#and as far as I’ve heard he hasn’t said anything unsavory about the boys so I’m still cool with him mostly) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bnhabadass · 3 years

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Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: Smut, 18+, Mafia AU Trope: Woke up married Dialogue Prompt: “Aren’t we supposed to be working?” Warnings: overdosing on cold medicine, mixing cold medicine with alcohol, dub-con, mentions of sex while unconscious, vomiting Word Count: 4,480

This is my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab. I was so happy when I spun the roulette wheel and it landed on my favorite au, the mafia au. I hope you all enjoy and make sure to check out everyone else’s contributions here. Also a big thanks to @doinmybesthere for being my beta reader and putting so much work into creating the master list for this collab.

“A fever? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You winced at the voice coming out of your phone. You were curled up in bed, a heavy futon draped over your achey, chilled body. “I’m really sorry,” you croaked into the receiver. “I can’t get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be able to come into work today.”

“You know how important tonight’s meeting is.”

You could feel the fire in the eyes of your underboss as he spat at you about how important tonight’s festivities were. You couldn’t care less. You hated the guy, but more importantly you hated your father for getting you in this mess.

A debt needed to be paid and your family couldn’t afford to take out a second mortgage on the house. So your father, as smart as he thought he was, went to the nicest restaurant on the far side of town where the boss of one of the most dangerous mobs in the city stationed his office.

A debt for a debt. That’s what he told you as he came home smiling with a big check in his wallet. No one in your family knew where he got the money, but he seemed confident enough that he’d be able to pay it back.

A month went by and one day, three scary men knocked on your apartment door. They said they were there to “collect”.

You were terrified. You thought they were there to rob you, to take the money you had been saving in a rainy-day fund. But no, they came to collect you. Now, it’s been four months and you’re still stuck doing odd jobs for them--grocery and coffee runs as well as spending reports and other money related things you are less than qualified to do.

You hate your job. You hate having to put up with the unorthodox hours and the unsavory jobs and the complaints about your work ethic and the having to do it over again because you didn’t do it right the first time. You want out. If you weren’t positive that if you left they would be able to hunt you down, you would have fled the country by now.

But your father’s debt still hasn’t been paid.

“Look,” you pleaded. “I can come in tomorrow and work double my usual time. Please, Kirishima-san, I just need the day to rest.”

“Not a chance. You’re coming in today and that’s final. If you don’t, well, then maybe we need to take an extra payment from your parents.”

Before you could even process what he just said, he hung up the phone.

Another payment from your parents. You couldn’t possibly let them take any more from your family. With a new threat looming over your head, you mustered up enough strength to push off of your futon and get dressed for the clients’ dinner.

By the time it was 7:00 in the evening, you had taken a large swig of cold medicine and were ready to spend the night serving these criminals.

Outside of the restaurant, two bodyguards were stationed at the front door and one at the back entrance. All three of them were dressed in black from head to toe. You, on the other hand, were tasked with serving your boss’s clients, so your outfit differed from theirs.

You were dressed in attire suited for waiting tables. Black slacks stretch across your legs and your pristine shirt was smoothed against your body. A tight black vest clung to your chest and pressed against your boobs, squishing them together. If it weren’t for the fever, chills, and headache, you would look like you belonged with this crowd of criminals.

You flashed your ID to the guard at the back door and he nodded you in. Your eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent kitchen lighting, but once they did you saw how busy everyone was. It truly was one of the most important nights for your boss, so you understood why you were needed. Still, this night would truly take the most out of you.

“Oi, (L/n),” one of your boss’s associates called for you. “Take these to table four. I’ve been covering your ass for the last twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Kaminari-san.” You bowed your head and skirted over to the table where two well-dressed men spoke with one another in a hushed tone. You placed their meals in front of them and bowed your head.

“Wait,” one of them called as you began to walk away. “I asked for a Jasmine tea. This is Sencha.”

“Yeah,” the other one piped up. “And I asked for a Sencha tea and this is Jasmine.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to yell into the abyss and slap those men across the face. But of course all you did was bow in apology and take the cups back. Kirishima’s words to you over the phone rang loud and clear in your mind.

“Anything they need, you get it for them. These are important people the boss works with and we can’t have idiots like you messing this up for us.”

The men smirked at you and as you turned around to grab their “correct orders,” the man who ordered the Jasmine tea leaned over to leave a hard, painful smack across your ass.

You froze but didn’t say anything and walked away.

It was still early in the night but you had run yourself thin. You needed to sit down or to at least take a sip of water, but there was no room for breaks as you bounced from table to table getting the people what they wanted. You had even left the venue a couple times to retrieve items like the proper creamer one client required in their coffee.

Your throat was so sore and dry and it was aching for a break. Your entire body was aching for a break. But as you saw someone sitting at one of the tables raise her hand to wave you over, you had to put all of your aches aside to tend to her needs.

