vacant-lot

Photographer Ann Sophie Lindström spent several months documenting  a group of horsemen in North Philadelphia who have been countering crime through their love for horses.  For more riveting photos of the equestrians of North Philly, here’s this week’s Spotlight essay from Emily Anne Epstein.

A stallion named Dusty rears up as Jamil Prattis, 25, leads him to the lot across from the Fletcher Street Stables, October 19, 2013. Jamil became involved with the horses when he was 12 years old, after he saw a group of urban cowboys riding through the streets of North Philadelphia. (Ann Sophie Lindström)

Jamil Prattis sits in front of his house on French Street, May 23, 2014. (Ann Sophie Lindström)

Stephfon Darnell Tolbert, 31, teases a pony named Harlem, making him rear up, October 2, 2013. Harlem is known for being aggressive when someone gets too close. (Ann Sophie Lindström

A horse is tied up in front of a vacant lot on Fletcher Street while horsemen clean the stalls, October 6, 2016. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Stable manager Edward E. Ward cuddles a horse named Maverick, September 29, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Tymeir Sanders, 17, stops by a friend’s house on West Harold Street while out on a ride with Rosie, June 1, 2014. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Stephfon Darnell Tolbert, 24, prepares feed for the horses, October 16, 2016. The horsemen have tack rooms where they keep supplies, feed, and hay. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Donnell Glenn takes Cash out for an evening walk, October 9, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Stevie Spann, 50, checks on the horses before closing the stable for the evening, August 22, 2014.  (Ann Sophie Lindström)

Jamil Prattis, Stevie Spann, and Nate Benson sit inside a horse trailer to escape the sun and smoke, May 25, 2014. (Ann Sophie Lindström)

There is no indoor arena at the Fletcher Stable, so the horsemen like use the vacant lot across the street to train their animals, October 6, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Romere Burch,13, rides bareback on a stallion named Ace N da Whole on Glennwood Avenue, October 3, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

A Better Word

They say the Fair Folk give journalism majors a lot of grief.

Truths exposed in writing, forms cemented in photographs, stories stripped of flowery prose in favor of concise words. The Fair Folk generally looked down on journalism itself with disdain.

Which made one wonder who would choose to pursue this particular academic career at Elsewhere University.

Some reporters argue learning among the harshest critics on Earth would leave them more than prepared for life beyond the University. Some photographers believe this is the only place on earth to capture something truly extraordinary. Some designers heard even the programs here behave differently, and the words and photos laid out on a screen became something more on paper. Some simply hadn’t known any better.

Bernadette hadn’t known any better.

Elsewhere was affordable, the journalism program seemed decent enough. She liked writing, but did not enjoy chasing victims of the Fair Folk people down for interviews. She liked photography, but knew her writing skills were stronger. So she fell in an unlikely place, a copy editor for the student newspaper. Well, one of. There were many papers, and she’d nearly joined the most prominent one. But the students who worked for it all shared the same bright green eyes, and the rest of the University seemed to avoid that paper like the plague.

Still, she needed experience to graduate in this field, right? Maybe they got a group discount on colored contacts, who knows. People in college are weird like that.

An upperclassman had saved her from venturing too close to THAT paper. He realized she had no salt, no iron, no idea what she had enrolled into. But, like finding her niche, she adapted. Survived her first year without tragedy. (The same could not be said for Sherry from across the hall. One of the Fair Folk had complimented her eyes, and asked if she could have them. Sherry, who hadn’t known any better, jokingly said sure. It’s been months since anyone’s seen Sherry.)

For the most part, the Fair Folk did not venture close to the newsroom. The room itself had been smartly moved the moment time began to behave differently. It was now just a cramped, previously vacant classroom, but with lots of windows. Access to the outside world seemed to weaken the chance of a space being manipulated by time. 

Or maybe that was a comforting lie.

It was a lazy Saturday, salt lines had been neglected and Bernadette was alone when one of the Fair Folk waltzed inside. Silver nitrate burns on her hands betrayed him immediately. His hair was was a dark, voracious black that seemed to leach color from the world around it. His razor-sharp smile held too many teeth. His skin seemed almost translucent.

      “What are you working on?”

A voice that seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere. Bernadette hadn’t given him more than a cursory glance before returning to the story on the screen. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it.

      “Editing a story.”

      “Chopping up pretty words in favor of boring ones?”

She smirked, adding punctuation to a sentence.

“I like to think of it as finding the best words. No sense in having a bunch of empty, meandering words when you can sum them up with one. For instance, I hate the word ‘very.’ It tells me there’s a better word, but the author hasn’t thought of it.”

The boy hummed at this, an unnerving sound, mulling it over.

      “So what if I told you I find this very boring?”

      “I’d say I’m sorry you find it dull.” 

His head tilted with mild interest. It then turned to sniff at her messenger bag, disgust showing at his inability to open it. She had always been particularly careful about her sigils and rowan. Bernadette hadn’t missed this display, tugging the bag out of arm’s reach before slipping a hand inside. Wordlessly, the boy was handed two sealed pads of butter. It was always good to have butter or cream on hand, in case you were taken. Some Fae found stealing humans more fun than actually keeping them and, in such a case, freedom could be easily bought. 

