed, nearly falling back to see Paul leaning against your wall looking down at you. “Paul,” you hissed, smacking his arm when he laughed. “It is NOT funny, I told you that you couldn’t come over!”

“But I wanted to.” You expected it to come out whiny. But instead, he was firm. This wasn’t he was asking you, he was telling you. “I wanted you baby… I need you”

You took a step back, only to have him push you back on your bed. As soon as you were down he was on top of you. “I can’t… stay away, kitten. I know you’re mad, but I just can’t.”

He ran his hands all over you, pressing his hand tightly against your panties rubbing at your clit until you were a moaning mess. “Please kitten,” his voice trembled in a heavy husk, licking at your neck “, Don’t send me away.” 

It was impossible to resist him. Clothes were thrown off, Paul pinned you down by your throat and held you up by your ass. It was fast, hungry, he thrusted over and over inside you. He leaned down holding up one of your legs so he could be closer. His moans were so loud, they rattled in your ears. You couldn’t even tell what were your whines and his roaring moans. There were mischievous chuckles, Paul could help but thrive watching you melt beneath him. “Moan, kitten. Call my name, tell me how badly you want it.”

“Paul! Paul… Paul please- d-don’t stop! More, please!” 

“There’s my pussy cat,” he growled, slamming all the way to the back of your womb until a sharp throb sent a wave inside you, spilling out onto the mattress. He panted, leaning over you with his hair falling in your face. 

“You.. are such.. A brat!” You managed to catch your breath, slapping his arm.

“I told you four days is too much,” he snickered, laying his naked body on top of you.

You huffed, still stuck under him. There was no kicking him out, he’d just pop up again. “Fine, but you get to sleep in the laundry cabinet in the hallway with all the dirty clothes.”

  “Ahhh so worth it,” Paul snickered

Marko

Well movie night went off without a hitch, just as expected. The boardwalk had a beach movie tonight at the amphitheater, tonight was a classic- Attack of the Killer Tomatoes! Marko savored you nestled in his arms, your giggle giving him life. You two shared an extra large jumbo pretzel with jalapeno cheese dip snickering as a guy was run over by a bulbous red orb. You glanced at your watch. Oh shit, 7:45.

“Shit, baby I’m so sorry, I gotta head out,” you quickly apologized, throwing on your jacket.

“Wait wait wait, what,” Marko asked, watching you tip toe over the sand onto the boardwalk. “Baby girl hold on, wait up!” 

You paused, waiting for him to catch up onto the boardwalk. Oh right, you forgot to tell him! “Shoot, Marko I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” You groaned, smacking the base of your palm into your forehead. “My mom and Dad left for two days, and my Auntie can only watch my brother until 8pm so I have to go watch him tonight.”

”You’re kidding me,” Marko groaned, knocking his head back. “C’mon baby girl, can’t I at least give you a ride back?”

The offer was sweet, but there was a roadblock. Your aunt was incredibly strict, your older cousin was twenty and still had to ask for approval when they dated new people. If she saw you riding up to the driveway on a stripped down motorcycle with your street punk boyfriend and she’d definitely pitch a fit to your parents. Granted you were sure that your mom and dad would love Marko if they met him, but hearing from someone else that your daughter is riding around the city unprotected with a biker punk with long hair may cause some premeditated negative judgement. “I can’t. But it’s only for the night, babe, I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assured him, taking his gloved hand into yours. “Meet me here, same time tomorrow? I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

Marko sighed with a half smile, stealing a kiss from you. “You bet baby girl. Go ahead.” 

He leaned against his bike, half-waving at you as you trotted away. Paul returned to his bike with a soda in hand watching you run off while Marko waved.

“Hey dude, your date over already,” he asked, leaning over his shoulder.

Marko only smirked, biting at his thumb with a devious plan concocting in his head. “Mnah, I’m goin’ to her place a little later. I’ll catch up with you guys later, man.”

Your brother had already finished his homework and had dinner, it was just getting him to bed at this point. Once your aunt left you two hopped into the kitchen for a big ol’ bowl of popcorn and crashed on the couch for a quick video game marathon. You kicked his butt at Mario Brothers, and after a few hours he was out like a light. It was a pain in the butt carrying him down the hall to his room, flopping him onto the bed with a sigh. “Night, dork,” you softly teased, ruffling his hair. Okay, bed time.

You decided to finish the night out with a nice warm shower, tossing a bra and shorts on the back of the toilet. “Oooh,” you harmonized to yourself, kicking off pants, bra, panties. The warm water was so soothing, it pulled a satisfied hum from your throat. Slowly you ran your hands up your legs checking for any, going over any rough patches with a razor for that silky smooth finish. You paused for a moment, halfway through washing down your body when you could hear your dog, D/N, barking outside. On your tiptoes, you peeked out the bathroom window inside your shower meant to ease the steam plumes, watching him bounce, snarl, tugging at his leash. Lowering your feet down you gave a pause. There was no one outside. No one downstairs, and the doors downstairs were locked but… your bedroom window was left open

“Marko?”

“Polo,” the blonde exclaimed as he hung his head upside down from your window frame. 

You stuck your head out of your shower curtain, blowing a frustrated huff out of your nostrils. “Marko, I’m in the shower. You couldn’t handle me being gone for half a day?”

Marko chuckled and swung down, hanging his legs through your window into your room. “What can I say,” he teased, hopping down. “You’re irresistible baby girl.”

While you tried to finish up he waltzed around your room, peeking into books, staring at framed photos, until he had an even better idea. Kicking off his boots he waltzed into the bathroom, able to see your naked form just behind that (print) shower curtain. “You look awfully lonely in there~”

You couldn’t tell if you were blushing from the heat or the suggestion of showering with him, but either way you were utterly flusters. “But what about the water- Will it.. I mean?”

“Holy water, baby girl. I’m a vampire, not the Wicked Witch of the West. Normal water isn’t going to hurt me,” he insisted, shedding his jacket. 

You could hear the heavy leather slip to the floor. A deep breath dragged in, your heart racing. “Go ahead.”

The curtain rings made a metallic shhhrrrk, but you didn’t turn around as Marko stepped inside the stall with you. You could feel his hands trace up your exposed back sending a wave of goosebumps through your flesh. Slowly he pried your arms away from your torso and down to your side, sliding his hands around your waist.

 His blonde hair clung to the sides of his neck, water pelting against cold flesh soon pressed up against you from behind. “Glad I came in.. can’t remember the last time I’ve had a shower,” Marko teased. His slippery hands teased your lower half. He dipped his fingers past your lips rubbing at your entrance until they slipped inside with ease inciting a high pitched moan from you. They hooked inside you, prodding at the most tender parts until you fell forward, using the wall in front of your beneath the shower head as a support. Marko savored the image of you bent over in front of him, gently kicking your feet apart. “Promise me you won’t be quiet, baby girl,” he moaned softly in your ear. When his fingers pulled out, something else pushed in. The sensation filled a hot pressure inside you, Marko grasping the back of your neck for leverage. The entire room echoed with your cries, fluids lost beneath the water. The sensation made your legs weak, Marko’s grasp barely keeping you up. He held you close to his body thrusting further inside you, kissing your ear whispering tender words that made you weak. Secrets, three little words too quiet for anyone but you to hear. The tension in your waist spread, tighter and tighter like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. You cried out Marko’s name knocking your head back into his chest when something hot filled your insides. There was a moment of silence when you two caught your breath, the shower’s water washing away any evidence. When you couldn’t move Marko lifted you into his arms, carrying you out carefully to your room. Somehow you both managed to get dressed before collapsing onto your bed together- not before sealing the windows, of course.

[gyllenhaalstories]

TOMORROW NEVER CAME (time to dance part 2)

SUMMARY: you met with this stranger at the bar a little while ago. things went intense, intensely fast. it was an encounter you would never forget and his final words before walking away, leaving you standing in this cold winter wind have yet to stop resonating in your mind. as you start to believe you will never cross paths with this myserious man and his killer, icy blue eyes, life has other plans.

WARNINGS: mentions of smoking, knives, alcohol, violence, a bunch of dark stuff, smut (d/s dynamic, spanking, rough intercourse)

WORD COUNT: 1 742

NOTES: reminder when i watched CAMERAS FOLLOWING JAKE AROUND DURING A NORMAL DAY and i also stumbled upon THIS AMAZING GIFSET ? i’m back, with a sequel no one asked for! i didn’t proof read it yet but i’ll read it later and correct some mistakes. thank you for reading i hope you’ll enjoy it! 

 You came home from work late, that day. You hated closing the place and working at the last shifts. You were not the easiest person to scare out there, but there was something about winter nights that terrified you. Bulgars could storm in at any moment. Roads could get icy and a car could drive straight into the front window and run you over. You could break a leg trying to climb up the dangerous and squeaky stairs to your apartment. You had an endless list of worst-case scenarios, still... You were so ignorant. 

The only thing you had to be afraid of, was that stranger from the bar. You had a gut feeling about him. He was up to no good. A man like that could not simply disappear from your life as abruptly as he entered it. 

Truth be told, Jake had come back to that very bar every evening. He sat at the exact same table as he did when he met you. He had one eye on the door, hoping to see your heady silhouette. His other eye checked the bathroom, in fear that you would walk out of there with someone else. He waited patiently, hope devouring his soul. He told himself you would be there tomorrow. 

Tomorrow never came. 

He walked out of the bar on a gloomy night and he looked around, waiting for a car to pass by so he could cross the street and go back to his business. He had spotted that annoying duo of friends, who ordered so many rounds of shots it was a miracle they were still standing up. They terrorized the lonely girls at the bar and he was not having any of it. His hands were buried in his pocket, tightly wrapped around the handles of two small knives. All he had to do was to get a little closer... 

Jake looked to his left and his eyes, empty and cold, widened. 

You had your earmuffs around your head and you stared at the ground, trying to avoid any ice spots and an inevitable bone fracture. Your nose and cheeks turned pink from the cool breeze and you bopped your head to the music blasting through your covered earbuds. You did not hear the honks and the loud shoutings, not even your feet breaking the thin layer of ice as you walked up the stairs to your apartment, just the sound of your favorite music. 

The entire time, he watched you. He dragged himself around, following your path from a safe distance. His heart was beating loud, so loud it was deafening. He slid the hoodie of his jacket on his head and followed you. He recognized your neighborhood, he had been around this part of town before. Memories of that night when you smashed the skull of a random guy on the concrete made him grin. 

You took your coat and your accessories off, kicking your shoes on the small mat by the door and made your way to the fridge to drink orange juice straight from the carton. It was only then you stopped your music and decided to head to your bedroom. You did not even know what time it was, and the only thing that mattered was meeting with your beloved bed. You took other pieces of clothing off and decided you’d sleep in your tank top and panties. Your hand grabbed the bedsheets and swung them away, making room for yourself. It was only then you looked up at the walls and noticed a shadow. 

It was long, slim, dark. Heavy breathing echoed from behind you as you slowly, very slowly, turned around. Your jaw dropped open, ready to scream for help, but instead, you went silent. You recognized these features, this body, these arms and these hands that moved you around like a rag doll in that bathroom stall. “What the fu—” you exclaimed, but he spoke before you.

“I won’t hurt you.” 

And you believed him, which made of you the biggest dumbass on the planet. A stranger whom you only met once snuck into your house, your bedroom, and you were trusting him with your life. Quite literally. Oh, the things one person could do for a good fuck... 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all this time.” 

You studied him. He had removed his jacket, but his hands were still hidden in the pockets of his jeans. You could swear his glance softened when your eyes met his, his shoulders almost relaxing. There was something about this mysterious man that made you feel safe, and you hated yourself for it. “Get out of here.” You told him, your voice practically shaking. 

“I have one of these too.” His chin pointed at the yellow plastic bird on your last stand. 

It was some stupid toy a child gave you when he went to your work place, to thank you for bringing him paper and crayons to draw with when his family and him waited for their food. You looked at the toy, then at the man, in back and forth movements. He was smiling. Smiling.

“You wore that with me the other night, right?” His index finger pointed at your crotch area, but his eyes were locked with yours as you nodded. “I like the color. Red.” His smile grew wider, and he stepped a bit closer to you. 

It was unbearable. “Are we going to spend the whole night talking or what?” 

Like a bird of prey, he dove towards you, his lips meeting yours in a violent kiss. He tasted of whiskey and cigarette, two flavors you never thought you would appreciate. You two battled for dominance, and when you teased him as you sucked on his tongue, you felt your entire body being pushed backwards. You hit the cold bed as he hovered you with his broad shoulders. He kissed you again, roughly, and trailed kisses down to your neck on which he sucked, and sucked, and sucked. Satisfied with the color of the bruise, he grabbed parts of your tank top and ripped it open. Another grin appeared on his face as he busied himself with your breasts and nipples.

Your back arched against him, when you felt his teeth grazing on your sensitive buds. It felt as intense as it did the other night, and you were barely getting started. In a blink of an eye, his head was between your legs and his tongue licked your soaking wet panties. Again, he ripped them off your body and threw them on the ground as he helped you wrap your legs around his head. 

You stretched your arms out to grab his hands as he stared at you through hooded eyes. He was nose deep between your wet folds. The moans you made had him painfully hard, but he did not care about it that much. Again, he used his teeth to bite on your clit before he fucked his tongue into your entrance. He dragged his mouth up to your clit then back to your heat again and again until he felt your legs tighten around him. He pushed them towards you as he took you over the edge for the first time. 

You kept your eyes shut as waves of convulsions took over your body. 

He took the opportunity to remove his clothes, showing up his fit body and his hard, thick cock that he stroked slowly. “Ready?” 

The two of you already knew what was coming. And you nodded frantically. “Please, please just fuck me.” 

“Are you always such a good slut?” His laugh echoed in your bedroom as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You felt tight, warm and wet and it dragged the longest groan out of him. 

He pressed on your legs, holding them down and wide open for you to watch just how deep he was fucking you. The skin of your ass slapped with his thighs as he thrusted faster and faster. You did not care that your bed was hitting the wall and that all you could do was scream incoherent pleas and thank you’s. 

The man grabbed your breasts firmly and gave them a few blows of spankings. It made you scream louder, and he was loving it. Without telling you, he pulled out and flipped you over so you were on all fours. His sweaty chest was pressed flat against your back and his mouth rested by your ear. 

You heard all of his moans and his praises about how good your pussy felt around his throbbing cock. He never slowed down the pace, leaving you thinking he was not even human at all. 

“Is that pussy mine?” He spanked your ass once, harder than he ever did. “Huh? Answer me? Whose pussy is this?” 

“It’s yours, fuck! It’s all yours!” You stuttered, earning more spankings. “You fuck me so good! Don’t stop!” 

And he certainly did not. Both of his hands used your ass to hold himself up. You were completely pressed into your bed as he fucked you, even deeper. His balls slapped on your sensitive clit and right when he noticed you started to clench around him, he went to grab your throat with one hand, using the other one to spank your red ass cheek. 

“You gonna give it to me? You gonna prove me you’re my fucking slut?”

And you did. You came so hard around him that no sound escaped from your open mouth. Only seconds after, you felt him emptying himself inside of you. He came in long strokes and stayed still inside of you for a while, admiring how exhausted you were from being slayed this hard. 

*~*~*

Jake panted, when you laid your head on his naked chest. He was pulling the blankets up to cover your bodies. The warm feeling of your legs as you wrapped them around his and of your arm around his waist sent electric shocks through his body.

You pressed a tender kiss on his collarbone and closed your eyes, only for a second. 

“It was so fun.” He said, his voice suddenly became monotonous and low, raspy even. 

You looked up at him, a frown on your forehead. You tensed up against him.

“It’s time for you to burn.” 

“What?”

“You’re gonna be sore, it’s gonna burn.” He genuinely sounded concerned. 

“Will you meet me up here tomorrow?” 

[whattodowithace]

Save Our Souls (Byeongkwan)

Title: Save our Souls

Paring: Byeongkwan (Ace) x Reader

Genre: Spice/superpower AU

Word count: 2618

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

My soul is sold to a demon: no, no, not a literal demon. Rather, a villain. There’s no such thing though, right? Superheroes and villains. That’s what you believed in when you were a kid. That used to be me too. But that’s not how I feel anymore. I don’t know if I believe in a hero, but I believe in villains. Because I grew up with one.

Have you ever watched those movies where the girl has a cute next door neighbor and they fall in love and live happily ever after? Yeah, well, that’s not how me and my neighbor turned out.

Kim Byeongkwan was a quiet boy. Him and his parents moved next door to us when I was in sixth grade. He was shy, and sweet. I had a bit of a crush on him in eighth grade, I will admit. But that soon passed when my parents started inviting him over for dinner sometimes.

His parents were workaholics and he was always stuck at him alone. So my parents would invite him over for dinner, my mom would ask him a million questions. All to which, he would give one word answers or none at all.

After dinner, me and him would sit on the couch together and watch a movie or play a video game. Needless to say, my crush on Byeongkwan faded when I realized we didn’t have much in common.

Then, we grew up. We remained neighbors. He went to the same school as me, but that was all. My life continued on like normal. Then we graduated High School. Byeongkwan’s parents left for overseas work, leaving their son in the old house rent free for who knows how long. While I moved and got my own apartment a few miles away closer to the city of Chicago.

I changed jobs a few times but I was settled in my new job as a teller at a bank. A modest job, I know. I could have gone to collage but didn’t much feel like being weighed down with debt. And I liked my job. I had good friends. My life was good.

Until one night I was awakened to the sound of fists banging on my front door frantically. I sat upright in bed and went to look out the peephole of my door.

I saw a man with battered clothing, his body scratched and bruised and covered in blood. He was barley standing, a pained look on his face. Byeongkwan.

I open my door and Byeongkwan’s eyes lock mine before he crawls inside and lays down on my living room floor, his body shaking and convulsing horribly.

“Byeongkwan, let me call an ambulance” I say, wiping away his sweat drenched hair from his forehead.

Byeongkwan grabs my wrist, stopping me. “Please.” He chokes out, “Don’t. I came to you because you’re the only person I felt I could trust.”

He lays his head back against the carpet as another severe shaking fit takes over his body. His blood soaking my carpet. The veins in his neck popping from his neck as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

I stare down at him, worry filling my chest. Unsure what to do. “What happened to you?” I mumble as I rest my hand on his chest. His skin burning hot.

Then, he stops moving. His entire body relaxes as he eyes close. I freeze, thinking he’s dead. I’m about to call an ambulance anyway when a green light glows through his veins. His entire body lit with the green light. Slowly the light fades, leaving the room dark as my heart thuds against my ribs.  I stare at him, eyes wide. His eyes open suddenly and i back away from him. Suddenly nervous.

Byeongkwan’s eyes are a light, glowing shade of green. His irises look like cat eyes as they lock onto me. Byeongkwan sits up quickly, running a hand through his black sweaty hair.

“Byeongkwan,” I whisper, his eyes darting all over my apartment. “Are you okay?”

Byeongkwan’s eyes meet mine, and a feeling of true fear washes over me. I knew then, before he even spoke to me, he had changed.