“Good evening, ma’am.” You bowed your head. “How may I assist you?”

A small smile was on her dark red painted lips. She seemed to be searching for something as she eyed you up and down. “Do you happen to know when Bakugou-san will be joining us?”

Bakugou-san… Were you supposed to know who that is? You had never heard the name before, although you knew your boss had many ties throughout the district. It could be one of them.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I could ask my supervisors if they happen to know.”

She waited a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in your expression. “That’s all right. You may go back to work now.”

You bowed and thanked her.

Bakugou-san.

The name did sound familiar, but you’re not sure where you could have heard it. It wasn’t until you were deep in thought, trying to recall where you had heard the name, that you could feel something pushing up against your throat. Oh god. Your stomach was churning.

You ran to the bathroom, pushing someone out of the way to get there. You’d probably hear an earful from Kirishima for pushing a guest, but you needed to find a toilet before--

Oh no.

You barely made it into the stall before emptying the contents of your stomach onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Your legs collapsed from under you and you kneeled in your vomit as you coughed up your stomach lining into the porcelain bowl.

Tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breathe while hacking everything you had into the toilet. The black eyeliner you threw on before leaving the house had smudged into raccoon eyes around your lashes.

You rested your cheek against the toilet, ignoring all of the germs that were most likely crawling up your skin and into your pores. The toilet seat felt cool against your burning cheek and watering eyes. You thought you could die happily here, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in a pile of your slowly cooling vomit.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working here?”

Your eyes shot open, and in trying to stand up you slipped. Your ass landed in the smeared vomit. You winced and let out a drawn out, “fuuuck.”

It took you a moment before opening your eyes again and looking up at the man in front of you. And boy did your eyes widen. He was clearly a guest at the clients’ dinner. His blonde hair was slicked back and the bulge of his muscles under his crisp black button down didn’t go unnoticed by you. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and as he crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeves began to tighten.

“Who the hell are you and why are you puking on the floor?”

It took you a second to find your voice. “I’m, um...” you trailed off. “(L/n), sir.” You cleared your throat. “I am a worker for the person hosting this dinner.” You tried to stand up and bow, but he put a hand up to stop you.

“You work for them.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. “Why? What do you owe?”

You’re not sure why he was asking, but his intimidating glare compelled you to answer his every question. “My dad owes them money,” you admitted. “And he wasn’t able to pay them back.”

“Who do you mean by them?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You didn’t even know what these people did. For all you knew they were drug mules or assassins. You never wanted to know what they did when you were roped in. After all, the less you knew meant you could have more of a normal life. “The boss,” you finally answered. Who the boss was, you weren’t sure. You answered to Kirishima but he didn’t have much power aside from ordering around you and every other person unfortunate enough to be roped into working for them.

The man in front of you scoffed. “Get up.”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit you. The man led you out of the bathroom, and as you walked behind him, people who passed the two of you stopped and stared. Oh no, it had to be from the vomit stains on your leg and down your shirt. You probably stank to high hell and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering from your fever.

The man stopped and you had to keep from bumping into him. “There’s an extra work shirt in the closet,” he said. “There should also be some slacks in there. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll have someone collect them.”

His voice was demanding and it took you a moment to register what he said. It wasn’t until he snapped in your face that you moved.

“We don’t have all day, princess.”

You flinched and nodded before scurrying into the closet and flicking the light on. Inside the closet was the restaurant’s sad excuse for a boiler room. The low humming from the machinery brought you back into the present as you searched for the change of clothes you were promised.

There was a crisp white shirt folded on one of the shelves as well as a few different slacks in varying sizes. The shirt was a size too small, so you had to leave the first couple buttons popped open. Before leaving the closet, you tried to think about who the man was and why he was helping you. Was it possible that he wanted something in return?

When you emerged from the closet, he looked you up and down. You were too tired, however, to notice his lingering glare on your chest and the way the button down squeezed your breasts closer together.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes. You’re not sure why you were too scared to look into his vermillion eyes, but the way he called you princess earlier as he snapped at you had definitely made you tremble in your core, and you swore that if you looked up to meet his eyes, your fever would only go higher and higher.

“Why the hell’d you come here if you were sick anyway? Are you trying to poison everyone in the damn building?” His words were like little bullets that shot at every one of your doubts of coming in tonight.

You thought back to why you had come in the first place. You were huddled up in your futon that morning when Kirishima called. You begged to stay home, right? But you couldn’t. You squinted hard as you tried to remember why you weren’t allowed to rest. “I was threatened,” you thought out loud. It wasn’t directed towards the man but he nodded in any case.

“(L/n) was it, right?”