The boy grinned, ripping off the seals and lapping it up like a ravenous dog, teeth razor sharp and dripping. All the while, Bernadette kept editing the story. When every last molecule of butter was gone, he tossed the packs over his shoulder, turning full attention back to her.

      “What if I said I’m very tired?”

      “Exhausted.”

      “Very hungry.”

      “Starving.”

      “Very happy.”

      “Overjoyed.”

      “Very pretty.”

      “Beautiful.”

The boy threw his head back and laughed, sounding like a chorus of the damned, far too many sharpened teeth glinting in the afternoon sun.

      “Perhaps this isn’t so dull. What’s your name?”

      “Timmy,” Bernadette answered without skipping a beat. His grin widened.

      “No, it’s not. I bet Timmy is that reporter you don’t like. You’d be very mean to give me his name.”

She grinned in return, not at all fazed he knew there was someone here she loathed. The Fair Folk always knew something about something.

       “I can be devious sometimes.”

He laughed even harder, the room seeming to shake with the thunderous sound.

      “What did Timmy do?”

She scowled.

      “He’s a narcissist and a douchebag. Timmy encouraged one of our first-year photographers to capture Genevieve on camera for his story, and we haven’t seen the photographer since.”

The boy whistled, every gap of razor teeth producing a different tone. Her days of playing clarinet had long since passed, but she could have sworn every tone was sharp.

      “Genevieve does not like cameras. But she loves names. Perhaps a trade…”


Four days later, Timmy vanished, and Bernadette opened her dorm room to find the photographer on her futon, paper white and shoveling ramen noodles like he hadn't​ eaten for week. Knowing how obscure time can be in Elsewhere, it definitely could have been a week. His hair now turns green on Tuesdays and bank holidays, but he’s otherwise no worse for wear. And his hands are always burned. Always.

Every once in a while, when the salt lines are neglected, the boy with many voices returns. He has new phrases for her to deconstruct every time.

x

anonymous asked:

it's like you blog all day what do you do for a living

i got bit by a burrowing owl when i wandered onto a vacant lot when i was a baby and im living off settlement checks

7 Moments In ‘The Wizard Of Oz’ That Still Make Us Howl And Clap And Buy Land And Go To Sleep

Almost 80 years later, this film classic still gets us hooting and slapping and purchasing and dozing!

1. When the color kicks in: No one who’s seen The Wizard Of Oz will forget their first time watching vibrant Technicolor bloom across the screen when Dorothy finds herself in Oz. Even watching today, it’s impossible not to start screaming and applauding and bidding on tracts of Alaskan hinterland and nodding off as she takes her first steps into that fantastic land.

2. When Dorothy oils the Tin Man: The chemistry between those two still pops off the celluloid, and watching their first scene together, we just can’t help but let loose awful window-rattling whoops as we frantically bat our palms together and pour our inheritance into acre after acre of worthless property and then promptly lie facedown and faint dead away. No matter how many times you watch it, it still has that effect!

3. When the trees start hurling apples: As soon as that first apple is hurled, we’re already hoarse from the involuntary animal cries tearing out of our throats. The callouses on our palms have been torn back open from blow after blow after blow, and we’re tearing splinters out of the floorboards with our knees as we clap and howl and writhe. We sound like an a cappella group freaking out on salvia. Not only that, but we’ve also bought up every foreclosed farm we can get our hands on and capped it off by plunging deep into a dreamless void we’ll have to claw our way back out of if we ever want to escape.

4. When the flying monkeys show up: If you ever see us snoozing on the floor of the bank, clutching dozens of land titles to our chests in throbbing pink palms or hear our guttural roars wafting out of long-vacant lots, chances are we just caught a few frames of flying monkeys. That’s really all it takes.

5. When the real wizard is revealed: The moment when Dorothy & co. reveal the man behind the curtain is a stone-cold classic, and just like it must have for audiences in 1939, it never fails to start us screeching and windmilling our arms and bowing and mortgaging our homes and burying documents and discovering inner stillness and getting shot by rifles and overheating and sinking. If anything, watching it with modern eyes just makes us buy land and sprint and pulsate and crawl under our bed and pass water and declare bankruptcy all the more! Any Oz fan knows the feeling well!

6. Whenever Toto’s on screen: No one put this better than the late, great Roger Ebert in his Wizard Of Oz retrospective: “Whenever Toto comes trotting on by, I find myself having fallen fully asleep, and yet I’m shrieking and shrieking so hard that my head freely whips around on my limp body. It’s not long until my hands begin pouring every cent I’ve got into deeds for uncultivated French hills, stopping only long enough to slam into each other over and over and over, the dry thwack of flesh on flesh commingling with my increasingly ragged yelps and yawps, and god help me, but I’m not stopping till Toto’s long gone!”

7. When Dorothy sees her family again: Gets us loud, thrashing, prosperous, and comatose Every. Damn. Time.

How much land do you really need to be self sufficient?

With a world food crisis, drought and civil unrest over escalating food prices, around the world, we all have concerns about food security and the ability to feed our own families.  An info-graphic is circulating the internet that tells us that we need a full 2 acres to be self sufficient in food on a omnivore diet, implying less land if one is vegan.  The problem with a graphic like this is that it discourages experimentation, and assumes a one-size-fits all family eating style.  It uses yield estimates taken from mono-cultural commercial agriculture and imposes them on the homestead.  This discourages people who want to attempt to be self sufficient and live a more sustainable life.  2 acres is a substantial investment in a highly productive agricultural belt or near an urban area. And this info-graphic assumes highly productive land — expensive land.