“I’m just fine, baby.” He says coolly. A smirk on his lips.

~~~~

That was six months ago. Come to find out, Byeongkwan had been walking home from work one night and a nearby power plant thats on our neighborhood road exploded. Byeongkwan happened to be walking past at that time and the electricity hit his body dead on.

He should have died. Actually, he did die. Until a powerful force entered his body, taking in his weak state and giving him powers. This is what Byeongkwan told me when I asked how he got these sudden powers.

The powers I’m referring to? Teleportation and shapeshifting. But he was also given superhuman strength and an increased  IQ.

But this force giving him these powers, is evil. Slowly the Byeongkwan I grew up with changed. He became more devious, harder to handle. And now, he’s blackmailing me to keep his secret. All the while he steals and commits crime without ever getting caught. The police never even know who did it. Because he can shed his skin like a snake and slither into the night.

Here’s the thing; I’m not a killer. I can’t just turn him in. People with superpowers down live in Chicago or anywhere else in the world. They aren’t real! (This is what I try to reassure myself)

But if I turn him in, he’ll be a lab rat. A subject to thousands of tests for the rest of his life or until they decide he’s more useful dead than alive.

Even if I turn him in, he’s too fast. They will never find him or catch him. And if tell, he can have my family killed in an instant. And I can’t kill myself. I tried that. He found me and caught me before I could jump.

Understand this isn’t sweet Byeongkwan that I grew up with. This is so much different. This Byeongkwan will threaten to kill and you will believe him. Because he flashes you his Cheshire Cat grin that sends chills down your spine and you become afraid. And you believe him.

And this Byeongkwan has entrusted me with known his new found power. So my soul, in a way, is sold to this man. Because for the safety of the human race and my family I cannot tell another living soul who he is or what he is capable of. My devil who I’ve sold my soul to.

But he’s also a guarding angel. Because of his power he can teleport extremely fast. He can be in Jamaica one minute and be by my side the next. This serves him well because I never truly leave his sight. He proved his point when I was leaving work one late night, the streets empty and dark. A few teenagers grabbed me and pulled me into an alleyway, thinking they could have some fun.

Then, there was Byeongkwan. His jaw set and his hands in fists. He beat the teens so badly they could only lay on the pavement and moan. The next minute, Byeongkwan had me in his arms and we were inside my apartment. Safe and sound.

The scary thing; when Byeongkwan was beating those teens, I saw a glint in his eyes. A strange look as if he enjoyed what he was doing. And I don’t think he would have stopped had I not told him to.

He’s my demon on one shoulder. But an angel on the other.

~~~~~

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night with a gut feeling something is wrong? It’s like when you wake up and stare at your desk chair a little too long because your brain is convinced there’s someone sitting in it.

This is the feeling I wake up to. My back is drenched in sweat causing my shirt to stick to my skin. My eyes search my room for the cause of my anxiety.

My balcony window is open, cold Chicago air blowing in, making my currents flap in the breeze. I feel a chill go down my spine when my eyes lock on a pair of bright green eyes in the corner of my room.

“Hi, baby.” Byeongkwan gloats, his voice deep.

I lay back against the pillow. Knowing what he was going to ask next. Every month, Byeongkwan would stop in like this. And he would ask one question, and it was always the same question.

“You haven’t told anyone, right?” He asks as he stand up to full height.

I sigh and press my palms against my eyes. “No. For the millionth time, no.”

Byeongkwan smirks against the moon light, watching me laid out in bed. I let out a gasp when his body weight is suddenly on me, his legs straddling my waist.

“What are you-“ I begin to protest, but Byeongkwan puts a finger to my lips, his face inches from mine.

I watch as his glowing green cat eyes lose their glow, his old eye color returning.

“You’re so good at keeping secrets.” He whispers. His finger trailing down my neck and even further down my chest. The sensation sent a chill up my spine, but at the same time I couldn’t seem to will myself to make him stop.

Byeongkwan smirks at me widely, leaning his head down to my neck before whispering, “Keep up this good behavior and I’ll reward you.”