You finally managed to look up at him with bleary eyes. “Yeah, um...” You couldn’t seem to remember what his name was. Wait, he hadn’t told you. He had just led you around and given you new clothes, but he never properly introduced himself.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said as if he could read your mind. His lips turned up into a smirk. “But call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you mumbled. “Bakugou Katsuki.” You had heard that name before, but where. “Bakugou,” you mumbled again as if you were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Bakugou-san.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“Oh!” It hit you like a ton of bricks and as soon as you shot up, you had to recoil because of the ache in the back of your neck. “There’s a woman looking for you, Bakugou-san, er, Katuki,” you bowed.

He just chuckled. “There’s a lot of people looking for me tonight. Who was it?”

That’s a good question. You squinted as if you were looking deep into your memories to remember who it was who asked for him. “She was a woman,” you remembered. “With long dark hair and dark red lips.”

Katsuki nodded. “I see the Yaoyorozus are here.”

The Yaoyorozus. You weren’t sure what that could mean but you didn’t feel like questioning it, so you nodded instead.

Katsuki was looking down at you. His arms were crossed over his chest but a smirk that had been playing across his face all night wouldn’t seem to go away. “Feeling better?”

You didn’t feel better. Although you felt cleaner in the new clothes, there was still a throbbing in your head that wasn’t going away and the overhead lights made your eyes water. But the way that Katsuki looked at you like he was expecting you to say yes just drew you in.

He could tell that the way you nodded a yes in response to his question was a lie, and his face fell before pushing a hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. “Have you taken anything today?”

You had to think back to earlier that day when you brought the bottle of cold medicine up to your lips, not even reading the recommended dose before downing what you could and leaving your home. “Yeah, um, I took some medicine.”

The grin that had been spread across Katsuki’s face returned. “Well I guess we’ll have to get you some more.”

He grabbed your wrist and led you through the halls and over to the bar. You didn’t pay attention to where you were going. The world seemed to be going too fast for you to keep up. What you were able to notice was that everyone’s eyes were on you as you gently swayed back and forth, trying to settle yourself down. As you were in your own head, you couldn’t start to picture what everyone else saw when they looked at you. You with your raccoon eyes due to streaky makeup that you couldn’t stop rubbing.

“Here.” Katsuki shoved a glass in your face. “Not necessarily traditional medicine but it’ll get the job done.”

You looked up at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ‘medicine’ was a deep brown color which swirled around as he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his thick ones as you took the glass. You lifted it up to your nose and took a deep breath in, gagging at the smell. “Um, I don’t think I should.” You had been warned about mixing alcohol with drugs and the dangers that came with it, but no one had ever told you not to mix drinks with cold medicine. Still, that couldn’t be right, right?

“Come on, it’s good for you,” he egged you on. “Besides, it’ll get that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

You had never tried whiskey before. You were used to lighter drinks, something bubbly with a shot of vodka or two in it. But this was almost too much. You lifted the glass up to your lips and tilted it back. Your lips stung as they made contact with the drink, but you didn’t want to seem weak to Katsuki. He’d taken care of you so far and seemed pleasant enough, albeit intimidating.

As you tipped it back further and took more of the drink into your mouth, Katsuki pushed his hand against the bottom of the glass so you couldn’t tear it away, making sure you would drink every last drop. It stung going down and the cubes pressing against your lip were colder than you expected. You gagged as a couple loose tears rolled down your face from the drink’s burning sensation. You bet you looked even more of a mess now.

“Good girl,” Katsuki said with a low demeanor. With his thumb, he wiped away a drop of whiskey that rolled down your chin.

“And this’ll make me feel better?” You didn’t think you were supposed to drink when you were sick, but you were far too tired to even think about what was wrong and what was right. If he said that it’d make you feel better, then that had to be a good thing. You’re sure of it.

“Sure will.” He placed a firm, calloused hand on your head and stroked down your hair. You nuzzled into his warmth.

It was such a nice sensation that it almost made you forget that you were supposed to be working. That there were people waiting on you to bring them their food and fetch their creamer, people who were ready to slap your ass and laugh as soon as you turned away.

“I have a,” you started, not really sure where that sentence was going. “I have to go back to work.”

As you began walking away, Katsuki stopped you, pulling you back over so your face was practically pressed up against his chest. “No you don’t. You’re sick, remember?”

Right, as if you hadn’t forgotten. But he was right. You were sick and your medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn’t risk spreading your germs and getting anyone else sick.

You watched the dinner guests from afar. You leaned in to hear conversations about hitmen and other rivaling mobs around town. Some were about money laundering and clients that needed to be taken out, whatever that meant.

At one point, someone asked to pull Katsuki aside and talk alone, but instead he just pulled you closer.

“The hell do you want, Yoarashi?”

Yoarashi was a big guy, bigger than Katsuki, but it was clear even to you that he was intimidated by the blonde in front of him.

“You owe me for what I let you borrow last month.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

To you, they sounded like they were underwater and you weren’t sure what they were discussing, but you were curious to learn more.

“Come on, Bakugou. Work with me here.”