So is 2 acres a reasonable estimate?  That depends where you live and what you mean by “self-sufficiency”.  When Canada was being divided up in homesteading grids — it was assumed that on the Prairies an average family would need a section of land (over 1,000 acres) to be self-sufficient.  In those days, self-sufficient meant to survive to the next year, without grocery stores to fall back on.  In Ontario and B.C. the amount of land necessary to feed and cloth a family was considered a ¼ section — 160 acres.  That area provided water, food, energy, and a livelihood.  Along the St. Laurence and in the Maritimes the amount of land needed was less — due to the proximity of fishing and water.  The closer one is to fresh water, whether a stream or through rainfall, the less land that is necessary to sustain  a family.

Those in the North or at higher elevations need more land to be self-sufficient.  Its hard to grow food — other than livestock and hay — in a growing season that’s shortened by intermittent summer frost.  But it can be done.  Land in these areas is cheaper, too.  You will need 5 to 15 acres to be productive in a Northern area and you will have more land dedicated to raising livestock and hay and less land dedicated to vegetables and fruit.

How much land do you need?

So what’s a reasonable estimate for how much land you really need to sustain your family?

Skip the 2,000 square foot house.  Its unnecessary.  A smaller footprint that builds upward  is a better use of space, and is easier to heat and clean.  Solar panels?  Possibly if you are far enough south and have a good exposure.   Wind? Micro-hydro?  Methane?  Wood?  All are possibilities to explore for energy efficiency.  Each property has to be assessed individually.  There is no one-size-fits-all solution — except the grid.  Cut the house footprint in half.

Livestock?  Skip the pigs — they produce only meat and take up valuable space.  Skip the corn unless you live in the South, where your summer has the heat value to ripen corn easily.  The livestock doesn’t need it and its low on food value — 2 goats and 5 chickens can live on garden surplus, grass and weeds.  5 chickens will feed a family 2 dozen eggs a week in the peak laying season.  They don’t need their own dedicated space.  Put them in a movable chicken tractor and let them till the garden, eating bugs and weeds.  Move them every morning during the growing season and it will improve your soil quality, too.

Goats can be housed in a shed near the house, a lean to onto the house or even the back of the garage.  They only need a small bedding area and can be taken for walks in the hedgerows of your neighbourhood to feed on browse.  They can be given a loafing area or be tethered in different spots around the yard to help keep down weeds.  Protect them from stray dogs and predators and they will give you 8 to 10 years of the highest quality raw milk for drinking, cheese, yogourt and ice-cream.  They can be fed with garden waste.  Or share your field peas and produce with them, in exchange for their milk.  Their manure will increase the fertility of the garden space.  2 full size dairy goats will give your family a gallon of milk a day and 3 kids for 90 lbs. of meat every fall. Live in an urban area? Invest in Nigerian Dwarf goats and half the production rates, as well as the food inputs.

Instead of corn in cooler regions, grow potatoes.  They offer more calories and can be grown in more climates and take up less space.  You can follow a crop of potatoes with kale for a longer harvest season, even in a colder climate.

Don’t forget the orchard

Fruit and nut trees are a must. Nut trees take a while to mature but the increase in protein is beneficial to you, and your livestock — plant them if you have the space.  Dwarf fruit trees will grow on a 6 foot centre and can be trellised along a fence to increase yields per space. If space is at a premium, do consider trellising them — planting 6 feet apart in a one foot wide row.  One dwarf tree will yield 75 lbs. of fruit, once it is mature.  10 trees trellised along a fence with a Southern exposure, blossom sooner in spring and have an extended growing season, and will give you enough fruit for a family for jamming, canning and preserving.

Berries and small fruits take up little space and can offer high vitamins and antioxidants to your diet.  If wild roses and wild strawberries grow in your area than other berries will as well.

Sunflowers are an annual crop that provide an increase in protein for your diet, and can grow on the borders of the garden, taking up very little space.

Raised beds for vegetables

Vegetables, grown in raised beds or containers, give high yields and can be rotated for 3 season gardening — greens from spinach to lettuce to kale can rotate through the growing season to keep your plate full for daily salads and vegetables.  We grow all the greens we need in about 20 square feet this way.  Other vegetables, like cabbage, beans, carrots and beets, need a full growing season but can be inter-cropped with flowers and herbs to feed bees, and provide medicinal plants for the family first aid kit.  With raised bed gardening you could cut down the vegetable area square footage by ½ to 2/3rds   Add a greenhouse and train vines to grow up instead of out and you can increase the growing season and the yields in the available space.

Community is essential

This chart fails to take into account the sharing that inevitably happens between gardeners — zucchinis, squash, lettuces and other prolific growers provide a bountiful harvest that many families can share, at the peak of the growing season.

Rabbits?  Chickens? Ducks?