And then he’s gone. His body vanishes and the only thing I have to prove he was there was the lingering feeling of his smooth skin against mine. My face flushes at his words; my mind spinning with what they could possibly mean.

~~~~~~~

I lay on the couch after a long day at work, my eyes closing from drowsiness. I hadn’t seen Byeongkwan for two months now. I was beginning to think maybe he had left. Maybe I actually had my life back.

I sigh at the thought, hoping that was indeed the case. I lean my head against the plush pillows and feel myself drift off to sleep to peaceful dreams with the TV still on.

At some point, I turn over, my arm going beneath my head. It registers with me that my couch feels surprisingly cold and hard.

I feel a gust of wind run along my neck, blowing my hair onto my face. My eyes come open and I sit up quickly. I’m not home anymore. And I know instantly who moved me without me ever knowing. I’m lying on a concrete floor of a renovated building. With the way the wind is blowing I know I’m on the top floor.

The walls of the building are only boards, a shadow of walls that aren’t yet complete. Plastic wrap hands from the ceiling and flaps in the breeze, casting ghost like shadows across the dark building.

I stand up and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, my heart in my throat. Then, from the wall in front of me, a portal like hole opens up, it’s smoke like appearance twists and turns like a raging thunder storm.

Byeongkwan steps out from the portal, a smirk on his lips, his green eyes boring through mine. He wears a long black trench coat with a white button down shirt underneath it. His hair is slicked back and several rings encase his fingers. I can tell instantly all of them are expensive, but stolen.

“Hello, darling.” Byeongkwan greets, his voice sweet but his smile sinister.

I let out a shaky breath, “Byeongkwan, what do you want?” I ask, trying to keep the shake out of my voice.

Byeongkwan walks slowly over to me, his boots clicking on the concrete floor as he walks.

“I have a confession to make.” He says, his voice deep and his eyes roaming over me.

“Are you actually going to come clean?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my words.

Byeongkwan stops inches in front of me, his green cat eyes searching my face, making me swallow nervously.

“No... but I realized something that I think is important to get out.” He says, stepping a bit closer to me, making my breath hitch.

Byeongkwan leans his head down, his warm breath fanning across my cold cheeks. “I’m of the belief that you’ve bewitched me.” He whispers in my ear.

My eyes widen and I feel my body freeze. Words refusing to leave my throat.

Byeongkwan sees me struggling and chuckles. “Didn’t you know, baby?” Byeongkwan asks, his smirk widening. “I’ve actually had a crush on you since we were young. But the shy me that came to your house was never going to admit that. But now, things are different.”

Byeongkwan wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him, my body flush against his.

A black portal opens up behind him and he pulls us inside. When I open my eyes again we’re back at my place. I lay on my couch like I’ve never left, but Byeongkwan hovers over me, his body weight on mine.

Byeongkwan runs his tongue over his teeth as he stares down at me. A chill going down my spine, but a feeling of desire washing over me as I stare into his powerful green eyes.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Byeongkwan whispers deeply. His hands finding mine as they take my wrists and pin them above my head, making me squeak involuntary.

His nose runs along mine, causing me to lose my breath, his hips pressing against me and pushing me harder into the couch. Byeongkwan runs his nose down my neck, causing goosebumps to rise.

Byeongkwan lets out a breath against my neck, hot air brushing against my skin. His lips meet mine and I feel my eyes close, a feeling of surrender going through me. Not because Byeongkwan is a villain in this world and I’m powerless against  him.  But because I want to surrender to him to see how far this goes.

Byeongkwan lets out a moan against my mouth, his tongue sliding into my mouth before his teeth gently take my tongue and bite it.

Byeongkwan pulls away and bites my jawline, making my back arch involuntarily.

“If I have it my way baby,” Byeongkwan whispers between kisses and breaths, “I will have you moaning my name.”

“Do you always get what you want?” I ask, my breath coming in too fast. My head spinning.

Byeongkwan meets my eyes, his hands leaving my waist to wrap around my waist, my hands going to his toned chest.

“Not always.” Byeongkwan answers as his tongue flicks at my ear. “But this is the only thing that really matters to me.”

I take his face in my hands, my thumbs running across his cheeks, his eyes staring into mine. For the first time in months I feel like I’m not scared of this devil that possessed my life. Rather, I felt drawn to him. Like a forbidden love that was irresistible.

I lean in to kiss his lips but I feel his body slip away from me. He stands in the kitchen doorway, the moonlight from my window highlighting his dark skin.

He must see the let down in my eyes because he smirks at the look in my eyes, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be coming back for you to finish this later.”

He says, before he vanished. Disappearing through the smoke like portal.

My devil with green eyes possessed me. And now I feel like my life is really going to change.

MASTERLIST

[connorspiracy]

Not The Kind of Snacc I Had In Mind || Connor & Luis

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @connorspiracy and @ontheluis  CONTENT: Recreational drug use, NSFW SUMMARY: Connor and Luis decide to meet up after chatting on a dating app and absolutely nothing goes wrong. 

Grindr dates were weird. Connor was far from opposed to a simple shag, but he usually felt like he was supposed to not be so blatant about it, to try and be a gentleman. Was it customary to clean the house before a Grindr hookup came over? He wasn’t sure, but he did what he could to make the place presentable; ran the roomba, made the bed that he was sure would be messed up again pretty soon, lit some Yankee Candles. He’d showered, changed his clothes, brushed his teeth, and was debating starting on a beer when the buzz of the doorbell stirred him from the couch, indicating his date’s arrival. Connor answered, giving the other man a smile in greeting. He’d had no clue this was wolfbane-dude when he’d proverbially swiped right, but seeing the young man in front of him, he put it together. Not that it mattered. He was still certainly curious, but seeing the profile pics come to life before his eyes gave him little desire to revisit that conversation anytime soon. “Hey, Luis, right? Come on in, I was just about to grab a drink if you want one?” 

The cold freshness of the Whye River single lingered in Luis’ nostrils even after the water had dried off his skin and hair. Bathing in the river outside his date’s upscale neighborhood might not exactly be classy, but the brutal pragmatism of Luis’ new life had weaned him off feeling embarrassed about trivial things. Piers’ place reminded Luis of the houses along Boca Chica, eliciting a sharp prick of unwanted remembrance amidst the more arduous thoughts in his head. 

Connor turned out to be just as gorgeous as his profile picture, and Luis had another pang of guilt for placing yet another innocent person in danger of being eaten just for the sake libido and company. But the less human part of Luis brain, the aspect of himself that was all primal instinct and cold pragmatism, didn’t see why that danger should get in the way of shelter, sex, and free food?

The corners of Luis' mouth drew up into a knowing smirk as he closed the door behind him, enjoying the randy tension in the coy game these types of meetups often started. “Sure.” Luis placed his backpack against the wall by the door. “Hey uh....are you the ghostuber dude by the way?” 

If it hadn't already been obvious from the risque Grindr conversation, then the grin tugging at the edges of Luis' lips confirmed to Connor that this lad was well up for it. He doubted it would take them too long to get down to business. "Right, we've got got beer, shots, cider, whatever you want, mate." He helped himself to a White Claw, handing Luis whatever he'd chosen. "Heh, Ghostuber dude," he chuckled. This was why he didn't send dick pics with his face in them. He didn't want it to end up on twitter or reddit once someone realised who he was. "Y'know what? I like that. Might nick it for my instagram bio.” He gave him a little grin. “I wanna ask what you do for work but I don’t even know how much you wanna talk and stuff. I never know how personal folks wanna get.”

“I mean there’s part of me that just wants to jump your bones,” Luis confessed as he leaned forward to accept a White Claw with a wink, the werewolf perhaps being a bit more literal then the words necessarily implied. But Luis didn’t necessarily want to give that primal part of more leeway over his life then it already had.

“But I don’t mind talking,” Luis admitted helping himself to a seat on one end of the couch. “I’m hiking cross country,” was a rather selective version of the truth. “So I’m just taking whatever work I can find along the way here y’know?”

In spite of being in media and in the public eye just enough to receive decently regular flirtation, Connor wasn't always the smoothest at this. He gave a kind chuckle, toasting their White Claws together. "That's very flattering, but yeah, we can talk. Come on." He gestured for Luis to follow him, heading onto the deck and lighting up the fire pit and sitting on the outdoor bench. "Figured this'd be a bit better than watching telly," he snickered. "So are you in White Crest for long then? Just passing through?" 

Luis had been an easygoing and social person before his life had become a runway train of carnage. Connor definitely had the sexy British angle for him, and a sinewy muscularity to go with the baby face, but perhaps was a bit blunt for coy games. Though Luis couldn’t (or didn’t want to) explain why, his sense of hearing and smell had sharpened to the point of being painful at times. He caught the fragrance of the soaps that Connor had used in the shower as his host passed by and listened to the steady background noise of his heartbeat. 

As they went out on the deck Luis looked out over the East End evening. The sun was sinking like a golden torch in the Whye River's horizon, staining the tufty lines of Stratocumulus clouds ablaze with bright magenta against the deeper blues and violets of the upper atmosphere. East End’s upscale houses and shops trailed off at the harbor where ships slept on a liquid mirror of the sky, seeming to bob up and down on cloudy stained glass. Boat masts and pier poles stood out stark like thin black columns against the prismatic sunset.  

But though Luis’ couldn’t see most of those colors anymore, the shadows of the sunset city strangely didn’t impede his sight at all. Luis glanced to smile playful at Connor, the fading light briefly reflecting off the tapetum lucidum blue in his eyes in a flare of electric blue. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Luis admitted as he leaned his elbows on the deck rail, breathing in the faint scents of fish and smoke on the chilly autumn air. “Got this gig at a fighting ring, doing Cutman work and whatnot for the fighters,” he mused. “Guess we’ll see how well that pays huh?”

"Bit of an amateur boxer or something, are you? That's pretty hot," Connor said with a smile. Most people's Grindr photos didn't leave that much to the imagination. There was usually at the very least a topless selfie in there, maybe a post-workout pic, complete with sweatpants bulge. Luis had a casually athletic build, more compact and slightly bulkier than Connor's slimmer frame. He imagined Luis being able to hold his own. "I... couldn't fight my way out of a paper bag. Have to talk my way out, hope they fall for the accent. This is all for show." He looked at Luis' bright blue eyes with a self-deprecating smile. 

"Well, this place is fuckin' weird, which is why I'm here, but it's not for everyone." In the back of his mind, he was still kind of suspect about the eating wolfsbane thing, but Connor left that alone. He actually wanted to get off with the bloke tonight, not scare him away by interrogating him. "Smoke?" he asked, pulling out a pack of tobacco and everything else he needed for a good joint. 

“Luis shook his head with an aimable wrinkle of the nose at the notion. Learning to fight hadn’t been something he’d willingly picked up or enjoyed, but it came naturally to the less human part of him, way too much so honestly. “A cutman is just the dude who makes sure the fighters don’t bleed out too much,” he explained, finding it wiser to not going into detail what sort of illicit fights would just hire some rando off the street who knew his way around an enswell. “I try not to get into fights if I can help it,” said the fellow whose rap sheet contained a bit too many charges of manslaughter for that claim to be entirely plausible. “You’re better off avoiding it honestly dude. Like...I dig some macho dom vibes much as the next guy, but that aggro life isn’t worth it,” confessed Luis, having woken up too often amongst grotesque carnage to glorify violence.

“It is weird,” Luis admitted with another look out at White Crest’s innocently picturesque panorama stretching out beyond them. “Guess that works for a ghostuber though?” Luis didn’t believe in spirits or magic, but a metaphysics argument wasn’t he wan’t to get up to with Connor tonight, so he just let that be. 

Then it turned out Connor knew the way to heart: weed. “Duuude, you must be into some weird shit if you’re buttering me up this much,” he teased with an assenting nod.

“Oh,” Connor said with a chuckle, feeling just a little bit stupid. “I guess that makes sense. It’s in the name.” Hearing that Luis avoided fights if he could help it only made Connor more attracted to him. He had no patience for that toxic masculinity bullshit. Knowing someone could defend themselves was one thing, being good at a sport was another, but seeking violence for violence’s made someone the type of person best avoided, even for a one night stand. “Yeah, couldn’t agree more. Save the macho dom vibes for the bedroom,” he teased, rolling them each a joint with a grin. 

“The views are fucking gorgeous too, I mean, look at this ocean.” He gestured to the sand and sea that spread out before them, glistening under the moon and stars. “And I never run out of stuff to film.” Even if sometimes, the thing he happened to film was someone being murdered in the woods. That’d be a mood killer, though. His grin only widened when Luos accepted his offer of some light recreational drug use. “What can I say? I like being a good host.” And once he handed Luis the rolled joint, he leaned in for a brief kiss, lips brushing against Luis’ and lingering for barely a moment before he sat back to light up, handing Luis the lighter too. 

The lighter’s flame was a momentary spark against the oceanic sunset as Luis breathed deep. Substances had come to be Luis’ escape from the train of violence his life had become, and the unwilling werewolf closed his eyes and breathed smoke into the night for a time, letting it soak into his blood and cloud out unwelcome thoughts. “Definitely gorgeous,” he affirmed, before turning away from the sea. 

Luis gently lowered himself down to straddle Connor’s lap. He looked down into Connor’s eyes for a moment with a questioning raise of tawny brows, silently asking if this was ok. “So what made you want to do youtubing stuff,” Luis asked with an unconvincingly innocent smirk as he ran both hands up the front of Connor’s shirt. Luis played it slow, his splayed fingers consciously tracing the lines of Connor’s body beneath the fabric, traveling up until he caressed the bare skin of the Brit’s neck. He leaned forward from his perch on Connor’s lap to meet his host’s lips in a long kiss, taking time to just savor the take and smell of him before parting with a breath chuckle. “So were you legit born in England,” he asked in a murmur, pulling down the front of Connor’s shirt slightly to press his lips to the firm skin of Connor’s pectorals. “Or are you actually some Cali-boy whose doing the Brit thing for sex appeal.” Luis continued to lay exploring kisses up the curves Connor’s upper chest and neck as he glanced up. “Won’t mind either way,” he assured with a grin. 

Connor closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled the joint and blew out the smoke, watching it dissipate into the night. He took another sip of his beer, not expecting the next events that unfolded, but certainly appreciating them. His breath hitched in anticipation as he felt the warm weight of the other man's body on top of him. He lifted his hands to wander over Luis' upper legs and waist. "Started to video journal for myself," he answered, closing his eyes again and sighing as Luis' hands and lips caressed his skin. He curled his own fingers into Luis' sides, sliding them just beneath his shirt. "Ran out of space on my hard drive, started uploading them to YouTube," he snickered. "And the rest is history." 

Thankfully the neighbours' houses weren't right on top of them and there was a bit of space between the houses along the beach, so he didn't feel too self-conscious about the display they were putting on. At least for now. "I'm a born and raised South West London boy, darling," he whispered, playfully exaggerating his own accent. "What about you?" he asked, fingertips tracing tiny lines along Luis' abs. "Hispanic?" 

“Chicano,” Luis confirmed with a nod, closing his eyes for a moment and just letting Connor touch bring on a trembling flex of his abdomen that brought a hitch to his breathing. “South Texas chico my dude,” he elaborated in a teasing imitation of Conner’s phrasing, as if the Coastal Bend was somehow on the same cultural tier as an ancient city of eight point nine million. Luis shrugged off his white cotton shirt onto the deck, ignoring the chilled autumn air as it brought goosebumps along his bare skin. Luis’ shoulders and chest rose and fell with deepened breaths as drank in the scent of Connor and the taste of his lips with a hungry insistence.  

A voice in the part of Luis' brain warned that he needed restraint. He needed to not lose control here.

“So why ghosts,” Luis asked as he reluctantly parted from Connor. He kept running one hand affectionately though his date’s hair while leaning back to take another drag from the joint he’d left on the railing. “You could easily get internet-famous with other stuff,” he pointed with, exhaling smoke at one end of a smile that left the ‘other stuff’ ambiguous. 

Connor’s stomach tightened and he felt himself becoming more and more aroused, especially as Luis pulled off his shirt. His own was unbuttoned all the way down to the navel, so he unfastened the rest of it, letting it hang open to reveal his chest and stomach. For a moment, he thought they were going to shag right there on the decking, but thankfully (at least for the neighbour’s sake), Luis pulled away to take another drag, smoking from his position straddling Connor’s lap. “Right, you’re one to talk about sexy accents then. You can get anyone to drop their trousers by saying romantic shit in Spanish,” Connor teased, continuing his own beer and joint. 

“Why ghosts?” He repeated. It felt like he was about to open a can of worms, so he did his best to put the pushy, opinionated part of him aside, at least for the sake of getting his dick wet tonight. “Ah, well, suppose you’re either a believer or you’re not. Hard to believe in ghosts when you can’t see them. I just happen to be someone who can.” His fingers absentmindedly continued drawing shapes on Luis’ forearm as he spoke. 

The claim about his ability to make people drop drow with Spanish elicited a snorting laugh from Luis, who’d endured less complimentary claims about his background in the past. He pressed his lips to the skin about the hem of Connor’s pants, laying teasing kisses along the muscled v-shape below the Brit’s abdominals, toying with his tongue down the very edge of the curve before relenting. 

“Te voy a joder los sesos guey,” Luis promsied with a soft murmmer in Connor’s ear. 

Connor’s answer clearly brought Luis up short, confusion mixing with the more straightforward lust on his features. Luis wasn’t particularly good at it, but could pick up sometimes when people lied sometimes. The beat of their heart changed. Even though they were skin to skin Luis hadn’t heart any falter in Connor’s aroused pulse. Maybe Luis wasn’t really in any headspace beyond screwing this guy, but it sounded like he thought he was telling the truth.  

Luis sat up on Connor’s lap for a moment and looked at him with reflective blue eyes that grew brighter at the darkness deepened, lips in cast in a half frown of vexation and both hands lifted behind his head. 

“Shit, don’t even know what to fucking make of you Con,” Conner mumbled after a while, the frown broadening in a toothy smile. Luis stood up and reached down for Conner’s hand with a come-hither look that made clear Luis’ personal suggestion to resolve this quandary. 

“Oh, bloody hell,” Connor murmured under his breath, jeans tightening as he got hard when Luis kissed and licked along his pelvic bone. He’d had a few flings in town, and it hadn’t exactly been that long since his rendezvous with Nell, but there was something incredibly alluring about Luis, the way he took what he wanted, unapologetic and confident, just a little filthy, behind a blue-eyed cherubic face you could take home to your mum. “You’re the kind of lad I could take home to family dinner and give you a blowjob in the bathroom after,” he chuckled. 

Connor ran his fingers through Luis’ light brown hair, tugging it gently as his fist clenched with arousal. “I have no clue what you just said, but it was sexy as hell,” he snickered, practically pulling Luis back to his lips so he could kiss him more firmly, more deeply, more desperately. When their lips parted, his breath caught in his throat, and he twisted the joint out in the ashtray. “Why don’t we go inside and you can make whatever you want of me?” 

Luis let himself be led back to Connor’s bedroom, putting up coy resistance at times, pretending to look around the house with wide innocent eyes but wearing a cruelly teasing smirk. One hand in Connor’s and the other tracing the lined of the cool-colored walls, Luis let the adrenaline of anintipation buoy him up like a chemical tidal wave. For a little while he was just a normal guy horny out of his mind and climbing into a hot brit’s bed. 

There came a cracking sound from somewhere outside the room, like a piledriver being used as a nutcracker. 

Luis jerked up instinctively as it hit his lupine hearing like a gunshot, looking around. “Did you...”  But the sound had stopped or maybe hadn’t existed. Fuck it. “Nevermind,” he murmured, busying him with trying to make out with Connor and get unzip his pants at the same time. 

Connor headed inside, kicking off his shoes and leaving them deserted somewhere in the hall. He threw his shirt on top of the laundry basket, climbing on top of the bed with Luis. He heard nothing, ears not as keen as the werewolf, and let himself be in ignorant bliss for a while. They continued to kiss, leaving him with tousled hair and pants half-unfastened, blood rushing between his legs as they got hotter and heavier. “What?” he whispered against a jawline that could cut glass, but whatever Luis had heard, he’d quickly forgotten. 

He whispered compliments, sighs and groans against Luis’ skin, hands wandering his torso. Their bodies were warm against one another as Connor pressed into him, haphazardly reaching to unfasten his belt before he heard it, an obnoxious sound, miniature saw blades gnawing away beneath him. “What the..” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes and looking at Luis as if to question if he was losing his bloody mind. He rolled over, begrudgingly separating himself to look under the bed. “Oh, FUCK.” Connor scrambled back on the bed, scrambling for the closest object to throw on top of the creature. He was trying to get his rocks off, and there was a fucking demon rat under his bed. 

“Dude…please...” Luis moaned, breathing fast and craving release with all this built up tension. He tried to pull Connor back down to him, skin flush and burning with the raw need that turned every nerve into a livewire. 

But before either batter or pitcher could make the final run towards home base, one corner of the bed vanished in a cloud of sawdust. There was the sound of claws scaping up wood, and Luis choked on another flurry of dry sawdust in his mouth, dust clinging to the sweat on his skin 

Luis found himself face to face with an obese beaver-shrew the size of a dog at the ruined end of the bed, and wondered for a surreal second if he’d gone insane from sheer Blue-Balls. 

“What….holy shit….whu…”

Connor really, truly would have preferred to just stay in bed and take the rest of Luis’ clothes off, doing unspeakable things to one another for the next several hours before having another cigarette and maybe sneak in some cuddling. White Crest, however, had other plans. “Bro! What the fuck--” He scrambled to fasten his pants, willing his boner to go down, which thankfully wasn’t too difficult “You little bugger, I rent this house!” He didn’t know if it was dangerous or not, so he instinctively grabbed for Luis to pull him away, then scrambled for the nearest pair of flip flops. “We gotta go, dude. I have no idea what that thing is.” 

Why...how did this rat have horns? Even while gagging on sawdust and woodchips Luis could smell that this thing wasn’t a dog, rat, squirrel, shrew, or beaver. His rational mind recognized it was impossible that a person could smell that well, but his instincts just sorta knew on a gut level that this wasn’t any animal he’d ever seen before. There was a moment of confusion as his brain and gut disagreed on what was going on. But as usual when shit went down, guts won out. 

Luis let Connor pull him away and he rolled off the side of the bed not occupied by a giant woodchipper on legs. Stumbling into the shoes he’d shed at the bedroom door, he sprinted with Connor through the house and out the front door, the frigid outside air extinguishing the amorous fire in his skin. 

Great. This was just great. He’d found a nice, handsome, and incredibly seductive boy to take to bed, and now he had an infestation of God-Knows-What chewing on his furniture. Connor shook his head, more annoyed than panicked. “I’m so sorry. This is--not what I planned for tonight. I have to call an exterminator.” Or a hunter. “But… this was nice, before it got ruined. I’ll call you, okay?” And with that, he pulled out his phone. 