“I’m a busy man, Yoarashi. Now get out of my face before I have my men take care of you.”

Something about the raw power and the threatening tone behind Katsuki’s voice made you excited. You wanted to melt into his words, but you weren’t sure why.

“Busy man?” Yoarashi scoffed. “Come on, Bakugou. You’ve barely been seen all night. Where have you been, fucking this little lackey of yours?”

He didn’t mean you, did he? Before you could even comprehend what he just insinuated, Katsuki turned you around and pressed your face up against his chest. You could feel yourself growing even hotter as you were pushed into one of his pectorals. One of his hands cupped the back of your head. Was he protecting you?

“Listen here,” you heard him say. “Don’t contact us ever again unless you want to end up like your first boss did. I can make your life a living hell and I will, got that?”

“Don’t think I don’t have other contacts, all right? You aren’t the only one in this town with resources, Bakugou.”

You felt something jab into the other side of Katsuki’s chest. Did Yoarashi hit him? A few seconds went by before you heard the snapping of fingers and two men came over to drag Yoarashi away.

Katsuki released the hold he had on you, and you watched as the tall man struggled out of his hold. “You aren’t gonna tell anyone what you saw here tonight, right princess?”

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you felt when you saw that man being dragged away. You were scared, of course; scared for your own life and of the raw power that Katsuki seemed to hold. But on top of fear there was something else. There was a tingle between your thighs that wouldn’t seem to go away, and there was also a sense of excitement. Out of all the people here, this man was paying attention to you. You were far from Mafia material, but he clearly saw something in you and you wanted more of his gaze lingering on you.

Your mind felt hazy with Katsuki and you wanted even more. You didn’t know what to do when you felt him smooth his hand down your back. You didn’t know what to do when his usual smirk turned into something much more dangerous. And you didn’t know what to do when he leaned over and pressed his lips against your own.

His lips felt heavenly as they explored you. They were soft and welcoming despite his cold and dangerous exterior. His tongue probed its way into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something else which you assumed was just him. He bit your lip and it felt like he smiled when you let out a moan.

When he released, you felt as if the whole world was spinning with Katsuki. You wobbled around a bit and he chuckled. You tried asking if you could sit down, but the words refused to come out. The last thing you remember is seeing the world go black, the sound of the clients’ dinner fading out of earshot, and two strong arms carrying you away from reality.

You were in pain by the time you woke up. Your body, especially your head, ached tremendously and you wished the sun would stop shining so bright through your window. But wait, the window in your bedroom at your apartment faced another building. The sun never shined too bright in the morning when you were at home.

Slowly, you peaked your head out from under the covers and looked around. You weren’t in your bedroom, but you were in a bedroom. The bed you had been asleep in was enormous, but aside from that there was not much else furniture in the room or even any pictures to signify who the room could belong to.

It wasn’t until you sat up that you realized just how exposed you were under the covers. You couldn’t find your clothing anywhere. What were you even wearing last night? Where were you last night?

You remembered being sick and being called into work by Kirishima. You were stressed. You were nauseous. There was a beautiful woman who asked for someone in particular but you were too sick to remember what their name was, right?

And then you raced to the bathroom and met--

A groan from beside you shook you out of your thoughts, and as soon as you saw the person lying in bed next to you, all of your memories came flooding back.

“Morning, baby girl,” Katsuki said.

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth hung open and you felt lightheaded.

Katsuki was shirtless under the covers and you were too scared to ask if he had anything on covering his lower half. “You put on quite the show last night.”

Last night. Where you met him. What did you do last night? “I...” You didn’t know what to say, and that made Katsuki let out a booming laugh.

“Come on, you remember at least a little of it don’t you?”

You shook your head. Then you shook your head again. You couldn’t stop shaking your head.

Katsuki put a hand on your shoulder and you stopped. He had a shit eating grin spread across his face that you wanted to both punch and kiss at the same time. “First throwing up at my party and then getting blackout drunk in front of all my guests.”

“What?” You could barely remember anything. What did he mean ‘his party’? The clients’ dinner was run by…

Your eyes widened as you realized just who you had found yourself naked in bed with. Who had found you puking on the bathroom floor. Who that stunningly gorgeous woman was asking for earlier.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and Katsuki let out another chuckle. “You really were the life of the party.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to his side of the bed, and you let him. He dragged his hand up and down your exposed body and roughly cupped your sex. “I had a blast toying around with you last night, but now I want you to be able to remember what it feels like when I bury my cock inside of you, sweetheart.”

You hated the way he was grabbing you and the way he forced your legs to open up for him, but what you hated more than any of that was the way his words made your inner thighs ache and how they instinctively parted just for him.