Put in some rabbit hutches – Each rabbit needs 2 feet by 3 ft. space.  You can give them a grass run and build rabbit condos that offer them a wonderful, natural lifestyle.   3 female french angora rabbits and 1 male will provide your family with a meal of rabbit meat once a week and enough angora to keep your family in mittens and hats for the winter.  They will eat your garden surplus, and grass hay.  In Europe, during WWII, families with back yard rabbits would make hay by harvesting the grass from vacant lots and roadsides all summer.  And they make affectionate pets, too.  Are we eating our pets? No, as a farmer you make pets out of the breeding animals and give the best possible life and respect to the young that end up on your plate.

You don’t need meat every day, but you do need high quality protein every day and this kind of gardening will give you that.

Consider planting field peas for increased protein.  Field peas increase the fertility of the soil and the crop is ready to harvest in August when the ground can be cleared and a second crop can be planted of either peas or a winter vegetables.  The straw from peas is relished by goats and rabbits.

Aquaponics

Consider the addition of an aquaponics greenhouse in the vegetable growing area.  This will yield fish fertilizer, vegetables, and fish for a well rounded diet for you and your garden — along with year round vegetables.  Add a methane digester and you can supply some of your own energy needs as well.  If you can grow meat and vegetables year round, you reduce your dependence on a freezer, which lowers your electrical needs.

My estimate is that in a highly productive area with adequate rainfall, the average family could raise all their food needs on 1 acre of land.  Many did just this during WWII with just a large city lot, by walking their goats and moving their chickens around the vegetable garden.  The key to making this work is to eat what you can grow in your climate — using heritage seeds that are adapted to your growing conditions. With more land — 5 acres — you can move from subsistence farming to commercial agriculture and begin to make some money from your productivity.

If you have more land, grow more food and expand your self sufficiency. But if you only have a balcony in a city apartment, grow where you are planted.  And start in a small way to be more sufficient now.  On the Joybilee Farm Facebook Page, I post periodic links to urban agricultural projects to inspire your urban efforts for self sufficiency.

One of my favorite resources for urban farm is the Urban Farm Guys. Their videos are practical step-by-step guidelines to help you harvest more food from a small amount of land. –joybileefarm.com

Collecting Herbs for Magical Workings


Plants and herbs are a common ingredient in many forms of magic. Whether you are making incense, stuffing a sachet, or brewing a folk remedy, if you practice long enough, you’re eventually going to have a use for them. When that’s the case, you’ll want to use the best possible ingredient.

While store bought herbs will do in a pinch, I prefer to harvest my own. This way: you can be confident of freshness, you can establish a relationship with the donor plant, and you can harvest with intent, contributing to the power of the destined spell. Your spell work begins with the gathering of components, so treat the activity with the focus it deserves.

Your Toolkit

The first thing you will need is a cutting tool. Some traditions recommend the use of a sickle-shaped tool with a white handle, called the Boline. Here’s an example of what one looks like:

Personally, I don’t recommend the use of a Boline. Here’s why:

  • They tend to tear the plant instead of cutting it. The jagged edges this leaves behind are more prone to infection, and susceptible to insect attack.
  • They’re conspicuous, and the layman may mistake it for a weapon. Enjoy explaining to a cop that it is a “special knife for witchcraft”.
  • They require considerable care to keep sharp

If your beliefs don’t specifically demand the Boline, I instead recommend a pair of garden pruning shears with white handles. They are affordable, inconspicuous, and designed to do as little damage as possible to the plant.

Once you’ve chosen your knife, you should consecrate it. It should never be used for any purpose other than the harvesting of plants. When it isn’t in use, store it near your altar.

Next, you’ll need something to carry your herbs in. I use a large linen hip bag with an over the shoulder strap. You’ll also need some twine or string to divide the herbs you’ve collected, and a “harvest journal” so you can take note of the location of plants you find.

Finally, you need an offering to thank them for their gift. In magic, there is nothing without sacrifice. In the store, you pay with money. In nature, you can pay with fertilizer. I generally carry around a re-purposed water or soda bottle filled with fertilizer mix.

Finding Your Herbs

Some of us are lucky to live close to forests or natural fields on public land, but for many it can be a challenge to source wild herbs.

If you live in a city, find out if there are any nature trails or reserves in your area, then check what their policies are. You can also search for vacant lots, or neighbors with a green thumb. Make sure to ask before helping yourself! Sometimes you can find areas beneath power lines where herbs and flowers are allowed to grow freely. Taking plants from those areas is usually allowed.

You should try to avoid harvesting near a road (where the plants will have taken in a lot of pollution), from very small plants, or plants that appear to be sick. You don’t want to eat a sick plant, and you don’t want to kill a plant by taking from it. A good rule of thumb is to never take more than 25% of the plant’s total growth.

Asking Permission

Before you cut the plant, you should take some time to connect with it. Examine it to see if it is healthy. Take your time identifying it. Feel the plant’s energy and let it get to know you. Once you’ve determined that the plant is a good candidate, you should ask its permission to take it.

This process is intuitive. Some believe you should ask aloud, others that you can ask silently, communicating with the plant by focusing your intent. Let the plant know what you want to use it for, and invite it to participate with you. Then, wait a few minutes and listen for a response.

You should get an impression on whether or not it is okay. This could come in the form of a sensation, such as an inviting warmth, or a chill that turns you away. It could just be a sense of satisfaction. Trust yourself and go with what you sense is right. If you feel unsure or anxious, find another plant.