[icarus-suraki]

fabric asks: cotton, eyelet, lace :)

This got so long, ha ha ha ha fuck....

cotton: what’s your favorite time of the day? This is sort of ironic because I really, really like to sleep, but I actually like early mornings. If I have to be up, if I'm already up, if I miraculously get up, I really like early mornings.

Maybe it comes from having to get to school basically before dawn in middle school and high school--I mean, when your first class starts at 7:30, you're up pretty early. So I remember riding the bus in or being driven in and the sky was almost always interesting in one way or another.

We had a major, major hurricane here in 1996. I was in high school and my dad was driving me to school (it was on the way to work for him) and it was the morning before the hurricane made landfall. And he and I were both decidedly distracted by the sky. It was already humid (I mean, they are tropical storms, hurricanes), but it wasn't cloudy or raining. In fact, it was surprisingly clear, but the wind was up and coming out of the east instead of the west. So the wind was already coming in over all the miles between us and the Atlantic ocean. There were only a few shreds of clouds, but dense clouds, that were blowing along and they were all golden in the light. I saw a lot of sunrises and early mornings in my school years and I really remember some of them.

Honestly, I see a lot of early mornings now, but it's harder to admire them when I'm the one driving, lol.

eyelet: what’s your favorite place? My bed? Mmm, yeah... 

Actually, it's the house I grew up in during the time we lived there. It's all changed now, so it's not really the same place, but it's probably my favorite place. It's nothing to speak of, just a 1-story 1970s ranch house in a neighborhood of more ranches and occasional split-levels. But, I don't know, I like it.

Like, it faced fully east, so remember how I said I liked early mornings? The morning sun would just flood my room. And it was up on a hill that flattened out into the cul-de-sac, then sloped down again on the other side of the street, down to a little creek. So we had the best view out over the trees on that far slope. In late winter, late in the day, if it was clear, the sun would set with the light at this almost horizontal angle and in this dark golden-orange color. But half the light would be blocked by the hillsides, so only part of the trees across the cul-de-sac would be lighted. It was like the sun was already low enough that the tops of the trees were dark, and the bottoms of the trees were in the shadow of our hill, but the trunks and the rising land behind them were all orangey-rosy-gold.

And our hill was ideal for sledding when we got some big snowstorms (and we did, too). You could start at our carport (later a garage) and launch yourself down the whole hill, slide across the road, and then if you aimed right you could slide all the way down the clear side of our neighbors' house all the way to the creek. I can literally taste that sour-cold snow smell right now lol.

And all the grass and trees--we had this huge old oak tree that snapped off in the 1996 hurricane I mentioned up there earlier, which was a shame, but we had so many big trees. And this one random white oak that grew in the middle of the backyard but it had moss on its trunk and violets and little white starflowers (I don't know their real name) grew around it. All the moss along the side of our yard, too. And the apple tree that was at the back of our house, trained up along the chimney. And my dad's radio antennas strung up in the trees too. And the people behind us and their elaborate landscaping (which was forbidden territory, which made it sort of magic?). And the forest of feral bamboo. And the walking trails and the little pocket parks. And the patch of pine trees in those two or three yards (and no other kinds of trees). All the dogwoods in spring and all the leaves in fall (and we had a tarp that was made to cover a 1970s Buick, so it was Not Small, that we used to haul leaves out of our yard and we'd measure leaf collections in Buicks, but that made some amazing leaf piles for jumping in). And the various pets in the neighborhood. And the neighborhood pool in the summer, which is where I got to hear a lot of music for the first time.

If I keep going like this, I might cry, because I really do miss it so much.

It got harder and harder to enjoy as we all got older because, after a certain point, the parents would start looking at you funny when you were walking around in the woods. They all came of age in the 60s and 70s, so they probably thought I was looking for a good spot to smoke weed, drink, make-out, whatever. But, no, I just wanted to pretend to be an elf for a while longer--and not a refined, Tolkien, High-Elf elf either; this was a much more earthy, muddy kind of elf. It sucks that there was this unspoken cutoff point and you were supposed to be more interested in dating and college and jobs and "going out" with friends. My folks enforced that cutoff in a major way, but only in regards to college and jobs. No more fooling around outside unless it has a purpose.

I still want to just go play around in the woods like I used to. And there are woods around here--plenty of them, too. But when you're in your late 30s, you do get stared at. When I go on a walk in one of parks around here in my ordinary clothes, I'm almost weird for it. Like, there's lots of people walking, but they're all in workout clothes and they're just powerwalking around this lake, talking on their phones or with their two or three powerwalking friends. And I'm just slouching along in my flipflops, looking at leaves. I get some odd looks and I don't like it. I really wish I could just play elf again (inb4LARPing, though I might yet cosplay Deedlit before I get too old).

I don't know, does an era, does a time count as a place? Because these places at that time are my favorite time and place.

I could literally talk for years about that whole neighborhood.

lace: what is your favorite constellation? I have a special place in my heart for the Pleiades. This is not unusual, and you might even call it basic, I know--but I'm allowed.

First, my zodiac sign is Taurus and the Pleiades sit in the constellation of Taurus.

Second, in my New Age-tinged teen years, the Pleiades were always held in high regard for everyone into alien contact or close encounters. It was like the Good Aliens came from the Pleiades.

Around that time, there was this quiz going around via email, like a chain letter--remember, this was about 1995 or 1996, so these forwarded emails were like proto-memes or ur-memes--that had about 100 questions or so to determine if you were a "lightworker" or a "starseed" or if your soul was from Atlantis or if you were somehow connected to aliens and psychic powers and all that (what it really tested was how much your tastes aligned to what would now be called the "aesthetic" of "new-agecore"). It's kind of classic now, and a bit cringé. Anyway, that had two or three questions about the Pleiades, so of course that made them a bit more "my thing." (I grew out of that phase, but I do kind of miss it. It was probably more good for me than bad back then because it gave me something to hang on to: school may suck and I have no friends, but I'm ~special~ and maybe the aliens will let me come visit them.)

Third, I loved wearing my mother's old leather gloves in the winter when I was very young. She mostly wore them to drive and then would take them off, so I'd put them on. I was 4, 5, 6 years old, so even though my mother is tiny, these gloves were still huge on me. And she'd always say I looked like Maia in Mary Poppins.

Not the movie, the books. In one of the stories, Maia, one of the Seven Sisters, comes down to London to do Christmas shopping for her six sisters and asks Jane and Michael (I think it's just the two of them in this part?) for advice. It's very cold and Maia doesn't have any gloves and is usually illustrated all dressed in gauze and she's cold. So Mary Poppins gives Maia her gloves, which are entirely too large for her hands, but they keep Maia warm as she goes back up to the stars again.

So this is me, evidently...

And last, but not least, I have really bad vision. Like, really bad. Like, completely horrible. Like, I cannot function without corrective lenses at all. So I could kind of sort of see some constellations but the stars were always a bit fuzzy (thanks, astigmatism) and not, like, the points of light poets like to say they are. Twinkle? Nah, they're just fuzzballs, but I digress.

Except that one night, sometime in the fall (I remember it was cold), I was looking up at the sky and I saw something like a star in the corner of my eye. So I looked at it but I didn't see it. Looked away, saw it; looked at it, didn't see it. So I messed around a little and finally saw this kind of cloud of stars that I could only see if I didn't look directly at it. And that's kind of magic. So I learned that was the Pleiades, which is actually a place where stars are being born right now.

So, for me, it's the Seven Sisters. And reading that stories about the Pleiades might go back to when all of humanity was still in Africa really moves something in me.

[mrsalwayswrite]

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 2 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

As always a huge thank you to @evelynshelby​ for encouraging and supporting my Peaky writing. She is the best!

Warnings: Violence, swearing, racial slurs and some mild sexual content. 

Words: 7k (because I could not stop writing, sorry.)

Please let me know what you guys think and if anyone wants to be added to a tag list. Also, I am not British nor is the early 1900s something I am confident in for writing, so it there is anything blatantly obvious that needs to be corrected, please let me know. 

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum

Part 2 - Bloody Fists and Opening Scenes

 ~1912~

He could feel their stares, their glares, their looks of disapproval. He gave zero fucks. His head held tall, an icy look sent to any who dared make eye contact. This was not his neighborhood. He knew that. He was a literal black sheep here amongst those wealthier than him. Yet he refused to bow to their need to dominate. To submit because he wore a kippah, making him lesser than them, his clothes handmade by his mother instead of purchased at a fancy store. No, he knew something these people did not. He was a wolf amongst these sheep, his bloodied knuckles testament to that…and if anyone tried to stop him, he would spill their blood on the ground without qualms. Fuck them all. 

Truthfully Alfie was in a black mood. He walked down the street, fists clenched by his sides, kippah in his back pocket because he was no longer at prayer (his mother would lament that he never attended) nor was he on ‘business’. The whispers of the two Jewish lads walking behind him reminded him to keep his rage under control just a while longer. The three of them were walking back to Camden Town after conducting some ‘business’ for the boss. They had been sent to deliver a particular message to someone who owed their boss money. Smashed furniture and broken fingers were left behind, for that was expected. What put Alfie in a foul mood was the pathetic excuse of a man made a counter offer to pay off his debt. Instead of money, the boss could take his daughter’s virginity. All this he said with a sleezy smile on his face as his teenage daughter cried on the stairwell. What made matters worse… the boss would probably take the offer.

Strange sounds drifted from across the street. Alfie did not even have to look to know what caused it. The London Zoo sign proudly showed above its gates, welcoming its citizens to marvel at the mysterious and wonderful beasts inside. His feet carried him past the spectacle and onward towards the bridge, in which he would be back in familiar territory and no one dared looked down on him.

It was a warmer spring day, the taste of a hot summer to be had that year. Flecks of blood littered the sleeves of his white shirt, now rolled up to his elbows. Somehow he would have to create an excuse to appease his mum who would undoubtably ask about the blood. At least his black trousers hid the evidence better.

His eyes scanned the people on the street, a subconscious habit at this point. At once they locked onto a lithe, feminine form with blonde har. It was embarrassing how often he unconsciously scanned for that very thing. Over half a year flew by since he had last seen those emerald eyes and mischievous smile. His angel. He could not help the way his heart raced at seeing the blonde hair across the street and further down. She was standing in front of some shop, gazing at something in particular in the windowfront. Willing his heart to slow down, he subtly kept peeking, hoping to get a glimpse of her face. In his heart he knew it was futile, in the past it was never her, but hope always arose without his permission. A dangerous thing. This one wore a lovely light pink chiffon dress, sleeveless with ruffles towards the hem of the dress. The top layer of her long hair was pinned up while the bottom hung freely and beautifully.

Moments later, two lads came out of the store, young men really, both in clean pressed trousers, button down shirts, sports jackets and one in a hat. Immediately they walked the few steps to crowd the blonde, one leaning against the window glass to face her and the other hovering by her side. Grins on both of their face and they gave off the impression of superiority and confidence. That alone made Alfie want to fight them.

He knew he should leave it alone, he knew it was none of his business. Curiosity won out. He slowed his steps as he watched the interaction of the three further down. It was obvious, even from where he stood, the lads were trying to flirt with her…but without success. Her eyes remained straight ahead, ignoring them. Less than a minute later and without a word, she turned, starting to walk away, her back towards the lads and Alfie. One of the lads grabbed her hand and spun her back round to face him, not done flirting or still willing to work to get a reaction out of her. Perhaps she was purposefully playing hard to get?

She whipped around, staring annoyed at the lad before uttering something. With a twist of her wrist, she escaped his hold and quickly continued with her walk. Whatever she said, the two lads did not like. With a glance at one another, they followed her, keeping several paces back until the three disappeared from view down a side alley.

All the air had been knocked out of Alfie’s lungs, he was sure of it. For once she turned around and he was able to see her face, a sucker punch to the gut would have been more expected. For there she stood. He would recognize her anywhere for she haunted his dreams. Her delicate features pinched in annoyance as she spat something at him but that core strength visible even from here.

Immediately, as if on autopilot, his feet followed. He crossed the street, uncaring of the cars, carriages and other pedestrians. He had to get to her, to see her up close, to touch her and, if God himself was feeling generous, perhaps he could taste her lips once again.

“Alf, where you goin’ now?” Ishmael asked, having moved to his side. The lad was the same age as Alfie, both had their eighteenth birthday during Hanukkah. Having spent the past eighteen years growing up together, they acted more like brothers than neighbors. One thing stood resolutely between them, they would always have each other’s backs during the good and the bad times.  

“Gonna pick a fight.”

“Uh huh…” Ishmael scratched the stubble on his jawline. “What for?”

“’member that girl I told ya ‘bout. Got me away from those coppers.”

“Yeah, you never got ‘er name.”

“Two fuckers just followed her down that alley.”

Ishmael grunted. No more needed to be said. He was the only person who knew the truth of that night and even then it took almost throwing fists between them for Alfie to confess. After, Ishmael had been sworn to secrecy or his tongue would be cut out. Nathan trailed behind the two, oblivious but uncaring. He was two years younger but Alfie tolerated him because he did not ask unnecessary questions nor go sticking his nose in unwanted places. The lad was just happy to be doing something instead of listening to his six younger siblings and mother in their one bedroom apartment.

Quickly they caught up to where the trio disappeared. As they turned down that side alley, a narrow thing between two sections of shops used to dispose of rubbish, the sounds of all of London faded. For Alfie could only see and hear the commotion before him.

Further down the two toff lads had her backed against a wall as they hovered over her. With an almost bored expression, she just watched them try and intimidate her. One hand loosely held her small purse while the other toyed with her hair.

“I will give you one last chance. Walk away or you will regret it.”

Her smooth voice flowed over him as he heard her speak to them. Internally he was amused by her statement but that still could not keep the red lens from coloring his vision. Those toffs needed to be taught a lesson and he had no problem being the teacher.

The one with the hat leaned forward and ran a hand slowly down her side, making sure to get a good touch of her breast before moving to her hip. “Come on, doll. All we are asking for is just a kiss. Don’t be so uptight. There’s no harm in a kiss.”

The other lad took a few steps back and lit a cigarette. He chuckled at his friend’s statement as he blew out a plume of smoke, ignorant of the trouble approaching.

“Oi! Look ‘ere lads.” Alfie loudly proclaimed as he ambled closer towards the trio, suddenly acting like he did not have a care in the world. An act because inside he was boiling with rage and hoped for nothing more than to ram both of the toffs’ heads against the brick wall. Multiple times preferably. “These boys ‘ere, right, don’t know how to treat a lady none. Tsk tsk. You boys need to go back on your mother’s tits until you know how to properly woo a lady. Cornerin’ her in a nasty alley ain’t the way to do it, yeah? For a posh girl like her, I ‘eard its about that champagne and roses, out dancin’ and the likes. Somethin’ you lot don’t know nothin’ ‘bout it seems. So before you piss me off more, right…fuck off.”

The one with the cigarette smirked around the fag in between his lips. “Oh? And who the hell asked for your opinion?”

“No one but it looked like you needed it.” He shrugged casually, his eyes looked between the two idiots and into the emerald eyes he longed to see. “You ok, Angel? They ain’t hurt you none, yeah?”

“I am fine, Alfie.”

Hearing her say his name sent a shot of warmth straight to his heart. She still remembered him, even after all these months.

“What? You know these kikes?” The one in the hat asked disbelieving, eyeing both her and the three Jewish lads blocking the front way out of the alley and onto the main street.

Alfie could feel himself along with Ishmael and Nathan bristle at the insult. Not that he had never been called that, he had heard all sorts of derogatory insults towards himself and his people, but it practically assured that he would break their jaw so they could not insult anyone for a long time after.

He did not wait for her response, as he laughed in her face. “You must be easy then, playing the innocent bird, but really you let kikes fuck you. You’re just as filthy as them.”

“Charles, shut it.” The one with the cigarette snapped at his friend. He stood between the two groups but kept his eyes on Alfie the whole time. “You lads head on back out. We will just escort the lady here back to her family at the tea shop. Nothing more needs to happen here. We were just teasing her. No harm done.”

“You see, that’s the thing, innit?” Alfie rubbed his hand over his chin, looking as if contemplating something monumental. “Your boy there insulted me and me friends. Worse though, he insulted the lady, yeah? So in me books, he needs to apologize to her then to me friends and me, yeah, then we’ll be on our way.”

The one in the hat- Charles apparently- sneered as he roughly shoved her further against the wall before storming over to stand by his friend. “What are you going to do about it, Jewboy? You are on the wrong side of the river to be saying anything. I can call the coppers and they will arrest your asses without question…because you are a dirty, money-loving, pig-fucking Jew.”

“Mate, I’m gonna make you eat those words. That s’what gonna happen now, yeah? You s’fuckin’ waste of air. Now, let the lady go and then we’ll see if you’re even able to utter the word ‘Jew’ after I’m done with you.”

“Are you her fucking bodyguard or something? I am not done with her. First I’m going to send you back to your shanties then I’m going to have her on her knees right here.”

“Who says I need a bodyguard?” Suddenly she moved from standing behind Charles to his side, a four inch pointed hair pin in her hand. As she moved, she dragged it along his throat until it landed on his bobbing Adam’s apple. Alfie had not even noticed her stepping away from the wall and behind the arrogant toff, she moved so quietly.

“Fucking bitch.”

In a flash she slashed Charles’ cheek before returning the hair pin to his throat. “You stand right here like a good boy until my friends and I are gone. If I look behind and see you following us, I will be sorely disappointed and this hair pin will pierce the very thing you are using to think, which in your case is not your brain.”

A faint snicker came from Ishmael behind him but Alfie kept his eyes on the dangerous beauty before him, both enthralled by her confidence and concerned for her safety. He could see it in the eyes of the lad Charles…he would not let her get away so easily, especially now after insulting him.

Ever so slowly, she pulled the hair pin away and took a step back towards Alfie. After a tense moment, she turned to walk the few steps to Alfie. With her eyes no longer on him, Charles moved. He snarled, moving to reach out and grab her but his hand never made it.

Alfie stood between them, appearing like an apparition in how quickly he moved. His fist reared back and slammed into the jaw of the foul-mouthed toff. All his pending rage from his ‘business’ and now being forced to listen to insults, all that anger fueled him to fulfilling his promise. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ishmael keeping the other lad back. With that knowledge, he poured all his focus and energy into making the lad eat his words and threatening his angel. An unforgiveable crime, really.

Two solid punches were all it took before Charles was on the ground. Yet Alfie was not done with him. Not yet. Punches and kicked rained down on the lad, a harsh lesson being taught that hopefully the idiot would remember. Soon enough, the lad was a blubbering, bloody mess on the dirty cobblestones. It was pathetic how soon his apologies and begs for mercy spewed forth in his mumblings, his jaw broken so his words were hard to understand.

Alfie stood towering over the lad, sprawled out on the ground; his chest heaving, bloodied fists by his sides. Like a judge condemning a prisoner to his sentence, Alfie pointed a finger at him. “I see you again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you, mate. And it won’t be easy or pretty, yeah? You watch your back.” He gave a long pause, letting his words sink like a stone in the shallow pool of the toff’s mind. With a satisfied grunt, he turned to face the other, sporting his own bloodied lip curtesy of Ishmael but that seemed the worst of it. “Get ‘im outta here.”

Without a word, the other lad gathered his friend up and helped carry him down the alley, keeping to the side streets to avoid the bloody spectacle they were.

“I could have handled them, you know. I had it under control.”

Alfie rolled his eyes as he turned to face her. “Yeah? Sure didn’t look like it none, love.” They stared at one another, a silent battle of wills. After a tense minute, he smirked. “’sides, I reckon it’s me turn to be savin’ you, yeah?”

With that she cracked a smile, the tension in the air melting away. After quick shake of her head,  she sauntered over to his side. “Let me see your hands.”

“No, s’fine, love.”

“Was he born this stubborn or did his mother drop him a few times?” She looked over her shoulder at Ishmael and Nathan, both hanging back and observing the curious scene before them.

Her question made Ishmael chuckle. “We still ain’t figured that one out.”

“Ah, fuck off, mate.” Alfie growled at his friend but without real venom.

“Thought so.” She turned back her attention to Alfie. “Hands. Now.”

Grumbling under his breath, he held his hands out so she could quickly examine them and wipe the blood off with a handkerchief she magically pulled out of her small purse. He could not help but wonder if it was the same one from all those months ago. Her soft voice pulled him out of his musings.

“Maybe one of these days we will have the ability to meet without blood on your knuckles and it soiling my handkerchiefs.”

“No promises. How ‘bout next time you beat ‘em up and I’ll clean up your hands, mmm? Sounds fair to me.”

She laughed, a beautiful sound full of life. Head tilted back, eyes crinkling, just like he remembered.

“But fuckin’ hell, love. Since when you carry that hair pin?”

Done with wiping his hands as best as she could, she placed the soiled handkerchief in her purse and retrieved her hair pin out, handing it over to Alfie.

“Since someone told me its not safe to be walking around on my own.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuckin’ genius that one.” He mumbled, looking over the slender weapon. It was sleek and impressive. He had never seen one of these before, only ever heard of them. The head of the pin was a lotus flower with a small ruby in the center. The blade part was at least four inches, making the while thing only six inches but lethal if used properly. “Chinese?”

She nodded, taking it back. Quickly and expertly she twisted the top half of her hair into a bun and easily slipped the pin in to hold it steady. There it looked beautiful and innocent, its potential unimaginable.

“Bloody Chinese, yeah. What you doin’ now? Just takin’ a stroll?”

“It’s a lovely day, is it not?” She winked at Alfie before turning to the other two lads. “Pleasure meeting you two. May I inquire as to your names?”

Of course the cheeky bastard winked at her. “Ishmael, that one is Nathan…and what’s your name, love?”