You turned away as he leaned down to smother your chest with rough kisses, and as you looked over to your left hand, you couldn’t help but notice a diamond ring that wasn’t there the night before.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugo #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mob boss bakugou!!!#mafia au #mha mafia au #bnha bakugo #bnharem #bnharem collab #tw: dubcon #tw: alcohol #tw: overdose

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jemodemo · 6 years

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So this is kinda important I guess

Some of you may or may not know, my parents kicked me out last November. I, being a minor and unable to legally live on my own without emancipation, which I have no real basis to request, moved in with this family I’ve known for about 4 years. I used to go to their home for respite (please just google it I’ve been going to respite places since I was 7 and I honeslty have no idea what it is) so they know me pretty well. I’ve noticed a lot of various different things, though.

First of all, how they treat my mental health. I have a lot of issues with my mental health and behavioral control due to some unsavory things happening in my childhood, and sometimes those things come up and me, having been on meds for so freaking long and finally getting a say in whether or not I wanna take meds, I don’t take meds (although I started one about a month and a half ago and so far it’s mostly positive results but that’s not the point). My mom, if I couldn’t see the point of getting out of bed to go to school, would try to call the police for truancy. Also, if I needed to come home because I just couldn’t be at school, she’d have me do extra chores around the house as a sort of punishment for my “bad behavior”. My mom, for those of you who don’t know, is going to college to be a therapist and work with kids with mental health issues, by the way. My people (that’s what I prefer to call them. It’s simple enough so that I don’t really have to explain it), when I can’t see the point of getting out of bed to go to school, just let me be and check in every once in a while. I just have to text them that I’m taking a mental health day so they can call in to school and say I’m ill, which is frankly the truth. If I seem to be stressed or cranky, they don’t say, “why are you so cranky” or “jeez you woke up on the wrong side of the bed” and then push me to talk about it and proceed to tell me my issues are invalid. They say, “hey, I see that you seem to be upset. Would you like to talk about it?” And if I say no, they say “are you sure” and if I continue to say that I don’t want to talk about they tell me that they’re here if I need anything. They don’t push me to join the family and then say something like “nice of you to finally be a part of the family”. They make it known that they would like for me to be downstairs with them more often and when I’m downstairs, if I’m in a cheery mood they say “wow i haven’t seen your shining face in ages” or something along those lines.

Another thing I’ve noticed is the things they notice. Whenever we get fast food, I prefer Burger King (the bacon king and onion rings and a root beer with no ice) and they order for me and remember that that’s what I prefer. They noticed that after the third time we went to Burger King. And if I don’t come along and they get fast food, they always know what I like from various restaurants (most importantly no ice in my drink). They know I like Swiss rolls but not the little Debbie brand, the off brand stuff from the local grocery store. They know I love spam and try to keep it in the pantry (although it’s expensive and it’s understandable when I eat it all). They know I like the music I like, and when they go to a thrift store and they see a CD I might like, they’ll buy it. I have an avenged sevenfold cd (even though I don’t really listen to them that often), a good charlotte cd (actually my favorite cd from them), and an all American Rejects cd (again, favorite cd from them) that they bought me without my knowledge. They also know that I prefer medium t shirts and I love the color green (I literally have green hair). If they see a shirt at the thrift store (I love thrust stores btw) that they think I might like, they’ll get it. When I needed a new pair of shoes, they saw a pair of converse at a thrift store that was my size and they just got them. They were in good condition too. They know the things I like and notice the details. My parents know my favorite color but still somehow refuse to accept that I like the rest of the stuff I like and need better bras than Walmart bras and that I fit into medium shirts and not XXL shirts (although those are nice for sleeping). They don’t realize that I’ve lost a lot of weight and when I need new pants it’s sweatpants that are absolutely massive on me and are still too big when I have them tied. Sometimes my people will play a fall out boy song (they’re my favorite “emo” band but not my all time favorite band) kinda loud downstairs and see how long it takes me to shout the next lyrics after I realize that it’s fall out boy (I actually have freakishly good hearing when it comes to music but like everything else is like what no im like deaf).

Another thing that I’ve noticed that’s different between the two households is conversations. My parents are super conservative Christian parents. I’ll show my mom a meme and she’s like “well how do you think that makes that person feel that they’re like that” or ill tell a story about something or I’ll be really excited about something and they just look blankly at me or give halfhearted responses. Here, if I’m excited about something, people here get excited about stuff too. We all like different things but also like a lot of similar things. Like, if I wanna talk about my favorite beauty bloggers, I can talk to the person in the room next to mine. If I wanna talk about books I can talk to my roommate. If I wanna talk about video games I can talk to the guy down the hall. If I wanna talk about music I can talk to the youngest bio daughter (there’s ten people in my house btw as opposed to the four and occasionally five if my sister was home from college at my parents house). There’s always people to talk to about stuff. One of them was talking to the three year old the other day and I walked downstairs to get some water or something and I just heard her say “can you say DEEZ NUTZ” (keep in mind the person closest to my age is like 23). The baby was chewing on a toy potato and one of my people was like “hey look it’s you” and another one called me a breadstick so now they call me “carbohydrate” and the conversations are always nice and lively.