Harvesting

Using your sharp implement, make a clean, angular cut near a joint. This will make it easier for the plant to heal and regrow. You will want to choose a portion of the plant that is not the oldest (dark and woody), and not the youngest (the lightest with the most budding leaves). A good middle-aged branch is best. Be sure to never take more than 25% of the total plant growth.

While you are harvesting the plant, you should focus yourself on the intent of the spell you’re collecting it for. If you’re gathering chamomile for a healing tea, visualize yourself getting well. If you’re casting a money spell, see yourself getting that big cheque! If the goal is a love spell, see yourself with your ideal partner.

No specific goal? If you’re harvesting for general purposes or to replenish your stock, you can focus on the properties of the plant, and enforce your intention that it should lend strength to your work.

Tie the plants that you have collected into a bundle so that they wont get lost in your other herbs when you put them in your carrying bag.

Giving Thanks

Having taken from the plant, you should give thanks for the gift. Tell it that you’re grateful, and assure it that it wont be misused. Then, provide payment!

Pour the fertilizer you brought at the roots of the plant. If you stumbled upon the plant accidentally and don’t have your fertilizer with you, make some other form of offering. Traditionally, a small coin at the base of the plant can show your willingness to give. Don’t litter! The scrap of paper or cloth in your pocket is probably not a suitable offering.

Before you go, spend a moment tending to the plant. Clear debris from around it, untangle it from choking weeds and pluck off any dead matter. Practice respect by leaving it in better condition than it was when you found it!

Storing and Preparing for Use

To use the herbs fresh, simply wash them in cool water and pat them dry. They can be kept lively for a few days by putting them in a vase of water and keeping them in a cool area (if your fridge isn’t too cold, that’ll do nicely).

If you wont be using them within a few days, or want to put them in a sachet, tea or incense, you will probably need to dry them.

Tie a string around the base of a bunch of the washed, dried herbs and suspend them upside down in a warm place with good ventilation. To avoid collecting dust, I like to tie brown paper bags over them. Check them once a week, and take them down when they are dry and brittle, but before they turn to powder beneath your thumb. The length of time they’ll take to dry will vary widely based on your climate and the thickness of the plant.

When they’re dry, keep them in a labeled, airtight container for up to six months.

Use Them!

Record any observations you make while working with the herb along with it’s location in your harvest journal. If the plant is particularly fragrant or effective, write it down so you know to go back! If it doesn’t work well for you, make note of that, too.

And that is how you harvest herbs for magic! Happy Crafting!

-Smokie

youtube

The Growlers - Vacant Lot

2

Gif source:  Stiles

Imagine you’ve been dating Stiles in secret and it ends up getting revealed when you play hooky from a pack meeting and the pack ends up looking for you and finds you in a heated moment in the back of his Jeep.

——— Request for anon ———

It was one of those rare cold nights in Beacon Hills. The ones that only happened in the middle of the winter and made you actually have to wear one of the jackets you’d invested in. Stiles had worn that red hoodie when he’d come to pick you up for the pack meeting, but when you piled into the Jeep with him you both knew neither of you wanted to go to that tonight.

It wasn’t like Stiles to miss a meeting, but there you were looking just as great to him as he looked to you. Both of you decided that for once, you were going to play hooky and just not go.

You found a spot just as the sun went down, shading the both of you in more privacy than the vacant gravel lot beside the Beacon Hills Reserve did. Stiles was on you as soon as the Jeep was in park, the both of you fumbling for the back seat as you also fumbled with each other’s clothes. He was shirtless and you were pants-less by the time you heard a twig snap from outside, causing you to pull from his lips with a gasp.

“What was that?” you breathe, glancing towards the window only to find they’d fogged over thanks to the contrast of the cool air outside the car and the heat within it.

Stiles was just as stock-still as he hovered over you, still locked between your thighs as he strained to hear something else over the radio station neither of you’d been focused on before whispering with a glint of fear in his eyes, “This is how people die in horror movies.”

You slap his bare chest gently as you sarcastically scoff, “Thanks. Whose idea was it to park at the Reserve anyway? If we die via crazed serial killer, I’m blaming you!”

Smack!

“AH! GOD!” Stiles shouts as you both jump upon a hand slapping against the fogged window beside your head, causing an imprint in the dew while you both scream within the Jeep. The handle to the door was being pulled by something outside, and it’s not until you take a breath to scream again as you and Stiles scrambled for the keys that you heard a familiar voice calling from outside.

“Stiles! Stiles!”

Scott?” you gasp as Stiles reaches to press the button in order to roll down the window just enough to see who it was for sure, causing you both to groan as you realize just who had caught you.

“If only it was a serial killer instead,” Stiles groans sarcastically as he slumps against your chest for a second after recognizing those familiar faces behind the messy glass. Scott looks on in amusement beside Allison and Lydia while you scramble to fish your pants from the floor once Stiles leans off of you and throws his shirt back on, bumping his head on the roof of the Jeep in the process.

Isaac rolls his eyes, already turning on his heel to leave, “Clearly Stiles and (Y/N) are just fine.”