“Tut tut. That is not have the game is played.” She gracefully slide over to Ishmael’s side and wrapped her arm through his. “Call me Angel. Now I was off to the pictures actually and it would be a true shame if I had to go alone. Who knows the trouble that could find me. How would you lovely gentlemen feel about accompanying me? The tickets will be taken care of. The Three Musketeers is playing and I have heard its riveting.”

“Sounds interestin’. ‘Sides, just met you, be a shame to leave you so soon.” Ishmael gave Alfie a sly grin before guiding her down the dirty alley and back onto the main street with her giggling.

Grinding his teeth, Alfie followed, jamming his hands in his trouser pockets. They ached some but none of his knuckles or fingers felt broken or dislocated. Probably a testament to the calluses he now wore for how often he used his fists.

“Who is she?” Nathan whispered falling into step next to him.

“A friend. An old friend.”

“A gentile?”

He stopped and got in Nathan’s face. “That s’fuckin’ problem?”

“No…no, Alfie.” He stuttered out, quaking under Alfie’s glare.

“Good, that s’real good coz you say one bad thing to her and I’ll make sure the boss knows you pissed your trousers last week, right, when supposed to be collectin’ dues, yeah?” Letting his threat hang heavy, he turned back around and started after Ishmael and his Angel.

Of the two of them, Ishmael was more flirtatious and now was no exception. Occasionally he would lean over and whisper something in her ear that would  make her giggle. God above, Alfie had missed that sound though. Even if it drove him mad that his ‘best’ friend was the one drawing it out of her. He wanted to be the one holding her, making her laugh, soaking in her attention. But instead, he kept walking, hands in his pockets, eyeing anyone that looked at her for too long. He figured there was a game she was playing, he only had to sit back and figure out the rules before winning.

Finally they made it to the movie theatre. The giant board over the entrance announced the movies playing, the scent of popcorn saturated the air, especially once they walked inside. The carpeted floor cushioned all the noise from the other people and the machines. Truthfully, Alfie had never been to the pictures. There was never excess money to spare on such frivolity. By the looks on Ishmael and Nathan’s faces, they had never been before either. His eyes hungrily took in the sights around him, committing it to memory. One day he would be able to come to places like this whenever he wanted. One day he would not have to worry about scraping by for money. One day…

“This way, boys.”

Her voice caused the three Jewish lads to wake from their stupor and obediently follow her. She walked a head of them, her perk little arse a guiding light that Alife could not keep his eyes off of. Down a corridor, she stopped at one of the numbered doors.

“Ready?”

Inside was dim, the picture already getting started. Lights down, a good few of the chairs were filled up surprisingly. The four of them found open seats towards the back in a vacant row. At the end sat Nathan, practically bouncing in his seat with glee, Ishmael, Alfie and then Angel. As soon as the images started appearing on the screen, Alfie found his arm being lifted and draped over her shoulder, followed quickly by her tucking herself into his side.

“Oh, now you wanna be with me yeah? Thought you didn’t want nothin’ to do with me. ‘ell, I beat some wanker up for you and the thanks I get, you walkin’ off with me friend on his arm. Ain’t fuckin’ right.” He whispered into her ear, wishing for nothing more than to bury his face into her neck and hold her close.

“I would hate for them to feel left out…but I can switch seats with you if you prefer and cuddle up to Ishamel there. I do not think he would mind.”

“Shut your mouth. You s’my angel, yeah? I share many things, right, but I won’t share you none.”

“Do not forget it.” Her hand reached over and grabbed his other, toying with his fingers. “Will you have to leave right away?”

“Oi! If you two plannin’ on yappin’ the ‘ole time, move down a few seats.” Ishmael stage whispered, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Before Alfie could retort with an unsavory comment, Angel swiftly yet gracefully rose, grabbing his hand and started tugging on him down the row. He fumbled along behind her, the space between the rows of seats less than desirable for a broad lad like himself. Finally she stopped them at the complete opposite end of the row. He dutifully sat next to her and immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. A glance around showed there was no one else within at least four rows ahead of them and only Ishmael and Nathan on the far side of the row.

“Alright, love, you got me all by me lonesome. Either you s’gonna ravage me or kill me and with it bein’ you…I ain’t sure, yeah? Gotta let me know if I need to defend meself, especially with that bloody hair pin.”

She smiled, a brilliant light amongst the dim of the theatre. “Do you have a preference?”

“Ah, it’s be a fuckin’ shame to die without kissin’ you once more, yeah?” He leaned closer and ran his nose along her ear, just barely able to see the goosebumps appear on her skin from his breath and proximity. “Kissin’ you be the closest I’ll ever get to heaven, Angel.”

“Cheeky bastard with your honeyed words.” She breathed out, her words hitting his lips as she turned to face him. A moment passed, their eyes locked, then she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his. Their mouths met hungrily, tongues dancing, breaths intermingled. Their desperation for one another evident and all-consuming. Her hands clutched his head, dragging him closer. That intoxicating scent of hers, lavender, clouded his senses and judgement. The notion that other people existed vanished in the thrall of passion, yearning for one another. Her touch, her taste, soothed his soul and mind, like he was the desert and her the first rain storm. Their lips parted with a smack, both panting and trying to keep the sound low. The separation was too much, he needed her.

His lips attacked her neck, kissing, sucking, an almost animalistic feel of just more. His hand tightened on her thigh, drifting further up under her dress. Her silk stocking was almost as soft as her lips. As his mouth sucked on a particular spot just behind her ear, a low wanton moan slipped out of her lips and landed in his lap. That sound was enough to make him hard right there. His hand continued to explore up her thigh. He traced the garter she wore, hoping, praying, wishing one day to only see her in those garters, stockings and heels. That was it. God, he wanted that now. Continuing northward, his fingertips trailed up past her garter and into uncharted territory. Never before had he gone this far with a girl. He had heard some of the other Gentile lads talk about it or their conquests, usually at a brothel. This was nothing like listening to them. Oh no, it was far better. Finally his fingertips slowly made their way towards her hot core. Then it hit him. She was without any knickers. Just a garter belt holding up her stockings. This whole time, she had nothing on under her dress and slip, or however many layers a young woman like her wore.

“What’s this, love? S’you a naughty girl?” He murmured into her ear, teasingly tracing her lower lips. Already he could feel she was wet and that did not help how hard he was.

“Alfie…” His name on her breath was the most erotic sound he had ever heard. It was both a prayer and a command. One in which he had no qualms answering. Without warning, he plunged his finger into her heat. Immediately his mouth covered hers, inhaling her moan and coaxing her tongue to dance with his while his fingers played with her.

It did not take long for her to peak. A clenching around his fingers and her sigh evidence along with the moisture coating his fingers. Her head tilted back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rapidly as she descended back to earth was his new favorite sight. He could watch this all day long and never tire of it. Angelic no longer described her in the heat of the moment. Goddess was closer to the new truth.

“ S’right, love?”

“Stop fishing for compliments, you know you did amazingly.” She smacked his chest half-heartedly then her voice dropped down to a whisper as if voicing her thoughts aloud. “That was better than I ever imagined.”

“An orgasm or just me?”  

She hesitated, biting her lower lip then purred out, “you doing it.”

He groaned, nuzzling her neck. “Angel, you canna say somethin’ like that. Me cock is ‘bout to explode, yeah, and I ain’t goin’ in me trousers like some boy.”

“Well, we cannot have that now can we…come with me.” Abruptly she stood, nudging him to get up.

That was honestly the last thing he wanted to do. It felt like he had a plank of wood the size of his arm in his trousers. Grumbling, he followed her around the last row of seats and over to Ishmael and Nathan. She leaned over Ishmael’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear, earning a nod from him. A quick peck on his cheek and she started towards the exit door. Confused, Alfie glanced back over at Ishmael who only sent a cocky wink before turning back to the screen. So he did what felt right. He followed her out of the exit door. As soon as they passed through and into the main corridor, her hand trapped his and tugged him to follow her.

“The fuck is goin’ on. What you say to Ishmael?”

“I told him you were walking me home.”

Well that sort of explained the wink. Before he could question her further, she opened a different theatre door and pulled him through. This one was dark, just a couple sporadic lights on to beat back the complete darkness. It was also empty, probably in between shows or something. The lingering scent of cigarettes and popcorn filtered through the carpet but all Alfie could smell was lavender. She pulled him to the front of the theatre and practically threw him down into one of the seats.

“What…Angel?”

“Stop talking.”

Then in that dimness he felt her hands tugging on his trousers. That little bit of friction was enough to cause him to hiss. Never had he been so hard. Maybe this was what hell would be like. No relief, continuous torment. He felt himself spring out from its encloser before being encased in something warm and wet. It was overwhelming. A loud groan escaped without his permission but he could not care in the moment. Her name, what she was to him, became a chant as his hands tangled in her hair. Galaxies and stars flew by him as the pleasure grew until he thought he could not physically take it anymore. Suddenly she began to hum and it was as if all the floodgates burst forth. He finished with her sucking him dry, then she released him with a loud, wet ‘pop’ and continued to kneel in front of him.

“What…fuckin’ hell, I mean…fuck…what…fuck...” His brain refused to cooperate, still lost in the waves of pleasure his body was coming down from. This…this had to be heaven. Surely, something this incredible had to be.

“Do not forget to breath, sweetheart.”

“I’ll try me best. Damn, love. You done that often?”

She shifted to lean over him, her face close. “And if I said you are my first?”

His response was to drag her down into his lap and claim her lips. How was this girl even real? She seemed more like something from his own personal fantasy. Both heaven and hell in its pleasure and torment. He did not even care that he could taste himself, so desperate was he to claim her in any way. Their lips clashed, breathing becoming erratic once again as something continued to build between them. Her hands slipped under his shirt, running up his bare skin as she straddled his lap. His own hands were not dormant, but searching, caressing, teasing anywhere he could. Her core rested over his manhood and the heat was scorching him but in the most delectable way. Did she realize how badly he wanted her? She did want him just as much? Was she a virgin? He was. A movie theatre was not the ideal location for losing one’s virginity but Alfie was not opposed right now. He wanted to hear her panting his name again, to see her come undone but with his cock instead of his fingers.

Suddenly all the lights turned on.

“Hey! You kids can’t be in ‘ere!” A distinctly male voice yelled at them, standing in the back near the projector.

The two separated, panting, laughing and smiling. Both had to adjust their clothing and her hair to look somewhat decent, like they had not just been about to…well, you know. They fled the theatre, escaping out of the room and out onto the main street. Broad grins plastered on both of their faces, they tried to casually walk down the street without attracting attention. A feat truly impossible for a young, aristocratic woman and a Jewish lad of a lower class walking side by side giggling and smiling. People take notice.

“I do need to leave now.”

“I’ll walk ya.” Before she could refuse, he tugged her arm through his “I ain’t done seein’ you yet. Only God knows when I’ll see you again, right? Unless you’re gonna tell me who you is, that’d solve this problem. You seem to know where I am.”

She laughed, placing her head on his shoulder momentarily. “You do not like calling me ‘Angel’? I am growing quite fond of it.”

“You’ll always be my angel, yeah. Dunno why you not want me to call you by youse real name.”

“Then you would have to call me either ‘lady’ or ‘miss’ before my name.”

His eyebrows rose at her confession, a confirmation of his suspicions. “Oh yeah? Well that s’somethin’, innit? My lady Angel…” He teased, aware of how stiff she had suddenly become while waiting for his response. She relaxed instantaneously when she realized he was continuing to stay light-hearted in their banter. “What brings you all the way out ‘ere, mmm? I can’t think a posh girl like youself, your governess or whoever the fuck minds you would like seein’ you strollin’ with the likes of me, yeah?”

“You arse! I do not have a governess!”

“But you had one?”

“Fine, yes, yes I did. But she was fired when I was twelve for sleeping with the butler and the horse master when she was supposed to be watching me. I convinced my parents I did not need another. ”

“No!” Alfie placed a hand over his heart with a scandalized look on his face. “Heaven forbid! That disgraceful wench!”

They both broke into peals of laughter at his fake posh accent.

“My father’s driver.”

“Mmm…what s’that, love?”

She sighed. “My father’s driver…he has a mistress out here. When it’s obvious it will be a long day for my father, his driver will claim to run errands but really goes to visit her. I caught him once, snuck into the car without him noticing and popped up just outside of her flat. He about shit himself. So we made a deal. We pretend he is driving me somewhere while he visits her…and I…I get to pretend to be someone else for a while.”

“Ah. No siblings to drag around with you?”

“No. I have an older brother but he is too busy and lost in his books and studies for me anymore.”

“Where does your father work?”

She hesitated before dropping her voice to barely a whisper. “Parliament. But no more, please. I do not want to talk about him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He still let out a long whistle. So her family had wealth and influence. His desire to figure out who she was exploded exponentially. “That s’fuckin’ thing, innit, I could kidnap you and get a ransom, yeah? Bet you worth lots, yeah?”

“Yes…” Her voice abruptly shifted to dangerously low and harsh, the complete opposite of her usually smooth, sweet voice. “…but I would make you regret it for every moment left of your life until you cursed the money you took and the day you thought of betraying me. I would ruin you in every way possible until you could only crawl and beg in the gutter. ”

He paused, surprised by the venom in her tone and how cold she sounded. “Well, fuck, love. Remind me never to get on your bad side, yeah? Gonna make me piss my trousers the way you talkin’.” He chuckled when she nudged him but they kept stride.

“Tell me about your family.”

“Naw, you don’t wanna hear ‘bout them. Nothin’ interestin’ there.”

“Alfie, please.”

Whatever willpower he broke between those emerald eyes and her soft, pleading voice. He was practically clay in her hands. “Well, there s’me mum, younger brother and sister. Me father died years ago…” And somehow he found himself telling her about his life and family with stories that made her laugh. Time and the streets underneath their feet felt endless but in a positive way. He wished time could cease or never force them to separate.

 *****

 “That is my father’s driver up ahead.”

“Yeah? I’ll walk you this time. Kinda wanna see this wanker.”

They walked closer, eventually catching the eye of the driver. He appeared at least in his thirties with a modest suit, thick moustache and a hat tipped down to shield his eyes. He did a double-take, not recognizing his charge on the arm of a lower-class lad. With one last drag, he tossed his cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out with his shiny shoe before striding their way.

“Miss Sarah, you kept me waiting almost an hour. Your father will be upset with how long we were gone.”

“Miss Sarah, eh?” Alfie looked at the driver and motioned to the young lady on his arm. “So the lovely angel does have a name, yeah? She s’bein’ a pain by keepin’ her name a secret. Done broke me heart thinkin’ I’d never know ‘er real name.”

“You, shut your mouth.” She pointed at Alfie, amusement twinkling in those green eyes. Then she turned back to the driver, “Robert, my father will hardly notice. I decided to go to the pictures and it went longer than I anticipated but it turned out to be…most pleasurable. I do believe it might deserve an encore, and hopefully multiple ones. Truly a masterpiece.”

Alfie tried his hardest to keep the color off his cheeks and the blood from rushing into his trousers with the cheeky smirk Angel -no, Sarah- was giving him.

The driver -Robert- looked down his nose at Alfie, not even trying to hide his distain. Alfie could feel his hackles and anger rise within. “We must leave, Miss, before you return home smelling of the dreck this place is.”

He could not ignore that particular barb. Keeping his voice light and face friendly, Alfie subtly pulled Sarah closer into his side. “How’s that mistress of yours? She live round here, right? Me guess is on Queen’s Alley. What I’ve ‘eard is that’s where all the harlots live…but fuck if I’d know. That all I ‘eard, yeah? S’real shame how many men visits them, I ‘ear.”

Steam practically poured out of Robert’s red tinged ears. His sneer deepened but he cast his eyes to Sarah. “Two minutes, Miss.” Turning on his heel, he stormed back towards the car, lighting a cigarette as he went.

“I think he like me, yeah, fuckin’ bosom buddies now.”

She laughed, eyes crinkling and the sunlight shining on her blonde hair. His breath stuck in his throat looking at her. The more he learned about her, the ravenous yearning to learn more grew alongside. She was everything he wanted and needed in his bleak life- fun, a laugh readily available, unaffected by his anger and violence, uncaring of where he came from, smart, sexy, never truly docile, mischievous with a slice of danger that he found extremely attractive.  

“I better go before Robert makes me walk all the way to Parliament from here. It is a lovely day but my feet would murder me if I walked there in these heels.” She joked, untangling her arm from his.

“Don’t go.”

She froze. “What?”

“Don’t go, love. Stay. I’ll take care of you, that s’fuckin’ promise, yeah? I ain’t got much, can get a job at the factory or somethin’ for extra money. We’ll get our own flat, you can make fancy like. Dunno how but I’ll always take care of you.” The words stumbled out almost in a drunken stagger. Vulnerable did not even begin to describe how he felt. Hands running through his hair, he kept his eyes downcast unable to meet hers. She would laugh at him, at his piss poor promise to provide for her. He could never give her what she already had, what she deserved. But by heaven or hell, he would willing work day and night to keep her by his side. To know she was waiting for him with one of her heart-stopping smiles. He was a fool.

Finally he glanced up and his heart broke. A single tear had slipped down her cheek, betraying the moisture in her eyes as she bit her plump bottom lip.

“No, love, none of that, yeah? S’alright.” Tenderly he wiped the tear away with his thumb, unsure what else to do.

It felt like Sarah and him were encased in their own bubble. The people walking by them on the street did not matter. The sounds of the cars, horses, carriage and pedestrians were drowned out by the stillness surrounding them. The only people in the world that mattered were staring at one another, wishing life was not so cruel.

“I wish I could, Alfie. Truly…but not yet.”

He could feel his heart deflate but suddenly her hands were cupping his cheeks, forcing his eyes to meet her teary ones.

“I will turn eighteen this summer, and I can come see you. My father cannot stop me then. Try not to forget about me, sweetheart.”

“Never.”

With his promise, in full view of God himself and everyone on the street, she kissed him. It felt like their seal, their declaration towards one another. They would  find each other once again. The kiss ended far sooner then he would have liked but it was not like they could have a full snogging session tight there on the side of the street. Not that anyone could stop him if he wanted to.

Gingerly she took a step back. “Stay safe and be good, Alfie Solomons.”

“Miss Sarah, I am always on me best behavior.”

“I certainly hope not.” Her eyes lecherously trailed up his body. “I want to taste you again…and not just your lips.”

His trousers suddenly tight, he tried to ignore it and tease back. “How ‘bout next time I return the favor properly, yeah?”

“I will hold you to that.” With a wink she turned and walked towards the driver, still leaning against the car smoking a cigarette.

He greedily watched her, eyes soaking in every curve of her body to memorize until he could see her again. “Fuckin’ hell, that girl, yeah, be the death of me.”

As fate would decree, that summer would pass by slowly with distance between the young lovers. It would be two years before they saw one another. Two whole years in which the flames of their passion dwindled but never extinguished.

[cherrybracelets]

i need my girl [j. hopper x reader]

song inspo | hopper playlist 

word count: 4k / warnings: swearing, age gap, alcohol mention, smoking mention

an: this takes place about a year after the events of s3, but this version hop came home safe and sound!!!! this was hella emo and i sobbed a lot. anyways, please leave feedback, feel free to send me a kind message or two. whatever. and as always, listen to the song inspo and check out my hopper playlist i worked very hard on 

When you thought about what your life was like a few years ago, before you accidentally saw too much while taking the trash out one night and got sucked in to an entire government conspiracy, it was honestly quite boring. You didn't remember what you did with your days when you weren't hunting shadow monsters and protecting a kid with supernatural abilities. You also don't remember what life was like before you met Jim Hopper. Although, you knew things were definitely much easier.

You had spent most of the last year at his side, you two always being in the right place at the right time to save each other, always reaching for the other first in times of danger. At first you chalked it up to coincidence, sure that you were both just fighting the same battles (literally). But, after a few months of constantly finding yourself in his presence, you realized you couldn't quite live your life without him (again, literally).

Even when you weren't saving the world together, you loved to be by his side. You loved how much he made you laugh, and no matter how many times he heard a song, he still couldn't get the lyrics right. You were starting to have serious feelings for him, and before you knew it you were head over heels crushing. And he felt the same way. He hadn't felt romantic feelings towards someone in a long time, especially someone who was significantly younger than him, and it scared the shit out of him.

He tried for a long time to ignore it, push it deep down inside, but before he left for Russia, he left you a detailed letter explaining how he felt. It broke your heart, especially because you didn't know if you'd ever see him again. But he came home, and as soon as you saw him, he asked you if you had read his letter, and for some reason you said no. You had convinced yourself that things would never work with you two , and you were terrified to hurt him. He had gone through so much, he didn't deserve to be with someone with just as much trauma. With everything you'd been through together, it seemed impossible to have a healthy, light-hearted relationship, and that's what he deserved. He never asked again about the letter, and you just figured he came to the same conclusion when he was away.

But despite it all, he was still your best friend, and that's why almost every day around lunch time, you found yourself waiting outside his office to bring him his lunch. He wouldn't eat healthy unless you literally sat and watched him eat every bite of his salad. He was a dad now, he had to take care of himself for her. That's what you always said to him, but also, you wanted him to be around as long as possible, because you couldn't imagine a world without him.

You sat eagerly on a shitty chair, looking around the station for the millionth time, staring at the same posters and flyers. You held his salad, and your own, in a small paper bag on your lap. The scent of grilled chicken filling your nostrils and making your stomach rumble. You threw your head back in frustration, hoping whatever was keeping Hop from letting you in his office was worth it. Whenever he was late to anything, though, you got a twinge of fear deep inside of you, that somehow he had gotten hurt- or worse, killed. You shook the thought out of your head, knowing he was probably just stuck on the phone listening to Dan complain about the neighborhood kids cutting his flowers again.

Hoppers office door swung open, and he greeted you with a large smile. "Hey, sorry I'm late- some crazy lady called about 'evil' birds at the park," he said, chuckling slightly. He motioned for you to come in, to which you quickly hopped up and walked over. He closed the door behind you, taking his hat off and letting out a large sigh.

"Listen, I'm not saying I would rather be fighting Russians, but God this job can be boring sometimes," he groaned, grabbing his salad from the bag and opening the container grumpily.

"Don't say that, you'll jinx yourself. How much you wanna bet a huge emergency is gonna come in soon?" You responded, laughing to yourself.