I also have a lot more freedom here. If I want to hang out with friends last minute, sure, just let me know where you’re going. If I wanna hang out with my closest (and longest) friend even though he’s a guy, sure, that doesn’t matter. When I decided that I wanted to stop taking birth control (I was only on it because I was on a shit ton of meds when I first got my shark week so it turned into shark month due to all the hormonal imbalances and whatnot and then I stopped taking meds and it’s all regular now) they said “okay just if you ever decide you want to get back on it because you want to do the stuff just let us know”. They let me have friends and do stuff last minute and go out in public to places and like be like a teenager in a book. My parents would freak out if I wanted to hang out with a boy, even with parental supervision and/ or in a group environment (excluding my dnd group but that’s cuz my DM is my best friends cousin and my parents love my best friend). If I wanted to visit a friend, it had to be planned a week in advance and they had to have met that friend beforehand. They had parental restrictions on my computer that banned any websites that were inappropriate for anyone under the age of ten (I’m 16 with a maturity level of a 30 year old for the most part) which made it nearly impossible to do my homework. They encouraged my wanting to do the arts (music, acting, and like drawing art) but if I needed new guitar strings (they’re like $5) they said no or if I wanted to paint they said no because “last time you got paint everywhere” which wasn’t true. If I need guitar strings here, yeah sure, just do a bit extra chores to like “earn the money” or whatever (basic stuff like cleaning the bathroom) and if I want to paint just make sure I clean it up after. Earlier this summer (technically it was still during school) a popular amusement park about two hours from here had its openening weekend and one of my friends asked if I could go and my people were fine with it, I just did a lot of extra chores. We had a two hour car drive, me and this girl who’s my age, and we picked up a couple of her friends and all four of us went to the amusement park without adults. It was kinda weird.

Anyway that got kind of unorganized but my point is:

When I lived with my parents, I was anxious, depressed, and almost always angry.

Now that I live with my people in a more “caring” environment, I’m happier and less stressed and angry, although my anxiety and whatnot still flares up occasionally.

If the people you’re always with are good to you, you’re probably going to be in a better mood and have better physical/ mental health.

If the people you’re always with aren’t all that good to be around, you’re likely to have worse mental/ physical health and be in worse moods.

That was a lot and I apologize but that was really important for me to say that. Also I’m not trying to come off as ungrateful, my parents tried at first but this past year hasn’t been that great for any of us and everything slipped. And whatnot.

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thewolfmancometh · 7 years

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Ethan Embry Talks Devil’s Candy, Separating Art From Artist, And Having Hair Again

Thanks to films like That Thing You Do!, Empire Records, and Can’t Hardly Wait, virtually every girl I knew in high school had a crush on Ethan Embry. Additionally, were I to ask most of them today their thoughts on Embry, they’d still have a thing for him. A couple decades and dozens of hours of tattoos later, Embry now looks less like the lovable dork who’d admire the pretty girl from afar and more like the guy who’d show up at high school parties to kick the shit out of the seniors and steal your beer. Despite his intense appearance, after thirty seconds of talking to him, you’d realize he’s far more likely to make a dick joke at his own expense than assault you, unless you gave him a really good reason.

Thanks to his ferocious performance in 2013’s Cheap Thrills, Embry has been riding a resurgence as a genre staple, in between appearing as Coyote in Netflix’s Grace and Frankie. In The Devil’s Candy, Embry plays a father who struggles to walk the line between being the head of a household and being his daughter’s best friends, all while his new home’s former resident has set his sights on Embry’s daughter with nefarious intentions. I recently got to chat with Ethan about what drew him to the role, the distinction between art vs. artist, and how we’re currently experiencing Hell on earth. The film has been playing the festival circuit and is finally coming to select theaters and VOD on March 17.

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WolfMan: How long has it been since you actually shot this movie? Two years or so?

Ethan Embry: 17 years.

WM: 17 years. Okay. That explains a lot.

EE: I shot it right after Empire Records. That’s why my hair was so long and full.

WM: That was going to be one of my questions. If you playing a character with hair was one of the more appealing aspects of the role.

EE: Oh, totes man. Totes magotes. (Laughs) When I first read it, the image (writer/director) Sean (Byrne) had sent me for Jessie was more along the lines of the Anthrax lead singer.

WM: With a super long goatee?

EE: Yeah. Super long goatee, shaved head. But when we did that look, with me, my biker tattoos, and a shaved head, they thought that I looked a little too intense.

WM: A little too aggro?

EE: Yeah. They wanted to soften him up. That was one of the things Sean was constantly trying to pull me towards. A more gentle Jessie. Sean is the most gentle dude you’ll ever meet, ever, period. He’s so gentle. My gentlest reactions would, at times, be considered aggressive to him. The long hair/don’t care, when we tried that out, it just worked, man. It changed the way I carried myself, completely. You can’t have long-ass hair and bangs past your chin without a swagger. That first hair flip I gave them, they were like, “Alright. Sold.”