A newspaper print appealing for any information on Elizabeth Short a.k.a the Black Dahlia, who was tortured to death some time between 9pm on January 13 and 1am January 14 in 1947 Los Angeles.

Short had last been seen a week before, in the company of a red haired man. Her battered, horribly mutilated body was found dumped in a vacant lot, drained of blood, and cut in half at the waist. Cigarette burns, cuts, bruises, and lacerations by the dozen were noted during the autopsy. Short had been tortured repeatedly over the course of several days before being beaten to death with a blunt instrument.

Investigators failed to piece together Short’s final movements with accuracy. The victim followed a notoriously seedy lifestyle and had a active social life with its fair share of shady individuals. Its unknown if the killer knew Short or if he/she was a stranger. Her murder remains unsolved.

motel ‘97 - 02

➵ pairing: jungkook x reader  
➵ genre: mafia au, angst, fluff, smut.
➵ warning: violence, crude language, read at own risk.
➵ word count: 3K+
 

01, 02, 03, 04, 05,

       I never imagined in years time I would be in this situation. Being dragged down a dim motel hallway by some man I had met on not very good terms. His grip was sure to leave red marks behind on my skin. An all familiar case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or merely in my case, dicking around at the wrong time.


I had a fairly decent life. Not too hard. Quite fair to me. I had nice friends and a nice family. Growing up in the small area where city met rural was pretty nice. I lived in a decent sized apartment with my childhood friend Minji. She had been with me through thick and thin. Quite literally. Growing up as a child, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, carried with me throughout all these years. I never viewed it as a negative to be completely honest. It was just a burden, something annoying that I had to put up with. That was up until I was about 13. I had a very bad relapse. My weight deteriorated very quickly and I was hospitalized for around 7 months. My body was very fragile and immune system was weak. After that, relapses became more and more frequent. Becoming worse. She would spend nights with me in the hospital, making up for the sleepovers we used to enjoy together. She really meant the world to me. She went through so much just to make me happy during those times.

As we grew older, we never drifted apart surprisingly enough. Minji had many friends in high school while I had few, including her. It never really bothered me though. As we graduated and college became an option, we both decided to stick it out without it for a while. Pursuing our current hobbies. Minji worked to become a tattoo artist and open her own parlor. I worked to become a journalist. Both passionate about our own individual interests. But of course, bills had to be paid, money was needed for necessities, etc. Which is how we wound up in the motel we both worked at. It was about 30 minutes out from our apartment in a pretty rundown area next to vacant highways used for travel of goods. The only cars you would see would be semi-trucks and occasionally city cars. It paid decent and was easy. Although the messes some people would leave behind were definitely not within my paycheck. Disgusting.. But it was worth it in the end. Making enough to live in a nice place with my best friend wasn’t something everyone could afford or have. So I was thankful.


I continued to walk down the hallway with this unknown person, close to absolutely shitting myself. I could make out the outline of a gun tucked into his waistband and I wasn’t in position to take his threats lightly anyways. We reached the elevator and he reached his hand out, lightly pressing the button down and a short ‘beep’ emitted. The doors slid open and we walked in. Met with the same black tile floor and burgundy walls. The ride down was silent until I dared to speak as we neared the 1st floor.

“Can I ask where you’re taking me?” You questioned, feeling small and overpowered among him. Silence. He wouldn’t answer. Continuing to tap his foot against the floor, waiting for the doors to part. He was just as clueless as you were in a way. He had no idea you were just some innocent person. He assumed from the position you were in, you had to be working with someone in an opposing gang. A cheap sellout. Someone to throw under the bus. And boy oh boy was he wrong.

As they opened, you noticed the lobby was empty. “Fuck..” You thought. There goes any chance of help and/or escape. You continued to walk and walk until you were stopped in front of a sleek black car parked at the back of the motel. “Get in.” He ushered as he opened the door and pushed you towards the seat. “Wow what a gentleman you are.” You spat, sarcasm laced in your voice. He walked around the car, yanked open the driver’s door and sat. You sat, staring straight ahead, fingers fumbling with the end of your skirt. “Can’t believe your group would just throw you to the dirt like that Y/N ah..” He pulled the gun from his waistband and began to wipe it off with a white cloth he pulled from his ashtray. “Quite sad isn’t it. Just thrown under the bus like that.” You stilled, adrenaline kicking in, screaming, telling you to flee. “I’m a very bad man Y/N. You should know that better than anyone.” He smirked, placing the barrel of the gun against your inner thigh. You began to shake, grip tightening on the fabric of your skirt. “Please..” You pathetically whimpered. “Please what Y/N? You’re a big girl. Use your words.” He smiled, leaning in dangerously close to your face. “Please don’t kill me.” You whispered, closing your eyes. A small tear rolling down your cheek. Was this really how I’m gonna go out?  At the hands of some psychopath? You thought. You always imagined it would be some health issue from all the relapses you had in the past.

He cocked his head to the side, surprised by your choice of words. “Don’t worry beauty, I won’t unless you give me a reason. You could be of some use to us. This, this right here-” He waved the gun around, frightening you even more. “This is all for show. Unless of course you give me a reason to make it worth its capabilities.” He yanked the keys out of his pocket and started up the car. “I can promise that I won’t kill you for now, maybe hurt you a bit, but the others?” He paused. “I can’t promise they won’t hurt or kill you.” He said seriously. He sure knows how to comfort someone… Fuck. What do I do now.