"I highly doubt that." Hopper poured a cup of dressing onto his salad and mixed it around a bit, playing with the lettuce. "What are you up to tonight?" He asked, taking a bite of chicken.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Joyce set me up on some blind date with the pharmacist at her job," you answered in between large bites. You were too hungry to wait and make small talk with Hop today.

"A date?" He asked, shocked. His eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, an overall look of surprise covering his face.

"Yeah, according to her he's a great guy. We'll see, though, she set me up with some loser last month." You were staring at your food intensely, but looked up quickly to catch a look of disgust in Hoppers face.

"I didn't realize you were dating," he said in a hushed tone. He had put his fork down and crossed his hands on his desk.

"Sorry, it didn't seem like the type of thing I needed to run by you," you responded, sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at him, and continued eating. He just shook his head silently, picking up his fork and playing with his food again.

"I just figured it would be something you would've talked to me about, considering..." he trailed off.

"Considering what, Jim?" You looked up at him, his eyes locked on yours. You knew what he was thinking, what he so desperately wanted to say, to yell to you. Because you two loved each other. Although, it would never be said. It would never be said, because it couldn't happen. It wasn't supposed to happen.

"Nothing, never mind. Sorry." He stammered a bit over his words, and took a large bite of food to shut himself up. You two ate in silence for a few seconds, a thick fog of tension and awkwardness hanging between you. "Where are you guys going?" He asked.

"Enzo's. Six-thirty."

"Sounds good. Sounds really great..." He took another large bite and sighed. The two of you finished eating, only making light conversation through the rest of the lunch. You could tell he was upset, he wasn't doing a good job at hiding it. A part of you wished you'd never told him, but you knew he would have to know some day. You left pretty quickly after you finished eating, telling Hop you had to get back to work. But in all honesty, you just wanted to get out of there.

You walked back to work slowly, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed with life. You were getting that feeling in your chest and gut again, the same feeling you had when you read Hoppers leader for the first time. This feeling of intense love, not caring about anything else in the world except seeing him and holding him, protecting him from everything this world could throw at you. You wanted to run back into his office, wrap your hands around his face and kiss him, not let a single thing come between you.

But you shook it away, burned it out of your brain. You tried to think about what you were going to wear tonight, and how you were going to do you hair. Hopper really liked this blue dress you had, you wore it to El's birthday party this year. But it didn't matter what Hop liked, because this wasn't a date with him. So fuck the blue dress, you'll wear something else, something for you.

You continued walking quickly, back to your office, your mind sweeping your closet to find an outfit for tonight. For the first time since making the plans, you were actually kind of exciting. It would be nice to have a normal conversation with someone, for once. You had almost forgotten what it was like to talk about the weather, gossip about the locals, just be a normal adult. It kind of sounded boring, but safety was boring, you'd learnt that very well over the past year. There was suddenly a cold breeze of autumn air that rushed past you, raising goosebumps across your body. You felt yourself shiver as it passed you, a familiar dark feeling crawling over you. You shook it off, knowing you were perfectly safe in Hawkins, now. At least, that's what you had hoped.

You walked into your office building and took the elevator to your floor, trying to figure out what you could talk about tonight. You finished up your work for the day fairly quickly, it was slow at the office this time of year, and you were exceptionally bored today. When five o clock rolled around, and it was time to go home for the weekend, you happily walked out to your car and took in the fresh air. You didn't get much of it, closed away in your cubicle.

You drove home, enjoying singing along to the radio, windows rolled down and the crisp smell of pumpkins and changing leaves filling the space of your car. Fall was your absolute favorite time of year, there was something about the way nature felt so welcoming, so forgiving, during fall. The warm colors of the leaves felt like you were being wrapped up in blankets and a warm fire crackled away in front of you. The smell of crisp apples and the excitement of kids picking out their Halloween costumes. Your mind suddenly fell to El, remembering a few weeks ago when you promised you'd help her pick out a costume this year.

You loved El, and you loved whenever you got to make dinner for her and Hopper, renting girly rom coms and forcing him to watch while he just sat silently, rolling his eyes and grunting at every cheesy line. And after El would go to bed, you and Hop would sit on his deck, smoking and sharing a six pack of beer, watching the stars travel above you. There was one night, back in July, Max had invited El over for a sleepover, and it was just the two of you that night.

Hopper was off his ass drunk, trying to tell you about the stars, despite knowing absolutely nothing. He was pointing them out, giving them all names of people he knew, dying laughing as he mocked Steve and Mike.

"Do you see that one, up to your right?" He pointed to a large, glowing star, cigarette butt hanging in his fingers.

"Of course." You watched the way the moonlight brightened up his eyes, and you could see deep inside his soul. Perhaps you had had a bit too much to drink, as well. But to this day, you swear he had completely opened himself up that night. You had seen all of him, no rough shell protecting him, no grumpy exterior. Just... Hopper.

"That star is you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's the most beautiful one. The biggest, brightest. No matter what, I can't look away from it. Despite the thousands- no, millions of other stars up there, that's the one I will look at for the rest of my life." Hopper stared wide-eyed at the star, a smile growing on his face. You watched him, not sure what to say, wanting to know so badly how his lips would feel pressed against yours. What it would be like to love him.

"I gotta pee," he said, loudly, giggling as he stood up and walked inside. You sat on the porch, taking another sip of beer and a long drag of a cigarette. You stared at the star, burning in into your memory.

You were brought back from your thoughts when a car horn broke through your memory. You were sitting at a light that had turned green, and the people behind you were getting pissed. You waved your hand to apologize and began to drive, pulling onto your street. You finally got into your driveway and parked your car, taking a moment of silence before getting out and going inside. You were greeted by your dog, who was happily barking at the window as he saw you pull in.

You headed to your bedroom and began scouring through your closet, determined to find something incredible for tonight. Luckily for you, buried deep in the back was a forgotten dress from your sisters wedding. You pulled it out, smiling at the find. It was a deep plum that looked beautiful with your skin and hair color, and perfectly accented your curves in all the right ways. You couldn't believe you forgot about this! It was perfect!

You quickly curled your hair and freshened your makeup, doing your best to make yourself look somewhat together. You slipped into your purple dress and put on a pair of cute black heels. You did a double check in the mirror, flattening out the sides of your dress and flipping your hair a few different ways before settling on a style. You took a deep breath, feeling a rush of different emotions as you walked out your door and to your car. You drove slowly to the restaurant, keeping the windows rolled up to avoid the wind messing up your hair.

When you pulled up to Enzos, you handed your keys to the valet, and walked shyly inside. You stood at the podium, waiting for the hostess to come back from seating another couple.

"Hello, welcome to Enzos, how can I help you?" She smiled kindly at you, turning her head slightly while waiting for your response.

"Hi, I'm meeting someone here on a date. We had reservations, should be under Matt..." you trailed off, peaking down at her list.

"Oh, yes, those reservations were cancelled earlier today." She frowned at you, and double checked her list a few times.

"Uh, I'm sorry, that can't be right. Matt Palmer?" You shook your head in confusion, crossing your arms and letting out an annoyed sigh.

"Yes, miss, I'm sorry... He called around three to cancel. I spoke with him directly."

"Well, that's just great. I'm glad he called to let you know," you responded, angrily. You rolled your eyes in frustration. "Do you guys have a phone I can borrow?"

The girl looked slightly annoyed, but smiled through it and handed you their landline. You started dialing Matt's number, ready to scream at him for standing you up. Who cancels at the restaurant, but doesn't even have the decency to call his date himself?

Matt picked up, and cheerily said, "Hello, Matt speaking."

"Matt, hey, good to hear from you. It's (Y/N)... what the hell, dude? Did you seriously cancel our date and not tell me?" You were talking quite loudly, and were getting obvious stares from the elderly couple waiting to be seated. The hostess was staring at you, and awkwardly smiled when you made eye contact.

"Woah, (Y/N), I didn't want to cancel. I just talked to Joyce today, and she told me you didn't want to go anymore?" Matt sounded genuinely confused, his voice in full defense mode.

"What?" You whispered, shocked. "I haven't even talked to Joyce today... why the hell..." you trailed off, racking your brain as to why she would say that.

"Listen, I can meet you there in thirty minutes if you still want to go? I'm sorry for all the confusion, honest... I was excited for tonight! I bought new cologne!"

"Matt... I'll call you soon, okay, we can reschedule. I'm pretty sure I know exactly who pulled this shit." You angrily hung up the phone, stomping over to the hostess and handing her the phone.

"So, should I not put your name on the waiting list?"

"I think you know the answer to that," you responded, rolling your eyes and walking quickly out of the restaurant. You waited on the sidewalk for the valets to bring your car back around, fuming with anger. When your car got there, you hopped in quickly and sped off towards Hoppers house. You drove in silence, pushing your car way over the speed limit, fingers digging into the fabric of the steering wheel. When you pulled into his driveway, you got out of your car without even taking the keys out of the ignition, running to his front door and slamming on it, loudly.

"Hopper!!" You yelled. The door swung open, and a confused and sleepy looking Hopper answered, a cigarette hanging between his lips. "What the fuck, Jim? I know you told Joyce to cancel my date."

"What? Why would you think that?" He took the cigarette out and threw it in the ash tray next to him.

"Because, I know you were pissed about me going in the first place. I'm not stupid." You crossed your arms and raised your eyebrows at him, ready to hear his next excuse.

"Fuck, okay, I know. I'm sorry... I just... couldn't have you dating him." Hopper put his hand over his eyes and rubbed them, a frustrated groan escaping his lips.

"Why would you do that?" You watched him, watching his body slightly tense up, his hands balled into fists.

"Because, oh for fucks sake... I wrote it in that damn letter that you never got... I just..."

"I got the letter!" You yelled, interrupting his thoughts.

"You... what? Are you kidding me? God, that's fucking great, (Y/N), if you didn't feel the same way, you could've just told me instead of lying to my face about it for a year!" Hoppers lips were pursed, and he was screaming only inches from your face. You could feel the warmth of anger radiating from his body, and the slight smell of his tobacco and vanilla cologne.

"But I do feel the same way, Jim. I fucking do! But I can't... we can't... you deserve something normal, and someone normal... something without baggage, and trauma. Not me... you are a thousand times too good for me, Jim. I need to get out of here..." you mumbled, fumbling back to your car as tears started to rush down your face.

"Wait, don't go!" Hop yelled, slamming his front door behind him and crawling in his truck, turning it on to follow you. You began speeding away, Hopper not far behind you. He turned the lights and sires on in his truck, speeding up to get right on your tail. You shook your head angrily and pressed down on the gas pedal. He did the same, staying close to you.

"Pull over, (Y/N), please!" You heard through his megaphone. "It's illegal to run away from a police officer, ya know, I could have you thrown in jail for this!" He yelled again, laying on his horn a few times. Although you knew he would never actually put you in jail, a wave of nervousness flooded through you, and you pulled your car over into the shoulder of the road. Hopper pulled up behind you, stopping his car and turning off the sirens. Silence flooded around you for a moment, only able to hear the sound of your tears and heavy breathing.

Hopper walked up to your window, tapping on the glass with the butt end of his flashlight. You rolled your window down, and wiped the tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand.

"Do you know why I pulled you over today, miss?" He asked, crouching to meet you face to face. You let out a small laugh, although you tried not too.

"Hopper..." you muttered between breaths.

"(Y/N)... can you step out of the vehicle?" He motioned for you to come outside.

"Are you serious?"

"Are you ignoring a direct order from the chief of police?" He asked. You rolled your eyes, opening your door and standing outside, arms crossed and avoiding his eyes.

"There hasn't been a moment of my life in the past four years that has been normal. Not a single god damn thing, (Y/N). And I love it... the chaos, the adventure... I've saved people. I've saved you... El... I don't want a white-picket fence, golden retriever, apple pie life. I want you... I've wanted you since the first time you jumped in front of a Russian spy to save me... you are the most bad ass, beautiful, intelligent... amazing person I have ever met. You are my star, you are all I see." He pointed behind you, and you turned around to see the same bright, shining star that he compared you too only months ago.

You turned back to him, standing on your toes and cupping his face in your hands. "Hopper... I would spend the rest of my life protecting you if I could... when I read that letter, the first time, I didn't know if I would ever see you again. Every time I'm not with you I feel this large, emptiness sitting inside of me. And a fear... I am so scared without you. You make me feel safe... and loved."

"That's because I am so unbelievably in love with you. I don't want you on any fucking dates with any dumb ass pharmacists," he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I don't think I would be half the person I am today if you weren't by my side through all of this... you, El... you are my girls. In all honesty, a few years ago, I never thought I would be capable of loving anyone again. In a father way, or a romantic way... and then I met El... and I knew I had to protect her, be the dad I couldn't be with Sara. And then... you... I felt love again for the first time with you."

A single tear had fallen from Hoppers eye, and you wiped it away with your thumb. You pressed your face to his, and kissed him slowly. The first time you had ever kissed him, and it was just how you imagined it. Although his lips were just on yours, you felt it through your whole body, felt his love coursing through your veins. Being held by him was the most amazing feeling you had ever felt. His lips moved with yours, pouring out months of locked-up love, finally being himself, flooding all of his feelings into you.

You broke the kiss and pulled your face away, wanting to see him. Wanting to look at the man in front of you, opening himself up on the side of the highway. His eyes were shining brightly in the moonlight again, open portals to his soul, you seeing deep into him. And you felt yourself opening up, too. Everything you had felt, everything you had wanted to say, was finally all out in the open, hanging around the two of you, completely barricading you from the rest of the world. All you had was love, all you had was each other in that moment.

"Will you come home with me, please?" He whispered to you, holding your body close to his.

"That's all I want, Hop. I'll go anywhere you go." He kissed you on the forehead and pulled you even tighter, the coldness of the night finally settling on the two of you. Your star hanging in the distance above you, illuminating the darkness surrounding you. Now that you had each other, there was no longer any darkness. Your love would always illuminate the world around you, always keep you protected.

[airlinewaifu]

Dabi x Hero!Telepath!Reader

Okay, I typed this up while listening to sad music so its highkey angsty.

Word Count: 1694

Warnings: Physical Injury? (Not whump though), angst in general.

You let out a breath from your nose as you look back towards the now burning street after surviving a particularly nasty blow to the head.

It had started as a simple bank robbery, and had quickly began to spiral out of control as soon as you had seen the villain in charge.

"Hey! Y/H/N! Are you alright?"

It was Mount Lady who had gotten to you first, her eyes wide as Kamui Woods perched on her shoulder.

"The League's vanguard squad is getting more and more ballsy with their approach to recruitment." You wiped the back of your hand along your cheek, smearing a trail of blood and dirt from a brand new wound caused by your fall as your eyes searched for the League member who had literally shot you down.

You scanned the blue flames until- there!

Your eyes widened slowly and your vision blurred slightly at the edges as you recognized the man stepping out of the blue flames, patchwork, mottled skin sizzling with the scent of burning flesh.

He turned to look at you, your eyes locking with the villain’s and suddenly there was a wall of blue flames racing towards you as he reached his hand towards you, your eyes shut automatically as Mount Lady gave a cry, dodging the wall of fire, heading directly to you.

At least fire wasn't too bad of a way to go, you might be instantly vaporized with how hot this stuff was.

You opened your eyes as you realized you weren't  burning alive.

The literally gigantic wall of blue flames had surrounded you in a display of sheer power.

But they had also separated you from the other heroes, isolating you and the lead villain, who was making his way towards you now.

Surely this villain was going to play some demented game with you, that could really only culminate in your death at this point.

Your vision swam after the recent blow to the head that had knocked you down, and you were still sitting on the pavement.

With each heavy step of his boots on the pavement you had grown frozen in place, your entire life up until now flashing before your eyes, one glaring failure standing above the rest.

You had never found the one man you had ever loved, after he had disappeared.

You had never found Touya Todoroki.

-

It had been so easy back in High School. UA was the cream of the crop and students were given every resource to succeed.

Being in the Hero course was tough.

But being a Hero would be tougher, so you worked hard and made friends.

It was so easy to fall for Touya Todoroki that it had almost happened before you knew it yourself. The boy was funny and a bit of a rebel, something you liked, and before long the two of you would be holed up in your abysmally tiny apartment your parents had paid for so you could be close to school.

Sometimes doing anything but schoolwork.

Touya had told you his secrets, how his abusive father had tortured him for being so strong and having one weakness, how his father had kept the Todoroki children’s mother a prisoner in their home, how Endeavour ignored two of Touya’s younger siblings because their quirks hadn't suited his needs, and maybe most heartbreaking of all, how his  youngest brother had been born with the perfect combination and how Endeavour mercilessly trained and separated the young boy.

In turn, you had told Touya your secrets.

How you sometimes felt like having telekinesis was making you go crazy, all the inner voices of those around you playing like a never ending record in your head.

How sometimes you worried you would end up a villain.

It had been graduation night and after spilling out your fears and anxieties yet again you felt Touya pull you tighter to himself, his long arms wrapping around you, and right then Touya Todoroki promised he would never let you become a villain.

After high school Touya leaving your life had been a slow fade.

It took an entire summer, after he had told you his mom was moving out.

He would take longer to answer messages, miss a few calls, ignore a few snapchats from you.

You would lie in bed with all the curtains and blinds drawn in the wee hours of the morning, after your patrol. Being a Hero out of the spotlight wasn't easy. It meant having to be up late and patrol crappy neighborhoods.

It also meant you had been so busy that although you missed Touya with your entire heart when he wasn't there, you simply didnt have the energy to call him out on it and start a fight when he was.

It was easier to let him tell you he couldn't be with you and didn't want to hurt you.

It was easier to watch him pack what little items he kept at your place and leave.

It was easier to make excuses to your friends that he had just left you in the middle of the night, and disappeared without a trace.

It was easier to softly confess ignorance when former classmates who would ask you where Touya had gone.

It was easier to live with the lie that one day, he would come back for you.

-

You struggled to rise to your feet as the tall figure emerged from the flames and stretched his arms wide in front of you.

"Princess, what a surprise to see you here."

A chill went down your spine as the voice of Touya Todoroki called to you from the body of a Villain.

'Don't try it Princess, I know you'll be trying your old move of reading my thoughts to know my next move.' His thoughts were as clear as a bell as he crossed the now-battlefield.

You looked at the man who was now more inches from you.

He smirked and leaned down to speak softly into your ear,

"Now Princess, I need you to stay down. I wouldn’t want to put a mark on a pretty little thing like you.”

Your chest tightened as your mouth gaped open and shut a few times, words struggling to come out.

You had no comebacks.

No witty jokes.

The eyes of a man you had once harbored a love for now gazed at you from an unfamiliar face.

Your vision was starting to go hazy from the smoke around you, the heat pressing down on you like a heavy boot on your back.

You foggily realized that it wasn't the heat, but actually the boot of this villain, steadily and, surprisingly enough, rather gently pressing you down towards the charred pavement.

“T-touya? Why would you do this?” You coughed and gasped as soot floated towards you.

“I do what I want now, Princess, I have complete freedom,” The villain chuckled lowly as he crouched to look into your eyes, your vision starting to sting and blur, “Oh, and by the way, Touya Todoroki is dead. It’s Dabi now.”

You wrenched your eyes shut, tears flowing down your cheeks as your eyes tried to clear themselves of soot and ash, somewhere in the distance someone was calling out to you, another pro hero, hopefully.

“You’re still at that shitty apartment, right Princess? Maybe I’ll drop by sometime.”

Your eyes stayed closed as you felt your body start to go limp, the heat and earlier headwound finally catching up to you.

And then the world went dark.

Five Months Later -

You heard the door to your balcony click as Dabi entered your apartment, turning to look at you with passive turquoise eyes before he slid into the bathroom, pulling out antibiotic ointment and gauze.

You stood in the doorway to the kitchen, before padding down the hall and into the bathroom doorway.

Dabi’s eyes slid back to you as you reached for the gauze and guided him towards the bed.

You watched him perch on the bed, his jaw tensing as he tried not to look up at you and move his neck.

You had learned that this was his weakness, everytime Dabi used his powers he was burning his own skin off.

You breathed shallowly through your nose as you gingerly sat on his lap, dabbing at the skin on his neck with a wet cloth with a frown.

You wanted to say something.

You wanted to say so much.

But you didnt want to make Dabi run.

You finally had Touya back, sort of.

Dabi was quieter than Touya ever was, his previously never ending stream of jokes had run dry.

Dabi was much more serious.

So serious that you actually didnt think you had heard him crack a joke in the embarrassingly long period of time he had been coming over like this.

It was easy to fall into the pattern though.

Dabi would come over after a fight or really just whenever. You wouldn't ask any questions, just help him patch himself back together again, before spending the night together.

You finished wrapping the gauze around his hand and leaned back onto his lap, eyes scanning his frame for any untreated burns.

Without any warning, Dabi wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him so that you were lying on his chest, his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"How long can we keep doing this?" It was Dabi who spoke first, arms tightening around your waist.

You were at a loss.

How long could you keep doing this?

You hadn't faced him in a fight since the first time you had encountered him after his 'transformation' and you knew that if you did you surely couldn't throw the battle just because you didnt want to hurt him.

You curled in closer to his body, willing time to stop outside of your apartment.

"I don't know."

The two of you stared up at the ceiling, bodies entangled despite the summer heat as you leaned into Dabi and closed your eyes before drifting off to sleep.

It was easier this way.

[haeddoti]

This is my first blog-post and it is about some of the books I read between year 7 and 11 in my German high school. These books aren’t in a particular order, I just wrote all of them down and took some notes to guide me along. I’ll give a brief summary and then my thoughts about the books.