WM: The roles that you’ve been taking recently, you’ve been able to tap into the more badass look. Whether it was The Guest or Cheap Thrills, you got to lean into that intensity. I enjoyed getting to see the softer side of Ethan.

EE: The family guy. Emo Ethan. He’s soooo emotional, isn’t he? (laughs)

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WM: What was it that initially brought you into the project? The opportunity to play a more vulnerable character? Did you have a relationship with Sean? What appealed to you so much?

EE: Keith (Calder) and Jessica (Wu) over at Snoot, who also did The Guest, got on to Cheap Thrills late. They were part of the acquisition for distribution. At the time, they were developing Devils Candy, so they sent me Devil’s Candy. I guess Sean’s thinking was, the stuff that I had done when I was younger, the more gentle, comical, unassuming underdog combined with the more aggressive stuff you were talking about would make for an interesting Jessie. They sent it to me and I read it and the first thing that stuck out to me was the family aspect of it.

I’m a dad. My son is 17 now. When I read it, he wasn’t much older than Jessie’s daughter in the film. It reminded me a lot of the way I raise my boy. Some people will think that I tend to fall too hard on the friendship element of parenting, but I think it’s a very important aspect. I wanted to try to convey both, the dad that is his daughter’s friend but is also trying to, unsuccessfully, lay down the law.

The other thing that stuck out a lot in the script, there were a lot of music cues that Sean had written in, and that was the music I was listening to at the time, so it rang true to me. I clean myself up for work a lot. I’m trailer trash. (laughs) Ethan is about as lower-middle class white trailer trash as you can get. I liked the idea of not having to do that for work. Represent something a little closer to me, with more hair follicles, but still emotionally closer to who I am. And stylistically, a little more accurate.

WM: You’re less in a rush to change out of what you wore on the set of Devil’s Candy, as compared to Grace and Frankie.

EE: At lunch, I take those clothes off. At lunch, they’re gone. So true, man. You speak so much truth, right there. That sentence is so truthful.

WM: Well, I’m a smart guy. I’m smarter than I look, luckily.

EE: You sound really smart.

WM: That’s how I get jobs. As long as I sound good and don’t let people look at my Twitter, I can convince people that I’m not a complete moron.

EE: That’s good. Good job.

WM: Speaking as a “smart guy,” you always struck me as–

EE: Not smart.

WM: Not smart. So what is that like, being dumb?

EE: (laughs) It’s bliss, bro.

WM: You’ve always struck me as someone who doesn’t need to pull their punches when it comes to saying what’s on your mind or what you’re really thinking. You aren’t often thinking about the public relations aspect of celebrity when compared to other actors.

EE: I was homeschooled, man. My social skills are nil. Along with that comes my filter. Yeah, that’s accurate.

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WM: In this movie, the art takes hold of your character and you’re just a conduit for that art to come through. When I was thinking about this interview and this movie, there was a lot of talk and controversy about the Casey Affleck allegations and how he shouldn’t be rewarded. On Twitter, I often see you getting political with people. What are your thoughts on the concept of art vs. artist?

EE: The question of separating the artist from the art is something I haven’t thought of a lot. I think that artists, particularly in Hollywood and some musicians, are personalities in addition to artists. People aspire to be them. It’s not really their art that is the only thing that we should take into account. Their actions are also closely watched these days. As far as the Affleck situation, I mean, fuck it, I’ll just say it. I think that what he was accused of doing and what we know Mel Gibson did are two very different things. I think to lump the two of them together is a mistake. Seeing Mel Gibson there and seeing him back at it, full

As far as the Affleck situation, I mean, fuck it, I’ll just say it. I think that what he was accused of doing and what we know Mel Gibson did are two very different things. I think to lump the two of them together is a mistake. Seeing Mel Gibson there and seeing him back at it, full bore, is disturbing to me. I remember thinking, “So, he’s either drunk again or still hasn’t figured out how to be normal sober.”

People make fucking mistakes. What he did was gross. People have been linking that and Marlon Brando, what was it, last year, that they basically raped that woman on that film? To link what Casey did and Marlon Brando’s actions together, to say what Chris Brown did, to say what Sean Penn has done, into the same thing, I think, is not fair. That being said, I’ve never watched that documentary that Affleck made. From what I’ve heard, there were some pretty unsavory elements to it.

WM: Absolutely. The whole film was very debaucherous.

EE: Right, and just no class. The things happening in that mockumentary are enough to be upsetting. I don’t doubt that those things that he was accused of doing or saying, but from my understanding, it wasn’t assault, it was harassment, that that’s what the suit was. Maybe I’m wrong, but what I’ve read about it, that’s what it seems what it was. That he was harassing these women, and that’s reprehensible in itself, but it wasn’t assault and it wasn’t an attack. I think it’s good that everybody’s got him under a microscope. The problem is, why is Chris Brown still fucking selling tours and making money with music?