You had been driving in silence for awhile, the only source of sound being the radio. The volume was low but you could still make out the songs being played. You kept your eyes on the horizon, the orange lights overhead distracting you every now and then. You snapped out of your train of thought when he pulled into a small gas station. There were only 2 other cars in the parking lot. The lights overhead, flickering and dim. “Stay here. I’m serious. Remember.” He patted the gun in his waistband. You simply nodded and watched as he strutted into the small market. Once the door swung shut, you frantically looked around for anyone or anything you could use to your advantage. Glaring at the other cars, trying to see if anyone occupied them. Just to your luck, two men, around the same age as your captor you assumed, stepped out of the car opposite the parking lot. They eyed the car suspiciously. One of them leaned over and spoke to the other. He then nodded and moved closer for further inspection. You viewed this as an opportunity for help and took it.


Unknown POV

“You sure that’s one of those brat’s cars?” He spoke, dragging the cigarette from his lips. “Yeah. Look at the license plate.” The other nodded his head in the direction. “It’s one of Cypher’s.” He moved closer for inspection and noticed a figure in the passenger seat. “Someone’s in the car. It looks like a girl. Do they have any girls working under their name?” He asked. “Nah, probably just one of their whores.” The other spoke, startled at the sound of the car door being opened.

You stepped out, tightly clutching your bag, looking between the men and the door. One of them had blonde hair, was fairly short, but still taller than you. The other had black hair and a sharp nose. “I need your help please. I’ve been taken by someone and I don’t know them or what they want from me.” You rambled on, panicking that he would emerge from the doors any second now. “Don’t ya have a phone on you, kid?” The blonde one snickered, throwing their cigarette on the ground, stomping it out. “N-no. He took it. Please just help me! I don’t know-” “Y/N.” A voice spoke from behind you. Shit. “What did I tell you?” He snarled, advancing towards me. The black haired one stepped forward. “No way! Look who it is!” He slapped the arm of his friend. “Jungkook Ah! It’s been such a long time wouldn’t you say?” The one with blonde hair spoke. So that’s his name. “Fuck off Yoongi. Y/N get in the goddamn car now.” Jungkook violently cursed. You looked between the two and stood still. I mean what the hell was I supposed to do in this situation?? “I don’t think she wants to Jungkook… Ah.. Poor thing was just telling us how you kidnapped her..?” He licked his lower lip, smiling tauntingly. Jungkook hissed and grabbed my hand, yanking me towards him. Yoongi also reaching for me and grabbing my bag. With ease, it fell off my shoulder and landed at his feet as Jungkook continued to shove me in the car. “Wait! I need my bag! It has my-” I was abruptly cut off by the door slamming in my face. I need my insulin. My blood sugar levels are way below than what they should be. I could hear the 3 bickering outside the door when a loud bang made me jump and a small scream escaped my throat. I looked out the window to see the blonde one clutching his shoulder, red liquid oozing through his shirt and onto his hand. My eyes widened and Jungkook was quick to walk back around to the driver side of the car. “Still trigger happy after all these years Jeon?” The blonde one yelled furiously as he got back into his car, rolling the window down.. He quickly pulled out a gun and began firing at the car. I screamed and threw my head down beneath my legs. Jungkook quickly shoved the keys in and reversed the car, taking off out of the vacant parking lot, with them following close on our tail.  I was crying hysterically at this point.


 Jungkook recklessly drove and took a series of turns to get us out of the area. “J-Jungkook we have to g-go back. I need my bag!” You panicked. He slammed on the brakes and you jerked forward. “Are you fucking crazy? For a bag? They could be anywhere right around any of these goddamn corners!” He slammed his hands on the wheel. “Girls and their fucking possessions man..” He shook his head. “No.. Jungkook you don’t get it.” You slowly lifted the edge of your shirt to reveal the pump that was attached to the waistband of your skirt. “I need my insulin. I can’t have another relapse. I need it..” You slowly breathed out. He eyed over your distressed frame. Tears covering your cheeks, irritated eyes, messy hair. His mouth went slightly agape. “We can’t go back. When we get back to the warehouse, I’ll have the guys work something out.. Just um..” He was at a loss for words. “I’ll hurry.” He said pulling his phone out, scrolling down a bit and pressing call on one of the contacts. “Just get Jin and tell him to hurry.” He ended the call. He didn’t know how the hell to react to this situation. Usually if it was just another bitch he wouldn’t care. But something was just off about you being in this position.