Without further due, let’s get into the series!

Nr. 1 “Hexen in der Stadt-Ingeborg Engelhardt”

We read this book in seventh grade and immediately after reading (actually during reading as well) we asked ourselves how and why someone thought “Hell yeah, that’s a topic for 11 year olds” since the book is originally listed for grade 5 and 6.

The story takes place in a German town during the Thirty years war, the witch hunts are running wild and the church is all over the place. The story follows a family of four who live in this town, the father is a doctor, one daughter is read-headed and the other a sleep walker. And although the father is greatly needed in this time, the towns people are really suspicious of the family, and they have to flee the city.

First of all, the book was so dense, it was almost unbearable. Definitely not something for children and yet the book won the “Youth literature award” in Germany, so I guess it wasn’t too bad after all. I honestly don’t remember a lot from it, I know we watched a horrible movie about it and I also remember that the pacing(?) in the book was weird, because the first 80% or so took reaaaally long to read through and virtually nothing happened and then in the last 20% everything happened all at once and it was just too much.

Nr. 2 “Am kürzeren Ende der Sonnenallee-Thomas Brussig”

The only (apparent) reason why we read this book was because we had our final class trip to Berlin in year 10.

 The setting is the DDR, East-Berlin to be precise, somewhere around 1970ish. Our protagonist Micha lives in a street which was cut in half my the Berlin Wall and he, unfortunately enough, lives in East-Berlin. He frequent meets with his friends in a nearby park where they listen to West-Music and swoon about Miriam, the neighborhood beauty who is kinda a not-like-other-girls-girl.

All in all, the books is about searching happiness and thinking about how it is so very close and yet never being able to reach it.

It was comfortable to read and overall it was an okay novel. I don’t remember much about it, although I literally read it a year ago. The insight about east-Berlin was cool, and the author definitely implemented own experiences and as someone who grew up in post-split Westgermany it was rather informative and interesting. The quote on the back of the book was also pretty.

“Happy people have a bad memory and rich memoirs”

Nr. 3 “Frühlings Erwachen-Frank Wendekind”

(Springs Awakening)

Oh. My. God. This whole topic was such a BS and I hated every second of it.

The book takes place, once again, in a German Town in a time where there is no Sex-Ed, aka 1900th century, which is also the topic of the book; Sex-Ed gone wrong. Our first protagonist Wendla grows up in a home with a loving, strict mother and far, far away from everything unholy like sex. Our second protagonist, Melchior, is a really smart, really handsome boy who is the top of his class and who likes to read provocative literature which makes him think about masturbation. His best friend is also handsome but really stupid but the social pressure keeps him from dropping out of school- that and his strict, abusive father. Melchior and Wendla fall in love (he hits her with sticks after she metions that she has never been hurt before), have Sex(he rapes her) and after Wendla gets pregnant and dies after an attempted abortion via poisonous plants her aunt have her, Melchior is only mildly devastated. He turns sad, and kinda crazy, after his best friend commits suicide. He has a rendez-vous with the ghost and death itself, he is happy again? I dunno, the whole book was all over the place.

Worse than the book was the discussions we had in class afterwards. One time we had to argue whether it was in-fact rape or if it was just sex. Second discussion we had was about Wendla being a masochist.

The worst thing about the whole topic was the stupid ass movie adaptation.

You think Percy Jackson has it bad? Oh boy. Ohhh boy. The movie plays in the 2000s, graffiti, cool skater boys, rapper-wannabes and early 2000s fashion included. The names stayed tho, cause why not name the male protagonist Melchior in 2001. There are scenes where teenagers, TEENAGERS, go to a brothel. Ah, I forgot.

They are 13-14, book and movie alike.

10/10 would NOT recommend.

Nr. 4 “Der Besuch der alten Dame-Friedrich Dürrenmatt”

(The visit)

(No, not the horror movie)

Oh my goodness, I loved this book.

Picture this. A small town in a German province far away from any major cities with a single trail connection between Hambourg and Zurich, aka the whole length of Germany, where virtually nothing happens. One day, a former resident, comes for a visit. But not just anyone, Claire frikking Zachanassian comes for a visit.

And for blood, because this sixty-something, badass multi-billionaire who got her fortune by marrying a bunch of men who died coincidentally one after the other proposes to the town an offer.

One billion for the head of the man, Alfred the third, who expelled her out of the town after getting her pregnant and lying about it in court after she sued him.

They sent her away in the train, called her a hoe and laughed about her. She lived in a brother for a little while, her son died, and a horny, rich man decided to marry her because why not.  

At first the towns people are disgusted by the offer, outraged by the immoral offer and they straight up deny it. “I’ll wait, Claire says”.

You see, the town is really, really poor. Not only because it is in a terrible location commercially wise, but also because Claire bought every factory in the town and brought them all to a stand still to slowly dry the city out. She planned this revenge.

And you see, the proposal of 500 million split between the inhabitants and 500 million for the industry of the city sounds great if you are on the brink of disaster and hunger and misery. But surely, with such an immoral offer, no one would want to commit a crime? Or would they.

Because, now that I look at it, Alfred really did something horrible… maybe, just maybe I can allow myself to stack up some dept.

And Alfred grew more and more paranoid. Begging Claire to stop this, apologizing on his knees, crying and sleeping with one open eye at all times.

We discussed in our class what we would do. We didn’t really came to a conclusion since we had nothing to compare, not one of us was ever asked to make such a decision. “It depends” was our final answer.

They do kill him in the end. It doesn’t end happy, Claire isn’t happy, but she does give the towns people their money. I really enjoyed reading this book. The female “antagonist” was refreshingly bad-ass and the moral despair was entertaining to read.

We learn that Claire is rich and powerful, but that she lost so much innocence, so much energy to enjoy her life in such young years that, as a reader, you cannot not sympathize with her.

Nr. 5 “Das Versprechen-Friedrich Dürrenmatt”

(The pledge)

Hands down the best book I’ve read in school.

This book is originally a critique by Dürrenmatt about the emerging detective novel genre where everything always works out.

The setting is in a Swiss town, 1950ish, and in the beginning the reader takes on the role of an author who meets a certain Dr. H who works for the police. They become friends and take a ride through the mountains. Upon taking a stop at a gas station, Dr. H introduces us to a seemingly old, smoking, alcohol-reeking man and a scruffy looking girl. The narrator is confused, asks who these people are, and back in the car, we learn that this is the former detective, no-one-escapes-me, super-brain Matthäi.

From that point on the narrator switches and we are now in a third person narrator perspective.

Matthäi is introduced again, this happening in the past, as a hard-working, clean, structured man who doesn’t smoke, drink or disobeys rules. No one really likes him in the office, but they value that he just so good at his job. But because he is so unapproachable, they want to sent him away to Jordan.

The week he was planning to travel there, a young girl is raped and then brutally murdered in a small town nearby. And because he is Mister Superbrain, he goes there to help investigate.

The other officers at the crime scene are (understandably) uncomfortable, they don’t want to talk to the family, or the people there in general. So Matthäi talks to everyone. He is a very calm, collected, cold man. So he meets with the family, tells them what happened to their daughter and is utterly, completely shocked when the mother just blankly stares in his face, and asks him to promise her to find the murderer of her daughter. He is shocked by the lack of emotion in this moment and sees himself in this cold visage of the mother. He promises her, just to get away from her as fast as possible, and drives back to be office.

I don’t want to spoil too much because this book is just so good, but oh my god

I’m in general a sucker for drastic changes in character or demeanor (hence why I liked The Visit so much as well) but his book takes everything to another level. They “plottwist” is so incredibly frustrating and nerve wraking to read, the perspective changes provide so much more depth.

And for the first time I finally read a really intricate, morally gray character.

Nr. 6 “Nathan der Weise-G. E. Lessing”

(Nathan the Wise)

This book was kinda eh. If I had so summarize it as fast as possible it would probably be “Religion and accidental incest”. It is about the three world religions and stereotypes between them, about genocide and also about stigmatization. It ends on a nice note, tho.

The only really remarkable passage of this book is the so-called “Ringparabel” in which Nathan answers to the question which religion is the real, big OG of them all. It is pretty nice and the symbolism is really fitting as well. The beginning of the book is incredibly boring but it does get better in the end. All in all not a total waste of time and money but nothing I would read again.

Nr. 7 “Die Leiden des jungen Werther- Goethe”

(The sorrows of young Werther)

Ah yes, no German class without Goethe. This book is written in a way that lets the reader really seep into Werthers emotion because it is written as a letter-novel. Werther is a young, nature-loving guy who (in the beginning of the book) is just really happy, go-lucky and over all nice. Then he meets Lotte, a young, pretty, smart and book-loving woman who is empathic to all those around her.  He falls in love with her, despite knowing that she is literally engaged and about to marry. She knows he loves her, her fiance know he loves her and literally everyone knows he loves her and they are ok with it? I dunno. Werther has a severe Seasonal-affective-Disorder. He kinda makes it through the first winter after meeting Lotte but never really recovers, even during summer. In the second winter, he can’t take it anymore and he commits suicide.

I liked the book (not only because I can identify with the SAD). In the end we learn that Lotte isn’t as good as we originally think she is; She is actually really possessive of Werther and although she wants him to be happy, she doesn’t think anyone is good enough for him and thus he should just stay close to her. She enjoys the attention given by her husband, who is actually really nice and whom she does love, and by Werther who is utterly and completely obsessed with her.

Opinions on this book split 50/50 with my friends. Some of them think like me and they see the heart break and the desire to move on but ultimately, the way attraction is so so strong. Some other friends, more specifically my Help-with-Maths-Go-to-Guy hated this book with a burning passion. I can see why. The imagery is sometimes a tad too far-fetched and the wording is, in true Goethe-Fashion really hard to read and the sentences are kinda messed up as well.

But in the end it is still the book which opened the way for Goethe to be one of the greatest writers in Europe and I can see why.

Oh wow. This concludes all the books I read thus far. There will be definitely more to come next year and maybe I’ll do another post like this once I read some more.

I hope you enjoyed to read my thoughts and maybe felt inspired to look into one of these as well!

See you soon!

[dustinreidmusic]

DR. JOHN BIO

“All my sisters married doctors”, said Dorothy Cronin Rebennack, the mother of Mac Rebennack. “ But only I had a Dr. John”. Indeed, there can be only one Malcolm Rebennack, aka “ Doctor John Creaux, the Night Tripper”. There can only be one walking repository of the storied city of New Orleans’ thriving musical history. There can be only one author of such classic songs as “ Right Place, Wrong Time”, “ Such A Night”, “Litanie Des Saintes”, and “I Walk On Gilded Splinters”. There can be only one torchbearer for the Crescent City sound as it second-lines its way into its fourth century. So Mrs. Rebennack was right -- physicians are indeed a dime a dozen in this doctor-clogged country; but a musician of her son’s caliber comes along but once in a very blue moon. Malcolm John Rebennack Jr. was born in New Orleans a full month after term on Thanksgiving Day (November 20) 1942. Weighing a full ten pounds, Mac, as he came to be called, was born into a music-loving family in America’s most musical city. While still an infant, Rebennack starred as a model for various baby products, and showed remarkable musical ability in early childhood. By the age of three he was already hammering out melodies on the family piano, and soon exhausted the talents of the nun who was hired to give him lessons some years later. “If I play what his next lesson is going to be”, the sister complained, “he will play it right behind me, note for note”, His good-timing Aunt Andre, who it can be safe to assume had funkier taste than the nun, taught him the “Pinetop Boogie-Woogie”. My aunt was a groovy old broad”, Rebennack recalled in “Up from the Cradle of Jazz”. “I used to drive everybody mad playing it”. Malcolm Rebennack Sr. was an appliance store owner who, as is traditional in New Orleans, also stocked the latest hit records. Thus young Mac was privy from early childhood to almost any music he wanted. Some years later the Rebennack appliance store was forced to close, and Mac lost his pipeline to the goldmine. But soon his father found work in a line even better suited to those of musical bent: PA system repair. The two Rebennacks would often be seen trundling in tandem to various nightclubs around town, bloodbucket dives with names like the Pepper Pot and the Cadillac Club. Always forbidden to enter the clubs, Mac would wait for his father to repair the system, and then peer in and dissect the musicians. It was at the Pepper Pot, in fact, and in this manner that Mac first saw Professor Longhair’s magical keyboard frolics. At the age of seven Rebennack suffered through a bout of malaria. Even as a child, the over-modest Mac had decided that he could never cut it as a pianist in New Orleans. As he remembered wondering, “How was I going to complete with killer players like Tuts Washington? Salvador Doucette? Herbert Santina? Professor Longhair himself? And the list only began there”. He had, even before his illness, agitated to take up the guitar. His long convalescence enabled him to air his plea with such incessancy, such vehemence, that his beleaguered parents finally gave in. He was sent for instruction to Werlein’s Music Store on Canal Street, already at that time a New Orleans institution and still in business today. His teacher soon sussed that Mac was going to be a difficult, if talented student. The instructor delivered a verdict along the line of, “Good ear, will never learn to read music”. The fancy, store-bought lessons ceased forthwith; but Mac was still hard at it. He locked himself in his room for weeks on end, learning by ear the licks of his twin idols of the time: T-Bone Walker and Lightning Hopkins. “If I can’t make it as T-Bone, I’ll try Lightning, he told himself. His father, seeing that his son had a talent and drive, and being himself connected in the music scene, made a wonderful decision. He persuaded Walter “Papoose” Nelson to instruct his son. Papoose was Fats Domino’s lead guitarist (and the son of Louis Armstrong’s lead guitarist) and had long been a hero to Rebennack. As Mac recalled: “The first lesson, Papoose listened to my chops and said ‘Hey, man, you can’t play that shit and get a job. What are you, crazy? That outta-meter, foot-beater jive. You gotta play stuff like this’. Then he started playing legitimate blues, which I was on the trail of with T-Bone Walker. It was the Lightning shuffle that was off the wall as far as Papoose was concerned”. Papoose’s primary contributions to Mac’s musical education were twofold. First, it was Nelson who finally won Mac over to the benefits of learning to read music. Second, to impart musical discipline, Nelson would force Mac to play rhythm guitar for hours on end, never allowing him a solo. Mac’s next teacher, Roy Montrell, also imparted a valuable lesson. To his first lesson with this new teacher, Mac bounded in with his brand new guitar, “a cheap but flashy-looking green-and-black Harmony”. Roy took at the guitar and (said) ‘Why’d you bring this piece of shit over here?’ ‘It’s my guitar’, I said. ‘Give me that guitar’. He took it, walked outside into the backyard, laid it on the ground, picked up an axe, and split it right in half. Then he broke it in pieces and threw it in the neighbour’s yard”. That done, he called Malcolm Rebennack Sr. on the phone and arranged for Mac to come back next week with a second-hand Gibson, an axe that Mac found himself working overtime with his father to pay for. By the time Mac was on the cusp of his teens, he was a somewhat streetwise musician, hanging out in black clubs and scoring drugs in the projects for his older “junko partners”, or drug-buddies. Soon he was smoking pot himself, and in due course he progressed to pills, coke, and eventually junk. All the while, he was attending the south’s most prestigious Catholic high school, New Orleans Jesuit. In class, he daydreamed and wrote songs, which he would deliver to the offices at Specialty Records, and plotted gigs with several high school bands. Something had to give, and as one can imagine, it was school. He dropped out a year of graduation and later, while in prison, obtained a correspondence course diploma. Not that in his lines of work he needed any such qualification. Soon he was a fully-fledged constituent of the New Orleans underworld. In addition to his burgeoning songwriting work, his session playing, and road gigs both local and regional, Mac attempted half-hearted sidelines such as pimping, forgery, and as an auteur of pornographic movies. His running buddies included street characters with names like Opium Rose, Betty Boobs, Stalebread Charlie, Buckethead Billy, and Mr. Oaks and Herbs. Meanwhile, he entered into a star-crossed, drug-sodden marriage to Lydia Crow. Lydia, though no shrinking violet herself, did attempt to go straight from time to time. But Mac would hear nothing of it, and their marriage ended by 1961. His personal life a shambles, Mac’s professional life was faring better. He was kicking serious ass in the studio, and it is his guitar one still hears today on Professor Longhair’s, “Mardi Gras in New Orleans”. Mac-penned tunes like “Losing Battle” (a hit for Johnny Adams) and “Losing Battle” (recorded by Jerry Byrne) (the same song?) were just two of his fifty compositions recorded in New Orleans between 1955 and 1963. But (as is well-known today) the record companies of the 1950’s were not exactly ready coughers-up of royalties, so most of Mac’s compensation came from his sessions, gigs, and mostly ludicrous street tough sidelines. One such example of the corruption of the New Orleans music business of the ‘50s will suffice. Rebennack wrote a song entitled, “Try Not To Think About You” which languished unrecorded in the offices at Specialty Records for a while. Unrecorded, and more importantly, uncopyrighted. It eventually came to the attention of Lloyd Price, who changed the title to “Lady Luck”, switched record labels, and changed the composer’s name to - you guessed it - Lloyd Price. It would have been Rebennack’s biggest hit up to that date. After literally stalking Price, gun in hand (Mac planned on wasting him backstage after a show) for some time, he finally cooled off and chalked it up to bitter experience. An absurd coda ensured, when Rebennack’s parents unknowingly hired Price’s own attorney to sue Price for the royalties from “Lady Luck”. The lawyer, Mac related, “pocketed the change and did nothing. for a minute, I was afraid if I ever ran across that bastard, I’d kill him, too”. Such chicanery aside, New Orleans of the 1950s was a paradise for musicians. Always a wide-open town (by American standards), the Crescent City was never more raucous and hard-partying than it was then. Gigs abounded in the all-night bars, bordellos, tourist joints, society haunts, and neighborhood taverns. That Rebennack was far ahead of his time regarding race helped him find work, but also earned him some less-enlightened enemies on both sides of the color line. He began to run into flak from the two musician’s union (one black, one white) for having the temerity to play with opposite-hued musicians. Eventually these unions and the crusading, publicity-seeking New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison were to conspire to run Rebennack and most of the rest of the New Orleans music scene right out of town. The union began levying exorbitant fines on Rebennack (officially for playing scab sessions) and blacklisting record producers (like the legendary Cosimo Matassa) who dared to buy the latest equipment. Their short-sighted thinking was that new equipment would equal less studio time instead of more polished records and bigger hits. Garrison, for his part, launched a crusade on vice which closed down the thriving whorehouses and gambling dens, both important sources of income for both the music and tourist industries. Rebennack’s troubles were only beginning. A fracas with a Jacksonville, Florida hotelier resulted in Rebennack getting the ring finger shot nearly off his left hand. Doctors reconstructed the finger to a degree, but not to the point that would enable him to resume making a living with a guitar. He was forced into playing bass with the tourist-oriented French Quarter Dixieland bands, a gig that convulsed him with boredom. He sank deeper than ever into heroin, and it was then that his marriage ended. To top it all, he was busted by Garrison’s goons for heroin possession, a charge that was to send him eventually to a Federal prison hospital in Fort Worth, Texas. There he served as a guinea pig for the various and infamous rehabilitation experiments then -as now - rampant in the land. He was released embittered but not in the least rehabilitated. He returned briefly to New Orleans and was given some pointers on the organ from Crescent City keyboard maestro James Booker. However, he soon soured on Garrison’s Brave New Orleans and at the invitation of an old friend (saxophonist/arranger Harold Battiste) flew out to Los Angeles. A contingent of New Orleans musicians had already set up shop in the City of Angels, and Rebennack fell quickly to work doing studio odd jobs under the auspices of Battiste. Battiste was the brains (ahem) behind Sonny & Cher, and was a close associate of Phil Spector. Battiste mortared Rebennack in on some of Spector’s sessions, but Mac did not enjoy being just another brick in the ‘Wall of Sound’. He called it, “a monument to waste with echo all over the place! It was just padding the payroll, as far as I could see”. He held down a brief stint as Frank Zappa’s pianist, but found that stultifying as well. This gave him an entrée into the acid rock world, in his words, “all these little acid groups springing up like mutant fungus after a chemical spill”. He attempted to work with Iron Butterfly, whom he termed “Iron Butterfingers” and Buffalo Springfield to little if any effect. A frustrating term as in-house producer with Mercury Records followed, but Rebennack and his cohorts suspected that it was just a tax dodge. He was more musically frustrated than he had ever been in New Orleans, and his drug woes continued unabated. As a parolee, he was under the watchful eyes of a great many government agencies as well. But slowly, the concept was forming that was to take him to heights he wouldn’t have dared dreamt possible. Growing up in New Orleans, Rebennack had eagerly immersed himself in the City’s myriad native traditions and home-grown Afro-Latin religions. He himself was a half-hearted practitioner of gris-gris, New Orleans’ own unique branch of the voodoo tree. In his avid studies of the history and religion of the city, he had thrilled to the stories of John Montaigne aka Bayou John aka and most frequently, Dr.John. John was a Senegalese of self-proclaimed royal lineage who had been taken from Africa by slavers to Cuba. There he won his freedom, and shipped out as a sailor before eventually choosing to settle in New Orleans. He set up shop as a shaman, telling fortunes, healing, and selling a cornucopia of hexes. He was good at his job, and eventually prospered to the point where he even owned slaves himself. The kicker for Rebennack was coming across an account of a 19th Century vice bust in which John was arrested with one Pauline Rebennack for voodoo-related offences and suspicion of operating a whorehouse. For years, Mac had felt a spiritual kinship for Dr.John, and this account raised the quite possibility that one of his family had had the same feelings. Even so, the idea that Rebennack had been ruminating cast his friend Ronnie Barron in the roll of Dr. John. But when the project was finally greenlighted, Barron had other contractual duties and Rebennack reluctantly assumed the mantle himself. Between Sonny & Cher sessions, virtually on the sly, Rebennack recorded the “Gris Gris” album with a band of New Orleans natives. Atlantic executive Ahmet Ertegun was at first displeased with the move. “Why did you give me this shit”?, Rebennack remembers Ertegun bellowing. “How can we market this boogaloo crap”? Eventually the canny Ertegun sniffed something in the late-’60s zeitgeist that could enable an off-the-wall act like Dr.John to sell, and he (to Rebennack’s surprise) released the album. On “Gris Gris”, Rebennack played very little keyboard, contributing only organ parts on two tracks (“Mama Roux” and Danse Kalinda”). His aim was to introduce America to New Orleans’ mystical side, and also to “let us musicians get into a stretched-out New Orleans groove”. The album sold well enough to appease the suits, with very little backing, and meanwhile