WM: That, or Victor Salva, who’s doing another Jeepers Creepers movie, despite going to jail for molesting a child. That’s why I was curious about your take on it, being inside that industry. You are someone who is famous and I can see, on Twitter, you have no problem interacting with people and speaking your mind and if you wonder if the actions you take or things you say are going to cost you a potential job.

EE: My tattoos are probably going to cause more trouble than anything I say. It’s funny, the public loves to look at Hollywood and blame these people in this town and wonder why they’re still giving access to make these films and albums, whatever the case may be, and it’s because people are still buying them.

The entertainment business, period, film, television, music, is a business. If people stop buying Chris Brown albums and stop going to these concerts, they would stop supporting him in this town. But they don’t. People went and saw Hacksaw Ridge. People rented Get the Gringo. It’s really up to the public’s actions whether or not these people have careers.

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WM: Speaking of the public and maybe tying it a little more into the movie, and something that resonated with me was Leland Orser’s bit in the film where he talks about how the Devil isn’t a guy with a pitchfork but the Devil is in humans, and I’m sure had I seen Devil’s Candy a year ago, I would’ve blown it off. Now that I’m seeing what’s going on in America, the truly evil things that humans are doing to one another, I’ve never believed in the Devil in quite the same way as I do now. What were your thoughts about that before filming this movie or if the movie has changed your perception of the Devil?

EE: I grew up super religious, but I am no longer. I believe that the concept of heaven and hell and God and the Devil are things that we can apply to actual realities. The idea of demons and possession. Take the science of mental diseases, chemical imbalances, it’s easy to see where the idea that possession is possible when you understand schizophrenia, bipolar, mania, things like that.

I’ve suffered from mania, to the point of full-blown hallucinations, delusions of grandeur, inability to stop talking for a fucking week, and I know what it’s like. It does feel like possession. I think that hell is something that we create for ourselves. Your concept of horrible things is another person’s relief.

If we want to talk about politics and last night’s State of the Union, half the room is standing up and applauding while the other half is just sitting there groaning, and that’s a representation of the rest of America. Half the country, it’s true, they got him. He said what they wanted. Our idea of the Devil is their fucking savior, and vice versa. There’s a couple times where I’ve gotten the old Bible off the shelf and searched through Revelations to see if it says anything about a bloated Cheeto being the Antichrist. (laughs)

WM: I don’t know if I got that far in the book to read that part.

EE: Check it. Maybe it’s there. Did St. Paul talk about anything to do with that? Where I’m at, I’m disgusted, but I’m not surprised. At all. Not surprised one bit. It’s disappointing but it’s not surprising.

WM: Instead of the State of the Union last night, I went to a metal show instead, which seemed like a far less infuriating experience to have.

EE: What’d you see?

WM: This band from Brooklyn, Tombs. It was so funny to hear conversations like, “Do you enjoy epic fantasy doom metal or atmospheric black metal?” It sounds like a completely foreign language when you say these things out loud.

EE: Yes! (laughs) I’ve been talking about this lately, all the sub-genres of metal being ridiculous. They’re so particular about them. For me, when I say I love metal, there’s some of it I hate. I’ll group hardcore into metal. I’d call Dillinger Escape Plan “metal” and people get so pissed.

WM: Uhh, they’re math rock.

EE: “That’s mathematic hardcore, man. That’s not metal, bro.” (laughs)

WM: I’ll wrap things up with a slightly less intense question. Bringing it back to the Oscars, they at one point dropped Red Vines and Lemonheads from the ceiling and encouraged the audience to eat these things, and they’re fucking disgusting.

EE: That’s really horrible candy.

WM: Since the movie’s called “The Devil’s Candy,” what do you think would be the devil’s Candy? What’s the most disgusting candy that you can’t believe people actually eat?

EE: Halloween candy corn, man. It’s awful. Why? It’s gross. Either that, or the little colored dots on the piece of paper. I can’t get just the candy, I always end up with half of the paper in my mouth.

WM: You’re guaranteed to eat at least an entire piece of paper if you eat that stuff.

EE: That shit’s just ridiculous. You know what the Devil’s candy actually is, right?

WM: I’d like you to tell me.

EE: It’s the tears of the innocent. (laughs)

WM: Oh, okay. That makes sense.

EE: That’s the sweetest of them all.

WM: I don’t know why they don’t sell that in stores.

EE: Like an energy drink.

WM: Or limited edition Cadbury creme eggs full of tears of the innocent.

EE: They’d be salty.

WM: If you’re trying to sell people, “There’s a salty, creme egg,” you’re looking at a specific demographic that would buy those.

EE: Well, anything with the Devil in the title is a limited demographic, I think.

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