Jungkook sped down the empty streets, not giving a shit about speed limits at this point. He occasionally looked over at your figure, the irregular pattern of rise and fall your chest followed. Your hands fidgeting and twitching as stress increased. The car suddenly took a turn and followed a isolate road covered by trees. The car pulled up to a large warehouse that looked pretty worn down. The car came to a sudden stop and Jungkook got out and opened your door. Your vision became distorted and eyelids began to twitch shut. “Y/N?” Jungkook asked, waiting for a response. Your eyes fell shut and you fell forward, Jungkook reacting fast enough to catch you in his arms. “Oh shit..” He said trying to get a better grip on your body. “Jin!” He yelled in the direction of the warehouse. He tried to pull you up, but failed. “JIN!” He yelled louder, a few other members stepping outside, concerned. Just then, he parted from everyone and glared over at Jungkook and the girl. “Was she shot?!” He called out, approaching the two. “Uh, no, I just need help! Help me get her to the infirmary hall.” He breathed out, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Jin helped Jungkook lift your body and carry you to the infirmary. “Who is she?” Jin asked as he quickly shoved the door open and prepared a bed. “I’ll explain later, just hurry.” He snapped, impatient. “She has diabetes. I’m not sure what type but she needs insulin.” Jungkook said placing your unconscious body on the bed. “Just.. Just help her.” He said leaving the room.

 Jungkook walked back out to his car and sat in the driver’s seat in silence. He sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, Tossing the lighter down to wherever. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Surely you had to be working under someone else to be in that predicament. A vibrating sensation in his pocket startled him as it dawned on him that he still had your phone. He removed the cigarette from his lips and tossed it out the window onto the concrete. He pulled the phone out, the bright light causing him to squint his eyes. He looked at your lockscreen. It wasn’t anything out of the familiar. It was just a picture of you and Minji swinging at a park. He ran his thumb over the screen and stared intently at the picture. He bypassed your password and went for your texts. Surely enough, it wasn’t what he expected. No mission dates, no dirty work, no meetings, just texts between you and friends & relatives. He exited out of your messages and went for your pictures. Same result. No proof pictures, no evidence, just random pictures. He tapped on a picture of you and Minji on her 21st birthday. Minji had on a sleek black dress and you had on a similar dress in dark red. His eyes traveled over the picture, before swiping through more of the pictures taken that night. He came across a picture of you and Minji completely wasted afterwards taken by her friend. He let a small smile slip as he looked at you completely sprawled out on the floor over Minji in your apartment. Both out like a light. He sighed and stuffed your phone back into his pocket. Surely you had to be working with someone. He couldn’t be wrong on this, could he?



Your eyes slowly drifted open, many bright lights hitting you all at once. Where am I? I don’t remember. Was that all a dream? You thought to yourself as your senses slowly came back. And surely, it was not a dream. You were in a room with all concrete walls and a small window at the top near the ceiling. In the room with you was another bed, a sink and drawers. You looked around and adjusted to your settings. You were laying in a white hospital like bed with an IV traced in your arm. You looked down to see your clothes were changed. Who the hell changed my clothes? You were sick at the thought. You were in a large white T-shirt and simple black running shorts. You carefully moved your hand over to check your insulin pump and it was back to normal and regulated. Then it dawned on you, the memories of the last 24 hours flooding into your mind. Your breathing hitched and you became very uneasy. You pulled the IV out of your arm and immediately stumbled out of the bed to try and find any weapon possible. You hit the floor with a thud and a cry escaped your lips as a loud crash was certainly heard to anyone nearby. You crawled over to a nearby counter and found a needle gauge and grabbed it.

Just then, the door swung open and in walked an unknown man. “Hey Jungkook, princess is awake!” He spoke. He had bright red hair and a playful smile. You tighten your grip on the small weapon and backed in the opposite direction from him until your back hit the wall. “Get the fuck away from me.” You warned. He raised his hands and began nearing you like some sort of trapped animal. “I SAID GET AWAY!” You roared, just then another tall man walked in with a shocked Jungkook behind him. You placed your hand on the wall behind you, slowly easing yourself up. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. My name is Jin. Please put the needle down Y/N.” He had a white lab coat on and black attire underneath. “No one is going to hurt you, okay?” Jin pushed the man behind him and approached you slowly. Your hand began to shake and turn white from gripping so tightly. Jin placed his hand on top of yours and slowly removed the needle. “Good..” He spoke softly. “Please take a seat Y/N. I know you’re scared right now. But I promise, no one is going to hurt you. I won’t let them.” He sincerely smiled as he guided you back towards the bed. Your eyes met Jungkook’s as you carefully sat down again. “Jungkook told me that you had passed out due to lack of proper blood sugar and you have diabetes type 1, correct?” Jin asked as he picked up the items you recklessly knocked down. You nodded. Jungkook walked beneath the bed. “Y/N, take this, It has everything you should need for a proper recovery.” Jin said, handing you a small bag. “I need to go help Sungjae’s team. Jungkook take her to the spare room please.” Jin said rushing out the door and down the hallway. “Um. Follow me.” Jungkook awkwardly said.

You walked out of the small room with him and out into the bigger hallways. This place was huge. You noticed a bunch of other men walking up and down the hallways, weapons in tow. White concrete walls, large windows, countless rooms. This place did not match it’s outside at all. “I see she’s awake now. That’s good.” Someone smiled, patting Jungkook’s shoulder as he walked past. Jungkook just nodded and continued walking. You reached the end of the hallway and Jungkook took out a key and unlocked the door. He carefully pushed it open and placed his hand on the low of your back as he let you walk in. You slightly flinched at his touch but ignored it and walked into the small room. A decent sized bed, nightstand and a bookshelf with a few books on it. A bathroom was connected as well. Jungkook followed you in and shut the door behind him. You whipped your head around. Why is he still here?

              “Y/N, please sit. We need to talk.”