Rebennack’s fertile mind was cooking up a killer road show. Drawing on the venerable southern minstrel tradition and the pageantry of the Mardi Gras Indians, Dr.John and the Night Trippers’ road show boasted snake-festooned dancers, magic tricks, and costumes manufactured from the carcasses of virtually every living creature that ever crawled, slithered or flew in the bayou country. As Rebennack recalled, “When this stuff started coming apart in pieces, I had to start hanging around taxidermy shops big-time, scavenging new material.” He and his similarly attired band of New Orleans roughnecks unleashed this act the acid-drenched southern California of 1968 to no little astonishment. But by the time “Babylon”, the Night Tripper’s second album came out, the band began to dissolve. Rebennack (along with the most of the rest of America) felt the end time was at hand, as the title implies. The album reflects Rebennack’s chaotic personal life - his drug use and police persecution, his dissolving band -- and the state of American life in 1968, a year in which it seemed that violet revolution was at hand. It was a year in which both Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King fell to assassins, riots consumed black ghettos in flames from Miami to Watts, and the Vietcong launched the ferocious TET offensive. The album features odd time signatures (11/4, 5/4,10/4), doom-laden lyrics, and hybrid Afro-Caribbean/avant-garde jazz feeling. As Rebennack later said, “ It was as if Hieronymus Bosch had cut an album”. Who better to chronicle those disorderly times? Things were about to get extremely untidy for Rebennack again, as well. While touring in support of “Gris-Gris”, the Night Trippers had been busted in St. Louis, and Rebennack as frontman shouldered the load. A lawyer arranged a deal in which Charlie Green (the manager of Sonny & Cher and Buffalo Springfield) was to pay off the St. Louis bail bondsman. The bondsman, unbeknownst to Rebennack, never collected. Green and partner Brian Stone then confronted Rebennack with the proverbial “Offer you can’t refuse”. Since he had gotten Rebennack sprung, Green put it to Mac, we get to manage you from now on. Rebennack, frazzled, saw no alternative. Green proved to be the worst of all managerial archetypes, the would-be star. Mac recalled, “He thought of himself as the star and me as the roadie of the operation. Even though I wasn’t on no kind of star trip or nothing, I didn’t want my manager hanging around, running some kind of Jumpin’ Jack Flash number and trying to upstage me. Beyond that was the basic problem: a drugged out band hooked up with a starry-eyed manager results in a chemically unbalanced situation and, in general, a fearsome sight to behold.” While at work on “Remedies”, the third of five of Rebennack’s Atlantic releases, Green and Stone persuaded Rebennack to check himself into a loony-bin, with an eye toward having him declared incompetent. This move would allow them to help themselves to a slightly higher percentage of Rebennack’s earnings than their current 25%, something more along the lines of 100%. Rebennack quickly wised up, escaped from the asylum, and exiled himself to Miami. Meanwhile, the managers had released the unfinished “Remedies” album. One of Rebennack’s chief aims for the album was to spread the news about Louisiana’s notorious Angola Farm, then as now America’s most deplorable and inhumane prison. Rebennack, incommunicado in Miami, was thus unable to put wise the Rolling Stone reviewer who took his lament Angola Anthem to be a protest song about the nation of Angola. A disastrous European tour followed, one in which was Mac was hamstrung by a third string band (most of the Night Trippers were unable to get visas). The tour was augured in by Mac from backstage the electrocution death of the Stone the Crows guitarist Les Harvey at a festival. At Montreux, his bass player without warning dropped his bass and brandished a trombone which he had concealed in the wings, and proceeded to (Rebennack related) “start dancing around the stage, playing Pied Piper to the audience’s mountain villagers”. At the end of this arduous road, Mac headed for London to round up session players for the album “The Sun, Moon, and Herbs”. Graham Bond, Eric Clapton, Ray Draper, Walter Davis Jr., Mick Jagger, Doris Troy, and a battery of drummers from virtually every West African and Caribbean country were on hand for a days-long, Opium and hash-fuelled epic of a session. He delivered the finished article to Green for post-production work a happy man. Some weeks later, Rebennack returned to find his beloved album chopped, diced, and filleted by Green. Material was added and deleted, more was overdubbed. Most of what Rebennack felt was the best music was simply gone. In addition, it came to his attention (when he was alerted to a pair of bounty hunters at his doorstep) that Green had not, in fact, bailed him out of anything. Green was summarily dismissed, and Rebennack and some engineers endeavored to salvage what they could of the “Sun, Moon, and Herbs” album. He signed next with manager Albert Grossman, of Joplin, Dylan, and The Band fame. He was the manager who “electrified” Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival, which touched off a brawl between himself and folklorist Alan Lomax in front of several thousand bemused folkies. Lomax, though, was not the only one in the music scene who wanted a piece of Grossman. Soon enough, Grossman and Rebennack came nearly to blows. Grossman’s style was to play it cool with his artist, while his “bad-cop” flunkie Bennett Glotzer delivered such news as, “Thanks for signing with us. We now control 1/3 of your publishing”. Glotzer and Rebennack had two punch-outs, and things got so bad that Rebennack turned to his native gris-gris. He would each day leave a dead bird on Glotzer’s doorstep, surrounding by black candles and sprinkled with “goofer dust”. Eventually, this hell-broth boiled over when, in a tête-à-tête with Grossman, an enraged Rebennack snatched Grossman’s beloved peyote button, a pet psychedelic Grossman had been nurturing for three years, and devoured it, skin, pulp, stem and all, in front of his very eyes. The relationship dissolved into a maelstrom of threat and counter-threats, and now Rebennack had not one, but two oddball ex-managers scheming for his destruction. Somehow, Mac found the time to sit in the Rolling Stones’ “Exile On Main Street” sessions, and also to record one of his best albums ever. (While in the studio with the Stones, he discussed with them his and New Orleans songwriter Earl King’s idea for an album of dirty blues tunes. Back in the fifties, when he played the after hours joints, he had often played for an audience of street characters x-rated versions of old blues tunes. The Stones demurred, but later released “Cocksucker Blues” on their own, which irked Rebennack. He felt that since he had given them the idea, he should be compensated) His own effort produced “Gumbo”, an album steeped in the New Orleans of his youth. Featuring covers of songs by King, Professor Longhair, and several other lesser lights of that time and place, the album was his most direct tribute to his home turf to that date. To back the album, Mac ditched the voodoo shtick he had employed on the road since 1967 in favour of a revue format. As Mac termed it, he had “enough of the mighty-coo-de-fiyo hoodoo show”. The Gumbo tour, backed heavily by Atlantic, reached Carnegie Hall and other such bastions of the high life, and a single, ”Iko Iko”, cracked the top 40. The dark cloud to this silver lining was that hard on the heels of his chart success, several of his past employers saw fit to release albums of demos. Among them were Green, Huey Meaux (with whom Rebennack had worked as a session producer) and an unknown cast of characters. This very collection is one such unfinished product. Meanwhile, Rebennack had seen fit to employ yet another volatile, less than 10% straight forward manager. Phil Walden, who had hit the big-time managing Otis Redding was then cresting on the Allman Brothers doomed wave, and he also handled Rebennack’s New Orleans chums, The Meters. Clearly Rebennack thought, here at last was a manager with the Midas touch. In 1973, Rebennack and the Meters hit the studio together to record “In The Right Place”. At first, things with Walden and the album went swimmingly. Walden booked Mac and The Meters on some Allman tours, on which Rebennack enjoyed himself immensely, both professionally and personally. The album scored him both his biggest hit (the title track) and perhaps his most enduring composition. “Such a Night” is a stone-cold classic, a song that sounded as old and enduring as music itself from the very day it was waxed. This writer was astonished to learn that it was written by Rebennack in 1973, as I had always assumed it emanated from Cole Porter or some such. The relationship with Walden, which had been going so well, came to a screeching halt when Rebennack returned home road-weary to find his house bereft of furniture, furniture that had somehow found its way across town to Walden’s recording studio. It was this move that finally put an end to Rebennack’s reliance on anyone else to handle his business affairs. Since then he has managed himself. Later in 1973, a collaboration with white bluesman John Hammond Jr. and Mike Bloomfield brought forth the “Triumvirate” album. Meanwhile, Rebennack embarked on a tour of shows benefiting the Black Panthers, which, he recalled, “had the immediate effect of bringing serious federal heat down on our asses! I discovered that we’d jumped into a whole new level of criminality. We weren’t garden-variety dope fiends any more; now we’d become political activists, the most fouty-knuckled lames of them all”. The year ended with Rebennack attempting to aid a drink- and coke-addled John Lennon make the album “Rock ‘n’Roll” with Rebennack’s old boss Phil Spector. As active and fruitful as 1973 seemed (in addition to the above there were sessions with Harry Nilsson and Ringo Starr), Rebennack was still broke and very bitter. He seriously pondered retirement, and had developed a reputation as a pain in the ass. The rest of the early seventies passed by in a blur of drug abuse and fallen sidemen. James Booker, the classically trained, extremely eccentric genius of the New Orleans keys, came and went from Rebennack’s band several times, before dying of a cocaine overdose in 1983. Ray Draper was whacked by New Jersey loan-sharks. Percussionist Albert ”Didimus” Washington was killed by a Cabbage-juice diet designed to heal his ulcers. As the seventies wore on, though, things very slowly began to turn around for Rebennack. A collaboration with legendary New York songwriter Doc Pomus (“Save The Last Dance For Me”, “Lonely Avenue”, “Suspicion”), produced the song “There Must Be A Better World Somewhere”, which B.B. King later picked up and won a Grammy. Tommy LiPuma persuaded Rebennack and Pomus to sign with his A&M-affiliated Horizon label. “City Lights”, the label’s second release, quickly followed. The album is something of a semi-autobiographical rock opera, co-written by Rebennack, Pomus, and Henry Glover (“ I Love You, Yes I Do”; “Drown in My Own Tears”) concerning the exploits of some ex-pat New Orleanians in the Big Apple. “Tango Palace”, another Mac-Pomus offering, came hard on the heels of “City Lights”, but not soon enough. The label foundered almost immediately after “Tango’s” release. Rebennack recalls the interlude with Horizon, during which he also gigged with 50’s R& B legends Hank Crawford and Fathead Newman, as being rewarding musically, if not commercially. In 1980, Rebennack began an association with Jack Heyrman’s Clean Cuts label. Heyrman persuaded Rebennack to confront a personal bugaboo and record two albums of solo piano and vocals. Rebennack had always had nightmarish visions of this being his end, that “I’d end up a solo-piano lounge act, staring at Holiday Inns or bowling alleys for the rest of my natural life”. Nevertheless, two Clean Cuts releases, “Dr. John Plays Mac Rebennack” and “The Brightest Smile In Town”, ensued. On them, Rebennack erased the last vestiges of the Gris Gris act and tackled some more sophisticated and older forms of music. He wanted to appeal to “a spiritual awareness, not just that low-down meat level”, but hastened to add that, “The hardest thing to do is let the spirituality flow and turn the meat on. Doing that is creating art, radiating the 88’s”. Rebennack expanded on this with 1989’s “In A Sentimental Mood”, a collection of classics this time presented in a combo format. A duet with Rickie Lee Jones on Gus Kahn and Walter Donaldson’s ”Makin’ Whoopee” took home the Grammy for Best Jazz Vocal Duet, and the album was one of the top-selling jazz albums of the year. Two more albums in a jazzy vein, “Bluesiana Triangle”, cut with Fathead Newman and the great Art Blakey; and “Bluesiana II”, cut again with Newman and others followed in the next two years. In 1989, Rebennack ended his 34-year relationship with heroin, and three years later released “Goin’ Back to New Orleans”, one of his most ambitious projects to date. Like “Gumbo”, “Goin’ Back” is solely a New Orleans affair, but it takes a much broader approach. Songs dating as far back as 1850 were recorded, with each of the ensuing cuts representing a stylistic breakthrough that has occurred since then. There’s a Mardi Gras Indian tune, homages to Jelly Roll Morton, Buddy Bolden, Louis Jordan, Professor Longhair, James Booker, and Fats Domino. The Neville Brothers, Wardell Quezergue, Al Hirt, and Pete Fountain, among a great many others turned out in support of the project. Any one volume CD that endeavors to cover 150 years of music from America’s most tuneful of cities is bound to fail, through as Rebennack says, “ the only thing that can beat a failure is a try”. Ultimately, the album ranks in the top 5% of all New Orleans releases, a too-brief primer lovingly and excitingly presented by the best musicians the city had to offer at that time. By turns wistful, violent, joyous and tragic, it never loses the twin hallmarks of the city that birthed it - a sense of humour at the absurdities of life (and death) and some of the world’s most pulsating rhythms. In 1994, Rebennack wrote with co-author Jack Rummel the excellent autobiography, “Under A Hoodoo Moon”. From it most of these notes were cribbed, and though this has proven to be by far my most verbose liner-note project, not one tenth of the story is yet told . Far from being a typical rock & roll, ghost-written autobiography, it is a hilarious, tragic, brutally honest, and inspirational tale of one erudite and talented man’s struggle to make some good music in a country in which this has become increasingly difficult. The chapter in which his reminiscences of Professor Longhair are recounted in side-splitting detail is alone worth the price of the book. The rest of the mid-nineties saw Rebennack’s voice become seemingly ubiquitous on American television, singing the praises of Wendy’s Hamburgers, among many another strange fruit from his American orchard. He has released several anthologies and two albums of new material - “Television” on GRP in 1994 and “Afterglow” on Blue Thumb in 1995. Any questions regarding this bizarre genius’ contemporary relevance were abolished in 1991 and 1993 when P.M. Dawn and Beck, respectively sampled his “I Walk On Gilded Splinters” for their own recordings, with utilising the Doctor’s tune in his breakthrough anthem, “Loser”. In 1997 he recorded a smoking duet with B.B. King on his collaboration with Doc Pomus, “There Must Be A Better World Somewhere”. He continues to tour and record, and still there is no bowling alley or Holiday Inn big enough to hold the audiences that pay to see him. Like the city he came from, Mac Rebennack is a survivor. So is the music that they share. That indefinable blend of French, African, Caribbean, Spanish, and American ingredients, that gumbo of a city and a sound, the certain je ne sais pocky way hollers out Crescent City, has no living acolyte truer or more faithful than Rebennack. Long may he ramble! ~John Nova Lomax, November 1998

[child-of-sunshine]

Just gotta rant for a minute so this is going under a cut

I can’t stand the way tumblr in general talks about “rich people” (which they can’t define to save their fucking lives) and particularly when they mention “millionaires” as though it actually means something significant in terms of wealth. 

First, no one seems to understand that by today’s inflated standards, a million dollars really isn’t that much. A quick google search will tell me that the average “middle-income” parent in America will spend over 250k to raise a child from birth to 18 years old. If a couple has 4 kids, they’re already spending over a million dollars on those kids. Yes, that’s over 18 years, but it’s still meaningful.

If a person makes 100k, which is supposedly the 85th percentile of income, it only takes them 10 years to make a million dollars. And yes, obviously they’re spending money too, and it’s not like their savings or their net worth are going to be a million in that time, but people don’t even seem to comprehend that their earnings over that time would literally be a million. Someone earning the average American income, let’s say 50k because I get conflicting information from various sources, would only take 20 years to earn a million dollars.

And calling “millionaires” (putting that in quotes because people (a) do NOT understand the difference between net worth and actual liquid assets or even income) rich, particularly in the context of the “eat the rich” rhetoric, is ridiculous. I know this site has a serious problem with black-and-white thinking, but for fuck’s sake.

Let’s take a look at my parents.

My dad grew up in a relatively low-income household. His mother’s grandparents came straight from Italy with a few dollars in their pockets and nothing else. Her family struggled to get food on the table at times. She worked very hard as a seamstress and married a man who had a good job at Ford back when that meant actual benefits including into retirement, and so they managed to raise two boys without having to worry too much about being able to afford food or housing. They saved like crazy and spent the minimum that they possibly could on themselves, so that when they reached retirement, they had a pretty decent amount of savings for the rest of their lives and could finally enjoy some luxury vacations and get a small but nice house in Florida.

My mom grew up in a truly low-income household. She was the youngest of five siblings living in a tiny, shitty town in Nowhere, Michigan, with two parents who smoked constantly, in a house that sat next to some kind of horrifying mystery waste pond (she and both of her sisters had cancer, my mom at just 36, and one of her brothers died from some kind of unknown neurological deterioration). Her father got TB and spent time in a sanitarium, after which he became a withdrawn alcoholic and then died relatively young. Her mother became depressed, stopped working, and died of cancer. My mom lost both of her parents in her early 20s, before she even met my father.

Both of my parents were gifted with the great privileges of great brains and being white. Even in their crappy hick town in the middle of nowhere, my mom managed to be in the top of her class (of 56 whole people) in high school and earned a scholarship to a state university, literally the only way she could have afforded to attend. My dad worked to pay for his college as far as I know (because back then you could actually do that). They both got bachelor’s degrees. My dad became an engineer, a good career, and quickly found a job with a relatively new, small local company. He worked extremely hard, long hours for years and moved up to being a manager, and the company has grown a lot over the 25+ years he’s now worked there, with the result that he now makes a low six-figure salary. My mom took a computer programming course after realizing her journalism degree wouldn’t get her much paid work, and has worked as a programmer for 25+ years now, switching jobs sometimes, usually making somewhere in the 60-70k range in the last decade or so.

My mother got pregnant with my sister around the time she and my dad got engaged. She was working a crappy programming job and he’d barely started as an engineer, making nowhere near six figures. They lived in a trailer park, in a trailer with a hole in the floor and steps that were a safety hazard. She’d spent some time living with her sister, who’s 13 years older than her and never had children (thus had a house and some savings). My dad’s mother, the seamstress, made my mom’s wedding dress for free as long as my mom bought the material for it, which was just about all they could afford. They had a nice, small wedding when my sister was about 2 (she was afraid of my mom’s dress lmao) and one of my cousins took the pictures.

Four years after my sister was born, my parents had saved up enough to put a down payment on our house, a moderate-sized family home in a suburban neighborhood that was just being built. The house was a little over 200k. She got pregnant with me and the house was finished just after I was born.

My mom got cancer when I was 2 years old. They haven’t talked to me much about it. Her sister spent a lot of money to buy her a really nice wig made of animal hair (which, unfortunately, she could rarely wear because it made her very itchy). She went through surgery, chemo, and radiation. She spent months sick as hell and miserable, while trying to raise two young daughters. Thankfully, they’d saved enough to be able to handle the medical bills, particularly with my dad’s good job that had good benefits and, by then, was paying him a pretty decent salary. My mom recovered, thankfully (over 20 years in remission now!).

In 2008, when the recession hit, my mom lost her job quickly. She tried finding new ones but couldn’t. No one was hiring programmers, they were getting rid of them. Her depression got a lot worse. I was in high school and depressed myself (in large part because of the situation at home, though my parents don’t know it, that became suicidal depression a while afterward), and they had to start paying for therapy for me. My sister was in college and had to try to pay for it herself because my parents’ college fund for her hadn’t gone as far as they’d hoped. My dad’s company supplies machines to auto manufacturers. They were worried. They laid off some people, thankfully not my dad, and others had to take pay cuts. My parents started sitting down and seriously going over finances. My mom and I had to completely quit figure skating, my only physical stress outlet (like I said, that contributed a LOT to the severe depression). We had to cut down the grocery bills and think about not buying gifts for family members’ birthdays and such. My grandparents, happily retired by then with good savings, paid off the rest of our mortgage and told my dad to pay them back without interest whenever he could, so that no matter what happened with the jobs, we at least wouldn’t have to worry about losing our house. I listened to my parents scream at each other over money and I cried myself to sleep a lot of nights.

Guess what? My dad is a millionaire. Definitely not in liquid assets, but in net worth he probably just barely hits 1 million. He now makes a low six-figure salary and when the economy is doing okay, he invests some of it in the stock market, mostly in low-risk stocks that are guaranteed to have payouts (I don’t know a lot about this, so that’s all I’ll say). He inherited/learned his dad’s extreme money-saving ways and saves as much as possible. He’s an engineer and very handy, so whenever possible he does home and car repairs himself to save a lot of money. I managed to get a scholarship that covered almost all of my undergrad tuition, I lived at home for half of undergrad and all of med school to save money, I worked in retail in undergrad and as an EMT in med school to pay for some of my own stuff, and they didn’t pay for any of my med school tuition, so that’s it for their educational expenses for me. My mom’s had a good, stable job for the last few years that pays in the low 80k range, I think. We live in a house worth ~250k that we now fully own thanks to my grandparents. 

A few years ago, my dad’s brother bought a crappy, tiny, nearly-condemned cabin in the woods up north for about 20k (seriously, it was shit). He and my dad put in a few hundred dollars and a TON of time and manual labor to fix it up, and now we pay half the bills on it and both of our families use it for vacations. We have a small (19ft) boat that my dad bought as a gift for my mom when she had cancer--he got it extremely cheap from a guy who’d bought it, barely used it, and just wanted rid of it. It’s a 1994 and full of problems now, but we’ve managed to keep it going (barely, at times) and my dad has taken really good care of it over the years. A friend of my dad’s got him into snowmobiling about a decade ago and once his brother bought the cabin and they fixed it up, my dad got a cheap, crappy used snowmobile, which he used for a few years before reselling it and upgrading to an actually nice, new one, because yeah, he could afford it. He’s upgraded a couple times, good for him. When I actually have the time off, I go up with him in the winter and ride one of his old ones that he kept and fixed after it had an engine problem. It doesn’t cost much to renew the trail permits each year and I borrow my uncle’s gear for riding, so other than the initial cost of the sleds, it really costs us nothing to go riding (gas is extremely negligible in snowmobiles, they can go 120+ miles on a single 8 gallon tank, and we store them ourselves at the cabin so we don’t pay for that). We store the boat in our garage at home (like I said, it’s small) so other than the permit and gas for that when we take it out, again, really no continuous expense.

My parents pay all of their taxes without trying to do any bullshit work-arounds. They don’t have a lawyer or a tax accountant or a financial advisor, my dad does it all himself. He keeps track of all of our finances himself. We don’t pay a landscaping service or a cleaning service or any of that crap, we do it all ourselves like any other middle-class family. My mom donates regularly to charities for cancer, animal rescues, and injured veterans. 

But to tumblr, incapable of seeing nuance, we’re “one-percenters (absolutely nowhere near true) who own a house and have a ‘vacation home’ and a boat and recreational vehicles” so we’re pretty much just as bad as Bezos, because anyone who isn’t actively struggling to put food on the table or in horrible medical debt because of our disaster of a system is apparently “rich” and there’s no such thing as shades of gray.